Santa's Prayer on Christmas Eve

Today I received a Christmas Card from my friend Janet, and inside the card, she had tucked this wonderful prayer. I had never seen this before, but was deeply moved and knew that this should be shared.























Santa's Prayer on Christmas Eve

The sleigh was all packed, the reindeer were fed,
But Santa still knelt by the side of the bed.

"Dear Father," he prayed "Be with me tonight,
There's much work to do and my schedule is tight.

I must jump in my sleigh and streak through the sky,
Knowing full well that a reindeer can't fly.

I will visit each household before the first light,
I'll cover the world and all in one night.

With sleighbells a-ringing, I'll land on each roof,
Amid the soft clatter of each little hoof.

To get in the house is the difficult part,
So I'll slide down the chimney of each child's heart.

My sack will hold toys to grant all their wishes.
The supply will be endless like the loaves and the fishes.

I will fill all the stockings and not leave a track.
I'll eat every cookie that is left for my snack.

I can do all these things Lord, only through You.
I just need your blessing, then it's easy to do.

All this is to honor the birth of the One,
That was sent to redeem us, Your most Holy Son.

So to all of my friends, least Your glory I rob,
Please, Lord, remind them who gave me this job."

~Warren D. Jennings

Last night our family was treated to the best school Christmas program we have ever seen. The program was called "The Best Christmas Present Ever!" My daughter Mary had a little solo-isn't she cute?

The program was created by Celeste Clydesdale and arranged by David T. Clydesdale. The gist of the story was that a group of children were trying to plan a birthday party for the baby Jesus and had asked a non-believing newscaster to help promote the party, and by the time the party was over, the newscaster was now a believer as well.

At the end of the program, several narrators recited the Christmas Story ala Linus from A Charlie Brown Christmas. Listening to them speak, I began to choke up. As they recited the familiar gospel story, the children who were portraying the Holy Family and their guests arrived on stage. The angel had a smile on her face that could have lit up the whole room without her halo! But by far, the show stealer was a little boy in the second grade who then sang "Happy Birthday, Jesus" in a sweet and sincere voice. Before he stepped away from the microphone, he whispered, "I love you, Jesus."

That was it, the tears began to flow. Had I payed a fortune to attend a professional Christmas Program, I don't think I would have seen a better show, or one that moved me as deeply. I am so grateful to have had this opportunity to celebrate Christmas in this way, and I pray that all of you, dear friends, will also find that your heart is moved by simple joys in this Holy Season. A Blessed Christmas, everyone!

Dreaming Big

Last night our family dinner conversation revolved around travel. Now, none of us in the Bender family have really ever traveled anywhere, as I've mentioned before on this blog. Our usual family vacations consist of camping at a nearby State Park. I would say that we are pretty content to sit back and listen to others share their travel stories knowing that our turn will come someday when we'll be able to see a bit of the world far beyond the outside of our backdoor. So it was fun fantasizing with each other about where we would go if we ever had the chance for a real vacation, sort of like dreaming about how you might spend the money if you were to ever win the lottery.

Now most of our dream destinations were pretty typical: Hawaii, Florida, and other warm and sunny places. My top three were:

Prince Edward Island, Canada-I've always been a huge fan of "Anne of Green Gables" and would love to see the real-life setting of those fanciful, fictional tales with the heroine who spells her name like me

Maine-all of my life I've thought that this would be a wonderful place to spend some time in. I think it took my husband by surprise that this would be one of my choices; I guess I had never mentioned it to him before. When he asked why I would want to travel to Maine, I said it's because I've always wanted to see the ocean crashing into the rocky shore and I'd love to tour all of those lighthouses. My dear Paul is a bit of a smart-aleck as well as a thrifty man and he reminded me that if I would simply travel the 80 miles back to my hometown of Manitowoc, WI, I could see plenty of Lake Michigan waves crashing on rocks, and, there's a nice lighthouse there as well.

Rome-of course! In fact, my kids eyebrows all shot up in surprise because I didn't mention additional sacred destinations such as the Holy Land, Guadalupe, Fatima and Lourdes. Of course, I would love to go there as well, but even dreaming about Rome makes me feel extravagant. How many far off destinations could I ever afford? And with the newest approved Marian Apparition, Our Lady of Good Help, a mere 100 miles from my home, there really is no need for me to travel to far off locations to witness the wonder of a miraculous visit from Mary.

