Pope Francis, “Fratelli Tutti,” and the Universal Destination of Goods
In the wake of the publication of Pope Francis’ most recent encyclical letter Fratelli Tutti, there was a great deal of negative commentary regarding the pope’s attitude toward capitalism and private property. Many readers interpreted Francis to mean that the capitalist system is, in itself, exploitative and that the holding of private property is morally problematic. Like most who write in a prophetic mode, Pope Francis is indeed given to strong and challenging language, and therefore, it is easy enough to understand how he excites opposition. But it is most important to read what he says with care and to interpret it within the context of the long tradition of Catholic social teaching.
First, in regard to capitalism, or what the Church prefers to call the “market economy,” the Pope has this to say: “Business activity is essentially ‘a noble vocation, directed to producing wealth and improving our world’” (Fratelli Tutti, 123). He thereby distances himself from any ideology that would simply demonize capitalism, and clearly affirms that a morally praiseworthy economic arrangement is one that not only distributes wealth but creates it through entrepreneurship. Moreover, he argues, a certain selfinterest, including the taking of profit, is not repugnant to the moral purpose of economic activity: “In God’s plan, each individual is called to promote his or her own development, and this includes finding the best economic and technological means of multiplying goods and increasing wealth” (123). In making these observations, Francis stands firmly in the tradition of St. John Paul II, who saw the market economy as an arena for the exercise of human creativity, ingenuity, and courage, and who endeavored to draw ever more people into its dynamism. He also reiterates the teaching of the founder of the modern Catholic social tradition, the great Leo XIII, who, in Rerum Novarum, strenuously defended private property and, using a number of arguments, repudiated socialist economic arrangements. So I hope we can put to rest the silly canard that Pope Francis is an enemy of capitalism and a cheerleader for global socialism.
Now, without gainsaying any of this, we must, at the same time, point out that, like all of his papal predecessors in the social teaching tradition, without exception, Francis also recommends limits, both legal and moral, to the market economy. And in this context, he insists upon what classical Catholic theology refers to as the “universal destination of goods.” Here is how Francis states the idea in Fratelli Tutti: “The right to private property is always accompanied by the primary and prior principle of the subordination of all private property to the universal destination of the earth’s goods, and thus the right of all to their use” (123). In making the distinction between ownership and use, Pope Francis is hearkening back to St. Thomas Aquinas, who made the relevant distinction in question 66 of the secunda secundae of the Summa theologiae. For a variety of reasons, St. Thomas argues, people have the right to “procure and dispense” the goods of the world and hence to hold them as “property.” But in regard to the use of what they legitimately own, they must always keep the general welfare first in mind: “In this respect man ought to possess external things, not as his own, but as common, so that, to wit, he is ready to communicate them to others in their need.”
Now, in regard to this distinction, Thomas himself was the inheritor of an older tradition, stretching back to the Church Fathers. Pope Francis quotes St. John Chrysostom as follows: “Not to share our wealth with the poor is to rob them and take away their livelihood. The riches we possess are not our own, but theirs as well.” And he cites St. Gregory the Great in the same vein: “When we provide the needy with their basic needs, we are giving them what belongs to them, not to us.” The simplest way to grasp the distinction between ownership and use is to imagine the scenario of a starving man coming to the door of your house late at night and asking for sustenance. Though you are in your own home, which you legitimately own, and behind a door that you have understandably locked against intruders, you would nevertheless be morally obligated to give away some of your property to the beggar in such desperate need. In short, private property is a right, but not an “inviolable” right—if by that we mean without qualification or conditions—and saying so is not tantamount to advocating socialism.
What we might characterize as something of a novelty in Pope Francis’ encyclical is the application of this distinction to the relations between nations and not simply individuals. A nation-state indeed has a right to its own wealth, garnered through the energy and creativity of its people, and it may legitimately maintain and defend its borders; however, these prerogatives are not morally absolute. In Francis’ words, “We can then say that each country also belongs to the foreigner, inasmuch as a territory’s goods must not be denied to a needy person coming from elsewhere” (124). This is not “globalism” or a denial of national integrity; it is simply Thomas Aquinas’ distinction between ownership and use, extrapolated to the international level.
Once more, lest we see Pope Francis’ teaching here as egregious, I would like to give the last word to Leo XIII, ardent defender of private property and equally ardent opponent of socialism: “When what necessity demands has been supplied, and one’s standing fairly taken thought for, it becomes a duty to give to the indigent out of what remains over” (Rerum Novarum, 22).
© Bishop Robert Barron is the founder of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries and is the bishop of the Diocese of Winona–Rochester. Bishop Barron is a #1 Amazon bestselling author and has published numerous books, essays, and articles on theology and the spiritual life. ARTICLE originally published at wordonfire.org. Reprinted with permission.
