Bound

artwork drawn by my son, Justin, when he was eleven-years-old,
based upon a drawing found in a Stations of the Cross booklet for children
from Gesu Parish in Milwaukee, originally drawn by Mugsie Pike

Here He is,

painfully bound-

bound by my sin,

my misery,

my indifference.

How can I loosen

those binding ties, my Lord?

How can I relieve

your suffering and sorrow?

Let my tears of repentance

fall in abundance.

Let the hope in my heart

set you free.

Let the joy of my life

lived with gratitude

be the dagger

to cut the burning ties

that excoriate Your skin,

scorching through to Your 

Most Sacred Heart,

already burning with the fire

of love for my pitiful soul.

The only binding I can bear
to see You held within, my Lord,

is the fastening You desire.

I will wrap my life around Your holy will

and forever be held close to You, 

bound to Your beautiful love

today and into eternity.

Look For the Helpers

source:  Razoo Blog

On Wednesday,  January 22nd this world lost a good and wonderful man, Edward Slattery, to head and neck cancer, after a hard-fought battle lasting about three years.  I had written about Ed last year when there was a fund-raiser held at St. Florian Parish in West Milwaukee to help raise money to pay for the medical bills from his long-lasting cancer treatment.  Ed's story was also featured in the Milwaukee Catholic Herald, and this year, just a short time before he died, the Milwaukee Catholic Herald included Ed's story in their list of the most inspiring stories of the year.

Over the course of the last year, from the time we first learned about Ed's cancer, our family held him deep in our daily prayers. My daughter, Mary, prayed especially intensely for a miraculous healing, and she believed that God would surely help Ed to become a cancer survivor.  We had gone to visit Ed several times, and for my 12-year-old daughter, it was extremely difficult for her to see how rapidly the cancer spread and deeply he suffered.

After we received the unbelievably tragic news that Ed had died, I found my daughter hugging the family cat and overheard her talking to him, saying, "Roo, do you get God?  I think He's mean."  For Mary, the thought that God would not will for Ed's complete healing was unfathomable. I struggled to find the right way to help her to accept that God does not always answer our prayers in the way we would want or expect Him to.  I wanted her to understand that even though sad and tragic things happen in life, God is only good and only Love, and He suffers right along with us when we weep and mourn.

I thought of Mr. Rogers and his kind and gentle way of explaining everything in life.  I remembered his often quoted statement about "looking for helpers" during tragedies and I was able to comfort Mary with the fact that in the suffering that Ed endured, she was a helper. Her prayers, her visits, and her loving concern, all helped Ed to cope with his cancer, to know that he was loved, and to move toward his inevitable death with peace. God used Mary to help Ed, and Mary willingly complied with God's use of her in giving her compassion and love so generously.

It was easy to see that Ed had many such helpers along his journey with cancer.  In his life filled with selfless giving, so many others came to know and love Ed, and wanted to give back to him. He never seemed to have a shortage of helpers, most notably in his beautiful wife, Lisa.  If I were to choose an example of a perfect marriage, I would look to Lisa and Ed.  Lisa never left Ed's side for one minute during his illness. She loved him and cared for him and believed in him.  She did everything she possibly could to give him comfort and support and to promote his healing.  She relied heavily upon prayer, and despite the fact that physical healing didn't come, the prayer that she and Ed shared surely fostered a spiritual healing that carried Ed into the arms of God upon his departure from this earthly home.

When we attended Ed's funeral, we found a packed funeral home for the wake, and an even more packed church for the Mass.  There was not a dry eye to be found as Ed had touched so many lives in this corner of the world.  Some of his siblings, and all four of his young sons, all spoke about what a wonderful man Ed was, and, before the Mass ended, over 100 young men that Ed had coached in basketball, including two of my sons, stood at the foot of the altar in tribute to the man who had taught them not just how to play a game, but also how to make their way through life with perseverance, passion and hard work.

