As we worship, so we believe and so we live

As I am trying to help my parish prepare for the upcoming change to the Roman Missal I ran across this time-tested phrase, “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi”, which is Latin for ‘the law of prayer’ or ‘the way we worship’ is the ‘law of belief’ ‘what we believe’. It is sometimes expanded to as, “lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi”, further deepening the implications of this truth - how we worship reflects what we believe and determines how we will live. I have seen this so much in my own life. When I trust in Him, I am able to give love to others. When I give way to my fears and doubts—thinking God can’t do what He promises—then I’m no good to Him or anyone else in my life.

Two days ago, on Thursday the 28th of July I made my annual pilgrimage to Okarche Oklahoma, an hour drive from my home across the white hot mostly flat plains, to pay respect to the final burial place of Father Stanley Rother who may well become our state's first Catholic martyr and saint. Thirty years ago he was shot down by unknown men who broke into his rectory in Guatemala. Fr. Rother’s ‘cause’ for canonization was submitted to Rome last year. I attended the Mass. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such an event and it moved me greatly. I’ve met his younger brother on several occasions and I met his sister then. They are a lovely family. But I digress.

When I drove to Holy Trinity Church this past week, I thought I was going for several hours of quiet reflection and prayer—as had been the case in the past. However the new parish priest had instituted more active “Holy Hours” with vocal rosaries, Benediction, praying of the prayer for Father Rother and music. Different groups had volunteered to lead each prayer hour.

I won’t say I wasn’t disappointed in one sense. I was desperately longing for the quiet. In my job, I deal with people all day every day. Then I come home to my family, who I love very much and need to talk to also. So there is more talk, and radios, television going and then my daughter’s friends come over. Often there are friends from church to visit in the hospital, funerals, required social functions, out-of-town family visiting, etc. Quiet is sometimes hard to come by. I treasure it. And yet, to be able to pray with these other people was also an opportunity.

As I entered into the prayer and calmed myself, I realized it wasn’t about how much quiet time I got that afternoon, but that I was there praying, accepting things as they were. So often I know I’m ruining whatever occasion because I’m trying to “fix it”. I have spent entire events thinking, “If only they had done this or that, then it would have been perfect!” Or other times I’ll spoil things by chastising myself for my own mistakes. I would call them opportunities lost, were they not lessons learned.

Thursday, I let the prayer sweep over me and into me. I was grateful for our Catholic “Law of Prayer” which has order and form. I felt the strength coming from the discipline of repetition. Just like with exercising one’s body, you have to exercise your spirit, except we ‘exercise’ the spirit with regular prayer. It isn’t God who needs our prayers; it is us poor sinners who need to pray. As I said my fourth rosary for the day, I knew that God hadn’t given me what I wanted, but what I needed—as usual.

Thanks be to Him!

For a much better explanation on this subject, read, Is Ritual Prayer “Vain Repetition”.

The Mystery of Glory

I used to struggle with sorrow. In my youthful naiveté, it seemed the world just should be happy—or joyful. That it wasn’t I knew, but nevertheless I clung to the belief that it should not be as it was, i.e., often a sad place.

But at some point in time—or at some level—I came to embrace the Season of Lent in a way I enter into no other liturgical season of the year. Though it is a time of penance, prayer and fasting—things not usually associated with happiness and joy—I look forward to these weeks every year as the best, so much so that I often experience a letdown at Easter. Instead of rejoicing with the rest of the Church triumphant for six weeks after Lent, I spend six weeks reminiscing over the loss of the closeness I felt to Jesus when I was carrying a cross of sacrifice.

My question now is how do we as poor weak humans share in His Glory? This Easter Season, I am resolved—with the help of the Holy Spirit—to pray the Glorious Mysteries every day and meditate on these mysteries: The Resurrection; The Ascension of Our Lord into Heaven; The Descent of the Holy Spirit; The Assumption of Mary and The Coronation of Mary. If I am graced with understanding on even one of these great mysteries I will count myself blessed indeed, for truly when I contemplate them, they amaze, overwhelm, awe and confound my feeble human capabilities—which is probably as it should be.

Nevertheless, if it be God’s Will, I desire this Easter Season to be as spiritually fruitful as has been the Lent which has just past.

We should be joyful.

There is much sorrow.

I want to believe in the Glory and the Power forever ... so I do. But I know I don’t begin to understand it ... or Him. Glory mystifies me.

Oh Lord I believe. Help my unbelief. ~Mark 9:24

For Rose

Today I am staying home and remembering a friend who died Wednesday night at the hands of her sixteen year old grandson. She was 57, just a few years older than me. I‘ve known Rose almost since we arrived here in Oklahoma in 1998 when my husband was still on active duty in the Air Force and we were members of the Tinker Catholic Parish of St. Francis of Assisi.

Rose got me started in the hospital ministry, visiting and bringing Holy Communion to the sick and dying. I was in a lot pain myself at the time—my psoriatic arthritis was years away from diagnosis and treatment—and Rose helped me find the inner confidence to minister to those more ill than myself.

Rose always ran circles around me in terms of what she could do. She was brash and sometimes loud. Although she rubbed some people the wrong way, she had a heart of gold and would help anyone in need. After my husband retired and we switched to an off-base parish, I saw Rose less but got to know her best friend, who later became my oldest daughter’s Religious Education teacher and Confirmation Sponsor. I kept up with Rose though her. We often got together as a group and went out to dinner after Saturday evening Mass.

The last time I really visited with Rose was at my daughter’s Graduation party. Rose never missed an opportunity to celebrate ‘family’. She believed in God, love and family. She believed in the young grandson¹ who brutally took her and her husband’s² lives two nights ago. This isn’t easy for me to get my mind much less my heart around today.

I think it’s going to take awhile ... to say the least. I have been crying off and on ever since I heard the news.

I have heard and in fact already know all the truisms about such tragedies.

“She’s in a better place.” Yes, I believe she is.

“She isn’t hurting anymore.” Yes, thank God!

“It doesn’t help to dwell on how she died.” No, it never helps to dwell on violence.

“Prayer is a great healer.” It truly is and I have been and am praying.

“You will see her again someday.” Yes, the best thing about our faith is that certainty of eternity with our God.

