He Never Misses

Category: Catholicism

  • Is Hell Empty, or is it Crowded?

    Deadly sinsRecently, I was asked to write an editorial style article on the topic of sin.  In essence, the assignment was to share what is sin, from my perspective here at the back of the carpool line.

    I began by pounding out paragraphs containing several fairly impressive adjectives essentially describing sin as whatever separates us from God.  I then consulted the Catechism as it relates to “venial” vs “mortal” sin.  Nothing in the writing moved my heart whatever.  I simply wasn’t “feeling it”.  Hmm.

    My own struggle with this topic seems to be that I am interiorly restless as it relates to this fundamental question of sin—especially as it relates to eternity.  Do I believe we are all sinners?  YES.  Do I believe Jesus died to save us from our sin?  YES.  Do I believe we are FREE to choose God or choose to curse His holy name?  YES.

    Assuming you are still with me, let’s engage in some speculative theology for a moment.  Is hell empty, or is it crowded?

    The Catechism of the Catholic Church states: “The teaching of the Church affirms the existence of hell and its eternity. Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend into hell, where they suffer the punishments of hell, ‘eternal fire.’ The chief punishment of hell is eternal separation from God, in whom alone man can possess the life and happiness for which he was created and for which he longs” (CCC 1035).

    “Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.  For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” (Mt 7:13-14)

    All of this is rather heavy stuff for a gal such as yours truly whose faith is strong but simple.  As a mom, I love my boys.  They make many mistakes, and still I stubbornly love them.  That inherent, God-given, and sometimes irrational, foolish love seems to me the example Christ provides in my life to help me grasp how much He must love me.   The words of Christ on the cross to the good thief are also a clear sign which moves my spirit to hopefulness as it relates to the great love of God and our hope for eternal life.

    My small minded, baseball-mom thinking boils down to this.  “If I love these sweaty, stinky boys so much, and NO MATTER WHAT and can’t imagine not wanting them near me….how much MORE must OUR AWESOME GOD desire the same of all His children?”

    Further, the Catholic Church has made numerous proclamations about people in heaven—the saints!  It has never made a similar proclamation of even one person being condemned to hell, because we Catholics commend all people to the mercy of God.

    So, even though some of my Catholic “heroes”, who were clearly brilliant and divinely inspired people (examples such as Sts. Thomas Aquinas and Augustine) believed and wrote extensively about how few  the “elect”, and even though Jesus spoke about that narrow gate, I choose to put my trust in the love of God.

    At the end of the day, here’s what I learned from my assignment on “sin”.  It makes a ton of sense that my tolerance of myself and my own sinfulness is very much a pendulum which runs from nearly presumptuous patience to fairly reproachful scrupulosity.

    After all, part of me wonders if only the “lucky” who live a good life and who quit breathing shortly after the perfect confession will see God forever.  HOWEVER, the larger part of me is much more Universalist.  Perhaps that’s naïve, overly hopeful, or presumptive.  Perhaps it’s just my way—BUT– as the simple and usually sunny mayor of “Shellyville”, I choose hope.  I hope that I will live in eternal happiness with God.  I hope He will fill me with enough grace that I will love Him enough to repent for my sins large and small.  I hope I will do so more out of love than fear.

    Bishop Fulton Sheen said this, “Conscience tells us when we do wrong so we feel on the inside as if we have broken a bone.  The bone hurts because it is not where it ought to be.”

    With all the authority I have as mayor of (very) sparsely populated Shellyville, I move that we all pray for properly formed consciences, through which the Holy Spirit will encourage us after each mistake to turn towards our God and walk in HIS light once more, like little children, submitting to the will of our loving Father, simply because He is our Father and He knows best.

    I choose hope.

  • Send Your Card to Newtown

    This reached me and was felt in the most interior places in my heart.  As difficult as it is, I hope that you will appreciate seeing it and be moved to pray.  And buy a stamp.

    I received this from Fr. Christopher Roberts of St. Alphonsus Catholic Church in Zionsville, Indiana.  The note below is from the sister of Fr. Luke Suarez, Associate Pastor at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church in Newtown, CT.

    priests-weepingFrom the sister of the Associate Pastor at St. Rose of Lima:

    My friends, All of you, I am sure, have heard so much about the tragedy in Newtown, CT. Many of you have received emails from me about my younger brother, Father Luke Suarez, who is a priest at St. Rose of Lima parish, a Catholic church just down the road from Sandy Hook Elementary. He, and his pastor, Monsignor Weiss, arrived at the school within moments of the shooting, and have been caring for the community ever since. The picture I have included was taken at the school.

    Father Luke has an impossible task before him. His diocese is without a bishop right now…. Monsignor … is personally devastated by the losses. The parish is very large…. The rectory has received serious threats, and as my brother gave the homily Sunday at the noon mass, the church had to be evacuated by SWAT teams. After experiencing identity theft and online hacking incidents, he had to erase all of his internet accounts. After a weekend of endless media requests, notifications and vigils with heartbroken families, and little sleep, he now has two wakes and two funerals every day, until the fourth Sunday of Advent. Father Luke has not even been ordained two years.

