Cistercian Retreat

As I drove through the bluff country of Southwestern Wisconsin en route to the Cistercian monastery, I almost wanted to stop...anywhere...to delay my arrival. I didn't really know what to expect. It seemed I had to go through so much more just to visit than I'd had to do for the other two communities, yet somehow it seemed fitting. Still, it was daunting and I couldn't believe God hadn't slammed this door, preventing this trip.

My route took me in and out of rain clouds as I drove the long hours of Wisconsin until I finally turned off the freeway to head straight south, into the valley and into sunshine.

The monastery is a humble place, marked by a sign at the corner of their lot, and as I pulled up, the bell was ringing for None. I hesitated to ring the bell, at the front entrance, but realized that I didn't even know how long prayer would last, or whether the chapel bell signalled the beginning of prayer or a call to prayer within a certain time.

Sister came to greet me immediately and showed me to my quarters, outside the enclosure but tucked away in a safe place within the confines of the monastery. She handed me a schedule, gave me a tour of the areas I'd be frequenting, and gave an explanation of where to meet Sr. A. the next morning. As it seemed, I was basically on my own. As Sister left to finish prayer, she told me that I could take a walk down the road if I wished for it was a safe area and the weather was nice.

It was a bit unsettling to suddenly be left "alone" just outside the enclosure to the monastery, knowing only the hours of prayer, supper, and when to rise the next day. Sr. A. had left a note that I should not plan to attend Matins until after we'd met once. The Guest Mistress had explained to me that because it was so early (4:00 am) and still dark, if I did attend someone would have to come get me at the enclosure door and lead me through the monastery rather than allow me to walk outside and enter through the public entrance of the chapel.

God Wastes No Time

That first evening, after Vespers as I sat eating my small supper in solitude, I asked God why I was there. Would my questions be answered? Was all of this for nothing? What was I doing on a monastic retreat? What had drawn me here?

I considered the chapel, which in true Cistercian spirit was quite spare and devoid of decoration. There are no stained glass windows. The statues of Joseph and Mary were in the back of the chapel, although a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe graced the wall behind the altar and to the side of the large crucifix, which of course hung front and center.

The altar itself was raised on three steps, and composed of simple stained wood. The Presider's chair was set directly behind the altar against the wall, and the tabernacle rested on a shelf of the same wood in the corner, veiled, and marked in the traditional manner with a red candle. In a chapel so sparse, one's eye is naturally drawn to the shocking red glow of the light signifying the presence of Christ.

I asked myself if I could ever get used to such a spartan chapel? The Cistercian spirituality, even having read about it, seemed somewhat vague to me, although I could sense intuitively that in that simplicity there was great depth.

Yet, I wondered about all my devotions, and the presence of those devotions in other religious orders and communities. I asked God about it, praying as I ate.

"Don't worry about all that."

I felt chastized. I knew that, for some reason, God had drawn me to visit this monastery, and I had to let go of my own attachments in order to allow Him to speak to me. I knew that the Angels and Saints were present with me, whether they were represented by statues, paintings, or icons or not. I came here to be with God, and THAT was what was important.

And on the heels of the gentle chastizement and my brief musings came that still small voice, even more tenderly yet more powerfully: "When have you ever let God just be with you?"

There it was. I was shocked nearly to tears on the spot. I earnestly pondered the question...and the reality.

God...wants to be with....me.

When have I ever let Him...be with ME?

I quickly finished my meal so that I could retire to my cell and spend time considering this gem that had come out of nowhere. I'd never considered God in these terms, exactly. I'd never really looked at the question and so I hadn't understood the implications.

For so long, I've been seeking God. Looking everywhere. Seeking Him out, His will for me, going to the chapel, to Mass, going to Him in prayer.

Of course I know that it is the Holy Spirit that inspires all prayer, for it is fully an action of God, and we do receive Jesus in the Sacraments. That seeking...that's a requirement. That's all part of it. It's action that we need to take.

But, it's possible to be too active. Suddenly I saw it. I'd been TOO active. Trying to take on too great a role in my relationship with Our Lord.

I had gone on the retreat in another act of trying to find God. But He spoke to me and explained as to a child that He didn't bring me there so I could seek Him; He brought me there so that He could be with me.

I realized then that my role was to be passive. Just as receiving the Sacrament of His Body and Blood on the tongue at Holy Communion was a perfectly passive action, so must I imitate that fully for three days. I could not reach out and take God into my hands, but rather, I had to surrender and allow Him to take me into His.

I had to put everything aside. I was away from all my distractions: no work, no dog, no phone, no computer, no music, no devotions. Only the Liturgy of the Hours, personal prayer, lectio divina, and silence, interrupted only by meals and meetings with those with whom my discernment would be discussed.

I had to learn to be still and know that He is God, and had something to offer if only I could, for once, passively receive Him.

It was humbling to realize that for so long I've been doing everything wrong, and yet, God used all of my errors to lead me into the desert where he could speak to me and open my eyes to realize the One Necessary Thing: He, and He alone.

And I was His willing captive.

*

Vocations Personality?

Can I be honest with you all?