In his life, Ed had been a helper to many, and in his sickness, so many people were able to return that help to him.  Now, in his death, those helpers continue to pray for his soul and for his surviving family.

My daughter and I are learning to look for the helpers in every situation and to be willing to be a helper to all. And in our helping, we are bringing the love of God to the world around us. What an honor it is to help God, to bring his healing to those who suffer through our words and actions, to pray for those we care about and even for those we don't know so well.

Look for the helpers.  They are each of us and they are everywhere.

Eternal rest grant unto Ed Slattery, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May Ed's soul, and all of the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

The Slattery Family

Abandonment to Divine Providence

Mary, an adorable boating captain and philosopher

Mary, my daughter, wanted to take me out in the row boat at my sister's cottage on Schisel's Lake in Manitowoc County.  I was a bit hesitant, nervous that we might become entangled in the weeds that circle the edges of the lake.  Mary looked at me with that smart look all twelve-year-old girls are capable of and simply said, "Mom!  Trust God!"  I reminded her that she is not God to which she retorted, "No, but I'm God's daughter, so trust me!"  I did and we had a lovely time.

As Mary did the hard work of rowing, I shared my favorite passage from the book I am currently reading, Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, with her.  When I finished reading, Mary, who had been listening very closely, chided me with, "See, Mom!  That passage was meant for you. Trust God, that's all you have to do!"  How simple she makes it seem, boiling down what in my eyes is a complex spiritual discipline, that is, trying to abandon myself to God's will, to the joy of relaxing on a boat ride on a small, rural lake.  My daughter, the spiritual master!

"Fools that we are!  We admire and bless this divine action in the writings relating its history, and when it is ready to continue this writing on our hearts, we keep moving the paper and prevent it writing by our curiosity, to see what it is doing in and around us.  Pardon, Divine Love, these defects; I can see them all in myself, for I am not yet able to understand how to let You act.  So far I have not allowed myself to be cast into the mould.  I have run through all Your workshops and have admired all Your works, but have not, as yet,by abandonment, received even the bare outlines of Your pencil.   Nevertheless I have found in You a kind Master, a Physician, a Father, a Beloved Friend.

I will now become Your disciple, and will frequent no other school than Yours.  Like the prodigal son I return hungering for Your bread.  I relinquish the ideas which tend only to the satisfaction of mental curiosity; I will no longer run after masters and books but will only make use of them as of other things that present themselves, not for my own satisfaction, but in dependence on the Divine action and in obedience to You.  For love of You and to discharge my debts I will confine myself to the essential business, that of the present moment, and thus enable You to act."
~from Abandonment to Divine Providence

Schisel's Lake from the cottage

Jack angling for a nibble

Mary and Jack

 

a view of the cottage from the boat

wild flowers

a wild onion

A wild dog?  No!  It's Marley, my sister's adorable dog.

I love Schisel's Lake!

Dance to the Music That is the Love of God

You know I'm always on the search for inspiration and I love it when it falls right into my lap.  On the drive home from Mass yesterday, I opened the bulletin to read the news (my husband was driving-do you think I'm crazy?  Well, maybe a little, but not enough to read while I'm driving!) and I was instantly moved by my pastor's words.  Just have to share them with you....

From  Fr. Dave Cooper's column on Luke 13:1-9:

"You take your partner by the hand, you hold each other close, and you look into each other's eyes...For most of us, our first dance is a discovery of this amazing person you have fallen in love with-then, with family and friends and champagne and roses,  you begin a new dance as spouses.  The next dances are jigs and skips around your first apartment or starter house.  Soon the dance includes new partners, the colicky baby, the first-grader, the teenager and the angst of being fifteen, the young adult off to college.  The next time that it's just the two of you again is at the wedding of your son or daughter and their first with their spouses.  Your delight becomes your children and grandchildren; you travel to new places, you finally stop and dance closer together once again.  But eventually the rhythm will slow as you will find your joy in the memories of the steps you have danced together.  You become each other's caregiver and protector as you glimpse together into eternity.  You wheel your spouse to the doctor, you slowly help your spouse to the bathroom, you gently dress and feed and prepare the medications for your beloved.  You take your spouse's hand for the last time.  Different steps, different rhythms, different settings.  Before you know it, the whirl of courtship becomes the shuffle of old age.  But the choreography is the same:  you take your partner by the hand, you hold each other close, you look into each other's eyes...And you dance to the music that is the love of God.