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From being a healthy Uni-student to a paraplegic, I refused to be confined to a wheelchair… In the initial years of University, I slipped a disc. Doctors assured me that being young and active, physiotherapy, and exercises could make me better, but despite all effort, I was in pain every day. I had acute episodes every few months, which kept me in bed for weeks and led to repeated hospital visits. Nevertheless, I held on to hope, until I slipped a second disc. That's when I realized my life had changed. Angry at God! I was born in Poland. My mom teaches theology, so I was brought up in the Catholic faith. Even when I moved to Scotland for University and then to England, I held onto it dearly, maybe not in a do-or-die manner, but it was always there. The initial phase of moving to a new country wasn’t easy. My home had been a furnace, with my parents fighting among themselves most of the time, so I had practically run away to this alien land. Leaving my difficult childhood behind, I wanted to enjoy my youth. Now, this pain was making it difficult for me to hold down jobs and keep myself financially balanced. I was angry at God. Yet, He wasn’t willing to let me go. Trapped at home in acute pain, I resorted to the only available pastime—my mother’s collection of religious books. Slowly, the retreats I attended and the books I read led me to realize that despite my distrust, God really wanted my relationship with Him to be strengthened. But I was also not totally over the anger that He wasn’t healing me yet. Eventually, I came to believe God was angry at me and didn’t want to heal me so I thought maybe I could trick him. I started looking for a holy priest with good ‘statistics’ for healing so that I could get healed when God was busy doing other things. Needless to say, that never happened. A Twist in My Journey One similar day in a prayer group, I was in so much pain. Fearing an acute episode, I was planning to leave when one of the members there asked if there was something I would like them to pray for. I was having some trouble at work, so I said yes. As they were praying, one of the men asked if there was some physical illness that I needed praying over. They were way down on my ‘healing rating’ list, so I didn’t trust that I would receive any relief, but I said ‘Yes’ anyway. They prayed and my pain was gone. I returned home, and it was still gone. I started jumping and twisting and moving around, and I was still okay. But nobody believed me when I told them I was healed. So, I stopped telling people; instead, I went to Medjugorje to thank Our Lady. There, I had an encounter with a man who was doing Reiki and wanted to pray over me. I refused, but before leaving he gave me a goodbye hug which left me worried because I recalled his words that his touch has power. I allowed fear to take over and falsely believed this evil’s touch was stronger than God. I woke up the next morning in excruciating pain, unable to walk. After four months of relief, my pain returned so acutely that I thought I wouldn’t even be able to make it back to the UK. When I returned, I found that my discs were touching the nerves, causing even more drastic pain for months. After six or seven months, the doctors decided that they needed to do the risky procedure on my spine that they had been keeping off for a long time. The surgery damaged a nerve in my leg, and my left leg was paralyzed knee-down. A new journey began there and then, a different one. I Know You Can Do it The very first time I arrived home in a wheelchair, my parents were terrified, but I was filled with joy. I loved all the technological stuff…every single time someone pressed a button on my wheelchair, I was excited like a kid. 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I looked at Jesus like I had never seen Him before. It was a stunning image. He looked so beautiful! I never saw that picture anywhere after that. All through Mass, the Holy Spirit was enveloping my soul. I was simply saying in my head ‘Thank you’ even though I didn’t know what I was thankful for. I wasn’t able to ask for healing, and it was frustrating because I needed healing. When adoration started I asked my mom to take me to the front, as close to Jesus as possible. There, seated up front, I felt someone touching, and massaging my back. I was getting so warm and cozy that I felt like I would fall asleep. So, I decided to walk back to the bench, forgetting that I could not ‘walk.’ I just walked back and my mom ran after me with my crutches, praising God, saying: “You are walking, you are walking.” I was healed, by Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. As soon as I sat down, I heard a voice saying: “Your faith has healed you.” In my mind, I saw the image of the woman touching the cloak of Jesus when He was passing. Her story reminds me of mine. Nothing was helping until I reached this point where I started trusting Jesus. The healing came when I accepted Him and told Him: “You are all I need.” My left leg had lost all its muscles and even that grew back overnight. It was very significant because the doctors were measuring it before, and they found an astounding, unexplainable change. Shouting it Out This time around when I received the healing, I wanted to share it with everyone. I wasn't embarrassed anymore. I wanted everyone to know how amazing God is and how much He loves all of us. I'm no one special and I haven't done anything special to receive this healing. Being healed also doesn't mean that my life became super-comfortable overnight. There are still difficulties, but they are much lighter. I take them to the Eucharistic Adoration and He gives me solutions, or ideas on how I can deal with them, as well as the assurance and trust that He will deal with them.
Ever experienced what it’s like to be in adoration? Colette’s beautiful account could be life-changing for you. I remember that as a child, I used to think that speaking to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament was either the most incredible or crazy notion. But that was long before I encountered Him. Years from that initial introduction, I now have a treasure trove of little and big experiences that hold me close to the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus, leading me ever closer, one step at a time…The journey is still on. Once a month, the parish I attended then held an all-night vigil which would start with the celebration of the Eucharist, followed by adoration throughout the night, broken up into hours. Every hour began with some prayer, a Scripture reading, and praise; I recall, during the initial months, the first stirrings of that feeling of being so close to Jesus. Those nights were so focused on the person of Jesus and there, I learnt to speak to the Blessed Sacrament, as if Jesus Himself was standing there. Later on, at a retreat for young adults, I came upon silent Eucharistic Adoration, which felt strange to me at first. There was nobody leading, and no singing. I enjoy singing in Adoration and I've always enjoyed people leading us in prayer. But this idea that I could sit and just be, that was new…At the retreat, there was a very spiritual Jesuit priest who would start adoration with: “Be still and know that I am God.” And that was the invitation. Me and You, Jesus I remember one specific incident that brought a profound realization of this stillness to me. I was at Adoration that day, my designated time had come to an end and the person who was supposed to be taking over from me hadn't arrived. While I was waiting, I had a distinct impression from the Lord: “That person is not here but you are,” so I decided to just breathe. They'd be here any minute I thought, so I focused on the presence of Jesus and was simply breathing. I realized, however, that my mind was leaving the building, getting busy with other cares, whereas my body was still there with Jesus. Everything that was going on in my mind suddenly camped. It was just a sudden moment, almost over before I realized what was happening. A sudden moment of stillness and peace. All the noises outside the chapel felt like music, and I thought: “My goodness, Lord, thank You…Is this what adoration is supposed to do? Lead me into a space where it's just me and You?” This made a deep and lasting impression on me, that the Eucharist is not something, it is Someone. In fact, it's not just someone, it is Jesus Himself. Priceless Gift I think our perception of His presence and gaze plays a big role. The thought of the eye of God fixed on us may feel very scary. But in reality, this is a gaze of compassion. I experience that full-on in adoration. There is no judgment, only compassion. I'm someone who is very quick to judge myself, but in that gaze of compassion from the Eucharist, I'm invited to be less judgmental of myself because God is less judgmental. I suppose I'm growing into this in a lifetime of continuous exposure to the exposed Eucharist. Eucharistic adoration has thus become for me a school of presence. Jesus is 100% present everywhere we go, but it's when I sit in His Eucharistic presence that I'm alerted to my own presence and His. There, His presence meets mine in a very intentional way. This school of presence has been an education in terms of how to approach others too. When I'm on duty in the hospital or the hospice and I'm meeting someone very ill, being a non-anxious presence to them is the only thing I can offer them. I learn this from His presence in Adoration. Jesus in me helps me be present to them with no agenda–simply to ‘be’ with the person, in their space. This has been a great gift to me because it frees me to almost be the Lord's presence with others and to allow the Lord to minister to them through me. There is no limit to the gift of peace that He gives. Grace happens when I stop and let His peace wash over me. I feel that in Eucharistic adoration, when I stop being so busy. I think that in my lifetime of learning so far, that's the invitation: “Stop being so busy and simply be, and let Me do the rest.”
