He Never Misses

Category: Catholicism

  • You are Very Welcome!

    “I have stilled my soul, hushed it like a weaned child.  Like a weaned child on its mother’s lap, so is my soul within me.”  (Ps 131:2)

    I wish.  That sure sounds good, though.

    “Women’s Devotional” was the subject line of the email that contained this scripture passage, from my girlfriend, as I awoke to a gray day in Carmel, Indiana this morning.  Accompanying it there was a brief note that said, “Thanks for being my prayerful friend.”  It followed a lovely note from a second friend yesterday that struck me as ridiculously over the top in terms of gratefulness.  I quickly shot back, “Thanks are unnecessary.”  My instinctual response, interiorly, was one of rejection.  Oh, no, I haven’t done anything to warrant gratitude.  What’s wrong with these friends of mine?  I know they mean to be nice, but I just wish they wouldn’t.  There’s nothing special about me.”

    Then, knowing the priests of the diocese are on retreat this week and that I wouldn’t be attending mass this morning as normal, I looked up the readings for today.  It’s the feast of the Guardian Angels.  How sweet and sentimental, I thought.

    It wasn’t until I read the gospel that I woke up.  He called a child over, placed it in their midst and said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven and whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.”  See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly father.” (Mt. 18)

    In the kingdom of God there exists complete, humble trust in the ways of the Lord.  That’s the path to holiness we are meant to notice this week.  First, there are the Archangels, then my beloved St. Therese of Lisieux with her “little way”, and then finally today the feast of the Guardian Angels.  They might seem all rather mild and sentimental, but I believe we are meant to realize that what they have to show us is at the heart of our faith tradition.

    In the eyes of the world, and yes, sometimes in even our own eyes, we are nothing.  Our contributions feel negligible.  But I realize this afternoon that whatever enhances life, whatever affirms goodness, is the Holy Spirit working in our world.  We are God’s children, and our every small act of love is a step on our path to Him.  We may feel small, in fact, we are….but the feasts of our Church these last few days remind me of Mother Teresa’s famous quote, “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”   We are not meant to deny the grace filled affirmation our friends bring to our lives any more than we are meant to loathe ourselves, denying His goodness and love in every small work done through us.  That line of thinking is arrogant, and lacks humility.  It’s false humility, and it is not of God.

    Fr. Robert Barron, the soon to be installed rector at Mundelein Seminary in Illinois, and creator of the amazing series “Catholicism” (which I recommend every Catholic see), has spoken periodically about the devil.  He eloquently explains that the devil tempts us, afflicts us, and wounds our world often indirectly.  He reminds us to check ourselves.  The Holy Spirit affirms someone in their personhood, says Fr. Barron, while the influence of the devil will wound us with untruth.

    Who have you wounded with untruth, gossip or insinuation?  Are you listening to archangels or fallen ones?

    The next time a friend says “Thanks, Shelly, you’re the bomb” I plan to change my response.  “Thanks aren’t necessary” will henceforth be amended to “You are so very welcome!”

    When I do that, it’s a prayer of thanksgiving to my love and my savior, for choosing to use me for His purpose, and for the grace that caused my “Yes, Lord!”

    This afternoon, I am praying gratefulness for the attitude adjustment and the peaceful spirit I seem to have acquired.   That’s weird.  Gratefulness to God brings me to calmer waters?  As my 8-yr old son would say, “WELL, DUH!”

    Somewhere in heaven there is a beautiful, but exhausted guardian angel assigned to me who deserves a nap.

    “I have stilled my soul, hushed it like a weaned child.  Like a weaned child on its mother’s lap, so is my soul within me.”  (Ps 131:2)

    Now, I’m off to make some turkey soup– small thing, great love.  Yum.

  • Loving like St. Therese of Lisieux

    Gratefulness overwhelms me today.  I wish I could say I thank God each morning like I did on this one.  It is my 18th wedding anniversary.   My husband, Tom, remains the love of my life and one of the most honest and authentic people I have ever known.  To say that we are blessed is a ridiculous understatement.  It also happens to be the feast day of my favorite saint, St. Therese of Lisieux.  It was a holy and very funny priest who introduced me to her just a few years ago.  I don’t happen to believe in coincidence.  Like any deeply Catholic person, I am a supernatural thinker.  God’s plan was that I celebrate my marriage on the feast day of the saint who loved her bridegroom with stunning devotion and with joyful self sacrifice.  I remember reading her autobiography, Story of a Soul, and being blown away by her pure heart and passionate love of Christ.  Today, as I find myself filled with gratitude for the beautiful life and challenging, but rewarding vocation He has called me to live, I uncovered this old editorial I wrote about loving Christ with abandon.  It ran with a photograph of St. Therese, the Little Flower, which I am including in this post too.  I hope you enjoy the message.  What better day than my anniversary to share what I’ve learned about love.  St. Therese, Pray for Us!

