He said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men” Matthew 4:19.
Today is a joyous day for our family as we witness the coming into the Church of my grandson, Tucker David. How blessed we are to have the readings today telling us of the baptizing of the new Christians and the call of Peter, Andrew, James, and John.
In the first reading, Paul admonishes new Christians for arguing over whether they belong to Paul or Peter or to another in baptism (1 Corinthians 1:12). Paul reminds them that Christ cannot be divided (1 Corinthians 1:13), and they belong to Him. Through baptism, we become part of the Church, God’s body here on earth. Though my grandson can’t possibly grasp it’s meaning, today is one of the most special days of his life. Today is the day he will be called by the Lord for the first.
Throughout our lives, we must make the choice, to whom do we belong? Many voices will call us. Many will try to steer us away from the Lord, to cause division among us, to lure us from the path God has planned for us to be “fishers of men.” There will be times in Tucker’s life when he will be tempted to follow those other voices. There will be times when the Lord’s voice will be drowned out by the cacophony of the world, but I will pray for Tucker every day as he grows and learns to become the man God is calling him to be.
“And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” Luke 2:19
Most of the world will go about today wishing everyone a happy New Year, and that’s perfectly okay. Today is the first day of the new year, and everyone is more than welcome to wish others a happy one. However, the Catholic world will be celebrating something far more profound, The Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God.
A Thought-Provoking Visit
Today’s Gospel is Luke’s telling of the Shepherds who went to find the Holy family in Bethlehem. Wouldn’t you think the reading should be from the Annunciation in Luke 1 where the angel tells Mary, “Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son… and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father…and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:31-33)? Instead, we read of the visit of the ones who have just been told, “For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord” (Luke 2:11).
These shepherds were among the lowliest people in the land. They were poor, they were not seen as important or powerful. They were humble workers who spent their days with sheep (and honestly, they probably smelled a lot like the animals’ cave where Mary gave birth). Yet they were set apart by God to receive this news, the news of the birth of the Savior, in the city of David, the one Gabriel said would have the throne of David. These were words of rejoicing for the shepherds because David was not only Israel’s greatest king; he started out as a lowly shepherd.
Food for Thought
Can you imagine what would be going through your mind at this point if you were Mary? She’s just given birth to a baby in a cave where animals stay. She wrapped the baby in swaddling clothes meant for a lamb and laid Him in the manger from which the animals ate. Then these shepherds appeared, asking to see the baby and telling of angels heralding His birth!
All this took place in the town of Bethlehem, a town whose name means House of Bread. Jesus was literally sleeping in a food trough. He was bound in swaddling clothes, which is not what you might think. This was not the Carter’s sleep sack young mothers of today put their babies in to sleep. No, swaddling clothes were meant to wrap the pascal lamb, to keep his feet bound and his body pure for sacrifice. Mary and Jospeh were not farmers and not herders, but their visitors were. To Mary, she was doing what was necessary for her child—keeping Him warm and giving Him a place to sleep. To the shepherds, she was preparing her son for sacrifice and laying Him out as a feast, as was required of the sacrificial lamb.
Something to Think About
Mary listened to the shepherds as they “made known the message that had been told them about this child” (Luke 2:17). As she gazed down at her sleeping child, did she make the connection? Shepherds, the followers of David the great shepherd, are witnessing the beginning of the Greatest Shepherd, yet that shepherd also took on the role of the sheep, the Pascal Lamb.
Mary was a good, Jewish girl. Some theologians even believe she was given to the temple as a child, just as Solomon was. She had already been told that her child would “be great and will be called Son of the Most High” and “of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1: 32, 33), so she knew He was the Messiah, destined for greatness. However, the Jewish people clearly had a different view of the Messiah than the one we have of a man hanging on a cross.
Ponderings of the Heart
Luke tells us that “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). And this wasn’t the only time. At the presentation, Mary was given some heavy news. Simeon foretold, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed” (Luke 2:34-35). We are told that Jospeh was amazed by what he heard, but Mary never said a word.
Later, Jesus was lost and then found teaching the leaders of the temple. Mary said nothing when Jesus asked why they would be looking for Him anywhere but His Father’s house. Instead, “his mother kept all these things in her heart” (Luke 2:51).The pieces are beginning to align for Mary, and she is becoming more aware of God’s plan for her son and for her.
Mary’s Heart and Mind
Mary spent less time talking and more time listening. She spent less time doing what she thought should be done and more time thinking about what God had planned. Pope Francis said, “Mary, the first and most perfect disciple of Jesus, the first and most perfect believer, the model of the pilgrim Church, is the one who opens the way to the Church’s motherhood and constantly sustains her maternal mission to all mankind” (Francis, Homily Of His Holiness Pope Francis On The Solemnity Of Mary, Mother Of God, XLVIIII World Day Of Peace).
Jesus Himself told us how special Mary is when a woman in the crowd said to Him, “Blessed is the womb that bore you,” and Jesus answered, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word and keep it” (Luke 11:27-28). Was Jesus saying His mother was not blessed? No! He was saying the reason she is blessed is not because she carried Jesus in her womb but because she heard His word, the word of His Father, and kept it. She kept it in the way she answered the angel, and she kept it as she reflected on the words of the shepherds, Simeon, and her Son, keeping all things in her heart.
Realizations of the Mind
We are to imitate Mary, the great model of Christianity. We are to learn from her, as the Mother of God, how we are to act and react. After Mary spent years pondering everything in her heart, she knew the will of God and was able to aid in His plan. When Jesus asked her the second most important question of her life, “O, woman, what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come” (John 2:4), Mary knew how to answer. Just as with her first fiat, she didn’t hesitate. She had come to understand her place in Jesus’ life. She was His mother. She would do anything for Him, anything to protect Him, but she understood her mission.
There was no more wine, and Mary wanted Jesus to help. As Jesus looked intently into her eyes, speaking soul to soul, and told her his hour had not yet come, He was really asking, Do you know what this will mean?His expression read, Do you understand what will come next?
Mary’s mind raced back to the words of the angel, the strange visits from shepherds and kings, the words Simeon told her, and the day when Jesus was in His Father’s house. She recalled their many conversations around the dinner table, the times she read to Him from the Torah, and He explained to her what the words meant and how they pointed to Him. With all these things she had kept in her heart and pondered for thirty years, Mary nodded and gave the command that would set their undeterrable course as Mother and Son. This was part of her mission, and she knew her answer would forever alter the road they would travel.
A Mindful Lesson
May we all talk less and ponder more. May we all come to understand our missions and when we need to step back and let Jesus do what He must. May we all model Mary, the Mother of God, who is our Blessed Mother, too.
“She kept truth safe in her mind even better than she kept flesh safe in her womb. Christ is truth, Christ is flesh; Christ as truth was in Mary’s mind, Christ as flesh in Mary’s womb; that which is in the mind is greater than what is carried in the womb” (Augustine, The Works of Saint Augustine, A Translation for the 21st Century, Sermons III On the New Testament).
“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” Matthew 7:21.
We’ve just begun the season of Advent. It’s a time of preparation but also a time of healing, sharing, and reaching out to others. There is so much we can do, in ways both large and small, to have an impact on the lives of others. Take your children to drop off gifts at a homeless shelter or a prison. Support your local organizations that help those in need (look for a St. Vincent de Paul Society near you and ask how you can help). Bake cookies for the shut-in across the street, and spend time with her when you deliver them. Call an old friend or family member you haven’t seen or spoken to in a while. Let go of old grudges, and forgive. Open your heart to the relatives you’d rather not spend time with or those far away. Ask them how they are, and let them know you care.
It’s not enough to sing songs of goodwill and peace on earth if we aren’t living lives of goodwill and peace. In fact, it’s kind of like the two missing verses from today’s Gospel.
For my entire life, I’ve been a fan of superheroes, in particular, Super-Man, Wonder Woman, and Spiderman. I’m sure many of us have heard the line often attributed to Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben, “With great power comes great responsibility.” It’s a line I’ve often pondered, and I was surprised to learn that it has its roots in the Gospel of Luke and in the Gospel from Matthew.
The servant, who doesn’t take his master’s coin and multiply it, is chastised by the king. The man was given something and expected to increase its value, to make it useful to the king, to expand the king’s power and his kingdom. Instead, he kept it, stored it away, and gave it back to his master without any added value.
“Live the present moment, filling it to the brim with love” (Cardinal Francis Xavier Nguyên Van Thuân, Five Loaves and Two Fish).
In the midst of ongoing world crises — wars in Ukraine and Gaza, economic uncertainty, and the loss of our Pope — there remains the desire to celebrate, to hope, to live, even as we mourn the Pope’s death.
As we Catholics ponder the future and await with joyful hope during this time of Sede Vacante, we celebrate the life of a good man who has gone home to the Lord, we have hope for the future, and we live each day awaiting news of our next shepherd.
Over the past three weeks, there has been a great outpouring of love for our Holy Father on Earth. He emulated our Lord as a man of mercy and compassion (“As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them,” Mark 6:34). He understood Jesus’ call for mercy (“A bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just,” March 17, 2013 First Angelus of Pope Francis). He was a man of great love for all people (“You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” Mark 12:31).
Pope Francis, a man who lived like Jesus lived, taught what Jesus taught, and loved like Jesus loved, was beloved and adored the world over because he knew the meaning of life. What did he know that we should know? How can we discover the meaning of life?
“Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” ~ John 20:29
When Jesus came to fulfill the Old Testament and establish His Kingdom, he introduced a new list of commandments, His “rules” for living a happy, Christian life. These rules, which begin the Sermon on the Mount, include the phrase, “Blessed are the/they…” Though the eight Beatitudes we know of and refer to are those listed in Matthew 5:3-11, these are not the only Beatitudes which Christ left us.
Who are the Ones Who See?
I once heard that the first Beatitude was said at the Visitation when Elizabeth extolls Mary, “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled” (Luke 1:45). I think this is the most beautiful Beatitude because it tells us the one thing that matters most: that we trust and believe in what the Lord promises.
In Luke, we hear a woman cry out from the crowd, “Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed” (Luke 11:27), to which Jesus replies, “Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it” (Luke 11:38). While some have said this means Mary is unimportant, that even Jesus dismisses her being blessed, the Lord’s statement confirms just the opposite. With almost identical words to Elizabeth’s, Jesus tells us that His mother is blessed because she heard the Word of God and observed it.
Stand at the crossroads and look;ask for the ancient paths,ask where the good way is, and walk in it,and you will find rest for your souls. (Jeremiah 6:16)
In 2016, something amazing happened to me. I was able to get two spots on the Catholic Channel’s lottery for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I could hardly believe this dream might come true. My husband was reluctant at first, but one look at the itinerary and he was all in. “These are all real places that still exist?” he asked. My assurance they are was all he needed.
A Life-Changing Pilgrimage
I always tell people that a pilgrimage, particularly to the Holy Land, is life-changing. For me, this journey facilitated multiple changes. From meeting a group of women who would become my closest friends, to discovering more about myself and God’s plan for me, to going from a writer to speaker and pilgrimage leader myself were things I never imagined would happen. Since that trip, I have gone on pilgrimage to the Holy Land once more as a pilgrim and once as a leader (my second and third chances at leading have been on hold since the October 6 massacre). I have organized and led two pilgrimages on El Camino (one for myself and two friends and one for thirty-three pilgrims), one pilgrimage to Italy, and several “local” pilgrimages. Next month, I’m taking 43 pilgrims to France!
Ever since that first pilgrimage, I have felt like a different person. No that’s not quite right. I have become a different person, someone whose life has been turned in the right direction. Where God always had a place in my life — one that was dictated by my own needs and schedule — He now occupies every space of my life, and I’m constantly turning to Him to make decisions about everything from what I eat to what I write.
“Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” (Luke 9:43)
I recently led a retreat for a parish in Arkansas on the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary. One of those mysteries is today’s Gospel, a story with which I’m sure most of us are familiar. Jesus takes His chosen three Apostles — Peter, James, and John — up to the top of Mount Tabor to pray.