Now that I've "come out" about my discernment to religious life (which I still hope you won't get all giddy and comment upon - I hate sappiness), I have to share with you one of the issues that will likely bother me forever and an age.

I have some wonderful friends who are very holy Catholic women. Yet I feel alienated from them; for some reason, I can't identify with them on some level. This was true even when I was in college, for I had friends then who lived holy lives, exuded holy values, and were wonderful people. Even as I saw their joy, and even their purity, I always felt like I couldn't come into that light, and so it repelled me. I wanted to have what they had, but there was something that made me want to run the other way.

There is a local group of good young adult Catholics that, even though they are wonderful and friendly and holy, I've never felt a part of the group. We see each other on occasion, greet each other, and sure, there is friendship, and if there was a need, this group would respond. They are true Catholics. I do love these people, but they aren't the people I call if I am looking for something to do and just in need of friendship.

Some of them have considered the priesthood, and some have or are considering religious life. Some are married, some are single. All of them are faithful, practicing Catholics. This summer I went to a wedding of a person in that group, and found this group of friends, but still felt apart from it in some way.

Earlier this year, I attended a dinner at a restaurant, very informal, for a friend leaving to join a religious community. It was just a few friends, and I met one young woman, a little younger than I, who had discerned religious life. She was kind, she was considerate, and I liked her. She was pretty much like everyone in the group, and of course, we all got along. Yet I saw in her the same things I've seen in other women I know who are considering or who have discerned they are called to religious life. And there is something about them with which I cannot identify.

This is hard to explain. I can't call it a "dislike" or even a "friction". It's more of a realization that, in comparison to these women, I'm really really crusty. Some of it comes from things that I've seen and done in my adult years. Some of that comes from my own sinful life that some of those women have never experienced (pray God preserve them), and some comes from the things I've chosen that have lead to my own cynacism. My general personality is pretty ditzy and hopeful-seeming, but that doesn't always come out; it's a shadow inside of me. An inherent mistrust, something I'm always fighting in the presence of others.

But I have to say this shadow influences me. Whenever I meet women discerning their Call, I wonder at how I could ever live with people like them. They have a peace about them, and a certain purity, even confidance. They are patient and kind. I can't help but wonder how they deal with my temperment which is one moment calm and reflective, the next impassioned, and the next, completely dispassionate. And yet, they are so constant and dispassionate.

I've met seminarians that make me feel the same way. It's not that they do anything wrong; it's just that I see their holiness and their constance in temperment, and see the parallels to the women discerning their Call. There is something about the majority of people who are called by God that gives them a certain peace, a certain temperment, a certain sense of certitude that I can't seem to emulate.

Where they are calm, I a furious. Where they are constant, I am passionate. Where they are joyful I might be gleeful or cynical depending upon the events.

No matter what, I can't seem to identify. And this has been an issue for me. I look at holiness, and see myself as I really am. They reflect my reality, and maybe I just can't face my own shortcomings. Maybe it is that I fear I will NEVER measure up and I'm afraid to try.

Maybe I'm terrified of rejection. We've all experienced that. Let me tell you a secret; I've NEVER had the feeling, in my entire life, that I've fit in. Anywhere. As a child, as a teen, as an adult. I've never felt a part of this world. Yes, I've always had friends, but it seems that I've never found my "niche". Not through family, not through friendship, not in my career.

Even though I think God might be calling me, I can't seem to truly find identification with any of the Sisters or future-Sisters that I've met. They transcend me. I can't understand them, and I have a feeling that they can't understand me.

I'm rough around the edges, and those largely-innocent souls can't or (believe me!) don't want to fathom some of the things I've faced in my life; things that on my end, I need someone to understand on some level. And yet, I've also had some extraordinary things happen to me, things that are solely of God....but I lack the people in my life to help me incorporate these things and understand them in proper context. And so they float, part of me, but not fully accepted, even by me.

So I wonder if, on this earth, I'll ever find my temporary home, or if I'll be the Pilgrim to Pilgrims, always adrift, forever seeking to be a part of something, getting along with everyone...but belonging to no one.

I know I belong to God, and that the Cross defines me. And maybe that's sufficient. Maybe I am supposed to be a hermit. Even with the friends that I have, a part of me wonders if I've been completely rejected by the world in order to, in solitude, offer myself on their behalf and that of the world so that I may remain objective in my suffering and offering.

Or maybe I just need a good Spiritual Director to give me focus, to help me see were God is leading me. I can't seem to find an SD, and indeed, I'm not worthy of one. Who can be? But life goes on, God is present, God is constant, and if it's not hard, then it's not real.

So for now, there is my Vocation. To wonder. To walk. To inquire. To pray. To offer.

Perhaps that is all that is needed. It doesn't matter if I find a niche; it only matters that God is loved, and that I help others love Him. That is the foundation of the spiritual life, and that is the beginning of humility.

Maybe that's all that is needed for now.

*

Holy Family / Holy Trinity

+ JMJ +

Yesterday during my Adoration hour, I was thrilled to see a small Nativity in the front of the chapel. As I prayed my rosary, I concentrated on this trio and their trials, and the significance of family, especially in these dark days.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

At a very young age, I was taught that these three names were a prayer, all by itself, for the names that make up this family carry salvation for us. They are eternal, for our salvation came from the "YES" of Mary and Joseph, and the sacrifice of that very Infant who grew up to be so obedient in his sacrifical love for His Father's will.

