Our home has needed a little TLC for some time, but it seems like we always put other things before it. Sometimes, our finances got in the way, and that’s probably the only excusable reason. More often than not, we just thought it was too hot to work, or too cold to work. Or a video game or a novel was more compelling than the couple of hours it would take to paint, or weed, or make a trip to the local dump.

It’s a shame, really, because there was no need to let things go the way we did. Now, as I sit back and admire my handy work, and look forward to adding something other than off-white to our color palatte, I am saddened that I wasted so much time when I could have been enjoying a more welcoming home.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is a little like my experience with painting this weekend. Sometimes we put off going because we perceive it to be difficult or awkward. Maybe the times are inconvenient and we are seduced by the allure of an early movie or an evening out. Whatever our reasons for not going, they are there and keeping us away from the healing grace of this sacrament.

My own experience with the Sacrament of Reconciliation usually ends in a similar way: why did I wait so long?

Unlike slapping on some paint to cover stains or dullness, Reconcilaition offers something greater than just cleansing our souls (ok, that’s pretty good, don’t you think?), it helps us to explore the root of our sins. A proper examination of conscience and true contriteness and penance helps us grow.

We grow closer to God through our suffering experience, and we grow as human beings when we can recognize our weaknesses and work to overcome them. This powerful sacrament is more than just a recitation of our sins, it is the real expiation of our sins, our short-comings, our tendency to be frail and prone to error.

It is more than just a quick fix that leaves us shiny and new on the outside; it heals us from the inside out through God’s loving grace.

Don’t wait until things get really ugly. Do yourself a favor and go to confession. I hear it’s good for the soul.

Rosary Army has been a presence at the Eucharistic Congress for many years. It started with a bucket of rosaries and has grown into quite an operation requiring the coordination of volunteers. The thing is, no matter how complicated it appears to be, somehow, literally through the grace of God, the day runs smoothly and we successfully execute our mission: to distribute rosaries to everyone who wants one.

It’s difficult to anticipate what our needs will be, so every year brings surprises. This year’s big surprise, Jennifer and Greg delivering one of the talks during the general track, was a wonderful one. It’s hard to imagine that the hosts of the popular The Catholics Next Door, the founders of Rosary Army, should have gotten their humble beginnings shoving rosaries into the hands of startled but appreciative folks, but there you have it!

The theme of their talk, to encourage each of us to find that passion for Christ — that passion for evangelization – and to have the courage to pursue it is a powerful one. We can’t be afraid to act. We can’t be afraid to step up and live our lives in accordance with the Truth. Sometimes it’s hard, and usually it’s scary, but always it’s fruitful.

It is easy to accept God’s will in our lives when things are going well, but when we face challenges in our lives, whether they be related to poor health, financial struggles, difficulties in our relationships, or any number of disappointments that hurt us, embracing Mary’s example of submission seems practically impossible.

Secular society treats the word “submit” with great disdain. We are taught through the media, the “talking heads”, and celebrities who really have no qualifications as role models that submission is a sign of weakness, and worse, the result of oppression. For Christians, however, submission to God’s will is an action.

It is a choice that we make.

When Mary gave her consent, “Let it be done to me as you say” (Lk 1:38), she became a part of God’s plan for salvation. She turned her body and will over to God and through her, He delivered to all mankind His son, Jesus. It was Mary’s faith and obedience in God’s plan that serves as such a wonderful and inspirational example for us today.

What better way to start the new year than by recalling that we can all grow closer to Jesus through his Mother. I encourage you to embrace Mary’s example and put your faith and obedience in God.

May God bless all of you in 2009.

I admire the folks who can really pull it off. I think I get about halfway there but I admit to getting sucked into celebrating Christmas a couple of weeks into Advent. The Advent wreath and hymns at Mass are a reminder that it isn’t Christmas just yet, but then I succumb to my favorite holiday shows and … well … I’m weak. I admit it.

It starts with one of my favorite cartoons, A Charlie Brown Christmas. I so loved it as a child although probably for very diffierent reasons than I love it now. When Linus reads from the Gospel of Luke and tells the nativity story I am overwhelmed. So beautiful!

The cartoon is usually aired right in the middle of the self-induced hysteria that generally substitutes for Advent. To my amazement, the show sends a powerful and timely message about the misplaced values and commercialization of what mainstream society calls the Christmas Season. As Catholics, though, we celebrate the Christmas season starting with Christmas and ending eight days later. Unfortunately, it seems like everybody else moves on to New Year’s when we start to celebrate the real Christmas season.

Still, I can reconcile the mixed messages. A Charlie Brown Christmas rejects commercialization and focuses on the real meaning of Christmas. Before the T-shirt kiosks at the malls were making money on their “Put Christ back in Christmas” shirts, the Peanuts Gang sang it loud and clear. I don’t mind the reminder, even if it comes a little early. In fact, I need to hear the message early to prioritize and remember that I am not preparing for Christmas turkey and gift exchanges and too much eggnog.

Advent is instead a time to prepare our hearts to “receive” Jesus, the Light of the world, the Word made Flesh. We can enjoy the anticipation without giving ourselves over to the hysteria. Instead of dreading that there are only 17 shopping days til x-mas, we should be be rejoicing that Christ-mas  is only 17 days away!

Merry Chri — um, have a great Advent and don’t forget that it’s a good time to seek the healing power of the sacrament of reconciliation. We need to prepare our hearts as well as our homes.  Excuse me now while I get back to the TV and cue The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

Actually, the traditions are as varied and diverse as the people who celebrate this day. While the traditional fare includes turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie, a visit to our dinner table will reveal black beans and rice, yuca, and flan for dessert. We’ll make the almost traditional turkey, but marinate it in mojo — no gravy!

The menu doesn’t matter — the point is to get together and enjoy each other’s company. And of course, to give thanks.

That’s something that is easy to do when things are going well, but a deeper and often bitter challenge when they are not going well. For every measure of joy in the world there’s the equivalent in human suffering and mourning.

Why then, offer thanksgiving?

The Catechism of the Catholic Church reveals that

2648 Every joy and suffering, every event and need can become the matter for thanksgiving which, sharing in that of Christ, should fill one’s whole life: “Give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess 5:18).

Indeed, there are many reasons to give thanks. My grandmother passed away this year after a very long battle with Alzheimer’s, but I am so thankful for her presence in my life and the joy she brought to my children. Our dinner table will have an empty place setting, as our oldest is away galavanting in New York City and marching in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade with the band, but we are excited and enjoying her adventures vicariously as she checks in and gives us updates. We miss our extended family in Miami, and will have a quiet and stress-free meal with our two younger children who are recovering from surgeries — one will hobble up to the table after knee surgery and the other will attempt to eat anything since she’s still feeling uncomfortable after surgery to correct her deviated septum. We are so very thankful for their doctors and the successful surgeries, and we might even confess that thanksgiving dinner in comfy pajamas, while not a tradition we’d like to repeat, is going to be cozy and fun. We’ve had plenty of health challenges, but God continues to bless us. We have good jobs in a scary economy. We have a loving home. We have wonderful family and friends. All these things and more give glory to God.

We don’t really need a holiday to give thanksgiving, but it’s a good reminder that living as Christians  ”means living in thanksgiving: if God is the only One, everything we are and have comes from him” (CCC 224).

What are you thankful for?

It appears that this election will be closely monitored, from within our borders because of so much partisanship, but also from without, as I can never recall an election that commanded so much interest from abroad.

It is the almost rabid partisanship that has me concerned. While I fervently want my candidate to win, I don’t think the country will collapse overnight if he loses. The odds are generally in my favor that one of them is going to be elected [smile].

 I also think that the threats from both sides to move to another country is neither practical, nor good for America. This is a great country. It will still be a great country on Wednesday morning. As her citizens, we have to remember that once the election is over, we need to put away the blue flags and the red flags and go back to the business of waving the one flag that unites us, you know, that pretty banner with the red, white, and blue.

Tonight, this vigil to one of the most historic elections in our nation’s history, I urge you to pray. Pray for guidance.  Pray for enlightenment. Pray for patience. Pray for protection. Pray for love. Pray for justice. Pray for forgiveness, and brotherhood, and peace.

Pray. We seem to have forgotten, in some circles, that prayer can heal us.

Vote responsibly.

God bless America!

Mom alternately laughed and cried as she read those vignettes. There is no doubt in my mind that my own writing was influenced by my mother’s appreciation for Bombeck’s ability to capture the joys and [hidden] pains of motherhood and family life. I have the sneaking suspicion that the Nobel Prize in Literature would not be as well-received as my having a small column in the local paper.

This realization delights me to no end, yet it speaks to a great truth about how subtly we are influenced by our parents and family. My mother didn’t have 300 channels of satellite radio, 1000 channels of on-demand TV, or endless hours on the internet; she had books to keep her company. Some of the moms I knew had hobbies like knitting, sewing, and crafts. Mine, it seemed, read. It’s no surprise that I grew up to be like my mother.

It also makes the not-so-subtle point that children capture far more from observation than commands. What a responsibility! What an opportunity!

The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches us that our first catechists, our “parents, grandparents and other members of the family” should receive a “special gratitude” because it is from them that we “have received the gift of faith, the grace of Baptism, and life in the Church”(2220). What a beautiful gift it is to grow up in a Christian household.

As we go through our lives, raising our children, interacting with extended family and friends, keep in mind that little ones are watching and learning to emulate our behavior, for nothing expresses clearer what we truly believe than our actions.

That crash and burn technique serves me well; I am in the business of reading and writing. There’s always a deadline, always a new book that I must read. Of course, getting to review books for The Catholic Company is a bonus for me!

Last month when my review copy of Mother Teresa’s Secret Fire: The Encounter that Changed Her Life, and How it Can Transform Your Own  by Joseph Langford arrived, I was going to treat it like any other book — something that was going to give me some fleeting pleasure. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t have a cavalier attitude about books. I love books. My ravenous consumption of books is probably rooted in my fundamental desire to read everything, or at least, everything that I can get my hands on.

When I sat down to read Mother Teresa’s Secret Fire something unexpectedly different happened to me. I slowed down.I savored the book. I turned to it, not in a frenzy to see what Langford says next, but to absorb and understand the message.

Joseph Langford examines Mother Teresa’s encounter with Christ through prayer, and it vicariously becomes ours. The lessons are profoundly deep and yet so simple that they can be distilled from the advice she so freely gives:

If you want to pray better, you need to pray more.

That simple command to pray more encouraged me to seek a new level of understanding within my own prayer life. The book captivated me with its life-transforming messages thanks largely to Langford’s expert handling of so esoteric a subject as prayer. After all, those of us who see prayer as a mysterious activity for the super holy have failed miserably to understand its nature. I attribute my own past failure to a fundamental inability to lay bare my soul in a vulnerable position.

Can you imagine anyone more vulnerable than Mother Teresa? And yet, she dedicated herself to seeking and helping those who were indeed more vulnerable. Her secret is exposed here for our benefit, so that we, too, can be transformed, and be transformational for others.

Langford deftly breaks down the essential attributes of prayer as expressed by Mother Teresa — to “pray from the heart” and  to hold “inner silence.” That last one, especially, competes with every distraction continuously pulling at us. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

This beautiful labor of love, not just Mother Teresa’s magnificent legacy but also Joseph Langford’s insight into her secret fire, is a must-read for all of us at any stage of our faith journey.

[Her] message is something infinitely rich, yet infinitely simple. She has shown us that, as the burning desert yearns for water, God yearns for us. And the God who thirsts for us is not hard to find, since he dwells in our soul as his temple, and comes in the palpable disguise of our suffering neighbor, making it easy for us to find the unsearchable God, and to come face-to-face with Christ.

Get it. Read it. Embrace the transformational power of her secret fire.

As I entered the church last Sunday I happened to glance curiously at a couple surrounded by some county sheriff’s deputies and some Spanish-speaking parishioners, and in passing saw some luggage piled in a corner. While my head registered that the scene was under control, my heart nudged me a little—something was just not right.

After mass, I approached one of the church employees, my dear friend, to see if there was anything I could do to help. Sadly, there was little to be done on a Sunday evening. The county emergency services only operate during business hours. [mental note: remember to schedule my emergencies during banking hours….]

It turns out that the unfortunate couple had been evicted earlier that day, and in the abuses and indignities that are often piled upon society’s marginalized, they were not paid what they were owed.

In one moment they became homeless and penniless.

I confess that when dealing with the homeless and poor I often do so with a suppressed air of pity or perhaps worse, an underlying level of scorn. It’s not something I’m proud of—in fact, the origin of those feelings are most likely ingrained in my constant sinful failing: pride. Certainly I would never find myself in their situation, except that, quite possibly I could.

There were no signs of mental illness or the debilitating welfare condition that breaks spirit and initiative. They didn’t look violent or drunken or drug-addled, or any of the other ugly stereotypes of the homeless. No. This was a couple that seemed to be hard-working and guilty of nothing more than an ill-timed risk that failed miserably. As a result, they found themselves beaten and abandoned on the side of the road.

