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There are things about childhood that you relive in your dreams. Maybe it is therapeutic for the mental issues we all have. For me, the long walks of my youth around the dikes of the camp where I grew up are a composite of long, friendly dreams. When I am lucky enough to have one of these dreams, I invariably awake in a sort of time daze, not sure if I am still between three and 16 or if the sad truth is that I am “grown up” and here in “normal” central Ohio.
When the bird banders came in the spring, I helped them set up their nets. Sometimes I even got to help them band the warblers that come through in a swarm of yellow, hurrying to their nesting grounds in northern Canada. My dad took me duck hunting a few times and, like any good daughter, I watched him skin at least a few hundred muskrats. One of the best adventures of my childhood happened in junior high, at that gray hormonal point in every person’s life when nothing is right with the world. No one understands you, strange things happen to your body and in my case my dad got remarried. My new stepbrothers, in spite of being goons, were wonderful for expanding my creativity, especially when it came to seeking out havens for myself. In our summer wanderings after sixth or seventh grade we happened upon a fallen willow. From the looks of it, lightning had struck it right down the middle. Rather than just falling and rotting, the six-foot base of the fallen tree listed to the side and kept on growing. It made a huge bridge, with nooks and crannies on the ground.
The tree house was hidden from view because of the overgrown path and brush. We managed to clear a path, although it took at least a week of solid clearing. We used the branches from the brush we cleared away to mask the booby traps we built into the path … to keep people away, of course, and to lure our unsuspecting friends. There was a kidney-U-shaped pond beside the tree. The tree was at the closed end of the U and though the pond often dried up in the summer (another great place to explore, with deep cracks and critters), it made for a much-need escape for me and my inevitable book. I used to go there—with books, with homework, with problems—and sit in the muted green. When I visit it in my dreams, I always think of praying, though in my adolescence that never occurred to me. Back then, I was pretty sure God could not hear me and if He could He was busy with more important stuff. After a time, my stepbrothers tired of the tree and so did I. Before long, family situations changed, we moved and the tree was forgotten in all but my infrequent dream visits. I found other refuges as I got older: school activities, educational pursuits, romance.
Sometimes my refuges were hiding places—from the weight of my problems, from the stress of my life, from the things I did not understand. Sometimes my refuges were places of comfort, places I went to let my hair down and be me, though I was often trying to figure out just who, exactly, “me” was. Sometimes, in the flurry and bustle, my refuges were times of peace, sanctuaries of silence, places of rest. I moved away and grew up, only to find that, in the loneliness of my soul, something was missing. I did not know what it was, but it seemed to be linked to a young man and his Sunday-morning habit. As I sat with him in Mass, holding his hand and fighting back the overwhelming desire to cry (and losing most of the time), I sensed that same feeling I felt back in our fallen tree. It was peace and silence and safety. I could hide from the things that disturbed me and settle in to be myself.
Once upon a time, there was a refuge in the Garden of Eden—it was paradise and it was perfect. Before the loss of innocence, there was peace. Now, living in the midst of our fallen world and my fallen self, I find my refuge is a glimpse of heaven. I go to her, my refuge and I snuggle in her lap. Her cool hands brush my hair off my forehead and she holds me. She does not talk. She does not distract me. She lets me be. When I am ready, she points me to her Son, whose arms have always been open, waiting. She understands that settling in, being myself, is not comfortable. I do not like what I see. I have sinned and fallen short; I have fallen, just as Adam and Eve did, again and again. I think of my early days of attending Mass and my childhood tree house when I hear Mary called refuge of sinners. I think of how my children run to me first when they are hurt and I imagine Jesus running to Mary, to feel the solace of her strong embrace and the comfort of her soothing words.
Did Joseph also go to Mary in his doubt, to find refuge in her unwavering faith, her ongoing assent to the divine plan? The disciples found her a refuge, from the three years of Jesus’ ministry to Pentecost to the present day. Jesus took on our sin—my sin—and died. What higher purpose could His mother have than to act as a refuge to the very ones he offered his life to save? Jesus wants us to have His mom for comfort, just as He did throughout His life.
In my sin, I always expect a place like prison, dark and cold, gray and unwelcoming: a punishment. Sinning makes me think of hell instead of repentance. Through my repentance in confession, I come closer to God. When I cooperate with the great graces God has waiting for me—and which His mother so gently and often points me toward—I can grow past my sin, past my imperfection, past my faults. Coming back to God, the ongoing conversion story of my life, makes me a better Christian. In being a better Christian, I am more like Mary, my refuge and the refuge of all sinners. She stands there, offering comfort, encouragement and peace. She reminds me that it is not about punishment or suffering; it is about God’s will.
Sarah Reinhard is an author and blogger at SnoringScholar.com.
Would my life ever return to normal? How can I possibly continue my work? Brooding over these, a terrible solution popped into my head… I was finding life extremely stressful. In my fifth year at college, the onset of bipolar disorder was hindering my efforts to complete my teaching degree. I had no diagnosis yet, but I was plagued with insomnia, and I looked frazzled and unkempt, which impeded my prospects of employment as a teacher. Since I had strong natural tendencies toward perfectionism, I felt so ashamed and feared that I was letting everyone down. I spiraled into anger, despondency, and depression. People were concerned about my decline and tried to help. I was even sent to the hospital by ambulance from the school, but doctors could find nothing wrong except elevated blood pressure. I prayed but found no consolation. Even Easter Mass—my favorite time—didn’t break the vicious cycle. Why wouldn’t Jesus help me? I felt so angry with Him. Finally, I just stopped praying. As this continued, day after day, month after month, I didn’t know what to do. Would my life ever return to normal? It seemed unlikely. As graduation approached, my fear increased. Teaching is a tough job with few breaks, and the students would need me to remain level-headed while dealing with their many needs and providing a good learning environment. How could I possibly do this in my current state? A terrible solution popped into my head: “You should just kill yourself.” Instead of casting off that thought and sending it straight back to hell where it belonged, I let it sit. It seemed like a simple, logical answer to my dilemma. I just wanted to be numb instead of under constant attack. To my utter regret, I chose despair. But, in what I expected to be my last moments, I thought of my family and the type of person I had once been. In genuine remorse, I raised my head to the heavens and said: “I’m so sorry, Jesus. Sorry for everything. Just give me what I deserve.” I thought those would be the last words I would utter in this life. But God had other plans. Listening to the Divine My mother was, by providence, praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet at that very moment. Suddenly, she heard the words loud and clear in her heart “Go find Ellen.” She obediently set aside her rosary beads and found me on the floor of the garage. She caught on quickly, exclaiming in horror: “What are you doing?!” while she pulled me into the house. My parents were heartbroken. There’s no rulebook for times such as these, but they decided to take me to Mass. I was totally broken, and I needed a Savior more than ever before. I longed for a come-to-Jesus moment, but I was convinced that I was the last person in the world He would ever want to see. I wanted to believe that Jesus is my Shepherd and would come after His lost sheep, but it was hard because nothing had changed. I was still consumed by intense self-hatred, oppressed by darkness. It was almost physically painful. During the preparation of the gifts, I broke down in tears. I had not cried for a really long time, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I was at the end of my own strength, with no idea where to go next. But as I wept, the weight slowly lifted, and I felt myself enfolded in His Divine Mercy. I didn’t deserve it, but He gave me the gift of Himself, and I knew that He loved me the same at my lowest point as much as He loved me at my highest point. In Pursuit of Love In the days to come, I could barely face God, but He kept showing up and pursuing me in the little things. I re-established communication with Jesus with the aid of a Divine Mercy picture in our living room. I tried to talk, mostly complaining about the struggle and then feeling bad about it in light of the recent rescue. Weirdly, I thought I could hear a tender voice whispering: “Did you really think I would leave you to die? I love you. I will never forsake you. I promise to never leave you. All is forgiven. Trust in my