I still remember, on hot, stormy nights, as I cowered under my covers, sweating, terrified and shaking, I prayed these very names, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Over and over again. And somehow, I was comforted; in spite of the fierce winds outside, the creaking branches of the trees rubbing against the window, and the rain and hail falling hard against the exterior walls, somehow I was able to sleep again, peacefully, held with Jesus in His Mother's arms. I suppose I spent many a night cuddled with the Infant Jesus, although I didn't understand the power of such a simple prayer.

My knowledge and faith have matured over time, and it leads me to sometimes contemplate not only the meaning of the Holy Family, but also of the Holy Trinity; for isn't the child of the Holy Family the Second Person of the Holy Trinity? Is it any mistake that the Holy Family is a reflection of God, for it is the very love of a man and a woman together that produces a child? For it is not the man or the woman alone that brings life; it is love. It is the productive love of a man and woman that is the reflection of God's image. We cannot, then, understand what "family" means unless we seek to understand the profound truth of the Holy Trinity.

I have heard Catholics and non-Catholics alike tell me that the Trinity can't be understood, is not SUPPOSED to be understood, and so we should not even TRY to understand. To those people, I suggest that they contemplate the Holy Family, and ask Jesus, Mary, and Joseph to reveal God to them. Let the Holy Family teach you about the Trinity; they are a living example, humanized for clearer understanding.

Is it exact? No...the Trinity is so profound and infinite that we as human beings cannot ever fathom the depths of God, and it is true that we are not supposed to understand EVERYTHING. Yet, that is not to say we should not seek to understand; for in that seeking, that is were God reveals Himself to us, little by little, beckoning us through trials and purifications, helping us to understand to the degree that we are able.

I just LOVE the Icon of the Holy Trinity, for it has helped me to understand God a little more, and understand the Saints, for the icon reveals so much. It was after some of the symbolism of the icon was explained to me that I finally understood a concept we had briefly come across in class, but the image solidified this tiny comprehension.

The eye naturally follows in a circle beginning at the feet of the person on the left, travels around and ends on the right. Whether our comprehension follows our eye is a different matter, but as an iconologist explained this to me, let us look at the Trinity in this manner.

We see that the heads of the person in the middle and on the right are inclined towards the one on the left in a show of deference. So clearly, the person on the left is God the Father. Just in case we miss this point, his robes of gold convey his Divinity and Person. God the Father is the First Person of the Trinity. We see that the person in the middle is holding out 2 fingers, to indicate to us that He is Jesus, the Second Person of the Trinity. That means that the Person on the right is the personification of the Holy Spirit.

Now that you can identify all of the Persons of the Holy Trinity, trace the line beginning at God the Father's foot. Follow the line of his leg, and as the line continues, up to His eye. His gaze goes straight across to the gaze of the Holy Spirit across from Him. Follow that downward to the foot of the Holy Spirit.

What do you see? A chalice. The chalice contained within the Trinity, that invites us inward to PARTICIPATION in this very Mystery.

Now look at the chalice in the center of the table. It's obvious that this stands for the Blood of Christ. This is further indicated because Jesus Christ is in the center before the chalice, and it makes sense that the chalice is in the center of the table and not His hand...for it is an offering of His blood.

It is through the blood of Christ that we are ABLE to enter into God's presence.

This icon is proleptic of the beautific vision. Do you want to see Heaven? Pray with this Icon...it reveals all that we need to know in our present condition.

Many of the Saints experienced what are called "Ecstasies" and "Trances" and similar things. People observed that, in prayer, they were able to remain completely still, as they were so ABSORBED with God.

Consider this: At Mass, we pray the Nicene Creed, and some of the words say, "We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son."

"Proceeds" is a key word. Have you ever considered what it meant? Look at it again. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.

When the Saints experienced their ecstasies, it is understood by great theological minds that they had been drawn into the Divine Processions...they had entered into the Holy Trinity.

When we look upon this icon, we, too, are drawn into the Divine Processions, visually, and we come to see that this happens through the sacrificial blood of Jesus Christ, who paid for our passage. It is the Holy Spirit that INVITES us and conveys this understanding, and God the Father who willed us into being, for Him and Him alone. Yet Jesus had to offer of Himself, ALL of Himself, in order that we might experience eternity with God.

The Holy Family is simply proleptic (indicative of a future reality) of what is to come; it is what we should seek to be here on earth. No, not all of us are called into human unions, however, we ARE called into that same reflection of self-giving love, sacrificial love, which proceeds from...the Trinity.

It is a mistake to avoid contemplating the Trinity; it is a mistake to admonish someone that they aren't SUPPOSED to understand such things. Rather, we should be ENCOURAGING each other to seek God, especially through these most sublime mysteries. We are all called to be Saints, even here on Earth. We are all called to participate in the life of Christ...and what is the Life of Christ but the Eternal Kingdom of God, there, held lovingly in the arms of the Holy Trinity?