Jesus' parable of the fig tree reminds us of the ever-changing choreography of our lives-in keeping tune to the love of God in our lives, every season of our lives can be productive and meaningful.  The life of God is always about continuing the "dance" with hope and trust.  Despite the sadness and tragedy that can cut down our lives in disappointment and despair, God continues to plant in our midst opportunities to start over, to try again, to rework things, to move beyond our hurt and pain to make things right.  As God's mercy and compassion continue to "play" we are able to continue the choreography of a life of purpose and happiness."

Laziness-The Original Sin

I'm always easily suggestible, especially when it comes to books, so when Fr. Jim Kubicki, SJ, the National Director of the Apostleship of Prayer, began his talk on Heroic Catholicism by mentioning the book The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck, and specifically mentioned that what was so interesting about it was that it began with three little words, "Life is difficult", my interest was piqued and it was off to the Salzmann Library at St. Francis de Sales Seminary to pick up a copy.

Now The Road Less Traveled is not a religion book, it's a psychology book, with four sections explaining how to deal with this difficult life:  Discipline, Love, Religion and Grace.  Dr. Peck shares stories of his past patients and how he helped them cope with their neuroses and psychoses.  I admit that at several points I felt as though he was really writing about me personally and maybe I should put the book down and head over to my nearest psychoanalyst to spend some time laying down on his couch and letting him analyze just what it is about me that makes me so neurotic.   And when I came to the section on religion where he speaks about a woman whose entire problems stemmed from the fact that her mother made her go to Mass and follow the teachings of the Catholic Church I thought that maybe I'd better bring all of my children along with me on that visit to the psychoanalyst's couch.  After all, they surely will all be headed there in the future anyway since I also make my children go to Mass and follow the teachings of the Catholic Church.  Why not save time and energy and just take them there now before I mess them up too much?

You'd think that since I do most of my reading while getting my daily exercise on the elliptical machine, with headphones blasting classic rock or current pop songs into my ears, that it would be hard for me to really get much benefit or understanding out of the books I read, but when I got to the section on Grace, Dr. Peck's words got through to me loud and clear.  I found his ideas about the opposite of love to be fascinating.  In his opinion, the opposite of love isn't hate, it's laziness.

Regarding Adam and Eve and original sin he says:

"The key issue lies in what is missing.  The story suggests that God was in the habit of "walking in the garden in the cool of the day" and that there were open channels of communication between Him and man.  But if this was so, then why was it that Adam and Eve, separately or together, before or after the serpent's urging, did not say to God, "We're curious as to why You don't want us to eat any of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  We really like it here, and we don't want to seem ungrateful, but Your law on this matter doesn't make sense to us, and we'd really appreciate it if you explained it to us"?  But of course they did not say this.  Instead they went ahead and broke God's law without ever understanding the reason behind the law, without taking the effort to challenge God directly, question His authority or even communicate with Him on a reasonably adult level.  They listened to the serpent, but they failed to get God's side of the story before they acted.