mercy.” I wanted to believe this, but I couldn’t trust that it was true. I was growing discouraged at the walls I was erecting, but I kept chatting with Jesus: “How do I learn to trust You?” The answer surprised me. Where do you go when you feel no hope but have to go on living? When you feel totally unlovable, too proud to accept anything yet desperately wanting to be humble? In other words, where do you want to go when you want a full reconciliation with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit but are too scared and disbelieving of a loving reception to find your way home? The answer is the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, and Queen of Heaven. While I was learning to trust, my awkward attempts did not displease Jesus. He was calling me closer, closer to His Sacred Heart, through His Blessed Mother. I fell in love with Him and His faithfulness. I could admit everything to Mary. Although I feared that I could not keep my promise to my earthly mother because, on my own, I was still barely mustering the will to live, my mother inspired me to consecrate my life to Mary, trusting that she would help me get through this. I didn’t know much about what that meant, but 33 Days to Morning Glory and Consoling the Heart of Jesus by Father Michael E. Gaitley, MIC, helped me understand. The Blessed Mother is always willing to be our intercessor, and she will never turn down a request from a child wanting to return to Jesus. As I went through the consecration, I resolved never to attempt suicide again with the words: “No matter what happens, I will not quit.” Meanwhile, I started taking long walks on the beach while I talked with God the Father and meditated on the parable of the prodigal son. I tried to put myself in the shoes of the prodigal son, but it took me some time to get close to God the Father. First, I imagined Him at a distance, then walking toward me. Another day, I pictured Him running towards me even though it made Him look ridiculous to His friends and neighbors. Finally, the day came when I could picture myself in the arms of the Father, then being welcomed not just to His home but to my seat at the family table. As I envisaged Him pulling out a chair for me, I was no longer a headstrong young woman but a 10-year-old girl with ridiculous glasses and a bob haircut. When I accepted the Father’s love for me, I became like a little child again, living in the present moment and trusting Him completely. I fell in love with God and His faithfulness. My Good Shepherd has saved me from the prison of fear and anger, continuing to lead me along the safe path and carrying me when I falter. Now, I want to share my story so that everyone can know God’s goodness and love. His Sacred Heart is welling up with tender love and mercy just for you. He wants to love you lavishly, and I encourage you to welcome Him without fear. He will never abandon you or let you down. Step into His light and come home.
By: Ellen Wilson
MoreYou may or may not be a good dancer, but you are still called to sway in this dance of life It was a beautiful morning; the sun was shining brightly, and I could feel its warmth seeping into my exhausted bones. By contrast, mentally, I was in great spirits, enjoying the beautiful Perth scenery as I strolled along the foreshore at Matilda Bay. I paused on the riverbank to allow the natural beauty to fill my senses. The melody of waves breaking on the shore, the cool breeze gently ruffling through my hair as it danced through the trees, the subtle scent of salt and bushland, the delicate mosaic of tiny white shells adorning the sand…I felt rather overwhelmed by the experience. An image of ballroom dancing flashed through my head. In my mind’s eye, I pictured God dancing with me... Syncing in When you begin ballroom dancing, there is a phase where your whole attention is focused on trying to remain in sync with your partner and avoid mistakes. You are consumed with fear of stumbling over the other person's feet or moving the wrong foot in the wrong direction. Consequently, this self-conscious effort to control your movements makes your body stiff and rigid, making it difficult for your partner to lead you in the steps of the dance. But if you loosen up, flow with the music, and let your partner be the guide, he will lead you in a beautiful, enchanting, rhythmic dance. If you allow this to happen, you will speedily learn to dance as beautifully as your partner, feeling your feet moving gracefully across the floor as you enjoy the rhythm of the dance. Hold My Hands Reflecting on that image, I felt as if God was saying: “You and I are partners in this dance of life, but we cannot dance well together if you don’t allow Me to lead you. I am the expert, guiding you to excel if you follow Me, but I cannot if you insist on keeping control. On the contrary, if you surrender yourself and allow Me to lead you in this dance, I will keep you safe, and we will dance beautifully. Do not be afraid to stumble on My feet because I know how to guide you. So, entrust yourself to My embrace and join Me in this dance together. Wherever the music takes us, I will show you the way.” As I pondered these thoughts, I felt a deep sense of gratitude to God, for always being present in my life, leading me in this dance. He knows my every thought and desire and never fails to bring them to fruition in ways I do not expect (Psalm 139). God accompanies each of us in this dance of life, always ready to take us in His arms and guide us expertly. Some of us are beginners, still taking baby steps, while others are advanced enough to assist the rest, but none of us are so advanced that we could ever afford to step away from the lead dancer. More Happier, Less Anxious Even Our Lady, God's perfect dancing partner, knows that her expertise in the dance comes from following His every move with perfect grace. From an early age, Mary accepted His loving embrace, following His lead perfectly in even the smallest things. Her ear was attentive to the rhythm of Heavenly music so that she never took a false step. Mary was perfectly at one with God in mind and heart. Her will was so in tune with God that she could utter: “Be it done to me according to Your will” (Luke 1:38). What God wants is also what Mary wants. If we let go of our desire to serve ourselves first and, like Mary, lose ourselves in the Lord’s embrace, our lives will be freer, happier, more meaningful, and less anxious, stressful, and depressing.
By: Father Peter Hung Tran
MoreWe always tend to fill in our calendars as much as possible but what if an unforeseen opportunity comes knocking? The New Year gives the impression that we have a blank slate before us. The upcoming year is full of possibilities, and resolutions abound as we rush to fill up our freshly printed calendars. However, it happens that many of those exciting opportunities and elaborate goals for the perfect year fall flat. By the end of January, our smiles are faltering, and old habits from the previous years creep back into our lives. What if we treated this year, this moment, a little differently? Instead of rushing to fill in all the white space on our calendars, why not give a little more room to blank space, to empty pockets of time where we don’t have anything scheduled? It is in these empty spaces we give the Holy Spirit the most room to work in our lives. Anyone who has moved from one home to another knows the surprising amount of space an empty room creates. As the furniture moves out, the room seems to continue to grow. Without anything left, it’s always a shock to think that enough space was ever a problem, look how big it is! The more a room is filled with rugs, furniture, wall hangings, and other possessions, the more close the space can feel. Then, someone visits your house with a gift in hand, and you turn and wonder—now, where will we put this? Our calendars can operate in much the same way. We fill each day with work, practice, games, commitments, prayer service—so many good and often seemingly necessary things. But what happens when the Holy Spirit comes knocking with an opportunity we didn’t foresee? Do we have space for Him on our calendar? We can look to Mary as an ideal model for how to be open to the Holy Spirit. Mary hears the words of the angel and freely receives them. In offering her life to God, she demonstrates the perfect disposition for receiving God’s gifts. Another way to think about this is with what Bishop Barron has called the ‘Loop of Grace.’ God wishes to give to us with abundance. When we open ourselves to God’s loving generosity, we recognize that everything we have is a gift. With joy, we give back to God in thanksgiving, restarting the loop. God reaches out to Mary, and she freely offers herself to His Will and purpose. She then receives Jesus. We see this again at the end of Jesus’ life. In utter sorrow and awful pain, Mary lets go of her precious Son. She doesn’t cling to Him as He hangs on the cross. In that painful moment, all seems lost, and her motherhood is emptied. She doesn’t flee, she remains with her Son, who has had to let her go. But then, Jesus gives her not just one son in John but sons and daughters for eternity in her motherhood of the Church. Because Mary remained open and receptive to God’s plan, even when it was the most painful, we now can call her , Our Mother. As the year continues, perhaps take some time to pray over your schedule. Have you already filled up your days with more than enough, maybe even too much? Ask the Holy Spirit to inspire you to consider what activities are necessary for His purposes and which are more for your own personal desires and goals. Ask for the courage to reorder your schedule, for the wisdom to say “No” when needed, so you can joyfully and freely say “Yes!” when He comes knocking on your door.
