Praying in My Mary Garden

It's been a long summer and summer isn't even over. My family has managed to declutter dozens of bags of excess from our home and weed bag after bag of weeds from our yard. With the help of my sons and a young adult family friend, (pictured here with our cat) I managed to carve out a Mary Garden from an overgrown patch of yard.

Moping on Candlemas and Struggling to be a Light Bearer

Today is the Feast of Candlemas, which marks 40 days since Christmas. If you have not taken down your Christmas tree, as my family has not, today is really the last possible day you can claim it is still the Christmas season.

Starting tomorrow, you can just say you are well prepared for December 25 of this year.

Praying for Healing for Terrorism's Survivors

Ever since September 11, 2001, I have had an intermittent nightmare. It goes like this: Greg have been together for years. In some dreams, like last night's, we've been raising our boys together. But in every nightmare he Just. Won't. Marry. Me. In the dream, I am caught between longing to stay with him anyway and wondering what my life would be like with him gone. 

A trauma therapist told me years ago my dream is about loss and about the fragility of life. 
I always wake up from it anxious. And sometimes, I wake up sobbing. 

I nearly lost my husband but I did not lose my husband. 

A New School, A Walk in the Dark

We journey with our children. We walk with them as they face whatever it is God places in front of them.  This morning will be another step in the journey.

On the Eve of High School Graduation: Some Lessons from Our Son's Encounter with a Bus

At work Thursday the school secretary called my name on the public address system, telling me to come to the main office right away. I was packing up my classroom for the school year and left the door open and walked down the stairs and they were calling my name again. 

Instinctively, I made a sign of the cross when I was on the phone with my husband in the main office and he was telling me how our older son, Gabe, had been hit by an NJ Transit bus while riding his bike and was in the pediatric trauma unit and that he was alive and alert.

The sign of the cross was a sign of thanks for his being alive, and my plea for strength to get through whatever it was we were facing.

From Pittsburgh: A Cardinal's Cassock, an "Almost Famous" Sandwich, and Some Wise Words from the Ambo

We four returned this afternoon from Pittsburgh, where we toured the University of Pittsburgh campus for an admitted students' day, ate at Primanti Brothers, and attended Mass at the Newman Catholic Center. A few insights:

First, Pitt is a wonderful place. I had to stop myself from buying one of these sweatshirts; our oldest still is mulling his options for college and whether he prefers a large university to a small liberal arts college.

Second, I can handle a Primanti's sandwich. Either my tummy has gotten entirely too large  (a definite possibility) or the portions are not as outrageous as advertised.

How A Butterfly Guides Me: Setting off on My Lenten Journey

Since I posted yesterday about my stalled spirituality  I have come up with a simple, repeatable way to prepare for Easter. I am wary of any Lenten prayer plan that is so complex that I feel like a failure before I begin; my Lenten journey will not be a redux of Benjamin Franklin's Moral Perfection plan, his self-improvement scheme that would work for no more than a day.

Here's what I have been up to. Each night, right before I go to bed, I check out universalis.com and read the nighttime prayer on my iPad. I grab a phrase, and say it to myself as I fall asleep. In the morning, first thing, I read the morning prayer and again pick an image or phrase that I can carry with me during the day.

My Prayers and My Politics

I rarely involve myself in politics. I have friends and family members of  every political persuasion and I find politics so often divisive and counter productive to those relationships. I would rather spend my time raising our sons, nurturing my marriage and building friendships. In fact, the last time I took a public stance on anything was 10 years ago, when the United States was contemplating the invasion of Iraq. I went to some peace vigils and stood on the sidewalk of our small town with a sign quoting Blessed John Paul II. Social justice cannot be attained by violence. Violence kills what it intends to create.

That was then. This is now.

The Value of Road Bumps

I'm not sure where I got the idea that if my husband and I did all the "right" things parenting, our boys would glide through childhood and adolescence and smoothly into adulthood. I'm not sure where that idea came from, or how it is I came to believe that watching them glide is preferable to the reality of watching them experiences the ups and downs of growing up and learning, often the hard way, how to make mistakes.

After all, life is a bumpy ride for us all, isn't it? Why was I thinking our teenagers would escape the inevitability of facing the consequences of their own limitations and excesses?

In the past week, we have come to discover, once again, that our children are on a bumpy ride. They are growing up unevenly, maturing beautifully in some places and not at all in others. Our boys make mistakes, sometimes don't learn from them, and try to please us in ways that end up backfiring. Sometimes, I feel like I am watching them take a ride on a road littered with potholes and sharp turns. Yes, I am keeping this vague because this is their ride, their journey, not ours.

Anger and Sadness from a Survivor's Wife As 9/11 Anniversary Approaches

It felt today as if someone had taken a load of bricks and thrown them onto my chest. Tomorrow marks the 12th anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center. My husband, who walked out of Tower One 11 minutes before it fell, still is with me. He's alive to help me guide our two boys to adulthood, to make awesome chicken wings, and to coach middle school basketball. So why did I cry - no why did I sob - so many tears today?