I'm not looking for answers or quick fixes or even anything to ease the pain. I don’t need to have everything fixed today. I don't need any answers, because anything easy I can think to say just sounds trite. Maybe I just need to remember my friend—as she was—with humble gratitude for the gift of her life and all she gave me; remember her and grieve.

Here’s to Rose ... and Dave

May you live forever with Him Whom you served.

With much love,




¹The grandson is in custody where hopefully he will stay. He needs our prayers more than anyone; however, he also needs to be physically restrained so that he cannot do anyone any more harm.

² I don’t mean to ignore Dave, Rose’s husband, in this post. It’s just that I didn’t know him as well as I did her. But I do know he was a very quiet, gentle man who loved her.

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God

Recently I listened to Jonathan Edward’s famous sermon, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. I had heard of it yet never read it. My initial reaction was surprise. This was the sermon which provoked the 'Great Awakening'? I had to walk away and find something else to do. I prayed a lot the next day and fortunately it was my day off so I had the time to do it.

Also fortunately, the readings yesterday at Mass were about an incident where Jesus becomes angry. Perfect. This allowed me to prayerfully write this book review for goodreads:

'Reflecting on Edward’s sermon, there’s nothing technically wrong with it and yet still it doesn’t ring true. It doesn’t sound like the same God I have come to know through the Jesus I’ve met in the Gospels. Where is the Abba, Father we are supposed to address our prayers to?

Yes, Jesus does become angry in the Gospels. In the Gospel of Mark in particular, Jesus is portrayed as rather impatient, brusque even. He curses the fig tree—symbolic of barren Israel and a parable on the fate of Jerusalem—and it withers. He trashes the moneychangers in the Temple and then he teaches. He teaches. Like all good parents, he gets his children’s attention with a little anger and then proceeds to explain its meaning, why he lost his temper.

And why did he become angry? What are the wayward children doing which has led to this? What does Jesus tell them? That God delights in holding his children in Divine suspension until it is His pleasure to send them to the fiery abyss? No. ‘That the reason why they are not fallen already and do not fall now is only that God's appointed time is not come?’ No. Hear what happens in the Gospel immediately after the incident at the Temple with the moneychangers:

‘Peter remembered and said to him, "Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered." Jesus said to them in reply, "Have faith in God. Amen, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen; it shall be done for him. Therefore I tell you, all that you ask for in prayer, believe that you will receive it and it shall be yours. When you stand to pray, forgive anyone against whom you have a grievance, so that your heavenly Father may in turn forgive you your transgressions." (Mark 11:24-26)

Peter sounds like a little boy excitedly reporting news to his favorite teacher, which in fact was exactly what was happening. Jesus told them to believe in God, to pray and to forgive each other so that God would be able to forgive them in kind. Does this sound like an angry God? Not to me. And if you go back and read that whole chapter slowly and in context, I promise a fuller picture emerges—as always happens when you sit down with the Jesus of the Gospels. He is desperate to talk to us. Angry? No. Passionate? Yes! There is love and deep compassion in his every word.

Yes, there will be justice along with mercy; that is in fact true mercy. Those who deliberately, with full knowledge, choose to turn their backs on God will get their heart’s desire.

I wanted to be moved by this famous sermon. Well, I suppose I was, just not in the way I’d hoped. God is a God of Love and Love is the most powerful force in the universe, more powerful than anger by far. Perhaps where Love is weak, we humans build up other things to fill the gap. I don’t know.

The thing I am most sad about, however, is that Edwards didn’t persuade me. We have no shortage of sin and I know it must cause Our Lord a great deal of anguish because he loves us all so very much. Sadly, Edwards is 100% right about the eternal suffering of those who are bent on refusing and denying God. They will surely get what they have asked for.

An excellent rendering of this classic sermon may be heard on Sermon Audio. However, I suspect the reader, David Bruce Sonner, presents a much more matter-of-fact version of this hellfire and brimstone text than that which was first given by Edwards on that July day in 1741.'

Simply Pray ...

...and pray simply.

My friend called last Friday night to remind me about the Oklahoma Catholic Women’s Conference the next day. With snow storms, no work or school and numerous other cancellations all week, I’d completely forgotten I even had any other scheduled activities except for Religious Education classes on Sunday—which I was still anxiously watching the weather and trying to decide on ... ‘yeah’ or ‘nay’.

“So?” she asked, “Are we getting up and going to 8 a.m. Mass? Or are we going to wait and go in when the first scheduled speaker begins at 10?”

We went to Mass because of course we knew we’d be much happier with ourselves and we were. Time was when I would have slept in, spent more money and left early. But Mass was worth getting up for, in spite of cleaning the snow and ice off my husband’s car and that cup of coffee afterwards was all the better for having waited for it.

I visited all the vendors but I have enough books at home. I just finished My Life with the Saints and The Secret of the Rosary (for the second or third time). I’m finishing Messenger and planning to read A Travel Guide to Heaven. I don’t need any books. What I was looking for was special little things which might inspire or encourage or help those I love. So many people I know are bearing crosses of one sort or another. Then I ran across this box of cards of “The Golden Hail Mary”. Each card reads as follows:

A Golden Hail Mary

One Fervent “Hail Mary,”
With love and thought said,
Is better than volumes of
Prayers poorly read.

If time and one’s duties
Prevent a long prayer,
Just say one “Hail Mary”
From the heart and with care.

The greatest of blessings
From Mary it brings;
Like flowers and birds
And the waters of springs.

We never will know
Till before Mary’s throne,
How that daily “Hail Mary”
Brought us to her home.

That’s what I bought. That’s what I’ve been saying ever since. It’s such a simple prayer. And yet as I learned when I read St. Louis De Montfort’s classic, The Secret of the Rosary, the Angel

‘Gabriel's greeting to Our Lady is one of the most beautiful hymns which we can possibly sing to the glory of the Most High. “I will sing a new song to you.” This new hymn which David foretold was to be sung at the coming of the Messiah is none other than the Angelic Salutation. There is an old hymn and a new hymn: the first is that which the Jews sang out of gratitude to God for creating them and maintaining them in existence -- for delivering them from captivity and leading them safely through the Red Sea -- for giving them manna to eat and for all His other blessings.

The new hymn is that which Christians sing in thanksgiving for the graces of the Incarnation and the Redemption. As these marvels were brought about by the Angelic Salutation, so do we repeat the same salutation to thank the Most Blessed Trinity for His immeasurable goodness to us.