Why this failure?  Why was no step taken between the temptation and the action?  It is this missing step that is the essence of sin.  The step missing is the step of debate.  Adam and Eve could have set up a debate between the serpent and God, but in failing to do so they failed to obtain God's side of the question.  The debate between the serpent and God is symbolic of the dialogue between good and evil which can and should occur within the minds of human beings.  Our failure to conduct-or to conduct fully and wholeheartedly-this internal debate between good and evil is the cause of those evil actions that constitute sin.  In debating the wisdom of a proposed course of action, human beings routinely fail to obtain God's side of the issue.  They fail to consult or listen to the God within them, the knowledge of rightness which inherently resides within the minds of all mankind.  We make this failure because we are lazy.  It is work to hold these internal debates.  They require time and energy just to conduct them.  And if we take them seriously-if we seriously listen to this "God within us"-we usually find ourselves being urged to take the more difficult path, the path of more effort rather than less.  To conduct debate is to open ourselves to suffering and struggle.  Each and every one of us, more or less frequently, will hold back from this work, will also seek to avoid this painful step.  Like Adam and Eve, and every one of our ancestors before us, we are all lazy.

So original sin does exist; it is our laziness.  It is very real...laziness takes forms other than that related to one's responsibilities to others.  A major form that laziness takes is fear...Adam and Eve can again be used to illustrate this.  One might say, for instance, that it was not laziness that prevented Adam and Eve from questioning God as to the reasons behind His law but fear-fear in the face of the awesomeness of God, fear of the wrath of God.  But while all fear is not laziness, much fear is exactly that....So it is quite probable that Adam and Eve were afraid of what might happen to them if they were to openly question God; instead they attempted to take the easy way out, the illegitimate shortcut of sneakiness, to achieve knowledge not worked for, and hope they could get away with it.  But they did not."

Dr. Peck's reasoning makes sense to me, and it reminded me of Archbishop Fulton Sheen's poem, "Complain!" that I recently shared here on this blog, because both Dr. Peck's idea and Fulton Sheen's poem encourage complaining to God, not others, whenever we are troubled, unhappy or indecisive.  We should take our concerns to God alone and then silently wait for His answer.  That the silent waiting may take days, weeks, months or years, it doesn't matter.  The point is that God's will for our lives will always be made known to us if we are only willing to do the hard work of asking God, "What do You want from me?  Why did You allow this suffering to take place in my life?  How can I use this experience for Your glory?  What is Your will for this situation and for all of my life?"  And then wait in humble and quiet anticipation for His answer to be revealed to us through the people and events of our lives.

Trust

"In God we trust."  ~motto of the United States

It's the moment of new beginnings, the cusp of a new year, a time when everything is fresh and anything is possible.  I look back on the year just past and find that it was filled with struggle and challenges-what most people would see as opportunities for growth and learning. Unfortunately, my attitude was often one of complaint, grumble and cry.  Most often I felt like St. Teresa of Avila shaking my fist at God and crying, "If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!"  It was far too easy for me to look on the bleak and dreary side of life instead of praising God for all of the varied blessings he bestowed upon me-blessings as simple as having a house to live in and food to eat and as glorious as waking to a beautiful sunrise and being surrounded by family and friends who love me so well despite how poorly I treat them in exchange for their unconditional love.

Each year since I began writing Imprisoned in my Bones, I have chosen a "word" for the year-something that would help me to focus on God and would help me to grow spiritually.  In the past I have chosen "surrender," "accept,"  "deeper," and "embrace."  It's hard to look back and notice whether or not I have actually lived those words throughout the years past, but I hope that in some small way, focusing on  those words has helped me to become just a bit more faithful to God and a bit more holy.  I've a long way to go as my failures to surrender to God's will and to not only accept it but to deeply embrace it have been glaringly obvious to me.  Instead it seems as if I have fought God and His will for me every step of the way. 

So when we fall the only thing we can do is get back up and try again, right?  My plan for 2013 appears to be just another step in the direction of coming to know and follow God's will.  The challenge is making God's will into my will as well.  I want to learn to rely on God's loving plan for me even when it's difficult to believe that He has my best interests at heart.  I want to be able to patiently watch to see how God's plan for my life will unfold.  And if His plan for this year includes suffering and hardships then I want to deeply embrace it, not with complaint, but with quiet surrender.  I want 2013 to be the year that I learn to completely TRUST in God and His will for my life. 