I was shocked to note how their situation paralleled the parable of the Good Samaritan. This couple was desperately in need of temporary aid—some immediate intervention to help them connect with the friends and family that would come to their aid. They were less than 24 hours away from help if they could just make it through the night.

Their countrymen walked past them. The holy man also kept walking, presumably caught up in his other duties. Finally, the officials abandoned them. They were saved, ironically, by a man who just a generation ago was “the enemy.”

Rather than an indictment against all the people who could have, but chose not to help, I want to focus on the ones who did take action. In a world focused on the grand act, the opportunity to give generously to a cause célèbre, the real sacrifice comes from the unnoticed generosity of the anonymous folks who act when no one is looking. It’s easy to do the right thing when there are people around to take note. It’s quite another to do the right (but difficult) thing when no one would know otherwise.

Except, of course, that God is watching. What will He see today?

Enter the social utilities where I play a bit throughout the day. Many of you come to the forums here at Rosary Army. Others participate in any number of opportunities to twitter, plurk, pownce, rejaw and otherwise microblog your activities throughout the day. These utilities are wonderful ways for us to connect to a community of faithful Catholics that share our lives in all the mundane and dramatic turns that make us human.

One of my plurky friends, Edgar the Mexican, announces the Angelus daily. Okay, it’s not a ringing bell, but it is a call to prayer nonetheless. Do churches outside of Rome even ring the bells anymore? Anyway, in his own gentle and not at all in-your-face kind of way, he simply announces the Angelus. If the intent to pray is a prayer in and of itself, then I have been praying along with Edagr every time he posts.

It’s not enough though. I mean, I’m not looking for a short cut. When my friend Linda asked me recently if I ever pray the Angelus, well, it was clearly more than a coincidence. One thing is running across a prayer while visiting Catholic websites, where, frankly, it’s kind of expected, it’s quite another to be out for lunch with a friend and have the topic come up.

So, I got the message. Loud and clear. Maybe this is what was I was yearning for. Maybe, within the prayer is the one thing that I need to change. Maybe, just maybe, I’m getting better at listening to God.

Here’s the part that moves me, that makes me pause and really submit:

Behold the handmaid of the Lord.
Be it done unto me according to thy word.

Join me, Edgar, and the Church universal in this call to prayer. See ya at noon!

While attending a birthday party last weekend,  I had the pleasure of sharing my love of chocolate with another reveler. I use that word oh-so-cleverly because not only were we enjoying the party, but she happened to “reveal” something to me in passing that actually became the topic of a brief conversation.

Have you ever given much thought to chocolate? I mean, beyond whether or not you want nuts in it? Me neither! Sure, I have the occasional urge to get dark chocolate instead of milk chocolate. For the connoisseurs there’s no contest—dark chocolate rules, but for the rest of us, milk chocolate has the right amount of creamy sweet goodness that puts a smile on our faces.

Hershey’s was brilliant when they named their little bite-sized treat a Kiss.
Anyway, while my friend and I were enjoying the chocolate icing on the cake, she made a comment that really made me think. She noted that chocolate is very bitter and only becomes a delectable treat after milk and sugar have been added. Wow! Of course. I knew that.

Because I’m kind of nerdy, I looked up the process for refining the chocolate. The historical roots can be found in the Mayan or Aztec people, who distilled the cacao beans and made a frothy bitter drink, and after Columbus presented the beans to Ferdinand and Isabella, the Spaniards began drinking it, after adding milk and sugar to counter its bitter taste. It wasn’t until the 1800’s, after the Italians and the Dutch tweaked it that we saw the emergence of chocolate resembling what it is today.

So chocolate, and the Olympics, got me thinking about how we really need each other in order to grow and maximize our potential.  Stay with me here, it’s not such a stretch. We need the fraternity and interaction of community, and the [ideally] friendly competition that keeps us growing and changing to improve our lives, and improve society.

I was not at all surprised to find that the Catechism of the Catholic Church has this to say, generally, about the forces that led to the development of chocolate candy, and the benefit of the Olympics Games:

Certain societies, such as the family and the state, correspond more directly to the nature of man; they are necessary to him. To promote the participation of the greatest number in the life of a society, the creation of voluntary associations and institutions must be encouraged “on both national and international levels, which relate to economic and social goals, to cultural and recreational activities, to sport, to various professions, and to political affairs.” This “socialization” also expresses the natural tendency for human beings to associate with one another for the sake of attaining objectives that exceed individual capacities. It develops the qualities of the person, especially the sense of initiative and responsibility, and helps guarantee his rights (CCC 1882).

See? I told you I’d make the connection. It turns out that as usual, the Church contains the wisdom we need to maximize God’s plan for us.

As St. Ignatius of Loyola said, “All for the glory of God.”

In spite of the gripe-y nature of my observation, though, the truth is that the corner generally offers some kind of local flavor for entertainment. For example, last year, there was a company that would go to homes and buy junk. For cash! I might have invited them over to relieve me of the mess in the basement, but their advertising was suspect. Ok, it was down right weird. Inexplicably, they placed their “junk movers” on each corner of the intersection dressed in royal blue Mario Brothers type work clothes — only, all of it, including an Afro-wig, was royal blue. They looked like that Blue Men troupe. Weird!

Of course, during election times there is a motley crew of folks waving and asking the commuters to honk for their candidates, and there is the random hawker, selling anything from home-made meat pies to kitschy stuff bought from some mail order import company. You get the idea — the corner is always full of surprises.

Last week my senses were assaulted by a woman dressed somewhat like a prairie settler from a hundred years ago, but she was in all white, including some Jed Clampett-looking boots in white, and she was verbally assaulting the drivers as they zoomed past. I figured that I had hit paydirt that morning — here was my entertainment, and I was lamenting that the light would change too quickly and I wouldn’t hear what she was yelling at us.

I got up pretty close and lowered the window, and right about when I heard “The Lord our God will smite you!” I caught sight of the bible that she gripped in her hand. She was waving it around and wildly gesticulating, and I thought to myself, oh brother, it’s just one of those bible-thumping weirdos.

And then I had a revelation. Yup, right there on the corner of Busy and Worldly, I had an epiphany. I wondered, what are YOU doing to live YOUR faith, huh? Yeah, I got caught in my own little moment of hypocrisy and judgment.

Let’s face it, the woman was a little “out there” and she didn’t really look like I’d want to give her any credibility at all, but at the same time, she was doing something about her faith. She was predicating in a very loud and in-your-face way, and was probably not going to convert a single person on that corner, but you know, God has His ways, and while I rejected her personal message, God’s voice rang loud and true: What are you doing to live your faith?

Busted, as my kids would say. What, indeed, am I doing? Am I afraid to live my faith in public? Do I need to stand on a street corner to do it? Certainly not, but I can make some very clear and conscious choices about what I say and do, how I act, what I wear. Living my convictions in the home — with my friends — at work could very well be much harder than just giving lip-service on a street corner.

Then again, it doesn’t have to be.

BE NOT AFRAID!

And yet, there is so much available to guide our exploration of our faith. Our beloved Pope John Paul II, a prolific writer, has written a body of work that addresses our needs, not just as Christians, but as human beings made in the likeness of God, and provides profound insight into God’s love for us and how we can love God in return.

Although these documents exist for us to study and nurture our faith, many Catholics, including myself, are intimidated by them, fearing that they may be too academic, perhaps too esoteric for the common reader. The Theology of the Body was one of those documents that seemed inaccessible to me.

Enter Christopher West, Catholic author and speaker well-known for his on-going work on John Paul II’s Theology of the Body. West brings his understanding of marriage and sexuality to people thirsty for knowledge and understanding about a topic that is often relegated to whispers if it is spoken about at all.

His newest book, Heaven’s Song, available in September 2008, continues the exploration of John Paul II’s theology of the body with new material never released by the Pope. In these new talks, West reveals the Pope’s study of the Song of Songs and the marriage of Sarah and Tobias.

I have to admit that I was a little intimidated when I received an advance copy of his book for review. The Song of Songs was just not something I was drawn to, and Sarah – didn’t all her husbands die on their wedding night? It seemed so obscure.

Yet West’s easy, almost conversational writing style engaged me immediately. He approaches the subject of human sexuality so clearly, so humbly that he is able to introduce delicate topics in a non-threatening, comprehensive way that both educates and celebrates our God-given sexuality.

I couldn’t put it down and had to make a concerted effort to slow down and absorb the material. Each chapter not only ends with some thought-provoking questions, but a prayer to engage the reader in living “heaven’s song,” the purest form of prayer.

The beauty of this book is in its ability to convey John Paul II’s message in terms I can understand. Perhaps the greatest compliment I can give Christopher West is that it has inspired me to examine my own life; personally; within my marriage; within my family; and within the plan that God has for me.

I yearn to sing with all my heart, heaven’s song.

At first I thought that it would be terribly boring to attend a professional conference by myself. The resort is exquisite and full of many wonderful amenities that are out of reach for me because I am engaged in workshop after workshop. I could be bitter because I am doing what I am supposed to do, rather than submitting to the temptation of a spa.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I have found that my personal isolation has pushed me a bit in the direction of actively engaging in dialog with my peers, and taking workshops that both enrich and enlighten me. I hope I leave a better educator.

I’ve also benefitted from a great deal of down-time. My colleagues have gone down the street to visit The Mouse, but I have stayed at the resort, enjoying the solitude and embracing some quiet contemplation and prayer.

Too many times I look longingly at the spiritual retreat offerings near home and think I ought to make the time to go, and then allow myself to be distracted by other demands.

If nothing else, this professional retreat has driven home the point that I must make time for a real, comprehensive spiritual retreat. I need the retreat–not to get away from the material world, but to work hard on my spiritual development.

I need to be present with other like-minded persons (read: Catholic); I need to share my faith journey and hear others share their stories and experiences; I need to learn more about my faith: how to live it, understand it, embrace it.

I need the spirtual refreshment that only The Real Presence can give.

Sometimes, though, having such a detailed plan is a recipe for disaster. When I try to adhere to a plan because I want to finish it, instead of listening to my studnts’ needs and adapting myself to the necessary changes, I end up inadvertently hurting my students and frustrating myself.

On the other hand, if I am paying close attention to the clues in the classroom–things like blank looks on my students’ faces, repeated questions, and roadblock after roadblock, I can adjust what I’m doing. I can stop and regroup and determine what I really need to do to reach my students.

When that happens it is usually an opportunity to do some real teaching since it deals directly with my students’ needs at the moment. The plans may go out the window, but the adjustments become a teachable moment that is often much richer than my original plan.

I’ve witnessed this in my spiritual life, too. We’ve all heard the joke, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” It’s good for a laugh because we all understand that there is truth in the statement. We can plan all we want, but if it does not serve God’s greater plan for us, it will not be a fruitful endeavor.

We need to practice listening to God. It would be great to get a memo confirming that we’re doing the right thing, wouldn’t it? Of course, God doesn’t speak to us in such an overt way. That’s why we need to practice this communication.

Prayer, clearly, is an avenue for that communication. Adoration, especially, places us in a quiet and contemplative environment in the presence of of Our Lord. The frequent reception of the Sacrament of Reconciliation heals us and keeps the lines of communication open and clear. Finally, the frequent reception of Holy Communion feeds us and provides the spiritual sustenance that we need in order to continue to grow in our relationship with God.

When we approach our relationship with God in an active way, including Him in our plans, letting Him guide us gently in the subtle ways we can discern His presence when we are open to His love, then we might discover that plan “B” was the right plan all along.

As a result, I’m sitting in the dark writing this musing by candle light and using paper and pencil while my laptop sits next to me – the battery dead. There’s something romantic about the scene – the golden glow of the flame – the shadows that move in the flickering light – the sound of the pencil scratching across the paper. Somehow it makes my writing seem more real. Silly, I suppose, to find comfort in tradition.

I found that the same comfort in Mass yesterday. I was running a bit late and entered the church as the priest reached the altar during the processional. I stood in the back for a few moments as I scouted the pews for my husband and son so I could join them. Just then, my unconscious mind registered a series of unusual things – a dark gathering area -open doors – no organist – the priest wasn’t wearing his chasuble – just his alb and stole. I think that’s when I realized the lights weren’t on.

The late afternoon sun was weak, and getting weaker, but there was enough light streaming in through the windows to enable us to see. So what if we didn’t have electricity? So what if the A/C wasn’t on and there were no microphones? We didn’t need them – there was no hum from the A/C to compete with the voices, only the occasional sound of an old lady fanning herself.

The Mass was still the Mass, our a cappella voices sounding sweeter than ever. When the lectors proclaimed the Word, it really was a proclamation for all to hear. And then, at the very moment when we were singing the Alleluia before the Gospel and the deacon raised the Book of the Gospels, the power returned and the lights came on.

Coincidence? Probably.

But still a very powerful symbol. The deacon got it, as he had to contain his smile when he lowered the book to the ambo. I’d like to think the rest of the congregation got it, too.

My husband calls those storms that come out of nowhere, rain hard and heavy, and then disappear, gullywashers. I claim cultural ignorance when he uses regionalisms and colloquialisms, so an explanation usually follows, and it is often more colorful than the expression itself.