We praise God the Father because He so loved the world that He gave us His only Son as our Savior. We bless the Son because He deigned to leave heaven and come down upon earth -- because HE WAS MADE Man and redeemed us. We glorify the Holy Spirit because he formed Our Lord's pure Body in Our Lady's Womb -- this Body which was the Victim of our sins. In this spirit of deep thankfulness should we, then, always say the Hail Mary, making acts of faith, hope, love, and thanksgiving for the priceless gift of salvation.

Although this new hymn is in praise of the Mother of God and is sung directly to her, nevertheless it greatly glorifies the Most Blessed Trinity because any homage that we pay Our Lady returns inevitably to God Who is the cause of all her virtues and perfections. When we honor Our Lady: God the Father is glorified because we are honoring the most perfect of His Creatures; God the Son is glorified because we are praising His most pure Mother, and God the Holy Spirit is glorified because we are lost in admiration at the graces with which He has filled His Spouse.’

There is much more, but that is enough for now.

The important thing is simply to pray. Don’t have time for an entire Rosary? Say one Hail Mary—one GOLDEN Hail Mary—with all that is in your heart. Don’t have your Bible? Say one Our Father, the prayer taught us by Our Lord Himself, the perfect prayer, the prayer which says it all. Too stressed to think? Say the Jesus Prayer. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God have Mercy on me a sinner.” Afraid? Say the Apostle’s Creed. There is power in affirming one’s belief in God. Too sick to pray? Call on the Holy Name of Jesus, the Name which is a prayer itself. Jesus! Jesus!

And I offer One Golden Hail Mary for all of you today!

Persistence + Patience = Progress

I did not want to get out of bed this morning. I was tired from yesterday’s exertions and it was warm under the covers. But I had an appointment to go meet with my trainer at the gym. Ugh! That was the very last thing I wanted to do. My days off from work were making me even lazier than normal.

If there had been a max on the snooze button, I would have reached it. Finally I got up. Was it Grace or my Guardian Angel? I know I don’t deserve the credit.

The snow was coming down in small flakes when I arrived at the nearly deserted gym. I admitted my lack of ambition to my trainer. “Good for you for coming anyway!” she cheered me on. While I appreciated her encouragement, I little thought I deserved it.

Surprisingly even though I had been mostly sedentary during the week, I had a good, if moderate, work out. No gold medals here unless they give them for showing up and hanging in there...

Later back at home, it was almost the same struggle to make myself pray.

I don’t feel like praying God. What is “praying” anyway? I’m just saying words... I guess this is what they mean when they talk about dryness... My prayers are like sawdust... Do they mean anything? Where is the inspiration? What is the point? Hello?! Are You even listening God?

You know some days God, I get a little irritated with You. You could make this a little easier, couldn’t You? I mean after all I am trying to do this right. Why don’t you at least tell me like my fitness trainer does, “Good for you for showing up and praying anyway!”

It would be nice to get some feedback. (sigh) Do you hear me God? I keep showing up and saying these prayers. Sometimes it feels like I’m just opening my warm house and letting all the heat out—to be swallowed up in the immense winter freeze outdoors. The ‘heat’ of my prayers seems to dissipate as fast as I generate them. What’s the point? Is there any?

My prayers are finished.

I pick up my phone and read a text from someone I spent a deal of time trying to help yesterday. I prayed for her, listened to her, talked to her, listened and prayed and prayed some more. Today she writes that what was troubling her yesterday is much better. She’s even laughing about what was causing so much pain.

As I read her words I realize I just got my prayer answer and my “atta girl”. They didn’t come the way I expected.

You never answer me the way I think You will God—but You always answer me. Thank You God! Forgive me for my lack of faith.

You are so faithful. I KNOW I can count on you. Why do I doubt? Have patience with me God.

Help me to keep ‘showing up’ every day, every day, and every day for my prayer time—no matter what.

In time, this patient persistence will equal progress; will result in an unswerving faithfulness that never questions You or Your purposes. I ask this in Your Son's Name.

See what the Holy Father says about Prayer.

God bless you dear readers!

Pray for the Dead ... and the Living

The longer you work in or with a church—whether paid or volunteer —the more you come to realize the many sorrows everyone bears. The friend across from me laments a son with a drinking and drug problem, a husband who doesn’t believe in God all the while mourning the loss of the woman who was her mother figure. Another woman never married but cares for her dying brother; she was also there to see to all the needs of both parents in their last hours. A man lost his wife over ten years ago and yet still loves her and misses her as if it were yesterday. An elderly mother has buried three of her five children, a husband, all but two of her eight siblings and outlived most of her friends. Another woman lost her husband when he tried to stop a crime in progress and one of her two sons to an accident; she also lost five babies to still births and always dreamed of having a large family. Her only surviving son lives over in Europe and is approaching 40; she quietly accepts that she will never have grandchildren of her own and lavishes her love on the parish children.

Death. It’s all around us. So is sorrow and grieving. We aren’t supposed to be a grieving society. We are affluent America. We’re supposed to be happy. It’s what American parents reportedly desire for their children and for themselves—happiness. And we want it in this life; we even expect it. Our own Constitution tells us it’s our God-given ‘right’, or the pursuit of it is anyway. I’ve never had much luck with ‘pursuing’ happiness myself, but that’s another story.

Interestingly, those same people who have – and are – suffering so much are often the most joyful people I know. They aren’t always ‘happy’, but they are usually full of His Joy.

Last night I discovered another such soul, a woman I’ve seen and known by sight around my parish for years. And she asked an interesting question, a question I’ve given some thought to myself.

She wanted to know why we as Catholics pray for the dead. Her husband has been dead for years now and their six children apparently are offended by the fact that she still prays for him. Like their mother, they loved their Dad very much and believe he was a very good man. Their reasoning is, if ‘Dad’ was such a good man, isn’t it an insult to his memory to pray for him? Why not have faith in his good life—or if not in him, then in God’s all powerful mercy—that this good man will go straight to Heaven?

Well of course I did think of the Biblical argument that there is ‘no one good but God alone’ but decided not to go down that path. Scriptural debates are all well good in their place. This was a matter of the heart. And anyway, I knew why this woman was still praying for her husband and it had nothing to do with her beliefs about her husband’s soul or God’s mercy and it had everything to do with her undying love for him.