Adversities mark our lives on earth, but why would God allow that? About two years ago, I fronted up for my yearly blood test and when the results came back, I was told I had ‘Myasthenia Gravis.’ Fancy name! But neither I nor any of my friends or family had ever heard of it. I imagined all the possible terrors that may be ahead for me. Having lived, at the time of diagnosis, a total of 86 years, I had incurred many shocks. Rearing six boys was full of challenges, and these continued as I watched them build their families. I never gave into despair; the grace and power of the Holy Spirit always gave me the strength and trust I needed. I eventually depended on Mr. Google to learn more about ‘Myasthenia Gravis’ and after reading pages of what may happen, I realized I just had to trust my doctor to help me through. He, in turn, put me in the hands of a specialist. I went through a rocky road with newer specialists, changing tablets, more trips to hospital, and eventually having to give up my license. How could I survive? I was the one who drove friends to different events. After much discussion with my doctor and family, I finally realized that it was time to put my name down for acceptance into a nursing home. I chose Loreto Nursing Home in Townsville because I would have opportunities to nurture my faith. I was faced with many opinions and advices—all legitimate, but I prayed for guidance from the Holy Spirit. I was accepted into Loreto Home and made up my mind to accept what was on offer. It was there that I met Felicity. A Near-Death Experience A few years ago, there was a 100-year-flood in Townsville and a reasonably new suburb went under water with most houses inundated. Felicity’s house, like all others in the suburb, was low set, so she had about 4 feet of water throughout the entire house. As the soldiers from the Army Base in Townsville took up the task of a massive cleanup, all the residents had to find alternate accommodation to rent. She stayed at three different rental properties during the next six months, simultaneously helping the soldiers and working towards making her home livable again. One day, she began to feel unwell and her son, Brad, called the doctor on call, who advised on taking her to the hospital if things did not get better. The next morning, Brad found her on the floor with a swollen face and immediately called the ambulance. After many tests, she was diagnosed with ‘Encephalitis,’ ‘Melioidosis’ and ‘Ischemic attack,’ and remained unconscious for weeks. The contaminated flood waters she had waded through six months ago, it turns out, had contributed to an infection of her spinal cord and brain. As she floated in and out of consciousness, Felicity had a near-death experience: “As I was lying unconscious, I felt my soul leaving my body. It floated out and flew up very high to a beautiful spiritual place. I saw two people looking at me. I went towards them. It was my mother and father—they looked so young and were so happy to see me. As they stood aside, I saw something amazing, a stunning face of Light. It was God the Father. I saw people from every race, every nation, walking in pairs, some holding hands…I saw how happy they were to be with God, feeling at home in Heaven. When I woke up, I was so disappointed that I left that beautiful place of peace and love that I believed was Heaven. The priest who was tending to me all throughout my time in hospital said he had never seen anyone react as I did when I woke up.” Adversity into Blessings Felicity says she always had faith, but this experience of imbalance and uncertainty was enough to ask God: “Where are you?” The trauma of the 100-year-flood, the massive clean-up afterwards, the months of setting up her home while living in rental properties, even the nine months in hospital of which she had little memory of could have been the death of her faith. But she tells me with conviction: “My faith is stronger than ever.” She recalls that it was her faith that helped her deal with what she went through: “I believe I survived and came back, to see my beautiful granddaughter go to a Catholic High School and finish Year Twelve. She is going on to University!” Faith believes all things, heals all things, and faith never ends. It is in Felicity that I found the answer to a common question we all may face at some point in life: “Why does God allow bad things to happen?” I’d say that God gives us freewill. Men can initiate bad events, do evil things, but we can also call on God to change the situation, to change the hearts of men. Truth is, in the fullness of grace, He can bring good even out of adversity. Just as He led me to the nursing home to meet Felicity and hear her beautiful story, and just as Felicity found strength in faith as she spent endless months in the hospital, God can change your adversities into goodness too.
When your path is swarming with difficulties, and you’re feeling clueless, what would you do? The summer of 2015 was unforgettable. I was at the lowest point of my life—alone, depressed, and struggling with all my strength to escape a terrible situation. I was mentally and emotionally drained, and felt that my world was going to end. But strangely, miracles unfold when we least expect them. Through a string of unusual incidents, it almost seemed as if God was whispering in my ear that He has got my back. On that particular day, I had gone to bed desperate and broken. Unable to sleep, I was once again pondering the sad state of my life as I clutched my rosary, attempting to pray. In a strange kind of vision or dream, a radiant light began emanating from the rosary on my chest, filling the room with an ethereal golden glow. As it slowly started to spread, I noticed dark, faceless, shadowy figures at the periphery of the glow. They had been closing in on me with unimaginable speed, but the golden light grew brighter and drove them farther away whenever they tried to come close to me. I felt frozen, unable to react to the strangeness of the vision. After a few seconds, the vision suddenly ended, plunging the room into pitch blackness again. Deeply disturbed and afraid to sleep, I turned on the TV. A priest was holding up a Saint Benedict medal* and explaining how it offered a divine protection. As he discussed the symbols and words inscribed on the medal, I glanced down at my rosary—a gift from my grandfather—and saw that the Cross on my rosary had the same medal embedded into it. This triggered an epiphany. Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I realized that God was with me even when I thought my life was crumbling into ruin. A fog of doubt lifted from my mind, and I found solace in the knowledge that I was no longer alone. I had never realized the meaning of the Benedictine medal before, so this newfound belief brought me great comfort, strengthening my faith and hope in God. With immeasurable love and compassion, God was ever-present, ready to rescue me whenever I slipped. It was a comforting thought that embraced my being, filling me with hope and strength. Revamping My Soul This shift in perspective propelled me on a journey of self-discovery and growth. I stopped viewing spirituality as something distant and remote from my everyday life. Instead, I sought to nurture a personal connection with God through prayer, reflection, and acts of kindness, realizing that His presence is not confined to grand gestures but could be felt in the simplest moments of everyday life. A complete transformation did not happen overnight, but I began to notice subtle changes within myself. I’ve grown more patient, learned to let go of stress and worry, and embraced a newfound faith that things will unfold in accordance with God’s will if I place my trust in Him. Moreover, my perception of prayer has shifted, evolving into a meaningful conversation stemming from an understanding that, although His benevolent presence may not be visible, God listens and watches over us. Just as a potter sculpts clay into exquisite art, God can take the most mundane parts of our lives and shape them into the most beautiful forms imaginable. Belief and hope in Him will bring better things into our lives than we could ever accomplish on our own, and enable us to remain strong despite all the challenges that come our way. *Saint Benedict Medals are believed to bring divine protection and blessings to those who wear them. Some people bury them in the foundations of new buildings, while others attach them to rosaries or hang them on their home walls. However, the most common practice is to wear the Saint Benedict medal on the scapular or embed it in a Cross.
