Jesus, The Good Shepherd

For the sake of those who have heard me talk about this before, please bear with me for the sake of those new to the blog who have not.  The image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is one of my favorite.  Nearly 30 years ago, I took a trip to England to visit a friend.  One day, we visited the Lake District and did some hiking and climbing.  As we were about to return to the car at Dungeon Ghyll, we heard a dog frantically barking at an old shepherd, a crotchety looking  fellow in tweed knickers and cap with a walking stick in hand.  The dog wouldn't quit, so the shepherd had no choice but to follow him up the side of a hill.  When he returned, he had a newborn lamb around his neck.  The dog had done its job well.

Sheep aren't very bright.  Certainly, one would expect them to be smarter than us, but there is a difference:  the sheep will listen to the shepherd's voice.  How many times do we hear our Shepherd's voice and choose not to listen?  The amazing thing about our Shepherd is that it doesn't matter how badly we muck things up.  When we are ready to return, He will be there to lead us out of the darkness.  He can meet us where we are and He will not be defiled, no matter the conditions in which we are ensconced. Knowing how faithful He is to us should not lead us to think we should do as we please and take advantage of His generosity and love for us.  It should compel us to never want to wound His Sacred Heart again.

If you are someone who is struggling with addiction or mental health issues, this is especially for you.  You carry a cross unlike any other.  Some of you feel like you will never truly be part of the church because of some flaw or deficiency that you think you have.  Some of you will be lifted up, only to fall down again.  No matter how many times that happens, Christ will be there to lead you.   Some of you lean more heavily on Him than others.  He does not care.  He is there for you to lean on for as long as you need, so long as you understand that your salvation can come only from Him.  Maybe you think that because some people have an aversion to you that Christ does also.  Not true.  A shepherd knows that despite his best efforts, the sheep are going to get dirty.  Still, he goes looking for them when they are lost and carries them closely when they need him to, like the old shepherd at Dungeon Ghyll.

He wants to carry, you too.  The question is: are you ready to let Him?

Communion of Saints

Somehow, I managed to delete and lose the entire post I just wrote and published.  Here's my second attempt.

Sometime back in December, a friend called and asked me to come to a meeting to discuss the possibility of bringing Treasures of the Church to Philadelphia.  I said yes, not knowing what to expect.  On the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, we began our evening in the dimly lit Adoration chapel where pink placards containing our names and prayer intentions lined the steps along with a votive candle in a glass bowl.  It was a beautiful sight and a beautiful gesture on the part of my friend.  After Benediction and Reposition, we were invited to take our placards and our candles into the friary to lay them at the feet of Our Lady.  With such a beautiful start, how could this not be a success?

Last night, this labor of love prayerfully came to fruition.  For reasons known only to God, it was decided that I would be one of only two people permitted to unpack the relics and lay them out on 19 tables. I barely had time to come home from work, shower and change and get myself to the friary by 5pm.  I was so worried about dropping a reliquary, it never occurred to me that I, along with the lovely woman helping me, would be responsible for keeping them in order.   Naturally, I messed up  the first two tables and we had to start all over again, but I was fortunate to have noticed my mistake early.  Father Carlos was very patient and kind about it.  He has an amazing system of keeping the relics organized to the point where he can blindly put his hand into the trunk and know which saint he withdrew based on the position of the relics.  Accompanying each reliquary is a plaque that gives a brief synopsis of each relic and the saint to whom it belonged.

Matthew and Rebecca were also enlisted to help with this endeavor but they were coming a little later.  I got a text message from Rebecca warning me that Matthew was threatening to show up in shorts, but, little mother hen that she is, she got him in line.  While we helped Father set up, the rest of the volunteers were reviewing their instructions and responsibilities in the friary.  The plan was to allow most of us to hear Father's talk in the upper church with the understanding that we would leave before its  conclusion and return to guarding the relics, one volunteer per table.

Some people picked their table based on the saint whose relics it displayed.  I was late picking a table and took one of the three remaining.  My company last evening was St. Francis of Assisi, St. Francis Xavier, St. Dominic and .... St. John Vianney.  More than once I implored the Cure d'Ars to intercede on behalf my of my pastor, who is slowly recovering from his injuries.  Having St. Francis of Assisi near would prove to be providential, but I'll get to that a bit later.

Before we headed up to hear Father's talk, we were given an opportunity to venerate the relics in relative peace and quiet.  I joined up with Rebecca since Matthew was assigned to keep an eye on the elevator and prevent people from entering too early.  At first, Rebecca was afraid to pick up any of the reliquaries, so I took the one containing St. Therese and touched it to her forehead for her.  Then we parted ways for a short bit because I was in Carmelite Heaven.  Not only was the Little Flower's relic present, but her parents' as well, not to mention St. Teresa of Jesus, St. John of the Cross, and St. Edith Stein.  Edith Stein's relic was second-class.  Given that the Nazis burned her in an oven, no first-class relic exists.