You see if you really love someone, that love doesn’t stop with death. It doesn’t end; it can’t. It goes on just as that person’s life goes on in eternity. So whether or not we may be aware of it, it’s our need to reach out to our loved one which is met through our prayer for that person. Of course this isn’t the Church’s theological reasons for prayers for the dead and those are certainly worth studying too. But in this case, I think my friend will have more success explaining to her children that she prays for her deceased husband because she loves him. She loved him so much and for so long, she couldn’t—can’t—just stop because he’s died. So now praying for him allows her to express those deep feelings.

And what about the prayers?

What about them? Well, they are surely from her heart, so they are good prayers. In fact, they are probably the very best kind of prayers in the entire world knowing the sweetness of this dear woman.

So, if in fact, her husband does need her prayers, so much the better.

And if he doesn’t? Doesn’t this world need prayer?

Is there any doubt?

Are prayers wasted? If you believe in an all-merciful and all-loving God, as I do, I think you know the answer to that question. He has plenty of use for such prayer.

Is there anyone you are grieving? Anyone you miss more than your own life? Pray for them and be consoled. If they need your prayers, you may bring them to the arms of God. If not, you will still bring YOU—and perhaps some of your hurting brothers and sisters here on this earth—there with you.

Pray. Pray. And Pray some more.

challenges to prayer

Last post I wrote about the changes which inevitably occur in our lives sooner or later upsetting our best plans and intentions to begin a life dedicated to prayer. The “changes” I mentioned were all positive—a new job, primary relationship or baby—but what if the change is something we don’t desire? What if we experience the death of a loved one or major illness, the loss of a job, the complete or partial destruction of a home or property? How do such things impact our prayer life? First let me say, that my challenge or change was only a small one, but even so, it had a major impact on my ability to pray.

Last week I started an exercise program. My husband and I joined a fitness facility in the fall when my daughter was leaving for college; I thought it would be a good thing for me to do to keep my spirits up with her leaving, not to mention I need to have some sort of regular exercise program. I even talked to and set up an appointment with a personal trainer. Then reality kicked in; I cancelled the appointment and I stopped going. I didn’t have enough time for myself ... well I didn’t make enough time for myself, but that’s another story. My husband still used the membership so we kept it open. He's an optimist; he was sure I'd go back.

Last week the trainer called me and asked if I wanted to set up another appointment. I did. We got together and it was great. She worked me hard, but also showed me stretches which balanced out the weights. I went back to the gym over the week-end and did the bike and treadmill with my daughter from college who was home visiting. Then on Monday, I went for my second lesson. I can still see that dirty Kleenex on the treadmill. I didn’t touch it but I didn’t need to. I’m sure the user’s germs were all over the machine. Still I had another great workout and I came back to work. The volunteer who was scheduled to help me was there shortly after I returned. I don’t remember taking time to wash my hands after coming back from the gym. But I grabbed my lunch and started eating while we worked. Big mistake!

The next day, Tuesday, around noon I started getting a scratchy throat and chills. By the end of the afternoon there was no doubt in my mind, I had a cold. I haven’t had a cold in at least two years. I thought I’d sleep it off. I stayed home from work and slept away most of Wednesday. What first amazed me was that I could sleep ALL day. I had no appetite. I had to force myself to eat because I knew if I didn’t I’d get a migraine. My head hurt even so but it hurt worse, much worse, every time I coughed and I kept having coughing fits. Water tasted awful but I drank it anyway because I was parched. My dear husband brought me Sunny Delight and it tasted a little better than the water. I ached all over. I was hot; I was cold. I was miserable. But the biggest surprise was, I couldn’t pray. All I could do was say little prayers like The Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” the Divine Mercy, “Jesus, I trust in You!” and the prayer Father Corapi suggests, “Immaculate Heart of Mary, I place all my trust in you.” I tried to muster the energy to say something more organized but I couldn't.

Then Wednesday at 3 in the morning, I woke out of a sound sleep because my lower back had seized up. My husband said it was because I’d slept all day the day before. I think it was also because of my recent workouts. My trainer had me working back muscles I didn’t usually work. I was also still having coughing fits which were making my head want to blow off and sending further spasms of pain down my back.

So at 3 in the morning my dearly beloved husband helped me get down on the floor with a heating pad on my back and a hot water bag on my stomach. Eventually the muscles loosened up enough to where I could get into a fetal position which stretched out the back muscles. I fell asleep like that. The hot water bag leaked but I didn’t even care.

Today, Friday, my back and stomach are still very sore and I’m having coughing fits but on a much less frequent basis. I feel weak but able to move around. My appetite still hasn’t come back but knowing me, it will.

What surprised me most in the whole thing was that I could not pray. I wanted to. I tried to. I thought about it and I did remember that even to call Jesus’ Holy Name is a prayer. I did do that. But I felt so desolate being unable to pray.

Today being Friday I said the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary. As I got to the 4th Mystery and contemplated them mocking Jesus while He carried His Cross, the Cross He bore for us, I felt this overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I’m not sure, but I think it was a teeny tiny glimpse of the great loneliness He felt when He carried the Cross for us. He loves us so much. And yet when He picked up the Cross that day, He looked into His children’s eyes—children whom He loved deeply—and they were mocking Him. How often do we mock one another? Belittle and tease each other? Make light of another person’s pain or experience? When we do, we also join those Roman soldiers mocking Our Savior.

Oh Lord, help me to remember this small insight, that my challenges are everyone’s challenges and I never suffer in isolation. When one part of the Body of Christ suffers, the whole Body suffers. Help my experienced pain make me more compassionate, considerate, patient and kind to my brothers and sisters. Help me also remember that prayer is the very best gift I can give anyone, but especially those who are sick, because often they can’t pray for themselves.

prayer journeys

I’ve often wondered if prayer is such a good thing, why is it so difficult to maintain? Oh sure it’s easy to begin to pray or say you’re to going to develop your prayer life or that you want to deepen your relationship with God through more consistency in prayer, but how many of us find that after a week or two, or maybe even a couple months we hit a wall?