    My large family has been trying to send Father Luke our love and support from afar, and one of my brothers was able to visit with him briefly a couple times. All he asks for is prayer. I have been wracking my brain, trying to think of a way that our beautiful, loving community could tangibly reach out to Father Luke, Monsignor Weiss, and the St. Rose parish, to support them in this most awful of times. I have sent many prayer requests, and I am asking for more prayers again. But I also want to ask everyone to search their hearts, and if the Holy Spirit moves you,please consider sending one of your family’s Christmas cards to the rectory, with a few words of love and encouragement. Here is his address:

    Father Luke Suarez

    46 Church Hill Road

    Newtown, CT 06470

    My brother has said over and over again that without the prayer support he is receiving, he could not keep going. And this week is only the beginning. Everyone there is still in shock. Their peaceful home has been desecrated by violence. They will need to live with this sorrow forever.

    But in our weakness is His strength. Grace abounds. Can you help me carry him through this time of trial? On a hopeful note, Father Luke did say that no media coverage has even touched the deep, beautiful awakening of faith that has occurred there. Their tiny church, where my children have received sacraments and where Luke was ordained, has been full of people in prayer without ceasing since this tragedy happened. Love is stronger than death. Please feel free to share the address with your family, friends, and community. An outpouring of love will sustain these good priests through their impossible ministry–impossible on their own, but possible with God. I am so grateful to live in this community. We are all so blessed with one another. Every day, I see you all loving one another as Christ loved.

    Thank you for letting me reach out to you now.

    With humble appreciation.

  • Holy Silence at OLMC

    Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Parish, Carmel, IN

    Today, I returned to a place I had vowed to avoid—the perpetual adoration chapel at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel (OLMC).  OLMC is conveniently situated a couple of miles to the west of my son’s high school, Guerin Catholic.   It’s much closer if you want to make 8am mass after carpool than my own parish—which I want to state for the record that I love– before you read on.

    Still, I have been steering clear of OLMC.  Allow me to explain.

    Several months ago, I visited the OLMC chapel during my son’s baseball practice which was nearby.  40 minutes or so with Jesus would be good, I thought.  So, as I walked in there, I think I spot a friend (which I am not expecting since it’s not my parish)….so I am distracted a bit.  One hand is in holy water, the other holding my purse, and my shoes are damp from the wet pavement.  All this and I am attempting to genuflect.  I fall right on my rear.  I kind of land half in the lap of some old gray haired guy.  I take a big, dramatic, humiliating tumble.

    The man is worried am I ok, and I get up as quick as I can, find a seat, and just put my head down hoping to never raise it again.  My cell phone starts to buzz.  I drop it on the floor grabbing for it, and parts scatter.  No one is praying at this point, and I am officially a menace.  There were probably 15 people in that chapel.  It was a full house.

    Then, a woman says, “let us pray together the litany of humility”.  The gray hair comes toward me, puts his hand on my back, kind of rubs it….and hands me the prayer.  He whispers, “maybe you want to pray along.”

    Humiliating?  Yes.

    For the unfamiliar, here is the dreadful prayer.

    LITANY OF HUMILITY

    O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
    From the desire of being esteemed,
    Deliver me, Jesus.

    From the desire of being loved…
    From the desire of being extolled …
    From the desire of being honored …
    From the desire of being praised …
    From the desire of being preferred to others…
    From the desire of being consulted …
    From the desire of being approved …
    From the fear of being humiliated …
    From the fear of being despised…
    From the fear of suffering rebukes …
    From the fear of being calumniated …
    From the fear of being forgotten …
    From the fear of being ridiculed …
    From the fear of being wronged …
    From the fear of being suspected …

    That others may be loved more than I,
    Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

    That others may be esteemed more than I …
    That, in the opinion of the world,
    others may increase and I may decrease …
    That others may be chosen and I set aside …
    That others may be praised and I unnoticed …
    That others may be preferred to me in everything…
    That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

    I decided after that day that the people of OLMC deserve a break from yours truly.  A permanent break.

    Today, I returned to morning mass at OLMC because a friend wanted company.  I admit my own tank was a little low, as was my enthusiasm.

    But then, I arrived.  As I walked in, I remembered they observe a beautiful holy silence in their chapel and in the church.  Jesus is present in the tabernacle behind the altar, and also in the perpetual adoration chapel nearby.  You cannot miss this fact, because you feel the respect of everyone present by their observance of silence.

    As with most daily masses everywhere I’ve been, morning mass is quick at OLMC, but here it’s not rushed.  The friend who accompanied me noticed a “special vibe” in that place.  She noticed it after mass in the chapel where we prayed kneeling next to each other.  She noticed it in the beautiful wall tapestries which contain images of several saints.  Most of all, she noticed it in the amazing numbers of parishioners who were present to receive the Eucharist and to pray in His presence in the chapel.  Joy was palpable on her face and in my own heart too from the lovely grace-filled morning.

    This is when I had today’s light bulb moment.

    Gathering as a community does not make a group holy, any more than attending mass makes an individual holy.  God uses grace as a tool to mold His church, to correct her, to grant us a collective passion for others, and to enable us to love Him, each other and the world.  Some means of grace are personal—like solitude, or the sacrament of reconciliation.  Others are corporate—like the mass—or a Jesus loving parish who welcomes visitors with the gift of holy silence and their collective witness of faith.  It’s about doing small things with great love, just as Mother Teresa famously said.

    People of OLMC, my hat is off today to you.