What follows is a reflection that I wrote for the Roses for Our Lady Christmas Newsletter:

"Our Lady was at the most fourteen when the angel came to her; perhaps she was younger. The whole world trembled on the word of a child, on a child's consent…The loudest telling of His presence on earth was to be the heartbeat within the heartbeat of a child. It was to be a secret and God was so jealous of His secret that He even guarded it at the cost of His bride's seeming dishonor…This proved that God knew our Lady's trust in Him was absolutely without limit. Everything that He did to her in the future emphasized the same thing. His trust in her trust of Him." ~Caryll Houselander

The trust of a child. Our Lady embraced it, lived it, and exemplified it. Think of how she silently accepted the scandal of an unwed pregnancy, traveling across a desert on the back of a donkey while heavy with child never quite knowing where her destination would be, giving birth to the Son of God in a dirty stable with no one to help her, being visited by strangers at a moment when most people prefer the familiarity of family and friends, and then shortly after giving birth, having to get up and move to yet another strange land for the safety of her babe. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t complain when she grew weary, when uncertainty was the motif of the day, when hunger gnawed at her stomach, when shelter and comfort were scarce, when danger and fear were abundant. She just said “Yes, God. Whatever you say; I am yours completely and live to serve You alone.”

Can we follow suit? Can we implicitly trust in God’s plans for our lives without ever fully knowing where He might be leading us or how He intends to use us? In the year ahead, can we accept trials and hardships with joy in our hearts, knowing that God’s plans are always perfect even though we often fail to understand how He might be working in our lives? Let’s make 2013 the year where we learn to trust like our Mother, to give our lives completely over to God and to turn to Him in prayer uniting our hearts with Blessed Mary more and more each day.

********************************************************************

( I want to say a special thank you to Nancy Shuman at "The Cloistered Heart,"and "The Breadbox Letters," Patricia at "I Want to See God" and Mary at "The Beautiful Gate" for nominating Imprisoned in my Bones for the "Blog of the Year Award."  You ladies are all so sweet!  And I also offer a long overdue thank you to Karen at "Write to the Point" for awarding this blog with the "Liebster Award" back in October.  Thanks for being such faithful blogging friends!  It is beautiful blogs such as yours and those linked on my blog sidebar that inspire me to continue to write and to strive to trust in God more deeply.)

Sanctuary Lamp

When the sanctuary lamp
of my soul grows dim
and my prayer feels dry
and hope seems slim

I drag through life
on little sleep
heavy with worry
my constant keep

For reasons uncertain
this trembling heart
fails to accept
the love You impart

Your wise and holy wisdom
Your will meant just for me
is cast out by sinful desires
they are all my mind can see

What I want is not what You want
nor can it ever be
for all my frantic grasping
will keep me far from Thee

But there's nothing to fear
for all is surely well
I've only to remain steadfast
and my spirit will swell

With joys and with love
from your beautiful source
Your most Sacred Heart
in the Eucharist, of course

So Jesus stay near me
no matter how hard
I push You away
Your will to discard

I sit before your tabernacle
Your holy house of life
please remove my lack of fervor
ease my relentless strife

O sanctuary lamp of my soul
forever burn bright and strong
reminding me of God's constant presence
deep within me all along

I Won't Give Up

I had thought of my parish as a sanctuary where I could flee from the problems of life.  I had hoped to find comfort and solace in that environment.  Instead I found the cross.