As we were heading upstairs for Father's talk, Rebecca mentioned that she had a pins and needles sensation that would not go away on her forehead.  I didn't think much of it at first, but when she mentioned it again, I asked her if it was bothering her, worrying that maybe a dizzy spell was in the works.  She told me it started after I touched the relic to her head and while it didn't hurt, it was a very strange sensation that she could still feel.  At this point, the talk had not yet begun.  I needed to know if at any point Rebecca had overheard that sometimes, a person will feel a warm or even burning sensation when they venerate a relic.  No such discussion had yet taken place because Father had yet to talk about it. The discussion in the friary among the volunteers was solely about their responsibilities.   I'm sure you can imagine how choked up I became.

I loved how Father began his talk.  He reminded the faithful that though he would be giving a lecture, we were still in God's house and were to conduct ourselves accordingly.  He spoke of the Four Handcuffs, those things that prevent us from living in God's good graces.

1. Failure to faithfully go to Sunday Mass

2. Failure to go to confession

3. Failure to make a thorough confession

4. Failure to forgive.

Please visit Father's website for more details from the lecture.

Before the talk ended, I left to take my place at my table. It was fascinating to watch people, and mine was one of the busiest tables.  I watched a gentleman take St. Francis of Assisi and touch his relic to a large growth protruding from his head.  I watched a woman take a photo of a relative in a hospital bed and touch it to each relic on the table.  One young woman in a veil moved methodically, on her knees, to each relic, praying and touching each one to her Rosary.

In my haste to get to the friary on time, I forgot my Rosary.  The only sacramental I had was my Brown Scapular, so I touched it to the relic containing what tradition holds is a piece of the Virgin Mary's veil.  I must admit to a bit of envy watching everyone else touch their Rosaries to their favorite saints.

Finally, the evening drew to a close and Father beckoned the few remaining faithful to take their leave. Only a handful of volunteers remained so while I took down the relics, the others covered the plaques in their plastic bags and folded the blue linens that had covered the tables.  It was just before midnight by the time we got home.  On the dining room table was a note from my oldest, who had stopped by to see her dogs.  She warned us that a mouse was stuck in the sink, unable to climb out.

With great trepidation, I took a peek and sure enough, a tiny field mouse sat quivering.  We attempted to get him out, but being the girl that I am, I shrieked every time he moved.  Rebecca's idea was to put him outside, if only we could catch him. I was afraid we'd wind up pulling his tail off, he was so tiny.  Finally on his own, he leaped out, except instead of running away, he decided to hang out.  He sat on the counter, looking at Rebecca, and every time she'd get close, he'd scamper away a few feet, and then come back and do it again. She tried to scoop him up in a plastic container so we could put him outside, but apparently he was enjoying this little game of cat and mouse.  

"If we kill him, Rebecca, St. Francis will never forgive us."

Finally, the little critter got bored and took off, disappearing behind the stove.  Time to go to bed.  Rebecca told me that during Father's talk, he explained that sometimes people will feel a hot or warm sensation when they venerate a relic.  She said it meant that saint was calling you to be their friend.  She told me that when she venerated St. Mary Magdalene's relic, she got the same buzzing sensation, except it lasted only briefly.  I told her I had a slightly different take than Father Carlos.  Both Magdalene and Therese were entirely devoted to Christ.  I asked Becca to consider that perhaps they were asking her to join them in that devotion.

I have no idea what any of it meant, but I do know I will treasure what happened in my heart much longer than I will remember what car I drove or how many karats my engagement ring is or how much money I could get for my house.  Many times, we travel along the path of faith in a total fog, blindly groping and hoping we're headed in the right direction, and God sends us a gift, just to reassure us that if we put our trust entirely in Him, we will one day be able to do more than venerate the relic of saints.  We will join their company and thank them face to face for their heroic example and complete devotion to God.

What's Going on With Blogger?

I could not sign on at all yesterday.  What's more, I approved a bunch of comments, and I see that none of them are here, nor can I retrieve them.  If one of them was yours, my apologies.  I don't know if the problem was on my end or Blogger's end.  I'll be back later on this evening to tell you about Treasures of the Church last night.  Amazing.

The Bread of Life

One of my last stops before returning to the Catholic church was at a historic protestant church where the founders of our country once worshiped.  Even though I referred to myself as a "recovering Catholic" and essentially thumbed my nose at the place from which I came, there was a lot that simply struck me as wrong and no amount of pretending not to see could ease my conscience.

One particular Sunday, a former Catholic priest gave the homily.  The rector of the church announced at the end of the service that this former Jesuit had sought and was granted admittance into this protestant church as a priest.  Not long after, one of the assistant priests referred to this same ex-Jesuit as his husband from the pulpit.  I happened to really like this assistant priest because he was a gentle person and he gave stirring homilies.  He had a beautiful singing voice and was approachable and kind.  But he was destroying himself just the same and  preaching from the pulpit that his lifestyle was somehow normal and acceptable meant he was leading others down that dark alley with him.

