Advent: A Time to Prepare

I fell in love with this statue at the parish where
where my niece made her Confirmation last weekend.

As I pondered this morning how God is asking me to prepare my heart this Advent, it occurred to me that, had my pregnancy earlier this year gone well, I would have been expecting a baby in just over a month.
How would I have prepared for the arrival of that baby?  Where would we have made room in our busy lives for a new life? 

Perhaps the ache that has been tugging on my heart, asking me to remember the little one I had hoped to welcome into my arms, can be an impetus to instead help me remember the One who one day will, hopefully, welcome me into His.

The joy of new life! The JOY of the Lord!

I definitely nest when I am expecting a new baby.  I like to have everything clean and organized, knowing our energies after the baby's arrival will be rightfully directed toward welcoming the new baby and resting.  I don't think the house ever got as clean as I hoped it would before I had Nicholas, but I tried, and in the end the best I could do certainly was good enough.

What occurred to me this morning was that, when I am cleaning in preparation for a new baby, it feels different than when I am cleaning on a regular week.  My house may be messy for the same reasons, but in my heart I am not merely going through the motions so the house can get messy again.  I am earnestly working in preparation for someone whose arrival will change my life forever.  There is anticipation.  There is excitement.  There is joy.

Such a beautiful church.  I loved how Mary and St. John (I am guessing)
look up at Jesus on the cross.  I felt transported to Calvary.

I know my efforts should always be done out of love and as a gift to my family and to God, and on a certain level, they are.  But it's easier to keep that in mind, and to really feel it, when you are expecting a baby.

This Advent, we all should be anticipating the birth of a Baby -- of Jesus -- Who truly wants to be born into our hearts and lives in a tangible way this Christmas.

This Advent, why don't we try to bring that same earnestness, anticipation, and joy, into our preparations to welcome Christ?  Look at that empty cradle in your manger, and picture a real baby arriving soon.  When Christmas arrives, most of us won't need to slow down to recover from childbirth, but we likely do want to be able to slow down to enjoy time with people we love.

It always makes me happy to see Our lady of Guadalupe.
Did I ever mention I prayed a novena to her, just before
getting pregnant with Nicholas?  And my parents'
anniversary is on her feast day.

As I look forward to the sporting events and practices, music lessons, gift wrapping, homework, volunteer commitments, and everything else that needs to be accomplished over the next few weeks, it is so easy to feel overwhelmed, like a vise is tightening on my heart and I can't quite catch my breath.

But if I look at these things as gift, as opportunities to offer small sacrifices, and to pour love into my family -- to help prepare their hearts as well for the Love that is to come -- a different feeling settles on my heart.

I long for quiet to hear His voice, to help me on the path He desires for me this Advent.  I am excited to see the ways in which He might touch our hearts, and show us His love.  I am eager to do the work necessary, because I trust He will come, and I want our hearts and home to be ready.

This is a statue of St. Isaac Jogues.

I try to get my Christmas shopping done early, not only to help myself get organized and formulate a budget, but because I know how distracted I can get from the constant barrage of emails about sales, and promises of the Best Deal Ever (!).  Even when I think I am done, I find myself drawn in by the lure of a company's sales pitch, browsing through their online catalogue, wondering if I should pick up this or that item while it is at such a good price.  I guess that is a part of my "job" -- to look at what we need, and at birthdays and things ahead, and to try to get things we will purchase anyway at a good price.  It gets frustrating though, when I realize that whether I do or do not buy an item, looking into things online always sucks up more time than I'd expected.  Also, I don't think either decision (to buy or not to buy) has ever truly changed my life.

Not the way Jesus can, if I waste time with Him.

Nicholas and his cousin.  They are just less than nine months apart in age,
and it is fun to see them beginning to interact.
Nicholas certainly considers her one of his best friends!

When you are going to have a baby, you can't always imagine how you will fit in all of the time a baby needs -- but when the baby arrives, grace does to, and somehow everything that needs to, gets done.

Similarly, if we set aside time for God this Advent, everything else will somehow get done.  At least everything that matters.  We need Him to pour His love, and grace, and healing into our hearts.  If we make time to listen for His voice, new life can -- and will -- spring forth.

Let us welcome this Christmas with Jesus in our hearts.  Let us not turn Him away, saying there is no room at the inn.   Let us listen for His knock -- for He will knock this Advent -- and let us eagerly be waiting, ready to open the door.

