Thank You!

Dear Faithful Readers:

I did feel the power of your prayers over the last several days and I truly, truly enjoyed praying for you. I am astounded by how selfish I am at times and it was so wonderful to have an experience of praying for you without even knowing your names. I once heard that if you want to feel closer to your spouse, you should do thoughtful things for them. It stands to reason that praying for another's needs and peace of mind brings us closer to God. That was my experience.

There were a lot of obstacles to getting to Mass this weekend. I could feel myself being tempted even as I drove into the parking lot. I scooted in and took a seat on the aisle, thinking, even then, that I would slip out after communion. My sweet friend Gina saw me in church sans the family and left her hubby and boys to come sit by me. How faithful and wonderful is our God!

Then of course the readings were perfect for me in such a selfish state of life. "Come to church," said Father Alex, "because someone here needs your support for their prayers. Their arms are tired; they need you to hold them up." Have I thought of that at all these last few months? Of course not. It is the power of community, right? How often I have taken courage from the others gathered when my trials seemed to overwhelming. I have felt nestled in the community, cradled in their arms, when all outside seemed to be crumbling. What if everyone listened to that selfish whisper and stayed home to do their laundry instead?

So, it worked. Thank you so much. I have found my feet beneath me. I am committed to go with or without the company of my family - though I greatly prefer having their company. In truth, it amazes me that anyone reads this blog - since I have no official "followers." I am thankful for you prayer warriors who helped me overcome this temptation. Here is a little gift for you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPFVijGcLtI

The story of the writing of this hymn is a gift in itself. Here's one version of the hubling story. I have not known suffering at all. God bless you.

Why I Need Your Prayers

Sometimes I want to be that Catholic, ya' know? Like my cheerful friend Maryanne who is always counting her blessings and full of Jesus-Love and hugging all of us and looking on the bright side and she never misses Mass and she goes to confession and she's sweet and loveable.

I'm not that Catholic. I'm the convert who still isn't used to having a Sunday obligation although before becoming Catholic I was the kind of person who never missed church. But that was before I had so many excuses -- err, children.

While in former times I had the passion of St Igantius of Antioch . . .

“It is not that I want merely to be called a Christian, but to actually be one. Yes, if I prove to be one, then I can have the name...Come fire, cross, battling with wild beasts, wrenching of bones, mangling of limbs, crushing of my whole body, cruel tortures of the Devil--Only let me get to Jesus Christ!” 

 . . . now I am in a lukewarm phase. I may be the frog being boiled to death slowly and just enjoying the warm bath.

I have been terrible at getting to Mass since my heart thing during Lent. Now I've admitted it out loud. It's not all the kids or my heart or school starting or baseball or that I'm tired or that my parents just arrived from Idaho or that my parish is huge . . . nope. There have been times in my life when I had the best excuses for missing church (and didn't) but not this time; it's spiritual warfare.  I seem to always have an excuse and now I need to stop it. No more excuses.

Even as I write that, I feel my excuse/justification for this weekend bubbling up. Satan does not want me in church. I've been arm wrestling him a few weeks but this morning I read this great quote on this wonderful blog:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44eBbrcUWP_nhVqJrycFD-4stiH8_4TtQT5XconbV4-ebAHo9R0bB-TVJvNOI1py3ziKnfD83sFxwVcixZTzulzZlY0Q1p_fs9d_xjfo_oG_UhtDv1Lf5BL5z6tSMd21Hwmlxp9qSKiA/s1600/st-t-of-avila-quote3.jpg

There it is. "I'm such a failure. My house is a mess. My hubby is unhappy. I don't make enough money. I don't use my education. My kids misbehave. My family is too busy. I don't go to church every week . . . " etc. etc. etc.

So please pray for me. Clearly, I can use your prayers. I could just power-walk out of this slump but collaboration is a good thing. I am part of a community.

For my part, I will devote myself to praying for you, quiet reader. At least 15 sweet hearted people read all of my posts so this week, I am praying for you, sweetheart, with all my heart. I am praying that all your fears be stilled, that your heart be at peace, that the nagging little worries you haven't admitted to anyone (with skin on) be ironed out of your heart and that "peace like a river attendeth your soul." I will pray in thanksgiving for your faithfulness and the gift of your beautiful life in this world. Thank you and blessings.

Musings on Mercy

As I sat down to savor today's readings in my precious post-school-departure moments of quiet, the Casting Crowns song, "If We are the Body," was playing on my stereo.

Today is the story of Jonah up to the point where his shipmates wise up and throw him into sea. Then we have a beautiful Psalm reminding us that God rescues me from the pit of my distress. Finally, the tale of the scholar who wishes for eternal life and finds out it is not about what we know but about what we do. I love that the "hard answer" -- love your neighbor -- leads straight into the convicting "Good Samaritan" parable. These are some of the most familiar stories in the Bible; their message is clear and we know them by heart.