I wanted to shake the dust from my sandals, thinking that I needed to break free from a big part of who I am; I wanted to leave my parish where my family and I have been members for 20 years.  It's the only parish my children have ever known.   I was filled with frustration and anger and resentment and hurt and I wanted out. Things were said that didn't sit well with me and I thought that the only answer to my anger and hurt was to leave and start over fresh somewhere new, someplace where I wouldn't have to face any difficulties over differences from the way I believe, from the way that I thought everyone should believe.  I wanted to belong to a church where everyone believed and spoke just like me.  The thought of leaving felt like a divorce or a death.  My husband and children and I were grieving and we really didn't want to leave.  But I was stubborn and leaving was the only solution, in my opinion. We began to visit other parishes and schools to find someplace new to call home.  It seemed so strange to be in this position because so often in the past I was the one begging others to stay and I was the one mourning over the loss of friends who have left the parish.

As we started to sever the ties by trying to disentangle ourselves from the various ministries and activities to which we were deeply involved, others reached out to us.  We heard from parish staff and parish members who asked us not to leave.  We heard words of love and understanding as well as offers of assistance to face our concerns.  One of my dearest and longest friends said, "I'm praying for you.  I'm not praying so that you stay at the parish; I'm praying so that you will be happy wherever you are."  It felt so good to know that we are loved unconditionally and that if we would leave we would be missed.  I learned that life at a parish is so much more than just the ideologies of a few but instead it's about the love of the many.  A parish is a home and its members are a family no matter how different we all may be.  But learning to get along with others involves some pain-it involves the cross.

As with all things in life, I gave my worry to God, asking Him to show us His will in this matter. And He spoke through my husband who decided that a meeting with our pastor was in order.  So we made an appointment and shared our concerns and he listened in love.  And he told us that everyone is important in a parish and that our differences are what makes a parish rich.  He reminded us of how dull life would be if everyone were the same.  He said that every piece of a puzzle needs to be in place to make a complete picture and he agreed to address the concerns that had hurt my heart.  And his words satisfied us.

So we are staying at our home parish where we belong, where we sit by side with our fellow Catholics at whatever stage of belief we happen to be in and we pray to our One God with whom we are all deeply in love.

I had thought of my parish as a sanctuary where I could flee from the problems of life.  I had hoped to find comfort and solace in that environment.  Instead I found the cross-which is just as it should be.

 Every once in a while a song touches me where no words on their own, without music, can. I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz speaks so eloquently to the importance of holding on, of persevering in loving others, no matter how difficult life can become. These words in particular spoke to me as I prayed through this situation:
 
I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not
And who I am


I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Still looking up.


I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)
God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)
We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)
God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)

You can listen to the entire song at this link.

God Put Me There

When I learned about the death of my neighbor's daughter, I complained to my sister about my sorrow at not knowing my neighbors, and at not being there to comfort them in their grief. And my sister said very matter-of-factly, "If God had wanted you to be there, He would have put you there."

If God had wanted you to be there, He would have put you there.

What blessed words of reassurance reminding us all that wherever we are, whatever situations we may find ourselves in or whatever events we miss in life, it is all through the grace of God's will.  What peace can dwell within our souls if we only remember that God will use us as He sees fit and all we have to do is lovingly and trustingly submit to His actions in our lives.

So often my insecurities and pride cause me discomfort. I find myself in situations where I feel as if I don't fit in, I don't belong.  I wonder how in the world I ever came to be in this particular place at this particular moment and I long to run away, to escape to some private hide-away where I can be alone and won't have to face my responsibilities.  It is then that I only have to remember that God put me there.  He is always with me and I can carry on.

When I don't feel smart enough, beautiful enough, young enough, old enough, rich enough, strong enough, brave enough, holy enough, to accept my present situation in life, I need only remember that God put me there as I am not as who I think I should be.  He is always with me and I can carry on.

Remembering that God put me there will bring peace without regret.  No more will I wonder why I wasn't given a particular blessing or why I wasn't chosen to endure a certain hardship.  I will no longer wonder why I was asked to lead or to follow, to go out or to stay in, to celebrate in a moment of joy or to cry in a time of sorrow.  Learning to accept God's will for my life in each individual situation that I may find myself in will only bring me the peace that can be found from letting go in complete submission to His divine plan.