 

Around the house...

I found this note and picture, by Kate:

"Wanted: Nick
For his cutenis"

Too cute!

Halloween recap

I'm not a big fan of Halloween, but I do love looking back at the pictures!

 

Like Elsa and Olaf:

 

 

 Nick loved this costume, and refused to take off his "head" when I thought he might be hot.  Last year, Kate and Nick coordinated their costumes as well:

 

 

Meghan was the Mad Hatter this year. She likes to make her own costumes, but this is getting more difficult as she gets older.  She was inspired by recently re-reading "Alice in Wonderland."  This was a tough costume to get right, but I thought it turned out great:

 

 

My boys like to be scary.  I'm not crazy about this, but as they get older, that seems to be the only kind of costume they are comfortable with, and I guess I can understand that.  And they are so low-key about it all.  Luke wore a costume we've been re-using for years, and combined it with a consignment sale mask to be a Zombie Pirate.  And Brendan was going to be a werewolf, but the mask made him wheeze.  So he grabbed some other mask that has been laying around the house for years, with no clear origin, and became someone from a movie so scary none of us has watched it, and hopefully never will.  But it was easy, and he was content, so we called it good enough!

 

 

My favorite Halloween costume memory is from when Luke was three.  He would not wear whatever costume I had for him, and we were getting very late.  Thankfully, I had an epiphany of sorts, and decided to just put him in some cozy winter PJs, with a robe.  He got to carry his beloved pillow, and we called him "Pajama Guy."  No one could tell that wasn't the look we'd intended all along.  I always think of that as a great parenting moment -- when I let go of my plans, and did what was best for my child.

 

One aspect of Halloween I do love is our annual visit to the pumpkin patch/petting farm/hayride/corn maze place.  I thought Nicholas would be the perfect age to enjoy these things this year, and I was right!!  He still talks about the tractor ride! And of course, his joy made us all have a great time!

 

 

Next up is Thanksgiving!  Now that's a holiday I REALLY love!!

"Broken Together"

I just discovered this video and song by Casting Crowns.  I remember once having a discussion in college led by a philosophy professor, about what must be an age-old question.  When people come together in a relationship, what is happening?  Is it two halves completing each other as a whole?  Two wholes somehow coming together to make a new whole together? 

Or maybe, as this song suggests, is it something different, something more humbling, but yet something more real, and beautiful?  What a gift that God made marriage a sacrament -- so we can have the gift of His Grace to pour over us, and to fill in all those cracks!

As I listened to this song, all I could think was, "Yes, that is real life!"

As much as we may love our spouse, God is the only One Who can make us complete.  Ideally, in marriage, the journey toward that completeness is at least one we can make together.

Praying the Rosary

After writing a bit in my last post about real methods for bringing about world peace, I came across this quote on Facebook, from Pope St. Pius X: "If you want peace in your heart, in your home, in your country, assemble together every night and say the rosary."

My Our Lady of Perpetual Help Rosary

 We have done this at times, and then seem to fall out of the practice.  I don't know why we allow that to happen, because although praying every night is not something always easily accomplished, our family has always experienced tangible graces from our efforts.

I am hoping, with the inspiration of Pope St. Pius X, and with the real need for prayer in our community, home, and world, we can rededicate ourselves to the family rosary.

Franciscan Rosary House shared this quote on Facebook.  I have been wanting to talk about their beautiful rosaries here for a while.  Not because they have asked me to, or because I am being reimbursed in any way -- I am not.  I just really love their rosaries.  Plus, Christmas is just around the corner, and who doesn't need gift ideas?

I love the detail on the painted beads on my Our Lady of Perpetual Help rosary.
I prayed a lot to Our Lady of Perpetual Help after my late miscarriage.
That certainly adds to the comfort I find in this rosary!

I discovered Franciscan Rosary House earlier this year, while looking for a rosary that would not break.  We have been given so many beautiful rosaries over the years, but they always break.  Yes, we can fix them.  We connect the little metal loops, and use pliers to seal them shut, but usually the rosary comes apart at another point shortly thereafter. 

I always thought we were the only family who gathered with pieces of rosaries, or whole ones that have come unlooped, until I shared our dilemma with an older mom, and she laughed and said they had the same experience. 