St. Peter wrote of Christ that "no deceit was found in His mouth."  Jesus was a straight-shooter in today's parlance.  He didn't parse words and get caught up in minutiae. He told it like it was.  When He spoke with the Samaritan woman at the well, He told her that she was right not to refer to having a husband in the singular because in fact she had had many husbands.  He didn't tell her it was ok to have had so many husbands.  He didn't tell the woman caught in adultery "if it feels good, keep doing it"  He forgave her and bade her to sin no more.

Some of our brothers and sisters are headed down that dark, dirty alley where they are lead to believe that the depravity in which they are engaged is normal, acceptable and moral.  Sometimes, I get angry because I'm trying to raise children in a world where they get conflicting messages.  They hear things that try to lead them to believe that if they reject the depravity of homosexual behavior that they are being hateful and judgmental.  The world would like them to believe that charity means anything goes, so long as no one is being murdered (that is, of course, unless the lives of the unborn are being snuffed out, in which case the world thinks murder is perfectly acceptable.)

One of the Center City churches I occasionally visit is most easily reached by traveling through a very seedy part of town where the street signs all have rainbows on them.  It saddens me to see so many young women who have butchered themselves in an attempt to look like men, walking hand in hand with other young women.  I think of the terrible destruction of God's creation when I see young men who have completely emasculated themselves, conversing with their arms around each other's waists.  I finger my little wooden Rosary and pray that they might be lead to conversion before it's too late.

Jesus told us that He is the Bread of Life.  He spoke of marriage between a man and a woman.  He ate with sinners, but  with the admonition to go and sin no more.  To pretend that it's ok for two people of the same sex to marry one another in the name of charity and love is anything but.

Photos From Palm Sunday

I refer you to Philadelphia Roamin Catholic for some wonderful photos of Palm Sunday at my parish.  The administrator of the blog is also the lead server for the Latin Mass crew and he is a most unassuming gentleman to whom many of us are so grateful for all he does.

The liturgy began at St. Mary's, the other church in our parish, and then we processed to St. Paul's, where Mass in the Extraordinary Form was offered.

There are  some good glimpses of St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi Church, where the TLM will be celebrated on Sunday May 29th at Noon.

Please keep our pastor in your prayers.

The Eucharist: A Compass for Our Lives

It is the greatest of fortunes that I am personally acquainted with so many priests who revere Christ in the Eucharist.  The celebrant of the Mass I attended this morning asked us to make the Eucharist the compass that guides our every move in life.  He talked about St. Maximillian Kolbe and how he spent hours preparing to celebrate the Eucharist and then more in thanksgiving for this profound privilege.

I would say that if we make the Eucharist the focal point of our lives, we cannot go wrong.  We may not have the opportunity to spend all day in prayer, as St. M. Kolbe did, but this does not excuse us from our obligation.  In our everyday, sometimes mundane lives, we are prevailed upon to consider Christ, completely humbled in the guise of bread, and make our every word, thought and action fitting for His Divine Presence among us.

When someone tries to beat us at a stop sign, it is the time to stop and say: "Lord, I will not respond in kind for your sake."

When a co-worker tries to make themselves look good at our expense, that is the time to stop and say: "Lord, I will endure this for You and the great love that you have for me in the Blessed Sacrament."

When a loved one inflicts such pain to our hearts that we just want to crumple on the floor in a heap, that is the time to stop and say: "Lord, I gladly accept this pain in reparation to You for all those who have rejected Your Love."

When another seems to be preferred over us, that is the time to stop and say: "Lord, thank you for letting me share an iota of  the pain that You above all know so well, of being placed on the back burner."

When we are disappointed because the priest who appears out of the sacristy to celebrate Mass is not the priest of our choice, that is the time to stop and say: "Lord, let me attend to the Holy Sacrifice of this Mass with the same love and attention with which Your Most Holy Mother stood at the foot of Your cross."

God Bless you.

Reminder: Treasures of the Church at St. Rita's on Thursday Evening May 12th

The relics have arrived at St. Rita's and after a talk by Father Carlos Martin, they will be on display for veneration.  This will take place on Thursday evening at 7pm starting with the talk in the upper church, followed by veneration of the relics in the lower shrine.  St. Rita's is located on South Broad Street between Ellsworth and Federal.  It is accessible by public transportation and there is parking available in a lot adjacent to the church on Ellsworth Street.

My dear friend who orchestrated this undertaking has a card on top of one of the trunks that reads: "Joyce's Prayer Intentions".  Those intentions are all the causes you have asked me to pray for, as well as a few of my own.  

I especially ask the saints for their help in finding you good health, employment, and peace of mind.  And I ask them also for their intercession for a very holy priest who is temporarily sidelined by injury, hopefully not for long.