A Vision of Heaven
As the three Apostles look on, Jesus is transfigured before their eyes, “his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white.” The three men saw Jesus in all His glory, the way He is in Heaven, the way we hope will be our reward in the afterlife. The glory of Jesus and the understanding that this is a glimpse into the awesomeness of eternal life were not lost on Peter. He felt the importance of this moment.
And it gets even better. While in His glory, Jesus is joined by Moses and Elijah “who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.” Overwhelmed by what he is seeing and hearing, Peter naturally wants to cling to this moment. He wants to build tents there on that spot so they can stay there with Jesus forever.
Mountaintop Moments
As I told the ladies at the retreat, Peter was experiencing a true Mountaintop Moment. Often these moments are fleeting or come only after a beautiful spiritual experience. When we attend a meaningful retreat or go on pilgrimage, we typically feel the same as Peter. We are so wrapped up in the divine, influenced by the Holy Spirit, and full of zeal, we don’t want that time to end. Weddings, births, and other momentous occasions also lend themselves to this feeling.
Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two. (Mark 6:7)
Two by two. Not alone. Not in a group. Jesus sent out the twelve two by two.
Jesus could have sent the disciples out on their own. After all, there would come a time when they would each go their own way — James to Spain, Thomas to present-day Iran, Andrew to Greece, John to Asia, Matthew to Africa, and so on. He could have told them that this first sending out was meant to prepare them for what was to come. He could have told them that there are times in life when they would feel and be alone, and they would have nobody to turn to or consult or just talk to.
Likewise, He could have sent them in two groups of six or three groups of four. There’s safety in numbers. Plus, groups of young men traveling around the globe attracting audiences have always been popular, right?
“When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord” ~ Luke 2:22
On the day my first daughter was born, twenty-one people visited us in the hospital. A dozen more came the next day. On the third day, when we arrived home, a blizzard was settling in, and I was ready to settle, too. My mother said, “Thank Heaven we’re having a blizzard so that nobody can stop by.” Just then, the doorbell rang!
In the Jewish faith, the mother and newborn baby were required to stay in seclusion for forty days, considered unclean after the birth. Can you imagine? On the one hand, what bliss! On the other, imagine no contact with anyone, no leaving the house, and no going to worship the Lord. This was the case when Mary arrived at the temple.
“The two disciples heard what he said and followed Jesus. Jesus turned and saw them following him and said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’” John 1:38
My favorite hymn when I was a child was, Here I Am, Lord. I loved the rhythm and the simple prose, and I thought the sentiment behind the words was lovely even if I didn’t quite understand their importance. As an adult, the song continues to be my favorite hymn, and it brings tears to my eyes every single time I hear it. Though I still love the music and the words, it’s the deeper meaning that gets to me now. Jesus asks us to serve, and we need to respond like Samuel and the Apostles, ready to answer and do His will.
Awaiting God’s Call
This month, we celebrate the feast day of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, our first American-born saint. Two of my three daughters graduated from Mount St. Mary’s in Emmitsburg, Maryland. Emmitsburg was the home and final resting place of Mother Seton. Mother Seton to Emmitsburg moved in 1809, where she founded the Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph’s, the first community for religious women established in the United States. It was in Emmitsburg where she also began St. Joseph’s Academy and Free School, the beginning of Catholic education in the United States.
Before becoming a nun, Elizabeth was a wife and mother. She was not Catholic but was very religious. While nursing her sick husband in Italy, she learned about Catholicism from friends who lived there and was intrigued by the Church and its sacred traditions. The more she learned and attended Mass, the more she felt called to become Catholic.
“On this mountain the LORD of hosts will provide for all peoples A feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.” ~ Isaiah 25:6
In today’s first reading, God promises Isaiah that everyone in Heaven will be provided with rich foods and choice wines. What a promise! Everyone can share the Lord’s rich food and choice wine. How?
God’s Answer
Matthew, in his Gospel, provides the answer. Jesus told his disciples, “My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat” (Matthew 15:32). Jesus’ followers had only seven loaves of bread and two fish. Yet, somehow, they managed to satisfy the great crowd completely and still collect seven baskets of leftovers.
God’s Abundance
I’ve heard it said that this story, and the feedings in the other Gospels, are not miracles but examples of the power of sharing, to which I say nonsense! Nowhere does either passage say someone shared, so everyone shared. In Mark’s account, a boy shares, but not anyone else.
“Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction” ~ Mark 5:34
Touching the Hem of His Robe
I have very vivid memories of being a nine-year-old child standing near a barrier at Andrews Air Force Base when Pope John Paul II landed in my home state of Maryland. It was 1979, and he was concluding his first trip to the United States with a visit to the White House and the celebration of Mass on the National Mall. I recall that His Holiness landed in the evening. I was with my mother and our good friends and neighbors, whose husband/father was the pilot of Air Force One, and they had taken us as their guests to witness this historic moment.
As the Pope walked across the tarmac, I had the sudden desire to touch him, at the very least, to touch the hem of his robe, much like the hemorrhaging woman’s desire to touch the hem of Jesus’s cloak. I remember squatting down and reaching beneath the barrier, stretching my arm across the pavement, and touching the soft white cloth that floated by. When I stood, I could not see my mother or our friends. I looked and looked, trying to be strong and brave, and I was, until another mother saw me and asked if I was lost. I burst into tears, and she stood with me, aside from the crowd, and waited for my mother to find me.
“Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation.” ~ Mark 16:15
Priests, Prophets, and Kings
Did you know that you have been called to be a prophet, a priest, and a king?
In his Letter to the Ephesians, St. Paul wrote about baptism and how through baptism, we received graces; and with those graces, gifts; and with those gifts, the appointments of “some should be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, for the equipment of the saints, for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ” (Ephesians 11-12). St. Paul understood, as did the early Christians that our lives are meant for a deeper purpose—to bring others to God.
In His Great Commission before His Ascension into Heaven, Jesus told the Apostles in Acts, “John baptized with water, but before many days you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit” and “you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samar′ia and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:5,8).
“The two disciples heard him say this and they followed Jesus. Jesus turned, and saw them following, and said to them, ‘What do you seek?’” ~ John 1:37-38a
My favorite hymn as a child was, Here I Am, Lord. I loved the rhythm and the simple prose, and I thought the sentiment behind the words was lovely, even if I didn’t quite understand their importance. As an adult, the song continues to be my favorite hymn, bringing tears to my eyes every time I hear it. Though I still love the music and the words, the more profound meaning gets to me now. Jesus asks us to serve, and we need to respond like Samuel and the Apostles, ready to answer and do His will.
Awaiting God’s Call
In our first reading from 1 Samuel 3, we hear the beautiful story of God’s call to Samuel. This young, future judge of Israel lived his entire life apart from his parents in the temple with Eli, the priest, awaiting God’s call. It was not Samuel’s decision to be left with Eli. Instead, Samuel was left to fulfill a promise made by Hannah to God before Samuel was even conceived in her womb. When God called Samuel, then a grown man, Samuel could have turned his back on God and chosen his own path in life. He could have ignored God’s voice or allowed himself to be distracted by his desire to sleep. Instead, he awoke, listened, and upon learning it was God who called to him, offered the humble answer, “Speak, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:10).
“Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).
Mary’s fiat, her yes, changed her life and changed the world. What can we do with our little lives if we say yes to the Lord?
In Mary’s ShoesImagine yourself a young Jewish girl, around the age of fourteen, recently betrothed to a man from your village. Your entire life is laid out before you—marriage, a family, a quiet life in the small, inconsequential town of Nazareth, the anticipation of grandchildren, growing old with your husband, and living humbly until the hour of your death. Your heart is full of dreams and promises of a stable future.
I’m so excited to be a contributor to the Women in the New Evangelization blog beginning today!
And Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the people of Israel, ‘Come near before the Lord, for he has heard your murmurings’.” (Exodus 16:9).
Today, let us draw near to the Lord and place our trust in Him so He can give us heavenly food. He is planting seeds in our lives that will bear much fruit if we listen for Him.
Rocky Ground
The Israelites hit a patch of rocky ground as they neared Sinai. They trusted and followed Moses and his God, but when things got hard, they murmured and yearned for the days they were slaves in Egypt. How often have I done this? I know the Lord is there and nourishes me with “the bread which the Lord has given you to eat” (Exodus 16:15); but I still murmur when things get hard, when I am tired, hungry, or grow weary. I yearn for simpler times, a more leisurely life without stress, worry, or pain.
Aaron told the children of Israel, “Come near before the Lord, for He has heard your murmurings” (Exodus 16:9). Unless we draw near to the Lord, He cannot provide us heavenly food. When we walk a path heading away from God, plant our roots in too little soil to grow in the Spirit, or live among thorns that block God from our lives, we find ourselves in the desert with the Israelites—wandering and hungry for heavenly food.
It was a warmer than typical day as we entered the gate. We meandered through the busy city, carefully trodding on uneven stones, snaking our way to the start of our journey. Our walk was slow and somber as we carried our heavy load while wiping our tears. We encountered dozens, perhaps hundreds of people along the way. Some mocked us, many took pictures or shot video as we passed. Some bowed their heads and prayed while others pushed their way past, looking upon us with disgust.
We were the outcasts, the interlopers, the reminders of things some wish to forget. But we were also symbols of what happened and what was to come. But we were also hope and faith to those who needed someone to show them The Way. We carried our cross with humility and love. Our cross was carried for Him, to show Him our love, to honor the One who carried His cross for us.
“It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers.” – James Thurber
Isn’t that a great quote?
As a reader and a writer, I understand the need to have questions answered.
So Many Questions, so Few Answers!
We all begin reading a book with many questions. What is this about? Who are the characters? What will happen to them? What obstacles will they face and overcome? How will this end? At the end of the book, if it’s a book worth reading, those questions are all answered to a satisfying degree. Unless the story ends on a cliffhanger to be picked up in the next book, we are unsatisfied if we don’t have answers. We want and need more. We need all the answers.
Life is a journey on which we grow, learn, discover, and become. We begin that journey with many questions. Who am I? What is my purpose? What should I do? Where should I go? Where will I end up? The questions are large, small, simple, and complex; and often, the answers we discover lead to more questions. We long for answers and tidy endings, but life is not a book!
Much of the following blog was written in 2020, but it could have been written this week. The message resonates now with just as much meaning as back then.
It was an ordinary Monday in an extraordinary year when a tree beside our house was struck by lightning. It was scary. The entire house shook from the sound akin to a sonic boom, and a red-orange light filled every room, like a giant fireball hurled through the windows. We knew lightning had struck nearby, but we didn’t know where. It was raining too hard to go outside and look around, and everything in the house seemed okay, so we surmised, perhaps it wasn’t as close as we thought.
That evening, we all sat down together to watch a holiday special on TV, and we had no signal. The Tivo was working. It told us what channel was on and what program we should be seeing on the screen, but all we saw was a message that there was no channel available. We checked the other televisions in the house and found that we had no stations on any of them. Ken went outside with a flashlight and found that the antenna was still there, so he checked the booster in the garage where the signal comes into the house. The booster was dead. We were not at all prepared for lightning to strike.
If there’s anything I cherish as much as I love and cherish spending time with my family, it’s spending time with friends. I think it’s something that people today don’t appreciate enough. When one can brag about having close to 1000 friends on Facebook, and the number of followers on Instagram is more important to them than the number of minutes spent face-to-face with live people, then there’s something very wrong with our world.
Our family has always had a fascination with sea glass. Though we spend more time in the mountains, and I’ve never been a beach person, we love walking along the shoreline, searching for brightly colored pieces of time. It’s a peaceful, calming act in a world of noise and chaos. That was how we spent the last day of our vacation, and it was the perfect ending to an adventurous week!
My sister-in-law makes amazing jewelry, pictures, and other items from sea glass, so we’re always on the hunt for unique pieces and colors. Not to mention, the girls and I love sea glass earrings and necklaces!
Besides the beauty of the glass and serenity of the hunt for them, I think there are some lessons to be learned from these small fragments of glass that would serve us all well.
“But God said to him, ‘You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’ Thus will it be for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God”(Luke 12:21).