But then, I thought, I would like to add one more location, and that would be England. I would love to go to England on the day that John Howard, the founder of A Vocation to be a Priest, is finally ordained to the priesthood. John has been such a faithful internet friend to both my son John and I, and he is so dedicated to the cause of increasing vocations, that I will just have to be in attendance at his most special day which will begin his Ordained life of service to God so that I might receive his blessing.

I was feeling pretty high and mighty with my lofty travel dreams, until I noticed that Jack, my son who struggles to get his thoughts out into words because of his speech disorder, was patiently waiting for a turn to join the animated discussion so that he could share his travel dream. When everyone piped down long enough for Jack to speak, he said that there is only one place that he would like to go and that is to Heaven. No airfare needed, no justification necessary and the the ticket is prayer!

Another Bumper Sticker Prayer

After I was enchanted and inspired by the "God Bless the Whole World" bumper sticker that I saw last week, I noticed another prayer on a bumper sticker as I was stuck in traffic a few days later. Now, I wasn't immediately enchanted by the prayer on the back of that car, in fact, my first reaction was to scoff when I noticed those familiar green and gold colors that are a part of the Wisconsin landscape during football season. Wisconsin is so over-the-top in Green Bay Packer mania and I am so NOT a football fan that I could have easily missed the beauty of the words "God Bless Green Bay." After all, I'm used to ridiculous requests for prayers regarding that football team. My husband and I used to roll our eyes at one another every Sunday as we entered church and would be greeted by the usher who always told us to "pray for the Packers!" But, considering that traffic was moving very slowly that morning, I had lots of time to ponder that prayer and I realized that God has definitely answered that intention in a huge and beautiful way.

I am sure that it is common knowledge that the diocese of Green Bay, Wisconsin is the new home to a Marian Apparition that has been declared "worthy of belief" by Green Bay Bishop David Ricken, and so, regardless of the color of the bumper sticker, I will now be uttering a prayer of thanksgiving when I see those beautiful words on bumper stickers or anywhere else. I will be thanking God for blessing Green Bay and the whole world with a sign of hope and inspiration for all of those who who teach the faith as well as for those who are in need of something to believe in, by sending Our Lady of Good Help to Adele Brise with a loving and hopeful message. Miracles do happen. Saints are alive and well in our lifetime. And God is very present in our world, always calling us to a deeper faith and a deeper love with never-ending blessings, both big and small, not just for Green Bay, but indeed, for the whole world!

God Bless Us, Everyone

I recently saw a bumper sticker which read, "God Bless the Whole World." I felt my face light up with a smile as I realized that I was reading the perfect prayer. After all, I sometimes feel as if I could spend hours listing all of my intentions before I even begin to pray: God bless the sick, the homeless, the lonely, the dying, my family, my friends, my enemies, my neighbors, my co-workers, the Church, my brothers and sisters in Christ, my brothers and sisters of all faith backgrounds, those with no faith, those who've asked me to pray for them, myself...Asking God to bless the whole world just covers them all and then some, doesn't it? And more than that, what we're really asking for with this simple prayer is for everyone to recognize that Christ is alive in each and every one of us, and if only we could see Him, could realize His presence in each person we meet, then God truly would be blessing the whole world.

I'm on a Caryll Houselander kick this Advent and the following passage speaks so poetically of the Christ Child in all of us...

"In some He is newly born.

In some He is a child.

In some He is homeless.

In some, He is ignored, unrecognized, mocked, betrayed.

In some He is hungry; in some He is naked; in some He is helpless.

Here are examples, but they are not exhaustive: indeed, they are only hints at the countless manifestations of Christ in man...

In many people Christ lives the life of the Host. Our life is a sacramental life. This Host life is like the Advent life, like the life of the Child in the womb, the Child in the swaddling bands, the Christ in the tomb. It is a life of dependence upon creatures, of silence and secrecy, of hidden light. It is the life of a prisoner.

The Host life may be lived in prisons: in prisons of war, in internment camps, in almshouses, hospitals, workhouses; by blind people, mental patients; in people who have to be wheeled about, washed, dressed and undressed by others; who are literally obliged to offer themselves to God in the hands of other people, like the Host in the priest's hands at the Mass."