A Glimpse of Spring in my Garden

Our garden used to be much bigger, but it was too difficult for me to keep up with, especially after I hurt my back, so it's not quite what it used to be when we first moved in.  May is probably my favorite month for this garden.  Eden, the rose bush, will explode in full bloom by Memorial Day.  The lilac bush and the lilies of the valley both erupt at the same time so that if the back door is just slightly ajar, the house fills with their paradisaical  scent.  The lilac bush is still sporting the lights I hung on it for Christmas. It might be pretty to light them now at night.  The little bird house was a gift I picked up in Kutztown last year.  We don't have a place high enough to hang it so that the birds can actually make use of it, but it doesn't matter.  It's so pretty, I just like to look at it anyway.

Hard to keep Gigi, my little chihuahua pug mix, from eating these

A neighbor planted this dwarf lilac in our yard a year before we moved in.

 

The first Eden bud, starting to bloom.  The bush is a climber but it tore down the trellis, so we just prune it oftenT 

A birdless bird house

Decisions

I have always had an affinity for the Carmelites.  I don't think I have shared this before, but I have vivid memories from my early childhood of speaking to a Carmelite nun who was standing on the steps of a convent. It was January and the kindly next-door neighbor had offered to take me for a walk to get me out of my mother's hair for awhile.  Sister wore a mantle.  I asked her if the convent was still decorated for Christmas and she told me that there were no decorations and there didn't need to be because Christ lived in the heart of the Sisters every day of the year.  Some years later I asked my mother about this and she said she couldn't imagine where this took place because there was no Carmelite convent or monastery within walking distance of our house.  I have since concluded that this was probably a dream that I could not distinguish from reality, but I do like the fact that it has stayed with me.

When I was in first grade, I was given a children's book about saints.  You probably already know which saint drew me closest.  The little book had an illustration of Carmelite nuns looking up to Heaven as a shower of roses fell on them.    Someone gave me a "holy card" that had a reverse or x-ray-type image of St. Therese on one side in black and white and a little prayer to her on the other.  The idea was that you would stare at the image for 30 seconds or so and then look at the wall, and it would seem as though St. Therese was appearing to you.  Child's play.  It occupied me for hours.

When, in my early twenties,  I secretly harbored the notion of joining a contemplative order, it was the Poor Clares, not the Carmelites, that I thought about.  It wasn't until years later, when I became a Catholic revert, that I again began to feel the gravitational pull of the Carmelites.  It seems that during the last five years, the subject of joining the secular Carmelites won't go away. A member of our local chapter has asked me twice to consider.  I keep finding invitations to join left for me in strategic places.    One of the reasons I have hesitated is because I have never been able to faithfully pray Morning and Evening prayer, though I've had no such issue with Compline.  Over Lent, I made a sincere effort to pray both and while I was never 100%, I managed with more regularity than I had previously.  The little voice in my head keeps saying: "OK, so what's your obstacle?"

I have a job where the expectation is that I will eat, sleep and live what I do for a living, but that is not my make up.  I do not wish to sound self-congratulatory, but the fact is that I happen to be very good at what I do, even though it does not define me.  I have no intention of letting my occupation take over my life.  I am not passionate about nursing administration.  I'm passionate about Christ and I'm passionate about saving souls for Him.  But the job I have now demands so much of my time and energy.  Would it be fair to the Carmelites or to Christ to start down this road if this is not the right time?  Would it be fair to my family to give up a job that brings us some financial security in such a shaky economy?  Does it reveal an appalling lack of trust in Christ to even worry about my job when there are others out there that would allow me to devote myself to the Carmelite rule?

This is something I am going to seriously pray  about and try to discern over the coming months.  Perhaps some of you who have made the commitment to a tertiary order can add your thoughts.  What drew you to a third order?  What obstacles did you envision?  What did you do to overcome those obstacles?  How long did you spend discerning?  How difficult is it for you to be faithful to your rule?

I would be enormously grateful if you would share.



 

Rambling Thoughts for Sunday

About five years ago, I attended the funeral of  a great-aunt I had not seen in years.  She was 91 at the time of her death and lived the last decade or so in seclusion with her adult sons, two of whom had never married.  After the funeral, my mother filled me in on a little family secret.  The oldest son, whose elevator never seemed to reach the top floor, had been born to my great-aunt when she was only 15 years old.  She had been raped by a man whose children she helped care for.  She concealed the pregnancy, then gave birth, alone, in a bathroom, to a baby who was in breech position.  Although he wasn't anything like the children who would come later when she married, you would never know it.  She doted on him the same as she did the others.  What an incredibly strong person she was!  I thought this was quite a different pro-life story and fitting to be shared on Mother's Day.

