Depth Perception-Fr. Don Hying

I'm looking deeper within my soul this year trying to come to a peaceful acceptance of the life that God has given me in both the blessings and the burdens. One of the blessings that God often uses to help me look deep within myself is my good friend, Fr. Don Hying, the rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee. Through his words of wisdom I see myself a little more clearly, I understand myself a little bit better, and gradually I am growing into a deeper acceptance of myself while falling more deeply in love with God. Once again, Fr. Don generously shares his words of wisdom, his scriptural reflection on this Sunday's gospel (Jn 9:1-41), from his most recent Catholic Herald column, with Imprisoned in my Bones readers.



The post-communion song at a wedding I celebrated recently was titled: “If you could see what I see.” The singer ardently wishes that his beloved could see herself as he sees her, because she is so beautiful, authentic and good, but then comes to realize that she can only come to see and know herself through his eyes and perception, as long as he keeps telling her who he sees and how that feels to him.

Today’s Gospel is the moving narrative of the man born blind who is healed by Jesus. Last week was the woman at the well; next week is the raising of Lazarus. These three narratives from John’s Gospel are models of conversion, using the images of water, light and new life and serve as profound reflections both for the catechumens preparing for baptism and the entire Church in this season of Lent. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly heals blind people, not only of their physical disability but, more to the point, their lack of spiritual vision.

Our world today is becoming increasingly visual, from posting pictures on Facebook to streaming video on the Web to visualized conversations that are texted. Yet, we can easily remain on the superficial plane of the exterior of things, accepting at face value what we rapidly perceive, but never lingering long enough to dig below the surface of the images that others present to us. Depth perception requires prayer, silence and reflection.

If we just skim along the top layer of Catholicism, the Eucharist becomes a sentimental symbol, the Scriptural stories of Christ become like bedtime tales, and the moral life a naïve and unreachable ideal. If our heart and spirit is not moving ever more deeply into the vast mystery of God, our religious practice quickly becomes an empty ritual that we eventually put in a drawer along with our faded First Communion pictures and broken childhood rosaries.

I know when I am giving prayer short shrift in my life because I stop seeing, truly perceiving the miraculous truth, stunning beauty and overwhelming goodness that surround me. When I go on retreat at New Melleray Abbey, a Trappist monastery in rural Iowa, having stepped away from the ceaseless routine, I immediately see everything in a different light. The sunrise becomes a cosmic event, filled with pulsating light; the birds in the trees are performing a symphony better than any concert hall can offer and the food tastes spectacular because I am actually taking the time to enjoy it.

In reading the lives of Saint Camillus and Saint John of God, two remarkable servants of the sick, I have always been fascinated and inspired by their ability to literally see Christ in the people they served, the more repulsive the better. Their spiritual vision of the Lord in the suffering has a palpability to it, a tangibility that saves it from being a pious thought. The saints loved so astoundingly and sacrificially because they saw the world from God’s perspective. Standing in the dazzling light of Christ, they saw life and death, good and evil, the beauty, tragedy and possibility of the human person in such vivid colors, that they felt their experiences with a passion that we can barely comprehend, and thus did the heroic and bold thing.

Is my vision improving this Lent? Is Sunday Eucharist a consummation of God’s love in my soul? Do I see the beautiful possibilities in the people around me or only their problems and faults? Underneath the thousand details that make up the surface of my life, am I embracing a deep interiority of prayer that, every once in awhile, leads me to the very heartbeat of God? Am I coming to literally see Christ in the poor, the sick, the Mass, the Gospel, the rising of the sun, and my own little life?

In the first reading, Samuel anoints David as king, much to the astonishment of his family. Then he says, “Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance but the Lord looks into the heart.” Through faith, prayer and the sacraments, Jesus gradually heals our vision, to see as He sees and then to become an extension of His love and presence in the world.