I approached Him for success in my studies, but He didn’t stop there… During my high school years, I experienced a remarkable journey of faith and academic growth. As a devout Catholic, I firmly believed that God's presence was constantly with me, especially when it came to my studies. I remember one particular semester, I was facing a daunting load of exams and assignments. The subjects seemed to pile up, and I felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information I needed to grasp. Doubt started to creep into my mind, making me question my abilities. In those moments of uncertainty, I turned to prayer as my source of solace and guidance. Each evening, I would retreat to my room, light a candle, and kneel before my crucifix. I poured my heart out to God, expressing my fears and doubts while asking for strength, wisdom, and clarity in my studies. An Invisible Guide As the weeks went by, I noticed something extraordinary happening. Whenever I encountered a challenging topic or struggled with a difficult concept, I would find unexpected clarity. It was as if a light was being shone upon my path, illuminating the way forward. I would stumble upon helpful resources or passages in books that perfectly explain complex ideas, or receive unexpected support from classmates and teachers. I started to realize that these were not mere coincidences but rather, the signs of God's presence and help in my academic journey. It was as if He was guiding me, gently nudging me towards the right resources, the right people, and the right mindset. As I continued to trust in God's guidance, my confidence grew, and my grades began to improve. I noticed a marked difference in my ability to absorb information and comprehend complex concepts. I was no longer studying alone; I had an unseen companion by my side, guiding me through every challenge and encouraging me to persevere. But it wasn't just about the grades. Through this experience, I learned valuable lessons about faith and trust. I learned that God's help was not limited to spiritual matters but extended to every aspect of our lives, including our studies. I learned that when we turn to God with sincere hearts, He not only hears our prayers but also provides the support we need. Keeping Connected This journey taught me the importance of maintaining a strong connection with God, seeking His guidance, and trusting in His plan. It reminds me that true success is not measured solely by academic achievements but also by the growth of character, resilience, and faith. Looking back, I am grateful for the challenges I faced during that semester, as they deepened my relationship with God and strengthened my conviction in His unfailing assistance. Today, as I continue my academic pursuits, I carry the lessons learned during that time, knowing that God's divine guidance will always be there to lead me on the path to knowledge and fulfillment. In a world where academic pressures can often consume us, it is essential to remember that we are not alone in our journey. As Catholics, we have the privilege of seeking God's guidance and finding solace in His presence all the time. Through this personal story, I hope to inspire others to trust in God's unwavering support, not only in their studies but in every aspect of their lives. May we all find comfort in knowing that God is our ultimate teacher, guiding us toward wisdom, understanding, and unshakeable faith.
What would you do when a stranger knocks at your door? What if the stranger turns out to be a difficult person? He says his name with emphasis, in Spanish, with a certain pride and dignity, so you’ll remember who he is—Jose Luis Sandoval Castro. He ended up on our doorstep at Saint Edward Catholic Church in Stockton, California, on a Sunday evening when we were celebrating our patron feast day. Somebody had dropped him off in our relatively poor, working-class neighborhood. The music and the crowd of people apparently drew him like a magnet to our parish grounds. Unveiling the Truth He was a man of mysterious origins—we did not know how he arrived at the church, let alone who and where his family was. What we did know was that he was 76 years old, bespectacled, dressed in a light-colored, well-worn vest, and was pulling his luggage by hand. He carried a document from the Immigration and Naturalization Service granting him permission to enter the country from Mexico. He had been robbed of his personal documents and carried no other identification with him. We set about exploring and discovering who Jose Luis was, his roots, his relatives, and whether they had any contact with him. He hailed from the town of Los Mochis in the state of Sinaloa, Mexico. Anger, vitriol, and venom spewed from his mouth. He claimed that his relatives had ripped him off and robbed him of his pension in the United States, where he had worked for years, as he went back and forth to Mexico. The relatives we contacted claimed they tried to help him on various occasions, yet he called them thieves. Who were we to believe? All we knew was that we had a wandering, regular drifter from Mexico in our hands, and we could not abandon him nor put the old, infirm man out on the street. Coldly, callously, one relative said: “Let him fend for himself on the streets.” He was a man of bluster, bravado, and gruffness, yet he flashed signs of vulnerability again and again. His eyes would water, and he would almost sob as he told how people had wronged and betrayed him. It seemed like he was all alone, deserted by others. The truth was—it was not easy to help him. He was ornery, stubborn, and proud. The oatmeal was either too chewy or not smooth enough, the coffee was too bitter and not sweet enough. He found fault with everything. He was a man with a gigantic chip on his shoulders, angry and disappointed with life. “People are bad and mean, they’ll hurt you,” he lamented. To that, I retorted that there were ‘Buena gente’ (good people) too. He was in the arena of the world where good and evil intersect, where people of goodness and kindness mixed together, like the wheat and chaff of the Gospel. More than a Welcome No matter his defects, no matter his attitude or his past, we knew we should welcome him and help him as one of the least of the brothers and sisters of Jesus. “When you welcomed the stranger, you welcomed me.” We were ministering to Jesus himself, opening the doors of hospitality to him. Lalo Lopez, one of our parishioners who took him in for a night, introduced him to his family, and took him to his son’s baseball game, observed: “God is testing us to see how good and obedient we are, as His children.” For several days, we put him up in the rectory. He was weak, spitting out phlegm every morning. It was obvious he could no longer roam and drift freely as he was accustomed to doing in his younger days. He had high blood pressure, over 200. On one visit to Stockton, he said he was hit behind the neck near a downtown church. A son in Culiacan, Mexico, said he “engendered me” and that he never really knew him as his dad, for he was never around, always traveling, heading for El Norte. The story of his life began to unfold. He had worked in the fields, harvesting cherries, many years ago. He had also sold ice cream in front of a local church a few years ago. He was, to quote the Bob Dylan classic song, “like one with no direction home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone.” As Jesus left the 99 sheep behind to rescue one stray sheep, we turned our attention to this one man, apparently shunned by his own. We welcomed him, housed him, fed him, and befriended him. We came to know his roots and his history, the dignity and sacredness of him as a person, and not just as another throwaway on the streets of the city. His plight was publicized on Facebook by a woman who transmits video messages of missing persons to Mexico. People asked: “How can we help?” One man said: “I’ll pay for his ticket home.” Jose Luis, an illiterate man, rough and unrefined, came to our parish fiesta, and by the grace of God, we tried, in some small way, to emulate the example of Saint Mother Teresa, who welcomed the poor, the lame, the sick, and the outcasts of the world into her circle of love, the banquet of life. In the words of Saint John Paul II, solidarity with others is not a feeling of vague compassion or shallow distress at the misfortunes of others. It is a reminder that we commit to the good of all because we are all responsible for one another.