We heard these words in Sunday’s Gospel just before leaving on our summer vacation. Vacations are sacred to us, treasures to be kept in our hearts and cherished. They aren’t tangible, and they can’t be stored physically, but they are precious gifts that we always look forward to and look back upon.
Many years ago, Ken and I made the decision to never skip a family vacation. He has always worked high pressure jobs and rarely has the ability to just take a day off or check out early. Before he had his present job, he traveled so much, he was hardly home for the equivalent of an entire week per month. For his own mental health, we knew that we had to make vacations one of the top priorities in our marriage.
When we lead marriage prep classes for our diocese, we do an exercise in which the couples have to list their individual priorities for their marriage and then share and discuss with their fiancés what their couple priorities for the marriage are. Many of these couples include travel as a priority. We always encourage them to keep that as a priority, especially when they have families, because those times are a treasure indeed.
I’ve written before about how important vacations are in a marriage and family even if it’s just a trip to some place in your home town. But they are more than just jaunts away from home or time off from work.
Next fall, 2023, a few friends and I are planning to walk El Camino de Santiago in Spain. For those who may be unfamiliar with this, El Camino de Santiago, The Way of St. James, is a network of ancient routes taken by pilgrims wishing to make the same journey that St. James made while spreading Christianity (known in the first century as The Way) in Spain. The routes all end at the tomb of St. James in Santiago de Compostela, The City of St. James. Hundreds of thousands of people make the pilgrimage every year on routes that take between 8 and 35 days.
We’re not doing the 35 day route only because it’s a long time to be away, but we felt we wanted more than 8 days to experience this pilgrimage. We’ve decided on 14 days, and we will be doing the pilgrimage the way it’s supposed to be done–no tourist agency to plan our every step, no porter to take our bags from one stop to the next, no fancy hotels or five star restaurants. Just us, our lightly packed backpacks, walking sticks, and a modest hotel every few days. We will stay in local BnBs owned by families needing the income to survive. For this trip, there will be four of us, all learning our way along The Way. In 2024, I will be taking a large group of pilgrims (and doing things the easier way with professional help, porters, etc). This time, though, the pilgrimage is for me.
This week, as Ken and I explore the world outside our cabin in the San Juan Rang of the Colorado Rockies, I begin my preparation for The Way.
As many of you know, last week I spent five days with my tribe, the women who inspire me, encourage me, and pray for me. It was an amazing trip filled with adventures. One of our outings was to the Franklin Park Conservatory which displays a permanent collection of the famed Chihuly glass. The glasswork can be seen throughout the conservatory’s gardens and exhibits and are meant to “highlight the connection between art and nature.” Each piece of glass was a masterpiece in and of itself, and the displays throughout the butterfly garden and other botanical exhibits were breathtaking. After seeing the magnificent works of art, we knew we could not miss the demonstration of how the works were made.
As we sat in the outside pavilion, warmed on that chilly day by the 1800° oven, we were enthralled by the artisan, by his love of this beautiful form of art, and by the transformation of each piece from a glob of clear, melted glass dipped in crushed, colored glass to a beautiful work of art. Over the course of about 30 minutes, the glasswork was put into the oven at least a dozen times, each time being heated and then molded, changing and becoming that which it was intended to be. Even the color of the glass–clear when first taken from the oven, red when heated, and then the color of the crushed glass as it cooled–symbolized the transformation from indistinguishable glob to bowl or cup or vase or magnificent piece of art. Once the piece was shaped as desired by the artisan, it would be cooled overnight in a kiln at 900°, thus finishing the process.
I spent this past weekend on a girls’ trip with my besties. We try to get together twice a year, and even a worldwide virus couldn’t stop us from seeing each other last year or the year before.
We played a few games on Friday night that Susan put together to see how much we’d gotten to know each other over the past six years that we’ve been as close as sisters. We learned so much about one another that we never knew! In fact, it was a whole weekend of learning with trips to the Air Force Museum, the zoo, a butterfly garden, a glass-blowing demonstration, and more. Of all that we learned, the thing that keeps coming to mind is that I learned what it means to be a good host.
This past weekend, Ken and I went out to dinner with another couple. The four of us try very hard to get together about once a month, which isn’t easy with the busy lives we lead, but it’s crucial that we make the effort. We’ve known John and Alix for almost twenty years. Alix and I have been in the same Bible study group for nearly that long. Our kids went to the same school from first grade through high school. Ken and John went on a mission trip to Guatemala together. Our friendship is based on all these things, but what really holds it together is our faith. I have learned so much about prayer, faith, and healing from these wonderful people.
My long-time readers probably know that Ken was in politics for a very long time, almost half our marriage. His political career came to an end during a very tumultuous time in our lives. It was difficult for all of us. Imagine that the person you love most in the world is made into a scapegoat, has his name and reputation smeared by people he trusted, and is dragged through the mud for no other reason than political motivations. It was a heart-breaking time for me, to see my husband’s face on the news and read his name in the paper and know that everything being said was a lie. Rather than being relieved when the state ethics board cleared him 100%, I was angry because our lives had been turned upside down and because the media never once acknowledged his innocence other than a teeny, tiny one paragraph blip hidden at the bottom of an inner page in the local paper. I asked my husband over and over again how he was dealing with all this, how he was coping with the loss of trust and friendship he had, how he showed no anger toward the people who did this to hm, and his response to me was always the same. He simply said, “I pray for them.”
Now, if that doesn’t stop you in your tracks and make you look inward, nothing will.
“But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
Matthew 5:44
But there’s more to those four little words than I could comprehend at the time. So much more.
About seven or eight months ago, I made two major changes to my personal health and fitness. I started seeing a chiropractor to help alleviate my arthritis pain, and I began an anti-inflammatory diet. What a difference I am seeing in my life as a result of these two things! I go for days, weeks, even months with zero arthritis pain (barometric pressure changes still get me every time), and my gut health is better than ever. These two changes have led to other changes in my lifestyle, and Lent is a great time to usher in even more.
For many years, I have done daily exercise. I visited the YMCA every morning for close to ten years before the pandemic struck and I discovered a whole world of exercise classes right on YouTube! Now, exercise fits into my schedule, and the type of class I choose is reflective of my needs that day. After trying lots of different things, I’ve settled on a Pilates and yoga mix each morning and a cardio workout every evening. Between the anti-inflammatory foods and the two exercise routines, I am actually losing weight for the first time in years without feeling like I’m missing out or killing myself doing it. This Lent, I decided to take some of these practices as well as my prayer life to the next level.
We are now in the month of February. It’s the month of love. It’s the month when lovers express their feelings for each other and typically the month when we begin Lent, the greatest season of love in the Church. It can be a cold month, when this part of the world can be blanketed in snow, when much of nature is dormant or dead, and when the sun is often obscured by clouds or rain or snow. I think it’s also a month of hope, a month of looking forward to spring, the month when vacations and summer camps are planned and colleges are chosen. It’s a month to love and be loved. American journalist Linda Ellerbee once said, “In the coldest February, as in every other month in every other year, the best thing to hold on to in this world is each other.” The power of love will get us through the coldest of times. It is the greatest force in the universe.
On those winter nights when snow falls silently in a barren world, it’s easy to desire nothing more than to crawl into a hole and retreat from everyone. I say, like Ellerbee observed, that it is at those times, when we feel the coldest, that we should reach out to others, pull them to us, and love them fiercely. It is the power of love which creates the warmth we so desperately need, and I don’t mean just on that one day of year that comes in the middle of this month.
We live in a world that seems to believe that love is nothing more than the sugary-sweet outcome of a Hallmark movie, but true love is so much more than that! True love is the food of the soul, the opening of the mind, and the completeness of the body. It is a powerful thing indeed.
Ken and I got engaged in February–February 13, 1993. We had decided that we wanted to have formal pictures done, so we got dressed up for a photo shoot and dinner afterward. While we’d talked about marriage, I didn’t know when, where, or how our actual engagement would take place. I was truly surprised when, between the photos and dinner, Ken got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. We were so young then, barely adults, and hardly knew what we were pledging to each other when he presented and I accepted the ring I still wear today. It has not always been easy, and I’ve gone to bed angry more than once (don’t lecture me–that’s what I need to do to get myself past whatever has upset me). We’ve had our share of fights, but we’ve had so many more joys. After twenty-eight years of marriage, I wouldn’t change a minute of it. That’s the power of love.
I recently came across an article in Scientific American that really intrigued me. As we (fingers crossed and prayers said) go into the diminishing phase of Covid with its strange ailments, long-term effects–and trust me, I know about these–its indiscriminate taking of life, closing of churches, separating of loved ones, and alienation of those who most need socialization, I have become keenly aware of the rise in mental health issues and disorders, including in my own inner circle. It seems that the world has fallen into a deep pit of despair, and our lives have become meaningless and out of focus. We have lost the spiritual connection that is necessary to thrive.
Enter, David Rosmarin, an associate professor at Harvard Medical School and director of the McLean Hospital Spirituality & Mental Health Program. In his study of psychiatric patients throughout the pandemic, he found that prayer increased significantly in March of 2020 and continued to rise throughout the year despite the closing of houses of worship. He found this to be an extremely important find since “Spirituality has historically been dismissed by psychiatrists.” He noted that, in 2020, American mental health sank to the lowest point in recorded history with diagnoses of mental disorders increasing by 50%. The use of alcohol and drugs rose as did contemplation of suicide. YET the mental health of those patients who attended religious services, in-person or online, actually improved significantly!
Rosmarin goes on to say that studies show that nearly 60% of psychiatric patients have a desire to discuss spirituality with their psychiatrist yet are rarely, if ever, given the opportunity to do so. He says we can blame it on Freud and his characterization of religion as a mass-delusion. We see this trend in suggestions by both the American Psychological Association’s and Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s recommendations for coping with the pandemic. The only near-mention of religion is the CDC’s recommendation to “connect with your community- or faith-based organizations.” The author goes on to say, “we ignore potential spiritual solutions to our mental health crisis, even when our well-being is worse than ever before.”
According to this study and another, “a belief in God is associated with significantly better treatment outcomes for acute psychiatric patients. And other laboratories have shown a connection between religious belief and the thickness of the brain’s cortex, which may help protect against depression.” He also concluded that “many nonreligious people still seek spirituality, especially in times of distress.”
For the past few months, I’ve been leading a study of the Wisdom Literature–the books of Wisdom, Sirach, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Job, and the letter of James along with passages from other books sprinkled in. It’s funny how often the themes of these studies, while I’m in the midst of them, appear throughout all parts of my life. It’s a constant barrage of messages reminding me what I’m supposed to be taking from these lessons and discussions.
A couple weeks ago, I read to the women this beautiful passage from St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians:
Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! Your kindness should be known to all. The Lord is near.Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you.
Philippians 4:4-9
The following week, I stepped in to lector at Mass when the lector was unable to be there. Guess what the reading was…
What exactly is that? How can we achieve it? How can we maintain it? Is is even possible to feel peace during this hectic season?
How can we have peace of mind when there are gifts to buy, groceries to pick up, houses to clean, decorations to be put up, parties to be thrown, presents to wrap, families to visit, and so many church services to attend?
Hallmark paints the picture of the perfect Christmas, complete with sugar cookies that are made, rolled, baked, and decorated in an hour’s time; the fullest and tallest Christmas tree in the lot which fits perfectly in the house and is decorated in minutes (with no fumbling with blown-out strands of lights); and people singing “Oh, Christmas Tree” on every corner (seriously, someone please tell them that this is nobody’s favorite song). In reality, sugar cookies take hours (sometimes days) to complete from beginning to end; trees often look more like one chosen by Charlie Brown (don’t get me started on the lights); and we often overlook the songs that truly tell of the meaning of Christmas.
“Sleep in Heavenly peace” may be sung, but is it taken to heart? While the Babe in the manger sleeps in peace, what about us? Are our days “calm and bright”or chaotic and dark?
Lately, I see so many people, particularly young people, desperately trying to figure out who they are.
Most people can’t answer the simple question, who are you?