If God had wanted you to be there, He would have put you there.

Open Up the Roof

"Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him." ~Mark 2:4
















Each day as I spend a few early morning moments in prayer with the daily readings before I attend Mass, I pick out one line to reflect upon throughout the day. Some days that line becomes more meaningful to me than others and the words of scripture with which I have prayed come back frequently as a gentle reminder of God's presence in my life. Yesterday's gospel reading from Mark contained one line, "open up the roof" that seemed to make a particular impact upon me.

My weekends are usually unbelievably busy and this weekend in particular was exceptionally packed with activity. Within our family schedule we had seven basketball games which included my required 8 volunteer hours in the concession stand all to be managed around the weekend work schedules of my husband and I and our three oldest sons and our son Justin's Confirmation retreat, a funeral,a birthday party and the seasonal chore of snow removal. Sometimes it is really difficult to get everyone where they need to be when we are scattered into so many places at once and even with four drivers in the house we still only have two cars so our busy weekends end up being a combination of divide/carpool/conquer!

And somehow, in the midst of all that chaos, I was able to open my roof and allow God to find his way in and to make a profound impact on my life.

On Friday afternoon I raced from work to the funeral of Pat Jakus, a friend of mine from Roses for Our Lady. Pat was such a beautifully holy and energetic woman who always gave her all for God and even the way she died was a testimony to the joys that God offers to those who love Him. Pat was a lector at her parish and last week while offering her service as a lector during a funeral Mass at her parish, she proclaimed this beautiful passage:

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." ~Romans 8:38

Then she looked over to the priest, offered a big smile, and as she proceeded to climb the steps to the choir loft she suddenly felt tired and out of breath. She sat on the bottom step, rested her head against the wall and died while the choir was singing "Alleluia."

What a beautiful way for Pat, or for anyone, to die! Clearly Pat lived her life with her roof wide open and so even in her death it was easy for Jesus to find His way into her heart.

Later that night, with thoughts of Pat and the funeral still working through my mind and heart, I was serving up hot dogs and popcorn at my son Jack's basketball game while two teams were battling it out on the court. The sounds of shoes squeaking, fans cheering and coaches calling out plays were ringing through the air. The plays that the coaches call are usually the names of college basketball teams, but at one point I was sure I heard a coach call out "God's will!" Maybe it was just my over-tired imagination having it's way with me at the end of a long day but I thought whether or not that was actually what the coach said, "God's will" would be the perfect name of a play for shouldn't we all plan out every action of our lives with God's will as the ultimate playbook behind our movements? And so the words that I imagined the coach to say became a reminder to me to keep my roof open at all times to allow the will of God to reach me.

I was feeling a bit of sorrow that I wasn't able to convince my boss to let me have Saturday morning off from work because there was a big pro-life rally planned in our Archdiocese and I had really wanted to attend, as if I didn't already have enough going on this weekend! So when I awoke on Saturday morning and opened my email, I found a message from our local 40 Days for Life leader inviting early arrivals to come pray at the abortion mill as there was word that a 14 year-old-girl might be coming for an abortion today. I wanted to open my roof and respond.

My oldest son John was my designated car-pool ride to work, so he and I left home early so that we could spend some time praying at the abortion mill before I would have to leave for work. We arrived at the abortuary at 7:15 AM dressed for the arctic tundra as the temperature was only 16 degrees outside. (Hard to believe that it had been an unseasonably 60 degrees just a few days before!) When we arrived we were the only ones at the clinic but we were soon joined by a woman and three men holding signs. Just before we left, three clinic employees arrived ready to begin the work of death. All morning while at work, my heart remained in those frigid temperatures outside the abortion clinic praying for that young, pregnant girl and all of those affected by abortion including those three employees who seemed so cheerful about beginning their work day. And I prayed, "Dear God, open the roof of the hearts of the abortion mill employees and those seeking an abortion to allow the light of Your love and truth to enter in!"