Anyway, we had just such a gullywasher last evening.  A violent  storm popped up, flashed around some dramatic thunder and lightning, dumped a lot of rain, and disappeared just as suddenly.

Our area needed the rain. We’ve been in a drought for some time, so every little bit helps, even if it’s just a dump and run like last night. I noted the refreshing and invigorating effects of the storm this morning when I went outside with the dog. Everything was washed clean and looked brighter and healthier. The whole neighborhood somehow looked greener, and the sounds of life were everywhere. Is there anything that expresses the wonder of the natural world more clearly than the sounds of birds chirping in the early morning? I was in such a good mood that I didn’t even scream when I walked through a brand new spider web on the narrow path to our backyard.

I reflected on how much we’ve needed that water, and the irony of our brothers and sisters in the midwest struggling with the destructive consequences of too much water. We can’t control the forces of nature, but we can seek balance in our own lives.

Balance is certainly something that I struggle with every day. It seems to me that my modus operandi is to focus focus focus on whatever the hot point is, and let other things fall away. Those things will eventually surface as hot points later, and the cycle continues.

Even as I write about it, I realize that I have no plan to achieve that balance. Maybe the first step is admitting the problem. Perhaps.  At any rate, the realization struck me with the same intensity as the gullywasher. It’s time for me to nurture my physical well-being  as much as my spiritual well-being, my work and my play, and my relationships as well as myself.

Too much of a good thing is just as bad as not having enough.  Sometimes I’m just a little slow to catch on.

We go to execute our mission: Make them. Pray them. Give them away. Boy do we make them. Knot after knot after knot. We have blisters. We have burns. We trample and trip each other pulling on twine that drags behind us as we move among the new recruits. At the end of the day we drag ourselves away, mangled and tired, but uplifted in the Spirit.

Some people think we are exhausted. Maybe a little. But the real truth is that we leave in a state of exhilaration. There’s something special about about teaching folks how to make a rosary. The joy on their faces when they make their first knots is cause for celebration. The little moment of teasing and joking when the second knot is a mess, or too far away, or plain wrong and ugly is a teachable moment.

Knotting a rosay is very much like living our faith. It takes practice to get things right. It takes patience, and persistance.  It also takes a little bit of humility. Often, even the experts, make mistakes and have to untie a knot and try again. Luckily, the twine is very forgiving. Like our God.

We gave away hundreds of knotted rosaries.  In fact, we gave away a couple of thousand rosaries, and when those ran out, we made chaplets with practice twine. We had new recruits who came back with finished rosaries and added them to the giveaway pile.

I know many of those folks took the rosary as a decorative token of the day. A souvenir. Perhaps it’s hanging from the rear view window in their cars, never to be prayed. We don’t know what the impact of that rosary will be, but we do know about the connections we made.

Our Church, the Body of Christ, is made up of people in different places on the faith journey. Many recognized the rosary as a “Catholic thing” but others heard, perhaps for the first time, how to pray it, what it means, the necessity for having a prayer life, and hopefully, they were transformed a little bit by what we shared with them between the joking and the ecouragement.

Just like each knot, uniquely made, comprises a finished rosary, so are each of us, uniquely made and interacting in our own special way, a part of the Church—a part of the Body of Christ.

I know that sounds a little weird, or as I would write on a student’s essay, that is vague and ambiguous.

I don’t mean to be vague or ambiguous. It’s just an easy way to communicate: we get it.
I thought about this as I was driving to work. I’ll date myself here, but I listen to a classic rock station, and one of my favorite songs by the Rolling Stones was playing, You Can’t Always Get What You Want. You’ll have to look up the lyrics yourself, as the overall message isn’t the stuff of catechesis, but the chorus to the song sends a strong message to me every time I hear the song:

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try, sometimes you get what you need.

I can’t get the tune out of my head, and as I move through my day it pops in and out of my concsciousness. Rather than fight it, I just let it play in my head until something else replaces it. As it happens, here it is lunch time and I’m still singing it, so I thought I’d share it with you.

Whenever I hear this song it reminds me that as a faithful Catholic I get it. So what is this “it” that we get? I think it is a sense of security. I am secure in my faith. I am secure in the Truth. I am secure that there is in fact a God, and He is watching over me.

That security, let’s call it Faith, is an incredible grace. It doesn’t change the way things are, but it does change the way we can respond to them. With Faith, life is a whole lot better. With Faith, we can let go of the worrying and put our trust in God. With Faith, we understand that God has a plan for us and that we can and should put our fears aside to follow where He leads us.

With Faith, we’ll always get what we need.

Suffice it to say I’ve been Rickrolled for the last time.

Now that I’ve finished all my blustering and posturing, I can admit that I will inevitably be caught off-guard, notably by my brother, and I will fall prey once again to the prank. I’m also coming clean on my tendency to follow trends and propagate memes and games, which brings me to the Great Gratitude Experiment of 2008.

It sounds like it might have come right out of some mega-celebrity’s talkshow, but the truth is that I have really bought into the concept that I want to share today:

I want to make 30 consecutive posts about the things for which I am grateful. My blog is usually self-serving, often cynical, sometimes goofy, and rarely selfless. I’d like to change that, even if it’s only for 30 days.

You know what they say, if you can do something for 30 days you establish a new habit. Maybe this will be a good thing.

And in the tradition of the internet meme, I challenge you to do the same.

Today, I am grateful for my job. It gives me security and the flexibility to use my creativity for the benefit of others. And myself (sheepish grin).

Oops. Evidently I didn’t get the memo about a change. Luckily, we knew we were within about 10 miles from the new destination although we were clueless about how to get there.

We foundered for a bit, trying our best to head in the right direction, but the clock was ticking and we were starting to feel a little insecure. I capitalized on the “no-brainer” of dealing with teenage boys and pulled into a fast food joint. I could bank on their distraction with food while I got some reliable directions.

Let me just say that I don’t have an aversion to asking for help when I deperately need it. The problem is that I waste time before I get to that point of desperation. I have to admit that for me, asking for help is a deeply humbling experience–an experience I’d rather avoid if I can find another solution.

If I hadn’t been responsible for getting those kids to their meeting on time, pride might have had me driving blindly.

I hate to think about all the time I’ve wasted in my life, especially in regard to my faith formation, because pride kept me from asking for help or guidance. There are so many rich sources of guidance in our spiritual lives. Of course we always have God, scripture and the Church to guide us, but we can also turn to people, such as priests, deacons or other religious; spiritual mentors and instructors in religious education and formation groups; a wide variety of print resources such as the Catechism of the Catholic Church; and even specific ministries that feed us spiritually.

Ask and you shall receive!

What? Sacrament Season? I don’t mean it in a disparaging way at all. It’s just that traditionally First Holy Communion is celebrated in most parishes around April and May. I love this time of year. I love to see the second-graders all dressed up and nervous about their big day. I love to see the smiles and joy on their faces when they come back from the very first time they receive Jesus, His Precious Body and Blood a physical part of them like never before.

It’s an awesome day for them, but for me, the day serves as a reminder that I sometimes put my faith life on auto-pilot, and go through the motions without the awe that is an integral part of the Sacrament of Holy Communion. Those little people remind me of the monumental gift that Christ has given us all.

In our parish, the youth received the Sacrament of Confirmation on the same day as the younger kids received First Holy Communion (in different Masses). My son was confirmed that evening, and unlike the other sacraments of initiation, where I first presented him for baptism, and later took him to sacrament preparation class for communion, this time, it was his choice to pursue the Sacrament of Confirmation.

His father and I raised him Catholic, of course, and we taught him in the home through example as well as more formal instruction. In our minds, there was no question that he would choose to follow-through with the life of faith that we had modeled for him. Nevertheless, the formation process for our son concentrated less on our participation and more on his acceptance of and pursuit of the preparation necessary for him to take this step. I can say that it was truly his choice to be confirmed—his choice to stand up in front of our family and faith community and publicly declare his beliefs for all the world to see.

Too often, our youth experience Confirmation as an end—an end to formal religious formation, an end to “having” to go to church, sadly, an end to having God at the center of their lives. It is not a graduation of the faith, but a commitment to embark on a life-long journey of faith.

My son had ample time to discern that commitment, and several opportunities to step away and put it off, but he chose the path of faith. That path will not always be an easy one. It will have some bumps and scary places, and sometimes some alluring side-roads. In the end, though, it will be a rich journey and one that will take him closer and closer to God.

Congratulations to all the Confirmandi (and the Communicants, too)! It is a wonderful springtime in our parish families when we celebrate the future of our church.

I have often used that phrase, no man is an island, to defend or explain our need for community—whether it be for students who need a sense of belonging, or in my teaching profession when I wish to see change implemented when faced with opposition, or even in my worship, when the desire to pick up my marbles and go play somewhere else is a powerful and alluring temptation.

As human beings, we are not just social by choice; we were created to be social, to live in community, from small family units to larger groups such as clans, tribes, even nations. We shape our identities within, and as a part, of those communities. Consequently, my identity is dependent upon those communities to shape me, validate me, and sometimes, to redirect me.

Donne addresses this interconnectedness in his meditation—we are not isolated from each other, but connected. He drew this conclusion in a time where life was certainly much harder than it is today if we measure it it technological terms, but perhaps simpler and easier to navigate because of that same simplicity. After all, when Donne delivered his sermons, only a small group of people who were present in the congreagation heard it, and anyone else who wanted to know the content had to wait for it to be published and archived.

How far we’ve come! We are no longer limited to live sermons and the printed word. Most of us here have embraced what Pope John Paul II observed about the internet and the possibilities for evangelizing using this tool. He recognized the internet as a vast library filled with all kinds of information that could be used to spread the Word and bring knowledge of Christ to the whole world. What has emerged, beyond that metaphor of library, is what is often referred to as Web 2.0, or the second application of that resource.

Today, we speak of on-line communities as natural parts of our lives—not compartmentalized and left to the much-maligned stereotype of a Trekkie in his parents’ basement, but to a real-life thriving community filled with real people looking for new ways to connect with each other.

Most of us have been drawn to these web-based communities as a way to explore our faith AND technology: forums where we discuss relevant topics (and irrelevant goofiness), websites dedicated to special interests, podcasts, and video series. They all serve our need to garner information about our faith, but there is also a nuanced level of activity where we begin to recognize regulars to these sites, and begin forging on-line relationships where we can share and join together with our common interests through Facebook, and Twitter, and ustreaming, not just shows, but ourselves.

It has taken the anonymity out of the internet, and brought it into the sun, for the Son. Catholic New Media strives to do all these things—not just build community, but build upon existing community. The providers and the consumers are all a part of the new evangelization.

The image of the anti-social basement dweller is increasingly being replaced by a vibrant, living community intent on spreading the Good News in exciting new ways, and seeking human contact in the chatroom, the coffee house, and the public forums.

See you at the Catholic new Media event! I’ll be the one with the coffee cup.

Few people realize there is great power in submission. Too often we want things our way, when what we really need to do is embrace the freedom inherent in “thy will be done.”

Now, I didn’t say it was an easy thing to do. I’m as hard-headed as the next person. Sitting in Adoration praying “thy will be done” can be an exercise in futility when my heart has sincerely ended the prayer, but my mind willfully adds, “as long as it’s what I want, too.”

The thing about sitting in silence before the Blessed Sacrament is that it can be pretty deafening. The silence overwhelms, but it is necessary to keep that silence so that we can hear what is truly meaningful–and it takes some practice and effort.

I never realized how absolutely noise-filled my life has become. In fact, my environment tends to be so noisy that I have actually introduced more noise–white noise, to drown out the other unpleasant noises in my surroundings.

I’m not going to lie; I feel a bit foolish for admitting that. I mean, the concept of making more noise in order to be able to concentrate looks pretty ridiculous on paper, so I tried to figure out what is causing me so much distraction to begin with.

First, there’s the artificial climate control. To be honest, it’s not likely that I will be giving up heating or air-conditioning, but it does have a constant hum. There’s also my desk top computer. The manufacturer claims that the fans are low noise. In my noise-addled brain, I interpreted that to mean silent. I suppose that in relation to everything else, it probably is, but in truth, I can hear the incessant whir.

Then there are all of the other noise-makers in my life. The constant blare of the radio or TV. Traffic. Loud and intrusive cellphone conversations, not to mention the ridiculous ring tones and MP3 players (that must be rendering the users deaf because I can hear the music clearly). Meaningless talk to fill the silence.

There is so much noise around me that I have mastered tuning it all out. The problem is that God often becomes a casualty of that ability to tune out. Adoration gave me an opportunity to tune back in. To let go of that distracting noise and let the silence and His presence envelop me. It was better than white noise.

It was Grace.

It’s hard not to be guilty of preaching to the choir around here, after all, it’s pretty understood that most of the people who read the blogs or post on the forums are Catholics seeking to enrich and share their faith. It’s a lovely place, really. There’s serious discussion and silly discussion, and a lot in between. It’s a very public place, albeit quite intimate, too.

