Time for a Change

Saint Januarius (or San Gennaro, as he is known in his native Italy) was born in Naples during the second century to a wealthy aristocratic family. He was ordained a priest at the remarkable age of fifteen. By age twenty, he was bishop of Naples. During the Christian persecution begun by the emperor Diocletian, Januarius hid many Christians, including his former classmate, Sossius, who would also become a saint. Sossius was exposed as a Christian and imprisoned. When Januarius visited him in jail, he too was arrested. Stories vary as to whether he and his fellow Christians were thrown to wild animals that refused to attack them or into a furnace from which they emerged unharmed. But all the stories agree that Januarius was eventually beheaded around the year 305 A.D. And this is where the story gets very interesting. Pious followers gathered some of his blood into glass vials and preserved it as a relic. That blood, preserved to this day, manifests remarkable qualities. On three occasions each year, as it has since this miracle first occurred in 1389, the coagulated blood liquefies. Stored in glass ampules, the dried dark red blood that clings to one side of the vessel miraculously turns to liquid that fills the bottle from side to side. Besides his feast day, September 19, the miracle also occurs on the day his remains were moved to Naples and the anniversary of Naples being spared from the effects of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 1631. Several scientific investigations have tried and failed to explain how solid blood can become liquefied. And any trickery or foul play has been excluded. Joyous shouts of: “The miracle has happened!” fill the Naples Cathedral as the faithful kiss the reliquary that holds the saint’s blood. What an amazing gift God has given the Church in this remarkable saint, and in the miracle that each year reminds us of how Gennaro—and so many others—shed their blood for the sake of their Lord. As Tertullian said, ‘The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.’

It is possible to visit any and all of the ten million people incarcerated around the world at any given time. Wondering how? Read on "When I was in prison, you visited me.” These are some of the people Jesus promised to reward on Judgment Day. There are regulations limiting visits to prisoners, but are there ways that someone could visit any and all of the ten million people incarcerated around the world? YES! Firstly by praying regularly for all prisoners, mentioning any that you know personally by name. This can be accompanied by lighting a candle to symbolize the prayer going up to God and bringing light into the darkness of a prisoner’s life. When I was incarcerated, my family and friends lit candles as a living flame of offering to Almighty God, specifically for me. I found it very effective. It was amazing how a ray of joy would suddenly radiate through the gloom that is normal prison life. Something small but so meaningful that I would forget for a moment just where I was and under what circumstances, prompting me to think, ‘there is a God after all’, even in here. But I believe the most powerful way to help those in prison, or anyone in great need of prayer, is to consider the holy precious wounds Our Lord suffered during His Passion from His arrest on Holy Thursday night until His death on Good Friday afternoon. Unfailing Promise Contemplate all the blows and assaults upon His body, including the cruel scourging and the constant pain of the wounds of the crown of thorns, but particularly those five most precious wounds on His hands, feet, and side. Saint Faustina tells us how much it pleases Jesus when we contemplate His wounds, and how He promises to pour out an ocean of mercy when we do so. Take advantage of this merciful, generous offer that He reserved for this age. Pray for grace and mercy for yourselves, for those you know by name, and for all the 10 million incarcerated, languishing in prison for all sorts of reasons, just and unjust. He wants to save every single soul, calling each one back to Him to receive His mercy and forgiveness. Pray also for the downtrodden, the marginalized, the poor, the sick and bedridden, and the silent sufferers who have no one to speak up for them. Pray for all those who hunger—for food, knowledge, or a chance to use their God-given talents. Pray for the unborn and the godless. We are all prisoners of one sort or another, but particularly, we are prisoners of sin in all its insidious forms. He asks us to come to the foot of the Cross, which is soaked by His Precious Blood, lay out our petitions before Him, and whatever the intention may be, He will respond in mercy. Let us not miss any opportunity to beg for the incalculable treasures which our merciful Lord has promised us. When we pray for those 10 million prisoners across the world, every one of them receives 100 percent of the benefit of our prayer because, just as Our good Lord gives Himself entirely to each one of us in the Eucharist, He multiplies our single prayer like a megaphone, reaching into the hearts of each of them. Don’t ever think, “what will my single prayer do for so many people?” Remember the miracle of the loaves and fishes and doubt no more.