Why, then, is it so hard to truly do this? For me, at least, it's far easier to feed the hungry and shelter the homeless than to show love and mercy (at least consistently) to my children, my co-workers, my teammates, fellow parishioners --my true neighbors, all.

This reminded me of the Casting Crowns song, "Jesus, Friend of Sinners."

Jesus, friend of sinners, we have strayed so far away

We cut down people in your name but the sword was never ours to swing.

Jesus, friend of sinners, the truth's become so hard to see

The world is on their way to You but they're tripping over me;

Always looking around but never looking up, I'm so double minded,

A plank-eyed saint with dirty hands and a heart divided.

I stand convicted. When it comes to those we know best, my judging nature rises like a serpent and is so ready to strike. My fervent prayer is that God will help me tame that wild beast within me. 

I have been shown so much mercy in my life; please let me be merciful. Please let me be a source of healing and hope. Help me, this day to get my mind for once off myself and let me offer the kind word that lifts a heart. Let me be a listener; quiet my mouth and my mind. I know it is up to me, just help me please to remember, to notice, to take a breath, to access my heart. Amen.

Thoughts Politic

I often describe myself as being apolitical. I am not apathetic, I'm just a person who puts my energies elsewhere. Politics confound me and, too easily, I begin to believe full-stop that I cannot make a difference. Today is a new day.

On this day in mid-September, 2013, there is much debate over Syria. I hear people from all sides weighing in and I have been, to put it mildly, a bit cynical about it. I know how much I don't know about war and diplomacy, yet from my -- albeit uninformed -- view, it seems our track record of late hasn't been so good. I worry about the consequences, how long our involvement might extend, the cost, and the loss of life, especially more innocent life. I have been feeling pretty hopeless about it; it seems the classic case of "no right answer.

Today, however, I find hope in the scripture. In the readings for today, there is an unmistakable theme of peace; peace, that is, and action, not passivism.

Beloved:

First of all, I ask that supplications, prayers,

petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone,

for kings and for all in authority,

that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life

in all devotion and dignity. 

This is good and pleasing to God our savior,

who wills everyone to be saved

and to come to knowledge of the truth 

(1 Timothy 2:1-4)

There is not only something I can do, but something I (and every Christian) are compelled to do. We are to pray for our leaders, for kings, for all in authority and more . . . to pray for peace, that all "may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity." 

What if we all did that?

A Hopeful Word on Grace, Regrets and Free Will

Free will is not a curse -- although it sometimes seems that way - it is the conduit for God's grace. We all do stupid things, make poor choices, intentionally hurt others and do things we regret. The regretful mistakes are the hardest; we have no one but ourselves to blame. So we do blame ourselves and if the mistakes are big enough, the regret gets bigger too because we keep coming face to face with the consequences of those regretful actions.

I think this is the biggest obstacle in living a Christian life. Somehow it is easier to accept (with grace) the suffering that is a result of acts of God, like health issues, circumstances beyond our control and even the actions of others. The hardest suffering to accept is the suffering we bring on ourselves. Somehow regretting those things seems more noble; to forgive ourselves seems as if we are saying what we did is okay.

This is simply not the case. It is mistaken thinking. Regret is the roadblock to grace. It is a brick wall that we build between God and God's infinite and unconditional love for us.

Sometimes we get to make restitution to those we have harmed. Sometimes that is simply not the case. Sometimes the people hurt by our actions forgive us; sometimes they don't and may not ever do so. Either way, we know we must confess our sins and ask God to forgive us.

As Catholics, we have an unusual privilege. We get to take our sins to the confessional and receive absolution right then and there; we get the privilege of hearing the voice of the priest telling us out loud that God has forgiven our sins. God has forgiven us, unconditionally, no holds barred. Reconciliation is a full circle.

Therefore, we must now forgive ourselves. We must do this because not doing so is to turn our back on God's grace. That, in itself, is a sin. God is saying to us, "You have a beautiful heart. You made a mistake and you are forgiven."

When we do this hard thing, when we say, "Yes, Lord, I am loved by you, not in spite of my flaws but because of them," we allow God's beautiful work to begin in us. Some of my most humiliating lessons have been the most powerful; once I let go the humiliation, then my heart is open and I am able to be taught. And those lessons are the ones we never forget.. Nouwen says it so well:

I kept running around it large or small circles  always looking for someone or something able to convince me of my Belovedness.

Self rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the "Beloved." Being the Beloved expresses the core truth of our existence.

Henri Nowen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World

 Therefore, we must forgive ourselves. Such  is our work and our duty and that work is what paves the road to grace. We must claim our belovedness and open ourselves to the abundant and overflowing grace available to us.