It seems so strange to consider the differing locations of a beautiful funeral, a rowdy basketball game and a desolate place of death as places where God's will can be heard and acted upon equally and yet this weekend I found it to be very true that it really doesn't matter where we are or what we are doing, if there is joy and love in our hearts and a desire to please the Lord, He will always have His way with us and it is His will that will be accomplished in all things and all ways if we only open our roofs to allow it.

Kneeling in the Manger

These final days before Christmas bring exhaustion as the work of preparing to make merry brings wear and tear to my body and my soul. In spite of my weariness, I lie awake with worry heavy on my heart for my son who'd been sick with a sore throat earlier this month who has developed unusual complications. He had been fatigued and burning with fever, throat bright red and raw, yet he quickly healed as the virus seemed to move out of his body. Except it didn't. We didn't realize that the infection simply took up residence in a lymph node which generously shared its infective germs with the muscle in Joe's neck. Now with neck swollen to the size of a tennis ball, the pain rages from ear to sternum and my son can't move his head at all for the suffering he bears. Antibiotics should surely bring effective healing but the threat of an emergency room visit on Christmas Eve looms over our heads if that healing doesn't happen quickly.

In the middle of the night, I silently step into my son's room and kneel at the side of his bed, listening to his breath coming heavy and deep, and I offer a wordless prayer, just a movement of the heart in God's direction, a prayer that is for both of my sons who sleep in that room, as morning will bring a final psychological examination as part of the application process for seminary for my oldest son and I know that he carries stress and worry in his heart over that process-over the fear of the unknown-both regarding what the test will be like and whether or not he will be accepted to the seminary. My heart is heavy with a mother's love.

And I think of Mary and Joseph kneeling in the manger, cold and hungry, tired and scared, in prayer and adoration for their Son, the King. Fear and worry surely must have gripped their hearts as well-fear of the unknown abiding side by side with a deep love for their child. Were they, like me, unable to find words of prayer? Were they simply opening their hearts to God's presence in trustful surrender to whatever His plan would bring for their lives? I know the answer to my question is yes; they did surrender wholly to God's plan and so I will, too.

I will let my worry and my sorrow go and I will cling to peaceful trust in God as an offering for all of those who have larger worries this Christmas-for those who have suffered the loss of a loved one at this time of year when they want more than ever to be in the presence of those they love, for all of the clients who come to the WIC Clinic in droves trying to find some financial assistance to provide healthy foods for their families as their pocketbooks are strained by the burden of buying gifts, for those families who spend Christmas in the hospital kneeling at the bedside of their children who are ill with serious diseases such as cancer, for parents whose children have rebelled against their authority, against the law and against God and have brought the wounds of deep and cutting pain to the hearts of those who love them, and for all of those who feel a searing loneliness within-for all of these people, too, are kneeling in the manger.

My sorrow and worry is small and placed in the hands of God it is quickly overshadowed by His great love. Kneeling in the manger of my sons' room as they sleep I know that my blessings far outweigh my struggles and with Mary and Joseph to accompany me on my life's journey I will surely be able to bear whatever sorrows come my way by following their example of trustful surrender to the Holy Will of God.

A Change of Heart

“A man with two sons told the older boy, ‘Son, go out and work on the farm today.’ ‘I won’t,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. Then the father told the youngest, ‘You go!’ and he said, ‘Yes, sir, I will.’ But he didn’t. Which of the two was obeying his father?” Matthew 21:28-31

Sometimes we try to shut out the word of God and His will for us while we enjoy the indulgence of worldly pleasures. We pray with St. Augustine, “Lord, make me chaste, just not yet!” In this season of silent waiting, sometimes it is God who patiently waits for us to accept His will for our life.

Thirteen years ago I was pregnant with my third son in three years. I had just quit my job to stay home with the babies, when my husband lost his job. Frantically worried...keep reading...