Or maybe something big changes in our life, like a new job, marriage or baby and suddenly the time and routine which we’d formerly devoted to prayer, is now consumed by duties too important to neglect. We’re overwhelmed and it’s easy enough to let the prayer slip into whatever time and space is left over.

As for myself, I justified my recent neglect of private prayer by saying, “But I go to Mass almost every day. Isn’t that good enough?” No! The Mass is the chief or central act of communal worship in the Catholic Church and there is nothing which can replace it. I would not miss any opportunity to go to daily Mass, however, it is not a substitute for my individual prayer time with God. I need both. I need to go away from everyone and spend time alone with the Father—just as Jesus did so often, as we are repeatedly told in the Gospels. When I do this, I find a world within myself where He dwells. I discover that still small voice.

We are all on a spiritual journey. For most of us, I suspect, it isn’t along a superhighway. I know I’m traveling the back roads. Lately, I think I’m not even on a road at all. It feels like God has taken me out of any motorized vehicle and is leading me along an unexplored path through a wooded area. He has me by the hand but I can’t see the way ahead at all. Maybe it is night time or He could have me blindfolded. In any event, the effect is the same; I’m completely dependent on Him to take me where He wants me to go. For someone who is a planner and organizer, this is not a comfortable position to be in. I have to trust Him utterly. I can’t stop praying—not because I’m good or self-disciplined but more out of a sense of desperation.

I don’t know if this means my prayers are less efficacious because they are as necessary as drinking water or breathing, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I do wonder sometimes how many different levels we pray on. When I am very relaxed and praying the rosary, I’ll be contemplating Our Lord’s actions in one of the mysteries and yet I am also aware of being very conscious of my plea to Our Lady, “Pray for us!” Today when that happened, I wondered if one was the spirit and the other the mind or if they were both just simultaneous thoughts of the mind. I suppose that's not really important either ... just my random musings. Of course, that’s not to say, there aren’t other times, when I’m not concentrating on any level, so please don’t think I don’t have my fair share of distractions. I do!

I’m still very much a child of prayer, taking stumbling steps.

Oh Jesus, You have brought us safely thus far. Please continue to watch over us as we continue on our individual and collective journeys, always traveling toward You, the only and ultimate destination.

Child of Prayer

A friend asked me about my New Year’s Resolutions the other day. “What are your plans and dreams for the upcoming year?”

Plans and dreams... Yes, those are both very good things! God has a plan for my life—for every second of every day I have ever lived and will go on living in this world. And He often communicates His desires to His children through their dreams. So what plans and dreams can I have but His?

What I have for the upcoming year are prayers and one prayer in particular: to become a person of prayer.

I desire to live in constant communion with Him.

Every time my mind wanders to a problem, let it be drawn back to Him in trustful surrender.

When my eyes behold evil, let Him show me the Way, the Truth and Life.

If my heart seizes with fear, let His Love encircle and warm me, bringing more love than I’ve ever known before.

May He be my first thought every morning and may I fall asleep with His Name on my lips.

May He love and protect my dear ones as I would if I could—were I but All Knowing, All Loving and All Good.

May He turn all my sins into opportunities for growth in kindness, humility and patience.

Sweet Jesus, with every breath I take in, let me seek You; with every breath out, may I grow closer to You.

You know LORD what a wretch I am—how far I have to go, how much I ask by daring to pray as I do. And yet, You are the God of the Impossible. With and through You, All Things are possible, even my sanctification.

Help this year be a YEAR OF PRAYER for your servant. Help me seek You at all times, in all ways and without tiring.

Make me Your child of prayer.

Daughters of Abraham

'Jesus was teaching in a synagogue on the sabbath. And a woman was there who for eighteen years had been crippled by a spirit; she was bent over, completely incapable of standing erect. When Jesus saw her, he called to her and said, “Woman, you are set free of your infirmity.” He laid his hands on her, and she at once stood up straight and glorified God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant that Jesus had cured on the sabbath, said to the crowd in reply, “There are six days when work should be done. Come on those days to be cured, not on the sabbath day.” The Lord said to him in reply, “Hypocrites! Does not each one of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his ass from the manger and lead it out for watering? This daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has bound for eighteen years now, ought she not to have been set free on the sabbath day from this bondage?” When he said this, all his adversaries were humiliated; and the whole crowd rejoiced at all the splendid deeds done by him.' ~Lk 13:10-17

Today at Mass I heard this Gospel proclaimed. In my mind's eye I saw a group of "daughters of Abraham" who are and have been living for '... years ... crippled ... bent over, completely incapable of standing erect" ... or worse. Their faces are invisible as are their lives. They have no identity, no voice, not even enough vision with which to see the world. The clothing they are forced to wear is so heavy it all but weighs them down.

What would Jesus say to them? “Women, you are set free!”? Would He lay His sacred hands on one of them? Each of them? How would that be received?

What would He say to those who enshroud and enslave them? “Does not each one of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his ass from the manger and lead it out for watering?” In other words, your dumb beasts have it better than your mothers, daughters, and wives!

These daughters of Abraham came from Ishmael. Are they less than the daughters of Isaac? If not, why are they kept in these canvas prisons? I wonder what Jesus would say ... and do ...

Day 17 - Finding God in Narnia

‘When he saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you (falsely) because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven. Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”’ Matthew 5:1-11

For Reverend Mills, Jesus’ teachings on the kingdom make him think of the magical land of Narnia created by C. S. Lewis, especially as it is discovered and explored by Lucy and the other Pevensie children.

Parallel worlds are in fact one of the best ways to understand many of Our Lord’s teachings.

Sometimes daily life offers similar glimpses which we can share.

This past week I agreed to speak to a group of seniors from our parish on the topic of Adoration—the History of Adoration in the Catholic Church in 8 minutes or less was actually my assignment—if you can believe it.

I agreed to do it because I love Adoration, full stop. Trying to imagine doing justice to such an important topic in only 8 minutes—much less anything less—I never took seriously even before I started my research. I mean really? We’re talking two thousand years of Catholic Church history here. It simply can’t be done.

Throughout the week I made sure I spent at least an hour with Jesus every day in our Blessed Sacrament Room talking to Him about what He wanted me to say about Him.

Without a doubt it’s been the best week of my life. I worked ten hour days, fourteen on Wednesday but somehow everything came together. The talk went well. I know I went over my 8 minutes but no one complained. I’ve never been less nervous in front of a group of people in my life. Never. And I would say that usually I prefer dental visits to public speaking.