I ordered a Padre Pio rosary for Luke for his First Communion, and I started using it even before the big day.  The beads are strung on leather, and it seemed a bit stiff at first, but quickly softened and is now my favorite rosary. (This is partly why I had to order myself one recently!) Luke took it to school for October, when they pray the rosary at morning prayer, and said everyone thought his rosary was "cool."  Of course, it's not necessary that anyone thinks a rosary is cool, but it can't hurt, either!

Luke's Padre Pio rosary, which contains a relic.

I recently bought my husband a St. Jude rosary, and myself one dedicated to Our Mother of Perpetual Help.  My daughter Kate has been praying on one with a relic of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and my niece will get a beautiful one for her Confirmation next month with a Sacred and Immaculate Heart medal on it.  I love that there are many different saints represented on Franciscan House rosaries.  Also, they usually come with a black pouch and a holy card.

They are among the most reasonably priced rosaries I have found anywhere.  If you visit the sale page, the prices get even better.

This is Doug's St. Jude rosary.  The different wood
tones on the beads add so much character!
The medal contains a relic.

All of these rosaries are so beautiful, and so solid!  I truly feel like I am holding a weapon when I pray on these rosaries!  And now my family is guaranteed at least four whole rosaries when we re-implement this powerful family prayer.

Another beautiful part of these rosaries is the they are made by third-order Franciscans, who pray over the rosary, and who pray for you, before they send your order.

Please let me know if you give them a try!  Or even better, if you have thoughts on how we can remain more consistent with our family rosary! God bless you!



Shh!  This one is for my niece Ellie's Confirmation next month!

Isn't this a perfect bead for a teenage girl's rosary?

Take time to know God's Love

An hour spent listening to Catholic radio recently reminded me of an important, but oft-overlooked aspect of our faith.

We are called to give people the benefit of the doubt -- to give a positive interpretation to what may feel like someone's failings, rather than the negative interpretations that seem to step into our thoughts so much easier.

Even more important, though, is that we allow some of that positive light to shine on ourselves as well.

When I am kinder to myself -- when I remember that I am loved, and especially when I feel like I am loved -- it is easier to assume the best of those (often my children) with whom I share my day.

But when all I can see are my shortcomings, it's so hard to extend grace to others.  Not because I don't think they deserve it.  Not because I don't want to reach out and be loving to them. Simply because I can't give what I don't have.  I can't instill the warmth of Chist's love into another's heart when I feel unloveable and flawed.

At those times, I can't imagine why anyone would want anything from me at all, unless it would be to have me clean up the dishes or to run another load of laundry!

At those times, my whole mindset is operating on a big, ugly lie -- that I am unloveable -- so it's no wonder that all I really want to do is crawl out of my skin and hide in a hole somewhere.

I recently read "The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic" by Matthew Kelly, and the book has a powerful premise.  About seven percent of Catholics achieve everything the Church accomplishes in today's world.  What if we could reach out to, and help grow the faith of, enough people to increase that number by just one percent a year?  What if we could increase the number of active Catholics to just fourteen percent?  We could change the world.

A large part of what sets apart the seven percent is that they spend at least a small part of every day in prayer and spiritual reading.

God can and will use the time we give Him to transform our lives.  To pour graces and beauty into our lives.

My thought is that we can make that time even more powerful if, at some point in those minutes we give Him, we ask a simple question.

"Lord, help me to know Your love for me."

How much unrest, dissension, and distance from the faith comes from the simple fact that most people do not know He loves them?  Even we who know God loves us often struggle to really believe in it enough so that we can rest in it in those moments when we are face-to-face with our own struggles and failures.

If we dedicate time every day to pray, the message of God's love for us probably will ultimately become clear.  By why not just ask for this understanding from the beginning?   Knowing God loves us enables us to love others.  We can better accept others' failing when we know we too are loved, even though we are imperfect.  When we know Someone finds us beautiful, it is easier to see beauty in others.

When we refuse to forgive ourselves, when we hold ourselves to a higher standard than He ever would, we really are denying His forgiveness and Mercy.  How can these gifts flow through us to others, if we won't accept them?

Mother Teresa said, "The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty — it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There’s a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God."

She also said, "If we want a love message to be heard, it has got to be sent out. To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it."

If we want to help people know God's love, we must know it first.

When my children say they want world peace, I remind them of Mother Teresa's words, and that the only way to achieve world peace is to first build it within ourselves, and in relationships with our own family members.  How can we expect world peace, if we do not have peace in our own hearts and homes?