By: Kate Taliaferro
MoreShe was diagnosed with chronic OCD, and put on meds for a lifetime. Then, something unexpected happened. In the 1990s, I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The doctor prescribed me medication and told me I would have to take them for the rest of my life. Some people think that mental health issues happen because you lack faith, but there was nothing wrong with my faith. I had always deeply loved God and relied on Him in all things, but I also felt an abiding disabling guilt. I had not been able to shake off the belief that everything that was wrong with the world was my fault. I had a Law degree, but my heart had never been there. I had taken up law to impress my mother, who thought my choice of teaching as a profession wasn’t good enough. But I had married and given birth to my first child just before I finished it, then gone on to have seven beautiful children, so I had spent more time learning to be a mother than working in law. When we moved to Australia, the law was different, so, I went back to university to finally study my first love, Teaching. But even when I got a job doing what I loved, I felt that I was trying to justify my existence by earning money. Somehow, I didn’t feel that looking after my family and nurturing the people entrusted to me was good enough. In fact, with my crippling guilt and feeling of inadequacy, nothing ever felt enough. Totally Unexpected Because of our family size, it wasn’t always easy to get away on a holiday, so we were excited when we heard about the Carry Home in Pemberton where payment was a donation of what you could afford. It had a beautiful country setting close to forests. We planned to go for a weekend family retreat. They also had a prayer and worship group in Perth. When I joined, I was made to feel very welcome. There, at one of the retreats, something totally unexpected and overwhelming happened. I had just received prayer when I suddenly fell to the ground. Rolled up on the floor in a fetal position, I screamed and screamed and screamed. They carried me out onto this rickety old wooden verandah outside and continued to pray until eventually, I stopped screaming. This was totally unsought and unexpected. But I knew that it was deliverance. I just felt empty as if something had left me. After the retreat, my friends continued to check up on me and come to pray over me, asking for Mary’s intercession that the gifts of the Holy Spirit would become manifest in me. I felt so much better that after a week or two, I decided to reduce my dose of medication. Within three months, I had stopped taking the medication and felt better than I ever had. Melting Away I no longer felt the need to prove myself or pretend that I was better than I was. I didn’t feel that I had to excel in all things. I felt grateful for the gift of life, my family, my prayerful community and this tremendous connection with God. Freed of the need to justify my existence, I realized I could not justify my existence. It’s a gift–life, family, prayer, connection with God–these are all gifts, not something you are ever going to earn. You accept it and you thank God. I became a better person. I didn’t have to show off, compete, or arrogantly insist that my way was the best. I realized I didn’t have to be better than the other person because it didn’t matter. God loves me, God cares for me. Out of the grip of my disabling guilt, I have since realized that “If God didn’t want me, He would have made someone else.” My relationship with my mother had always been ambivalent. Even after becoming a mother, I was still struggling with these feelings of ambivalence. But this experience changed that for me. As God chose Mary to bring Jesus into the world, He had chosen Mary to help me on my way. My issues in the relationship with my mother, and subsequently with the Holy Mother, slowly melted away. I felt like John at the foot of the Cross when Jesus told him: “Behold your Mother.” I have come to know Mary as the perfect mother. Now, when my mind fails, the Rosary kicks in to rescue me! I never realized how much I needed her until I made her an indispensable part of my life. Now, I couldn’t imagine stepping away.
By: Susen Regnard
MoreAs an actor and director, Patrick Reynolds thought God was only for holy people. He failed to understand God’s plan until the day when he had a supernatural experience while reciting the Rosary. Here is his incredible journey. I was born and raised in a Catholic family. We went to Mass every week, said our daily prayers, attended Catholic school, and had lots of holy items in the house, but somehow the faith didn’t penetrate. Whenever we crossed the threshold, Mom would splash us with holy water, but unfortunately, we did not have a personal relationship with Jesus. I didn’t even know that was possible. I understood that God lived up in the clouds somewhere. He looked down upon us all, but in my own mind and heart, He was very distant and unobtainable. Although I learned about God, I didn’t learn who He was. When I was about ten, my mum started going to a charismatic prayer group, and I saw her faith become very real and personal. She was healed of depression, so I knew that God’s power was real, but I thought God was only for holy people like my mum. I longed for something deeper than what was being offered. When it came to the Saints, I didn’t understand their role and didn’t think they had anything to offer me because I didn’t think that I could be holy. Unfulfilled & Empty When I left school, I wanted to be rich and famous so that I could be loved by everybody. I thought that would make me happy. I decided that becoming an actor would be the easiest way to achieve my goals. So, I studied acting and eventually became a successful actor and director. It opened doors into a life I had never experienced and more money than I knew what to do with, so I spent it trying to impress important people in the industry. My whole life was a cycle of buying things to impress people so I could make more money to buy things to impress people. Instead of feeling fulfilled, I felt empty. I felt like a fraud. My whole life was pretending to be what other people wanted me to be. I was searching for something more but never understood that God had a plan for me. My life was all about parties, drinking, and relationships, but filled with discontent. One day, my mom invited me to a big Charismatic Catholic conference in Scotland. To be honest, I didn’t want to go because I thought I had put all that God stuff behind me, but moms are good at emotional blackmail; they can make you do things that no one else can. She said, “Pat, I’m going away to do mission work in Africa for two years. If you don’t come to this retreat, I won’t get to spend any time with you before I leave.” So, I went. I’m glad now, but at the time, I felt uncomfortable. It felt strange to see so many people singing and praising God. As I looked around the room judgmentally, God suddenly reached into my life. The priest spoke about the faith, Jesus in the Eucharist, the Saints, and Our Lady in such a real, tangible way that I finally understood that God was very close, not somewhere up in the clouds, and He had a plan for my life. Something More I understood that God had created me for a reason. I said my first sincere prayer that day, “God, if You are there, if You have a plan for me, I need You to help me. Show me in a way that I can understand.” People began to pray the Rosary, which I hadn’t prayed since I was very young, so I joined in any prayers I remembered. When they began to sing, something in my heart melted, and for the first time in my life, I experienced the love of God. I was so overwhelmed by this love I began to cry. It was through Our Lady’s intercession that I was able to come into the presence of God. I went to Mass that day, but I knew that I couldn’t receive communion because I hadn’t been to Confession in a long time. My heart was longing to be closer to God, so I spent the next few weeks preparing to make an honest, thorough Confession. As a child, I went to Confession regularly, but I don’t think I was ever really honest. I took in my shopping list of sins—the same three or four things every time. When I experienced absolution this time, I felt great peace and love. I decided that I wanted more of this in my life. To Act or Not? As an actor, it was very difficult to live my faith. Every part I was being offered contradicted my beliefs as a Catholic, but I didn’t have enough formation in the faith. I knew that I needed more help. I started going along to a pentecostal Church, where I met people who taught me about the Bible and how to praise and worship. They offered me mentorship, friendship, and community, but I couldn’t let go of Jesus in the Eucharist, so I remained in the Catholic Church. Every week they challenged my Catholic beliefs, so I would go and study my catechism to come back with answers for them. They helped me become a better Catholic, understanding why I believe. At one point, I had a mental and emotional block about why Catholics had such a devotion to Mary. “Why do you pray to Mary?” they asked, “why don’t you go straight to Jesus?” This was already on my mind. I struggled to find an answer that made sense. Saint (Padre) Pio was a miracle worker whose life inspired me to become a better person. As I read about how his devotion to Our Lady brought him deep into the heart of Christ and the Church and listened to Pope John Paul II, the witness of these two great men inspired me to trust and follow their example. So, I prayed every day for the Pope’s intentions through Mary’s Immaculate Heart. I went along to a Marian retreat to find out more. I heard about Saint Louis De Montfort’s great devotion to Mary and how talking to her in prayer is the quickest and simplest way to become like Jesus. He explained that there are two ways of making a statue—sculpt it arduously from a hard piece of material with a hammer and chisel, or fill a mold with resin and leave it to harden. Each statue formed in a mold follows its shape perfectly (as long as it is filled). Mary is the mold in which the Body of Christ was formed. God made her perfect for that purpose. If you are