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!

Darkness or Dryness

Is it the Dark Night of the Soul? Probably not. St. John of the Cross said sometimes people think they are going through a dark night when all they are going through is the result of their own carelessness, laziness, not resisting temptation, not being faithful in prayer, and not being with other Christians who can help them grow.

The darkness and dryness that can come into one’s soul from resistance to prayer and the things of the Spirit, is something you bring on yourself. Repent and return to the Lord. It’s so much easier to stay in spiritual condition, than to get out of spiritual condition and get back in it.

Inspired by a talk Dr. Ralph Martin gave on what we need to do to progress in our life in the Spirit. 

Knowledge vs. Knowing

When I first returned to the Church it was a very exciting time. Aside from going to Mass several times a week I spent a lot of time reading apologetics books. I was also a member of an online Q & A forum where Doubting Thomases could ask questions and knowledgeable and faithful Catholics would give answers that aligned with actual Church teaching. I just couldn’t get enough of it. I would eat breakfast and lunch at the computer while reading the forum and then go back after dinner for more. When I wasn’t on the computer, I was inhaling books. I was utterly saturated and I loved it. I ‘drank the Kool-Aid’ long enough, now I was drinking the spiritual milk.

I wanted to join the RCIA team to share all of my ‘abundant knowledge and wisdom.’ Truthfully, I think I wanted to show off.  The group at that time were either seasoned and trained school teachers or experienced prayer group and bible study leaders. All of them had been involved in various ministries almost longer than I had been alive. I was completely and utterly out of my depth! Thankfully they tolerated my presence and, in their wisdom, I don’t think they ever called on me to lead a class. If they did, they surely picked up the considerable slack as I was often tongue-tied when it came to actually speaking about what I had read. This went on for a few years and the annual repetition of the lessons probably benefited me more than anyone that ever came through that program! So, I ended up knowing a lot about Jesus but I didn't really know him.

At some point, I realized I wasn’t making much progress in my spiritual life anymore and it was time to receive deep healing.  This took place over several years through different ministries in the Church, but clearing that initial dam of sin made a significant difference in how God was able to use me from that time on. This happened after I was prayed over for a release of my spiritual gifts and when I was baptized in the Holy Spirit.  It was like going from black and white to technicolor. I went from knowing intellectually that God loves me and all other human beings, to encountering the risen and living Christ. Finally, I knew Jesus, not just about him, and finally, I could share him with others!

How To Pray

How many times have you prayed for someone where part of the prayer was for your desired outcome? Lord, I pray for your protection on Floyd but inspire him to go to Mass instead of golfing on Sunday morning. Jesus, please have mercy on Ethel, help her to see her drinking is killing her, amen.  Dear God, please make it possible for Elmer to forgive his sister Beulah before it’s too late.  

These are all good intentions. Piety, sobriety, forgiveness – we should all be striving towards that, right? And prayer is good – I’m talking to God! We are supposed to pray every day so if I pray this prayer 9 days in a row, while wearing the Miraculous medal, and lighting a candle every day then God will have to answer my prayer, right? Yes, indeed God will answer your prayer. He will say yes, no, or not now.  

So, you’re frustrated because your intentions are pure. You’ve read the bible where God says ask, knock, I will give it to you. Yet Floyd just booked a tee time; Ethel has been through detox 3 times and still isn’t dry, and Elmer is now screening his telephone calls. *sigh*

I will share something important about praying for others. We cannot control another’s free choices through prayer. The best prayer is simply to ask God to remove obstacles to belief and to restore your loved one’s freedom to respond to God’s grace. That’s it.

I am sure someone was saying that prayer for me. My pride, brokenness, and foolishness kept me holding onto things that weren’t right. Eventually, grace uncovered my sins and converted my heart and I am so thankful.

He Leadeth Me

If you’re an impulsive person like me it can be very confusing when you are trying to discern if God is speaking to you or not. When your first instinct is always to react to emotions this can often lead you down the wrong path. Eventually, you get older and you either learn from your mistakes or you are just too tired to chase down every inspiration. If you are fortunate enough you can find a balance between your feelings, your experiences, and when the Lord is truly leading you.

I want to tell you about a particular time in my life where God led me by the hand to my little emerald island to speak to me and show me his great Heart.

Shortly after I left New York I went to meet up with my husband so we could visit my in-laws in Nova Scotia. We had a few little day trips planned but nothing major. We like to stick around where the folks are because they are getting older and well, you just never know what’s going to happen.

A few days after we arrived, we thought we might go to Prince Edward Island for a day and we’d pack a bag in case we stayed overnight. Or maybe we wouldn’t go at all. We’d been many times before so we weren’t concerned if we put it off to another time.

The next day one of my children phoned. He told me he was sorry to give me bad news on my vacation. He had waited until I left New York in order not to put any more stress on me while I was there taking care of my other son and his family, but he had a tumor and he couldn’t keep it from me anymore. I felt time stop. I was caught in that horrific moment and I could not move. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I tried to be strong because if Mama is losing it then the world is surely ending.