One of the things that we often discuss here is the domestic church. Our role, not just as parents–which gets a lot of attention–but as faithful Catholics living our faith among family and friends, is an integral part of who we are personally, and as a community. The single person living alone. The college student living in a dorm. The married couple, with or without children. The religious. All of us are the church, and we begin and end our days at home.

How do we lead Christ-centered lives? Do we start and end our days in prayer? Do we schedule our Sundays around Mass, or schedule God around our social lives?

How we play and what we do with our leisure time tells as much about us as any formal religious activity. How do you live the domestic church? Do you have special traditions or activities that are unique to your family?

This weekend was the most important day in the Christian calendar. How did you celebrate? We usually go to Mass early, and spend the rest of the day with family and friends, paying special attention to godchildren or godparents. For us, it’s the anniversary of our baptism, regardless of the actual date.

How did you make the day extra special?

originally posted April 17, 2006

I’ve never really understood the fascination with St. Patrick’s Day. I mean, I get the whole Irish thing with the patron saint, but I’m talking about the widespread celebrations that are not really Irish, and certainly not Catholic. Bizarre example: a lovely, charming, delightful, and fun NON-CHRISTIAN co-worker is behind a mid-day St. Paddy’s Day parade at work.

 A little odd?

 You betcha.

Not being the kind of person who would pooh-pooh a gift of beer, even if it is green, I decided to look into this celebration. First, a quick search of St. Patrick yielded some information I’m sure I already knew. Legend has it that St. Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland. Well, snakes are not indigenous to the Ireland, so we can look at it metaphorically and understand that he probably drove away paganism—another way of looking at it is that he evangelized the country.

St. Patrick is also credited with using the shamrock as a tool to teach about the Trinity. Personally, I think that’s brilliant. As far as saints go, his story is an interesting one—no more, but no less interesting than say, St, Joan of Arc or St. Sebastian, yet no one goes around wearing a fleur de lis or an arrow through the head on their feast days. There must be more going on.

I discovered that there are some very interesting roots to the secularization of this feast day. The first St. Patrick’s Day Parade ocurred in the U.S. in the 1770’s when an Irish regiment marched through the streets of Boston. It became a point of ethnic pride, but more than a hundred years later, when the Potato Famine in 1845 led to the immigration of over a million poor Irish Catholics, things changed. Before, the majority of the Irish immigrants had been Protestant and melted seemlessly into the predominantly Protestant United States. With this new wave of immigration, the Irish Catholics faced a great deal of discrimination and alienation. Societies arose to be sources of aid to thoses families, and eventually, the Irish community became politically and economically powerful. I would imagine that having a gigantic parade that showed off this group would certainly get the attention of anyone.

Over the years, the celebrations became bigger and bigger and turned into community events, where everyone was invited to be “Irish for the day.” Amazingly, it has only been in the last 20 years or so that Ireland has begun celebrating this holiday in the style that has become so popular in the U.S. and other English-speaking nations such as Canada and Australia (which also boast large numbers of Irish ancestry).

There are movements, however, to reign in the wild debauchery sometimes associated with the holiday, and focus on St. Patrick’s life and his mission of evangelization.

I rather like that.

In fact, I like it so much that I am moved to “wear the green” after all.

Part of the joy that I experienced with the snow was the unexpected nature of its arrival. For most of the country, winter weather will continue for many more weeks, but in the temperate southern states, our mild winter is coming to a close. In fact, we already have new grass and blooming flowers.

One thing is for sure–the weather always keeps us guessing, but we know spring is just around the courner. We prepare ourselves by weeding and cleaning up the yard so new growth can come in. We clean our homes and let the much awaited sunlight brighten our rooms. We get ready and then wait with a great deal of anticipation. Spring will arrive when it gets here–no sooner and no later, but we know that it will indeed arrive.

It’s a little bit like our faith. We need to prepare ourselves. We need to plan for that day when we will face an accounting of ourselves and our lives. Christ is coming for us, and we will not know the day nor the hour.

Lent is an opportunity to do our own spiritual spring cleaning. We need to do some weeding–of our sinful habits, our selfish and prideful behaviors, our complaceny. We need that examination of conscience, and the subsequent “cleansing” that will open our hearts and prepare our souls for the coming of Our Lord.

Holy Week is still a week away. Shake off those cobwebs; pull out those weeds. Get ready. The time is Now.

It gives us good quality time to play these games. Frankly, anything that takes us away from the TV or computer is okay in my book. The bonus of playing together as a family is that we have plenty of time for conversation. After all, we may be cut throat during a strategic move, but there’s generally laughter and banter between plays.

Playing is also an excellent opportunity for teaching and modeling appropriate behavior. We are social beings. God made us that way. He gave Eve to Adam so that Adam would have a companion. We are meant to live with others. Since our families are our first communities, it is where we learn to socialize, and more importantly, where we first learn and live the Church’s moral teachings because our parents are the first and most important catehists. It is through them that we learn about getting along with each other, and taking care of each other. It is through them that we learn to forgive, and to encourage.

Maybe the board game isn’t exactly like the board room, but it gives us an opportunity to practice the cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. We learn to make good choices, play fairly, win or lose gracefully, and follow through when sometimes we’d rather take the easy way out.

Playing as a family hones the behaviors we must exhibit in the world. That practice enables us to go out in the world well-grounded in our moral code. It doesn’t mean we’ll always win, but then again, as Christians, we’re playing a different game.

On those mornings when I am open to the Holy Spirit I usually get a treat. A surprise in the form of blooming flowers. A spectacular cloud formation. Perhaps a revelation that I needed. These treats as I call them, speak directly to me–it’s as if God is smiling at me and saying, “I am indeed here. Thanks for paying attention!”

This morning I got one of those little surprises, and once the charm and delight had settled, I realized there was great depth to the message. You see, in the rural South, churches are a dime a dozen. Anyone in the Bible Belt who is moved by the Spirit can, and often does, open their own little church. It seems like every mile or so I encounter one of these meeting houses. Their charm lies in the clever messages posted on their signs. This morning’s treat said:

THE CHURCH IS A GIFT FROM GOD.

ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.

I laughed out loud at the call for attendance. After all, what good is having the building if no one attends? The Church is indeed a gift from God. However, more than just a building, the Church is made up of the people assembled in the building. WE are the Church, and that leads me to the deeper meaning of “assembly required.”

It is our responsiblity, the faithful, to build the Church. Certainly, we have a fiscal responsibility to maintain its physical plant, but more than that, we have a spiritual obligation to build, “to assemble,” a Church that fulfills Christ’s call to us.

How we accomplish this depends on our commitment to follow through, not just with our Treasure, which is essential to the operations, but also in using our other resources that contribute to the programs necessary to “assembling” a faith experience for us, the Church.

Each of us has gifts of Talent as well as Time, so that we can build that Church. Instead of looking at what is already housed within that building, we can look outside, and see where we can gather more tools, more materials to help us keep building a bigger, better Church.

It’s a call to evangelization:

*Assembly Required

The reunion came at a time when things were ripe for the trip that he made to rejoin his siblings, nieces, and nephews. What could have been a brief hop across a mere 90 miles turned into a journey that required a great deal of planning and coordination, and while left unspoken, probably included a great deal of sacrifice as well.

Why bother?

Because the pull of family is stronger than the current in the Gulf Stream, more powerful than the threats of a totalitarian regime. In his own words, my uncle said that he had come “to see for himself who we are.”

Although my time with him was brief, I packed as much as I could into the visit. There were hours and hours of conversations. Storytelling. Sharing. Even a little bit of political debate. It was the political debate that somehow went full circle back to the whole purpose of the visit: family. It is a powerful force, one that the Catechism teaches “is the original cell of social life.”

Three generations were present in my parents’ home, and the one thing that was held in common, the one thing that transcended culture, age, and even separation was the tight-knit structure of our family. It is stronger than the forces that strive to pull it apart.

Family, especially the traditional extended family with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, is threatened in modern times. Society would have us believe that family is whatever combination of people in our lives that we “define” as family. Perhaps there is a little bit of truth in that, and a great deal of comfort, too. It’s not enough, though.

We can’t just pick and choose from those that we like or that feed our selfish desires. In family, too, can be found struggle and discontent. The Catechism teaches that, “Authority, stability, and a life of relationships within the family constitute the foundations for freedom, security, and fraternity within society.” It is where we learn to get along in the world. While it is certainly a source of comfort and security, it is also a microcosm of the difficulties that are faced outside the family in society. It is an essential tool in the establishment of, and participation in a world that often challenges those very ideals espoused in family. “The family is the community in which, from childhood, one can learn moral values, begin to honor God, and make good use of freedom.”

Family is the gateway, our introduction into society. Without it, we are ill-equipped to survive, but with it we are armed with the essential skills to make a positive impact in our world.

It’s God’s plan for us.

Catechism of the Catholic Church ref # 2207

Really, I thought my father was a psycho control freak and that my mother was somehow weak for letting him be such a boor. The idea of honoring these people who were perpetually in my way was not only foreign, but really a drag. And this, after a wonderful and loving childhood, and the best and most loving parents ever.

Why then, did I have such a difficult time with this commandment?

As usual, the problem was with me and my limited ability to understand what was really being asked of me. In my narrow scope, all I was thinking about was that “honoring” meant “obedience.” Well. Yes. Certainly that is a big part of it, and in spite of my snottiness I was relatively obedient. I carried that off better on some days. Other times, let’s just say I took a very loose interpretation of the word.

It meant, also, that I should not be disrespectful to them. I could check that off the list as “done.” Well, “mostly done.” I’m sure I had my share of rebellious back talk, but I never treated them poorly or said really atrocious things.

So, I figured, I was off the hook. I got passing marks on the “honor” bit.

It’s only now, as an adult, that I really see the importance of that commandment. There is much more than just the surface elements of obedience and respect. It is a call to a different and more meaningful respect. It is a call to know and understand, not just the love and sacrifice that went into raising me, but the values, and the need for those values that they imparted in me.

To honor my parents entails an understanding of, and acceptance of those values. It is the respect that I hold for their wishes that I should be a good, God-fearing person. It is living the life they sacrificed for, in a manner that would be pleasing to them and to God. It is the commitment to pass on those values to a new generation.

As my parents age and the reality of an increasingly short period of time to spend with them comes to the forefront of my thoughts, I am challenged by a new way of honoring them. The day will come when I have to care for them as they cared for me. It will, most likely, create an element of sacrifice in my life that I am unsure I have the strength to execute.

But after a lifetime of giving lip service to that commandment, I’m sure of my ability to obey and respect—to honor. This time, I won’t do it because I was told, or because it’s necessary, or because society expects me to do it. No. I will do it because I want to do it. Because they deserve it. Because nothing would give me greater pleasure than to honor the people who taught me the value of Honor.

I am continually amazed by the richness of our religion and how it can serve us, first at the rudimentary stages of a fledgling faith, and then carry us into a profound and deeper understanding of God and His unconditional and sacrificial love for us. When we are children we must be commanded in order to learn and grow, but when we learn to follow those commands and understand them and incorporate them into our being, not so much because we are told, but because in submitting we see the truth in it, then we really begin to live that faith in the fullest, most rewarding way.

The staff was asked to dress up.

I thought about that for a moment, because, you know, I think I dress professionally for work. I have the standard collection of suits. I brush my hair. I wear lipstick.

I got over the offense, though. First, none was intended, but second, I realized that the term hasn’t started yet, and between terms we have a standing “business casual” dress code. Oh. My bad. It was just a friendly reminder that today was not a “business as usual” type of day, but rather, something very special.

It makes me think about putting my best foot (and the rest of me) forward in my spiritual appearance. I don’t mean that I put on external trappings of hypocrisy to impress others, but the sincere effort to be my best at all times, not just when I “have to.”

Sure, I go to Mass, participate in the Sacraments, attend Holy Day services. I’m supposed to, right? But the big question is whether or not I retain that holiness and allow the graces granted me by the Holy Spirit to carry over into the daily “business casual” days. Am I living my faith in everything I do, especially when I don’t have to, or aren’t seen, or am not publicly held accountable?

I need to work on the spiritual equivalent of dressing up. After all, I’m waiting on the most important dignitary of all, and I have to be ready at a moment’s notice.

This is the week that we’ll jump in the car and ride around town looking for the ubiquitous home that mixes and matches all things Walmart in an effort to create the perfect lawn display.

We give awards for the most tasteful displays, even though there’s a great deal of debate within the family about the appropriate choice for lights. Some of us like the simple white lights, understanding that less is more and there is great beauty in being understated and classy. Others, who shall remain nameless, have the philosophy that more is more, the gaudier the better, and prefer to not only have a vomitosis of multiple colors, but must also have the epilepsy attack inducing blinking and chasing lights–mixed up! so that some parts are merely blinking, and others are chasing, and some are chasing AND blinking. We love said family member all the same, but we really need an intervention.

We reserve all of our sarcasm and wit for the folks who so sweetly abandon theme altogether, and have the juxtaposition of Santa Claus and Baby Jesus together, not just in the same part of the yard, but side-by-side.