When asked, the majority of people would probably respond, I am so-and-so’s mother, daughter, son, cousin, husband, etc. OR they would respond, I’m a doctor or a teacher or an accountant… The list goes on. But do those answers truly answer the question? At the core of your being, are you someone’s wife, mother, teacher, or nurse?
WHO ARE YOU REALLY?
It seems that people of all ages are still trying to find the answer…
It’s been almost six years now since I first walked on the holy ground of Israel where I met the people who would come to be major players in my game of life. I still can’t believe the many gifts and blessings I received on that pilgrimage and the countless ones I’ve received since then.
In 2018, one of my pilgrim family members, Jan, invited me to go on a second pilgrimage to the Holy Land planned for February of 2019.
I eagerly accepted her invitation and extended the offer to my sister-in-law, Lisa. That trip forever changed our relationship, making us true sisters in marriage, love, and faith. Since our return, rarely a day goes by that Lisa doesn’t check in on me to send her love and tell me she’s praying for me (she’s a much better sister than I am as I’m terrible at reaching out to people). Those texts mean more to me than she will ever know.
A couple days ago, something I was working on with a friend reminded me of this story.
When my girls were younger (our oldest, Rebecca, was between her junior and senior years of high school), we visited Italy. Rebecca asked her friends what she could bring back to them, and one of them said, “Find me the perfect Italian man, and convince him to come back to me.” We kidded the whole time about guys that we passed and how we would fit them into our suitcases; but when we went to the Academia and Rebecca saw Michelangelo’s David and heard of how the artist painstakingly worked on the marble wonder, making every muscle, tendon, and appendage absolutely perfect, she was entranced. She went right outside and bought two little statues from a street vendor, one for her friend and one for herself. When we got home, all her girlfriends went crazy over it and thought it was the funniest thing ever–that Rebecca had found the perfect man in Italy. Since then, I have never been able to gaze at that statue without thinking of David as the perfect male specimen!
Halloween week is upon us, the week when everyone wants to experience a healthy dose of fear. We dress up in scary costumes and parade our kids around after dark, visiting haunted houses and homes decorated like graveyards with spooky sounds drifting from open windows.
There’s something about being afraid, whether it’s while watching a scary movie (I’m a sucker for another viewing of Halloween) or participating in a ghost tour, that gives us an exhilarating thrill. But being in a constant state of fear is not the way we are meant to live our lives.
I’ve written before about the passages in the Bible which implore and even demand that we have no fear and about not letting fear to stop you from living, but I think it warrants repeating. There is something wrong, even dangerous, in allowing fear to have power over us and the way we live.
I am a brownie person, and I’ve raised brownie-loving girls! It’s not unusual for me to come down in the morning (when the girls are home) to find a batch of brownies on the kitchen counter–half-eaten of course! On the other hand, I’ve come down to peanut butter cookies, oatmeal no-bake cookies, and cakes in assorted colors (the green cake with blue icing looked so awful that even the baker–whose reputation I will protect–didn’t even eat it!
My sister-in-law, Lisa, makes wonderful brownies, and I never turn her down when she offers to bake them for any family occasion. And who doesn’t love brownies topped with ice cream like the delicious ones my mother made the last Christmas we were all together?
For the past few weeks, at the urging of my nursing student daughter, I’ve been seeing a chiropractor for the persistent pain in my lower back. After a three-hour consultation but before treatments began, the doctor sent me for a series of x-rays. I think I had more x-rays done that morning than all of the other trips to the radiologist over 51 years combined. I commented on this, and the tech laughed and said, “Yes, Dr. Roberts like to be very thorough.” So thorough, in fact, that on my return visit, Dr. Roberts went over every single inch of every x-ray, pointing out the arthritis here, the degenerative discs there, the minor scoliosis at the top and bottom of my spine, and many other irregularities that resulted from a lifetime of untreated injuries.
Many of the things that were pointed out to me came of no surprise. I’ve had lower back spasms and pain (sometimes excruciating) for about thirty years, and I’ve suffered from upper back pain for about five years. What did surprise me was all of the trauma he identified at the base of my skull and in my neck. I have pain and stiffness there that I didn’t even know I had…
This past weekend, I attended the Abbey Faith and Music Fest in Malvern, Pennsylvania, with my daughter, Katie, as a vendor. I’m pretty sure Katie would like to have been somewhere else, but we’d been planning on going for a while, and I knew I’d need help with sales, so she went with me without complaint. It was long day, beginning with a two-and-a-half hour drive from home that put us at the event shortly before 9am. It was a fun ride with Katie playing music and talking non-stop about which songs on Taylor’s latest album are her favorites. It was much better than the unplanned ride home after a dreadful hotel experience, but that’s a different story!
After we arrived at the abbey and got set up, Katie recognized her former RA from her sophomore year of college sitting in a tent across from us. They hugged and reminisced and talked about how much they loved sharing the same floor that semester. It was a great surprise for Katie, and I’m so happy the two reconnected. Just as nice as that meeting was the chance to meet and talk to young author, Sara Francis, with whom Katie hit it off immediately and promptly bought all three of her dystopian novels!
It’s that time of year again. I’m beginning to see pictures of kids and young adults heading back to school. How does the summer go by so quickly? Morgan heads back to Pittsburgh in just over a week, and it feels like she just got home! Oh, how these girls are going to miss her (Mom and Dad, too)!
Isn’t it amazing how fast our kids grow, how quickly the seasons change, and how each year of our lives seems to be shorter and shorter?
Sometimes, I feel as though I must have slept through a week because I just can’t believe it’s gone already.
The Gospel reading this past Sunday was about the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. I heard recently that for two-thousand years, theologians have gotten the story wrong. The modern interpretation is that the story is not about a miracle but about sharing. Supposedly, the Apostles asked the boy with the bread to share, and once he shared, everyone else decided to share, too. We’re now told that Jesus couldn’t really make five loaves and two fishes feed five-thousand people, and we should accept that this is just a nice story about the good side of humanity.
On Sunday, Father Michael gave us his own take on this story. He confirmed that it is about sharing, but not in the way that modernists believe. Jesus asked the Apostles where they could get food, and Andrew answered, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?”(John 6:9). Jesus told the Apostles to share the boy’s food with the crowd, and miraculously, they had their fill and then “collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat” (John 6: 13). Father told us that God was able to perform this wonderful miracle because one little boy was willing to share all that he had.
There are few things our family enjoys more during the summer than crabbing in the rivers and creeks that extend from the great Chesapeake Bay like multiple fingers from a hand. These offshoots, consisting of salt, fresh, and brackish waters, are as much a part of Ken and me as the blood that runs through our veins. I come from a long line of watermen and boat builders dating back to the Ark and the Dove that landed on St. Clement’s Island in 1634. Much of my family history was woven into my book, The Devil’s Fortune. Ken began working as an apprentice on a crabbing boat when he was eleven and owned his own boat by the time he was fifteen. Our girls are water creatures, especially our youngest, a champion swimmer and proud holder of a boating license since she was twelve.
As much as our family enjoys crabbing together, what we enjoy even more is taking other people crabbing. There’s something about it that appeals to people on so many levels that it’s akin to a spiritual event. In fact, our former Associate Pastor, Father Olsen, summed it up best several years ago. After we went crabbing, steamed our catch, and sat down to eat, he said a blessing over the food. He thanked God for the experience of harvesting, cooking, and feasting on God’s earthly bounty. It was such a beautiful moment that I still think of it each time I sit down to eat our catch.
I’ve written many times about my first trip to Israel and the friends I met on that trip who have become family. Since that trip in 2016, we’ve shared many happy times and some sad ones, always leaning on each other and witnessing to our faith. This week, we received the news that we lost a second pilgrim, and the Lord gained a new saint in Heaven. Just weeks after we returned from our sojourn, one of our most beloved pilgrims was killed in a plane crash. He was a veteran who continued to fly missions as a civilian bringing home POWs and MIAs. His loss came as a great shock to all of us. Just as sad, and initially shocking, was the very recent passing of a dear, sweet woman who has been battling cancer since our trip five years ago. The news came two night ago, and my friends and I are in the midst of sending flowers and planning our travel for the funeral that coincides with Hurricane Elsa. I’m sorry, Elsa, but you are no match for the strength of our Frances.
Frances’s passing comes at a unique time for me. My parents have always paid summer visits to our home, with the exception of 2020, and they have been here all week. What makes this trip unique is the duration of their stay. Rather than just a long weekend, they are spending an entire week with our family, and they brought my 15-year-old nephew with them to spend time with my girls. We’ve watched many classic movies that the kids haven’t seen, played cards and games, visited the local maritime museum where Morgan works, stopped into the shop where Katie works, and spent a fair amount of time on the boat. It’s been a wonderful week, and I’m sad to see it coming to a close. Mom and Dad will head home tomorrow night after my book launch, and I will head to Pennsylvania to stay the night with a friend before the two of us drive to New York for the funeral.
While I always enjoy every minute that I am blessed to spend with my parents, the coinciding of these two events gives new meaning to this precious time. We are not meant to waste a single minute of our lives or our time with our loved ones. Frances knew that. My parents know that. I pray that the rest of the my family knows that. Bickering and fighting and petty disagreements should never come between people who love each other, and every day should be faced with courage and strength, joy and peace. Frances taught me that. She taught all of us that.
Earlier this morning, I read that spending trends among Americans are changing. Rather than buying things (which we all did a lot of over the past year), Americans are buying experiences (which we did very little of in 2020). People are realizing that they have enough stuff but not enough experiences. People are not only ready to get out of their house (and out of their pajamas and sweatpants) but to get out into the world.
I’m always amazed by those who have little but live a lot. By that, I mean those who sell everything and buy a sailboat or an RV and live life as one grand adventure. A few years ago, friends took their four small children (and I mean really small–ages 3-9) on a sailboat trip around the world for a year. I can’t even imagine that! Ken was enthralled and talks often about selling everything and living the rest of our lives visiting one campground after another.
Did you ever see the movie, Up? The movie is about Carl, a grumpy old man whose wife passes away before they do the last thing on their bucket list–visit Paradise Falls. Carl ties hot air balloons to his house in order to fly himself to South America to live out his last great adventure with his beloved Ellie on his mind and in his heart. There’s a lot more to the story, but Carl learns the beautiful message of the movie when he returns from his adventure, still not satisfied with the way his life has turned out. He sits in his chair and leafs through the photo album of his life with Ellie and realizes that their entire life, every single moment great and small, was an adventure.
The older I get, the more I realize that there are all kinds of adventures.
Those who follow me on social media know that I’ve spent the past seven days at our family’s cabin the San Juan Range of the Rocky Mountains in Southwest Colorado. I’ve been enormously blessed to be able to share this majestic part of the world with eight other women from my tribe of women to whom I have become close since meeting in the Holy Land in 2016. Six of the women had to leave after five days, but two were able to stay a little longer and will return home later today. To say that a piece of my heart goes with each one of them is an understatement.
I learned so much about and from these women in just a few days, and the insights continue as the week goes on…
Yesterday, I was talking to my friend and tour expert, Anne, about the upcoming pilgrimage I am planning to the Holy Land. We were exchanging stories of our Easter celebrations–mine here in Maryland and hers in New Jersey. Anne made the comment that “the entire day truly had a Resurrection feeling to it.”
Those words kept coming back to me over and over throughout the day.
A Resurrection feeling.
They took me back to this time last year, and I was amazed by how right Anne was. It is as if we have all experienced a true resurrection…
Here we are in the last week of Lent. It’s time to reflect on the past nearly forty days and examine how we did, not as an exercise of beating up oneself for our failures but in recognizing how far we have come. Have we grown spiritually? Have we gotten better at prayer? Have we grown closer to God? What sacrifices did we make, and how did they improve us?
Sacrifices come in many different forms. I’ve often wondered about those who forego chicken on Fridays but dine on lobster instead. I’m not judging. Perhaps they would rather be having chicken! Besides, in our house, Friday dinners during Lent consist of homemade crab cakes, but it’s not the crab cakes that I see as the sacrifice.