~Caryll Houselander, The Reed of God

Just yesterday, I held the Host in my hands, not only at Mass, but at work as well: I was visiting with a mother and her one-month-old son in my office, signing them up for WIC (Women, Infants and Children) benefits so that the mother could have some formula for her baby and healthy food for herself. She had struggled unsuccessfully to breastfeed her baby and so resorted to feeding formula, but now, she was out of formula, and, showing me the empty baby bottle, said she didn't know what she would do without the help that WIC provides.

I took the baby bottle, washed it in the nearby sink and made a new bottle of formula for her so that she could feed her hungry baby while we talked. She went on to share her worries with me about her finances, and the fact that she had applied for cash assistance and food stamps from the State but has been waiting for six weeks and still has not had a response about whether or not she would qualify for the benefits. Being fairly new to this country (just like the Holy Family in Egypt) and not completely proficient in English, she was trying to figure out what her next step should be to provide for herself and her son. Now, she was out of money and out of food and was grateful for the assistance that WIC would provide.

As I looked through my resources to help her find the nearest agency that could help her with her concerns, I could see that she was anxious to finish her appointment with me, because instead of taking her son out of his car seat and holding him while she fed him, she simply left him strapped in his seat and held the bottle in his mouth. She confessed that she was in a hurry because she had a doctor appointment across town and didn't want to be late. But, baby was not enjoying being fed like this; he wanted the warmth of his mother's arms and the nearness of her heart while he ate.

So, she patiently unbuckled him from his seat, undressed him from his winter bunting, and began to feed him with love. Only he wasn't interested in eating just now, and he began to fidget and squirm. I offered to hold him while she looked over the list of resources that I offered her.

With my hand firmly on his bottom, and his little face nuzzling my shoulder, I gently patted the small of his back, and out came his undigested milk, all over my shoulder. Mom fussed and apologized, but I just had to smile. It had been a long time since I wore spit up on my shoulder! I remember reading a Mother's Day poem about a special place in heaven for mothers whose shoulders carry a faint fragrance of sour milk, and I felt honored as I realized that there had been another baby just like this one; a baby who was poor and cold and hungry; a baby whose overfull stomach most likely emptied its contents on His mother's shoulder many times...

"We know by faith that Christ is in our own family; it is He whom we foster in our children. When you tell your child a story, when you play a game with your little son, you tell a story, you play a game with the Christ Child...A woman too weary for articulate prayer will find that for her the best of all prayer is the unspoken act of faith in Christ in her children. When she knows that she is setting the table and baking the cake for the Christ Child, her soul will be at rest...

An old man whose love for his fellow creatures endeared him to them all confessed that whomever he met-before greeting him out loud-he greeted Christ within him in secret. Such a practice as that, begun darkly in faith, would soon teach us to believe, too, just as genuflecting before the tabernacle teaches babies to believe that God is 'in there.'"

~Caryll Houselander, The Reed of God

God is in there...in that baby with the undigested milk, in the mother rushing about to appointments, and even in the nutritionist trying her best to serve and care for young, struggling mothers and their children. And, so I ask God to bless Himself in us, to help us carry His love to one another, to Himself who suffers so much from the burden of our sin. In this season of Advent as we prepare to give birth to God who gestates within each one of us, as we silently wait for Him to be born anew so that we can show Him to the world through our kind actions and our gentle love, I repeat the words of Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol and I ask Him to please, "God bless us, everyone-God bless the whole world."

The Digital Story of the Nativity

Frank at Why I Am Catholic just posted this after he found it on Fr. James Martin's Facebook page. He predicts that it will go viral. I agree!

Little Orphan Annie/Hands That Will Dip In Any Water

"I will never forget you, I will not leave you orphaned, I will never forget my own."

~from Isaiah 49

When my dad passed away four and a half years ago, I felt a bit orphaned. Although I was forty years old at the time, and had been without my mother since 1999, it wasn't until this time without my dad that I felt truly alone for the first time in my life. It was a strange feeling, and even now, it seems almost silly to write it out. Here I was, a grown woman with a husband and five children, perfectly capable of caring for myself and others, including helping to care for my parents in their last years. How can an adult be an orphan? Isn't that title reserved for little children who lose their parents? Yet, orphaned was a perfect word to describe how I felt in my loneliness for my parents, in my sorrow for my past mistakes and resentments toward them and in my lack of appreciation for all that they had done for me in my life. Why is it that we often fail to really see the love that we have been given until it is gone?