molded by Mary, she will form you perfectly, if you give yourself fully. When I heard this, I understood it to be true. When we prayed the Rosary, instead of just saying the words, I tried to pray the words with all my heart, meditating on the Mysteries. Something unexpected happened. I experienced the love of our Blessed Mother. It was like the love of God, and I knew it came from the love of God, but it was different. She helped me love God in a way that I had never been able to do on my own. I was so overwhelmed by this love that I was moved to tears of joy. Finding such a wonderful gift was like the treasure in the field from the parable. You’d be willing to sell everything to buy the field so you can keep this treasure. From that moment, I knew that I couldn’t continue acting. I couldn’t live in that secular world and be a good Catholic. I also knew that people needed to know about the love of God. So I put my career aside so I could evangelize. Digging Deeper I came to Knock in Ireland to ask God what He wanted. Our Lady appeared there in 1879 along with Saint Joseph, Saint John, and Jesus as the Lamb of God on the altar, surrounded by angels. Mary came to lead people to Jesus. Her role is to bring people to the Lamb of God. In Knock, I met the woman I would marry and the people who offered me a job doing mission work. I came for a weekend, and 20 years later, I’m still living in Ireland. My love for the Blessed Mother continued to grow once I learned to pray the Rosary properly. I had always found it very difficult to pray it on my own until I went to the National Shrine in Walsingham, England. In the small Chapel with the statue of Our Lady of Walsingham, I asked our Blessed Mother for the grace to pray and understand the Rosary. Something incredible happened! As I began to pray the Joyful Mysteries, in each Mystery, I understood that Our Lady wasn’t just Jesus’ mother, she was my mother, and I felt myself growing alongside Jesus through His childhood. So when Mary said “Yes” at the Annunciation to being the Mother of God, she was also saying “Yes” to me, welcoming me into her womb with Jesus. As Mary traveled to visit her cousin, I felt myself being carried in her womb with Jesus. And John the Baptist jumped for joy that I was there in the Body of Christ. In the Nativity of Christ, it felt like Mary gave new life to me, saying “Yes” to raising me. As she and Saint Joseph presented Jesus in the Temple, they also offered me to the Father, accepting me as their child. When they found Jesus in the Temple, I felt that Mary was also finding me. I had been lost, but Mary had been searching for me. I realized that Mary had been praying with my mom all those years for my faith to return. I helped found Holy Family Mission, a house where young people could come to learn about their faith and to get the formation they may have missed as children. We chose the Holy Family as our patrons, knowing that we come into the heart of Jesus through Mary. Mary is our mother, and in her womb, we are formed like Christ under the care of Saint Joseph. Grace upon Grace Our Blessed Mother was instrumental in helping me to find my wife at Knock and getting to know her as we worked alongside each other in a movement called Youth 2000, which centers around Our Lady and the Eucharist. On our wedding day, we consecrated ourselves, our marriage, and any future children to Our Lady of Guadalupe. We now have nine beautiful children, who each have their unique faith and devotion to Our Lady, which we’re so thankful for. The Rosary has become such an important part of my faith and a channel for so many graces in my life. Whenever I have an issue, the first thing I’ll do is pick up my rosary beads and turn to Our Lady. Saint John Paul II said it’s like taking her hand so she can lead through any dark times—a safe guide through troubles. Once, I had a falling out with a close friend, and I was finding it very difficult to be reconciled. I knew they had wronged me, and I found it hard to forgive. This person couldn’t see the hurt they had caused me and others. Part of me wanted to do something about it, part of me wanted to take vengeance. But instead, I put my hand in my pocket and picked up my rosary beads. I had only prayed one decade of the rosary, before this friend turned round with a changed countenance and said, “Pat, I just realized what I did to you and how much I’ve hurt you. I apologize.” As we embraced and reconciled, I recognized the power that Our Lady has to change hearts. Mary is the means God chose to enter this world, and He still chooses to come through her. I now understand that we don’t go to Mary instead of Jesus, we go to Mary because Jesus is within her. In the Old Testament, the Ark of the Covenant contained everything that was holy. Mary is the Ark of the New Covenant, the living tabernacle of the Source of all Holiness, God Himself. So, when I want to be close to Christ, I always turn to Mary, who shared the most intimate relationship with Him within her own body. In drawing close to her, I draw close to Him.
By: Patrick Reynolds
MoreSemi-paralysed after a poisonous spider bite, Marisana Arambasic felt her life ebbing away. She still clung to the Rosary for a miracle. I’ve been living in Perth, Australia for a very long time, but I am originally from Croatia. When I was 8 years old, I witnessed a miracle. A 44-year-old man with crippled legs was healed through the powerful intercession of Mother Mary. Many of us witnessed this miracle. I still remember running to him and touching his legs in awestruck wonder after he was healed. Despite this experience, I strayed away from God when I grew older. I believed that the world was my oyster. All I cared about was enjoying my life. My mom was worried because I was enjoying life in the wrong way. She offered Masses for me regularly. She asked Mother Mary to intercede on my behalf. Even though my mom prayed fervently for 15 years, I wasn’t any better. When my mom mentioned my case to a local priest, he said, “She lives at the moment in sin. Once she stops sinning, God will bring her to her knees, all the graces through the Holy Mass will be poured out, and miracles will happen.” The Venomous Bite This prediction came true when I turned 33 years old. As a single mom, I had hit rock bottom. Gradually, I turned back to God. I felt Mother Mary helping me through the difficult times. One day, a white-tailed spider bit me on the left hand. This is a venomous spider native to Australia. Though I was in good health, my body couldn’t recover from this spider bite. The pain was horrific. The left side of my body was paralyzed. I couldn’t see with my left eye. My chest, my heart, and all my organs felt like they were cramping. I sought help from specialists and took the medicines they prescribed, but I couldn’t recover. In my time of desperation, I grabbed my Rosary and prayed like never before. At first, I prayed the Rosary every day on my knees. Soon my condition worsened, and I could not kneel anymore. I was bedridden. There were blisters all over my face, and people were reluctant to even look at me. This increased my pain. I started to lose massive amounts of weight. The only thing I could eat were apples. If I ate anything else, my body would go into spasms. I could only sleep for 15-20 minutes at a time before I woke up with cramps. The deterioration of my health was difficult for my son, who was 15 years old at that time. He distanced himself by escaping into video games. Though I was close to my parents and siblings, they all lived overseas. When I told them about my condition, my parents immediately went to Medjugorje, where they met with a priest who prayed for me. At that exact moment, I was lying on a mattress on my kitchen floor because moving from one room to another was too difficult for me. I was suddenly able to get up and walk, although I still had some pain. I called my sister and came to know that a priest had prayed for the intercession of Mama Mary for my healing. I didn’t stop to think. I immediately bought tickets to go to Medjugorje. I was going against the advice of the medical specialists. My immunity was low, and my body was weak. Yet, I still decided to go. Up the Hill When I reached Croatia, my sister picked me up from the airport, and we reached Medjugorje that evening. I met the priest that had prayed with my parents. He prayed over me and asked me to climb up Apparition Hill the next day. During that time, I was still unable to eat anything but apples without my throat closing up. I still had blisters all over me. Yet I couldn’t wait to climb up the hill where Mother Mary had appeared. My sister wanted to come with me, but I wanted to go alone. I didn’t want anyone to witness my sorrow. When I got to the top, it was snowing. There were not many people there. I had a special moment with Mother Mary. I felt that She could hear my prayers. I asked for a second chance at life and for more time with my son. I prayed, “Jesus, have mercy on me.” As I came back down the hill, I was praying the Our Father. When I got to ‘give us today our daily bread,’ I felt sad because I could not eat bread. I deeply longed to receive the Eucharist but couldn’t. I prayed that I would be able to eat bread again. That day I decided to try and eat some bread. I had no negative reactions. Then, I slept for two hours straight. The pain and my other symptoms had decreased. It felt like heaven on earth. The next day I went back and climbed the Jesus Hill, which has a big cross at the top. I felt an overwhelming peace. I asked God to show me my sins from His perspective. As I climbed, God gradually revealed sins that I had forgotten. I was eager to go to confession as soon as I got back down the hill. I was so full of joy. Even though it took a while, I am now completely healed. Looking back, I realize that all of my sufferings have made me become a better person. I am more compassionate and forgiving now. Suffering can make a person feel lonely and desperate. Everything can fall apart, including your finances and marriage. During these times, you need to have hope. Faith allows you to step into the unknown and walk through unfamiliar paths, bearing your cross until the storm passes.