Thy. Will. Be. Done.

Words of great impact. But have you ever really considered them?

People often finish their prayers, "In Jesus' Name...Amen."

But do they know what THAT means? Scripture cites praying in the name of Jesus, "For whatever you ask me in My name shall be given to you." Scripture cites "faith the size of a mustard seed." So why do prayers seem to go unanswered?

The first thing to understand that prayer is a conversation with God, a dialogue...not a shopping list of demands, which, if made with Jesus' name tacked on, makes the demands magically fall into place. Jesus' name is not a mantra, it's not magic, and if you're praying in His name, you'd better know what you're asking!

Names are important; they have meaning, and we only need to look to scripture itself for this reality. In Genesis, Abram became "Abraham", and in the New Testament, Jesus changed Simon's name to "Peter" (Petros or Kepha). This is significant. Names indicate a particular calling, a particular destiny, and when God offered His name to His people, He was making himself known to them. When we give our names to another, we are making ourselves accessable in some way.

The name of Jesus is more powerful than any name ever spoken, for it contains everything; it containes our entire Redemption. When we pray in the name of Jesus Christ, we should have in mind his suffering, his humility, his will to obey the Father, and his sacrifice on behalf of we worthless sinners. We don't deserve what Jesus did for us, and so when we pray in His name, we must remember the agony of his suffering and death, and the joy of His resurrection. And we must recall that we are undeserving of our salvation. It is a gift freely given.

Who are any of us to make any request of God, much less a DEMAND? Who are we to cheapen the name of Christ in the form of a magic mantra, thinking that only if we attach his name God will obey US?

There is only one proper disposition with which to approach the Almighty, and that is the disposition of humility. Jesus himself gave us the example in his humility and His own prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane: "If it is possible, let this cup pass from me. But your will, not mine, be done." Humility. Obedience. Agonizing love.

So it is, when we pray in the name of Jesus, we must remember to be humble before God and remember the prayer of Jesus himself. That way, when we pray, we will be open to the will of God and allow the Holy Spirit to intervene and request what we are truly asking, for we do not know how to pray as we ought. When we pray with humility, we must understand that God may not desire that our prayer be answered in ways that we expect, for He only wants our good. To provide an answer contrary to our own good would make God unfaithful to himself and his love; God cannot contradict himself.

This leads to the topic of suffering, a topic I've seen often of late. Many people are asking about suffering. Why do we suffer?

Suffering is an evil, and evil is the privation of a good. Suffering is in the world as a consequence of original sin, although that's not to say that it is a consequence of our own sin. We often suffer innocently, clear of any direct wrongdoing.

What do we do when we suffer? We ask questions. Why are we suffering? Why is there suffering? And at the heart of our questions is our true query: "Why ME? Why is this happening to ME?"

And there is God, waiting for our questions, ready to meet us there and show us the meaning of what ails us.

God allows suffering for our own good, for it is only through suffering that we are purified, only through suffering that we ask questions, and only through suffering that we come face to face with the suffering Christ. By his suffering and death on the cross, God himself in his humanity dignified suffering, just as he dignified the flesh in his coming. And there, he meets our questions with his own example, forcing us to look into his eyes, asking us to unite our own sufferings with his anguish. And it is here that we learn of the meaning of redemption.

God is not so concerned with our suffering, but rather, what we do with it. Do we seek Him? Are we willing to be docile to His will, and recognize a greater good may come out of the evil we experience? For God always intends to bring a good out of evil. Are we willing to cooperate with God's plan of our salvation, even though we don't understand?

So when we pray, we must remember the humility of the suffering servant, we must remember to allow God to speak, and we must be willing to be docile to His love for us. It is only through suffering that we will truly learn to pray.

So thank God for all the suffering in your life, no matter how much it hurts, for there you will truly meet God.

Rich in Mercy

The most amazing thing happened yesterday.

I recieved a voice mail from the mother of a girl who need to recieve the Sacraments of First Communion and First Confession.

That's not so amazing. In fact, that's my job, to work with such parents and their children. But this call was different. Her question applied to an older child, one who is beyond the typical age.

I returned her call and after some chatting, I requested to know their background so as to know how we can best answer their needs. She was a bit hesitant, and explained that when her children were babies, she and her family fell away because the babies cried so much during Mass. And so, even as the children grew, she and her family just never returned to Mass, and admittedly, she was ashamed of this.

So I explained our current process for the Sacraments and that I will have to get back to her with an answer as to what to do specifically, but we will work with her. She was fine with that.

But our conversation continued as she explained that she hasn't been going to Communion since she has been away for so long, and doesn't feel that it's right to recieve.

My excitement was growing...this woman TOTALLY GETS IT! I affirmed her feelings; as she's been away, it is NOT proper that she recieve Commuion, and I commended her on doing the right thing. Then I just about fell out of my chair when she asked me, "How do I come back? What is the process I have to follow?"

So there, from my humble position on the floor under my desk, bursting with excitement, fighting to keep a measured tone, I simply affirmed what I'm certain she already knew...she had to go to Confession.

Quietly I said to God, "You're sending me an easy one! She already gets it!"