How can we share His peace and love with those closest to us, unless we first know His love for us?

So let's take the time to ask Him to help us know His Love.  Then, we can share that Love with those around us.  Then, we can be conduits of His Grace.  And then, we can transform the world.

 

 

Pope Francis: The Elderly are Gifts

Nicholas and Great Grandma (Doug's Grandmother)

More reasons to love Pope Francis -- his esteem for the role the elderly, and grandparents can and should hold in our lives.  He spoke yesterday (find that link here), and last November (here) about how individuals and nations need to maintain relationships with the elderly.  These are both beautiful rebuttals to last week's news about why Ezekiel Emanuel hopes to die at 75. (See my rant about that here.)

"But they (Elizabeth and Zechariah) were experts in faith, experts in God, experts in the hope that comes from him: and this is what the world needs in every age.  Mary was able to listen to those elderly and amazed parents; she treasured their wisdom, and it proved precious for her in her journey as a woman, as a wife and as a mother."  --Pope Francis' Sept. 28, 2014 Homily

Nicholas loves Great-Grandma.  I think all of her great-grandchildren are enamored with her, and it has often occurred to me that one reason for this is simply that she slows down with them.  As parents, that can be hard to do, at least as often as we'd like.  But when we visit with Great-Grandma, she likes nothing more than to play kitchen, or read books, or craft flowers out of clay.  The child gets her full attention.  What a gift that is!  Great-Grandma was an artist, and she has creative ideas about making dioramas, and little snowmen ornaments, and all kinds of things that wouldn't occur to me.  Our children benefit from her love, as well as from the talents with which God blessed her.  Great-Grandma may not see as well as she once did, but she certainly can love.  She (and Doug's Grandfather) also have taught me that the secret to a long, happy life is to stay active, to be involved in your children and grandchildren's lives, and to help out those around you as long as you can.  I hope to be like her when I grow up:-)

 

One cute story about Nick is that when I said something briefly the other day about "calling Great-Grandma," he perked right up, pointed to the phone in my hand, and said, "Call! Call!"

Little moment, big difference

So, school's been back for about a month now ... anyone else find themselves missing their kids?  Everyone is doing well with their teachers, and classmates, and sports, and I am thankful for that!  But sometimes in the whirlwind of keeping up with it all, I miss those slower times we were able to share during the summer.

My kids are more than happy to reconnect at bedtime, but I never feel like I can do justice to everyone's needs before I either just want to go sleep, or talk to my husband for a few minutes on the couch.

When you can find even small ways to connect with your kids, it can mean so much.  That's why I was so grateful this week when I got what felt like a Holy Spirit-inspired idea to let my oldest daughter know how much she means to me.

I had to pick her up from volleyball practice one day, and the other kids were at home.  We live very close to our school, so it was reasonable for me to leave everyone with the second-oldest to babysit for a bit.

I got to practice early enough to admire the ways she has grown on the court this season.  And as we got in the car and started talking, I told her we were going to driver through Wendy's for some fries.

I know, I know -- junk food.  Part of my husband's job involves educating people about how to make healthy food choices.  I know all about why we shouldn't eat French fries.

But my daughter likes them.  And at the moment, connecting with her was more important.

All stopping for fries did was give us maybe an extra ten minutes.  But that was long enough to talk about her day.  It was long enough for her to ask, "Why are we doing this?"  And for me to answer, "Just because I love you!"  And long enough for her to give a really beautiful smile in return!

When we got home, she wasn't quite done eating, so we added in a quick loop around the block for good measure.  By the time we got home, she said she didn't really have anything else to say -- but wished she did, so we could keep talking!

I was so grateful I found such a simple way to surprise one of my children with a gift of time.  How have you found ways to connect with your children?

Our Greatest "Kindness Remembered"

I wanted to post On Padre Pio's Feast Day, but a variety of factors made that difficult.

Mainly, the topic.

It is hard for me to write about the main reason that day is forever emblazoned in my memory, but there are some beautiful truths I discovered through it that I have been wanting to share for some time.  This is perhaps the greatest "kindness remembered" I have from my entire life experience.  So I have always felt I should share something.  But it has been difficult to know what, and more difficult to actually write it.

Seven years ago, we moved into our new home.  And on Sept. 23, I got into the van to take the keys to the owner of our old house.  My husband was standing right next to the car on the passenger side, we believed all of our children were in the house watching a movie (except the youngest, who was in her car seat), and I was pulling forward out of our driveway, with a full view of everything in front of me.