Nobody knew for sure if the tumor was cancerous. Only surgery and a biopsy could confirm it. I wanted to know when the surgery was but it had not been scheduled yet. I told my son I was packing up and leaving Nova Scotia as soon as possible but he was adamant that I stay where I was. I reluctantly agreed. 

I had been in the house for some time so my husband came to see what was taking me so long. He said we should go home but I told him we were to stay where we were. I asked him to tell his brother and sister-in-law our news but I would not be making an appearance poolside that evening. I also made my husband promise not to tell anyone else about the diagnosis until we had more answers.

It was very difficult to sleep that night. I sat in the TV room trying to find flights home on my phone even though I had promised to stay put. No matter what I tried I could not find flights or make my phone cooperate. I didn’t have access to a computer or laptop and calling the airline was not an option. Finally, I went to bed.

I couldn’t face anyone the next morning so I told my husband I wanted to go to PEI after all. He didn’t want to, but at this point he was willing to do anything so I wouldn’t start crying again so we packed an overnight bag, checked the ferry schedule, and headed out.

As we waited for the ferry, I remember it was a beautiful sunny day. I flipped through some travel brochures while I had a coffee. I decided we should go to the western part of the island as it as less touristy. The last thing I wanted on this trip was to keep coming face to face with the cheerful and eccentric Anne of Green Gables.

I can’t remember if it was a photo of the place or the description that caught my attention but there was an old Catholic girls school that had been converted into an inn in Tignish. It had a Mary garden complete with a grotto. Instantly I wanted to go there. I called the number but I wasn’t hopeful. August on the island is very busy. A lady with a kind voice and a strong Maritime accent answered the phone and yes, there was exactly one room left. I immediately booked it.

As we got closer to Tignish I began to notice that there were quite a few roadside shrines to the Blessed Mother. Some were the regular ‘bathtub Mary’ version but there was one in particular that was quite large and made of rocks, like a grotto. It was very comforting to me at that time to see this as it reminded me of Lourdes, a place of many healing miracles.

As we drove up to the inn, I saw there was a beautiful old brick church right next door. We asked about Mass times but one had already been celebrated in the morning and there wouldn’t be another until tomorrow evening. However, a famous organist would be playing a selection of music after supper.

After dropping off our bag in the room we headed over to the church. It was like a balm to my aching heart. There were beautiful paintings on the walls, traditional gold stars on the ceiling, and statues of all my favorite saints. We lit some candles and there was even a book where we could write prayer requests. It was like a hug from heaven. And of course, Jesus was there in the Tabernacle.

After the organ recital, I noticed there was Eucharistic Adoration in the little chapel next door. I couldn’t believe that out there, practically in the middle of nowhere, there was an Adoration chapel. My husband headed back to our room and I was able to spend some quiet time praying with Jesus. I slept well that night.

I was still scared for my son but our impromptu pilgrimage to the little emerald island had given me the strength I needed to get through the next few weeks. It was so clear to me that we had been led there to be ministered to, and tenderly cared for, by Jesus and His mother. I still feel dazed by their love and overwhelmed by how personal it was. Even the motto of the province is Parva Sub Ingenti - the small under the protection of the great. 💕

 

A Shower of Roses on Assumption

Today is the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. I love this feast because it celebrates Mary’s body and soul entering into heaven and being reunited with her Son. It’s also a bittersweet day because it’s the anniversary of my mother’s passing.

My mother was far away from the Church when she died although she wasn’t hostile towards it. She was no feminist but she felt in some ways the Church was somewhat old fashioned. She also grew up in a time when a lot of what passed for church teaching was more misunderstanding and even superstition. You know, like if I pray this prayer for 9 days in a row then X will be guaranteed to happen. She told me that as a child she was sure she would go straight to hell if she ate meat on Fridays. She came of age just as Vatican II got underway so there was even more confusion. She loved Pope St. John XXIII and the whole idea of ‘opening windows in the Church’ yet I don’t remember her ever going to Mass except for my grandmother’s funeral. Still, she believed in a good God and she was a very loving, kind, patient, and generous mother to my brother and me.

A few years ago, it was the 20th anniversary of her passing. Every year this anniversary was brutal. Right after my birthday in the middle of July, I would start going into a depression in anticipation of it. I was laying in bed that morning and I was probably crying. In desperation, I prayed for St. Therese’s intercession. I prayed she would send me a rose to let me know if my mother was alright. I asked her to send a very clear sign, something as obvious as a 2 x 4 to the head as I didn’t want to second guess myself. I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to pray for because we are not supposed to ask for signs, we are supposed to have faith, especially when things don’t look very promising. At the same time, Therese had promised that ‘When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens, I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.’  So, I got up and I went about my business that morning and tried not to think much more about it.

At noon the mail arrived and right on the top of the pile was an envelope from the Society of the Little Flower featuring 3 red roses and stating that my St. Therese Rosary was enclosed. On the back of the envelope was a picture of St. Therese and a statement that she was known for her love of roses and is often called on to have one sent from her heavenly garden as a sign of hope.  I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter addressed to me. The first line read, ‘There’s nothing like a mother’s love, is there?’ And then I really started to cry! Therese had clearly sent me a rose as a sign of hope.