I did not allow too much of a lapse in our conversation, because I know from experience it's so hard to come back. And she's not coming back for herself; she is coming back for her children, and her return is a resistance to her husband who does not want to come back. So I looked up the hours for Confession at this parish, and explained she can come anonymously and has a right to do so. But I also recommended very strongly that she make an appointment with Father, and then...enter the testimonial.

There was no detail to my testimony; only enough so that she knew I understood her fears. She herself commented on a sense of shame and guilt for having been away so long. I told her I understood, I'd felt the same way...but that we want nothing more than to have her come back into communion with the Church. And that when she went to Confession, that it would be the same...it was that way for me. I emphasized that it SEEMS scary, but it's not, and that all she needed to do was to say it had been awhile, and Father would walk her through it.

I also recommended an examination of conscience. Unfortunately I did not have one immediately linked, but promised to get back to her with one; she accepted this.

One other issue that came up; she is not so familiar with the parish as it's been so long. She hasn't been to Confession in a long time, and was apparently never much of a member, so didn't know where the Confessional was. I gave "directions", but realized they didn't make a lot of sense to someone who doesn't know the geography of the building. Remembering that this was also one of my issues, I offered to meet with her to give her a tour of the church to help her feel more comfortable.

Because I've not spoken of this before, I feel it's proper to mention; one of the things that keeps people away from Confession is the lack of knowledge of WHERE the confessionals are! They aren't marked anymore in many places, they aren't obvious, and sometimes people need a MAP to get there! Some parishes have Confessions regularly, and so it's easier, but still. Even in my home parish, it's not obvious. Other churches have traditional confessionals, others have "Reconciliation rooms", and the lack of consistency is very confusing to people who have been away for a long time.

So I recognized in her the same fear I've had; where to go? What to do? When?

She didn't ask all her questions, and I didn't want to overwhelm her, so I just told her that if she has any questions, to call me, that I'd be happy to show her around, and encouraged her to call Father...because that's what I wish I had done.

What a wonderful lady. You should have heard the absolute relief in her voice! When our conversation began, there had been an edge; she was unsure. She had questions, not just about her children, but about her own status. She wanted to know what to do, but wasn't sure really how to ask. She wanted a map...but didn't know where to look for it. She had a clear sense of what was right and what was wrong...but wasn't certain that this was correct. My goodness, what an example of humility!

And if you could have heard her tone when she spoke of not recieving Communion...there was an ache there. She'll do anything to come Home. She was terrified that I would say something to build her sense of shame, and because I know that feeling, all I did was welcome her. All through our conversation, in the back of my mind, was the story of the Prodigal Son, and John Paul II's Dives in misericordia. All I could do was reach out to her, wanting to bring her and her family home.

I could hear her very desire to be reconciled; she knew she wanted to come Home. And I wanted to offer her that reconciliation; but I couldn't. I don't have the authority. I'm not a priest.

So I did what God created me to do; I reached out to her...and directed her onward, to the one with the authority. I can offer a welcome...but I can't offer her complete absolution.

And in the moment, I realized the power of the authority carried by priests; the ability to truly welcome us all home. I don't want to be a priest, and as a woman, I cannot be a priest. There are good, theological reasons here, and even those reasons came home in a different way today.

As a woman, my goal is not just to be like Christ, but to be like Mary, as my model, for she ALWAYS points to her Son. Today, someone came to me, and I got to point her to Christ, via the one who stands in personal Christi, the priest who was given, via ordination, the power to bind and loose. What a blessing! I never before considered the very Vocation of woman to stand "in persona Mariam". To always point to Jesus.

To all of you priests....do you REALIZE how AWESOME and INCREDIBLE this is, to be able to welcome people home, and by the very authority of Jesus Christ, to WELCOME them back HOME!????

Seriously...if I was a guy, I'd have called the Vocations office this afternoon and asked what I need to do to become a priest.

This is powerful stuff. Having a front row seat to conversion does amazing things.

And as I'm a woman, I'm going to take this to the next level; I'm not going to demand to be a priest; instead, I'm going to work as hard as I can within my state in life to help more men answer the call to the priesthood, and for women, the call to religious life. What woman would settle for being a priest when she could work to answer the need to cultivate a THOUSAND priests? As one person, I can do nothing; but if one day, a thousand priests and religious stand as witnesses at my Judgment and say I had a positive effect on their choosing or reinforcing their Call...well, I choose that. Let me stand "in persona Miriam", and do all within my ability to point people straight to Jesus Christ.

What am I? And Who are YOU?

Thus said St. Francis. I realize that today is the Feast day of St. Benedict, and while his daughter, a Benedictine Sister, inspired my post, it is the words of St. Francis that define it.

During Lent this last spring, while I was undergoing a particular trial in life, I remember that I was having great difficulty in everything, including prayer after Communion. I had so much I wanted to say to God, there was so much I wanted to hear God saying, but there was no communication whatsoever. I came close to despair, and fought that temptation with great difficulty. I felt my faith failing me. Who is God, anyway? What difference does it make?