‘Set a timer for five minutes and thank God for this person.’ I bet you are wondering what on earth I’m talking about. Sometimes, we forget to talk to God about unsettled situations regarding the people God places in our lives. Many times, I forget this. One day, by God’s grace, I chose to do something about the lack of peace in my heart. Several years ago, I was having a difficult time with someone in my life. I’ll skip the details. My problem was that it really bothered me. Have you ever been in a situation like this? I made a decision to talk to a priest about it and went to Confession. After he heard my confession, the priest gave me absolution and my penance. Guess what my penance was? If you said ‘set a timer,’ you are absolutely right! He said: “I want you to spend five minutes thanking God for this person.” Five Minutes Five Minutes? Yikes! Determined, I said to myself, I can do this. I left the Church and went to my car. I set my watch for five minutes, and immediately, I was stuck. Wow, this is really difficult! Slowly, I found little ways to thank God for this person. I checked my watch…ugh, only one minute passed. I continued to pray with all my heart. I want to do this! Again, I began thanking God. As the minutes slowly passed by, it became easier and easier. My five minutes still wasn’t up. Continuing with a renewed sense of determination, I found myself thanking God even for the small difficulties. Inside, my heart was leaping! Praying for this person was really working to change my heart. Why was I so consumed by these difficulties? This is really a good person. Remembering I often remember that day. When I face difficulties with someone, I attempt to apply what I learned from that particular penance. Do you remember the promise made when we recite the Act of Contrition? Those final words before we are absolved from our sins? “… I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, do penance, and amend my life. Amen.” Now, when I find myself ruminating over some difficulty I’m experiencing with someone, I stop, set a timer, and spend five minutes thanking God for them. It always astounds me how God can turn my heart around in such a short time. Jesus looked at them and said: “For human beings, this is impossible, but for God, all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26) Thank you, Jesus, for the priest who sometimes gives us a difficult but much-needed penance. Thank you, Jesus, for your healing touch. Thank you, Jesus, for each person You put on our paths. Thank you, Jesus, for loving us so much! Five minutes was and is so little time to have received such a great reward: peace of heart. “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you!’” (John 20:21)
I was three when my life turned upside down. Nothing was ever the same again, until I met Him! At three years of age, I had a heavy fever followed by a sudden seizure, after which I started showing signs of facial palsy. By the time I was five, my face became visibly asymmetric. Life ceased to be smooth. As my parents kept reaching out to new hospitals, the pain and mental damage I went through became too much to bear—the repeated questions, the weird looks, the effects and aftereffects of new medications every once in a while… Crawling into a Cocoon I was comfortable alone because, ironically, groups made me feel lonely. I was so scared that the kids next door might cry out loud if I smiled at them. I remember the sweets my dad brought home every night to help me drink the unpleasant medicine, which was overloaded with bitterness. The weekly walks with my mother along the hospital corridors for the physiotherapy sessions were never a weekend trip—every time the vibrations from the stimulator hit my face, tears would start to roll down. There were some beautiful souls who soothed my fears and pain, like my parents, who never gave up on me. They took me to every hospital they possibly could, and we tried a variety of treatments. Later, I would also see them devastated when neurosurgery was suggested. For the first time in my life, I felt that I was being lived out somewhere else. I had to do something. So, in the first semester of college, unable to bear it any longer, I decided to discontinue the medicines. Discovering Beauty After I stopped the meds, I had an adrenaline rush to create something on my own. I welcomed a new life, but I was totally clueless about how I should live it. I started writing more, dreaming more, painting more, and searching for colors in all the grey areas of life. Those were the days I started actively participating in the Jesus Youth Movement (an international Catholic movement approved by the Holy See); I started to slowly learn how to open myself to God’s love and feel loved again… The realization of the importance of the Catholic lifestyle helped me understand my purpose. I started to believe again that I am so much more than everything that has happened to me. Now, when I look back at those moments marked by the closed doors, I can clearly see that within each rejection, the ever-compassionate presence of Jesus accompanied me, enveloping me with His boundless love and understanding. I recognize who I’ve become and the wounds I’ve healed from. Reason to Hold on Our Lord says: “Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not be afraid, for I am with you.” (Isaiah 43:4-5) Finding Him in my insecurities was never an easy task. While having plenty of reasons to move farther, it was all about finding that one reason to stay. And it gave me strength and confidence to live through my vulnerabilities. The journey of finding my worth, dignity, and joy in Christ was simply wonderful. We often complain about not finding grace even after the struggles we go through. I think it’s all about seeing through the struggles. Expressing honesty in the slightest adjustment in life without any sort of wrath brings light to your life. It was quite a journey. And while He is still writing my story, I’m learning each day to embrace more, reach out without inhibitions, and make room for little joys in life. My prayers no longer hold the constant need for things I desire. Instead, I’m asking Him to strengthen me to say ‘Amen’ to the changes that keep happening along the way. I’m praying that He heals and transforms me from all the negative influences within and around me. I’m asking Him to revive the parts of me that were lost. I’m thanking Him for everything I’ve been through, all the blessings I receive every minute of the day, and for the person I’ve become. And I’m trying my best to love Him with all my heart and soul.