Pieces of Prayer

I bend to pick up a colorful bit of glass,
rub the sand off, and whisper a prayer...
again and again I repeat the action-
bend, rub and pray as I place the sea glass in my bag

before long I have a bag full of pieces of prayer
representing my gratitude and my worry
tangible reminders of my solitary walk
with the Lord on the lakeshore

and my soul feels His peace
through my pieces of prayer

whether the wind blows fierce under sky of gray
and the waves violently crash into rocky shore
or the day is mild with blue sky
and water gently laps at the beach
I am there walking along the water
collecting my pieces of prayer

and my soul feels His peace
through my pieces of prayer

St. Photini

"Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,' you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” John 4:5-42






















In the Orthodox tradition the woman at the well is honored as St. Photini. After her interaction with Christ she converted to Christianity, was baptized by the apostles and given the name Photini which means "the enlightened one". She became a tireless evangelist drawing many others to faith in Christ. In the words of Fr. Dave Cooper, "Christ gave her the gift of faith and she in turn gave that gift back to Him."

My parish has a reputation for being "liberal." I am often asked why I belong to such a liberal parish and it makes me think of the classic pick-up line, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" The truth is, like the sinful woman at the well, I too, am sinful, have met Christ and have been converted. My guess is that everyone of us can call that statement true for themselves, whether we are comfortable admitting our sinfulness or not. Like St. Photini, my parish has been judged and labeled as liberal without the benefit of anyone looking deep within to see the good and holy people who belong there and who do their best to turn from sin and follow the gospel.

According to Fr. Dave, "We don't even know for sure that the living arrangements and lifestyle of the woman at the well was sinful. Could it be that she outlived her previous husbands and now the man with whom she was living was scared to marry her for fear that he would suffer the same fate of death? Yet we are quick to judge her and label her a sinful woman."

In the same vein, people are often quick to judge my parish and everyone who belongs there as liberal, dissenting Catholics who only want to change the Church rather than obediently follow the Pope as we should. I think if people want to see that in my parish, they will, but in truth, there may be just as many dissenting Catholics in parishes that are labeled traditional.

Only Christ can see the truth in our individual hearts. Only Christ can offer us the gift of faith and ask us to return it to him by loving all of those in our midst-liberal or traditional. It is Christ who is coming to us on our mountainside whether we are Jew or Samaritan, traditional or liberal, it is Christ who is calling us to conversion, to a change of heart, to see Him in all things and all people and in turn to share Him with all who cross our path, to evangelize and share our faith with the world.

St. Photini, you were judged as a sinful woman. Whether this is true or not, we know that we all carry sin in our hearts and are in need of the forgiveness that only Christ can provide. Be an example for us of the joy that comes from abandoning our sinful pasts for a new life in the living waters of the Lord. Be with us as we strive to share our faith with others. Amen.

Angels of Annunciation

On this most blessed of Feast Days, my two youngest children and I walked into the pediatrician's office for a quick check up and were surprised when he asked them if they knew what feast day it was today. (They didn't know, much to my embarrassment!) So a big thank you to Dr. Swietlik for the quick religion lesson! How blessed our family is to have a doctor who combines medicine with faith!

I've been blessedly busy these days with my new role in the lay organization Roses for Our Lady. It's been a wonderfully challenging opportunity for me, but it leaves little time for writing or reading blogs, much to my dismay. So, I hope that you will enjoy this re-post for the Feast of the Annunciation. It's one of my favorites and I hope that it will become one of your favorites as well!

Angels of Annunciation

Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God”…Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her. Luke 1: 26-38




















We all have annunciation moments, but unfortunately, we are often unaware of exactly what is happening to us. Sometimes in our busyness we become so preoccupied with ourselves and our own needs that we fail to recognize those angels when they come to us.

In my job as a WIC (Women, Infants and Children) Nutritionist, I have found that the angels of annunciation come to me nearly constantly, but I can be so focused on what I have to do after work, or some problem with my children that nags at the back of my mind, or my own level of fatigue from lack of sleep, that I can let those angels in and out of my office all day long without realizing who they are. What a shame!

But when I open my heart and open my eyes, I see that angels of annunciation are plentiful. God is trying to speak to me through them all day, every day, and when I recognize them, I can’t help but be changed by their message.

I recently met an angel who was a drug addict suffering from the horrific pains of withdrawal. Instead of sitting in my usual seat of judgment, I opened my heart to recognize that the message she was telling me was “Do not be afraid, God is calling you to see through my addiction, to find Jesus inside me. Jesus suffered terribly and now I am suffering as well. Are you open to helping me? It is you that God is calling, you are the favored one.” So I listened to her story, with tears in my eyes and I was able to offer her comfort and assistance. I became the handmaid of the Lord.