I amuse myself sometimes by thinking of how hard it is to categorize myself.  Carol McKinley has an interesting little test at her blog, The Tenth Crusade.  Give it a whirl and see where you come out.  I haven't done so yet but I know I will not be in the staunch conservative camp.  I may create my own little test, just for fun, to see where everyone fits in.

Sometimes I read blogs that really get me po'd.  So you know what? I stopped reading them.  Some things in life are baffling.  There are bloggers who have the nerve to ask for money for their various functions.  I've been suckered into donating to a few of them.  I won't be doing that anymore.  In the end, a handout is a handout, regardless of where it comes from.  So no, I don't think it's more admirable to collect from your readers on a regular basis than it is to hold your hand out to Uncle Sam. Either way, you're not pulling your own weight when you should and could be.   There, I said it and I feel so much better!

I got my sister a beautiful bouquet of roses for Mother's Day.  She doesn't have any kids.  She tried for years but it didn't work out and in the end, she concluded it was best that it didn't.  She wound up divorced from her first husband shortly after she threw in the towel on fertility treatments.  I got her the flowers because she has three canine kids.  These dogs, labs, all three of them, live better than my own three biologicals.  They go on vacations.  They have coordinated Baker sheets for inclement weather.  They go to Doggie Daycare and have sleepovers at Grandmom's house.  My mother even makes the oldest one blueberry pancakes for breakfast.  My relationship with my sister is not the best, but I hate the idea of my mother and I getting accolades from our progeny today while my sister is excluded.  I have a cute little Mother's Day card with a gaggle of labs on it.  I think she'll be pleasantly surprised.  Maybe she'll even put her cell phone down for five minutes to talk to me.

Speaking of Mother's Day, it was all I could stand at work on Friday as the other nurse managers discussed their plans for today.  They exchanged ideas on dinner reservations.  We have never gone out to dinner on Mother's Day.  Want to know why?  Because my FATHER doesn't like going out to dinner on Mother's Day.  How's that for irony?  Kind of like giving your wife a vacuum cleaner as a present today, right?  My mother is going to be canonized for living with this man for over 50 years.  Whatever else in life she has done, God will give her a pass because she has not only tolerated him, she has catered to him and accorded him respect worthy of a king.  It doesn't bother me.  Honestly, I am not going to win any Mother of the Year awards and I have never been one to demand or expect anything special today.  Anything extra that comes my way is more than I could ask for.

My husband offered to make breakfast for me, but he only knows two methods of cooking - raw, and burnt. I suggested he go to McDonald's and get some 'hotcakes" to go.  He did.  Rebecca decided we should go as a family to the TLM today.  Another topper for the cake.  The boys have promised they will dress decently and behave appropriately.  If they don't, I'll offer it up.

Happy Mother's Day not only to all the moms but to the children who made them moms as well.

Prayer Requests for Priests

Would you please remember a priest friend in your prayers?  He is under the weather right now and while he is  on the mend, he is not exactly feeling 100%, yet still carrying out his duties. Please also say a prayer of thanksgiving to God that it's not worse, because it could be.

Would you also remember to pray for a priest who seems intent on committing heresy?  Today in his sermon he advocated for married men and for women to be permitted to be ordained.  He urged those who would be offended to "get out your pencils so you can write your letters to the bishop."  His consecration of the Host was so brief, I had barely finished saying "My Lord and my God" than he was raising the chalice. I had considered walking out during his homily, but I followed the lead of the two fully-habited orthodox nuns who were in the pew with me.  Lord have mercy.

Bringing Up Mother

I am fortunate to still have my mother with me and in good health.  There was a time when I considered writing a book about my mother's family that would be only somewhat fictional, meaning the only thing I would change would be the names.  My mother comes from an interesting family, to say the least, and I believe some of the events that happened early in her life shaped the person that she is now.

My grandfather was "right off the boat", as they say.  With his light hair and blue eyes, no one thought twice when he changed his Italian name to an Anglo one and tried to pass himself off as an American.  An engineer, he married my grandmother when she was still in her teens and they lived a comfortable middle-class life on a little acreage in Southwest Philadelphia.  They had four daughters and one son together, the boy coming at the end of the line.  The children lived on a little suburban oasis with a playground and chickens and rabbits and other pets. They were well-dressed, well-fed and well-schooled.

One day, as he was waiting for the train to take him home from his job, my grandfather suffered a massive heart attack.  He was dead before his body hit the platform.  The youngest was barely out of infancy.  There was no Social Security or welfare at the time.  My grandmother took a job sewing draperies in a factory and the children were parceled out to various relatives.  My mother, second youngest, was not even five when she was sent to live with an aunt and uncle she had never met and their two teenaged boys.  My mother lived a privileged life with her relatives, but all she wanted was to come home to her mother.  Some years later, she did.  The family lived in near poverty and if it weren't for the generosity of the nuns, they would have gone without a holiday dinner at Christmas and Thanksgiving.  My mother often told me of having only one or two pairs of socks and underwear and having to rinse them out every night in order to have something clean for the next day.