So I knelt and looked up at the huge crucifix that graces our sanctuary, and I just considered intellectually what I'd been learning in class about Jesus Christ and who he was. What he did. For us. I considered his suffering, and I stared intently at the nails in his hands, the crown of thorns digging into his head, the blood running in rivulets I knew had been there, although they are not depicted on a typical crucifix.

It struck me, suddenly, so hard that I couldn't even breathe for a few moments. Tears threatened to overwhelm me.

My life has no meaning apart from the cross. My life has no definition apart from the suffering of Jesus on my behalf. My own suffering has no meaning without reference to Him.

And I realized it was true, and how deeply I believed it. At that time, my load did not lighten, but it was, rather, illuminated before me, allowing me to see it through the eyes of my Savior.

Tonight I was watching EWTN and something Benedictine Sister Gertrude Gillette, O.S.B said has just brought that illumination of Lent back into my present.

She was discussing relationships; we are who we are in relation to others. We all affect others and are affected by them in life, and this, in turn, defines who we are and who we become. She described how the Benedictines define themselves in relation to Christ - and so should we all.

Just as God revealed to me on that day in Lent, my life has no meaning, I am nothing, without relation to Jesus Christ. It is He who must define me, who must lead me, who must shape me into what I am supposed to become.

So it is for us all.

The the thoughts of others, the attitudes of others, good or bad, enter our souls through our senses. When we read, the words of another person comes through our eyes, our intellect, and enters our souls, perhaps changing us forever. What we hear enters our ears, passes through our minds, and becomes a part of our souls, again, potentially changing us forever. It is relational.

So we have to ask ourselves; what are we reading, not so much to consider the words, but to contemplate what we are alloing to enter into our very souls. We have to think about what we are hearing; what is going on around us, and does it glorify God and dignify us? Or does it sneer at God and trample our human dignity to bits...and how does that affect us and or ability to be Christ-like to others?

We MUST look only to Jesus to define ourselves. No other human being can substitute, and we should be looking to those who exemplify Christ as models. We need to pay attention to what we read or see or hear and take care that it is not poison we are so willingly imbibing into our very souls.

The good Benedictine Sister reminded me today to look to Christ to define my path; to look to Him to understand my trials and my suffering. To look to him to infuse virtue into my soul.

Because apart from Jesus, I am only so much dust and ashes; apart from Christ, there is no reason for me to live. United with Christ, we are instruments of God and his strength becomes ours, and in that relationship, God is glorified and our own dignity as human beings is affirmed.

So I answer these questions from the good St. Francis:

What am I? Only dust, and to dust I will return.

Who are You? My Creator, my Savior, my Father, my God, the lover of my soul, the One who knew me before I was born, who loved me even as he was tortured and suffered death for my sins, the only one who will ever suffice. God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit.

What am I, you ask? Nothing, apart from God.

Pentecost ~ Veni Sancti Spiritus

Veni, Sancte Spiritus,
et emitte caelitus
lucis tuae radium.

Veni, pater pauperum,
veni, dator munerum
veni, lumen cordium.

Consolator optime,
dulcis hospes animae,
dulce refrigerium.

In labore requies,
in aestu temperies
in fletu solatium.

O lux beatissima,
reple cordis intima
tuorum fidelium.

Sine tuo numine,
nihil est in homine,
nihil est innoxium.

Lava quod est sordidum,
riga quod est aridum,
sana quod est saucium.

Flecte quod est rigidum,
fove quod est frigidum,
rege quod est devium.

Da tuis fidelibus,
in te confidentibus,
sacrum septenarium.

Da virtutis meritum,
da salutis exitum,
da perenne gaudium, Amen, Alleluia.

Credit - includes link to English translation

Solitude and Silence

I had things to do tonight. I was either going to go to Mass and Confession, or out with the local Frassati Society, as for the first Wednesday in MONTHS, I haven't had an evening obligation.

I came home with the full intention of going out...but it just seemed wrong. Going to Mass didn't seem right, either, because for some reason, all I wanted was silence and to not have to interact with people.

One of the fruits of my Lent this year was the gift of silence. Because of my class and the need to concentrate, I had everything turned off. I was always like this in college...the sound of the radio, even softly played music, grates on my nerves and distracts me when I am trying to grasp something deep and meaningful. This year, I even put on one of my Gregorian Chant CD's and had to turn it off. As soothing as it is, the sound has no place when I'm trying to understand God.

Although since Easter there has been more "noise" in my house, it is significantly less than before the penitenial season, and I'm finding more and more that, in order to refresh myself, I NEED to have that absolute silence. I'm even finding myself switching it off in my car, choosing to just be quiet, even if my mind is full. It's easier to sort things out when we have fewer distractions.

Tonight, then, I discerned, was one of those nights; the craving for solitude and silence was overwhelming. I've actually been feeling very pensive all day, if excited and nervous and anxious about whether I will be able to move on in the interview process for the job I want.

But I've realized that it's time to just let God work, and he does this on his schedule, not ours. Ironically, I lost my watch this week. I can't find it ANYWHERE and that thing is normall fully fused to my wrist, stays close by while I sleep in case the power goes out, and it remains with me as I walk my dogs in the morning so I know whether I'm on schedule or can maybe take a longer walk. Especially now that it's light out, our morning walks are the best part of the day!