I also met an angel who was a student working through her dietetic internship requirements for graduation. Instead of rushing through my usual day trying to get my job done, I opened my heart to recognize the message that she was telling me was “Do not be afraid, God is calling you to see that you were once in my shoes. Are you open to helping me? It is you that God is calling, you are the favored one.” So I slowed down from my busy agenda and found the patience to teach her the steps required to give nutrition counseling to young mothers in need. I became the handmaid of the Lord.

One of my favorite angels was a two-year-old girl going through the negative stages through which every two-year-old must pass. Instead of becoming irritated by her temper tantrums and constant use of the word “NO”, I opened my heart to recognize the message that she was telling me was “Do not be afraid, God is calling you to offer me kindness, to remember that it is the little ones such as these to whom Jesus offered the Kingdom of God. Are you open to helping me? It is you that God is calling, you are the favored one.” So I turned to her with a smile. I offered her a book, a compliment and a pat on the head. She walked out of my office with a smile on her face, calling out “I love you!” “I love you, too!” I called back. I became the handmaid of the Lord.

God’s angels of annunciation are coming to you as well. They are in every person that crosses your path. Will you be open to their messages? Will you hear them say “Do not be afraid, you have found favor with God?" Will you feel God’s Spirit coming to you and allow yourself to be open to it? Say yes! Become the handmaid of the Lord and watch the world transform into a beautiful place!

Happy Feast of the Annunciation!

a re-post from 6/09, 3/10 and also found on Catholicmom.com

Blessed Is the Fruit of Your Womb

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9

We were alone outside the abortuary on a chilly March evening. It was the first time that any of us had gone to pray at the abortion mill, to make our prayers of supplication for the lives who had not yet been given a voice. The clinic was closed and the busy urban neighborhood was just picking up the feel of nightlife as couples walked by arm in arm, rowdy groups walked into the bar next door, the tattoo shop across the street turned on the flickering neon light, and cars quickly entered and departed from the gas station.

My husband and I, along with our friend, Dave, drew our rosaries from our pockets and prayed the sorrowful mysteries in front of this place that knows far too many sorrows. Dave reminded us that wherever two or three are gathered in His name, there the Lord is also, and he then read some scripture. We shared some uplifting stories about converted abortionists and those who work tirelessly for the pro-life effort. The chill was entering more deeply into our bones and we were getting ready to leave when a man came and stood next to us in silence.

Dave broke the ice and greeted him. He said that he had just wanted to pray the rosary. I told him that we would be happy to pray the rosary with him and so we retrieved our beads from our pockets once again and we prayed another set of the sorrowful mysteries. Each time I spoke the words "Blessed is the fruit of your womb," something moved inside my heart, and I realized that here, in this place where more prayer is offered than in any other secular place, those words have a profound meaning. Blessed is the fruit of every womb, for all life is in His image. And in this place, that fruit is cast out and treated as if it were rotted, decayed, without worth. It isn't offered the dignity in which a blessing from God should be held. The fifth sorrowful mystery occurs again and again here as those precious babies are crucified and cast out from their mother's wombs.

"Prayer reaches out to where we cannot be." Dan Miller, coordinator, 40 Days for Life-Milwaukee

So our prayers went out for the mothers who, feeling their own agony in their desolate part of the garden of life, don't know or understand the value of the life they carry within them.

"Forgive them Father, for they don't know what they do." Luke 23:34

And our prayers went out for the workers whose eyes are blind and whose hearts are cold to the heinous crime they commit day in and day out as they scourge the innocents without restraint.

"There are six things the Lord hates, yes, seven are an abomination to him; haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood." Proverbs 6:16-19

And our prayers went out for the seeds of life that had been planted with no one to garden and tend them to fruition.

"I am the vine. You are the branches. He that remains in me will bear great fruit." John 15:5

And when we were through, and we turned to say good-bye to the man who had joined us, he thanked us for praying with him. He told us that he was in the neighborhood and just felt like coming here and praying, that it had been quite a few years since he had prayed at this clinic. And then he told us that the man he used to come here and pray with many years ago was Fr. Don Hying, the same priest whose words about his prayer experience at these doors of death inspired me to want to come here to pray.