By: Marisana Arambasic
MoreNothing makes him so proud as to be called a ‘Mummy’s boy’. Rob O’ Hara narrates his beautiful life story of living close to the Mother of God Where did it all begin? Many years ago as a little boy, I grew up in Dublin as an only child with fantastic parents. They loved to pray the Rosary every single day without hesitation. Father Patrick Payton’s motto, “The Family that prays together, stays together” was the catch cry of my home life. I first remember encountering Our Lady when I was a little boy. Mum and Dad had invited people over to pray the Rosary in the month of May, Mary’s month. It didn’t mean much to me, but all of a sudden, as I sat among the crowd of people praying the Rosary, I felt a strong desire to pray. The scent of roses filled the air and I felt the presence of Our Lady. When the Rosary was finished, I felt the urge to keep praying and urged people to stay for longer, “Let’s pray another Rosary, Our Lady is here.” So, we prayed another Rosary, but that still wasn’t enough. People began to leave, but I stayed there and prayed another 10-15 Rosaries in the company of Our Lady. I didn’t see Her, but I knew She was there. When I was four or five years old, I experienced Our Lady’s grace and help for the first time in a tangible way. Back in the 80s, unemployment was high. My father had lost his job, and since he was in his mid-forties it wasn’t easy to get another one. I heard this story many times growing up, so the details are clear in my mind. My parents turned to Our Lady with trust. They started praying a Rosary Novena and at the end of the novena, my Dad got the job he really wanted. Nagging Emptiness When I hit my teens, I started noticing that faith, prayer and even talking about Our Lady was not “cool”. So I stopped praying the Rosary and found excuses not to be there when my parents prayed it. Sad to say, I fell into the secular world and really threw myself into that. I forgot about the peace, joy, and fulfillment I had found in prayer as a young boy and into my early teens. I threw myself into sports, socializing, and eventually, into my career. I was successful and popular, but I always had a gnawing emptiness inside me. I was longing for something, but I didn’t know what it was. I would come home to see my Mum and Dad praying the Rosary, and would laugh to myself and walk past. When this nagging emptiness continued to blight my life, I wondered why this void wouldn’t leave me, no matter what I did. Although I had a good job, I was being bullied so badly, I was falling into depression. One day, after another terrible day, I came home to see my parents on their knees, praying the Rosary as usual. They turned to me with delight and asked me to join them in prayer. I couldn’t think of an excuse, so I said, “Okay.” I picked up the rosary beads that were once so familiar to my touch and I bowed my head in prayer. Under Mary’s Mantle I went to Mass where some old friends noticed me sitting at the back of the church, so they invited me to join them at a prayer meeting. When I went, I was surprised to find other young people praying the Rosary. As I knelt to pray, all these delightful childhood memories of me praying this beautiful prayer flashed through my mind. Since I had broken that relationship with my “Mother” I had not talked with her for a very long time. I started pouring out my heart to Our Lady, regularly praying the Rosary on the way to work. Back in the motherly embrace of Mother Mary, all the dark areas of my life and the heaviness started drifting away and I started to have a great time at work. When I realized just how much Our Lady loved me, I started pouring out more and more of my heart to her. I felt enveloped in her blue mantle surrounded by peace and calm. People started to notice how happy I was and asked me what had changed. “Oh, I’m praying The Rosary again.” I’m sure my friends thought this was a little strange for a young man in his early 20s, but they could see how happy I was. The more I prayed, the more I fell in love with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament and the Eucharist. As my relationship with Jesus grew and I turned more and more to Jesus, I started getting involved in Catholic youth movements in Ireland like Pure in Heart and Youth 2000. I devoured books like “Total Consecration to Jesus through Mary” and “True Devotion to Mary” by Saint Louis De Montfort. His motto “Totus Tuus” which Saint Pope John Paul II had adopted, struck me deeply. I also said to Our Lady, “I give myself totally to you.” My faith grew as it was nurtured by these great organizations and I felt a superabundance of joy. I thought, “This is Heaven, this is great!” Finding “the one” I knew in my heart that I had a vocation to get married, but I just wasn’t meeting the right lady at that time. So I turned to Our Lady and asked her, “Help me find the perfect wife for me so that we can pray to you and love your Son together more deeply.” I prayed this prayer every day and I started thanking Jesus and Mary for my future wife, and the children I hoped we would blessed with. Three months later, I met my future wife, Bernie. On my first date I said to her, “Let’s go into the church and pray the Rosary to Our Lady.” Bernie could have said no, but she said, “Yes, let’s do that” and we knelt down before the statue of Our Lady and prayed the Rosary together. That was the best first date I have ever had and the last first date I ever had! Throughout our courtship we prayed the Rosary everyday to Our Lady and Saint Joseph to help us prepare for the sacrament and to be with us in our marriage. We got married in Rome and it was the best day of our lives. Shortly afterwards, Bernie conceived. When our little girl, Lucy was born, we consecrated her to Our Lady on her Baptism day. Stormy Days In the early years of our marriage, I left my job in the corporate banking world. It wasn’t the place for me for many reasons. While I was unemployed, trying to pay the rent and raise a young child, we prayed the Rosary for the right job to come. Eventually, our prayers were answered with a wonderful job for a charity organization called Human Life International. Glory to God and thanks to Our Lady! We were further delighted when Bernie conceived twin boys, however sixteen weeks into the pregnancy, we rushed into the hospital with Bernie in pain. Scans revealed that the twins wouldn’t survive. But instead of despairing, we turned to Our Lady. She was with us, encouraging us to really lean on her. We prayed that she would intercede for a miraculous healing. The week we spent in hospital, we were joyful, joking and laughing. We were so full of hope and never in despair. The hospital staff were amazed that this young couple going through such a difficult time were somehow keeping their joy and hope. I would kneel down at the bed and we would pray the Rosary, entreating Our Lady to be with us. We entrusted the twins to the care of Jesus and Mary, but on the 6th day we miscarried, and we entrusted our boys into their loving care. It was a difficult day. We got to hold them and bury them. But Our Lady was with us in our sorrow. When I felt weak, like I was crumbling on the ground, Our Lady held me up. When I saw my wife cry and knew that I had to stay strong, it was Our Lady who helped me. Signal Grace While we were still grieving, we went on a pilgrimage to Medjugorje. On the first day, we unexpectedly discovered that the Mass celebrant was our very good friend, Father Rory. Although he didn’t know we were there, his homily seemed to be directed at us. He described how a celebrity coped by picking up his Rosary when he tragically lost his young friend. The Rosary took him through that dark place. For us, that was a confirmation—a message from Jesus and Mary; we could get through this difficult time by turning to them and praying the Rosary. Two years later, we were blessed with another lovely little girl, Gemma. Afterwards, my father took ill and while he was on his death bed, my wife encouraged me to ask him who his favorite saint was. When I asked him, a beautiful smile lit up his face as he answered tenderly, “Mary…. because she is my mother.” I’ll never forget that. It was very near the end of his life and joy just radiated from him at the thought of what awaited him.