    Thank you for preparing for mass in prayerful silence.  Thank you for sharing your well prepared priest, Fr. Adam Mauman, and for the witness of the reverent server (whose name I do not know).  Thank you for reaching with two hands at the sign of peace.  Thank you for sharing your sunshine filled adoration chapel.  Thank you for knowing all the words to “Sanctus” in Latin.  I’d like to learn them.   It was all beautiful.

    I left OLMC having received bread for the journey, my empty tank refilled and my heart renewed today with love of Jesus I saw in those around me.

    “If only one little child is made happy with the love of Jesus…will it not be worth…..giving all for that?”  Mother Teresa

  • Helping after the Fire

    Kelly Hauschild, you are loved!

    Bear one another’s burdens and so you will fulfill the law of Christ. (Gal 6:2)

    Two days ago, I posted the following note on my Facebook page, and initially, it was emailed it to the 7th grade families at my son’s school, St. Louis de Montfort Catholic School (SLDM), in Fishers, Indiana.

     SLDM Friends,

     Over the weekend, SLDM teacher, Kelly Hauschild, who teaches 7th and 8th graders, suffered a house fire. She has a large family (7 in all) and they are now in a hotel until temporary housing can be secured. I am collecting money tomorrow morning in front of church before mass (I have a light blue minivan), and also in the narthex after mass for this family. In addition, I will be in the carpool line tomorrow afternoon (Wed. 14th). If any of you would like to make a contribution, I will add your generosity to our “gift card” fund. We are getting gift cards to a few restaurants as well as a superstore where she can get needed food, clothing, and household items as they are necessary in the next several weeks. I’m putting a short leash on the collection time frame so that I can get her the gift cards by Thursday. I realize that many of you have young children and haven’t met Kelly yet. As a parent of 2 children Kelly has taught the ins and outs of Algebra, Geometry and Religion over the past 3 years, I can tell you she is an outstanding and faith filled woman. I know she will be humbled and truly grateful for any support from the SLDM family. If you are unable to assist monetarily, that is absolutely fine. Your prayers will be needed and appreciated as well!! Feel free to pass this along to anyone you think who might like to help.

    Now, it’s Thursday.  Help came.

    Will $3000 worth of gift cards and cash magically solve the challenges faced by the Hauschild family?  Of course it won’t.  They have months of recovery ahead of them, temporary housing to locate, a home to rebuild and a Thanksgiving and Christmas around the corner that no longer looks as they wish and certainly not as they anticipated.

    If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.  –Mother Teresa

    A hastily gathered gift, given in love, will hopefully help bridge the gap until insurance paperwork and inevitable red tape leads to actual assistance, a temporary housing solution and life back on track.  Kelly’s co-workers and the administration at SLDM are collecting funds, and clothing is being gathered as we speak for the children.  When I saw Kelly and Jeff yesterday, her jacket covered in ashes from sifting through the damaged house,  and him with a harrowing story of escaping the house during the fire, I could clearly see there will be an ongoing need for help.  I am certain it will be forthcoming.

    BUT.  To me, here’s the silver lining.

    Yesterday, in ONE DAY, with no time to think, the amazing people of St. Louis de Montfort wrapped Kelly, Jeff and their 5 children in love.  They simply rolled down their car windows and emptied their wallets, no questions asked, to do what they can.

    My beloved faith community– YOU were the face of Christ.

    The Kingdom of God is among you. (LK 17:21). 

    One of my favorite authors and homilists, the charmingly abrasive Fr. Larry Richards, said this morning via Twitter, “We are to bring God’s kingdom to everyone—He is within you so show Him today!”

    And that is just what you did, SLDM.  I am so proud to call you friends.  Nicely done.

    Prayers continue.

  • If Jesus is Batman…

    “Are you kidding me?  You’re telling me when we put the Flavor-ice popsicles in the freezer THAT is condensation?  You put them in the FREEZER to FREEZE them!! This is ridiculous!!  I am not going to help you if you aren’t even going to try!”  — Me, to my 8 year old son

    Suffice it to say, the brilliant and patient science teachers of the world need not fear I am coming for their jobs any time soon.  Further, my general homework/studying philosophy to date has gone something like this, “I already passed the 7th grade, now it’s your turn.”

    Have I helped renovate a science fair board, or given myriad spelling pretests, or assisted in researching the culture and political situation in Azerbaijan?  Heck yeah.  Have I edited essays and worn a path to our local CVS on endless supply runs?  Absolutely.

    Here’s the thing.  On rodeo #3, I seem to have fallen off the horse.  This is a horse of another color, you might say.  We have only just begun, and I am frustrated, and I am worried.

    Here’s my inner dialogue.  A good mom would know what to do.  A loving parent would have patient and loving answers and interactions. A God-filled mother would know how to close the gap caused by frustration and insecurity and would persevere confidently in the direction of success with her child.

    Me?  I yelled.  I lost my patience.  I wanted to do something else, anything else.  I shared this with a friend this week, and then confessed I prayed, asking Mary for assistance.  My non-Catholic friend said, “Mary?”  I said, “Yes, Mary, The mother Jesus?”

    “Ahh….THAT Mary!  You Catholic girls.  I don’t get the Mary thing.  When I need a filling, I don’t dial up my Dentist’s mom, Shelly.  Can you talk to me about what the story is with Mary?”