Today, at this place where souls have been tragically lost far more often than they are saved, I felt the presence of God. Although I was now shivering from the cold, my heart was warm, for I knew that my prayers and the prayers of those who joined me would somehow bring the blessed fruit within the womb of a desperate young mother to life.

And as we walked back to Dave's van, we saw a young couple walking arm in arm, smiling and laughing with one another, and we couldn't help but notice that her womb was ripe with a growing life.

"Truly you have formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother¹s womb. I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made; wonderful are your works. My soul also you knew full well; nor was my frame unknown to you when I was made in secret, when I was fashioned in the depths of the earth"
Psalm 139:13-15

Prayer of the Icon

every movement of the brush
every drop of paint carefully
released to the wood

is a prayer written with care
from a heart
overflowing with love

and I look at the icon of
Christ, the King of my heart
and I pray

for the one whose
craft brought this image
of Christ to life

the icon of Christ
is alive for me
I can almost see His heart beating

hear His voice calling to me
whispering words of love to me
His servant

my King reminds me
that the pains of this world
will be overcome

and one day I will rejoice with Him
forever in the splendor
of His Most Sacred Heart

O Jesus, King of my heart
how I long for that day
when our hearts will eternally be one!

~many, many thanks to Christi, my sweet friend, whose many hours of prayer while writing icons must be the source of her love, generosity and kindness-the above picture of the Most Holy Sacred Heart of Jesus is the work of her steady brush and her heart-felt prayer

The Chair

Last fall I was visiting one of my all-time favorite places, The Salzmann Library at St. Francis de Sales Seminary, when I was greeted by a mass of chairs as I walked in the door. "What's up with the chairs?" I asked Mark, one of the library staff members, and was told that they were being put away in storage where nobody would probably ever see them again. I couldn't help but notice what nice condition they were in. "Too bad," I said. "We could use nice chairs like that in our house. My kids are forever stepping on the spindles and breaking them. It drives my husband nuts. I think that when he dies, he will have a bottle of glue in his hand as a testimony to all of the time he has spent gluing the chairs back together!"

The same thing could have been said about my own father. He was forever repairing chairs and then fussing about how recklessly we nine kids would sit in them, often rocking back on two legs, or not having them evenly balanced just right on the uneven kitchen floor so they wouldn't wobble. It must be the curse of fatherhood to worry about kitchen chairs!

As I was lost in those youthful memories, Mark took me by surprise when he asked me how many chairs I would like to take home with me, and then he helped me load up the back of my van. What fun it is to have part of my favorite place in my very own home! My family and I are now the proud owners of eight fine, used library chairs and we make very good use of them every night at the dinner table.

Or not.

I wonder, does every family with a majority of teenage boys have as much constant chaos in it as mine does? Dinner always includes loud and lively banter about the fights they witnessed at school, which teacher gives the least homework or the latest sports news, all mixed in with a healthy dose of teasing one another.

While dishes are assigned and everyone is busy clearing the table and heading off for homework or evening activities, there is sure to be some type of physical steam being aggressively released as the boys begin with good-natured slapping that often ends up in a physical wrestle of sorts. Tonight was no different as a classic scene of rough-housing ensued with one son teasing, the other punching back. But to our horror one son got carried away and picked up one of our precious library chairs in a classic WWF wrestling move and lifted it as if he were going to swing it at his brother. Dad effectively put an end to that nonsense.

All he had to say was "Hey! A priest sat in that chair!" and the fight was over with the chair once again gently placed at the kitchen table, and the two troublemakers doing dinner dishes as punishment for their crime. Such is the respect our family feels for the priesthood, that holy and venerable vocation, that an ordinary chair can become a sacred item simply because a priest had used it during his Seminary studies!

Finding the sacred in the ordinary-isn't it amazing that God reveals his presence in the simple things? In addition to chairs, I have gratefully found Him in--

~an unbuttoned coat on a March afternoon
~gentle words of understanding from a friend
~the shifting sands of the beach after the snow melts
~the gift of hearty bread from Sister Doris each week
~the North Star lighting the sky and guiding my life
~a note of thanks in the mail with the gift of icons enclosed
~using the gifts He has given me to work for His glory
~laughter at the dinner table after a long day
~working off the weight and the stress on the elliptical trainer
~lake so blue I could melt in it

Where do you find the sacred in your ordinary?