Who knew Santa Claus was one of the wisemen? I love the cheesy Santa kneeling at the Baby’s manger, bringing milk and cookies. I am always astounded by the vision of camels and palm trees surrounded by Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph, and a candycane field–or, could those be the shepherds staffs?

We laugh and point our fingers, and engage in all kinds of mockery, but there must be some redeeming aspect of our outing, doncha think?

Indeed, it is in the joy of family and friends being together and having fun. We can understand that the true meaning of Christmas, Christ’s Mass, the birth of our Savior, is what this is about. Christmas is the biggest birthday party of the year; it’s a lot of fun to celebrate. But the camaraderie, the fun, the JOY must center around the birth of our Lord. Even plastic Santa gets it, when he kneels before the Baby. Remember that this joyous celebration carries with it a great deal of sobering Truth, that this babe in swaddling cloths has come to save us.

God spared Mary from the original sin, which mars each of us. We inherit this lack of grace from Adam’s original sin, and it is washed away at our baptism. Mary, however, was conceived with sanctifying grace.

It makes sense that Mary, who was to be the vessel to carry Jesus, should be holy and full of grace. The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines this sanctifying grace as “a stable and supernatural disposition that perfects the soul itself to enable it to live with God, to act by his love” (CCC 2000).

Mary was prepared by God to be the mother of His Son. She was made holy at her conception so that she could bring forth this great gift to mankind. As Catholics, we venerate Mary because she accepted the charge to trust God and obey.

“The Virgin Mary most perfectly embodies the obedience of faith. By faith Mary welcomes the tidings and promise brought by the angel Gabriel, believing that ‘with God nothing will be impossible’ and so giving her assent: ‘Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord; let be done to me according to your word.’… It is for this faith that all generations have called Mary blessed” (CCC 148).

And it is for this reason that we look to Mary as a model for our behavior—to trust Jesus, and do as He says.

Dios le perdonó el pecado original, el pecado que tenemos todos al ser humanos. Nosotros recibimos éste pecado a consecuencia del pecado de Adán, pero a través del bautizo es perdonado. Sin embargo, a María, Dios le concedió la ausencia del pecado original. Dios le dió una gracia santificante.

Sabiendo que María sería la madre de Jesús, entendemos la necesidad de que fuera santa y llena de gracia. El Catecismo de la Iglesia Católica nos dice: “La gracia santificante es un don habitual, una disposición estable y sobrenatural que perfecciona al alma para hacerla capaz de vivir con Dios, de obrar por su amor” (CIC 2000).

Dios preparó a María para ser la madre de su Hijo. La gracia santificante la hizo pura y santa, para poder llevar este sacrificio a cabo. Veneramos a María porque ella aceptó el cargo de confiar en Dios y obedecerlo.

“La Virgen María realiza de la manera más perfecta la obediencia de la fe. En la fe, María acogió el anuncio y la promesa que le traía el ángel Gabriel, creyendo que ‘nada es imposible para Dios” (Lc 1,37; cf. Gn 18,14) y dando su asentimiento: “He aquí la esclava del Señor; hágase en mí según tu palabra’ (Lc 1,38). Isabel la saludó: “¡Dichosa la que ha creído que se cumplirían las cosas que le fueron dichas de parte del Señor!” (Lc 1,45). Por esta fe todas las generaciones la proclamarán bienaventurada” (CIC 148).

Por esta razón miramos hacia María como ejemplo para nuestras vidas. Nos guía para entender a Jesuscristo—y hacer lo que El nos diga.

On my drive to the office, I pondered the possibilities for today’s musing. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. I was a bit busy sight-seeing. After dropping off my freshman in the city, I had to cut through back streets, or endure Monday morning traffic on the interstate. I opted for the longer, but definitely less stressful drive through magnolia tree laden neighborhoods.

There’s such beauty in the old parts of town. I guess we could spend a great deal of time detailing the urban decay and the issues facing the people who live within the city limits. Issues such as poverty, drug abuse, violence, hopelessness are easily the social justice challenges that we as Catholics should address, must address.

However, today I wasn’t seeing the poverty, or rather, the poverty wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts. The neighborhood was busy with the movement of people living their lives as best they can. While there were no fancy cars, people were moving toward the bus stops, holding their children’s hands. I saw an older woman sweeping the sidewalk in front of her little bungalow. Some men were selling meat pies on a street corner.

The early morning light cast a beautiful glow in the area. The sun’s rays broke through the leaves and bathed the houses in a golden shower that brightened what must sometimes be a colorless existence. The poverty was still there, and the unfortunate side effects often associated with it, but today I was blessed to see a different part of what we often see in photo essays.

When we see the poor, and let’s be honest, when we are close enough to the poor to really see them, all we see is a cliche. My dealings with the poor have more often than not been through agencies that offer aid, or on the news or in photo essays in magazines. Today I went to them, albeit indirectly. I saw something different, and it has moved me in a way that I had never before considered.

I saw people that are just like me, getting up to conduct their day’s business in the best way possible. I saw people who perhaps have less material goods than I, but have dignity and honor. I realized that the same gesture of love that I exchanged with my daughter as I dropped her off minutes earlier, was the same expression between the woman sweeping and the child she bade farewell with a kiss on the forehead.

I saw that no matter what, the overwhelming differences in our skin color, socio-economic disparity, even religious preference pale in comparison to our common humanity.

He that giveth unto the poor shall not lack: but he that hideth his eyes shall have many a curse. Proverbs 28:27

The youth were charged with being the hands and feet of Christ.

The day started out with prayer, breakfast, and getting to know each other. After that little bit of fellowship, we received our assignments. Each work crew had adult leaders from the different churches, and the youth were brought together to make new friends, share their insight, and work. There was a lot of work. Work was the order of the day.

My crew went to a private home that was badly in need of some TLC. The kids scraped old paint, fixed some loose wires, worked on the shutters, and then painted the house. One of the adults did some detailing around the house with his weed whacker. The end result was beautiful–a lovely home that just needed a little bit of attention. The bigger outcome was in the smile of the homeowner, who, due to illness and other limitations, was unable to do for herself.

There was no formal evangelization going on. No pulling out bibles. No knocking on doors to make people feel badly, or feel threatened, or even intruded upon. Instead, a vivacious group of kids did what Jesus calls us to do–they modeled Christian charity–Christian behavior–and worked side-by-side, laughing, talking, and playing. And working to help someone in the community who needed their help.

Later that evening there was a great band with praise music, games, and bonding. Jesus was everywhere, in our hearts, our actions, our lives. The kids all experienced different things, each according to his or her needs, perhaps.

I hope they all learned that putting their faith in their actions is a far greater testimonial than merely calling themselves Christian. We need to live Jesus’ calling. Otherwise, it’s just another designer label.

There are still many emotions tied to the events of this date 5 years ago. Like so many people who remember exactly what they were doing when they heard the news, I can can recall sitting in my office listening to a silly popular music morning show. I worked at my church at the time, and the morning mass had just let out, so folks were coming into the hall, getting coffee and enjoying each other’s company. When I heard the first report that a plane had flown into one of the towers, I remember thinking that is crazy!

I joined the coffee group and shared the news. By the time the second plane hit, my radio station had turned over the broadcast to its news affiliate. We pulled out a television and sat in silence as we watched the next events unfold. The collapse of the first tower are engraved in my memories like no other event in my life.

We were impotent. We did the only thing we knew to do–we prayed. We prayed for the victims. We prayed for their families and friends. We prayed for our own safety–the other events of the day were still unknown to us.

Today, five years later, I am still praying. This morning as I prayed the rosary, I meditated on the Sorrowful Mysteries, not because of the obvious sorrow that marks today, but because of the immeasurable hope inherent in Christ’s crucifixion. He died for us that we may live. Our eternal salvation is manifested in the suffering of our Lord’s passion, and in His Resurrection.

This morning I remembered the victim’s and prayed for their eternal rest, for their families and friends who are struggling emotionally, physically, and spiritually. And then I did the most difficult of all, that which our Lord calls us to do and I prayed for our enemies.

“God is our refuge and strength.” Psalms 46:1

These things garner a lot of media attention, and I think, for people who are searching for truth in their confused and misguided lives, these “signs” become meaningful.

There’s something about our human nature that fires our imaginations. I remember that as a child I would play the cloud game in a field by my home. My friends and I would lie in the grass and look for shapes, and then try to outdo each other finding the best shape in the most obscure cloud formations. Even now as an adult I look for shapes in the terrazzo floors or in patterns on big spaces. I’ve seen my share of Jesus in those random shapes. I’ve also see dragons, devils, and flowers.

Why do we do this?

I think that God, in His wisdom and love, has hardwired us to search for Him. For those of us who have been raised in loving Christian homes, our exposure to God has been a blessing. But, what of those people who don’t know God? They seem to be on a continuous quest–trying different religions, always searching, it seems, for some Truth to appear–a sign–an omen.

If someone finds God because of a grilled cheese sandwich, who am I to judge? Stranger things have happened, I’m sure, but God’s palate is far greater than a piece of toast. WE are surrounded daily by the incredible miracles that say, “I am here. I love you. I am.” We see it in the smile of a loved one. A glorious sunset. The changing leaves. The cycle of life, from birth to death.

So, enjoy your toast with the melted butter and swirled jam. You might see Jesus or the Abominable Snowman, but eat it anyway. The real deal is in the Sign of the Cross.

Indeed. What we are.

So what does it mean to be Catholic? Many years ago, I participated in an unusual study at an Archdiocese. It was one of those diversity training initiatives and I was hired as an observer. The participants were asked to describe their ethnicity and what made them unique. One gentleman explained that being Catholic defined every aspect of his person, more than his sex, more than his Irish heritage, more than his southern roots.

He explained that his world view allowed him “to see the forest, while recognizing the value of each individual tree. Without the trees, there would be no forest.”

I thought about that for a long time, and how he viewed Catholicism. It is an inclusive religion. We recognize that we are all God’s people, whether or not we accept Him. We are all valued persons, whether or not we call ourselves Catholic. The Church’s teaching on social justice is just one example of that idea brought to action.

The universality of our faith, our catholicism–small “c”–defines us more clearly than other labels. Even our fallen away brothers and sisters often continue to identify themselves as Catholic. This culture unites us in many ways, most of them stemming from the small traditions that are handed down generation after generation, especially devotions that run in families or ethnic groups. We often share stories of our adventures in parochial schools–stories about uniforms, the Religious who taught us, celebrations–and for those of us who attended public schools, the misadventures with cafeteria food on Fridays in lent, that “smudge” on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday, crossing ourselves in [a sometimes hostile] public.

We don’t have to wear a shirt that proclaims our faith to the world (my daughter’s hoodie was a souvenir from the Eucharistic Congress), especially since our actions, our beliefs, our responses to the things happening around us are a far greater example, or indictment. Instead, let’s pay close attention to what we say in our Profession of Faith, and then live it, fearlessly.

I love those kids fiercely. He has two older brothers, and two younger sisters, and together, they make up a hysterical, and very loving family. We picked up the habit of referring to each other as cousins, and so the family ties, if not genetically authentic, are certainly emotionally authentic. How beautiful to have someone so near me accept God’s call to serve Him.

Knowing this kid, and his family, it’s no surprise that he should be so open to God’s plan when everybody else is concerned with escaping parental supervision and throwing themselves headlong into the college experience. Don’t get me wrong, David is through and through a fun-loving, adventurous young man, with a gift for drawing, a flair for dancing, and definitely an eye for the ladies (maybe it’s the other way around–he always had a beauty by his side for homecoming and prom!). He is a happy, healthy young man, and he has his head on straight and his priorities in line. If, as he says, God wants this, then he’ll make a fine priest.

How do we raise our children to be so open to God’s plan for us? We don’t have to raise future priests (what a bonus!), but how do we raise young people who understand their place in God’s universe, and live according to His will and plan? It’s not an easy task, especially today. And yet, this family, my cousins, make it seem effortless.

The truth is that it takes a great deal of effort and discipline and love. Always love. In my experience, the ones who look like everything they do is easy are the ones who work the hardest at achieving this end. When everyone else was tired and just wanted to go home, they were out, as a family, attending catechism classes. When everyone else was sleeping in, they were getting 5 children ready for Mass. When it was easier to stay home and shut the curtains on the world, they were out in it, living and loving and sharing their lives with young and old alike.

This young man and his siblings have experienced first hand what it means to value God’s gift of life, from respect for the unborn to respect for the old and infirm. In all they do, God’s love envelopes them, whether or not it is stated in those explicit terms. His parents have sown the seeds of faith through their living example.

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” – Proverbs 22:6

Consider a typical week in my house. Two parents working full time. Two teenagers attending high school, with advanced courses, and extracurricular activities. A teenager living away at college needing attention occasionally. A house that requires its regular maintenance, plus everything that homeowners need to continue to upgrade and keep it well-kept.

And the weekly lament, “Where did all this laundry come from?”