Conversion - Final Part - "Taking it on Faith"

Within weeks of beginning to attend Catholic mass, that old curiosity rose up in me. I began reading books on the Catholic faith trying to answer my own questions. After some research, it began dawning on me that this was, indeed, the church I'd been looking for. My whole adult life, I'd sought the church that was close to Jesus Christ. The Catholic Church's commitment to the traditions of the church had a plus for a seeker like me; it allowed me a glimpse into the church that existed closer to the time of Jesus. I found myself in regular email and phone exchanges with Father Sam, who eventually convinced me there was no shortcut to Catholicism, and I should join the RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) class starting in the fall.

I enjoyed the class and learned a lot, but a lot of my questions had already been answered. Yet one niggling issue persisted.

A few weeks before the Easter Vigil where our class would join the Church, our RCIA leaders  asked, "Are you ready to commit?" I said to the class that my biggest concern was about transubstantiation.  I was just not sure that I could accept that the bread and wine truly became the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Father Sam was present for that class and he looked at me with a very open expression on his faith and said, "Some things you simply have to take on faith."

I was --of course -- unsatisfied with that answer, but I mulled it over each night as I was trying to sleep. "What does that mean? Why do Catholics always cop out with 'It's a mystery'? Isn't this too important to just "take on faith?"

One morning I woke up to read my daily readings and had an epiphany. There were many, many things in my life I'd taken on faith, countless things. My whole journey to Catholicism had been an act of faith. There was a certain irony in needing to know definitive answers in matters of faith. I decided to stop holding so tightly to my "need to know" and allow God to illuminate the path for me.

That decision changed everything. As it turned out, my annulment papers did not come through in time for me to join the church with my class. At Easter Vigil, I was in the pews as my RCIA classmates were baptized and welcomed into the church. As I watched them receive first Holy Communion, I knew I was ready.

For the next six months, I continued to stand in the congregation and watch my classmates receive the Eucharist as God finished preparing my heart. Finally, on the feast day of my confirmation saint, St. Therese of Li Seux, I called Father Sam.  "Still nothing?," I asked, feeling impatience rise in me. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I was just looking up your number. Your annulment papers came through."

I joined the Church that weekend with a confidence I'd have never had -- but decided I did not need! -- at Easter Vigil.

Today's gospel reading sums up my journey to Catholicism well:

 "And I tell you, ask and you will receive;

seek and you will find;

knock and the door will be opened to you. 

For everyone who asks, receives;

and the one who seeks, finds;

and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. "

(Luke 11:9-10)

I am still a seeker, but now instead of seeking the perfect church, I'm seeking the perfect expression of my faith. I am committed to growing in perfection whilst knowing I'll never achieve it. But I will keep knocking.

Part One of my story
Part Two  - Midnight Mass
Part Three - Crucifix Ephiphany
Part Four - Seeker
Part Five - Signs and Wonders
Part Six - Annulment

A Load of Bricks

Sometimes, the most helpful thing is to know I am normal. I'm normal, you're normal, we're all "normal."

In this case, I'm referring to sin. One morning in Lent, I had an epiphany. I wasn't sleeping well and I woke up around 4:00 AM, so I decided to pray Lauds, the Liturgy of the Hours to be said on rising. As St. Basil the Great said, "It is said in the morning in order that the first stirrings of our mind and will may be consecrated to God and that we may take nothing in hand until we have been gladdened by the thought of God. . . "

On this particular day, I was very gladdened. Somehow in the midst of my readings I came upon an excerpt from the Vatican II documents in which we are reminded that sin is a human problem common to all human beings. The light bulb came on.

So often I beat myself up for my sins. I feel guilty going in to confession saying the same things time and again, "I gossiped. I did not keep my Sunday obligation. I took the Lord's name in vain," etcetera. I think that by now, I should be better than this (read: perfect). It is not so much the nature of my personal sin that bothers me as the repetitiveness of it.  I feel like a little child who has done something wrong (again) and is waiting for her parent to mete out the punishment she knows is coming. Or the cartoon drawing of the man, sweating, head down, straining forward, with a load of bricks tied to his ankles. Finally my turn comes and instead of the chastising I have set myself up for, I have a trans-formative experience. Again. Never once has the priest said to me, "What? Again? What is the matter with you?"

I know well the passage in Romans 3:23: "All have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God." Yet somehow it had not sunk in. I somehow was not getting the "all." The important part of that passage comes next:

They are justified freely by his grace through the redemption in Christ Jesus
whom God set forth as an expiation, through faith, by his blood, to prove his righteousness
because of the forgiveness of sins previously committed,

through the forbearance of God - to prove his righteousness in the present time, that he might be righteous and justify the one who has faith in Jesus.

Whew. It's a breath of fresh air, isn't it? One more time, I am human. Even better, one more time I am forgiven and ready to go back into service. There is a spring in my step as I prepare to follow the advice of Galatians  6:9:

"Let us not grow tired of doing good, for in due time we shall reap our harvest if we do not grow weary."

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