I think that it is because of the trauma of being separated from her family at such an early age that my mother tends to cling emotionally to me and my children, to the point where it can become suffocating.   I was complaining about this the other day to my husband when I had to curtail my Divine Mercy Sunday activities in order to be at Sunday dinner on time.  God is all well and good, but let Him interfere with my mother's plans for Sunday dinner, and watch out.

"Why can't you go the Divine Mercy Mass over here? Why do you have to go all the way to that Monastery? I don't like that drive.  Be careful.  Don't be late."

Talk about a conflicting message!

"You're not going to have them that much longer," my husband said ruefully, and I knew it's because he was thinking about his own parents.  He lost his mother and father within six months of each other.

My mother has an odd set of beliefs.  She faithfully attends Mass each week, daily when possible, and is very active in her parish.  Growing up, I remember that she was always part of the group of ladies that cleaned the church each week and every Monday evening she was at Sodality.  But she has a very generous interpretation of the Catechism of the Catholic church.

When I was contemplating my return to the church, I went to a memorial Mass with her for a relative.  When it came time to go to Communion she told me I could go because the priest had already absolved me of my sins.  "When did that take place?"

"At the beginning of Mass, when he said "may almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins and bring you to everlasting light."

Fortunately, I did not believe her.

My mother and I were estranged during my adolescent years.  It was her choice, not mine.  She went through some difficulties at the time with early menopause and while I have forgiven her for what happened, it was not easy to forget.  I never dredge up the past as to do so would only serve to inflict hurt.  But I often wonder would have happened had she not wandered away from the church and from my father.  My parents were actually separated for three or four years and eventually got back together.  During that time, my faithful Catholic mother stopped going to Sunday Mass and Monday Sodality.  When she lost her way, I lost mine, too.  I don't blame her for that, but it has served to reinforce how important my example is for my children to remain faithful.

Now that my mom is getting up there in years, she can be excused for some of her goofiness.   I invited her to go to the TLM one Sunday with my daughter and me.  She got to my house just five minutes before Mass was to start.  I was exasperated with her when I found out the reason she was late was because she decided to pick up some tea biscuits for my father on the way over.

"You worry too much" she told me when I complained we were going to be late.  "That Mass is and hour and a half long.  You could miss five minutes and not miss anything."

Really?

Luckily, the celebrant was running late from the previous Mass and we got there just in time.

"See" she said, louder than what I found acceptable.  I shushed her.  Yes, I shushed my own mother in church.

The other day, when I got hopelessly lost on my way to a conference, I called my mother. Yes, GoogleMap can be wrong.  I learned that first-hand.   I knew my mother had been to the place where the conference was being held numerous times and could direct me there.  She could tell how upset I was because I was late and would have to suffer the humiliation of entering a room full of big-wigs an hour past the time I should have been there.  It was pouring rain.

"Stay where you are, I'll come get you and lead you there."  She came out in her pajamas with a jacket over them.  For a minute I forgot that I am 50 years old and my mother is 72.  She lead me to the conference center and then rolled down the window to give me a pep talk.

"Don't worry about being late.  Just walk in there like you own the place.  To hell with those people if they don't like it. They probably won't even notice."

She was right. No one did notice.  My boss was even late.

First Saturday Meditation From St. Therese: The Coronation of the BVM

"We know very well that the Blessed Virgin Mary is a Queen of Heaven and Earth, but she is more Mother than Queen; and we should not say, on account of her prerogatives, that she surpasses all the saints in glory just as the sun at its rising makes the stars disappear from sight.  My God!  How strange that would be!  A mother who makes her children's glory vanish! I myself think just the contrary.  I believe she'll increase the splendor of the elect very much.

The Blessed Virgin Mary wasn't as fortunate as we are, since she didn't have a Blessed Virgin to love.  And this is one more sweetness for us and one less sweetness for her." - Last Conversations pp 161-162.

                                                                                           

First Friday Devotions to the Sacred Heart

I took my son to get his suit for the prom (after he protested that we could wait until next weekend to do it, leaving less than a week before he needed it) and then I took a walk.  On a whim, I decided to go past a church in Center City where I had heard First Friday Devotions were held in the evening.  The lower church was so dark, I thought at first it was closed, but then I saw one of the doors propped open, so I decided to go in.  It was a beautiful sight.  The church is not known for its aesthetics, but the scene was mesmerizing.   The Monstrance was surrounded by two candelabras, one on either side, with seven candles each.  Directly in front of the Sacred Host were two pillar candles.  A priest was hearing confessions as the small group that had gathered prayed the Litany to the Sacred Heart.  The service concluded with Benediction.


"Behold this Heart, which loves men so much, but they do not want to love Me in return."