Or so I thought.

For, as I pulled forward, I ran over our 2-year-old son, Luke.

My husband, too late, saw what happened.  He saw my back tire run over my son's head.  I felt the bump, and from what can only be a whisper from my Guardian Angel, knew that it was not just from a random toy left in the driveway.

Today, Luke is a healthy boy with no harmful effects from the accident -- something that makes no sense to me, without God's intervention.  He suffered breaks in his collarbone, hip, and throughout his legs and ankles, but nothing that even needed to be casted.  I have heard countless stories of children being run over since that day, and unless the only body part affected was a hand, the child  -- except in one other story -- never survived.

I listened to the hospital staff explain, as he got better, how I couldn't have run over his head.  But in addition to my husband's testimony, I could see the tire tracks and cuts that clearly showed exactly where that tire had gone.  He still bears some faint marks today.

A dear friend who came to the hospital that day told me, while it was happening, while I was almost certain our son would die, because I couldn't imagine how he could live, that Jesus was kissing us.  She said in our suffering, we are closest to Jesus.

I felt that closeness.

As I held my son in our driveway, and cried that I needed him, I heard God speak to my heart, asking me to trust that if Luke did die, He would still care for all of us.  I couldn't imagine how I would survive, but He helped me trust that where He had been faithful in the past, He would continue to be faithful in the future.  It was not my son I could not live without; it was God.  And He would care for Luke as well.

As I walked the hospital corridors alone, after being told I could not accompany him in some scan they needed to do, as I felt the awfulness of the entire situation descend upon me, I felt Mary speak to my heart.  Simple, unexpected words that brought so much comfort: "Nothing is wasted."

Our suffering was not without meaning.  If we could open our hearts and let Jesus in, even in this, He could use it to some purpose.  We would perhaps never know what, but just knowing all of this pain was not for naught -- that when we walked with Jesus, our faithfulness helped it become part of something bigger -- flooded me with peace.  Those words have come back to me many times throughout the years, and they always bring that same sense of peace and strength.

And finally, God has a beautiful plan, for all of us.  At some point during that terrible, long day, it dawned on me that perhaps my son was going to live.  We had stood by his bedside as a priest had prayed over Luke and given him his last rites, but at some point, hours later, I realized there might be more to Luke's story.

A small phrase came to my mind: "I know the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord...."  Wasn't this from the Bible?  I walked out to the waiting room where that friend I mentioned was waiting with our family, and when I asked about it, she nearly leaped from her seat.  "Yes!  That was one of the readings this morning!"

She opened her Magnificat, and read the entire verse, from Jeremiah 29:11-12: "For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you."

At hearing those words, I knew Luke would survive.  I knew God still had a plan for his life.  And more than that, I knew this was a message for everyone.  God wants to give us all a "future and a hope."  He wants us to turn to Him in prayer, and to trust He hears us, and that He will answer us. 

We have a very Good Father, Who loves us very much.  We have a Father who can "make all things new." (Rev. 21:5)

And after the gift I have been given -- a precious, now nine-year-old boy with a tender heart and a great sense of humor -- how can I not share that message, even if the memories bring back some pain?  However big that pain may sometimes be, God's Love is always bigger.

There's value in the end of life

I came across a Facebook post today about a US policy-maker who thinks 75 is the best age to die.  He explains his reasons for why he will stop virtually all medical intervention at that point, including antibiotics.

Basically, life starts losing its worth once you start declining mentally and physically.  Also, he doesn't want to be a burden.

I have people in my own family who have been very clear about their desire to stop life, by any means, once they lose function, or are a burden.

But I don't think they know what they are saying.

In the past seven months, I have sat at the bedsides of two of my grandparents as they approached death, and there is one thing about which I am certain: God was at work.

In the minds and hearts of my grandparents.  In the minds, hearts, and lives of those around them.

Those hours were precious.  And the years preceding them, the 1-1/2 to nearly 2 decades beyond 75 that we got to enjoy these beautiful people in our lives?  Precious as well.

My husband would hardly have known them, and none of my children.  All those visits, all the times my children got to see -- "This is how we care for people." -- gone.  The times my daughter smiled so contentedly as we left my Grandma, saying that she knew she had just really been able to brighten someone's day -- Gone.  Knowing you have that kind of power, that your presence means so much, is a big deal for a preteen who is struggling with her sense of worth. Knowing you are loved just for being you is an amazing gift at any age.