However, last evening I was thrilled to speak. It was the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart, a feast closely associated with the Holy Eucharist.

Just the day before, I had received a lovely gift from a dear blogging friend, Julie Cameron, two autographed books which she picked up for me. The one book she’d told me about, the second was an extra surprise. I look forward to reading and reviewing both books for her. God bless you Julie!

Seek the Kingdom of God, the Pearl of Great Price. He is worth it!

He is waiting there for you and He is Everything!

Day 12 - Blessed is He Who Comes in the Name of the Lord

‘On the next day, when the great crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, they took palm branches and went out to meet him, and cried out: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, (even) the king of Israel.” Jesus found an ass and sat upon it, as is written: “Fear no more, O daughter Zion; see, your king comes, seated upon an ass's colt.” His disciples did not understand this at first, but when Jesus had been glorified they remembered that these things were written about him and that they had done this for him.’ John 12:12-17

This is one of those beautiful chapters which makes Reverend Mill’s book worth its price even if it’s the only chapter you read. It is a ‘taking apart’ if you will of the familiar Palm Sunday and Passover stories which we think we know but maybe we could stand to examine in a lot more detail, if for no other reason than during Holy Week there is so much going on, it’s hard to take everything in.

Although there’s no way to do justice to this chapter and I’d have to plagiarize half the text in any attempt to do so, I thought I’d keep my ambitions for this post extremely small and just focus on the chapter title, which also happens to be the most important line in that Scripture reading: ‘Blessed is He Who Comes in the Name of the Lord.’

I want to be blessed, don’t you?

Mostly I believe I am blessed. Whenever I see my eighty + year old friend Lloyd and ask him how he is, he answers, “I’m blessed!” I love his Faith. It’s a reminder to me that I’m blessed too.

But what about the rest of the sentence, ‘. . . is he who comes in the name of the Lord’?

When do I come, ‘in the name of the Lord’? Whenever I make the Sign of the Cross*, I say, “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Isn’t that the name of the Blessed Trinity? Isn’t that my God? If I begin every journey with the Sign of the Cross then am I not going – and coming – in the name of the Lord? And by extension am I also not blessed?

“In the Name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Blessed Trinity, help me to remember to begin all my endeavors—however small—in Your Holy Name that I may be blessed in all I say, think and do by Your Grace. Amen.”



* When I make the Sign of the Cross I hold my hand as shown in the picture above. I learned about this Byzantine Catholic or Eastern Christian tradition when I was teaching my own children about the Sign of the Cross many years ago. The position of the fingers gives additional meaning to the physical signing action and I liked that. As a teacher I had learned that the more sensory involvement in any activity the greater the overall learning potential and individual participation. The Byzantine view is explained in more detail here.

Day 9 - The Long and Wending Road

‘Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, “Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.” So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.’ Luke 15:11-13

It’s been a long week. The 30 day retreat I meant to do every day has melted into the reality of the month of May with its tornadoes, end-of-school year awards ceremonies, graduations and other myriad of functions and obligations which must be met. And so it goes—the best laid plans, as the saying goes.

I have started almost a dozen posts on this Scripture story, which is a favorite. Sometimes, like Father Henri Nouwen,¹ I think I could write a book on that parable; it is so rich and meaningful.

Instead I’ll just share that our family is in the middle of its own prodigal child story. No, it isn’t one of my own children, thanks be to God. But I know the young woman's parents and they are at least as loving and well-intentioned as my husband and me, if not more so. I don’t see them as to blame for their daughter’s behavior any more than I believe we can take credit our grown children's successes. As parents, we all did the best we could. Then our children made their choices.

Recently, this daughter wrote her heartbroken mother an e-mail in response to this one:

“Dear R, I would love to hear from you, just to know if you’re all right.
Love, Mom”

R's reply:

“Hey, don't bother replying to this, but yes, my life is fabulous. It's done nothing but go uphill since I decided to ditch anybody that holds me back from getting what I want in life.

Hope you all have a great life, best of luck, etc. No hard feelings. Please feel free to forward this on to anybody I'm related to who hasn't yet got the clue that I turned in my club membership card a while back.

Tootles,
R

P.S. This was written by me, R, and not M². Just thought I'd throw that on there for all the low-expectation morons who missed the part where I stopped being 14 years old.”

This was forwarded on to us because my husband spoke up to this young couple concerning how they treated family members, thus earning himself the honor of becoming one of the ‘morons’ mentioned.

I don’t usually air family laundry. I don’t like to say anything bad about anyone. And yet, she herself suggested her e-mail be forwarded, which I read as a plea for help. I’ve changed the initials and won’t mention how we are related to this young woman. I just ask for your prayers for her parents, grandparents, siblings and for the young couple in question. Only God can change hearts and even He needs our cooperation, but I do believe in the power of prayer to work miracles.

I also believe in the story of the Prodigal Son. I should. I was something of a prodigal daughter myself once. Although I'm grateful I never wrote such a letter to my own mother, I also know I didn't grow up in this age of instant communication and, in my opinion, instant regret. Still I managed to cause her more tears, disappointment, grief and worry than she ever deserved. I traveled that long and wending road, made my way back to my parents, was forgiven and have had many happy years since, thanks be to God. By His Grace, I pray for the same reconcilation and reunion for this young relative.

Thank you for your compassionate understanding and God bless you for your generosity in joining us in prayer.

‘His son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.” But his father ordered his servants, “Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.”’ Luke 15:21-24



¹ Author of The Return Of The Prodigal Son

² Her husband of three years

Day 3 - Peace Be With You

‘On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you." When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. (Jesus) said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained."’ John 20:19-23

Peace.

Don’t we all long for it?

I know I do.

Inner peace, peace-of-mind, a tranquil home, amiable co-workers, neighborly neighbors and a world free from war? It sounds like Heaven on earth. Where can we find it...?

Today I put myself with the apostles in the inner room. I accepted the Peace of Christ when He offered it to me—both times. I invited the Holy Spirit to dwell actively in me today. I asked for a day of spiritual communion.

Mostly I know what it takes to have peace: to let go of outcomes. It’s the old saying, pray as if everything depended on God and work as if everything depended on you and then trust that whatever happens is God’s Will.