We are quite simply overwhelmed by our responsibilities. I admit that many of those demands are my own fault. I mean, I don’t really have to do all those things that I volunteer for, or step into, or consider indispensable. Yet, there are some things that truly are indispensable. While clutter may make me crazy, its close cousin, dirt, is not acceptable. I can’t escape the need to clean the house. And while I could certainly stand to lose a few pounds, getting groceries is another one of those indispensable activities.

By Saturday afternoon, my exhaustion wins. To be honest, I have given up my social life. I am too tired; jumping into my jammies and hanging around the house is, hands down, the only kind of entertainment I want. Of course, what doesn’t get finished on Saturday just flows into Sunday. I do it, even rationalize it, but it doesn’t make it a good move on my part.

What am I to do? Perhaps a better question is, what am I called to do on Sunday? One of the remarkable things about the Catholic Church’s teachings is that it is truly a religion for the whole person. I challenge anyone to find a teaching that doesn’t promote a physical, emotional, or spiritual need. You won’t find it. I’d bet my life. OK, I’m not really a betting woman, so I’ll say my eternal life rests on it.

Rest, incidentally, is one of those things we’re supposed to do on Sundays. So where do we draw the line between real work and leisure? Understanding that our Sundays should center around God, how do we address the time we spend either in preparation for Mass or after Mass? Do we sleep in and enjoy a leisurely family breakfast, or do we get up early to go on a picnic. If the lawn needs work, but we enjoy gardening and the pleasure of having lovely landscaping by our own hands, is it work or play? If I enjoy cooking for my family and shopping, and can turn it into a family activity, is it work or play? After all, a leisurely stroll through the mall can be fun.

Is God at the center of my day?

I admit, I offer no real answers, but I stick by my original thoughts: on Sundays, we should rest our bodies and minds. It helps generate a mindset for worship that centers our day, and begins our week with the renewing peace of the Mass. I’d venture to say that a Sunday well-spent in God’s presence, with the Eucharist as the source and summit of our day, will give us the spiritual, emotional, and physical strength to tackle the challenges in the upcoming week.

What is the subtle difference there? They both indicate the passage of time, but the second, truer translation carries with it the implication that time runs away from us. To flee is to escape, and sometimes that’s exactly how I feel about the passage of time. I’d like to be able to capture it, and mold it to my will. Isn’t that what mankind has always wanted to do? We want to “turn back the hands of time” to fix mistakes or change outcomes that distress us. So much science fiction is about time travel–to the future, the past–anywhere but the present.

The passage of time hit me hard this morning, as I dropped off my child at the university. We were running a bit late, because as usual, my sense of time is pretty fluid. She had meetings, rehearsals, activities to attend to today, and I was clearly slowing her down. On the one hand, it amuses me and thrills me to see her starting off this new phase of her life. I thought I would be upset, even weepy.

Instead, it has made me reflect. So many years ago I was dropping her off in kindergarten, and suddenly, she’s a woman off to pursue her dreams. Time, it seems, has fled and left me in the dust. When I dropped her off, she immediately joined a friend who was waiting for her. She didn’t even look back. Of course, I tell myself with the knowledge that it wasn’t goodbye, I’ve got all her things in the car for the big move-in to the dorm this afternoon, nevertheless…

I find consolation in John Paul II’s words, “it remains true that the years pass quickly, and the gift of life, for all the effort and pain it involves, is too beautiful and precious for us ever to grow tired of it.” As she embraces this new stage in her life, I too, embrace this new and beautiful phase of my life. Having grown children has opened my eyes to a new kind of relationship with them. Certainly they know they will always be loved, and I will always be available to them, but I live now with a new vicarious joy at the exciting new opportunities they will experience. My empathy, too, will be profound as they realize that life also means sacrifice and heartache.

I look to the Blessed Mother today, that I can emulate her strength and faith in letting her precious Son go into the world. How she must have cared for Him and watched over Him when He was a child, to keep Him safe and well. How she must have suffered knowing that her role as guardian was complete. It is through her example of grace and strength that I now pray:

O Heavenly Father, I commend my children to Thy care. Be Thou their God and Father; and mercifully supply whatever is lacking in me through frailty or negligence. Strengthen them to overcome the corruptions of the world, whether from within or without; and deliver them from the secret snares of the enemy. Pour Thy grace into their hearts, and strengthen and multiply in them the gifts of Thy Holy Spirit, that they may daily grow in grace and in knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ; and so, faithfully serving Thee here, may come to rejoice in Thy presence hereafter. Amen.

I wonder when I lost that joy for life. These days it seems that I am more focused on my schedule, my commitments, the next thing that I must do, that I have forgotten how to find joy in the moment.

One day while complaining about the early onset of Alzheimer’s to my cousin, he pointed out that I wasn’t suffering from memory loss. Instead, he said, I was so far into the future that the present had lost its relevance–that I was always thinking about what I had to do in 30 minutes, so I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing at the moment. Having to go back into the house to see if I had turned off the iron was my own fault for not paying attention to the ironing, instead, allowing my thoughts to race ahead to a meeting, or a class, or some other thing that I felt was more important.

His observation gave me pause. He was absolutely right. Unfortunately, he had no solution for me. I have to find that on my own.

This morning, as I watched the children in their earnest conversations I stopped for a bit longer than necessary. I smiled at them, knowing they’d smile back. I waved a “good morning” greeting to the parents. In short, I soaked up some of their joy, and found that it can be contagious.

God gave me the grace to slow down today and appreciate my life. For today, I will find happiness in someone’s smile, taste my food instead of gobble it down, listen to a favorite CD instead of focusing on how long the commute takes. I will take joy in today, and leave tomorrow to God.

As adults, we ought to consider balance and continuity in our faith lives. Certainly, we attend Mass weekly, and understand the church’s teaching on the regular need for the sacrament of reconciliaton, but what else are we doing to ensure our faith formation?

I’ve often marvelled at the term we use when describing our religious affiliation. We say we are “practicing” Catholics. Of course, we use “practicing” to indicate that we are “followers of” Catholicism, but I prefer to see it as “working at, or improving” our Catholicism. If we don’t actively engage in our Catholicism, how can we become better Catholics? We need to practice in order to get closer to God.

The richness of our faith traditions gives us many formal and informal opportunities to practice our faith, to give it balance and continuity in our lives. We can begin with Stewardship: you’ve seen those signs for Time, Talent, and Treasure. What does it mean? In the big picture, it means that we are actively engaged in the practice of being Catholic.

The gift of time is a sacrifice in a modern society where we spend so much of our day at work and commuting. Giving up some of our leisure time for work in a ministry, however, has benefits for everyone. This overlaps a bit with the gift of sharing our talents because often we choose to work within our skills and interests. The gift of our treasure, or tithing, is also a sacrifice, especially when our budgets have been hit hard by rising costs. We need to practice our giving, and as we learn to balance our time and budget, our giving of time, talent, and treasure gets easier.

Building an active prayer life also requires practice. Most of us here at Rosary Army have committed to praying the rosary daily. For a long time, I had to use a cheat-sheet to keep the mysteries straight. Anybody that has ever started praying the Liturgy of the Hours knows that the first few weeks are daunting, but it gets easier with practice. You rosary makers know that the first rosaries are the hardest, but after practice, your fingers move expertly and quickly.

The next time you describe yourself as a practicing Catholic, ask yourself if you are getting all the practice that you need. Join a ministry, take a class (better yet, teach a class!), challenge yourself to give a little more in the collection. Keep practicing! You’ll be a better Catholic for your efforts. We may not be perfect, but we can practice.

The conflict in the story centers around the conversations leading up to the decision for one man to go alone and abandon his friend. This is not a family drama. Besides being an adult theme, the language and content of some of the conversations are certainly going to offend since the dialogue captures the frustrations and fears of those two men, literally on the brink of death.

Nevertheless, the themes of allegiance, love, and sacrifice are explored. The basic argument is that the able-bodied man refuses to leave his friend to die alone thereby condemning himself to death as well. At the same time, the injured man, coming to terms with his fate, wants his friend to save himself. It is a stalemate until both men finally confess their fears to each other.

The able-bodied man does not want to live with the knowledge that he abandoned his best friend in a time of need. The injured man wants his friend to deliver a message of love to his wife and son and asks that his friend live with survivor’s guilt and deliver the message.

I thought about their sacrifices long after the play. Each man acted out of love for the other. One would suffer a tragic death alone, and the other would live with the emotional scars of that knowledge. It often bemuses me to see a biblical truth expressed in secular entertainment, especially because it’s rarely credited, since the message of this play comes straight from the New Testament. Jesus tells us that, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). There’s no denying that these men truly loved one another, and each one made a great sacrifice for the other.

We rarely encounter the need for that kind of sacrifice in our daily lives, yet often we overlook small opportunities to validate friends that go unnoticed because we are unwilling to set aside our interests. Too often we are looking for the big and dramatic, when small and meaningful would do as well. Our complex world is slowly zapping our humanity, making us automatons in the workplace, and carrying that over into our relationships. We shouldn’t need a tragedy that puts us in a life and death situation to find that love. A lifeline of a different kind is all we need. Phone a friend.

Chad Darnell and his brainchild, the 12 of 12 picture project– a pictorial record of our lives on the 12th day of the month.

I spent this past weekend glued to my computer whenever I had a chance, looking over the many 12 of 12 entries listed at Chad Darnell’s site. The idea seems to be catching on like wildfire, and it’s really quite a bit of fun. You can read about it here, and maybe it will inspire you to participate in the next round on August 12th.

That little germ of an idea has grown into some very interesting things, perhaps some things that weren’t necessarily on Chad’s mind when he created it, and certainly not on my mind when I first tackled the balancing act of capturing myself in action. You see, the idea of documenting my day, and sharing it with the world sounded like fun. It would be a cool way to see what was going on in other parts of the world. It was also a bit scary–this idea of exposing myself to a bunch of unknown voyeurs, critiquing me, my lifestyle, my messy desk…well, maybe it wasn’t such a cool idea after all.

Nevertheless, I have an adventurous spirit, so I plowed ahead. I got hooked, not just on presenting my day, but seeing everyone else’s day. I even got a little bold and posted comments on some pages.

I’ve learned a great deal about human nature through those candids. It’s really a phenomenal study of the human condition. Guess what? We are all the same, everywhere. Our teeny tiny differences pale in comparison to the BIG PICTURE. You see, everybody is just a little bit grumbly about starting the day early, and everybody eats something weird for breakfast (my kids make fun of my plain yogurt, honey, and granola bowl–you should see some of the gross things those runners eat). Everybody has a commute, whether it’s a drive, a walk, or a ride on public transportation.

On a different level, we also get a glimpse of some more serious elements, found in the captions to those pictures. We see the different paths that people take in their lives, through snippets of married life, single life, children, pets, and professional and personal pursuits. It’s cool to see a mom driving around all day, or a long distance runner loading up on a high protein diet (those shakes have nice sounding names–do they taste good?). We also get a subtle peek at the joys and anxieties that define the human condition. Not only do we see the mundane moments in our lives, but we capture a hint of our dreams. I’m glad I’m not the only one that wishes I was anywhere but at work, and I like my job!

But in a bigger scheme, it does drive home the point that we are all a part of the great human race. We are brothers and sisters, and share much more than what we sometimes believe or create in our minds as barriers to that connection.

If anything, this project has raised in me a new appreciation for the Church’s teaching on social justice and how we value each other as human beings: 361. “This law of human solidarity and charity, without excluding the rich variety of persons, cultures and peoples, assures us that all men are truly brethren.”

Psychologists tell us that these mini-vacations are very important to our emotional and mental health. They don’t have to tell me twice. Every chance I get I shoot down to Miami. There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal, made by my own Mommy. The ultimate comfort food is anything that she makes, whether it’s a delicious roast or a fried egg sandwich.

The visits are really never long enough, but have become a necessary part of my life. It reconnects the children with their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. My nieces and nephews are growing up so quickly, that these trips are essential for me to be able to have a relationship with them. After all, my parents had me for 20 something years, they know me, but the little ones–if I’m not there, they grow up without knowing me, and vice versa.

The point is, talking on the phone and sending emails isn’t enough. I need to be physically present to fully recharge those relationships.

Consider how Eucharistic Adoration fulfills this same need in our spiritual lives. Spending a little quiet quality time in Adoration recharges the spirit, and opens up a new way to explore our relationship with Jesus Christ. We don’t have to wait for a holiday, or a Holy Day, or even a special event like the Eucharistic Congress. Adoration doesn’t have to be at a prescribed time, or in a prescribed manner (although, you should check out the incredible experience of Adoration and Benediction).

For many of us, the idea of adoration as a formal event is rather foreign to us, but like my impromptu visit with my parents, an impromptu visit to Jesus, in the Blessed Sacrament, has immeasurable graces. Give it a try. Go visit your Father. He left the light on.

Of course! I smiled and thanked him, and then we chatted a bit about his young children. He shared with me that one day he hopes to look up and see all his children participating, and then asked me how my husband and I accomplished this. I shrugged and said, “It just happened.”