It’s everything that goes with them. Here’s what I mean…
I’ve written before about having faith in God rather than living your life in fear. It’s something that is often on my mind but especially so over the past year.
A few days ago, a friend posted this photograph with the caption,
Covid 19 is not your enemy, fear is. You will not die one day sooner or one day later than God has planned for you. But he did not create you to live in fear. The Bible says, “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7
This truly spoke to me because this is how our family has chosen to live over the past year.
I’ve talked a lot in the past few weeks about renewal and new beginnings. We often think of springtime as the signature time of year for these new beginnings. Spring brings Easter and flowers and warmer days with shorter nights. Yet I have come to learn that we can witness renewals and new beginnings at any time of year, even in the cold days of winter.
For about sixteen years, our family has had a cabin in Colorado that we share with some family and friends. For about that long, Ken has wanted to visit the cabin in the winter, and I have said, absolutely not, no way, no how, I’m not interested. Well, this year, he somehow convinced me to make the trip, and here I sit, typing in my makeshift office–our kitchen table–with the warm, morning sun on my back.
Over the past few days, I’ve seen this beautiful part of the country in a whole new light…
It’s still cold outside, but it’s predicted to reach 60° two days this week. There are signs everywhere that spring is coming. Our irises are already six inches tall, and the daffodils are probably just below the swath of snow stretching across the garden. The days are growing longer, and Easter–late this year–is just one a month away. All around us are signs of new beginnings.
Many of you will remember that our oldest daughter got married in September, between waves of COVID that forced so many weddings to be cancelled or postponed. She experienced an entire year of new beginnings, and she’s already doing the same in 2021.
When our children were young, we always talked to them about Lent and how it leads up to Easter. We made sure they all gave up something and understood the sacrifice involved. One year, when they were all very young, we even did the jelly bean Lenten activity. One thing I’m not sure we did adequately was to teach our children why we give things up. I don’t know that we really emphasized the point of the sacrifice, the point of going without, or the point of forty days of changed behavior.
As one who has never felt spiritually challenged or renewed by giving things up, I do know that I always tried to impress upon our girls that it’s not always about what you give up. The real point is what goes on within. That’s really what Lent is all about – a change from within.
To make up for lost time with my own girls and in an attempt to help others, here are things I feel are more important than giving up. These are the other UPs of Lent:
Whether they’re a football fan or not, I suspect most people enjoy seeing what the world of advertising has to show us during those thirty-second to two-minute breaks between downs and quarters. I still get chills when I think about Mean Joe Greene throwing his jersey to the “kid” who offered him a Coke, and who doesn’t remember the iconic “Where’s the Beef” ad that made Wendy’s a household name? Most of all, who could forget the clydesdales kneeling before the space that was once the Twin Towers? That still brings tears to my eyes. As does this one from Toyota that will air this coming Sunday during the Super Bowl…
This morning, my mother began taking down her Christmas decorations. As she frequently does this time of year, she replaced the decorations on her dining room table with the tablecloth that her mother-in-law made for her as a wedding present.
This tablecloth, with hours of love crocheted into every knot and loop, is one of my mother’s most prized possessions. She lost her mother-in-law less than ten years after she and my father wed, but Grandma Mac lives on every year when that tablecloth graces my parents’ table. For fifty-seven years, this tablecloth has been not only a beautiful reminder of my grandmother but a witness to baby showers and wedding plans and family dinners and all the sorrow and joy that comes from being part of a family.
When I was a little girl, I loved all of the Christmas specials. It was a big deal in our family when they came on TV. We all gathered in our basement recroom, the popcorn popper whirring the kernels around in the melted butter, the scent filling the air, as we waited in anticipation of shows that could only be watched when they aired that one time each year. My favorites were always The Little Drummer Boy and The Year Without a Santa Claus. I loved the latter because it proved that nothing could stop Christmas from coming–not a blizzard, not a heatwave, not a feud between two warring brothers, not Santa being sick, or lack of belief in the world. Mrs. Claus was determined that Christmas would happen no matter what.
Last night, we had the opportunity to have dinner with our now married daughter and her husband at their new home. This is Rebecca and Anthony’s first Christmas living together and the first time they decorated their own Christmas tree. I stood for several minutes and looked at the ornaments from their combined childhoods and thought about all the years we’ve collected ornaments for our girls. It felt odd to see Rebecca’s ornaments on a tree other than our family tree, but it was a beautiful, comforting feeling to know that a big part of her childhood hangs on the tree in her new home. We are still tethered together by tradition even when miles apart.
A tree beside our house was struck by lightning the other day. It was scary. The entire house shook from the sound akin to a sonic boom, and a red-orange light filled every room, like a giant fireball hurled through the windows. We knew lightning had struck nearby, but we didn’t know where. It was raining too hard to go outside and look around, and everything in the house seemed okay, so we surmised perhaps it wasn’t as close as we thought.
That evening, we all sat down together to watch a holiday special on TV, and we had no TV… The Tivo was working. It told us what channel was on and what program we should be seeing on the screen, but all we saw was a message that there was no signal. We checked the other televisions in the house and found that we had no stations on any of them. Ken went outside with a flashlight and found that the antenna was still there, so he checked the booster in the garage where the signal comes into the house. The booster was not working.
There are just six days left until my online launch party!
I’m so excited! On Tuesday, December 1, I hope you will join me between 4:00 and 6:00PM Eastern Time on Facebook or YouTube. You will have the chance to order Desert Fire, Mountain Rain, book one of my new serieswhich takes place in the Ozarks. You can watch me sign your book while I answer questions and talk to readers who leave comments. It’s going to be so much fun!
I don’t know about you, but I really feel like I need something to look forward to this week, and what better thing to get excited about than a new book series? Seriously, winter is coming, fireplaces are ablaze, and those fuzzy blankets are being put to good use. This one is a gift I received last Christmas from one of my best friends, and I look forward to cuddling up with it every night! I love to cover myself with a warm blanket and lose myself in a good story. Can’t you just hear those book characters calling you?
I have an update on my live streaming event on On December 1. Because I’ve had so many readers reach out to me who do not have Facebook, I will be hosting my Launch Party on both Facebook AND YouTube! Tune in live to get your signed copy of the first book in my new series which takes place in the Ozarks! Join me from 4:00-6:00PM Eastern Time on either YouTube or Facebook Live. I’ll have copies of my new book, Desert Fire, Mountain Rain, on hand for you to purchase via a special link, and you can watch me sign your book while I answer questions and talk to readers. Leave a comment with a question, and I will answer it live during the launch. Keep checking my website and social media (Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter), for more information about the launch and the series.
Do you remember the Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day? Of course you do. It’s the one where Bill’s curmudgeonly character has to relive the same day over and over until he gets it right. Do you feel like we’ve all been sucked into the vortex of the never-ending story? That this pandemic just keep playing on a loop over and over again?
As is typically the case here in Maryland, we went from sunny, balmy days, to breezy days and cold nights in the blink of an eye. One day, it was eighty-five degrees, and the next, it was fifty! Fall is certainly here, and according to the national weather map, that’s the case across the country. Along with pumpkin spice lattes and the sudden appearance of corn mazes and apple cider ice cream, we’re turning our focus to warm fires, cozy sweaters, and fast approaching holidays.
The leaves are beginning to change, and the days are growing shorter and shorter with less daylight in each twenty-four period. My evening walks are now late afternoon walks, and we’re turning in earlier than we were just a couple weeks ago.
I like to think of fall as the time of year when we recharge. It’s the chance to snuggle under a blanket, sip from a big mug of hot chocolate, and take Sunday afternoon naps. There seems to be a kind of lull between the busyness of the summer and the rush of the holidays where we can just take a deep breath and gaze at the world around us.
Here we are, four days post-wedding, and I’m feeling that letdown that happens after months of frantic activity. Since the first of July, I have followed a strict daily list – adding, rearranging, and checking things off each day. Now, I’m not sure what I should be doing with my days! Fortunately, I already have a bit of an outline (in my head, of course) for my next book, and the manuscript is formatted and ready for me to begin weaving my tale. Once my house is finally put back together and all loose ends are tied up, I will be back at my desk for eight to ten hours each day. I will still have my checklists, but they won’t be hyper-focused on wedding planning! One thing I know I will still follow from those many checklists is saying a daily novena. I’ve never been a novena person. My grandmother used to say them all the time, but I just never thought about adding one to my morning prayer time.
For those who are not familiar with the novena, it is an ancient tradition in which devotional praying is repeated every day for nine days (hence, the “nov” part). Tradition holds that the first novena was said between the Feast of the Ascension and Pentecost when the disciples gathered for nine days in the Upper Room and prayed before being sent into the world by the Holy Spirit. Most often, novenas are prayed to ask for the intercession of saints on behalf the person praying or persons being prayed for. Many Christian religions use novenas in prayer.
Ken and I started our week by attending the very low-key funeral of a dear friend from our church. As I stood in the pew watching the priests process to the altar, it occurred to me that we are beginning the week with a funeral and ending it with a wedding. I thought to myself, how appropriate.
Though many see death as the ultimate ending, we Catholics see things differently. We celebrate funerals. We don’t have them. We don’t host them. We don’t do them. We celebrate them. A funeral is a celebration, not of one’s life (though we certainly do that, too), but of one’s passing on to the next life. Death is not seen an end but a new beginning. Jesus told us, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be” (Jn 14:2-3).
Our daughter’s wedding is less than two weeks away, ten days to be exact! To say that planning a wedding during COVID is stressful doesn’t begin to come close to what it’s actually like. It seems like there’s a new snag to deal with every day. However, our family has come to realize that for every bad thing that comes up, something good outweighs and outshines it. And each time I become frustrated and want to scream, Ken reminds me that Rebecca’s wedding day will be a beautiful celebration of love no matter what.
No matter what.
That’s a phrase I keep repeating to myself. No matter what we face, no matter what obstacles or stumbling blocks we hurdle, no matter who is there or not there, our daughter and the love of her life are getting married in a union blessed by God. And that’s really all that counts, isn’t it? They are being married, and God is involved. All of these snags, all of these inconveniences, all of these worries and fears, perhaps they are God’s way of reminding me to stop trying to be in control, that He is involved, that He has this under control, that all I need is to surrender to Him.
I need to surrender and to remember that from the day they met, God has been involved.
For the past fourteen years, Ken and I have traveled, about once every eighteen months or so, to our shared cabin in the San Juan range of the Rocky Mountains. It is a refuge for us, a place where we can lie around all day and read or hike through a field of wildflowers or climb into the sky atop a fourteener.
Uncompahgre Peak, elevation 14,308′
Last week, Ken and I spent several days at the cabin, and it was unlike any other time we’ve spent there, beginning with the drive.
A couple weeks ago, we set out on an evening adventure to see the Neowise comet. The outing was a bust. There was too much cloud cover; and, with no visible stars, we weren’t sure we had the right angle. It was a pleasant evening, though, sitting on the dock, listening to music and talking as we waited to see if the clouds would make way for the brightest comet to appear in our skies in over a quarter century. We didn’t see the comet, but we were treated to a beautiful twilight sky, and we certainly couldn’t complain about that!
Though we weren’t able to see Neowise that night, we were undeterred. We looked at the weather forecast and chose another night two days hence. We anxiously awaited our next attempt, and guess what…
When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time riding my bike. I rode to my friends’ houses. I rode to the neighborhood park. I rode with my brothers in the woods behind our house, up and down the rock hill and along the trails. I rode with my mom on days when we girls just wanted to get out on our own for a short time. When I was in high school, my boyfriend and I frequently rode bikes on sunny summer days.
Several years ago, we bought bikes to take with us on camping trips. Every now and then, I’d ride mine around our little fishing village but not often. Over the lockdown this past spring, we all lowered our bikes down from the rafters of the garage and tried to take family rides, but my bike was old, and the seat was hard and uncomfortable, and I dreaded riding it.