An Athlete With His Priorities Straight

If you're a baseball fan, you've probably heard reference to the Phillies starting pitching staff as the Four Aces.  One of those aces manages to fly under the radar because he is so unassuming.  Until recently, he was undefeated as a pitcher at Citizens Bank Park, including the years when he played for the Houston Astros.  Last week, Roy Oswalt missed a start with the Phils because his hometown, where his three young children were staying with their grandparents, was ravaged by tornadoes.  The children, ages 6 and 3 years,  and 6 months, had to be routed from their beds in the middle of the night and led out in the rain and wind to a storm shelter.  Oswalt rightfully felt that his place with his family.  Thank God, no one was injured.

Upon his return to Philadelphia, Oswalt spoke to the press and explained that on his list of priorities, baseball comes in behind his wife and children.  He could walk away from the game today without looking back.  Baseball is something he's good and at he enjoys it but it's not the be-all, end-all of his life.  Baseball does not define him.

In this day and age when football is played on Christmas Day and baseball on the afternoon of Good Friday, it is refreshing to encounter and athlete who has his priorities straight and has the courage to say "My little girls come before a meaningless game."

I have a different job than Roy Oswalt does, but what I do for a living does not define me either. I work more than 40 hours a week and it's never enough to get everything done.  I don't much care. I wish I could work part-time but the economy has not been kind to my husband's business, so, tag! I'm it!.    In a few weeks, an important meeting with all the big-wigs in our health system will take place late on a Friday afternoon, the same day on which my son will be going to his first prom.  I'm going to have to pull an Oswalt and leave early.  Inevitably, someone will look around the room and ask where I am.   I'll be where I belong.

Who Cares?

One of the radio personalities in Philadelphia who often appears on cable news shows is enthralled with everything having to do with bin Laden's take down.  He had an ex-CIA, ex-Navy Seal on today who wrote a book that bin Laden himself cited as the definitive source on what he thought and believed. You know what?  Who cares?

I don't care what the evil mastermind was wearing when he was shot, where he got shot, what he was doing, who he was doing it with, etc. What's next?  Interviewing the devil himself and remarking about what a suave fellow he must be to have so many minions?  What's the difference?

And isn't it incongruous to keep referring to his "wives"?  No one has more than one wife in the sight of God.

I'd be very wary of wasting more than a fleeting thought on an anti-Christ.

From TLW Archives

NOTE

I have one of those killer headaches and really can't manage to write a coherent thought.  Here is a repost of something published last year.   I just discovered (because I live on another planet sometimes) that EWTN has this devotion every morning at 7:30am preceding morning Mass.

Today, I will post the Chaplet to the Archangel Michael. In a later post, I will provide the history of this Chaplet that St. Michael himself gave to a visionary centuries ago. You do not need to have the chaplet beads but it does make it easier. I confess to having a bit of a mental block in being able to memorize the prayers, which would make praying it anywhere more convenient. As of now, I have a small booklet from Tan Books on the Archangel Michael that contains the chaplet and I use that to pray from without the beads. In these perilous and sinful times, we should look to the Archangels and especially St. Michael for their protection and help.

Begin by making the sign of the Cross and reciting the following:

O God, Come to my assistance

O Lord, Make haste to help me

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, etc

Pray each of the following salutations, followed by one Our Father and three Hail Mary's

First Saluation:

At the intercession of St. Micheal and the Heavenly Choir of the Seraphim, may it please God to grant us the grace to receive into our hearts the fire of his perfect charity. Amen (1 Our Father, 3 Hail Mary's)

Second Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of the Cherubim, may God grant us the grace to abandon the ways of sin and follow the path of Christian perfection. Amen (1 Our Father, 3 Hail Mary's)

Third Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of the Thrones, may it please God to infuse into our hearts a true and earnest spirit of humility. Amen (as above)

Fourth Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of the Dominations, may God grant us the grace to control our senses and to correct our disordered passions. Amen

Fifth Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of the Powers, may God vouchsafe to keep our souls from the wiles and temptations of the devil. Amen

Sixth Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the choir of Admirable Celestial Virtues, may Our Lord keep us from falling and deliver us from evil. Amen

Seventh Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of the Principalities, may it please God to fill our hearts with the spirit of true and hearty obedience. Amen

Eighth Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of the Archangels, may it please God to grant us the gift of perserverance in the faith and in all good works that we may thereby be enabled to attain unto the glory of Paradise. Amen

Ninth Salutation:

At the intercession of St. Michael and the Heavenly Choir of Holy Angels, may God vouchsafe to grant that they may protect us during life and after death, may lead us into the everlasting glory of Heaven. Amen.

Next, say one Our Father each for Sts. Michael, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael and your guardian angel. Then say the prayers that follow:

St. Michael, glorious prince, chief and champion of the Heavenly Host, guardian of the souls of men, conquerer of the rebel angels, steward of the Palace of God, under Jesus Christ, our worthy leader endowed with superhuman excellence and virtue: Free us from every ill who with full confidence have recourse to thee and enable us to make progress every day in the faithful service of our God. Amen

Pray for us, Most Blessed St. Michael, Prince of the Church of Jesus Christ, that we may be made worthy of His promises.