He has sent me now to you. The Peace of Christ be with you!

Day 1 - Walking By Faith

‘Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Because of it the ancients were well attested. By faith we understand that the universe was ordered by the word of God, so that what is visible came into being through the invisible.’ Hebrews 11:1-3*

Raised in a good home by two loving parents, sent to Catholic schools for twelve years, married now for twenty-five to a devoted, believing husband, it’s easy for me to take my faith for granted. Not my Faith maybe—I remember often enough that Christians are still martyred even now. What I often fail to appreciate is the simple fact that I do believe, that I am able to believe . . . that God has granted me this grace, especially in this age and time of unbelief.

Today I began the retreat, a 30 day retreat. In his Introduction, Father Mills suggests taking some time to quiet yourself each day before reading the selection from the book, A 30 Day Retreat.

After the hectic pace of today, I was only too happy to oblige. I waited until my family had all left or gotten busy doing things. Then I relaxed in my easy chair with a neck support, closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. It was delicious to be quiet, to come away, to seek time out to be alone with Him.

I begin my retreat in joy and humble gratitude.

I also begin it in prayer. My prayer today is one of thanksgiving for the great gift I’ve been given, this incredible Gift of Faith. Reading further on in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews I learn of all my ancestors in faith—those wise women and brave men who walked this path before, who light the way.

Dear brothers and sisters-in-Christ, continue to pray for me, and all of us who know, love and serve Him. But even more, join us in praying for the millions who do not know God or what it is to believe. All journeys, ne all endeavors begin in faith, without which the next step would not, could not happen.



* All Scripture quotes used in this series are taken from the New American Bible, Catholic Edition, found at the USCCB website.

The Story of a Soul

As I’m writing this the State of Oklahoma could be executing Julius Young.

Tonight I went to my first ever execution vigil. No, it wasn’t down at the state capital. It was in our little Daily Mass Chapel at my parish. The prayer vigil was scheduled to begin at 5:30 which would bring things to a conclusion at 6 p.m. – just around when the execution was supposed to take place.

Everyone took turns reading from Scripture: the story of Cain and Abel, an eye for an eye, how many times must I forgive my brother? The lone candle in the center of the room was extinguished; there was one less light of Christ in the world. We concluded by singing “Amazing Grace”. Although we were a small group, one man had the most incredible voice. His could have been the voice we silenced, I mused.

Afterwards our little group lingered ... as if we didn’t want to leave the comfort of each other’s companionship. We all complimented the man with the incredible voice. Another man spoke up about his experience as the spiritual director for someone on Death Row. He and his wife had literally lived there for the last few months of a man’s life. We listened and learned about that person’s final few minutes on this earth; he was praying.

As I left the chapel I recalled a gift I’d received earlier in the day from my Confirmation saint, St. Thérèse. It’s been awhile since I’ve asked her for a rose but I needed one today and she gave me one, a very special and beautiful rose. I wasn’t expecting two.

Our book club is currently reading her autobiography, The Story of a Soul. In Chapter 5 of Story, Thérèse relates an incident about an impenitent murderer who she prayed for, begging God’s mercy in response to Jesus’ cry from the Cross, “I thirst” for souls. In response, the man gave a sign at the last moment which allowed her to know he had repented his sins. This increased Thérèse’s desire to bring more souls to her Jesus.

I saw her hand in my being at the prayer vigil. Please St. Thérèse, continue to rain your shower of roses down on us. And beg God’s mercy on us all! We are so much in need of it.

Trust in God

The trouble with being a book lady is that you read – or have read – and/or heard so many truisms, good words, wise sayings and profound thoughts from so many wonderful sources at different times and places, in various formats, written and verbal, you just can’t remember the origins of everything. Google and other Internet search engines are a great help in tracking down many things, but they can’t locate everything. Often, some of my favorite quotes and stories linger in my memory and form my conscious decision-making basis and yet I am unable to remember who first promulgated the idea or how to locate the exact words in a saying or place it contextually. It’s very frustrating to say the least. One wants to give credit where credit is due, of course. But also, there is always the sense of only having a fraction of the whole, a poor reproduction or a sloppy translation. (sigh)

One such normative principal for me concerns prayer. In case anyone who followed my earlier series on Mental Prayer is wondering, yes, I am still continuing on with it. In fact, for the first time in my life, my prayer life has taken wings. I have no idea where it is going, nor can I attribute it to any one particular book, method or routine. In fact, it’s almost been since I stopped forcing myself into the rigidity of fixed parameters—beyond that of adherence to a daily prayer commitment—I began to experience contemplative prayer for the first time in my life. My spiritual director confirmed that indeed it is possible to enter into contemplative prayer when one is washing dishes or doing almost any ordinary household task, although not advisable to do so when one is driving or operating dangerous machinery. But I digress.

What I was leading up to in the first paragraph was that I have always understood prayer to be ‘talking to God’. Listening to Him and hearing His answers are other matters entirely. They require much more spiritual maturity. Indeed listening to another human being, even one we think we know and love well, is no easy thing for most of us. Listening requires quieting our own minds, setting aside our own agendas and entering into a space with the other person. And yet even when we do this, we still bring ourselves into that new space. Indeed, we can’t leave our ‘self’ behind—well to certain extent, what would be the point? Presumably the person talking to us must have his/her own desire to talk to us as well. So what do we bring and what do we leave behind? Hopefully, we bring our compassion and our openness to the other person. We bring our desire to learn and be moved by what the other person has to say to us.

Now, extend that scenario to a conversation with God. He is talking to us ... or trying to. How can we or do we listen to Him? Do we attempt to squeeze Him into a few odd minutes here and there? Or do we fully enter into the time we give Him, and after presenting Him with our needs and concerns, petitions, thankfulness, sorrows, sins and ultimately our overwhelming love, adoration and worship, do we then rest in Him as we would in a lover’s arms? Can we settle quietly as His lost lamb ... rescued and now secure?