I think that often happens to us in life…Read more →
These are strange and trying times we are living in. We go from months of being isolated from the world to having the world marching outside our windows in our streets and throughout our cities and small towns, not sitting still but sitting in to stand up for justice. We have lost trust in the news, we have lost trust in some of the medical experts, and we have lost trust in each other. But the larger failing of the human race, the one that has led all of us to this moment is a greater loss–the loss of love, the fundamental loss of just loving each other, for love is the only thing that can win in this fight, and it has to be the kind of love that is the pure, unselfish, dying to self kind of love. We must imitate the greatest of all loves…
We have received word that our church is hoping to reopen on the weekend of the celebration of Pentecost. When I first heard this news, I was thrilled, but I didn’t give much thought to any deeper meaning or significance to the timing. However, as a few days have gone by since receiving the text from our pastor, and upon finding out that many other churches are also opening that weekend, I’ve come to a realization that I find both uplifting and amazing.
Just think about it for a moment…
Live Masses across the country are going to begin happening on Pentecost Sunday.
Pentecost Sunday.
Uplifting, yes. Amazing, absolutely. A beautiful example of how God works in our lives, beyond doubt.
This entire period in our world’s history continues to bring upon us new challenges and stark realities. For some, priorities have become clearer. For others, life is more confusing and harder to face than ever. I’ve learned that we should never take anything for granted and that the power of prayer is even more present, more real, more attainable than I ever imagined.Mom and me last Mother’s Day
Many of you know that I have really struggled with not being able to see my parents over the past two months. I spent all of Mother’s Day in tears, hardly able to even call my mother because I was so emotional. I went through all the stages of grief, from sadness to despair to extreme anger. All I wanted was to see my mother.
Unfortunately, the old adage slapped me right across my face–be careful what you wish for… Read more →
“Faith, like film, is developed in the darkness.” This was said by our associate pastor, Father Michael Angeloni, at daily Mass this past Monday, April 20. When I heard those words, I did what I so often want to do when I attend a live Mass–I stopped the video and backed it up to listen again. “Faith, like film, is developed in the darkness.” Father said that even those who walk closely with God experience times of darkness, times when nothing seems to make sense, times when we ask questions and seek answers.
Several times each day, I look at this situation we are in and wonder, what is happening? Why is this happening? How can we get past this? I question everything that is being done. Is it the right thing to stay home and not risk being exposed? Is it right to protest staying in? Is it right to close so many businesses? Is it right to keep businesses open? Is it right to visit with people whom we know have had no exposure? Is it best to shut ourselves off from physical contact with anyone and everyone? How do we know when it’s safe to go into the world again? What are the answers, and how do we know what the right answers are?
I am stumbling in the dark, grappling for the light switch. I can’t see where I’m going. I don’t know if danger lies ahead. The darkness seems to swallow me, distorting my vision, and I can’t tell if I’m alone.
I write this just a day before we begin the sacred Triduum–those three days before Easter Sunday when Christ suffered His passion and death. I can’t believe that this will be the first Easter in my entire life that I will not be with my parents and brothers and all of our extended family. Our fifty-some person guest list has been dwindled to just six–Ken and me, our three girls, and Ken’s mother across the street from us.
I’ve been crying a lot this week. I feel a bit lost. I don’t know what I would do without my Bible studies (which we continue online), daily Mass, the encouraging messages I am receiving through various email lists and YouTube channels, and the Zoom party my girlfriends and I had last night.
I miss my mom and dad. I miss hugging and sitting with my friends. I miss going to Mass with an excruciating longing.
This morning, I watched my go-to morning news program, shaking my head at what I saw and heard. Tony Dokoupil, a reporter I greatly respect and admire, was visibly angry and shut down hisinterviewwith Alex Azar, Health and Human Services Secretary, because Azar refused to answer a question exactly the way Dokoupil wanted it answered. Three times, the Secretary was interrupted with the same question as he was trying to give the answer. Before Azar was able to fully finish, Dokoupil abruptly ended the interview. Azar wasn’t avoiding the question. He wasn’t playing politics. He was clearly giving a well-thought-out, systematic answer, but he wasn’t allowed to finish.
And this is where we are, folks. As Captain said inCool Hand Luke, “What we’ve got here is…a failure to communicate.” Or is there too much communication without really saying anything that matters?
And it’s happening everywhere.
It’s no wonder everyone is confused about staying in or going out. Nobody knows who to believe or what to think. It’s like we’re all… Read more →
We have 325 days, from the time Lent ends one year until it begins the next year, to think about what we will do; yet here I am once again, as always, still trying to figure it out on Ash Wednesday. After all of these years on this earth, you would think I’d be better at this. You would think that I would have a list of a dozen things to choose from. Give up this, add that, emphasize this, read that. But no, it never comes easily for me. I struggle with the Lenten decision well into the forty days, always wondering if I’ve made the right choice, if it’s having any effect on me, if it’s at all pleasing to God.
And I realize that it’s not just during Lent that this happens. And it’s not just me. It’s not just Catholics or other Lent-observing Christians. I think we all spend 365 days a year questioning ourselves, our actions, and our intentions, wondering if we are doing the right thing, using the right words, making the right choices, and spending our time wisely.
I ask myself, why do I always doubt and worry whether what I do or say is good enough?
And then it dawns on me, and I wonder, is it really that simple? Is it true that all we have to do is… Read more →
Before I begin my blog, I’d like to make a plea to all readers of my books. Please take a few minutes to review my books on Amazon or Goodreads. The publishing industry has changed so much in the past ten years, and now, the only way for an author to survive is by amassing reviews on Amazon. It’s crucial that readers spread the word about books they’ve enjoyed. On another note, I’d love to chat with your book club in person or via video. Just send me a message! contact@amyschislerauthor.com
The other day, I learned that a fellow author and friend of mine received the unexpected news that she has cancer and that death is imminent. To know, to plan, to seek help, and to fight are all things which humans are adept at handling. To be told, out of the blue, that there is nothing to be done except gather your family together is, to me, unimaginable. It would be a blow so detrimental to one’s emotional and physical being that I can’t grasp the enormity of what she could be feeling. For me, I believe that I would have to hand all of the fear, uncertainty, and anguish over to God. I would need Him to take on what I could not and to reach out His hand to lead me home.
My first instinct when hearing about someone who is sick or facing death, is to pray for them. While it’s not necessary to tell them that I’m praying for them, I’ve learned that many find it comforting to know that others are offering prayers for their healing or comfort.
So, what do you do, how do you offer comfort, when the person does not believe in God? What words can be said other than the dreaded, “I’m sorry”?
I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and I humbly believe…Read more →
I spent this past weekend in Houston, Texas, with eight of my closest friends. It was a reunion we’d all been looking forward to since last August. Our group spans the US from north to south and almost from east to west. We all have very busy lives, but we make it a point to plan get-togethers with each other as often as we can with at least one large group gathering every year.
This past week marked the four-year anniversary since we first met on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and what did we do to celebrate? We ate–a LOT– we had a few drinks, we failed to escape an escape room, we went to Mass together, we did a little shopping, and we laughed as much as we ate.
But what we did the most was talk.
We talked and talked and talked. And when we ran out of things to say…Read more →
One of my all-time favorite songs is the hymn, Here I am Lord. I can’t help myself–every time I hear it, I find myself fighting back tears. The lyrics speak to me, to the depths of my soul, to that place where only God’s voice can be heard.
Here I am Lord Is it I Lord? I have heard You calling in the night I will go Lord If You lead me
I will hold Your people in my heart
The hymn recalls the words of Isaiah (6:8) who responded to God’s call for service.
Today’s reading from 1 Samuel 1-10, 19-20 brought that song to mind. In the reading, Samuel runs to Eli three times, telling the prophet that Samuel heard him calling. The third time, Eli recognizes that it is God whom Samuel is hearing. He instructs Samuel on how to answer, and the youth, upon being called again, answers as he is told, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”
As I read these words this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder…Read more →
As I write this, it is December 31st, the last day of 2019, a day of celebration, of ushering out the old and in the new, of resolutions and promises and hope for a better tomorrow. As I look back over the past year, a tidal wave of emotions sweeps over me. So many ups, so many downs, much laughter, many tears, and a multitude of mistakes.
It is the dawning of a new year, a fresh start. What is it I want to take with me as I leave this year behind and leap into a new year?
On the first weekend of Advent, Ken and I lovingly placed, on the kitchen table, the Advent wreath we bought last summer in Mexico City while on pilgrimage to Guadalupe. That night, before dinner, we lit the first candle and then proceeded to enjoy our meal. The next morning, I made a horrifying discovery. Read more →
I recently heard someone say that the greatest gift her parents gave her was her faith. It kind of stopped me in my tracks. Here we are, in the midst of the Christmas shopping season, and I hear that the greatest gift someone received from her parents was the gift of faith. Not an Apple Watch, not a laptop, not a designer bag or piece of jewelry, but the simplest of gifts–the ability to believe what is not seen and embrace it, the courage to trust in God, and the knowledge that there is a glorious new life awaiting us.
I thought to myself, how true it is that the greatest gift we can pass down is easy and free to give, but then I realized, faith is not easy and it’s not free… Read more →
Earlier this week, my daughter told me that she had decided not to get her father a new wallet for Christmas. “It’s too personal, and I’m afraid I’d get him one he won’t like.” I started thinking about my own wallet. For many years, my wallet served a dual purpose. It held money and necessary ID cards, but it also held beloved photos of my family. As a child, this photo of my aunt and my grandparents was the first one I was given to put in my wallet, and it stayed there for the next thirty years. It was very special to me, a reminder of the special relationship I shared with all three of them (and still share with my Aunt Debbie today).
My relationship with my aunt hasn’t changed, but my relationship with my wallet has. Read more →
We arrived at Reagan National close to nine at night. Our dog, Rosie, was at my parents’ house, so we drove to Southern Maryland for the night. After a hearty breakfast of eggs, scrapple (my favorite), and Mom’s homemade coffee cake, we headed home as the sun was climbing into the sky. The night felt short, and a part of me welcomed the two-hour drive because I wasn’t quite ready to face the day, but another part of me just wanted to close my eyes and open them again once we in our driveway–not due to sleepiness but restlessness. We crossed the Chesapeake Bay and drove toward home. The closer we got, the more excited Rosie got, and I knew how she felt.
It’s the same sentiment I’ve heard our youngest express all semester, her first away from home. We all know the quote… Read more →
I woke up this morning in a familiar place but under very different circumstances. We’ve had a vacation home in the Southern Rockies for about fifteen years, and our family has been out here many times. However, this is my first trip out here in the fall. While the house is the same, the landscape and the wildlife are not. Even the sun rises in a slightly different location.
As I watched the changing of the early morning sky, my feet feeling like ice and my hands trembling a bit in the frosty air, I thought about how much this reminds me of life itself and the changing landscape we all experience as we grow older.Read more →
This past weekend, I attended a retreat at the beautiful St. Vincent the Martyr Catholic Church in Madison, New Jersey. With all the craziness of the past few months, it was a welcome treat to be able to spend twenty-six hours in prayer and reflection and listen to the stories of other women who are at various stages in their prayer lives. It made me realize how blessed I am in so many ways, and it made me realize just what true love is… Read more →
When I was a little girl, going to Mass with my family or at school, I loved it when we sang the hymn, Sing to the Mountains. It’s little wonder that one of my favorite places to go to as an adult is Colorado. We cherish every minute we are blessed to enjoy in our mountain cabin, but there are many other places I’ve been blessed to see, and each one of them makes me want to proclaim,
Sing to the mountains, sing to the sea. Raise your voices, lift your hearts. This is the day the Lord has made. Let all the earth rejoice.
The past few days, Ken and I have marveled at the beauty of God’s creation in one of the most amazing places on earth…Read more →
Today, I am at a loss. The house is so quiet. There are no children to send off to school, no fall sporting events to attend, no evening programs to get ready for. It’s just me and Rosie, planning our day without too much excitement.
This past weekend was a blur of activity. We spent the weekend visiting our youngest daughter at college, and my parents were here until yesterday. It was a wonderful, non-stop adventure in a city full of lights and noise and young people reaching for the stars.
Are they the same? Do they conjure the same thoughts, the same feelings, the same needs? Of these three, which would you most desire in your life?