By: Rob O'Hara
MoreOn August 6, 1945 during World War II, an atomic bomb was dropped on the town of Hiroshima, Japan. 140,000 people were killed or injured. In the midst of the devastation, near the hypocenter of the attack, eight Jesuit missionaries who were in their rectory survived. None suffered hearing loss from the explosion. Their church, Our Lady of the Assumption, suffered the destruction of its stained glass windows but did not fall; it was one of only a few buildings left standing in the midst of widespread destruction. Not only were the clerics kept safe from the initial blast — they suffered no ill effects from the harmful radiation. Doctors who cared for them after the blast warned that radiation poisoning to which they had been exposed would cause serious lesions, illness and even death. But 200 medical exams in the ensuing years showed no ill effects, confounding the doctors who had predicted dire consequences. Father Schiffer, who was only 30 years old when the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, told his story 31 years later, at the Eucharistic Congress in Philadelphia in 1976. At the time, all eight members of the Jesuit community who had lived through the bombing were still alive. Before the gathered faithful, he reminisced about celebrating Mass in the early morning, then sitting down in the rectory kitchen for breakfast. He had just sliced and dug his spoon into a grapefruit when there was a bright flash of light. At first, he thought it might be an explosion in the nearby harbour. Then he described the experience: “Suddenly, a terrific explosion filled the air with one bursting thunder stroke. An invisible force lifted me from the chair, hurled me through the air, shook me, battered me, whirled me round and round like a leaf in a gust of autumn wind.” Next thing he remembered was that he opened his eyes and found himself on the ground. He looked around, and saw there was nothing left in any direction: the railroad station and buildings in all directions were gone. Not only did they all survive with (at most) relatively minor injuries, but they all lived well past that awful day with no radiation sickness, no loss of hearing, or any other visible long term defects or maladies. Asked why they believe they were spared, when so many others died either from the explosion or from the subsequent radiation, Father Schiffer spoke for himself and for his companions: “We believe that we survived because we were living the message of Fatima. We lived and prayed the Rosary daily in that home.”
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreThe Rosary Stops a Serial Killer Much has been written about the notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy. But here is a story that is only now gaining wide attention. And it gives powerful witness to the miraculous power of the rosary. On January 15, 1978, after taking the lives of two college students living in the Chi Omega sorority house of Florida State University, Bundy began combing the house for more victims. Carrying a bat, Bundy entered the room of his intended next victim, but suddenly stopped where he stood. Then he suddenly dropped the bat and left. The police wanted to know why this girl had survived the attack—why had Bundy stopped just inside her room and fled? The girl agreed to speak with the police, but only if there was a priest in the room. So,the officers called a nearby parish. Though he was not the priest on call that night, the phone rang in the room of Fr. William Kerr (later Msgr. Kerr) and he quickly rushed to the scene. The traumatized girl told the priest of a promise she had made to her grandmother when she had left home to start college. Each night, no matter how late she went to bed, she would pray the Rosary, to invoke the protection of the Blessed Mother. Yes, every night, even if she fell asleep after just a few decades. And in fact, that’s what had happened the night of the killings. Though sound asleep, she still clutched the rosary in her hands when Bundy entered her room. She stirred and saw a bat-wielding man standing over her. Without thinking, she opened her hands, exposing the rosary. Bundy saw the beads and immediately left. Weeks later, Fr. Kerr received another late-night call, though again he was not the priest on duty. This time, the caller was the warden of the nearby prison. Bundy had just been apprehended and requested to speak with a priest. Fr. Kerr met with Bundy that night and continued to receive regular calls from him up to and including the night before Bundy’s execution, when he thanked Fr. Kerr for the help he had given him. Bundy confessed to having committed over thirty murders in his lifetime. But one life, the life of a young girl who had made a promise to her grandmother, that life he didn’t take. Was that life spared because rosary beads fell from her hands? Bundy never said. But we can be sure that there is power in the Rosary, that there is safety under the mantle of Mary’s protection, and that there is spiritual growth and sustenance that comes from praying the mysteries of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreWant to know the easiest way to Heaven? My mother and grandmother had a great devotion to Our Lady and the Sacred Heart. As children, we prayed often to Mary for the many things we needed. Even when we were trying to find a lost doll or a bike that was stolen, we turned to Our Lady. My father used to work in the construction sector. When work was scarce, which it often was, my mother prayed to Mary, and inevitably, a short time later, a contractor would call offering work for my father. Because we thought it was too long, most of us kids ran and hid whenever we heard the word “Rosary”. But our mother would eventually find us and bring us together to pray. Unfortunately, as we got older, Our Lady became less important to us than when we were children. Back in Mary’s Arms In 2006, the Saint Patrick’s Community came to our parish to give a mission. Each day consisted of Holy Mass in the morning, and talks and testimonies in the evening. Towards the end of the week, I found my heart was beginning to change. A wave of childhood memories of praying to Our Lady washed over me, and I recalled the important role she played in our lives. I longed to recapture my childhood relationship with Mother Mary. On the final day of the Mission, we celebrated a beautiful Holy Mass. Afterwards, the children of the parish gathered round lighting candles to Our Lady. We adults joined them. While we were lighting candles and praying, the children asked many questions about the Blessed Mother: “Where she is now?” they wanted to know, and “How can we talk to her?” They prayed fervently, with eyes closed and hands joined. Again, I felt the desire to recapture my childhood piety. I started speaking to Our Lady in the same way I did as a child. We adults are sometimes content to speak to her but not with her. We don’t speak to her as we would to our mothers. During the parish mission, I relearned how to relax with Our Lady and let my prayers flow out of me. In the car one day with my young daughter Sarah, I said that I’d love to see Our Lady. She replied that it would be “so cool.” Then she said, “Hold on Mommy, we do see Our Lady. We see her every day, but nobody takes the time to really see her or speak to her.” I was so astonished by her comment that I nearly drove off the road. What Sarah said felt wise. When I turned to ask her to explain, she was back playing with her doll. I was convinced her comment was inspired by the Holy Spirit. “Although you have hidden these things from the learned and wise, you have revealed them to the childlike” (Matthew 11:25). Holding Mary’s Hands Of course, my devotion to our Blessed Mother includes recitation of the Rosary. Though it’s an important and beautiful prayer, for many years I struggled to pray it because I hadn’t yet gotten over my childhood complaint that it was too long. But I began to recognize the importance of the Rosary when I started to meditate on the life of Jesus. Before that, the Rosary was a prayer I rushed to get over and done with. But as I reflected on the life of Jesus, Our Lady taught me that the Rosary brings us deeper into His heart. Because she is the Mother of God and our mother, too, we can rely on her taking us by the hand, and leading us into that deeper walk with Christ that only she fully understands. As we move through life, the difficulties we encounter can cause us to doubt God’s love or distance us from Our Lady. My sister-in-law died of cancer when she was only forty-two, leaving behind a husband and three children. At such times, it’s natural to ask, “Why did this happen?” But who can understand our trials better than Mary? She stood at the foot of the Cross and watched her Son suffer and die. She can be a companion for us on any road we walk, including the road of suffering. The Shortest Way to Christ’s Heart It was through Our Lady that God led me to my heart’s desire. But it took some time. Through her I came to understand the importance of the Eucharist. Sometimes people's devotion to Our Lady doesn’t lead to greater knowledge of Christ. But Our Lady is all about her Son, and about bringing us into a deeper relationship with Him. Through Our Lady I have made the total consecration to Jesus. It’s a personal journey with Mary to her Divine Son. Mary is a guide always leading us to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In 2009, I went to Medjugorje after hearing that Our Lady was appearing there to six young children. It’s a simple but beautiful place where peace is tangible. There was a statue of the Sacred Heart in Medjugorje around which many pilgrims gathered to pray. When it was my turn to approach it, I drew close, closed my eyes, and prayed with my hand on the shoulder of the statue. But when I opened my eyes, I found that my hand was resting not on the shoulder but on the heart of Jesus! My simple prayer had been, “Jesus, I don't know you as well as I know your mother.” I believe Our Lady was telling me, “Well, now it's time. It's time you go to my Son's Heart.” I was unaware