Virtual Prayer Vigil for Peace in Syria: Join Me

While thousands of faithful gather in St. Peter's Square this Saturday at 7 p.m., I'd like to host a virtual prayer for peace in Syria. That will be at 1 p.m. New York time. I'm not sure where I will be since I am still sorting out my Saturday plans, which include a cyclocross race in Trexlertown, Pa.. But I plan to participate in the fast from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday and to pray for peace at 1 p.m.  Will you join me?

The Arab Cultural Association held a candle light vigil

 in Downtown Athens, Ga., to raise awareness 

for the lives lost in the Syrian conflict. Photo courtesy of www.redandblack.com

Litany of Humility: A Prayer for a Beloved Sinner

Today's 11 a.m. Mass celebrant at our parish, Father Peter Cebulka, C.O., recommended we look up the Litany of Humility. Father Peter, who is chaplain of the Catholic Center at Rutgers, said he recommended the prayer to a student recently. Later, the young man texted him:  The student texted him: Litany of Humility. I love it. I hate it. 

Boy oh boy do I need this prayer. As Father Peter told us, we need to remember that we are beloved sinners. That is our identity. If we think too much about how we are beloved by God, we might fall into pride. If we focus too much on our sinful nature, we might never feel we can connect with the One who called us into being. 

At the End of A Difficult Day, Love Endures

 

I had a tumultuous traveling day, flying from Newark to Birmingham, Alabama, with a layover in Detroit. I forgot some important items at home, which will make my travels difficult. Tonight I find myself visiting with old parish friends before I tour civil-rights sites in Alabama and attend a teachers' conference in author Harper Lee's hometown. How ironic to find myself here, in a state that has endured so much violence and racial strife, on the day a Florida jury found an unarmed black teen's killer guilty of absolutely nothing. It can be so discouraging, this search for justice.

In Which The Man Drinking Green Tea Asks For Our Prayers

This afternoon my parents and I, tired from a visit to the Norton Museum of Art, stopped by the Starbucks in Boynton Beach. It's a favorite haunt of my mom and dad, who retired to this corner of Florida many years ago. We settled into three comfy chairs in the back of the cafe.

A man in his thirties, dressed in a black shirt, black pants and black shoes, settled into the fourth of the four chairs. He was small and looked a bit nervous, a bit out of his element. He put down his computer case and went to the counter to pick up his green tea. Who could imagine that 30 minutes later, we would know much about this man and that he would ask us to pray for him?

On A Failure of Love: "Poor Baby: A Child of the Sixties Looks Back On Abortion:"

Last night - Good Friday -  felt like the right time to download on my brand new Kindle a book - really more like a 50-plus page essay, by L.A.-based writer Heather King called "Poor Baby," a raw meditation on her three abortions.

No matter one's personal history, or one's political views on whether abortion should be legal, or one's moral belief as to whether abortion ever can be an ethical choice, this book is worth reading. In fact, I would say anyone with strong views about abortion should read this book with clear eyes and an open heart. We need King's voice in the conversation.

So much of the profoundly polarizing abortion "debate" in this country lacks nuance; this book does not.

Holy Saturday: Back On My Knees

I have blown far too much time today debating fellow Catholics on facebook about Pope Francis washing women's feet and whether a Catholic deacon can support same-sex marriage by the government while upholding the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony between a man and a woman in the Church and whether a Jesuit high school is erring in allowing two openly gay students to go to prom together.

Shame on me for my self-satisfied attitude on this, one of the most solemn, most holy days of our liturgical year.

I am going to continue praying the Divine Mercy Novena and listen to some Palestrina to keep my pride in check and fix my gaze on Christ. A blessed Holy Saturday to all who believe, even when we fall short.

Seven Quick Takes for Friday

 http://photographybydarmetko.blogspot.com/

1.  Today's drive to work was treacherous. Snow was pelting down and the roads were slick. I was driving our 20-year-old Saturn, which has a poor defroster, no upholstery on the ceiling and no working horn up an interstate jammed with trucks and littered with accidents and police lights. (Our van is in the shop.) About halfway through the commute, I began praying the rosary out loud. Ten Hail Marys followed by the Our Father and Glory Be. Over and over again. I began to feel calm and the presence of peace. I made it to work. Thanks be.

Blessings to Pope Benedict XVI: "The Love of Christ Urges Us On"

I have always loved the writings of our Holy Father. In fact, I just bought his Infancy Narratives as an audiobook. I wish that those who criticize the man  - within our Church as well as outside the Church - would read his words without preconception.

Prayers Please!

A little sad today for one of our sons; his second-marking period report card just came in. He doesn't feel good about poor grades. My husband and I need to figure out what the next step is that he needs to take and to help him take it. School can be a big struggle.

Jesus at My Side: 365 Reflections on His Words

Last night, I began reading  Jesus at My Side by my friend Julie Cragon. This little paperback book has been sitting on my dresser for an embarrassingly long amount of time. I will be using this as a daily devotional.

In this rich and thoughtful work, Julie offers us quotes from Christ and reflections for every day of the year. I felt compelled to start with January 1. The Scripture is  Luke 2, verse 49. "Why were you looking for me? Did you not know I must be in my Father's house?" As with all the entries, Julie begins with the Scripture, moves on to a personal reflection, and then ties it back to the life of Christ Himself.