Keep digging through this article to discover a new bypass for your prayer life Some years ago, my sister’s house had a major plumbing problem. There was an undetected water leak somewhere on the property which caused her water bill to increase from $70 a month to $400 a month. They tried to discover the source of the leak, with her son doing a lot of digging and excavating, but to no avail. After days of fruitless search, a friend came up with a solution. His idea: forget about trying to find the leak. Instead, go to the head of the water pipe, attach new piping, and bypass the area that they knew was problematic due to pooling water. Lay the new pipe along a new path and abandon the old pipeline altogether. So that’s what they did. Following a day of hard work and lots of digging, they accomplished that plan and, Voila! The problem was fixed, and my sister’swater bill went back to normal. As I reflected on this, my thoughts turned to unanswered prayers. Sometimes we are praying for people or for situations and those prayers don’t seem to make any difference. The pipeline to God’s ear seems “leaky.”Maybe we pray and pray and pray for someone to have a conversion, to come back to church. Or we pray for someone to find a job who has been unemployed for a while. Or we pray for healing for someone battling serious health issues. Whatever the situation is, we don’t see any progress and our prayers feel like they are wasted or useless. I remember praying for a very difficult personnel conflict in the missionary organization I work with. This was a situation that was very stressful and draining on my emotional and physical energy. Nothing I tried on a natural level seemed to resolve it, and my prayers for a solution seemed to have no effect. In my prayer one day, I cried out yet again to God in desperation and heard a still, quiet voice in my heart, “Surrender it to Me. I will take care of it.” I realized that I needed a shift in my approach, a “plumbing bypass” so to speak. My attitude up until this point was trying to solve the situation by my efforts: mediate, talk through, try various compromises, placate the parties involved. But since nothing had worked and things only got worse, I knew that I needed to let God take over. So I gave Him my assent. “Lord, I surrender it all to you. Do whatever You need to do, and I will cooperate.” Within 48 hours of that prayer, the situation was completely resolved! With speed that took my breath away, one of the parties made a decision which totally changed everything, and the stress and conflict was eliminated just like that. I was in awe and could not believe what had just happened. What did I learn? If I am praying in a certain way for something or someone and have been stuck and am seeing no breakthroughs, maybe I need to change the way I am praying. To stop and ask the Holy Spirit, “Is there another way I should be praying for this person? Is there something else I should be asking for, a specific grace they need right now?” Maybe we need to try a “plumbing bypass.” Instead of trying to find the leak or the source of the resistance, we can pray that God bypass it. God is very creative (the source of creativity, the original Creator) and if we keep cooperating with Him, He will come up with other ways to resolve issues and bring grace that we haven’t even thought of. Let God be God and give Him room to move and act. In my case, I needed to step out of the way, acknowledge in humility that what I had been doing wasn’t working, and surrender more deeply to the Lord so that He could act. But each situation is different, so ask God what He wants you to do and listen for His instructions. Follow those to the best of your ability and leave the results in His hands. And remember what Jesus said: “What is impossible with man is possible with God.” Luke 18:27

We have all been given the gift of time, but what do we do with it? Sometimes I have trouble understanding what God is trying to tell me. I often make Him repeat Himself. Last year, over and over, I felt the Lord was placing these words on my heart –“Put a hedge around it.” I eventually asked for clarification and this scripture came to mind: “There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower.” (Matthew 21:33) I knew that hedges were bushes grown closely together, often to enclose gardens. When I asked God what He wanted me to enclose, I came to understand that I was to guard my time, especially my time with Him. So, I began to be more careful with my morning routine. I became more conscious of my waking thoughts, dreams, and songs running through my head. I began to journal. I strove to raise my heart to the Lord with praise and thanksgiving before even stepping out of bed. Instead of sifting through social media feeds or reading the news, I poured over the daily Mass readings each day, with my morning coffee in hand. I am guarding my interior life. I am guarding my time with the Lord. I feel rather like a watchman at daybreak. When I sought out a spiritual director this past year, the first thing he asked was if I had a daily prayer routine. His number one goal for me was to keep a regular and consistent prayer life. My husband and I now pray more faithfully as a couple. We have begun to pray more intentionally at mealtimes, adding heart-felt prayers along with the ones we know by heart. At the end of the day, we are keeping our commitment to pray as a family. I pray in the car. I pray in church. I pray on my morning jog. Sometimes I walk the circumference of a park while praying the Rosary or Divine Mercy, putting a hedge of prayer around it. I believe these new habits are already bearing fruit. I have noticed a decline in questionable activity at the park next door. I have also noticed my husband and I are working more on the same page and are more willing to laugh off our differences. But most importantly, I have noticed a change in myself. I am more at peace. I am more in tune with what the Lord is speaking to my heart. I am more prepared to meet the challenges of each day. God desires us all to pray without ceasing, but the first step is to put prayer hedges around our days. We need to offer up the first fruits of our day to the Lord and end our day with prayer. Our prayer hedges will differ, but we must be sure to put them up to smite the tactics of the devil. God is ever drawing close to us, and He wants us to draw close to Him. But we are easily distracted. We need to diligently guard our time. Prayer hedges will lead to a more fruitful place.