that the following day was the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus! A New Ministry Is Born In August 2009, a visiting priest inspired me to start the Divine Mercy devotion in my parish. I had expected to do something related to the Rosary, but in hindsight I see that Our Lady was bringing me straight to her Son. I also scheduled Divine Mercy talks throughout Ireland, and prayers for the Apostolate of Eucharistic Adoration. Eventually, I was invited to help plan the International Eucharistic Congress held in Ireland—all things I never imagined doing! It was at the end of the Eucharistic Congress that the seed of my ministry was planted in my heart. Because I had found so much joy and grace flowing from the Eucharistic Congress, I asked myself, “Why does this have to end after one week of grace? Why can't this continue?” Through God’s grace, it didn’t end. For the past ten years, I have been coordinating The Children of the Eucharist, set up under the auspices of the Apostolate of Eucharistic Adoration in Ireland. The objective of the ministry is to enhance the faith of our children and bring them closer to Christ through Adoration. This ministry was born when I recognized the need for children to learn more about Eucharistic Adoration and to experience it regularly in a child-friendly way. After piloting the program at our local primary school, the program quickly spread to many schools throughout Ireland. As a youngster, I had hoped eventually to pursue nursing or some other profession, but those dreams faded when I married young at 22. After starting the Children of the Eucharist Apostolate, a priest told me, “Maybe if you had become a nurse, you wouldn’t be nursing souls now. You are nursing children in Adoration, helping them, and guiding them.” Not only did Mother Mary lead me closer to her Son, but she inspired me to help children draw closer to Him as well. When we give our fiat, our deepest “yes” to Our Lady, a journey begins. She moves within our fiat, bringing us into a deeper union with Jesus and fulfilling His plans for our lives.
By: Antoinette Moynihan
MoreChristmas is not just a day but a season of celebrating joy and hope. Hanging lights, stars, and Christmas trees make the occasion colorful, but it is undoubtedly incomplete without a nativity scene. Have you ever wondered how the tradition of staging the nativity scene began? Greccio, a small town in Italy, was home to peasants who led a peaceful agricultural life. More than 800 years ago, Brother Francis, returning from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, obtained permission from Pope Honorius III to re-enact the birth of Jesus, the scene of which he had just visited. So on Christmas Eve of 1223, inside a cave in Greccio, villagers disguised as Saint Joseph and Mother Mary acted out the historical event that only Bethlehem had seen. Francis welcomed more life to the holy night act with a rag doll representing the Christ Child; he even brought an ox and a donkey, giving the villagers a visual treat. He then stood before the manger, full of devotion and piety, his face bathed in tears and radiant with joy; the Holy Gospel was chanted, and he preached about the nativity of the poor King. Unable to even utter His name for the tenderness of His love, Francis called Him the Babe of Bethlehem. Master John of Greccio, a valiant soldier and a dear friend of Brother Francis, who, for the love of Christ, had left the worldly affairs, witnessed Francis cradling a beautiful infant in his arms so gently as if he feared the baby might wake up. Doubtless, the baby was the Christ Child Himself because a trail of miracles followed the scene. It is said that the hay of that manger, being preserved by the people, miraculously cured the cattle of many diseases and other pestilences! Brother Francis turned out to be none other than Saint Francis of Assisi, one of the most famous Saints in the Church’s history, whose very name excites every heart with the compassionate love of Christ!
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreI told my best friend: “The Church could really use someone like you in this broken world…” Somewhere, it resonated deep. My best friend and I met three years ago. We didn't become very close right away because, for starters, Dave takes a good while to warm up to people, and more importantly, people here in prison are a lot more guarded than those on the outside. Over time, however, that all changed, and Dave has since become my closest ally. Not long after I met Dave, it became clear to him that I was very serious about my Catholic faith. I had a Crucifix and pictures of Saints hanging on the wall of my cell. I watched and participated in Mass on television, and to be honest, I brought the topic up quite frequently. At first, Dave didn't make any comments or show much interest in my faith; he would just politely nod his head and move on, but something was telling me that I shouldn't let that hinder me from sharing all about what I believed and telling stories about the miracles and peace that I'd received directly from being Catholic. Returning to the Roots As time progressed and I became closer to Dave, he began to open up a little bit more about his own faith. He told me he was a Christian but he hadn't really been to services in years, partly because he had been locked in a cell for so long, unable to move around the prison compound. But as I dug deeper, I found out, to my astonishment, that Dave was actually raised as a Catholic. Not only that, but he had received all three Rites of Initiation! I immediately began to ask him question after question and learned a lot more about him and his faith journey. Of the many things I discovered, one really stood out. To this very day, Dave has had a fascination with the Catholic knights of old. Because of that, the favorite church he had ever attended was a Catholic church that was round in shape, reminiscent of the Knights Templar churches. I could sense through this fascination that there was still some interest in the Church, even if it was just a small one. Talking to Dave about a possible return to his roots was not as promising, however. Let me be clear—he was never rude or aggressive, but he didn't seem to have any desire for the Sacraments. He was resigned to his habits, and they didn't include Catholicism, and unfortunately, the Church had all but forgotten about him. A Glimmer of Hope As the months went on, Dave would ask little questions about the Church. Nothing big, just showing a bit more interest as time ticked by. Of course, I didn't want to make him feel pressured, so I patiently and prayerfully continued my mission to bring him back to the Church. I could sense that there was more of a glimmer of hope than before and I would sometimes say to him: "You know Dave, the Church could really use someone like you in this broken world." He never would answer me, only musing over my words silently, but for Dave, a lot is said in his silence. A few weeks ago, a group of Catholic deacons came to visit with us in our cells. They brought Communion for Catholics, and literature for everyone, and went from cell to cell asking if people would like to pray with them. Sometime after they left, Dave came to my cell and told me about how one of the men had surprised him because they spoke about a particular round shaped church the man was a parishioner of. This happened to be the very same one Dave had gone to as a kid. He said the man had told him he hoped to see him there one day. The next thing Dave told me was a big surprise: "You know, I've been thinking about it, and I might like to go back to the Catholic Church." I was dumbfounded. I'd been waiting for this type of interest for literally three years, and I knew it was possible it would never come. I’d prayed for it time and again. I didn't know what to say. After a prolonged silence, I asked him: "Would you be interested in receiving Communion again?" He said he was. The Open Door At 15, Dave was charged as an adult and sentenced to life in prison. He is now 48. When he went to prison as a mere child, he tried to fit into a world of adult criminals. There's been plenty of violence and bloodshed in his story. Most people who go down his road are so jaded in the end that it seems nothing can bring them back, but now, Dave was interested. Praise God! Last week, Dave received Communion for the first time in 33 years. He had never once received Jesus in prison, though it had been available all the time. He had been forgotten in the system. Due to the impossibility of receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation, he did not go to Confession first but was allowed to receive Communion circumstantially. He is in a maximum-security cell block and has the highest security risk rating, so they have trouble allowing a priest to visit one-on-one. So, he made a thorough examination of conscience and an act of contrition and will make a Confession at the first opportunity. Never Forgotten There are innumerable forgotten people all over the world. There are men, women, and even children in your own community who need someone to just be a friend and share their love and the faith Christ has given us in His Church. Let's continue to spread the Good News. If you have been away from the Church and Her life-giving Sacraments, there is an open invitation for healing starting with the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The first step back into fellowship with God and His Church is confessing our sins, but remember, while we are certainly confessing our sins to God, even more so, God is using this time to confess to us in a very special way, His forgiveness and love. Nothing is too big to be forgiven, and nothing is too great to stand in the way of God's healing; the door is always open to forgiveness and mercy. Contact a local church or parish priest and make plans to attend the next scheduled Sacrament of Reconciliation. Be sure to show up a little early in case others are waiting as well. You'll be glad you've made this step, and the Angels and Saints in Heaven will rejoice at your homecoming.