Eternal God, Who in Thine Own marvelous goodness and pity, didst for the common salvation of men choose the Glorious Archangel Michael to be Prince of Your Church, make us worthy, we pray Thee, to be delivered by his beneficient protection from all our enemies, that at the hour of our death, none of them may approach to harm us. Rather, grant that by the same Archangel Michael, we may be introduced into the presence of Thy Most High and Divine Majesty, through the merits of the same Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen

Those who recite this chaplet daily are promised St. Michael's protection as well as that an angel from each of the Nine Choirs will accompany the faithful person to the Holy Table every time they receive Holy Communion.

Traditional Latin Mass at St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi on Sunday May 29th

On Sunday May 29th, the TLM normally celebrated at St. Paul's at Noon will instead by celebrated at St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi, the other church in the parish of St. Paul.  May 29 is the feast day of this great Carmelite saint.  If you've never been to the TLM before, consider coming that Sunday.  The church is less than four blocks away from St. Paul's and looks like it was transplanted from an Italian village to the side streets of South Philadelphia.  It was the first Italian national parish in the country and is now a worship site within the parish of St. Paul's.

In God's Hands

We live less than two miles from Citizens' Bank Park, where the former world-champion Phillies play baseball.  Their game against the Mets was televised last night.  Cliff Lee was on the mound.  The game was a compelling reason for me to delay going to bed, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I knew that with our bedroom window open, I'd be able to tell from the distant roar of the crowd what was going on. Or so I thought.

I couldn't hear exactly what the crowd was chanting, but I could tell that they were really revved up and I assumed the Phillies, who were trailing when I went to bed, had worked their usual ninth-inning magic.  Imagine my surprise when I found out  that not only had they lost in extra innings, but that the cheering was for the news that Osama bin Laden is dead.

I leave the judgment to God.  I have no remorse or feelings of sympathy for someone who personified evil.  I reserve my prayers for the souls whose very lives he stole and for the brave Navy Seals, who had to kill women used as human shields by the murderous men they lived with.  By now, Bin Laden knows first-hand how great is our God.

Trust in Unfathomable Mercy

A few days ago, I talked about how the world might view what Christ did for us and what we do for Him as folly.  Now we take what some cannot grasp even one step further.  This Son of God, Who underwent a horrible death for our sins and then rose triumphantly, offers even the most hardened sinners a pass, if you will.  If it sounds outrageous that by going to confession and Holy Communion on one given Sunday we could earn pardon of all temporal punishment,  we have not trusted in His mercy.  Sometimes we can't see past our own noses.  We try to assign to God the same flaws and weaknesses that make us human.

God can't possibly forgive me for this.


I've been away too long.


I feel like a hypocrite


How can one day of being faithful save me from what I deserve?


If I can get this indulgence today, why do I need to bother going to Mass again?


We forget so quickly those words spoken by the priest over the fire at the Easter Vigil.

Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever!


We can never grasp with our heads what is best understood by our hearts.  We think of all the times in our lives when we have been disappointed by someone who said they loved us.  Maybe it's a spouse who was unfaithful.  Maybe it was a child battling an addiction.  Perhaps we are the person someone trusted in, and we shattered their faith in us by doing something sinful and human.  I remember once being assigned a difficult task at the ad agency where I worked right out of college.  I had no idea how I was going to accomplish this seemingly impossible task, but I recall very clearly saying "Just trust me."

In response, my boss said to me: " It really worries me when someone says that."  He had been let down in the past by people who did not mean what they said, and being a little on the paranoid side to begin with did not help.  How many times in our own lives have been desolate over a situation when someone we love takes us by the shoulders, urges us to look at them and says to us: "Trust me.  This will be ok.  We will fix this.  This will get better. You will be all right."

We all have those moments.  We may not always have that go-to person, but we will always have Christ.  The Feast of Divine Mercy is about two seemingly-simple words: trust and mercy.  To comprehend them as God does, however, is not so simple.  The only way we can begin to understand them is by abandoning ourselves completely to Him.  He is more than willing to take this on for us, to the point where He condescends to beg us to turn to Him in all of our needs and to be reassured that there is no sin greater than the depths of His mercy.

How do we return the favor?  By seeking reconciliation with those in our lives that we can't forgive or maybe that can't forgive us.  By not giving in to despair.  By putting everything in His hands and trusting that what comes out of any given situation, though we can not see it at the time, is what God wills for us and what will be for our spiritual well-being.

You may not believe that someone's private revelation is worthy of a feast day.  But you cannot dismiss the unfathomable mercy of Jesus Christ and His desire that we put all our trust in Him.