    Is Jesus Going to Spit Me Out?

    Reassurance from others can lead us to believe we are in decent shape as far as “godliness” is concerned.  When we compare ourselves to those around us, we might even convince ourselves we stack up nicely compared to our neighbors.  Our security lies in our church attendance, generosity with others, work ethic, service to our parish, family or community.
    Here is the rub, though.  Jesus wants ALL of us.  He wants us to love him with abandon, like our very lives are at stake– because they are!  Lukewarm people love Jesus, believe in him, and desire to do what is good.  We are often even moved to tears by stories of radical faith.  Surely, compared to those who don’t make it to mass at all, or who don’t raise their hand to help, we with caring hearts who share from our abundance and love our Savior, though safely, are in fine shape as far as eternity is concerned.  What does Jesus say?
    As challenging as it is, it’s pretty clear the Lord is nauseated by us.  Uncommitted faith is an abomination to our Lord.  The word of God is absolutely concise.  “I know your works; I know that you are neither cold nor hot.  I wish you were either cold or hot.  So, because you lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Rev. 3:15-16)
    Frankly, that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up to attention.  Jesus wants to spit out the half-hearted?  Yikes.
    Two amazing saints are St. Therese of Lisieux (The Little Flower) and St. Augustine.  These two are clarifiers for me on the issue, because though they are very different from one another, their commonality is loving Jesus with relentlessness.  The former was a contemplative who lived what most would say was an outwardly unspectacular and truly pious life inside the walls of a convent.  She very simply offered her every tiny daily sacrifice out of genuine love of God.  Her God given gifts were quiet, and she lived only 24 years, but her soul cried out to Jesus as spectacularly as anyone about whom I have ever read.  As for Augustine, through the powerful intercession of his mother, St. Monica, he overcame a life filled with sinfulness.  His love for God shines in his words, “I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.”  None of this sounds like halfhearted commitment.
    To give Jesus ALL doesn’t mean we must do it in quiet hours of prayer and reverence like the Little Flower, or with bold panache and fantastic conversion like Augustine, it simply means our Savior wants us to use the grace and gifts He has given us to let Him be known.  To do so, we must look to the saints and love God passionately. The purpose of our very life should be to point to Him.
    Here’s a good litmus test.  If we are obsessed by God, nothing else can get into our lives— not tribulations stress or worries.  Worry and stress reek of arrogance.  How can we dare to be so absolutely unbelieving when God totally surrounds us?
    Are all we hopelessly lukewarm then?  What can we do?  Here’s some sage advice to ponder:
    Be not afraid to tell Jesus that you love Him; even though it be without feeling, this is the way to oblige Him to help you, and carry you like a little child too feeble to walk.
     –St. Therese of Lisieux

  • Mother of Mercy

    I’m gonna be honest.  Right now, I have forced myself into this chair to type hoping it will calm me down.  My heart is racing, my hands trembling; my mind is spinning out of control.  This has been quite a week.  At this moment, the gift I am giving myself is to simply spew it.  This is what I would call a “stream of consciousness” entry.

    Have you ever had a friend you just cherish beyond words?  God has blessed me with a handful of them.  I just call them “my girls”.   They are the cream of the crop, each with amazing gifts that make them incredibly special to me.  My friend Julie is the REAL DEAL.  She is a loving mother of 3 boys, an artist, quiet and unassuming, funny, selfless, and one of the finest women I have ever known.