My husband was given a death sentence; I did not want to live on without him, but his firm convictions surprised me. Five years ago, my world came crashing down when my husband was diagnosed with a terminal disease. The life and the future I envisioned were forever changed in an instant. It was terrifying and confusing; the most hopeless and helpless I’ve ever felt. It was as though I had been plunged into an abyss of constant fear and despair. I had only my faith to cling onto as I faced the darkest days I’ve ever known. Days of caring for my dying husband and days of preparing to face a life completely different than what I had planned. Chris and I had been together since we were teenagers. We were best friends and nearly inseparable. We had been married for over twenty years and were happily raising our four children in what seemed like an idyllic life. Now he was given a death sentence, and I didn’t know how I could live without him. In truth, part of me didn’t want to. One day, in a moment of brokenness, I confided in him that I thought I might die of a broken heart if I had to live without him. His reaction was not as desperate. He sternly but empathetically told me that I had to keep living until God called me home; that I couldn’t wish or waste my life away because his was coming to an end. He confidently assured me that he would be watching over me and our children from the other side of the veil. The Other Side of Grief Chris had an unshakeable faith in God’s love and mercy. Convinced that we wouldn’t be separated forever, he would often recite the phrase: “It’s just for a little while.” This was our constant reminder that no heartache lasts forever—and these words gave me boundless hope. Hope that God will guide us through this, and hope that I will be reunited with Chris in the next life. During these dark days, we clung to Our Lady in the Rosary—a devotion we were already familiar with. The Sorrowful Mysteries were recited more often than not because contemplating the suffering and death of Our Lord brought us closer to Him in our own suffering. The Divine Mercy Chaplet was a new devotion that we added to our daily routine. Like the Rosary, this was a humbling reminder of what Jesus willingly endured for our salvation, and somehow it made the cross we had been given seem less heavy. We began to more clearly see the beauty in suffering and sacrifice. I would mentally repeat the small prayer: “Oh, Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in You” every hour of the day. It would bring a wave of calm over me whenever I felt a rush of uncertainty or fear. During this time, our prayer life deepened tremendously and gave us hope that Our Lord would be merciful to Chris and our family as we endured this painful journey. Today, it gives me hope that Chris is at peace, watching over and interceding for us from the other side—just as he promised. In these uncertain days of my new life, it’s hope that keeps me going and gives me strength. It has given me immeasurable gratitude for God’s endless love and tender mercy. Hope is a tremendous gift; an inextinguishable interior glow to focus on when we feel broken. Hope calms, hope strengthens, and hope heals. Hope takes courage to hold onto. As Saint John Paul II said: “I plead with you! Never, ever give up on hope. Never doubt, never tire and never become discouraged. Be not afraid.”
Whatever the situation you are going through, God will make a way where there seems to be no way… Today, my son Aaric brought home his dictation book. He got a red star with a ‘good’ remark. This might not be a big deal for a kindergartener, but for us, it is a celebrated achievement. The first week of school, I got a call from his class teacher. We dreaded this call, my husband and I. As I tried hard to explain his communication skills (or lack thereof) to his teacher, I remember confessing that while I cared for his big sister with special needs, I had fallen into this pattern of doing things without being asked. As she could not utter a single word, I had to guess her needs. The same mode was turned on for Aaric, too, in his early days. Even before he asked for water, I would give it to him. We had a bond that didn’t need words, a language of love, or so I thought. How miserably wrong I was! Not much later, when his little brother Abram turned three months old, I had to take those heavy steps again to see the counselor at school. This time, it was about Aaric’s poor writing skills. His dear class teacher panicked when she saw him drop his pencil on the table and stubbornly fold his hands as if to say: “I won’t write.” We dreaded this, too. His little sister Aksha was an expert at scribbling at the age of two, but Aaric wouldn’t even hold the pencil. He just didn’t fancy it. The First Step After receiving instructions from the counselor, I visited the principal, who insisted that we undergo a thorough assessment if his communication continues to be weak. I couldn’t even think of that back then. For us, he was a miracle baby. After what we went through with our firstborn and three miscarriages, Aaric had defied all odds. He was born full-term, unlike what the doctors had predicted. His vitals were normal at birth. “He’s a big baby!” exclaimed the doctor on bringing him out through a C-section. We watched him grow step by step with almost bated breath, praying nothing would go wrong. Aaric soon reached all his milestones. However, when he was just one year old, my father mentioned that he may need speech therapy. I brushed it off as being too early to diagnose. The truth was, I didn’t have the strength to face another problem. We were already worn out with all that our firstborn was going through. Anna was born preterm at 27 weeks. After many grueling days in the NICU, she was diagnosed with severe brain damage at three months and had epileptic seizures. After all the treatments and medications, our now 9-year-old daughter still battles with cerebral palsy and intellectual disability. She is unable to sit up, walk, or talk. Countless Blessings There’s a limit to holding off the inevitable, so six months ago, we reluctantly took Aaric to get an initial assessment. The ADHD diagnosis was hard. We struggled to accept it, but we still put him through speech therapy. At this point, he was only stuttering a few words. A few days back, I mustered the courage to go to the hospital with Aaric and get a full, thorough assessment. Mild autism was what they said. As we were going through the process of assessment, several questions were asked. To my surprise, my response to most of these questions was: “He wasn’t able to, but now he can.” Praise God! By the power of the Holy Spirit living in him, everything is possible. I believe that praying and blessing him every day before going to school has made a difference. The change was radical when he began to memorize Bible verses. And the beauty is that he recites those verses just when I need them. Indeed, the Word of God is living and active. I believe the transformation is ongoing. Whenever I feel low, God surprises me by making him say a new word. Amid the tantrums he puts up, and when everything seems to crumble down, my little girl, three-year-old Aksha, simply comes up and gives me a hug and a kiss. She really knows how to comfort her mama. I believe that God will surely intervene and heal our eldest daughter, Anna, too, for nothing is impossible for Him. Change is already visible—the number of times she goes into epileptic seizures has gone down tremendously. In our walk of life, things may not be going as expected, but God never leaves nor forsakes us. Just like oxygen that is essential yet invisible, God is ever present and provides the life we need so badly. Let us cling to Him and not doubt whilst in the darkness. May our testimony reveal the truth of how beautiful, wonderful, and loving our God is and how He transforms us to say: “I was …, but now I am ….”