The great writer and, dare I say, theologian, C.S. Lewis wrote time and time again about joy. Even his memoir is titled, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life. In it, he writes,
“Joy must be sharply distinguished both from Happiness and Pleasure. Joy (in my sense) has indeed one characteristic, and one only, in common with them; the fact that anyone who has experienced it will want it again … I doubt whether anyone who has tasted it would ever, if both were in his power, exchange it for all the pleasures in the world. But then Joy is never in our power and Pleasure often is.”
Just a couple weeks back, I wrote of the joy of those who work at Castel Gandolfo. I was amazed not by their happiness, not by their pleasure at being able to guide and assist, but by their sheer joy, a palpable exuding of something we simply cannot sustain here on earth.
How ironic that I now find myself immersed in the sentiment of joy once again as I read the delightful novel, Becoming Mrs. Lewis. While the story is meant to tell the love story of Joy Davidman and C.S. Lewis, what I find the most intriguing are the many ways Lewis finds and relishes those moments of joy.
Before I begin this week’s blog, I’d like to remind us all that today is 9/11.
May all of us remember with love and compassion this day.
May we grieve with those who still mourn,
And share memories with those who cannot forget.
May we draw strength from those who bravely responded,
And gave their lives to save others.
May we stand with strangers who became neighbors that day,
And remember their generosity and hospitality.
Above all God may we remember your faithfulness
And learn to trust in your unfailing love
The other morning, I heard an interview with Jeannie Gaffigan, wife of comedian, Jim Gaffigan, that echoed recent thoughts of mine. Her new book, When Life Gives You Pears: The Healing Power of Family, Faith, and Funny People (Oct 1, 2019), tells the story of what she learned after being diagnosed with a brain tumor. The main takeaway from the interview was, good can come from bad. No matter what cross we bear, we can choose how to carry it, how we respond to it, and how to navigate to the end of the painful road. More importantly, we can take that pain and suffering and put it toward the good. How fitting that we think of this today.
And how clear this was to me this past weekend. Read more →
Bonjourno! What an amazing, spontaneous adventure I’m having! I am so exited to share with you what I discovered today. About two weeks ago, my husband told me that he had been asked to meet with his company’s administrative team at their headquarters in Rome to discuss their upcoming budget. After checking, he realized he had enough frequent flyer mileage to take me with him (so long, empty nest back home). The only catch was that he would be working ten-hour days, so I would be on my own most of the time. Alone in Rome with nothing to do…how would I fill my time?
Of course, I have found plenty of ways to fill my time! And I can’t wait to share with you the best experience I’ve had in a long time. Read more →
Did you ever have one of those days when you feel like you are doing nothing but banging your head against a wall? A day where you hit obstacle after obstacle and are living the old adage, one step forward and two steps back? I’m having one of those weeks, and I have to admit, I feel so discouraged. This is hard for me because I am not a person who is easily discouraged. So, today I’m going to try to think of ways to overcome these feelings, and I have the perfect starting point.
This morning, I received the best email ever. It came from someone I have never met, a reader of my latest book, Island of Hope. Diana wrote, “This was an amazing book!!!! The characters were very real and likable and the whole story line gave a sense of hope! I read it in less than 24 hours, it was that good!!! This was the first of your books I had read….and I loved it!! I look forward to reading more! I shared quotes from your book that I found very inspirational in emails to Christian friends and I am sending the book to the woman who was my kids’ Sunday school teacher as she just lost her husband. Keep up the awesome work! :)”
Wow. This brought tears to my eyes. It was just what I needed this morning. Sometimes, that’s all we need to create a positive shift in our lives–a sign that we’re doing okay despite what’s in front of our very limited point of view.
This past Sunday, the Gospel reading told the story of Martha and Mary, a story that I assume everyone familiar with the Gospels knows by heart. No matter your religion or creed or background, I’m sure you agree that within each of us lies a Martha or a Mary. Those who possess the characteristics of both women are truly the smart ones, the ones who understand that life is a balance. In the story of Martha cooking and cleaning and Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, Martha always seems to get the bad rap, but I would argue that the world needs both Marthas and Marys, and that we should all strive to be both. Here’s why… Read more →
A few years ago, I shared the news that our Golden Retriever, Misty, had been diagnosed with a heart murmur. This past Sunday, I held my beautiful girl in my arms as her heart beat for the last time. I won’t get into a theological debate about whether or not she’s waiting for me in Heaven. That’s one of the many things beyond my comprehension. What I do know is that we could all learn to be better Christians by emulating our canine friends. Here’s how my girl brought the teachings of the Bible to life…
Yesterday, my daughter, my mother-in-law, and I went to see the new live-action release of Disney’s Aladdin. As with all of Disney’s films, it was a spectacle for the eyes and a sweet concoction for the ears. I was surprised that only Jasmine and Aladdin seemed Middle-Eastern. Those were some lily-white inhabitants of Agrabah! Overall, though, the acting was superb,, the score was enchanting, and we really enjoyed the film, except for one thing that completely ruined the ending for me and left me feeling very much out of sorts…Read more →
Over the past two days, I was back home attending the funeral of a beloved cousin. The prayer service on Monday evening and the funeral Mass on Tuesday were beautiful and brought many happy memories to mind as we bid goodbye to one of the brightest lights in our family.
Father Early’s Homily really struck a chord with me. He likened life to a class in school. He said that, ideally, when we go to class, we work to achieve As; however, Father told us that we should work hard to achieve all Fs in the class of life.
A couple nights ago, Ken and I went to the movies to see Breakthrough.
If you have somehow managed to miss the trailer for this movie, let me summarize it for you. It is the miraculous true story about 14-year-old, John Smith, who fell through the ice on a lake in his small hometown outside of St. Louis. He was pulled from the ice and taken to the local hospital. After approximately an hour with no pulse, the doctor, a father of one of John’s classmates, told John’s mother (played by This Is Us star, Chrissy Metz) that there was nothing more he could do–John was dead, and she needed to say goodbye. John’s mother, Joyce, implored for help from the Almighty, begging Jesus to send his Holy Spirit down to breathe life into her son. Suddenly, the monitor began to beep. After more than an hour of death, John had a pulse, and the battle to save his life ensued.Read more →
This week is Holy Week throughout the Christian world. It’s the week where we are reminded just how much God loves us. It’s the week that the past several weeks of Lent have been leading up to–the crescendo in the opus of God’s masterpiece about love. How remarkable that it was late in Lent when I was given the beautiful gift of realizing why what I do is so special, why my writing is so meaningful to me and to many others, and why it’s all about love.Read more →
Those who follow me on Facebook or Instagram will know that I spent this past weekend at a writer’s conference in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. What a fabulous city that is! I’m going to be honest here, my only knowledge of and experiences with Milwaukee involve the Cunninghams, Fonzie, and Laverne and Shirley. I had no idea what a delightful place it is with its Old World architecture, German restaurants, and biergartens (lots and lots of beer gardens, pubs, and bars). Of course, I did take some time to visit the Bronze Fonz while I was there, but my best and most personal experience had nothing to do with 70s television or even with the conference… Read more →
Over the course of the past couple weeks, I have seen, heard, read, experienced, and learned so many things–things that, at first glance, seem to have no connection at all. Of course, we all know that life, in God’s perfect plan, doesn’t happen that way. Everything is connected. Everything has purpose. Everything is meant to teach us and to lead us to a closer relationship with God and with each other.
Here’s my take on these seemingly random, but no doubt interconnected, occurrences…
Have you ever met someone who exuded kindness like the smell of a cherry pie in an open window on a summer day? This is a person whose eyes catch you, twinkle, and without words, bid you a good day. The kind of person who holds out his hand to help you down from a bus, or pulls out a chair for you, or offers to carry your suitcase even though he has one of his own. The kind of person who talks little about himself or herself but offers to listen, without judgement, to whatever is on your mind, offering a smile and encouraging word. As I’ve said before, kindness is all that really matters, and meeting a truly kind person can alter your attitude, your day, even your life. How often do you meet such a person? Once a day? Once a month? Once in a lifetime?
Wouldn’t it be nice to meet someone like that in every encounter you have?
As I write this, I am concluding day two of my second visit to the Holy Land. We spent the day in Galilee, visiting the towns of Nazareth, Cana, and Tabgha. I feel enormously blessed to be back in this place where, as we heard this morning, “the Word became flesh.” Just thinking about that brings me chills and causes my eyes to tear up. Who are we that the Son of God should come to save us? It’s such a humbling thought, and yet, throughout the day today, I have been reminded that God does come to us over and over in our lives. He seeks us out, invites us to come to Him, and implores us to follow Him. We but need to answer with one word… Read more →
New Year’s resolutions are tricky. So often, people choose ones that are so lofty, it’s impossible to reach them. Other times, resolutions are simply not easily added to our daily routines and are forgotten or just fall by the wayside. This year, like everyone else reading this, I am determined to keep my three 2019 promises to myself, but I’m not off to a good start! So, I’ve come up with some strategies that will, hopefully, help to keep myself on task.
I don’t usually share my resolutions, but I want to hold myself more accountable this year, so I’m going to share them with the 1000+ people reading this! I’ve set three goals for 2019:
1. I want to continue getting back into the routine of saying a daily Rosary.
2. I want to make it to a gym class at least three times each week.
3. I MUST stop saying, “I already told you…” to my husband!
Yesterday was January 1st, and I was determined to start the year off right. I was going to say my Rosary before Mass, but, of course, we had an issue with the altar ministries that I had to sort out, so that didn’t happen. All day, I intended to fit it into my schedule, but in all honesty, I never took the time to make it happen. So, FAIL, right off the bat!
Here we are, more than halfway through the season of Advent. Two weeks ago, I wrote about being grateful and giving the gift of love this Christmas. Last week, I wrote about the importance of patience and even more important, not taking for granted what you’ve been waiting for! This week, amid the hustle and bustle of the season, I’ve been trying to remember to be grateful, patient, and appreciative, but it’s a busy time of year, and it’s easy to get caught up in the preparations without remembering what it’s all about. For several days now, I’ve been thinking about a beautiful Scripture passage: 1 Kings 19, 11-13. I can’t help but marvel in how that story of Elijah is repeated every day in our own lives, especially during the Christmas season.
Then the LORD said: Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will pass by. There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD—but the LORD was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the LORD was not in the earthquake;
after the earthquake, fire—but the LORD was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound.
When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
In this age of instant gratification, it seems that nobody has the patience to wait for anything anymore. No matter how old we are, we have all been swept up in the belief that we need everything to happen or be given to us right now, at this very moment. The notion of waiting for anything has completely gone out of fashion. Amazon is even looking at the possibility of same-day delivery drones because getting a package in one or two days is simply not fast enough any longer.
This week, our Jewish friends are celebrating Chanukah, meaning dedication, an eight-day period to celebrate religious freedom and the rededication of the temple after war with Greece. Though the great temple in Jerusalem is no longer standing, the Jewish people continue to pray there and continue to wait for the coming of their Messiah. In fact, they have been waiting for 6000 years. Talk about being patient! While Christians believe that the Messiah has already come, we are reminded, each year, of the 4000 years we waited when we celebrate Advent. To many, this four-week period of anticipation is more than they can bear. I know of one couple who already exchanged Christmas presents because they couldn’t bear to wait just twenty days more for Christmas.
Thanksgiving is over. We survived Black Friday, and Cyber Monday seems to be stretching itself all the way to Friday. The Hallmark channel now plays constantly on at least one television in every home in America (come on, admit it). Santa is receiving letters and is making a list and checking it twice. The ads on television and on the Internet are telling us that those lists need to be longer, the letters fatter, the asking louder, the gifts bigger. It has always amazed me that we spend an entire day giving thanks for all we have and then turn around within ten hours (or substantially less for some) and begin focussing on what we don’t have, what we want, what we must have, or else. Perhaps others also see the irony in this, and that is the reason why this commercial, from Forest Hill Church, in Charlotte, North Carolina, has gone viral in the past couple days.