What about my Grandma's joy at Nicholas' birth, the look on her face when she met him the first time?  What about my children loving people for who they are, not what they can contribute in terms of ideas or bottom line?  What about the Lego replica Brendan showed me through tears, of Opa sitting in his reclining chair? 

Here is the article, and below you will find my response.  This article was written as though it is merely one man's personal opinion, but that man is the director of the Clinical Bioethics Department at the U.S. National Institutes of Health.  Make no mistake about it -- this article was written to further an agenda that will pressure people into making similar decisions at all stages of life, decisions that help make a healthy bottom line for a struggling health care system.  Decisions that will strip our nation of more of its soul.

That this man has any public policy making power is disgusting and terrifying. He states: "The deadline also forces each of us to ask whether our consumption is worth our contribution." If each member of society needs to ask that question, many will need to consider taking his measures much earlier in life, sometimes even for their children -- something that is already happening when people abort children with certain health concerns. This is propaganda designed to make us feel better about making these decisions at any stage we aren't productive enough. Is that his solution to our health system?

Also, all Christian world view is clearly gone from this man, as he states: "But even if we manage not to become burdens to them, our shadowing them until their old age is also a loss. And leaving them—and our grandchildren—with memories framed not by our vivacity but by our frailty is the ultimate tragedy." He truly sees no value in learning to frame our lives around something other than our own wants?! Caring for others can be a cross, yes, but it also is where we can grow in love. I lost two grandparents this year, and every moment of our time with them was a gift. Sitting at their sides shortly before each of them died was a gift to me -- some of the most difficult and most beautiful times of my life. They were a gift to my children -- whenever we left them, my kids would be in the best moods for so long, because they had just spent time with people they knew without a doubt LOVED them so, so much. My children mourned their loss, and still do, not because they miss having adventures with them, but because they miss THEM. I am not arguing all medical means always need to be used, but this man's perspective on life misses the entire point. God works in lives at the end too. Perhaps, if we listen, at the end of our lives, we will be reminded that it is not our power and strength that ever mattered anyway. It is HIS. And perhaps that will help make our hearts more ready for heaven. THAT is really goal -- not that we were vibrant and never became a "burden ." (His words.) Maybe the problem isn't that some people are too frail to fit into our fast-paced lives. Maybe lives with no room for such people are the problem. Like the ghost told Ebenezor Scrooge, I think this man is confused as to who the "surplus population" truly is.

Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows

Would you join me in another novena?

Between today and Sept. 23, St. Padre Pio's Feast Day, I like to pray the Efficacious Novena to the Sacred Heart, which Padre Pio was said to pray every day for those who had asked for his prayers.

Each year, I choose an intention outside of my own family, usually for a child in need of prayers.  I will explain why at the end of the novena.  Please add your own intentions.  I believe this is a very powerful novena, begun and ended on some very beautiful feast days!

I. O my Jesus, You have said, ‘Truly I say to you, ask and it will
be given you, seek and you will find, knock and it will be
opened to you.’ Behold, I knock, I seek and ask for the grace of…

Our Father… Hail Mary… Glory be to the Father…
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.

II. O my Jesus, You have said, ‘Truly I say to you, if you ask
anything of the Father in my name, He will give it to you.’
Behold, in Your name, I ask the Father for the grace of…

Our Father… Hail Mary… Glory be to the Father…
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.

III. O my Jesus, You have said, ‘Truly I say to you, heaven and
earth will pass away but my words will not pass away.’
Encouraged by Your infallible words, I now ask for the grace of…

Our Father… Hail Mary… Glory be to the Father…
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.

O Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom it is impossible not to have
compassion on the afflicted, have pity on us poor sinners
and grant us the grace which we ask of You, through the Sorrowful and Immaculate heart of Mary, Your tender mother and ours.

Hail, Holy Queen… St. Joseph, foster father of Jesus, pray for us

Remembering Opa

 My Opa passed away Monday.

After getting a call late Friday that he had been placed in Hospice, my family packed up the campsite were we'd been vacationing, and drove four hours to see my Opa.

My biggest wish was to pray the Divine Mercy chaplet with/for him.  I have known about the chaplet for a long time, but I only recently discovered how powerful it is when said for a dying person.  In the two months I have known about this, I have been able to help it be said at the bedside of two of our loved ones.  God is good!