I had not ordered this rosary or expected any correspondence from this society. I had never even heard of them before. It was actually a letter seeking donations so my name and address had been sold to them by somebody. At the same time, I did not care that this came about in such a worldly way. Events had been put into place in anticipation of this day so that my prayer would be answered and I was grateful. After all, had I not prayed this same prayer every year since my mother died?

Many will chalk up this particular event to coincidence but time and time again God has shown me his love and care exactly when I needed it most. He made us to be tactile beings and will use earthly signs to connect with us and respond to us. 

As for the yearly depression in anticipation of the anniversary of my mother’s passing, that’s gone. I now feel peace on this day. I still miss my earthly mother but my hope is that she is now enjoying Eternity with our Blessed Mother and her Son. Amen! 🌹🌹🌹

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.

Obedience

Obedience.

That’s not a word we hear a lot of these days. It’s swathed in oppression, servitude, bondage. But if you look into its etymology it comes from the word audire – to listen, to hear.

How often have I cringed the minute I hear I have to do something a certain way? How many times have I talked myself in to or out of something, to exert my own will? How many times have I refused to listen to those who have set limits so that I don’t hurt myself or others? At times it’s been as simple as being too stubborn to wear proper clothing in bad weather. At other times I've tuned out my conscience and caved into curiosity and ended up hanging around with people that didn’t have my best interests at heart.

When I returned to the Church, I was obsessed with every rule, every precept, every commandment. I wanted to be told how to live my life so I would never be hurt again. If I was obedient then I might be assured a place in heaven. It might not be in one of the best rooms in my Father’s house and I might not be feasting with the Saints but I would happy enough in my corner nibbling on scraps. Thus, began a time of agonizing scrupulosity.

Eventually, I started dismantling my brick wall of so-called submission and compliance that was actually fear.  I started building a foundation of trust in Jesus and with Jesus. I started listening to him. In his Word, in good homilies, and in orthodox books, time and time again he showed me he was faithful, merciful, forgiving. It became easier to be truly obedient to him because I wanted to please him instead of myself. Am I always successful? No. Has it become easier to discern his voice? Yes.

 “Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”~ Jeremiah 33:3

 

 

Fitting In

I remember the day my mom taught me to make the sign of the cross. I felt like I had just discovered some great astonishing truth. In a way I truly had. But this isn’t about a ritual or an action with deeper meaning that I can capture in a short blog post. It’s about fitting in.

I was baptized as a newborn but I have no memory of going to Mass with my parents when I was a child. When my mom taught me how to make the sign of the cross, I was probably around 9 years old. All my Catholic friends had long since made their First Communions and were champion cross makers. I could not even remember in what order to start – heart, head, shoulder? Left side or right side? I looked like a novice - or worse - an impostor. I needn’t have worried as I wasn’t even going to Mass so nobody was going to discover my secret.

I did go to church sometimes with a friend who belonged to the Church of the Nazarene. There was zero cross making there! But I didn’t fit in there either. In Sunday school we were learning about the Christmas story and one boy asked the teacher what a virgin was. I was 11 at the time and I understood what the word meant and sat there in wide eyed disbelief that this was going to be discussed. The teacher never missed a beat and responded that a virgin was a lady who had not had a baby yet. It was the perfect answer in that situation but I felt awfully worldly.

Around that time the church also had an altar call during their service. My friend whispered encouragement to me, to go up there and dedicate myself to God but I sat rooted in my seat. It’s not because I was Catholic that I hesitated but I was so afraid I’d do something wrong and embarrass myself.

Several years later I was in high school and we took a field trip to the abbey in Mission. We entered the chapel and my Italian friend was right at home, blessing herself with holy water, genuflecting towards the tabernacle. I felt like a dunce. I wanted so much to know instinctively how to do those things, to have them come naturally, to understand why we did those things. I felt like a stranger in my own church.

Many years later I crossed myself correctly as I sneaked into the back of my church after a very long absence. I knew why I needed to genuflect – and Who I was genuflecting to. I even remembered when to sit and stand during that scary Mass. Eventually after some months it all began to feel comfortable again.

At the same time, I still felt I would never be Catholic enough. I’d be sitting at Mass or at some holy presentation with all the other ladies but squirming in my seat. I had come back to the Church via a long and twisted road. I hadn’t lived a pure and pious life and I struggled with some of the teachings. I considered myself damaged goods.

But an interesting thing happens when you begin to trust Jesus and allow him to heal you. He does meet you where you are but he loves you too much to leave you there. He presents the Truth and helps you to understand why he teaches what he does. He knows that transformation can be terrifying. But he doesn’t leave you alone. He sends his friends to accompany you, to pray for you, to encourage you.

And then one day, after you’ve experienced healing, you’re sitting at Mass or at a presentation and you think - I am Home. I am home and I am healed and I have joy. I was lost but I was found. I fit in, not because I am perfect or because I know all the right gestures and responses, I fit in because Jesus has made a place for me in his Sacred Heart.