Somewhere, sometime I heard – or read – that one of the ways God speaks to us is through Holy Scripture. Not that we can use the Bible like an Ann Lander’s answer book: ask God a question and presto, open the pages to reveal God’s hidden truth for you. No, nothing like that. In fact, be very careful of doing anything like that! What I’m talking about is during your prayer time, it is often very helpful to have Holy Scripture or another favorite devotional book handy. Through these means God can and will sometimes provide words or an uncannily appropriate phrase which will touch your heart so deeply, you know without a doubt He has spoken directly to you. This is the half-remembered wisdom I wish I could trace back to its origins. I know I read it somewhere. I know it is true and that it is a reliable means of hearing His Voice.

Last night, I settled down in my bed, pulled the quilts up, propped my Bible on my knees and opened to Psalm 4. I have many, many favorite Psalms but I don’t think I ever appreciated this beautiful little song before or even paid it much attention.

A beautiful motto for the New Year, for the Epiphany and the rest of life: Trust in God. He is manifest!

My favorite parts from Psalm 4:

Answer when I call, my saving God.
In my troubles, you cleared a way;
Show me favor; hear my prayer.
Know that the LORD works wonders for the faithful;
The LORD hears when I call out.
Tremble and do not sin;
Upon your beds ponder in silence.
Offer fitting sacrifice and trust in the LORD.
Many say, "May we see better times!
LORD, show us the light of your face!"
But you have given my heart more Joy
than they have when grain and wine abound.
In peace I shall both lie down and sleep,
For you alone, LORD, make me secure.

Waiting for God

Samuel Beckett wrote a book called Waiting for Godot. It’s one of the many modern ‘classic’s I’ve yet to read. I wonder if I ever will read it. As a general rule I don’t like modern classics because their very modernity seems to be at odds with the true definition of a classic and the former wins out over the latter. I happen to prefer classic classics—classics which have stood the test of time. And yet, since we can see, ‘waiting for God’ in the title of Beckett’s book, I am intrigued by the potential connection.*

I know I am waiting for God. I’ve been waiting for Him for a very long time—not as long as some, but longer than others: fifty-something years if you must know. When I hit fifty I went through an aging crisis, the first and only time in my life getting older ever bothered me. Looking back I see now it was because I’d lost my way. If one has both eyes on God, then being fifteen or fifty is pretty much the same. Both ages can be a moment from His presence or thirty years.

Most of us don’t like waiting. That was the theme of our pastor’s homily last night. And yet he rightly reminded us about all the benefits God can draw from our waiting experiences: the savoring of anticipation, building of character, and growth in patience, to name but a few. So much good can come from waiting on God, doing things according to His Will, in His Time. If we but wait, when the harvest comes in, how wonderful is the feast! Many of us in America just experienced that as we sat down to our groaning tables Thanksgiving Day . . . and got up an hour or so later, groaning ourselves, from having feasted on His Bounty.

That’s fine for us, but what about those who are still waiting? Still hungry?

And of course that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as we all know. There are many, many other things—issues if you will—still unresolved, which seem to be on-hold, waiting: the poor, immigrants, the unborn, the lost, minorities, the lonely, homeless, the elderly, abused children, the dying, victims of crime, our planet, etc. The list goes on. Who or what are they waiting for? Does God hear their cry? Do we?

I don’t have answers, only questions and observations. I work for a church which pours Charity, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars every year, into the surrounding community and yet in recent years has had to install security lights, cameras (which have been repeatedly stolen) and locks everywhere for the protection of those who give so generously.

In our parish, we have those who bring food, clothing and emergency transportation to desperate people at all hours of the day and night, and have done so for years now. These veteran helpers are true Sons of St. Francis of Assisi and their stories are fascinating. In spite of many instances of personal danger, flagrant abuse, and hostility, they remain devoted and untiring ministers to those in need.

Our St. Vincent DePaul hotline receives threatening calls when the disgruntled ‘poor’ feel the service provided isn’t sufficient or prompt enough. “I think Channel XVZ needs to hear your church is doing false advertising! You say you’re there to help us but no one called me back tonight!”

Police vehicles camp in our parish parking lot every evening we have a function. I see them with gratitude but also with more than a trace of sadness, that their presence is necessary.

God we are waiting. We are still waiting. Advent is a time of waiting. We are your children, Lord, and we still await Your Coming.

Lord, come to our assistance. Make haste to help us!



*However, if you read the linked NY Times review of the play, you will learn that Beckett doesn't expect God to ever come to save mankind. Poor man!

Enough Crosses

Tonight my husband and I were discussing our daughters and their boyfriends. As is usually the case when this subject comes up, we marvel over how different things are today—compared with how they were when the two of us were in high school light years ago. Then we review the current relationships situation and finally we move on to possible outcomes. This evening my husband took the doom-and-gloom perspective; usually that’s my role.

Listening to him, it suddenly occurred to me, “What do I want for my daughters?” Not just in these teenage romances, nor even their education objectives or career goals, but what are my dreams for my children for the rest of their lives? Do I even have any? Have I envisioned their future? How do I love and pray for them?

I thought about parents who want or expect their offspring to become doctors, lawyers, priests, mothers, musicians—without taking into account God’s plan for those children. Do I do that? I don’t think so; I hope not.

I started seeing this ‘letting go and letting God’ philosophy from a much broader and bigger vantage point. So what do I want for the girls?

I don’t know.

Some days I don’t know how to work out my own life, what I should do next, if I need to change this or get rid of that—how can I possibly be qualified for this huge responsibility of parental authority figure? In one sense I’m not qualified and never will be. But in another, I’m qualified by virtue of the fact that these children have been given to me by God.

After some thought I told my husband, “It all comes down to this: I want them to go to Heaven. I don’t know how they’re going to get there. It may be that like their silly old mom, they have to go down some dead-end streets, over a few waterfalls, even a cliff or two, take plenty of detours and always always always carry a cross ... or two.” So in the end, the ‘how’ doesn’t matter. It’s the getting there that matters.

I’m a mom who loves her children. Very much. But even so, I don’t love my children anymore than the Lady of Sorrows. Without Her Son’s Cross none of us could ever reach Heaven.

My oldest daughter collects crosses and crucifixes of all sorts. She has quite a collection as you can see. She started her collection at her First Communion when she received several crosses as gifts. Since then, we’ve continued to give her unusual crosses as gifts for other special occasions. It has made me more aware of the Cross as sacred symbol.

On this the Feast of the Exaltation of Holy Cross, I pray my children, husband and I have enough crosses to get us to Heaven.