    I wanted my friend’s consolation.  Affirmation was the goal, then I wanted to head to Marsh for decongestant.  Apologetics was not on my mind.  I instantly recalled a great comment made by a friend several years ago at a CRHP meeting and I flippantly replied, “If Jesus is Batman, then Mary has the Bat phone.”

    Giggling.

    “Shelly.  Why not just pray to Jesus to help you be the mom you want to be?  That I would get.”

    Then, we proceeded to have this surprising interaction.  I asked her why it is that she asks me to pray for her, for her parents, and for others in her life who are struggling.   We talked about how lots of people ask others to pray for them.  Why do we do that?  Why not just talk to Jesus?

    I think there are a couple of reasons.  First of all, we don’t live on an island.  We need our friends.  Others have compassion that we need to help us through this life, they stand in the gap for us—they intercede.  Our friends, family members– all can be helps in our relationship with Jesus.

    Second of all, and this is a new revelation to me.  My Lutheran friend said to me “Well, I don’t pray to dead people.”

    Here’s where the conversation ended for today, but I have been thinking about it ever since.

    I should have said, “People in heaven are alive.  This is what I believe.”  It’s a fundamental belief that I mistakenly took for granted entering into the chat.

    I think of Mary as the original prayer warrior.  She doesn’t say much in the bible, but she does tell us that her role forever to the end of the ages is to magnify Jesus.

    Let’s keep in mind here that like most good cradle Catholics I have encountered, I know virtually zero about scripture.  BUT…..I am familiar with the Magnificat.

    My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior.  For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness, behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.  The Mighty one has done great things for me, and holy is his name.  His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him.  He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.  He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones, but lifted up the lowly.  The hungry he has filled with good things, the rich he has sent away empty.  He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy, according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and his descendants forever. (Luke 1:46-55)

    So, reading this, which is just lovely and beautiful playing in my head as a song, it seems self-evident to me that praying for her intercession isn’t worship and it cannot take focus away from the one who saved us—her son!  In eternity, her sole job in my simple mind is to lead us to Him.

    Does it diminish our relationship with Jesus to have devotion to Mary or enjoy Marian prayers?  If it’s useful for our friends on earth to pray for us, then isn’t it possible those in heaven are even more equipped?  I mean, who do you ask to pray for you when you REALLY need prayer?  The holiest people you know, right??  Devotion to Mary doesn’t deify Mary…..it simply indicates incredible respect.

    Writing this post about Mary was my way of making amends to her son, who I love, for the flippant initial response when I encountered the opportunity to chat with my friend about the queen of heaven.

    We do not slight the son when we honor the mother.  –St. Louis de Montfort

    I feel like its possible God wasn’t really all that interested in consoling me about my poor behavior or soothing my bruised little feelings.   I concede it’s more than probable that all of this was God’s way of pointing me to the greatest example of motherhood that exists.

    Lucky for me, the greatest mother ever always takes calls from her children outside normal business hours.

    Hail Mary, full of grace…..

  • All Saints Day: Loving Catholic Schools

    I wrote this article, below, on behalf of St. Louis de Montfort Catholic School, at the request of our amazing Walk-a-thon chairs and my terrific friends, Meg Ryder and Angie Watson.  We’ve held this event for many years, but they have taken it to a whole new level of fun and meaning while still raising funds vitally necessary for the sustenance of our parish school.  Catholic schools everywhere couldn’t make it without supportive volunteers who pour time, funds and their hearts into these schools where our children are able to have daily conversations with and about Christ, grow in character and integrity.  One day soon I’ll write an article exclusively about why I love Catholic schools.  I’ll talk about things like 2nd graders wearing shirts that say “Run, Jump, Play but Do Not Sin! –St. John Bosco” and kids stopping class to say the rosary for a classmate starting chemo.

    Until then, I offer this article for today,  All Saint’s Day,

    SLDM Walk-a-Thon, 2012

    to all the Catholic school volunteers giving of themselves, and all the parents sacrificing for the truly worthy effort of making certain a faith filled Catholic education is available at terrific Roman Catholic institutions all over this amazing country.  You can spot them easily.  They all generally have names like “All Saint’s Academy”, “St. Lawrence”, “St. Mary’s”, “St. Boniface”, or “St. Louis de Montfort”!  KEEP THE FAITH, ALL!  Our Catholic schools are a treasure!

    Missionaries in the Mirror:  SLDM Walk-a-Thon

    School aged children have a special knack for focusing on fun.  In the fall, most of the kiddos in our neck of the woods look forward to things like Friday night football games or what costume to wear while “trick-or-treating”. Students at St. Louis de Montfort (SLDM) in Fishers, Indiana, also mark the days eagerly awaiting the annual SLDM “Walk-a-thon”.

    Yes, the event is a fundraiser.  Oh, but it is so much more!

    The goal of the event is to help the children learn how to love, learn, and lead in the community.  This year’s theme, as captured by students who created the event logo, was “Faith-Filled Footsteps”. The idea is to assist students in learning by action, how to become healthy in body, mind, and spirit.

    Catholic writer, Jennifer Rey, recently wrote “the essence of the Church’s evangelizing mission is to simply help people, not necessarily convert them.  Conversion is important, but we are called first and foremost to love and to serve.”  The message is one the students at SLDM have been living through their beloved walk-a-thon for several years.  We are all called to see ourselves as missionaries.  Children of any age can pray, smile, help, and engage others.