We all know it didn’t “just happen.” The implication that somehow my husband and I had something to do with it is laughable. You see, we are the fruit of what our religious education director calls “backdoor catechesis.” We didn”t invite God through the front door, so He entered through the open door in back.

Sadly, like so many Catholics, we fell away from the church in our 20’s–not from some dramatic event, but from the casual drift that starts one Sunday at a time with a picnic, a day trip, a subtle yet misguided rationalization that once in a while wouldn’t matter. In the end, it resulted in our Mass attendance being “once in a while” and then…never.

When the children were born, the realization that we had made a promise to raise them Catholic struck home, and we returned to the Mass, if only for appearances. And this is where the Holy Spirit entered our lives. As they were growing up and getting involved in more and more activities, we attended those activities, slowly taking on a participatory role.

What that gentleman assumed was the result of our example to the children is actually the reverse! When we hear people say that children are a blessing, we often think of the joy they bring us, or the security for our old age, but rarely do we recognize how that blessing brings us closer to God. It started with the practical understanding of unconditional love and forgiveness and has grown and grown and grown. I am thankful that we found our way back to God through His gift of children.

For the rest of you, get over it! I did my time for the crime: I worked the RA booth all day at the Eucharistic Congress. It was supposed to be penance. When Greg called needing bilingual help, I was happy to volunteer (actually, I was going to do it anyway, but it was a nice fit–I mean, I was still feeling quite contrite).

What I wasn’t expecting was the incredible experience that I had. You see, I didn’t see the procession in with the Blessed Sacrament. I missed every single one of the presentations. I didn’t get a chance to go to Adoration, or visit any of the venders. I barely had a chance to eat or drink anything.

I did make a lot of knots. I made so many knots that my fingernails hurt today. My hands are stiff. My back hurts from standing for many hours. I repeated “We make them–pray them–give them away–Pick the one you like, it’s really free–but we’ll happily take a donation!” so many times, I’m going to beg for a new tag line. The blister on my finger is really gross. Sounds like I paid back my boo-boo huh?

NO. In fact, I was rewarded, and what a glorious reward it was! I experienced the church in action on Saturday. It was beautiful. It was diverse. It was alive.

We are the Church. You, and me.

I worked side by side with a priest carrying a microphone, a young mother with eyes in back of her head, teenagers, and senior citizens. I spoke with many people with a profound love of the rosary, and many more who listened attentively as I explained it.

I laughed over awful knots, and praised the diligent for persevering. I taught people who never knew they could make a rosary. I listened to stories of miracles, and conversions, and praise. I overheard many conversations about the profound experience others were having. I cried at hearing my own daughter’s.

This was atonement? I need more atonement in my life.

The day was too short–over too soon. We ran out of rosaries and materials at the end, right at the end because as always, God provides what we need.

The last person to ask for a rosary got a very special one, as Greg dug in his pocket and pulled out his own, and explained to a wide-eyed little girl that the crucifix on it is very special, blessed by Pope John Paul II.

I watched as the little girl received it reverently in both her hands, and a humble man on a mission nodded his head and got back to the work at hand. It was the embodiment of our faith, for it is in giving that we receive.

I’ve lived in many places. In Miami, the heat blankets you the moment you step outside (after freezing air conditioning, it’s a relief!). In Bamberg, Germany the crisp cold air is invigorating. In Aix-en-Provence, France the cool mornings beckon, calling for a day of adventure.

But nothing can compare to the feelings elicited by a fresh summer morning at home in the South. I grew up in Atlanta, so the return to the area ten years ago had an added treat. I’ve been able to rediscover many of the things I did as a child. It’s amazing how my memories are tied to smells and sounds. It’s kind of like being Catholic! My memories are interwoven with all my senses.

This morning I was treated to two blasts from the past: one from my childhood, and one from when we first moved here. I woke up with a dull headache–I’m getting a migraine and there’s nothing I can do but let it run its course. I overslept, was late for work, and rushed out of the house. As soon as I stepped outside, it was like being transported to 1975! It smelled, looked and felt like those summer mornings when my brother and I would ride our bikes to the neighborhood park for swim team practice.

In the early morning, it was just cool enough to feel good–the dew was heavy on the grass, and it smelled “fresh,” like we were the first ones up to experience the world. I often remarked, to weird smirks from my friends, that the world looked like it was in Technicolor. And yet, God’s palate is infinitely more colorful and impressive.

That moment of reacting–of being in the moment in the presence of God revitalized me although I hadn’t consciously recognized it. That happened a few minutes later.

Moving to hilly Georgia after a lifetime of flat vistas in South Florida was quite a shock for my young children. Every hill, every rolling field looked like the Alps to them. At the crest of one of those hills, emerging from tall trees that obscure everything, is a wide open area where we can see the sun coming up over the horizon. On most mornings we would ’suddenly’ come upon the sun, and a spontaneous prayer of thanksgiving, “Good morning, God!” started their day. They claim to have forgotten this morning ritual, along with many other things that we did.

I thought I had forgotten, too. But then I saw the sun. “Good morning, God! Thank you for such a beautiful day.”

My classmates and I shared the same values. We had many of the same experiences. In those days if one of our peers had lost a parent or had divorced parents, we recognized the situation as somehow tragic. Being raised by grandparents or other adults was certainly not the norm, and in those cases where we knew about those situations, the child was often pitied, and sadly, sometimes teased. That non-traditional families existed is undeniable, but they were more often than not the result of circumstances beyond control, not choice.

Sometime in my teenage years, during the wildly egocentric 70’s, the definition of family changed subtly. There was no legislation that defined family; as a society we started to use terms such as extended family and non-traditional family. By the 90’s most of those “disclaimers” had been dropped and family was whomever you felt a connection with, regardless of the real kinship. On the one hand, that inclusiveness celebrated the bonds that unify us in meaningful relationships. On the other hand, it validated the deterioration of a value system that as a culture was both meaningful and necessary for creating a stable, healthy home life for children.

We can look to Scripture to see God’s plan for the family. Jesus had both a mother, and an earthly foster father. Joseph was married to Mary. Together they formed a family, The Holy Family.

Our families should be holy, too. As we live to emulate the model given to us by God, we must recognize and acknowledge the holy family as the first and most important institution for educating children, not only in our Faith, but in all the social values necessary for healthy adult relationships, whether they are exercised in the community, work force, or in the creation of new families.

Too often we are hesitant to speak the truth for fear of hurting someone’s already bruised feelings. There are a multitude of reasons why a child might need to be raised in a non-traditional family. Death and divorce are real threats to the traditional family. Poverty, violence, and an increasingly complex pluralistic world crumble the foundation upon which families are built. In the absence of a mother or father or both, we know that it is possible for a child to be raised in a loving and nurturing environment. Nevertheless, the best environment continues to be the model of The Holy Family.

Take a moment, then, to remember our fallen heroes and to especially keep those who are currently serving in our Armed Forces in your prayers. Remember, too, the families of those soldiers, who bear a burden few of us understand or appreciate. May God bless and keep them all safe.

Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi

Lord, make us instruments of your peace.

Where there is hatred let us sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is discord, union;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that we may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

She delivered the Invocation at an ecumenical Baccalaureate yesterday. It was a beautiful prayer, delivered with style and poise; in short, she was herself as she addressed the congregation. I must admit that my satisfaction as a parent lies not in how many awards and accomplishments she’s managed to rack up, but that she tackles each new challenge to the best of her ability.

How joyous to use our God-given gifts!
How pleased He must be when we use them to glorify Him!

God’s gift to me, in three beautiful and wonderful children, has had far-reaching effects on me. I have been known to get neurotic about their safety, and these days the neurosis tests new limits as I ponder what the future will hold for my new graduate as she steps out into the world. She’ll just be across town, but it might as well be across the world if she’s not at home.

Nevertheless, this bonus gift of motherhood came in the form of a renewed understanding of God’s parental love for us. Unconditional love, sacrifice, pride, compassion, empathy, and joy, to name a few emotions, come with the bundles of joy that we hold onto so tightly when they are young, and so fiercely when they are about to leave.

Congratulations to the Class of 2006, and may God bless each of you.

There are so many things in life to be passionate about. We can be passionate about our work, for example. MY vocation is teaching. It makes it especially wonderful that it is my avocation, too. Sometimes I can’t believe that I actually get paid to do something that I would do for fun. That, my friends, is passion.

Imagine how much more gratifying it must be to be called to the priesthood or religious life. Man, that’s the ticket. These men and women serve God and their fellow man. Many of us have encountered priests, deacons, brothers, and sisters who are absolutely on fire for God. Many lay folks carry that torch into unlikely places. How beautiful that the flame warms us up a bit, too.

Nevertheless, sometimes that fire goes out, or appears to be out. I admit that I phoned in my class last Saturday. Yep. I showed up with no clue. I repeated by rote directions for an assignment that I’ve done the same way for over 20 years.

Where did my passion go? I lost it. Simple. I couldn’t have been more apathetic if I had detailed a plan to make all my students run from the course. I didn’t want to get out of bed; I didn’t want to make the drive; I definitely didn’t want to see the students, and the big motivator, the paycheck, wasn’t much of a motivator. Apathy, the polar opposite of passion, was the order of the day.

But what happens to us when our passion for Christ wavers? When we lose our faith? When we don’t or can’t believe? What happens to us when that little light of ours stops shining? It’s usually still there–the embers are still warm, but we don’t see it.

It can be cause for personal concern, certainly, but it also impacts those around us who benefit from the warmth from our light. Like other crises, feeling that we’ve lost the light has devastating consequences. A loss of faith is obvious, but what about a loss of connection to a community? A feeling of being cut adrift and alone in the universe? Those things are not only bad for our salvation, but terribly costly on our mental health.

My gut response is that it is a natural part of the human condition. We are complex creatures but dynamic, and that element of change has a nasty little way of creating havoc within us. Sometimes we are thirsty for change, and sometimes change hits us unexpectedly. Yet, because of our complexity, we also have the ability to learn. That is called experience.

My experiences have taught me that a loss of passion is not permanent. When I’ve stuck out relationships that got difficult, or weak, or boring, I’ve found some way to fan those almost nonexistent embers into a new fire. Perhaps, like the mythical phoenix, what appears to be a lack of faith is nothing more than some growing pains on the road to rebirth, an opportunity to forge a stronger relationship with God.

This is one of those times when it is so easy to let ourselves get caught up in the wrong elements of the moment. Too much emphasis on the clothes, the parties, the photography, distracts from the sacrament. It distracts us from the sacrifice celebrated at each Mass, and the invitation to Holy Communion.

Yet, those First Communicants appeared to be ready and solemn. It is humbling to see their joy and beaming faces at the end of Mass. For every cynical adult who thinks the children misbehave, or aren’t reverent enough in Mass, there is a child, at least on that day, who understands to his or her very core that they have participated in something so great, so profound, that nothing short of their innocent childhood enthusiasm can contain and embrace it.

Whatever lessons and habits remain after that day depend on their parents, and themselves, but as a participant in their joy on that day, I am reminded of the great gift that is the Eucharist.

It serves us all well to be reminded of the purity those children bring to the altar, and joyfully take Jesus into their hearts. We can learn much from their example.

Wow, if Mother Theresa, the embodiment of saintliness in our times suffered so, how can we, regular people living and working in the secular world possibly survive those same demons? And yet the answer is simple. The execution of it is another story, but the answer remains the same: It’s about commitment.

We make commitments all the time. Some of us are better at keeping them than others, and frankly, we see the fruit, or detritus, of how we keep those promises. We need to be at school or work on time, and actually work when we’re there. We need to feed and clothe our children, walk our pets, do the laundry, get the groceries, change the oil. In short, we have responsibilities that when fulfilled have the potential to enrich our lives, and when not fulfilled, harm us in some way.

Our relationship with God is the same. While for most of us our parents made the initial commitment at baptism, we accepted the full responsibility of joining the church at our confirmation. We invited and accepted the Holy Spirit into our hearts, and in accepting that Gift, we also made a commitment. We live and recite that commitment publicly at Mass when we recite the creed.

Like other commitments, this one is sometimes hard to keep. We have a multitude of distractions in our daily lives, mostly due to our temporal, earthly commitments. It is often tempting to let our relationship with God slide, to put it on the back burner. That is precisely when we have to remember that we made a commitment to God. At some point we’ve all gone to Mass and participated by rote, rather than true conviction. We’ve attended holy days, missions, and other functions out of obligation, rather than desire for spiritual growth.

We have come short of fulfilling our promises to God, and yet He remains steadfast in his acceptance and love for us. While we may abandon God, He does not abandon us. Like other commitments, this one requires work. It’s not a one-way road from God to us; we need to take an active role in building and keeping that relationship alive and flourishing. It’s still Easter, the season of renewal. Today is a good day for an examination of conscience. How can we invigorate our relationship with God?

Many people in the extended RA family have been suffering a lot lately. We could argue that it is a part of life. Countless years of humanity’s history are filled with the musings of philosophers asking the eternal question, “Why, God?”