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What difference can a single person make in this huge world of disturbing disputes? Stepping out the front door to retrieve the morning paper, I padded to the end of the driveway, bent down, and peered through the plastic bag to scan the headlines. I poured my just-brewed coffee and sat in my favorite recliner to appreciate this pleasant ritual that began my day. My eyes moved from one headline to the next. I sadly realized that it was becoming increasingly challenging to enjoy what had once been a source of pleasure. Again, I was confronted with the unraveling of what was once agreed upon in our society—civility. A bit disconcerted after perusing several sections, I turned to Facebook, hoping for some uplifting or humorous posts. I found myself chuckling a few times as I scrolled and was grateful for this distraction. Seeing a more somber post, I appreciated the one who made the effort to alert others to current situations in our country and world, which called for a response. The facts were from a reputable source, and as a person of faith, I was grateful to be more informed as a result of this friend’s concern. After clicking ‘like,’ I happened to see a few comments from others online. This, too, exposed the reality that differences of opinion were no longer just that. Instead, friends were verbally attacking friends, and no effort was being made to be tactful or kind. Agreeing to Disagree Disagreements are to be expected since each person is the product of their own experiences, education, and values. Some respondents were obviously well-read, having studied the issues and coming to conclusions based on their knowledge and a clear understanding of what their faith requires. Others responded emotionally, shooting from the hip with callous attacks on the character of the person who had posted a thoughtful comment. I was puzzled as to how what had begun as an attempt to call forth compassion had now disintegrated into an ongoing barrage of insults. What’s more, at times, the parties involved didn’t even know each other! I remembered what my father had taught me years ago about what happens when we ‘assume’ something about another. My dad took a pen and put a hyphen after the second ‘s’ in that word and another hyphen between the ‘u’ and ‘me.’ He stated that was what was made out of both parties when one chose to ‘assume’ something about the other. Might a better response be that of Saint Francis of Assisi in his prayer: “To seek first to understand, rather than to be understood?” How can we do that unless we strive to live the BE-attitudes, where Jesus said we would be blessed (happy!) if we were peacemakers? It is quite simple, really. In the words of Pope Francis, the way we make peace is by: “Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue.” I have the Guideline Book! I laid my phone down and placed my newspaper in the recycling bin. It was time to do what I should have done in the first place: open my Bible. Turning to the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, I was reminded of the real source of Truth. Jesus spoke challenging words to those influenced by the culture of their day. His harshest words were reserved for the religious leaders, whose convictions were so rigid that there was no room left for compassion. The self-righteousness that resulted from their sincere attempts to follow every Jewish law to its letter blinded them to their own hypocrisy. As a result, Jesus spent much of His time with the prostitutes, tax collectors, and others whom society had deemed ‘sinners.’ There, He found authenticity; there was no pretense among those already rejected by society. In connecting with Jesus, those on the margins of society found He somehow understood them, their hearts, excuses, needs, and desires. In time, many came to an awareness that the choices they had been making were not bringing them the peace for which they yearned and, thus were willing to try a new way, the Way of Jesus. My examination of the Scriptures was a reminder that human nature has not changed over the years. The false pride that the Pharisees and Sadducees held onto only distanced them from hearing the Truth—those who had little to protect, those with little in the way of material goods, status, or power, were the ones open to the transforming power of the Gospel. To them, it was indeed, ‘Good News!’—the kind the world needed to hear then and most certainly now. Would that tomorrow’s headline one day read: “Christians Found Leading the Way in Loving Their Neighbors as Themselves!?” Smiling to myself, I poured a second cup of coffee while composing my next Facebook post. The song reverberating within me caused me to hum along as its words washed over me: “Let There Be Peace on Earth, and Let It Begin with Me.”
Your problem may be big or small, but this DIY is sure to help you out! I am a daddy’s girl. Growing up, I took pride in being called the ‘Captain’s daughter’ (my father was a police officer). My dad taught me my faith in words and in deeds. He was a daily Mass goer, a Rosary pray-er, and an overall virtuous man. A hard worker, he always provided for his family. He was not only my daddy but also my role model, my #1 fan, and my spiritual advisor. Nonetheless, when I was in trouble, it was my mother that I ran to. Indeed, I would rather my mother ‘catch’ me doing something wrong than my father. Perhaps that’s because I could not stand the thought of disappointing my father. More likely, though, it was because my mother was truly understanding and compassionate. And when I did have to tell my father, I wanted my mother at my side as my intercessor. Mom’s Love When I experienced a broken heart, I cried in her embrace. Her sympathetic heart broke with mine. My mother knew how to comfort me. She carried me in ways that were different from my father. My dad lifted me up on his shoulders; my mom cradled me close to her heart. It is this relationship with my mother that makes me realize how important it is to stay embraced in the Immaculate Heart of Mary. By virtue of my Baptism, I am, indeed, my Father’s daughter—a princess, as a matter of fact, for I am a child of the King of kings. And just as I hate disappointing my earthly father, I grieve over all the times I have let my Heavenly Father down. Alas, I must often make use of the Sacrament of Reconciliation to seek forgiveness. Approaching my Father to confess my wrongdoings, I ask my Mother to be by my side. After examining my conscience and before entering the confessional, I pray a Hail Mary. I am counting on my Heavenly Mother to intercede on my behalf and to help me use the graces our Lord will send me so I can avoid sin in the future. Like my Father, Mother Mary only wants what is best for me. Whether I have a little problem or a big dilemma, I turn to Mary by praying the Rosary. It is a powerful tool that helps me determine God’s will and then gives me the strength to do it. Sometimes, I pray a whole Rosary for a specific intention. Often, though, each decade has its own little need that I present to Our Lady for her intercession. Saint Therese of Lisieux assures: “In trial or difficulty I have recourse to Mother Mary whose glance alone is enough to dissipate every fear.” Hence, when friends and family ask for my prayers, the Memorare is my go-to prayer. I entrust their cares to our Mother, knowing that she will obtain from Her Son what is best, just as she did at the wedding feast at Cana. My Sweetest Resort In the exhaustion of motherhood, raising nine children, I turn to Mary for inspiration and encouragement. Many Hail Marys are prayed throughout my day! As my children get older, they go off into the world without me–to school, college, on trips, and to start their own lives in their own homes–I ask Our Lady to accompany them when and where I can’t. It gives me peace and a blessed assurance knowing that She will keep an eye on them. At noon, I have my alarm set to remind me to stop and say the Angelus prayer. It doesn’t take long, but it helps me to keep focused. It is kind of like calling your mom in the middle of the day just to say: “Hi!” and let her know that you love her. Loving my Heavenly Mother doesn’t mean I love God any less, just as loving my mother doesn’t mean my affection for my dad diminishes. On the contrary, loving one only increases my love for the other. Love is never divided; it can only be multiplied. Saint Maximillian Kolbe declared: “Never be afraid of loving the Blessed Virgin too much. You can never love Her more than Jesus does.” So, run to your Mother.