Jesus promised St. Faustina, to whom He gave the Divine Mercy chaplet, that "At the hour of their death, I defend as My own glory every soul that will say this chaplet; or when others say it for a dying person, the indulgence is the same" (Diary, 811)

When we arrived at the hospital for my Opa, I felt a bit frantic.  I did not want to run out of time!  We got to the room, and said our hellos, and then my husband took our children to another waiting area.  I was hoping to have a quiet moment alone with my Opa to pray the chaplet, but that was clearly not going to happen soon.  So I sat down next to him, and told everyone I was just going to quietly say a prayer.

My Opa couldn't talk at this point, and this side of my family is not Catholic, so I didn't know how people would respond.  But they were so eager for me to pray -- and they asked me to pray out loud!

For anyone not familiar with the chaplet, it is said on rosary beads, is so simple and fast, and really just calls on God's mercy.  I am so thankful our Lord gave us this prayer for an especially strong weapon to aid the dying, because it is welcoming.  I think for some people, especially non-Catholics, who must often be found at bedsides, the rosary may seem long, or off-putting.  But the Chaplet of Divine Mercy touches hearts so easily -- as evidenced by the tears I saw running down the faces of my family when I was done.

There is something so beautiful about praying at someone's bedside in this way!  In such a helpless time, you truly are doing the most tangible thing possible!

During my visits with my Opa over the next 24 hours, I was able to pray the chaplet again, late in the evening with my two oldest children.  I also was able to read him a Psalm, pray the Our Father and a spontaneous prayer with him, and share with him about one of the most difficult moments in my life, when I felt I heard God ask me to trust Him.

I told my Opa that I had realized yes, God had always been trustworthy in other hard events in my life; and that helped me trust He always would be.  I assured my Opa God loved him too.  He could trust God too -- God would take care of him through this journey.  And I told him God would care for my Nana as well.  I promised him we also would take care of her.

I thanked him for his love, for his beautiful, 64-year marriage, for his example of strength.

And I told him I loved him, too.

He couldn't speak, except with his eyes, but I think -- from the expression I saw in those eyes -- he was grateful.  I pray and hope my words -- God's words, and love -- helped him find peace through his difficult last days.

After all, my Opa helped me.

When I was young, and trying to climb the tree only the big kids could reach, he gave me a lift.

When I was young, and needed a hand to hold, he held it in his, and danced a skip-step with me, and sang "Doop-Dee-Doo" and "Tea for Two."

Throughout all of my life, even when I didn't realize I needed it, he and my Nana provided me with an example of a committed, loving marriage.

They provided me with lessons in the importance of family, and fun.  Opa was famous amongst our relatives for his barbecue chicken.  When our family got together, there was always "Opa's famous chicken," and brunches (for some reason he liked to add jelly to his omelets), and lots (LOTS) of other food, and hours upon hours of card playing, and fishing, and laugher -- so much laughter -- and togetherness.

Over the past decade, he had slowed down a lot.  But when we visited with our children, there was no doubt in their minds that they were somewhere where people loved them.  And our children love their great-grandparents right back.  My children have warmed my heart with the depth of love they have shown in their comments over the past few days.

My husband told me that whenever my Opa shook his hand, he felt a deep sense of warmth, appreciation, welcome, love: "And how can you not love someone who makes you feel like that?"

Opa and Brendan when he was a little guy.  Doesn't he resemble Nick?

Isn't it amazing -- the way you can touch others' lives simply by loving them?  What that handshake meant to my husband?  What simply knowing there was a home in Northern Michigan where they could visit any time, and always find hugs, and love, and food, meant to my kids?  How listening to my Opa and Nana call to sing "Happy Birthday" meant to each one of us when our big day arrived each year?

And for me -- what it meant to know there was one person to whom, when I said, "I love you," would always respond, "Not as much as I love you!"  I would argue with him a bit, but there it stood, and deep down, I suspected he was right.  I suspected there was something about being a grandparent that enabled him to love me even more than I loved him -- even though I did love him so much.  I told him I looked forward to hopefully someday discovering that love a grandparent has for their grandchildren.

I am so thankful that, instead of questioning (in fun) whether he could really love me more, last weekend I was simply able to look him in the eyes and say, "Thank you.  I know you love me so much. And it has meant the world to me."

May you rest in the Lord's presence and peace, dear Opa.

 

August 15, 1950