    Partnering with Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital at St. Vincent (PMCH), students and staff at SLDM are each assigned a prayer partner.  These are sick children being treated at the nearby Indianapolis hospital.  Students are given the patient name, age and condition.  They wear that partner’s information around their neck (this year on dog tags) during the weeks leading up to the actual day of the walk.  They gather items from nearby neighborhoods to give to patients from their wish lists, and they pray for their partners.

    Associate pastor, Fr. John Kiefer, spiritually challenged the students to demonstrate actions of love, learning, or leading like Jesus for which they earned plastic balls to place in two story high tubes!  How amazing it was to see their acts of compassion and leadership grow to the 2nd floor of the school!  It was a terrific visual which spoke loudly about how much we can accomplish!

    In addition to the community partnership with PMCH, pledges were gathered by students for each step they took during the walk, which will be used to assist the parish school in its mission of providing a quality Catholic education for its 475 students.  Principal Annette Jones and Vice-Principal Janet Andriole added to the fun by providing an “incentive” to the students.  If the student body reached its fundraising goal of $35,000, their administrators would wear the costumes chosen by students during “Walk-a-Thon” week.  It was silly fun to see Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Andriole dressed in costumes all day! The top student fundraiser earned an Ipad3 for himself, and one for his prayer partner, a 12-yr old girl named Laike, from Kokomo, Indiana. Sponsors helped defray the costs.

    During the Walk-a-Thon day itself, students created signed pictures to deliver to their prayer partners, they lifted up their intentions by writing them and placing them on a 6ft tall, 3-D cross, there were team building activities, songs, and of course the walk/run itself!  Pastor Fr. Pat Click in his “Fr. Pat Challenge” urged students to go the extra mile, to push and sacrifice for others as they walked and ran!

    The event raised a total of $43,000 for the school.  More than that, it taught the students that they don’t have to go to Calcutta like Mother Teresa to make a difference.  They just need to see the missionary in the mirror.

  • The Great State of Arizona

    Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona, AZ

    George Weigel, a Roman Catholic theologian and author, has written several extraordinary books.  One of these marvelous works is titled “Letters to a Young Catholic.”  In it, Weigel covers what it means to live a faith filled life for those of us who are curious, searching, or even doubtful.  His account is remarkably lucid, and much of what he said resonates, leaving me with a distinct sense of gratefulness for my faith tradition, and hopefulness for the future.  I recommend the book heartily to all.

    Having just returned from a rather spectacular long weekend with my family in Arizona, I find that Letter 12 of this book rings particularly true.  The title of this particular letter is “Chartres Cathedral, France—What Beauty Teaches Us.”  The point that Weigel makes here while taking the reader on a tour of a place he cites as one of the most striking that exists is that beauty is a powerful antidote to self-absorption.  Like Weigel upon visiting Chartres, there is for me something overwhelming and ethereal about the “Red Rock” area of Arizona that it renders me speechless.  Like him, I had the sense as I spied for the second time the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona that I was praying without words simply being present.  The chapel was created by artist and sculptor, Marguerite Brunswig Staude.  She imagined it as “a monument to faith, a spiritual fortress so charged with God, that it spurs man’s spirit Godward!”

    Oh, how she succeeded.

    Beautiful places, in particular, draw me out of myself.  Sky so blue there isn’t a bright enough crayon to capture it, surrounded by imposing red thousand foot high rock walls all around me, well, they help me realize that the master sculptor has created something so marvelous I simply could never grasp it.  There’s no way to tire of this kind of magnificence.  My 8 yr old son called it “crazy”.  My 15 year old said “I think I took 50 pictures here, Mom.”  My 12 year old simply sat with his jaw open the entire time we were in the Oak Creek Canyon area.  Tom had me ask a stranger to get a photograph of the five of us in the midst of it all, and then, after a round of golf on a mountainside course with our kids he said, “I want to stay another day.”  Says Weigel,  “Beauty is something that even the most skeptical moderns can know.  People know that they know what’s beautiful.”

    All of this and experiences like these, of course, are God’s grace at work in my life and yours.

    When I was a girl, my parish school was teaming with the smiles of Franciscan sisters.  It seems truly ironic now how I thought they were the loveliest people with the most unfortunate and misguided beauty sensibilities.  I wondered, quite frankly, who chose the brown? The irony is that I remember too walks outside this time of the year with Sister Julie Marie and my entire class at St. Lawrence.  She would point out the many old trees lining the side streets near our school which were so brilliantly glowing red, orange and yellow.  She didn’t have to tell us how beautiful they were, we couldn’t miss them.  That would be like forgetting to notice the sunshine.  When we arrived back in our classroom, she would always say, “God is beauty, huh?”  Turns out those gals in brown knew everything about beauty.

    In Weigel’s book, he reminds us of St. Augustine, who famously takes himself to task for taking so long to confront his doubts and conform his life to Christ.  He “exults in his surrender to the God who is beauty itself” pens Weigel.

    Late have I loved thee, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved thee!  You were within, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.  In my unlovliness I plunged into lovely things which you created.  You were with me, but I was not with you.  Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all.  You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.  You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.  You breathed your fragrance over me; I drew in my breath and now I pant for you.  I have tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for more.  You touched me, and I burned for your embrace. –St. Augustine

    If every day was a vacation day spent under the blue skies and sunshine near Phoenix, surrounded by smiling children and a peaceful husband, happily disconnected from his laptop………….well perhaps I would not feel as grateful for the lesson, or the need to recall it later.  Maybe then beauty would simply be part of me.

