Saturday Evening Blog Post

Once again I am joining in Elizabeth Esther's Saturday Evening Blog Post. This month instead of contributing our favorite post from last month, she is asking us to share our favorite post from the last year. I chose to share Jesus Freak from last July. I think this post describes who I am very well, and I suspect it describes many of my readers as well. Sharing our faith with others is so very important,even, and sometimes especially, when it is difficult and we are ridiculed for it. God bless you all in your efforts to share your love of God and Christianity with others.

Mary's Lullaby/Feast of Mary, Mother of God

When my children were babies, one of my favorite lullabies to sing to them as they drifted off to sleep was Away in the Manger. Last week, my daughter Mary wasn't feeling very well, and she laid down on the couch to take a nap. I sat next to her and sang her this familiar carol to lull her into pleasant dreams. It got me wondering what kind of lullabies our Blessed Mother might have sung to the baby Jesus...






















Close your tired eyes, my child
and a lullaby I'll croon
As I stroke your golden hair
shimmering in the light of the moon.

I pray that God will hold you
so closely to His heart
until the sun arises
and another day will start.

My prayer for you...

May our Blessed Mother sing many sweet lullabies for you in this New Year and fill you with peaceful dreams of heaven. Amen.

Pierced by the Sword of Motherhood

“And a sword will pierce even your own soul.” Luke 2:35

I have a friend from work who recently delivered her first baby early in Advent. I treasure the memory of the moment when she first told me that she was pregnant. Lissa’s office is right across the hall from mine, and we will often just lean back in our chairs and talk across the hall to one another. If something is really important, however, we get out of our chairs and walk over to each others offices to share our stories. Last spring was one such occasion. Lissa walked into my office, quietly asked if she could tell me something, and then pulled an ultrasound picture out from behind her back! She was already three months pregnant before she told anyone!

Keep reading...

Eucharistic Miracle

One of my favorite blogs, Offer it Up, is written by Fr. James Kubicki who is the national director of the Apostleship of Prayer stationed in Milwaukee, WI. He recently made a trip to Fatima and wrote about it on his blog. While in Portugal, he visited the city of Santarem to see the Eucharistic Miracle. Fr. James said "We were able to climb behind the high altar and venerate at closehand the miracle of a Host that turned to flesh and blood."

I had never heard of this before, but found his story and picture of the Miracle so fascinating, that I had to learn more about it! When I showed this picture to my husband Paul, he said, "If more people saw this, they would have to believe." It is in the spirit of bringing others to believe, that I am sharing what I have learned.

"The story of the miracle centers on an early-13th-century woman with an unfaithful husband. Desperate to regain his faithfulness and save her marriage, she consulted a sorceress. The sorceress said she would cure the husband's infidelity for the price of a consecrated host (Eucharistic wafer). After much deliberation, the woman decided to commit the sacrilege.

The next time she attended Mass at the 12th-century Church of St. Stephen, she took the consecrated wafer from her mouth, wrapped it in a veil and headed quickly for the door. But before she had taken more than a few steps, the host began to bleed. It bled so much that concerned parishioners thought she had cut her hand and attempted to help, but she ran out of the church.

Back at home, she threw the bloody host in a trunk in her bedroom. Her husband did not come home until late, as usual. In the middle of the night, they were both awoken by a mysterious light emanating from the trunk. The woman confessed to her husband what she had done and they both knelt in repentance before the miracle. The next morning, the couple told the parish priest what had happened. The priest placed the miraculous host in a wax container and returned it to the Church of St. Stephen. Word spread quickly, and the townspeople hurried to the church to see the miracle.

The next time the priest opened the tabernacle that contained the miraculous host, another miracle occurred! The wax container was found broken into pieces, and the host was enclosed in a crystal pyx. This pyx was placed in a silver monstrance, where it can be seen today.

After an investigation, the Catholic Church approved the recognition of the miracle. The Church of St. Stephen was renamed the Church of the Holy Miracle, and it is one of Portugal's most-visited pilgrimage sites. St. Francis Xavier visited the Church of the Holy Miracle before setting off for missionary work in India.

The church was rebuilt in the 16th century." (From Sacred Destinations)

What I find to be most amazing about this story, is the fact that the woman and man to whom the miracle occurred didn't seem to be especially holy, in fact extramarital affairs and sorcery aren't usually the stuff of holiness, are they? I love that God will use anybody in any situation, to draw others to Himself. We truly have a beautiful God of surprises!

Awaiting the Unseen

In these final days of Advent waiting,
I wonder how you will come to me, Lord.
What will you look like?
How will I know you?

My heart grows impatient,
although I’m not sure what it is so impatient for.
A veil of darkness covers you; I can’t see you.
But, I am sure that when I do,
this wait will prove to have been worth it.

Come to me soon, God, show Yourself to me.
Lift the veil that hides Your mystery.

Bring me Your light, Your love.
Radiate around me and within me.
Fill me with joy.

Sabbath Sunday/Witness to Grace

Fr. Christian Mathis at Blessed is the Kingdom, has a weekly day of rest MEME called Sabbath Sunday. He invites us to republish a previous post and take the day off. I wrote this particular story last winter and thought that it is very fitting to the season, so I am sharing it once again.

