Wounds and Scars

I had coffee with a friend the other day and somehow we started talking about scars from the past. I mentioned that Jesus still manifests the wounds from the nails and the spear on his body. I don’t think too many people give much thought to that. I couldn’t understand it myself for a long time until I read that it is a visible reminder of what Jesus did for us.

I often wish I could have selective amnesia so I would stop getting flashbacks. But then I remember the wounds of Jesus and a beautiful quote from Mother Angelica. She said, 

“Some of your pain will never go away. It will become our hidden cross, known to you and God alone. This is the cross of Jesus…Our lives are not some kind of spiritual endurance test designed to see how much punishment and humiliation we can take from the world in despair. But we do accept responsibility to radiate the love of Jesus to the world. And part of that responsibility calls us to accept whatever it is that comes our way with a loving detachment…Jesus’ act of forgiveness did not take away his pain. And your forgiveness will not take away yours.”

I almost want to say – then why bother forgiving?!

We often hear that we’ll never fully understand why most of the injustices we suffer have been permitted by God. We’re told that in the next life we will know why and even thank God for bringing good out of our suffering. No wonder St. Teresa of Avila told God that if this is how he treats his friends it’s no wonder he has so few of them.

In the Old Testament the prophet Habakkuk asked God how long he’d have to call him for help, help that never seemed to arrive when needed.

How long, Lord, must I call for help,
    but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, “Violence!”
    but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
    Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?
Destruction and violence are before me;
    there is strife, and conflict abounds.

Habakkuk wants knowledge of good and evil. Ask Adam and Eve how that went for them…

Do I want knowledge of good and evil? Or am I going to forgive and bless my enemies and let God deal with them?

I think I have my answer. I think I actually just had a breakthrough!

A New Garment

I love it when beautiful random memories pop up. This is one of them. 💕

It was a very warm day when she wandered into the shop where I was working. She walked up to my counter and asked me for a pair of scissors. I probably took a step back mentally if not physically. I wondered if she wanted to hurt herself.

I slowly opened my drawer and took the scissors out. I reluctantly handed them to her and asked her what she needed them for. She told me she was hot and was going to cut the long sleeves off her shirt. I am sure I looked at her like she was crazy.

She took the scissors to her left sleeve and started cutting. She was serious! It was more difficult to cut the right sleeve with her left hand. As she did this, she babbled away to me, telling me she was in town for a relative’s funeral and in her culture, and she was supposed to wear the same clothes for several days. I wasn’t sure if she was putting me on or not, and I wasn’t going to ask because she was holding a sharp object!

She then announced she was going to cut her pant legs shorter. By this time, she had won my heart with her openness so I offered to cut the pant legs for her. It was coffee time in the shop and the managers were out back so I quickly sent up a prayer that they wouldn’t decide to return early, and also that the phone would not ring.

I went around the counter and proceeded to cut her outfit. I didn’t do a very good job – the cuts were somewhat jagged. I could have sent her into the public washroom and asked her to hand her pants out to me but I figured that was going to backfire. I knew if the managers saw what was happening, they’d be making rude and cruel remarks about this woman for the rest of the day. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.

When I was done, I stood up and she gave me a delighted grin. She reached for my hands and held them in hers and thanked me. I gave her a little blessing and she thanked me again. Then she was off into the hot sunshine in her new “shorts.” I wondered if she might regret her actions and come back to berate me but I never saw her again.

Wherever she is, I hope she is well.

An Unexpected Gem

Anybody that knows me knows that I love going on pilgrimages and retreats. I love travelling to places where nobody knows me or my story or my past and I can just be. We often find God in these places because we are open to him and because very often these locations are anointed by healing or an apparition or both.

Two years ago, I was helping one of my children with his family’s health situation. Everyone was stable but they wanted some moral support (and help with the laundry and scrubbing the toilet!) and I was happy to be needed. Almost every day for 18 days I went to the hospital so I decided I would try to make each day a mini-pilgrimage. I was in New York City so it was easy to find many different churches to visit when I needed a break.

There were 2 churches that I passed regularly while walking from Penn Station to the hospital. I didn’t go to Mass at either one but I did stop in to pay my respects to the Blessed Sacrament and offer up prayers of thanksgiving for the healing of my family. Also, air conditioning! It was August when I was there so it was a real blessing to get a break from the heat and humidity.

One day I took the wrong exit out of the train station. When I got to street level, I looked around and could see a steeple topped by a cross. I hoped it was a Catholic church. I walked in that direction but there was some construction going on so I had to go around the block. I wondered if there was indeed a church, would it be boarded up like some others I had seen in my daily travels. I kept walking because I had to find out!

When I finally arrived at St. John the Baptist church, I took one look inside through the open doors and knew I was home! This little gem of a church is beautifully decorated in traditional style. There were statues with kneelers, candles, paintings, even a little shrine to St. Padre Pio that contained one of his socks and one of his gloves. I walked around this treasure for a few minutes undisturbed. Although this church is right in the heart of midtown it was an oasis of quiet. It was hard to pray in there, though. There were too many beautiful things I wanted to look at!