    Perhaps then, I wouldn’t need the Chapel of the Holy Cross, or Slide Rock State Park, or fall trees filled with bright leaves, or stained glass windows glowing in the sunshine, or Hail Holy Queen played by skillful hands on an old church organ, or sunset over lake Michigan.

    I’m not sure about you, but this human soul has a knack for self-absorption, for getting lost in the everyday.  There are countless antidotes, but since I even like my cough medicine to be cherry flavored, it won’t surprise anyone who knows me to learn the antidote I prefer is the one easiest to swallow.  The next time I am lost in “Shellyville”–self-assertion, self-absorbed world with sentences that all begin “I am”– will someone please remind me to get out my photo album from the October break trip to Arizona?  That should remind me who I am—and who God is.

    “Like Augustine, we burn for the embrace of the Beauty that is always the same and always new.  That burning, which God himself has built into us, is the beginning of every prayer.”  –George Weigel

    AMEN.

    P.S.  Did I mention I had a great vacation?  Tom, Nick, Drew, and Zach…………you guys rock my socks off.  Oh, and God?  Yeah, you really seemed to find your groove artistically when you got busy with the state of Arizona.  Just saying.  Nice work there.  Love you.

  • Some Thoughts from Bed

    David, Zach and Anthony at the apple orchard

    People see God every day, they just don’t recognize him.

    –Pearl Bailey

    A virulent strain of the flu has been overwhelming my family for the past week or so.  It first struck my youngest, Zach.  The next victim of said illness really was my Chrysler Towne and Country, which suffered a rather dreadful fate as child #2 inherited the condition on I-465, about 20 minutes from home.  Within hours of that ugly incident, my husband, Tom, decided his most appropriate resting place was the floor of the master bathroom.  While Tom and Drew lived the worst part of their illness, I was in the driveway taking a hose to the inside of my minivan.  The realization that my stylish rubber gloves were a rather feeble defense against this bug was not far from my mind.  Therefore, it was no surprise when I woke up feeling quite ill this morning at 2am.

    My mind was filled with all the people I was bound to inconvenience with my illness today.  I was supposed to drive my 2nd grader and his classmates to the apple orchard this morning.  I emailed and texted apologies to school teachers and administrators, hoping they would get my message in time.  I had committed to picking up Nick and and his buddy Grant from school and taking them to the last freshman football home game after school today.  That was certainly out.  I apologized as I sent an explanation and an alternative plan to Grant’s mom—from my pillow.  I cancelled the orthodontist appointment.  I cancelled the pitching lessons.   I called on my friend Sara to take over my lunchroom “captaincy” for tomorrow.  400 kids will need to be fed, but I should clearly not touch their food.  I sent a pathetic call for help text to my friend Donna offering $100 for two Excedrin.

    Here’s the thing, though.  God was with me all day long.

    My parents woke up well before dawn and drove an hour to be here with Nick for Grandparents Day at Guerin Catholic High School.  They did this despite the fact that I had called off their sleepover here in Indy, not wanting to expose them to our illness.  As I rested in bed, too unwell to even say hello, I listened as my dad helped Nick get his tie on for the all school mass he and mom had driven so early from Lafayette to attend.

    Despite his lingering symptoms and minor fever, my hard working husband went to work this morning.  Feeling unwell himself, he nevertheless called to check on us, and he offered to take his lunch hour to bring us whatever we might need.  My friend Donna not only brought the medicine, but she let herself in and delivered it right to my bedside.  I think she might have been holding her breath the whole time so as not to inhale our germfest, but she was here.  That’s love.   The terrific 2nd grade teacher I so inconvenienced this morning sent me a get well note and a smiling photo of my baby on a hayride at the apple orchard.  When I emailed a mom new to the our parish and school asking if she might be able to fill in for me in the lunchroom, she apologized that she was unable to fill in, but insisted she was bringing dinner for the family and that she would leave it on the porch.  Two neighbors who have boys in Zach’s Monday night basketball, not even knowing I was ill, called to offer to bring him.  I had just used up the last of my energy taking a shower, trying to figure a way to muster the wherewithal to make it downstairs to take him.  My friend Sara checked in on me and alerted me that she not only would take over for me tomorrow but had found me a substitute as well.  I could go on and on.

    So, despite the rough start and the continuing fatigue, I know too this was a day filled with blessings.  Nausea still has me in its clutches, but I see God loving me.  Mother Teresa is famous for saying we can do no great things, only small things with great love.  My family, friends, and faith community reminded me today of how completely God uses them as instruments of His love in my life.  All those people are God-sends, I thought.

    How idle it is to call certain things God-sends!  As if there was anything else in the world.

    –Augustus William

    St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!

  • Carpe Diem!

    What a crappy day, I thought as I woke yesterday.  Plastic mixing bowls have been commissioned for use by nauseous children on both levels of my home.  Additionally, the caretaker, yours truly, has broken into an unnatural and proliferous sweat, which likely indicates fever.  You moms know the fever I am speaking of, right?  This would be the perspiration laced fever, accompanied by clamminess and fatigue that we pretend doesn’t exist while our children are ill?