All you have to do is trust in Him and wait patiently. I was recently sitting in front of my computer, ready to install a new update. The loading bar appeared, and I thought: How often do we feel like this in our lives? We wait without knowing if things are progressing. Minutes passed, and I became impatient. Should I cancel? But something was holding me back—a faint hope that there was more going on in the background than I could see. And sure enough, suddenly, the bar jumped ahead. Patience Is the Key This little experience opened my eyes—This is exactly what hope feels like. Our lives often resemble a loading beam. We wait for things to clear up, for prayers to be answered, or for hard times to end. But how quickly do we become impatient and want to stop the installation because we think it won't go any further! Hope is the strength to let the process run its course, trusting that something good is being prepared. "You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.”(James 5:8) In our hectic world, which expects quick solutions, accepting God's seemingly slow pace is challenging. But hope means letting the loading bar continue to run, even if the progress is not visible. God is working in the background, like a system receiving a complex update. Even if the screen remains dark, we can trust that He has everything under control. Mediator of Hope Mary, the mother of hope, lived a life full of loading beam moments. Her "yes" at the Annunciation set the divine plan in motion, but she had to wait for the birth of Jesus, for His public ministry, and finally for the resurrection after Golgotha. She lived the waiting with a faith that knew that God's plan would unfold, even if she did not fully understand it. This is how she became the mediator of hope for all humanity. She teaches us that hope is the patience to hold on to God's promises, even when the ark seems to stand still. It is not about understanding every detail but about trusting that God is completing good work in us. "For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." (Jeremiah 29:11) The question remains: Where is our loading bar? Will you trust that progress will continue, even if it is sometimes invisible? God's update for your life is already in progress! At the end of this process, the fullness of His glory will give you new life. God does not forget us: "Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." (Matthew 28:20) Come, Lord Jesus, and complete Your work in us! Lead us step by step to the goal of your glory!
Do you know how to battle the storm that obstructs your way? We all want control and we all want freedom. We want to be able to grasp the course of our lives. It is easy to fall into the trap of desiring this control we can never have. We cannot go back and change the past, and we cannot direct the future exactly as we please. It is also too easy to reduce this desire to a lack of trust in God or a lack of concern for His own will, but often, we may desire this control because we think it will help us serve God best. We get sucked into a cycle of worry because we are trying to please God. But do we stop to see what He has to say about such a thing? Tormenting Past As a university student, I find myself too often worrying about doing everything right. I am actively trying to discern God’s will for my life during such a pivotal time (which, of course, is a good thing), but sometimes to the point that I am too worried if I am failing to properly follow His will or if I am seeking to control and direct my life instead of letting God lead. The irony here is clear retrospectively but can be unnoticeable at the moment. I find myself stressing about the past, wishing I could go back and find answers to the problems I both endured and created. The result is a cycle of painful questions–Why did I say that? Why did this person do this? What does it all mean? Did I learn the right lesson? Why did somebody else get something I wanted? I am always trying to find a solution, trying to take back control, trying to figure out what others are doing right that I am not. But sometimes, all we need to do is let go. Recently, I attended a Sisters of Life* retreat where we learned about imaginative prayer, a spiritual exercise where you use your imagination to place yourself in a scene and let God speak to you. At the same time in my life, I was preparing for training as a sailing instructor, another thing that left me worried as I sought to predict how the course would turn out. Would I succeed? If I didn’t, all my summer plans would be ruined, and I would have no job. What would I do then? What if the other trainees passed and I didn’t? The Bible story my imagination immediately turned to was the story of Jesus calming the storm on the ocean while the disciples were in the boat. I placed myself into the scene. Sailing through the Storm I vividly saw in my mind the boat I had always grown up sailing, the harbor where I spent countless hours practicing, and I saw the storm I had been caught in my first days sailing all those years ago. When the wind is powerful enough, it fills the sails and tilts the sailboat to its side. The skipper must lean back over the side to flatten the boat or release the mainsheet (the rope used to control the sails), all while continuing to clutch the tiller (steering instrument) and direct the boat with just one hand. Fighting currents and fighting wind, it takes all your strength and willpower as the waves are splashing over the side and the wind whips your eyes, bringing you to tears. Fighting to hold onto everything and prevent the boat from flipping over can become an impossible task. It was then, in my prayer, that Jesus began to walk across the water toward me. He reached out His hand for me to grasp. If I reached for His hand, I would have to let go of one of the controls I was using to keep my boat moving. I continued to cling to the mainsheet and the tiller, my hands cramping, the wind tearing my eyes and my hair, leaning back so far that my back nearly touched the water in an impossible gymnastic move. He waited for me. I let go of the rope holding the sail and took His hand. It was then that the pressure on the sail from the wind was released. The boat slowed and flattened until it came to a stop and merely bobbed in the waves, sails flapping in the breeze, with no risk of tipping over. Jesus climbed into the boat. Offer it up Like a patient, loving Father and friend, He directed me when I was ready to take up my course again and keep going now that the pressure and anxiety were released. Sometimes, we don’t have to keep trying to find a solution, fighting to hold everything together, sometimes, all we need to do is let go of the past, our problems and give them to God. Then, we'll just need to take up our course and begin again. After having the time for that prayer, I attended Mass, and the homily confirmed the message placed in my heart. The Gospel was about when Peter asks Jesus what is going to happen to John, and Jesus replies: “What concern is it of yours?” The priest emphasized how Peter’s path was very different from John’s. Jesus not only told Peter not to worry about John but also clarified who he should focus on; He said: "You follow Me.” Peter, of course, went on to be the leader of the Church and now has the most famous basilica in Rome named after him. The week following the retreat, I had my sailing training and not only passed but also was offered a job opportunity for future summers. What was I so worried about? That, along with the other problems and mistakes of the past that I was clinging to, just needed to be let go of to find peace. This does not mean avoiding dealing with problems at all; rather, it allows us to take a step back before returning to the situation, and often, a solution reveals itself. Sometimes, it does mean letting go of problems we cannot solve, like questions about the past or the future. Jesus wants to bear our burdens with us. When we place our trust in Him and leave our worries at the foot of the Cross, solutions are inevitable. *Sisters of Life, based in North America, is a Catholic religious community that follows Augustinian rule and promotes pro-life.
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