At one point a very kind gentlemen greeted me. He was obviously familiar with the place and told me about the fire that had occurred there and about his sister, a parishioner at this church before she died. When I meet people like that, I always think of St. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews when he reminds us that we need to, ‘show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.’

There were a few other churches that I visited on that trip but the most special one had to be this little jewel in Midtown.

To be continued…

Swimming In the Shallow End of the Pool

Politics is not something I want to write about on this blog but in light of all that is happening this year I realized that for the first time ever, within 3 months, North America could be led by 3 Catholic politicians. Now I know what some of you are thinking and I agree with you. Two of these fellows are Catholics in name only. The third, the president of Mexico, does identify as Catholic but prefers to call himself a “Christian, in the broadest sense of the word…” Fair enough. In fact, I think he is the most truthful one of the bunch.

So, let me dig a little deeper into the faith of the other two. Actually, I don’t think I have to dig too deep at all as their beliefs seem more wide than deep. Recently I read a chapter in Dan Burke's book Spiritual Warfare and the Discernment of Spirits and he writes,

Catholics simply do not know the Faith they claim. Years of immersion in the shallow end of the pool does not teach someone to swim, no matter how much time they have spent in the water.

And I can’t remember where I read this but,

Being sentimental about rosaries or nuns is not faith.

I don’t personally claim to have insider knowledge of a certain prime minister or that guy running for president south of the border but I have heard on multiple occasions of their support for abortion, among other things.  Just supporting abortion alone is contrary to Catholic teaching. Yet, a former first lady of America states that the presidential candidate is 'guided by faith'. Not sure how she came to that conclusion. I mean, standing in a garage doesn’t make me a car, same as sitting in a church doesn’t make me a Christian.

Please don’t get me wrong – this is not a post of support for the current president. He has used people of faith because they routinely vote for his party. He’s no more prolife than the other politicians I have referenced.

Our neighbours to the south are in deep trouble. Their only hope is to pray for an outcome to the election that is pleasing to God. I have no idea how that is going to happen without an enormous and miraculous conversion. Americans need to fast and pray for their country. We need to do the same for ours but for the moment our politeness as Canadians, which is rapidly deteriorating as the virus continues to grip our country, will hopefully keep us from self destruction.

All of this reminds me of Luke 19:41-44 where Jesus wept as he approached Jerusalem and said the city would be crushed by its enemies because the people didn’t recognize the time of their visitation from God. I am praying we will be attentive and recognize his presence before it is too late.

A Lesson From the Past

I just have to say I love writing this blog. I will think I have a topic and I'm all set to write about that but then the Holy Spirit pops into my mind with other ideas (I call it Popcorn from the Holy Spirit) and off we go in whatever direction He wills. Today's post is definitely one of those posts. 😄🔥

Facebook Messenger…where messages never die. I bet I could find some lost socks from the dryer in my FB mailbox too. I was scrolling through old messages and deleting them when I hit paydirt! I found a series of long-lost messages between me and one of my cousins about our uncle’s decision to be euthanized (blog post coming soon). I found a very terse message written to someone I had a very difficult relationship with. I also discovered a scathing review of a certain person’s behaviour at a wedding I attended. I had no idea I could be that vicious. Wow. This is what is so fabulous about writing – you can see how you have (hopefully!) grown, matured and mellowed...and forgiven.

The messages were all dated 2011. It’s hard to believe that was 9 years ago already! The following year I attended my first healing retreat and that’s when I started down the road to living my life in the Spirit. Up until that time I had been laying a foundation that was all about following the letter of the law. I knew all the rules and regulations, when to do this particular thing, when to do that thing, for how long, what to read, what to say, what to think. I was very scrupulous because worldly values had only hurt me. I figured if I followed all these church rules, I would be safe. I suppose I was but I am quite sure I did not attract one person to a life of faith with my rigidity. I had my piety in order but to a degree, I was still dead inside.

Each healing retreat I went on could be the subject of individual blog posts but that will come at another time. The two things they all had in common though was that forgiveness and repentance are the keys to freedom. But don’t ask me how you can measure and calculate that because it will be different for each person and each situation you need to deal with. Different retreats will have different methods to help you get to the root of your particular circumstances but I’ve made the most progress at ones that have daily Mass, plenty of opportunities for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, group time, private one on one time with a leader, and free time. And Kleenex. Lots and lots and lots of Kleenex!

I’ve been on retreats where I cried multiple times a day for 9 days in a row. It was like a dam breaking. All that pent up hurt and all those thoughts I couldn’t bear to express or didn’t have the words to articulate, they all came gushing out. And just when you think you’re done there’s more. But it’s good, it’s all good.

In a way, a retreat is like going up a ladder. You can’t climb to the top in one giant step. You have to go up rung by rung. Sometimes you have to examine the rung to make sure your foot is actually on it and then you can reach up and go a little higher. The further up you go the more disoriented you may feel but if you’ve got your spotter and the ladder is on a steady foundation then you will get there.

I bought a lot of books over the years trying to figure out how to find peace. I’ve talked to a lot of people about what has hurt me. Some were friends, some were paid professionals. I’ve journaled until my pen ran out of ink or my laptop overheated. But in the end, there are just some things that only Jesus can heal.