By: Jon Blanco
MoreI was so busy teaching my kids all about faith, that I forgot this integral lesson… “Wait! Don’t forget the Holy Water!” My six-year-old had decided he was ready to lead bedtime prayers by himself. Shaking the bottle of Holy Water—in case the ‘holy’ had sunk to the bottom—he blessed us and began: “God, we love You. You are good. You love us. You even love bad guys. We thank you, God. Amen.” My stunned silence filled the room. This simple prayer touched my heart deeply. My son had just shown me how to pray with the simplicity of a child of God. As a parent, sometimes it’s hard for me to step out of my ‘grown-up’ mindset. I spend a lot of energy trying to help my kids form good habits and grow in the faith, but often I lose sight of what my kids teach me about loving Jesus. When my son mustered courage and prayed aloud, he reminded me that simple, spontaneous prayer is important in my daily relationship with Christ. He taught me that, despite feeling unsure or clumsy, my prayers still please the Lord. A Real Challenge As adults, the swirling complexities of family life, schedules, and work responsibilities often consume us and make it difficult to simply talk with the Lord. Saint Teresa of Calcutta understood this real challenge and gave some advice to her own Missionary of Charity sisters: “How do you pray? You should go to God like a little child. A child has no difficulty in expressing his little mind in words, but they express so much … Become as a little child.” Jesus Himself showed us the importance of learning from children: “He called a little child to Him, and placed the child among them. And He said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven.’” (Matthew 18:2-4) How can you and I learn to pray like a child? First, ask God for courage and humility, and invite the Holy Spirit to guide you. Next, find a quiet place away from noise and technology. Begin your prayer with the sign of the Cross and your favorite devotional name for God. I have found in conversation that using someone’s name deepens connection. (The Hebrew name for Jesus–Yeshua–means ‘the Lord is salvation’ so if you are not sure which name to use, go simple. “Jesus” will do!) Securing a Direct Line Now, it’s time to talk with the Lord. Pray out loud, spontaneously, and tell God whatever comes to your mind—even tell Him if you feel awkward or distracted. Still unsure where to start? Thank God for something, ask Him to transform your heart and pray for someone by name. Do your best and be patient with yourself. Your willingness to discover the simplicity of child-like prayer pleases the Lord very much. God delights in His children! So, embrace the invitation to learn from your children. Together you can learn to enter into a deeper relationship with Christ. Pray for courage and humility as you learn to talk with the Lord. Be intentional, and you will discover the joy and simplicity of praying as a child of God!
By: Jody Weis
MoreSilence is difficult even for adults, so imagine my surprise when I was instructed to train kids in that language! Catechesis of the Good Shepherd (CGS) is a Catholic catechetical model developed by Sofia Cavalletti in the 1950s, which incorporates Montessori education principles. One of the pioneering aspects of Dr. Maria Montessori’s work was her cultivation of times of silence for her children. In Dr. Montessori’s Own Handbook, she explains: “When the children have become acquainted with silence … (they) go on to perfect themselves; they walk lightly, take care not to knock against the furniture, move their chairs without noise, and place things upon the table with great care … These children are serving their spirits.” Each Sunday morning, anywhere between ten and twenty children, aged between three to six, gather in our atrium for catechesis. In CGS, we say ‘atrium’ rather than a classroom because an atrium is a place for community life, prayerful work, and conversation with God. During our time together, we make time for silence. The silence is not stumbled upon but purposefully made. It is also not a tool for control when things get noisy; it is regularly prepared for. This is what I have especially learned from these children. True silence is a choice. Practise Makes Perfect In the CGS atrium, we speak about ‘making silence.’ We don’t find it, we aren’t surprised by it. With a regular routine, with intention and attentiveness, we make silence. I didn’t realize how little silence was in my life until I was asked to purposefully make silence each week. This is not for a long time, only fifteen seconds to a minute, two at the most. But in that brief period, my entire focus and goal was making my whole self to be still and silent. There are moments in my everyday routine where I might encounter a period of quiet, but the silence itself was not the goal of the moment. I may be driving in the car alone, perhaps a few minutes of quiet while my children read or are otherwise occupied in another area of the house. After reflecting on the practice of making silence, I have begun distinguishing between ‘found quiet’ and ‘made silence.’ Making silence is a practice. It involves not only pausing one’s speech but also one’s body. I am sitting in silence as I type these words, but my mind and body are not still. Perhaps you are sitting in silence while you read this article. But even the act of reading negates the making of silence. We live in a very busy world. Background noise abounds even when we are at home. We have timers, televisions, reminders, music, vehicle noise, air conditioning units, and doors opening and closing. While it would be lovely to be able to enclose ourselves in a soundproof room to practice making silence in the utmost quiet, most of us do not have such a place available. This does not mean we cannot make authentic silence. Making silence is about quieting ourselves more than insisting on quiet in our environment. The Art of Listening Making silence provides the opportunity to listen to the world around you. By stilling our body, stilling our words, and as best we can, stilling our minds, we are able to listen with greater attentiveness to the world around us. At home, we more readily hear the air conditioning unit working, which gives us the opportunity to be thankful for its cooling breeze. When outdoors, we hear the wind rustle the leaves of the trees or can appreciate more fully the birdsong around us. Making silence is not about the absence of other sounds, but about discovering silence and stillness within your own self. As people of faith, making silence also means listening with the ears of our hearts for the whispering of the Holy Spirit. In the atrium, every so often, the lead catechist will ask the children what they heard in the silence. Some will answer with the things one might expect. “I heard the door close.” “I heard a truck drive by.” Sometimes, however, they astonish me. “I heard Jesus say I love you.” “I heard the Good Shepherd.” We can learn a great deal from making silence. Practically speaking, we learn self-control and patience. But even more importantly, we learn to rest in the beauty of the truth of Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”
By: Kate Taliaferro
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1 Comment
Interesting, but l have never seen the rosary as being repetitious. I see it as giving Our Lady a beautiful rose with each bead. Would handing someone 50 roses be repetition? I guess that is a special grace that Jesus and His beautiful mother have given me.