Witness to Grace

It was a typical morning in our household. It began with the daily frantic rush to get five kids dressed, breakfast eaten and out the door by 6:45 so we would be on time for daily Mass before school and work. I stood at the door as usual waiting for my children to make their way out the door so I could ensure that everything was locked up and secure before we left. I grimaced at the snow still piled up at the edges of the porch and along the sides of the path. I admit that I have a bit of my father in me, and I like a clean sidewalk after a snowfall. I hate thinking about tracking snow and salt in the house, and I worry about the mailman slipping as he climbs our front steps to deliver our mail. I had asked my 13 year old, Justin, who usually loves to shovel and takes it upon himself to chip away the ice without being asked, to do a better job cleaning the snow off the sidewalks the day before, to which he promptly ignored my request. Now as we were in a hurry to leave and I noticed the job was undone, I offered a snappy criticism to my son who immediately took offense at my words.

As we raced down the city streets, one eye on the clock, the other on the traffic, I could feel the beginnings of a bad day grabbing hold of my spirit. Once we arrived at church, two of the boys were arguing, my daughter, Mary, was crying about her backpack, my son, Joe, was complaining once again about why we have to attend daily Mass, and Justin was shooting me dirty looks.

I always feel that the daily Mass helps me get my day off to a good start and keeps my focus on Jesus. But today, it didn’t seem to be helping. The kids were squirming and whispering and I felt irritated rather than peaceful. Justin always has to leave Mass a few minutes early to get to his cadet post on time, and usually gives me a hug and kiss goodbye as he leaves. Not today. He left without so much as a glance in my direction. I felt the tears begin to sting my eyes, as the teenage years seemed to loom forever in the future. I was failing to feel any grace in this moment. What I was really feeling was the disgrace of self-pity. I was wondering why do I bother to drag the kids to daily Mass when they don’t appreciate it and would probably rather not be there. Why don’t I just let everyone sleep for another half hour and avoid this daily struggle? Why bother?

Then in the corner of my eye, I noticed someone new in church, someone who wasn’t part of the “regular” morning crowd of elderly people. He stood out with his long straggly hair. While I was waiting for my daughter to zip her jacket and grab her backpack, I saw this stranger talking to the priest. I heard Father give a hearty “yes!” and I watched the two of them walk together to the confessional. This was a moment of grace for that man, for the priest, and also for me, the witness. At the sight of this repentant sinner, this lost sheep, this prodigal son returning to his home, the church, my heart expanded in love. It made all of my petty complaints of this early morning feel so shallow and meaningless. My mind returned to the words of this morning’s first reading from Isaiah 41, “Fear not, I will help you. The hand of the Lord has done this; the Holy One of Israel has created it.” And I did feel helped. I could see the hand of the Lord on this man and on me. I knew I had nothing to fear, that my day would turn out all right and my teenagers would turn out all right because the hand of the Lord will see to it, and he will help us.

I went home to quickly clear the sidewalks before work with a new perspective. I know that no matter what I encounter, even icy sidewalks and rebellious teenagers, that God will help me, and I am grateful. My life is surrounded by grace, and I am simply a witness.

Praise for More Love

"Real love hurts. We must love until it hurts." Mother Teresa

Sometimes praise comes hard. This is a hard praise.

Yesterday, I received the news that one of my friends at work has suffered the loss of her husband this past Thursday. Suicide. My friend, along with her 18-year-old son and her 20-year-old daughter, found him dead inside their home. Their love couldn't save him. My friend is a sweet, strong and loving person. She is always thinking of others and doing for others. She has great love. I haven't been a very good friend to her. I didn't know that her family was suffering so much. I never reached out to her to ask about her life. Her office was down the hall from mine, and I didn't take the time to walk down the hall and get to know her better. It would have been so easy for me, but I didn't do it. Would showing my love for her by spending more time with her have changed anything in her life? I don't know. But knowing that we are loved has to help. I do love my friend. Today, I am hurting for her. I want to do more for her and I resolve to love her more from now on.

We were supposed to have our office Christmas party yesterday, but none of us felt like celebrating so we canceled it. I went to a small adoration chapel to spend some time with the Lord. I was in the front row, so close to the Monstrance that I could almost touch it. Was my mind playing tricks on me, allowing me to see what I was longing to see? The light cast a shadow on the the Host, and it looked as if I could see the outline of a person in the wafer. I decided it was Jesus. Jesus showed himself to me in the form of a man in the Host yesterday. I always have believed that He is truly present there, but to "see" Him, when I really needed Him was a great comfort.

I love the silence of adoration and am always hoping that I will "hear" Him speak to me. I never feel as though I do. But yesterday, I was sure I did. What I heard Him say was "Love more. Let it hurt."

Isn't that exactly what Jesus did? He loved us more and more until He hurt with the pain of crucifixion. Would it really be so hard for me to spend more time with others, showing my love in a real and tangible way, instead of hiding within myself, nursing my own wounds? I believe that this is what Jesus was telling me to do during my time with Him in adoration.

Jesus, I praise you because you "loved more". Help me to also "love more". Let me love others until it hurts. Amen.

(Thanks to Jennifer at My Chocolate Heart for this MEME.)