The blockbuster comedy, Bruce Almighty, has a scene that is wish fulfillment for many of us. Bruce comes face to face with God, and asks, “Can I ask why?” and God, pleased, replies, “Yes!” Of course, the implication is that we can ask, in fact, that we are encouraged to ask. When no answer is forthcoming, we are left with egg on our faces–the joke (or the yolk) is on us.

In reality, we have the answer all around us. Scripture provides that answer throughout the Psalms, which have as a recurring theme the greatness of God’s mercy. We suffer, not because we are being punished for our sins, but because in our suffering we grow closer to God.

Although most of us will be spared the dramatic tragedies that Job faced, each setback, each hardship, each personal tragedy can seem to us insurmountable. And yet, it is during these most difficult times, when we are feeling inconsolable, that like Job, our faith is tested.

St. Faustina’s message in the revelation of the Divine Mercy is both simple and profound, and has the answer to what we seek:

Pray for mercy
Be merciful to others
Trust Jesus

That last one is the toughie, but it is through that trust that we find strength.

It’s hard not to be guilty of preaching to the choir around here, after all, it’s pretty understood that most of the people who read the blogs or post on the forums are Catholics seeking to enrich and share their faith. It’s a lovely place, really, There’s serious discussion and silly discussion, and a lot in between. It’s a very public place, albeit quite intimate, too.

One of the things that we often discuss here is the domestic church. Our role, not just as parents–which gets a lot of attention–but as faithful Catholics living our faith among family and friends, is an integral part of who we are personally, and as a community. The single person living alone. The college student living in a dorm. The married couple, with or without children. The religious. All of us are the church, and we begin and end our days at home.

How do we lead Christ-centered lives? Do we start and end our days in prayer? Do we schedule our Sundays around Mass, or schedule God around our social lives?

How we play and what we do with our leisure time tells as much about us as any formal religious activity. How do you live the domestic church? Do you have special traditions or activities that are unique to your family?

This weekend was the most important day in the Christian calendar. How did you celebrate? We usually go to Mass early, and spend the rest of the day with family and friends, paying special attention to godchildren or godparents. For us, it’s the anniversary of our baptism, regardless of the actual date.

How did you make the day extra special?

All I can say is that I’m glad the kids are too grown for this mess. I became curious though. What is the origin of this custom, and does the subtle use of the word Spring, to replace Easter, have any merit? After all, I don’t see a religious connection. That Santa Claus became a corruption of Saint Nicholas is fairly easy to see. But what of bunnies and colored eggs?

The Easter Bunny comes to us from the Germans (like the Christmas tree! Those Germans are a busy lot). He wasn’t a bunny, but rather, a hare. Interestingly, the ancient pagan tribes of Europe recognized the hare as a “bringer of spring” ushering in the spring time. The hare was a sign of fertility and the new birth that came with the spring. In fact, the hare has a universal appeal as the symbol of spring, with references in ancient Chinese culture all the way across the world to ancient Mayan cultures, clearly pre-dating Christianity. Our friends the Germans brought the idea to the New World settlements through the Pennsylvania Dutch.

The Easter Bunny, then, is more of a cultural symbol of the rites of spring, than a religious symbol. Nevertheless, as Catholics, our rite of spring, THE Rite of Spring, the Resurrection of Our Lord, easily overlapped the pagan practices of spring. History shows us that as Christianity spread, many of these pagan practices were absorbed and given a religious spin to help in the transition. While there is no scriptural basis for the emergence of the Easter Bunny and his egg gifts, there is certainly a traditional basis for what happened next.

During the Lenten fasts, eggs were a part of the foods that the faithful abstained from eating. Consequently, by Easter Sunday, there were quite a few eggs lying around, probably preserved, and in need of eating. The eggs were often decorated (the Greeks colored theirs red, for Christ’s blood). On Easter morning, children were given gifts of these eggs, often decorated to celebrate the Joy of the Resurrection, and so the stretch that it was the hare, laying those eggs, eventually arose. Crazy, huh?

The entertainment media bombards us with sex and violence–glorified and romanticized. The news media harangues us in the name of diversity and the acceptance of everything as normal. Increasingly, the safe haven for our values can be found only at home or in church.

Sadly, in some cases it’s missing in one or both.

What are we to do? While running away to a deserted island sounds enticing (I vote for the Caribbean), it is not only impractical, but detrimental to our spiritual development. We are called to be Christ-like. We are called to make disciples of men.

We can’t do it from an island.

Our best defense in this increasingly secular world is to live our lives as Christians within it, serving as witnesses to the Truth. Rather than shrinking from the onslaught of these worldly influences, we need to boldly make choices that bring out the Truth, not suppress it.

“Preach the Gospel. Use words if necessary.” Challenge yourself today to execute one Corporal Work of Mercy. Just one. Times all the people who read this today, imagine how many lives will be touched!

It’s an active way to engage ourselves in the world, and do it in Christ’s name.

Hint: feed the hungry, drink for the thirsty, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, visit the sick, visit those in prison, bury the dead

Were there mistakes? Sure. Was anything so disastrous that the show fell apart? Nope. In the end everyone worked together to fulfill their roles, whether large, like the Cat or Horton, or small, like JoJo or a propman. They lived the theme of the play, loosely based on Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who, that “a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

That message, as a Catholic theme, was not lost on me. Today’s society puts to the test the Church’s teachings on social justice. Like the Who’s in Whoville, too tiny to be heard, the Church identifies “the least of our brothers” to be heard above the the din of our noisy distractions.

The Church, in her wisdom, calls us to be like Horton. Do we hear the voices of the unborn? Do we hear the voices of immigrants? Do we hear the voices of the homeless, or poor, or ill?

Christ calls each of us, personally, to hear those voices. Like the fictional Horton, can we hear–and more importantly–act?

I’ve even been able to reconcile the fact that Christmas decorations have been up in our town since mid-November. A local radio station has been playing Christmas music since November first! In short, the days leading up to Christmas, once called Advent are now more accurately referred to as “shopping days.”

What I have trouble with is the fact that Christmas ends abruptly on the 25th. No more Christmas music. My neighbors must have taken down their tree on Christmas day, because it was sitting out with the garbage on Monday morning when I went outside to walk the dog. Folks, we are in the real Christmas season now–right up to Epiphany! The real season of joy is upon us!

I will continue to wish those around me a Merry Christmas instead of switching gears immediately to Happy New Year. The wreath on my door will stay up another couple of weeks. The tree can probably survive, too. Merry Christmas!

Consumerism, and the subsequent materialism are as much a part of the Christmas, excuse me, Holiday Season as eggnog and tacky lawn displays. The other day, I actually heard a report on the radio, styled after the morning traffic reports, that advised listeners about the parking situation at area malls. Clearly, there’s a lot of shopping going on around here. I guess the economy isn’t in dire straits after all.

Frankly, I like to get gifts. Who doesn’t? I’m easy, too. My Santa-list is short. I want some slippers, maybe a CD or two. I like books. I’m partial to chocolate covered cherries, although my doctor would probably frown at the additional empty calories that I certainly don’t need. Whatever. This year, I really want some new potholders that match the blue in my kitchen. That’s pretty pathetic, but I find that the best gifts are the thoughtful ones, not the expensive ones.

My favorite holiday movies, Its a Wonderful Life, and the cartoons, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and A Charlie Brown Christmas, were as much a part of my childhood as scraped knees and fights with my brother. If anyone ever questions how television influences children, one doesn’t have to look too far. The theme of all three movies is the rejection of materialism, in favor of giving to others and sharing.

The challenge this season is to maneuver the man-made minefield of consumerism and come out at the end, perhaps a better person if just a little bit broke. I won’t advocate a Spartan Christmas; we all enjoy indulging our loved ones, especially children. Instead, I suggest that we evaluate our giving to charitable organizations. Area food banks and organizations such as St. Vincent de Paul certainly need our gifts of time and money during the holidays, but I encourage a conscious commitment to add your favorite charity to your Christmas list rather than give what’s left over at the end of your shopping spree.

Won’t you add Rosary Army to your Christmas list? CindyLou Who would.

The Gifts of the Holy Spirit are plentiful: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord. Through these gifts we can exercise the good habits that make us faithful Christians. Armed with these gifts, we can explore the full measure of our faith, a journey that while not always easy, has as its ultimate destination our salvation and eternal life with God.

If faith is the act of believing, then hope becomes the emotional manifestation of that faith. It lives within us, much like Emily’s bird, providing encouragement and opening our hearts to grace. Hope is the desire for those things that we believe through our faith. Thus, it is not enough to accept and believe Christ’s promise of salvation, we must desire it, yearn for it, live for it.

Hope is that desire. It sustains us when we need it most, in our darkest hours, when adversity and despair creep into our minds, then into our hearts. It cannot, however, creep into our souls, because Hope already resides there.

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” Psalm 91

It got me thinking, though, what is faith, and why do we seem to 1) struggle with it, and 2) never seem to have the same amount as other people, not to mention the same amount consistently throughout our lives.

Faith is dynamic; it changes and grows as we change and grow. Perhaps our [selfish]needs define the extent of our faith, but always it is available. If we ignore it, or don’t use it, then we say we have a lack of faith, or we lost our faith. If we come to our senses, we proclaim we’ve found our faith.

At its very basic level, faith is belief. To have faith is to believe. To believe in God. To believe in our salvation. To believe we are not abandoned. To believe all those things we publicly profess in our Creed.

Faith, then, is an action. Faith is the acceptance of God’s invitation for salvation. We use the gifts of the Holy Spirit to recognize this and act! This act of acceptance is a leap of faith. Faith will not protect us from ills in the world. It will not exempt us from human suffering. It is not a charm that we can use to turn on and off our emotional needs. Rather, faith is a choice that we make rationally, even as we can be plagued by the irrational. It is the choice we make when we say YES to Jesus.

Thus, we can have faith and still struggle with sin; we can have faith and still feel despair. Faith is the commitment we make to God, to believe that in spite of hardships, He loves us. It is the commitment to live our lives according to His plan, and to trust Him even as we struggle with a lack of understanding. And finally, faith is the belief that in sincere repentance for our shortcomings, we will be forgiven, even for our lapses in this faith.

I admire his resolve in picking up this instrument. I think it’s part rising to the challenge, and part 13-year-old-boy gets permission to make flatulence sounds. I dunno. Whatever the reason, it’s a good lesson in life. Don’t we all have to learn things that are way more difficult than they look? I mean, how hard is it to blow into a hunk of brass and make it sound recognizable?

The truth is that very few things in life come easily. We tackle years of math problems that lead to algebra problems before we can handle Calculus. We learn to ride a tricycle, and then use training wheels, before we can follow in Lance Armstrong’s wheels. God, in His infinite wisdom, made children cute, cuddly, and totally dependent on us while we learn how to be parents, because God knows, we need a few years of practice just getting over our fear of breaking them. And to think my own parents made it look easy. After all, they had all the answers didn’t they? Yes and No. Simple.

Our faith formation is also a learning experience. Like Jonathan and his Tuba, we have to work at it and practice as often as we can. Sometimes it’s difficult, and occasionally we fall short of making beautiful music, but always we must work at it to improve and grow in our faith. We even have “spiritual scales” to help us exercise our faith: The Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy among other things. It’s no accident that we say we “practice” our faith, because it implies a long term commitment to “get it right.” After all, when we are called to the final concert, we want to be making beautiful music.

Recently, I had a conversation with a good friend of mine that involved discussing the Parable of the Talents. Our topic was a bit wacky, and not relevant to my thoughts today, but the Parable itself is highly relevant. You see, this morning I woke up to a rather desperate email, followed by three phone calls relating to said email. I was asked to edit a piece written by my pastor, for a church publication. I do it all the time, and frankly, I’ve spoiled him because I generally give an immediate turnaround on the things he needs. Ordinarily, I do it with a smile and it’s done. Period.

This morning, however, I had a few things on my mind. I’m struggling with finishing a composition textbook that has a self-imposed deadline that I intend to keep. I have an unfinished novel that is nagging at me. My poetry manuscript is finished and gathering dust, as I can’t decide how I want to move forward with it. A report that I wrote regarding cultural integration at our church has to be presented this Sunday to the council, and I just don’t have enough time to spread around my writing. On top of that, I had my ideas for this blog set up in my mind: I wanted to address the creative process when the muse has clearly gone on vacation.

My day was shot, or at least, the plans I had for my writing. And so I return to the Parable, as I regroup and realize that I need to prioritize again. Too much about me and my angst, and not enough about how I got this gift for writing. My professional writing — the reports, the translations, the curriculum and who-knows-what else that contributes to my income, is certainly a gift from God. I honor that gift by doing my job well. I needed the reminder this morning, that I also honor God by using that talent to glorify Him, and use it to further His ministry, His message, His Word. In short, I had to dig up my little stash and put it to work this morning.

So, I set aside my grumbling and gave my pastor his usual immediate turnaround. I picked up the Bible and read the references he used in his article. You guessed it, the Parable of the Talents. God’s ways aren’t always mysterious; this morning He walked right up to me and rapped on my head to get my attention. Funny thing is, I still got this column out on time.

“For to everyone who has, more shall be given, and he will have an abundance” (Matthew 25:29).