    After a sleepless night in and out of the bathroom and multiple late night sheet changing incidents, I was spent.  “Thank God it’s not my carpool day,” I thought as I caught a glimpse of my greasy face and damp matted hair in the mirror, “Zach is finally asleep and I am going back to bed.”

    THUD. SLAM!  “Mom!  Mom, where are you?  Mom!!  My ride didn’t show up.  First period starts in 15 minutes, and I have a quiz in there.  Plus, Sam is shadowing me today.  Mom!!”

    With that, I slipped on a sweatshirt over my pajamas, threw on Tom’s baseball cap, and went to wake my nauseous and feverish little guy.  “Sweet heart.  I’m sorry, honey.  Wake up, Z.   I need you to put on a sweatshirt and some shoes.  We have to take Nick to school.”

    The day and the news just went downhill from there, my mood and energy further devolved, and I found myself with an insane migraine, tearing up in the Target parking lot last night at 9pm.  What a horrible, useless excuse for a day, I whined, as I celebrated my first class pity party.

    I managed to say the desperation prayer.  This is the one I choose when I am at low ebb.  “Jesus, I don’t know what I need, but you do.  Please help me.”

    Help came quickly.  CARPE DIEM.  This is the thought that stuck in my brain.  CARPE DIEM.  Seize the day.

    What you need to know about me is that a thought which sticks in my brain to me is many times one inspired by the Holy Spirit.  I am the original supernatural thinker.  This phrase, Carpe Diem, isn’t just an instruction………..but it’s the reminder of a dear friend.  Her name is Karen.  The two go together like peanut butter and jelly in my mind.  Allow me to explain.   I’ll stop here and start again.  We’ll call this part of today’s blog:

    French Fries

    Every ounce of her Irish Catholic, 110lb, and freckle covered frame is pure defiance.  The mother of three of the most beautiful and respectful children I have ever encountered, Karen nonetheless flaunts authority completely.   There isn’t a single soul who is going to stand in her way.

    If you’ve been wondering who is responsible for the move to newer, tougher policies on absenteeism at school, this is the mom.  If she feels like it’s too ridiculously gorgeous out for kids to be in school, or if she’d rather spend the day hanging out making Christmas candy with her daughter, Sam, then that’s what she does.  If her younger son, Mitch, stayed up too late doing homework and wants to sleep in….then so be it.  He’ll be there later.  You get the idea.

    The seven children in the St. Louis de Montfort carpool from Garden Gate Way had a well worn path back to the office to wait for her big white Chevy Suburban .  They didn’t even bother to call home.  Mrs. Volpe theorizes that children should wait for adults, not vice versa.  Time is valuable.  The office staff never messed with Mrs. Volpe.

    If I’ve painted a rather unfair or lopsided view of my friend to this point, let me self correct for just a moment.  Karen is bigger than life and not a little bit unlike the “Road Runner.”  She can dig out a homemade pirate costume for any child on the block the day before Halloween WHILE she cooks homemade chicken pot pie and measures her living room for new curtains.  Those carpool kids love waiting for her because chances are with the time she saved, she’ll be buying the whole van load of kids DQ on the way home.

    A few years back, after we had been to dinner and a little outdoor community play with a few other couples, Karen quietly snuck away as the rest of us drank margaritas.  She didn’t feel at all well, and ended up in the hospital.  Her symptoms led the doctors to perform an emergency hysterectomy.  Here’s the problem with that.  She didn’t actually need a hysterectomy, because what she really had was Acute Myelogenous Lukemia, or AML.

    In the months and years that followed, we learned that AML isn’t terribly common in otherwise healthy young moms.  The protocol for treatment that existed was written for much older men.  Doctors kind of had to wing it.  Karen proceeded to get very sick.  Her illness was so debilitating that she once came down to watch “Desperate Housewives” with me the night before surgery and she said her goodbyes.  It wasn’t the first time we had done that, but this time it seemed serious.  She had been told the chances of surviving the surgery the next day were simply not good.  She told me where to find the ring I was to give her son William for his future wife, and she showed me where to find the Christmas presents she had purchased in advance so that her children would have something from her this year.  In short, Karen was dying.  We all knew it.  She had defied the odds too many times.  Remission, it seemed for Karen, was merely a temporary term.  The cancer always seemed to return with a vengeance.

    I could bore you with white blood cell count stories and ridiculous tales of graft vs host disease, but I’m frankly not smart enough to do it justice.  Let’s just say it’s just like the Irish to defy the odds.  Karen was too stubborn to die.

    After brain surgery and too many trips to the hospital to remember, and not one but TWO bone marrow transplants (one auto-transplant, and one from her donor brother….thanks TOMMY!), I found myself on “Karen duty”.   Her husband, Mark, had called to tell me that Karen wanted to see me and asked if I could go down to IU Med Center and keep her company this particular Sunday afternoon.

    When I got to the isolation unit, it was the same.  It’s cold and quiet.  It’s sterile and horrible.  Karen had been there more than 30 days this time.  Years had passed that she scarcely remembered.  Ugh.  The nurse came in and gave her the blood counts.  Karen said, “Say that again?”  The nurse repeated the numbers.  Karen said, “Shelly, pack the stuff up, we’re going home!”  The nurse went on to explain how there was no doctor to release her, even if that is what the doctor told her.  But, do you remember what I told you about Karen?  Irish was too stubborn to die, and too stubborn to stay one more minute in that hospital.  She said very matter of factly, “Well, paperwork is your problem.  I’m out of here.”