My Mother's Hands

"For years I have been haunted by a single line in an unpublished poem which seems to me to be very close to a definition of sanctity:
'Hands that will dip in any water." (an unpublished poem by Joan Bartlett)
I have seen the hands of a foster-mother chapped and bleeding from continually being dipped in hard water in frosty weather and have thought to myself that the stigmata are not, after all, reserved for a few rare mystics." ~Caryll Houselander, The Passion of the Infant Christ

The above passage from Caryll Houselander gave me chills the first time I read it, and it continues to chill me each time I read it again. If this is the definition of sanctity, then I am certain that my own mother is in the Kingdom of Heaven with a halo upon her head. You see, for years after my father's diabetes and back injury left him unable to work, my mom supported our large family by working in a factory, a job she despised, yet took on due to necessity. Each day, she had to work with chemicals, dipping her bare hands in the solution which detrimentally affected her health for the rest of her days. The result of working with this chemical caused nerve damage that left my mother's hands with a constant painful burning sensation, and her hands were so swollen and without feeling that she could barely hold on to anything without dropping it. It was rare that she would be seen without an ice pack between her hands to bring a little comfort from the burning sensation. Despite visits to many specialists, it wasn't until the last few years of her life that the brain tumor that had resulted from the chemical nerve damage was found; it was the brain tumor that eventually took her life.

She dipped her hands in any water to support and love her family; to live her calling from God. It was those same hands that held and comforted me as an infant, that spanked me when I misbehaved, that soothed my fevered brow during many illnesses, that fingered countless rosaries during hours of prayer, that lovingly refinished antique furniture bringing it to a smooth and glossy sheen that I can never replicate no matter how hard I try, and that cooked and cleaned for my benefit and for the benefit of my eight brothers and sisters. She was without a doubt, a saint, and if anyone had ever questioned that fact, they had only to look at her swollen and pain-filled hands-her own form of stigmata- and they would know that these were the hands of a truly holy mother.

Today, I look for the stigmata of motherly love in many other hands, and I find it in the friendly wave of an elderly parishioner at the sign of peace, in the firm handshake of our pastor after Mass, in the gentle squeeze of my daughter when she's feeling loving, in the calloused hand of my husband as he works to fix up our old house, and in the nervous trembling of a first-time mother in my WIC Clinic as she hands me her newborn baby to hold. These hands are all signs of the continuation of my mother's love for me. These are hands that will know pain in one form or another, yet through the pain, they will bring love to the world around them.

The "hands that will dip in any water" are the hands of His love that will always surround me and will never leave me orphaned.

...To be continued...Little Orphan Annie/My Father's Eyes...

Read You to Sleep

Snow silently falls during dark of night leaving behind a shimmering, glistening blanket in the morning sun.

Out you go to cover yourself with that white wonder; rolling in it, sliding in it, building a friend of snow with Santa hat and stick arms, until you are completely worn out by the enchantment of cold and white.

After a hot dinner and a warm and fragrant bath, you curl up beside me, your head on my shoulder. I hold you close, your damp hair chilling me. I draw the blanket a bit tighter around us, and I read to you about your day...

"Snow falls, and once again the wonder of childhood is upon us. At first a few separate flakes float down slowly, one by one, then more, faster and faster, filling our eyes with dazzling, dancing whiteness. The movement is more mysterious because it is silent: dancing, wild dancing, with no sound, like voiceless singing! If it made even the tiny tap of hail it would seem to fall into our world, but the silence is absolute; it is we who are walking in another world, a world in which we are ghosts. The falling flakes touch our faces with unimaginable lightness and melt on the faint warmth of our blood, at once elusive and intimate." ~Caryll Houselander-The Passion of the Infant Christ

I feel a new heaviness in your head and hear a quiet rhythm to your breath. Glancing up from the book, I see your drooping eyelids succumbing to the peaceful words and the quiet love in my voice. You simply cannot stay awake for one...more...word.....

Sleep well, my dear, and dream of snow dancing all around you. Tomorrow we will read again of the glory of God's love for you in the joys of nature, in the beauty of life, and in the sweetness of friendships. Your whole life will be a never-ending story of the heavenly delights that await you as I read you to sleep.