It's much easier to praise God for his creation when the sun is peeking over the horizon in glorious colors, than it is when trudging through ice in pitch blackness before dawn.

So I'm without a watch, and it's like a piece of control has been forcefully taken away from me, and I really feel adrift for not having the ability to know for certain what time it is if I am not near a clock.

I realize this is a blessing, but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier to bear.

It's been a rough week in general; I recieved some wonderful graces the other night as I prepared to go to sleep, and then the night hours proceeded with spiritual attacks all night long. My dreams were vivid but disturbing, although I could not recall them upon waking, there were dark presences in my room and so I prayed and prayed all night long, never knowing how I managed to get to sleep time and time again, only to be awakened once again with my heart in my throat and facing the nearly-visible presences that surrounded me.

Finally after 2 am, I began a Divine Mercy chaplet, and after the first decade realized I was only saying the second half: "...have mercy on us and on the whole world. ....have mercy on us and on the whole world.....have mercy on us and on the whole world." I didn't know if perhaps a patron Saint was praying the first half or if I was just begging for mercy? But after that I fell into the longest interlude of sleep for the night, lasting around an hour and a half.

Then there was spiritual dryness which always seems to follow a period of consolations, even if there is also a period of attack, and in the dryness my faith is tested in the usual way. "Why are you studying something that doesn't exist?"

And then I find my faith in doubt...and somehow it is restored.

It's been an exhausting week. No wonder I need silence. No wonder I need solitude.

I haven't been able to read at all tonight although I have tried. I haven't been able to take what I know and advance my paper any further. But I did just sit in the darkening comfort of my livingroom and contemplate God and acknowledge His presence. It occurred to me that whenever I want to seek God, I go to Adoration, and who doesn't love to sit in the very presence of Jesus? But sometimes He finds it important to make "house calls", and help us to understand that he is knocking, always knocking, and that we have to be willing to sit in silence and just let HIM be present with US. Sometimes he calls us to take action and come to him in his True Presence...sometimes, he knows that we need to remain in solitude, he places us there and asks if he can come in.

So tonight, I let Him in, and although there were no real "words" exchanged, I have a clearer sense of his presence, a clearer understanding of the actions of the Holy Spirit, and a sense of tranquility I have not had for a few weeks. This silence may have been the best prayer I've "said" in ages.

I encourage everyone to take an evening and just be silent, turn everything off, go about whatever activities you must, and when you can, just find a comfortable place and sit...and let the Lord come to visit you.

Our God is a God of Miracles

I believe in miracles because I am both the product and the subject of a miracle.

Shortly after she was married, Mom was told that she would never have children. But, in defiance of the great god Science, she conceived and bore a son, and called him her firstborn. And Heaven rejoiced.

Then, two years later, roughly, she conceived and bore a daughter. Either before or during her gestation, Roe v. Wade passed and so people were embolded to approach her to say unspeakable things. Mom and Dad both suffered from visible genetic defects; Mom was born with only one hand, Dad had Spina Biffeda. So while Mom's belly was swollen with me, she was attacked with great hatred by the culture of death that suggested remorselessly that she murder her child in deference to their preference to live in a world without such imperfection as herself.

I can't imagine the anguish this must have caused my mother. That alone should qualify her as a martyr and speed her canonization.

So then I was born, and Heaven rejoiced. But alas, I was born with a very lazy eye, turned so far inward that as I got older, the doctors told my Mom I would never have depth perception, I would never be able to so much as stack blocks. Mom was devastated, but she opted not to kill me although certain factions of culture would have liked to see such a thing occurr.

I still remember an eye doctor appointment during which I heard the word "surgery". I remember the doctor discussing with my mother how certain muscles would be cut and reattached, the risks (which I did not understand) and the probability for success. The appointment was set for a few days or couple weeks later. It was to be a simple surgery, apparently.

I remember going to Mom's friend's house the day before my scheduled surgery. Mom's friends' name was Barb, and she was about Mom's height, a little older, and she had dark wavy, short hair. She was very friendly and talked a lot. They had a split-level home with blue carpeting and nice furniture. They were nice people and they had a littl girl a bit younger than me and sent us off to play together. That little girl was as blue as the carpet.

Mom explained to me later that she was sick and wasn't going to be in this world for very long. (Many years later I learned her diagnosis; Congenital heart disease. She was a "blue baby"). That little girl actually lived far longer than she was "supposed to."

I remember a certain sense of peace about her, as though she knew she was dying, but it didn't diminish her life. She was just like every other little girl everywhere, but for her blue color and her need to rest a little more often.

While we were there, she and I were called into the livingroom where all the adults were, including some other people I'd never seen before. I seem to remember people exclaiming over us and my lazy eye.

I was a very very shy child, hated to be the center of attention, and did my best to not be noticed. But since my new blue friend was with me, I felt better because they were making much out of her as well. There is solidarity in such things.

The group of adults stood in a circle around us, and I remember Barb praying for healing for us. Other people spoke up, too. I hated being there and I made faces at my new friend to release some tension. She was very used to this so didn't understand my discomfort, and stared back at me soberly. I took a cue from her and stopped, enduring the embarassment of so many people paying attention to me at once.