    As I wrote earlier this week, my wonderful friend, Julie, lost her mother a few days ago.  I omitted details from the day she died on my previous entry.  See, the thing is, I had been with Julie most the afternoon that day this world lost Nula.  Julie had what I call a “Lucy and Ethel moment” and fell down the stairs and onto her garage floor the day before her mom died.  When I got the call to take her to have her leg checked the next morning, we both assumed she simply had a bad sprain.  Wrong.  The ankle was broken.  We talked and laughed and determined that it was annoying as heck, but nevertheless possible, to survive 6 weeks as a mom of 3 without being able to drive.  She picked out a purple cast….the ideal color for the mom of a Guerin Catholic Golden Eagle football player.  We found the sunny side, and I promised that we would help her through.

    When she got home, news reached her that her mom had taken a major turn for the worse, and that doctors didn’t think she would make it through the night.  This was jarring.  Despite the fact that she had been ill, the end came very suddenly and was without warning.  The prayer warriors went into overdrive that night praying Divine Mercy for Nula and strength for Julie and her entire family.  Word came just a couple hours later that God had taken Julie’s mom.  Julie sat beside her mom’s bed in a wheelchair herself, filled with angst, in that quickly forgotten purple cast.

    Funeral plans were made.  Eulogies were written.  We painted Julie’s toes purple to match her accessorized right leg.  Casserole dishes and platters full of cookies appeared.  Four priests concelebrated the mass, and Deacon Rick was “robed up” too.  It was a beautiful celebration of an amazing life.

    SIGH.  NOW, it seemed time to let my friend have some room to mourn with her family.  Then, the phone rang.  It was Julie.  She wondered if I could take her to the doctor.  Her good leg was hurting more than she thought it should.

    Two days post funeral, there we are in the doctor’s office again.  The doctor looks up at us and says, “I’m going to need you to head to St. Vincent’s now.  They will confirm things for you, Julie, but I believe you have some blood clots in your leg.  You need to go immediately.”

    I was thinking, “Goodness.  That’s a fine how do you do, God.  Really?  Hasn’t she been through enough this week?”  Off we went, trying to remain calm.

    Within half an hour, the ultrasound technician confirmed the diagnosis.  Her good leg has quite a few clots.  More tests were ordered.   Tears streamed down my friend’s face as I held her crutches, and her necklace, and her hand.  “Jules, this is when trusting God feels really hard, but we have to try.  He and I are gonna have some words tonight over you, FOR SURE, but our job is to trust Him.”

    I went to get her a tuna sub from Subway, and I called her husband.  He left work, and we tried to see the sunshine.

    Yesterday, more doctors were consulted.  Specialists galore, friends, and family swirled about.  She was sent home to rest and wait for instructions.

    Now four days since her mom’s funeral, she finds herself in a chair, in the same hospital where her mother passed away last week, with her purple cast, a left leg full of clots, getting a blood transfusion.  It seems her blood counts are poor.  It’s REEE-DAMN-DICULOUS!  Why now?  None of it makes much sense.

    Her concern is for her children.  She is texting me not to forget the youngest son’s cleats.  There’s carpool pickup, practice, and don’t forget the 9am football game.  Every mom can relate.  There’s no way to be present and peaceful in the moment until you are certain your children are safe and in loving hands.

    Tonight I will have some extras at the Thieme house.   There will be picking up, dropping off, packing bags, watching games, meal preparation, kid bathing, sleeping bags, and extra hugs needed.  I wish I could do more.

    To all the people today to whom I seemed distracted or even rude, I was.  I’m sorry.  Gus, greatest handyman ever, thanks for saving my house from the leaky plumbing while I talked and talked and talked on the phone today and completely ignored you.  I’m sure you’d like to give me a piece of your mind about my tacky hand waving.  A nice tip will be forthcoming.

    Here’s the thought I can’t quite escape as my heart hurts for my friend.  Who do we want when we are sick and struggling?  I can’t speak for you…..but I want my mom.  Gosh.

    Jules, this is my prayer for you.   I’m asking Mary, mother of us all, to watch over and intercede for you this day.  She will, because you are beloved.

    HAIL HOLY QUEEN, Mother of Mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope…..

     

     

  • Culture of Death?

    Let me get this straight.  A teenage girl in New York City cannot purchase a large coke, but she can get a Plan B “Morning After Pill” without parental consent at school?