Believe me, I am just as guilty as everyone else when it comes to focussing on gift giving at Christmas (and gift getting). I sent a link to my family for an item I’d really like to have with the suggestion they buy it while it’s on sale. And I’ve sent links to my extended family with gift suggestions for my girls. It’s how we’ve always done things, and it’s hard for me to see anything wrong with it, but something I read the other day really made me stop in my tracks. It was a gospel reflection by Bishop Robert Barron.
Perhaps I’m the only person watching, but I absolutely love the new television show, God Friended Me. It tells the story of an atheist, Miles, who is friended by God on Facebook. He declines the invitation again and again until he realizes this prankster, as he believes the person to be, isn’t going to give up. Once Miles reluctantly accepts the request, he begins receiving friend suggestions from ‘God.’ Each new friend is, indeed, a friend in need. Reminiscent of two of our favorite shows, Touched by and Angeland Early Edition, each episode revolves around Miles and his friends trying to help the person God has thrust into their lives.
Why do I love this show so much? There are several reasons. Read more →
Please don’t think I mean any disrespect to those in the Florida Panhandle or that I am diminishing what they are going through. Rather, I greatly sympathize with them, for they are facing a far greater storm than most of us do in our daily lives. However, I can’t help but think that what has happened with hurricane Michael is the perfect analogy for what often happens to us at certain times in our lives.
Sometimes, we are perfectly happy living a carefree life with blue skies over head and the sun beating down upon us. Even though there might be some warning signs, and those who voice caution, we have no worries because everything is running smoothly and going our way. Then, all of a sudden, we wake up one morning to the news that a category 4 hurricane with 104mph sustained winds is barreling upon us. With barely enough time to register what is happening, we are forced to go into survival mode.
What are we to do during these times of impending disaster? Where do we turn for help? Do we turn for help? Do we buckle down, sequester ourselves, and declare that we are going to wage this war on our own? Or do we look for help, realizing that there are times in life when the storm is too great, the winds are too strong, and the clouds are too dark for us to fight it alone?
It is during those times that I find I need my family and friends more than ever. But more than my friends and family, I need God. Who better to lead me safely through the storm than He who parts the seas, calms the waves, and turns the dark into day?
It’s easy to forget, when everything is going well, that life has its share of sorrows. When I’m at my happiest, enjoying time with friends, someone I know and love may be suffering. When others are full of joy, I may be grieving. Life is full of ups and downs. We all experience happiness as well as sadness. We experience comfort as well as pain. Though we may be filled and satisfied today, we may feel empty and disconsolate tomorrow. At the top of the the Mount of Beatitudes
I’ve been thinking about the highs and lows of life over the past few days, so today’s Gospel reading, from Luke 6: 20-26, really hit home with me. Most people are familiar with the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, but not everyone knows the Sermon on the Plain in Luke. The two are actually the same (those who have visited the Holy Land understand how a mount and a plain can be one in the same); however Luke adds more of Jesus’ teachings to his telling. In Luke, Jesus continues his sermon by saying,
But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. But woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep.
Of course, the Fathers of the Church, those who decided on the rotation of the daily Mass readings, had no way of knowing that I needed this reminder today, but the Holy Spirit works in ways we aren’t meant to understand. I needed to know that sometimes laughter can be turned into sorrow because it reminds me that often, pain can lead to joy, tragedy can lead to good, a brick wall can lead to a new start on a new road.Read more →
This past Sunday’s first reading told us how, after eating eating and drinking, Elijah was strengthened for his forty day journey to Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19:4-8). It was a good reading for me because Sunday was the last full day of our journey to Mexico City to visit the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe. You may remember that, three years ago, Ken and I participated in apilgrimage to the Holy Land, There, we met a group of pilgrims who have increasingly become more family than friends. We try to get together several times a year, and often, our get-togethers revolve around our Catholic faith. This past weekend, many of our pilgrim family spent five days journeying to the religious sites and churches in Mexico City, praying, celebrating Mass, and enjoying the short time we had together.Read more →
“Weep not for me; but weep for yourselves and for your children” (Luke 23:28). Those words have been haunting me for the past 24 hours. I hear them in the silence. I see them being said when I close my eyes. To whom were these words directed? What do they mean? Of course, they were being said to the women of Jerusalem who wept for Jesus along the Way of Sorrows; but they were directed, not only to those women, but to all future generations, to all of us. Many of us worry about our futures, about our children, and about this world. What will happen? What can we do? Those questions lead me to another familiar set of words that are perhaps more important to keep in mind: “Make me a channel of your peace” (Prayer of St. Francis). I realize it takes more than just one person to make a change in this world as big as the one we need, but didn’t it also take just one person to start the ball rolling towards violence and hate? Every road to hate begins with just one person, one remark made from a high office, from a protest march, from a political stage, even from an altar. Once one person begins spewing hate and destruction, isn’t it just one small step for others to jump on the bandwagon? And no matter how many voices are shouting in hate, it only takes one person to carry it out. It took one person to assassinate Lincoln, one person to assassinate Kennedy, one person to assassinate Martin Luther King Jr, one person to shoot Ronald Reagan. So why can’t it take just one person to begin the journey toward peace? Read more →
Recently, I visited the Holy Lands and made the Palm Sunday walk down the Mount of Olives. One of our stops along the route was Dominus Flevit, where Jesus wept for Jerusalem. On that hillside were thorn trees that are believed to have been the same type of thorns used to crown Jesus at the beginning of His passion. The size and thickness of those thorns was staggering, and the vision has not left me. In fact, I have been almost fixated on those thorns for weeks now, and I think I have finally figured out why.
For years, I pictured those thorns the same way most of us probably pictured them, like thorns from a rose bush or a blackberry bush. Those annoying, little thorns that catch on your clothes as you walk by, and prick your finger when you try to cut off a rose or gather a bucket of berries. Never had I imagined the thorns as anything other than small nuisances. Yes, they were sharp, and yes, they would have drawn blood and caused pain, but in comparison to everything else that Jesus went through, were they really all that bad? Was I ever wrong about that! I can barely stomach the thought of those long, thick, sharp-as-a-spear thorns digging into Jesus’ scalp, his forehead, his skull. But that’s not the worst of it, not at all the reason why I can’t let the image go. Read more →
This evening, I had the pleasure of witnessing the reflection of the setting sun on the Sea of Galilee. It was a dream come true for me, and as I watched the sun sinking deeper toward the water, I thought about the reflection it was casting and the reflection that I cast in my daily life. Each of us has two reflections. We all see the reflection that greets us when we stand in front of a mirror, looking both our best and our worst, always trying to fix this piece of hair or that streak of makeup. But there is a reflection that we cast which is only seen by the outside world. I can’t help but wonder what I would see if I saw my reflection the way others do.
If I were to gaze upon my own self, through the eyes of another, would I see the person I see in my mirror, or someone I wouldn’t recognize at all? Do I treat others the way I treat myself in the mirror? Do I smile at them? Am I caring and compassionate? Do I always try to put the needs of others before my own? Do others see my flaws and recognize that I’m trying to fix them, or do they see those things I’m trying to hide – the me that is far from perfect, my impatience, the way I sometimes cast my own judgement on others, my arrogance? Read more →
A favorite song of mine has been running through my mind all morning. It’s called On Eagles Wings, and it reminds us that no matter what we are going through, God is there for us. Life can be hard. We never know what curve ball will be thrown our way. Three nights ago, a friend of mine from high school lost her long struggle with cancer. She was 45, unmarried, and without children. She had so much life still to live! This morning, our world was rocked with the news that another family friend has passed on. Even more tragic, this young man was just twenty-one years old; his life was only just beginning. My friend died knowing that she was being held, as the song and Psalm say, “in the palm of His hand.” The young man did not, and I wonder if that would have made all the difference.
At every moment of our lives, we are being held in the palm of God’s hand. Whether we are feeling peace or loss, profound joy or the deepest grief, God is there. Even in the times when we do not feel His presence, He is there. As the Footprints poem says, it is at the times when we need Him the most, that God carries us. I know that I have relied on this belief many times in my life, and my wish for you is that you know that you are always “in the palm of His hand.”
Amy Schisler is an author of mystery and suspense novels. Her first book, A Place to Call Home may be purchased in stores, online, and through ibooks. Her previously published children’s book, Crabbing With Granddad may be purchased in stores and on Amazon.
There has been a lot of talk around our house the last couple of days about giving things up. I’ve read Facebook posts by many friends extolling the giving up of bad habits, cravings, and addictions. This morning, I read a blog post about an endeavor called “40 Bags in 40 Days” in which participants pledge to declutter every day for 40 days. The decluttering can be of everything from closets to email inboxes. The key is to get rid of unwanted and unneeded “stuff.”
I’m sure each one of us can name something in our lives worth giving up for 40 days, or perhaps forever. My prayers go out to my brother-in-law who is giving up smoking. Many know what a cross that is to bear, so I’m sure prayers would be greatly appreciated, which brings me to a question I have always asked myself. Is it better to give something up or do something new spiritually? I’ve struggled with this over the years. The whole concept of giving things up is completely lost on me unless there is a real reason to do so. Giving things up just to herald that you’ve done so just doesn’t seem to be the point of all of this. I heard a priest, who has a radio show, say recently that when you give something up, you should use that extra time, money, space, etc. to do something good, help others, give to the poor, or otherwise allow someone else to benefit from your sacrifice. And that’s really the key isn’t it? Sacrifice. We aren’t supposed to be trying to lose weight or have a cleaner closet. The point is to sacrifice, to rid ourselves of the things that are making us unworthy in the eyes of God.
So, yes, I will be giving things up this year, and yes, they will be the regular things you’d expect – sweets and wine. However, I’m going to take it a step further. I’m giving up all restaurant food except for salad (a huge sacrifice since we tend to eat out more than the normal family). What I’ve struggled with is how to make that into something spiritual that benefits others around me. What have I come up with? I will find the one thing on the menu that I want more than anything else, note the cost, and donate that amount to a good cause. It may be an extra drop in the basket at church or a donation to Feed the Poor. Whatever it is, I know that my sacrifice will be helping someone else and hopefully will help me in my journey home.
What are you giving up for Lent?
Amy Schisler is an author of mystery and suspense novels. Her first book, A Place to Call Home may be purchased in stores, online, and through ibooks. Her previously published children’s book, Crabbing With Granddad may be purchased in stores and on Amazon.
Earlier this week, my daughter told me that she had decided not to get her father a new wallet for Christmas. “It’s too personal, and I’m afraid I’d get him one he won’t like.” I started thinking about my own wallet. For many years, my wallet served a dual purpose. It held money and necessary ID cards, but it also held beloved photos of my family. As a child, this photo of my aunt and my grandparents was the first one I was given to put in my wallet, and it stayed there for the next thirty years. It was very special to me, a reminder of the special relationship I shared with all three of them (and still share with my Aunt Debbie today).
Of course, I have found plenty of ways to fill my time! And I can’t wait to share with you the best experience I’ve had in a long time. 
A few years ago, I 
Yesterday, my daughter, my mother-in-law, and I went to see the new live-action release of 
Father Early’s Homily really struck a chord with me. He likened life to a class in school. He said that, ideally, when we go to class, we work to achieve As; however, Father told us that we should work hard to achieve all Fs in the class of life.
Recently, I visited the Holy Lands and made the Palm Sunday walk down the Mount of Olives. One of our stops along the route was Dominus Flevit, where Jesus wept for Jerusalem. On that hillside were thorn trees that are believed to have been the same type of thorns used to crown Jesus at the beginning of His passion. The size and thickness of those thorns was staggering, and the vision has not left me. In fact, I have been almost fixated on those thorns for weeks now, and I think I have finally figured out why.
nights ago, a friend of mine from high school lost her long struggle with cancer. She was 45, unmarried, and without children. She had so much life still to live! This morning, our world was rocked with the news that another family friend has passed on. Even more tragic, this young man was just twenty-one years old; his life was only just beginning. My friend died knowing that she was being held, as the song and Psalm say, “in the palm of His hand.” The young man did not, and I wonder if that would have made all the difference.
You must be logged in to post a comment.