Shortly after that, and maybe some hugs from our new friends, and promises to return, we left.

I remember holding Mom's hand as we went to the hospital where I was prepped for surgery.

There was a quick pre-op exam, and the doctor stood up and called for someone else. They left the room. They came back, checked again, and told Mom that surgery was not necessary.

I remember walking out with Mom, not understanding my sense of relief, not understanding Mom's wonderment. I was completely oblivious to what had happened.

Mom wasn't.

It was a bona-fide miracle. My condition, which had been monitored since my birth, was not a self-correcting type of condition. I literally needed surgery to turn my eye straight.

But overnight, the condition was corrected to the degree that surgery was not needed.

I actually always thought that Barb and her family and friends were Charismatic Catholics, because sometime around then, Mom had taken us to a Charismatic prayer meeting. I only learned last weekend that they were actually Assembly of God.

I have been pondering this and considering whether this new information affects my perspective in any way.

I've decided it has not. Rather, I am coming to a new understanding of true ecumanism, in fact, the true meaning of it. I do not remember that they were trying to convert us. It seemed there was a great deal of mutual respect for our religious beliefs and theirs, and through their concern for their children, these adults bonded over what was common and addressed God in unity.

I think only a suffering mother can relate to another suffering mother, and those prayers are powerful.

I was healed that day. I found out that about a year later, that other little girl died. I also seem to remember her praying for me with her family.

I am humbled, and I pray that this little girl is in Heaven, praying for me still for I sense that her prayers are powerful.

Do not fear to believe in miracles; they happen every day, to people all over the world.

I am typing these words today not through braille, but through living eyes, a sense of sight Mom was told I would never have. These very words are the result of a miracle.

Thank you, God, for this gift of sight. Thank you, God, for Mom's gift of faith. Thank you, God. for Barb and her family/friend's gifts of faith and prayer, and thank you, God, every day, for the gifts of holy friendship.

The greatest of these is Love

If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal.
2 And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.
3 If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated,
5 it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury,
6 it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.
7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
8 Love never fails. If there are prophecies, they will be brought to nothing; if tongues, they will cease; if knowledge, it will be brought to nothing.
9 For we know partially and we prophesy partially,
10 but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.
11 When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I put aside childish things.
12 At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.
13 So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.



34When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together,
35 and one of them [a scholar of the law] tested him by asking,
36 "Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?"
37 He said to him, "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.
38 This is the greatest and the first commandment.
39 The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.



I just had a revelation. One of the things that was stated tonight by one of our newly-Confirmed Catholics struck a chord, and I just realized that I've gotten the greatest lesson that could ever be learned. I don't think anything will ever top this. It's so simple, and so obvious, and so profound that I am literally in tears.

He didn't become Catholic this year because of what any of us SAID. He didn't make his committment because of anything we DID. Although he had questions that were answered during the course of the year, that's not what convinced him, either.

He became Catholic because we love God, and he could see that. He saw God's love in us, expressed through us, and he knew he was home.

So even when we perhaps spoke incorrectly, or when we didn't know the answer, or said or did the wrong thing, it didn't matter. God's love overcame our weaknesses and shone through.

The MOST IMPORTANT thing any of us can EVER do is to love God...and He will do the rest.

Major Prayer Request

I have a request, everyone - I need prayers in a major way!

This afternoon I sent off a resume and cover letter for a position at a local church. A little over a week ago, my friends contacted me and told me I had to apply for this job. My initial thought was that I was not qualified, for one of the requirements states that the applicant should have an undergrad degree in Theology.

I was grateful that my friends, who attend that parish, thought of me, however I just figured they weren't aware of my lack of that particular piece of paper. Yes, I have a B.A. degree...but not in that subject!

But they persisted, called me last Tuesday and gave me more information, insisting that this is something that I had to pursue. And of course, my friend's enthusiasm was infectious and it seems that I may be qualified, after all. Upon a closer review of the requirements, I can see how many of my current skills are transferable and would be put to use in this position. Even more importantly, my love of the Church, my desire to spread the faith, and my need to work in a positive Christ-centered environment will be met. My friends highly recommended her parish as a good place to work!

Please keep this intention in your prayers. I do truly want this job, given the information I have about it. I don't know how much it pays, but if it's God's will, then it will be enough and He will provide for any shortfalls. I have to trust in that.

If this s not the job for me, then, given all the other things wrapped up in this endeavor, the Holy Spirit has clear designs for me to at least interview for it. Perhaps a certain connection has to be made, or perhaps it will serve as a way to get me out of my rut and see possibilities I have not considered before this.

I have to say, though, that my resume is such a COMPLETE mismatch for the job, at least on the surface, and I fear that some of my background might make me come across as someone I don't happen to be anymore. Yet experience is experience and my history is what it is. I can't change, so I hope that there are redeeming qualities that will positively influence my future.

Only God knows the reasons for this "call" and I submit to His complete will in this. Is it wrong that I hope that His will and my will are a match on this one, though?

God bless you and thank you for your prayers. The ultimate intention in this case is that God's will be done. Amen!