    As simple as that, I found myself in my van with my very sick, but very hungry friend.  She weighed about 80 lbs soaking wet.  We were 35 minutes from home and not a sole knew we were coming.  It didn’t matter.  Karen wouldn’t even let me call to warn them.  She was hungry.  Karen wanted french fries.

    Who was I to tell this amazing woman who had defied every odd that I wasn’t stopping for fries.  We pulled into McDonalds.  She whispered, “Tell them I’d like a large order of fries with no salt.”

    “Large fries, NO salt please!”

    “M’am, that’s fine, but it’s going to take a moment.  Pull forward please.”  Karen smiled.

    I thought to myself about how Karen probably can’t have salt with all those medications she takes.  I just looked at her and felt at a loss for words.  My heart just ached.

    As I paid for the fries we had waited on, and they handed them out the window to me, Karen said to me, “Can you ask them for salt, please?”

    I looked at her, my eyebrows  in the classic v-shape that speaks utter confusion.  She grinned from ear to ear.

    “Shelly, I’ve been in isolation thinking about these fries for a month.  I wanted them to be hot and fresh!”

    We both just burst out with laughter.  It was a deep from the core of your being giggle between girlfriends.  Gosh that was overdue.  It felt like heaven.

    It’s five years later now, and believe it or not, Karen still lives two doors down, and she still makes me laugh.

    From Karen I learned a lot of valuable lessons.  I’ve gained insight on the cancer world and what it means to face that disease that I wish I did not know.  I gained the knowledge that giving is a gift to the giver so graciousness is called for always in receiving.  I learned about a wonderful and compassionate piece of technology called “Caring Bridge”, and I met the face of courage in the midst of suffering over and over again in my brave friend.  I even learned that we should never take chicken casserole to the “cancer house” without first asking how many casseroles are already in the freezer, and usually the kids would rather have Subway.

    Believe it or not, the most valuable lesson of all that I learned from Karen, though…..well it’s gleaned from the “crazy” rule breaking incident with those hot, delicious, McDonalds fries.  I know it makes her happy to know this is what she has taught me.  There’s never been someone who needed to learn it more than me.  I remembered the blessing of my friend while at Target last night and I recalled the banner that hung in her first hospital room, signed by all who visited.  It was a big yellow sunflower with the words “Carpe Diem, Karen.”

    “Boast not of tomorrow, for you know not what any day may bring forth.” (Prov. 27:1)

    NEVER take yourself or your life too seriously.  Loosen up, lighten up, and CARPE DIEM.

    God’s in charge here.  He’s got this.

    Thank you Jesus.  Thank you, Karen.  I love you, friend.

  • Yeah, Z…You’re Absolutely Right

    This weekend I went to a first reconciliation retreat with my youngest, which at our parish is the first step of sacramental preparation which culminates in receipt of the Eucharist next spring.  Although it’s not my first or even my second rodeo on this retreat, I knew still that it would be a unique experience, because Zach is my pistol.

    Allow me to digress for a moment and explain about the Z-man.

    My 2nd grade son has informed me that this will be the last year of his formal education.  He says he wants to go to school this year, because it’s first communion year and that is pretty cool, but he really knows everything he needs to know and so he thinks 3rd grade is a waste of time.

    When I suggested to him that his grandma, a teacher, thought he might want to “gut it out” for one more year, because multiplication comes in fairly handy, Zach replied, “Umm, iPhones have a calculator.”

    Good argument, I thought.  So, the follow up question I asked was about how he plans to spend all his free time.  His reply, “Well, I’m gonna race in the Tour de France.”

    This response mystified and disturbed Zach’s very bright and pragmatic cousin, Maddie, a 3rd grader.  As I explained the situation to her, she was immediately struck with the practical impossibilities.  First of all, Zach would need a race bike, which he doesn’t have, and additionally, he is way too young for the Tour de France.  Someone should alert him that he doesn’t have all the facts!

    I use this story to illustrate the rub we parents face.

    We know it’s our responsibility to impart to our children all sorts of important things.  For Zach, right now, my job is to help him understand God’s love and forgiveness is always available to us, and that receiving Jesus is the greatest gift God gives us.

    How can I possibly help my child grasp the enormity of all that when his creative and engaged little 8yr old mind has him quitting school after this year to ride a bike across France?   He can’t possibly understand these things which are so ethereal—can he?

    I decided I just have to let go and let God.

    Sunday at mass, Zach knelt next to me.  As Fr. Pat began his prayer of consecration, Zach waited anxiously for his brother, who was serving the mass, to ring the bell.  His eyes were on Nick like a hawk.  Then, he whispered to me, “Now’s when the miracle happens, right mom?”

    A wide smile came across my face.

    “Yeah, Z, you’re absolutely right.”

    “Mom?  How come I have to wait until April to make my first communion?  I think a lot of people don’t know Jesus is here right when consecration happens, but I do!”

    God’s grace rings the bell.  LET GOD.  Amen.  I do believe.

    O Sacred Banquet

    O Sacred banquet, in which Christ is received, the memory of His passion is renewed, the mind is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us.