  • Daily Mass for a Jesus Girl

    My friend Katie called me a “Jesus girl”.  It took me by surprise when she said it, but I admit that it instantly made me smile.  First of all, I just turned 40, and my oldest of three sons is a teenager, so there was some basking in the glow of the word “girl.”  Really though, I know she is right and being a Jesus girl is a grace born of prayer.
    Prayer for me started in earnest at one 8am daily mass after another a couple years ago.  What I didn’t understand then was that the simple, obedient act of showing up each morning was all that was required to change everything about my day.  The suggestion to attend mass was a tiny whisper in my soul, barely audible.  Listening and attending to it was borne of the feeling of being lost and lonely in the midst of my chaotic life.  I was attending mass because it was the only thing I could think to do to catch my breath.
    Our God is brilliant and loving beyond our comprehension. He wants to draw us closer.  All that is required is an open heart.  We don’t need to earn it, be smart enough or feel worthy an ounce.  I began showing up and then I couldn’t do without it.  There came a longing, a yearning to be there.  To say that I never expected to feel this kind of fondness for mass would be a major understatement– it would be somewhere in the ballpark of me thinking my sons might offer to do MY laundry.
    With all apologies to the wonderful priests of our diocese, I feel the need to pause and explain.  It’s not the homily.  It’s not the music.  The daily masses I’ve attended contain little of either.  It’s JESUS.  I receive Him and I am changed.
    How often do you truly consider that at every single mass, we have the opportunity to receive the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus?  A Protestant friend of mine, Lori, said to me recently, “If I believed what you Catholics supposedly believe, that Jesus is TRULY PRESENT in the Eucharist, well you simply could not keep me from mass.  So, where are the people?”
    I looked at her and smiled.  Then I said, “You have come to the right baseball mom, Lori.  Rarely do I miss a daily mass because I don’t supposedly believe…I KNOW Jesus is present.  I can’t wait to go back tomorrow—really.”
    Come join me anytime.  Jesus girls love company.

  • What’s in a Name?

    NULA.  It’s a name that stands on its own, her son eulogized this week.  Think “Cher” or “Beyonce”.  Her son, Joe, couldn’t have been more accurate in his description of his larger than life mother during her funeral mass Monday afternoon.  She lived her life with passion, where slackers need not apply.  Her battle with pancreatic cancer scarcely changed a thing.  She wouldn’t allow any child or grandchild of hers to get away with standing in the batter’s box watching strikes go by, and she went down swinging!

    Some people just have a way of making our lives sunnier, our hearts warmer.  They show up when the chips are down, or stop by with a diet coke, or make you laugh until your sides ache.  They just keep putting love out there.  They latch on to the affirmative.

    When Fr. Farrell gave the most beautiful funeral homily I have ever heard this week, that’s part of what he said made Nula such a genuine person.  But the most important thing he shared was a reminder.  He reminded the packed house at St. Pius X Catholic Church that God doesn’t want us to be the next St. Catherine of Siena, or Francis of Assisi.  He wants us to live our lives with zeal being authentically US, from start to finish, just like Nula did.

    Virtually every great accomplishment, program, or movement about which I have ever read or learned firsthand was started by someone who believed and lived passionately.  It’s painfully easy to decide one “cannot”.  It’s a simple path to nowhere living with a pocketful of excuses and the sense that we surely cannot acquire the capacity to do it.   Is there a single saint who spent their time glorifying God on this planet, on their path to canonization, preaching by word or example the idea of loving as moderately as possible?

    So, today, I am writing about loving my Catholic faith, again.  Writing about God doesn’t help me pay any bills.  It’s something I’d told myself I shouldn’t waste my time doing anymore.  I should be matching socks, or helping someone practice their spelling words, or making something slightly fancier than boiled noodles for dinner.  I am madly in love with my family, and I would like it to appear to them that these are not merely words.

    Here’s the thing.  I love writing and I love Jesus.  Those two things are my passions as well.   So, I acquired this crazy idea at Nula’s funeral that being Shelly, really living genuinely and passionately as the Shelly God means me to be, well, it means I am going to have to step confidently in the direction of passion.   I think I am just supposed to keep putting love out there, even though Blogging, and Twitter, and all social media seem incredibly narcissistic to me, and despite the fact that there seems to be no reason to believe my homemaking skills have any hope of improving.

    It’s all an effort at living who He created me to be, to the fullest extent I can endeavor to try, and with the help of His grace—that’s what He wants for all of us, and He Never Misses.

    Visit me at www.HeNeverMisses.wordpress.com or on Twitter at @shellythieme

    #PrayersforNula