It isn’t easy to say ‘I forgive’ and truly forgive until you do this... “For freedom Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1) I’m sure the majority of people would be aware that forgiveness is at the very heart of the Christian message, but many would be surprised to learn that not forgiving somebody can result in physical pain. I know this from personal experience. Several times, I have witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit in healing this terrible, often paralysing, sickness. Not a Cliché The first words Jesus spoke, as He was dying on the Cross, were words of forgiveness (Luke 23:34). His loving sacrifice was the moment that mankind had awaited, - to set them free from sin and death. Forgiveness was again on His lips when He met His disciples after He rose from the dead, giving them the power to grant it on His behalf (John 20:19-23). When the Apostles asked Him how to pray, Jesus responded with a prayer allowing us to address God as ‘Our Father’, and asking Him to ‘forgive us our trespasses (sins) as we forgive those who trespass (sin) against us’ (Matthew 6:12). If we expect forgiveness ourselves, we must forgive others (Matthew 5:23-26; 6:14). Unforgiveness can be likened to a clenched fist. A clenched fist is tense, and is often clenched in anger. It is really only fit for one thing; to hit somebody, or at least to be ready to. If that fist does hit somebody, then it is a fair assumption to expect one back, creating more animosity. If the fist is clenched, it is not open. An open hand is able to receive but if it is closed and clenched it is not possible to accept what may be offered. Alternatively, when we open our hands so we can receive, we are also able to give what we receive. When He Sets Free As I prayed about this at Mass, I had an image of a walking stick, and realized that when we do not forgive, it hinders our walk through life. After Mass, a man approached as we chatted outside, asking us to take a picture of him outside the church. When I noticed his walking stick, I had a sense that his sickness was caused by unforgiveness. As the conversation continued, he began to tell me about his past, concluding with a request to keep him in my prayers, since he was suffering with a bad back. I invited him to pray with me immediately because Jesus wanted to heal him, but it would require something from him. Intrigued and open, he agreed, asking what would be required. I told him that he would need to forgive the people he had just mentioned and anybody else who had injured him. I could see him struggling internally, so I encouraged him with the assurance that he didn’t have to rely on his own strength to forgive. If he forgave in the name of Jesus, then Jesus would empower him, lead him and set him free. His eyes lit up as he whispered, “With my Lord’s strength, yes, I can forgive.” I led him in a prayer, which ended by praying for the healing of his back by laying hands on the problem area (Mark 16:15-18). I told him to do what Jesus said and claim the healing by giving thanks to God in the belief that he had received it, (Mark 11:22-25). This was on Friday evening. On Sunday, he sent me a text message, “Praise the Lord, Jesus has healed my back.” I praised the Lord indeed, thanking Him with all my heart. I was particularly struck by this detail. We had asked for the healing on the Friday by the power and merits of the Cross. The answer was received on the third day, Sunday, the day of Resurrection. C.S. Lewis once wrote, “People think forgiveness is a lovely thing until they have something to forgive.” It is important to know that forgiveness is an act of the will; it is something we choose. That is not to say it is an easy choice, as often it can seem like the hardest, most painful decision in the world to make, but when we face everything in the Name of Jesus, ‘through Him, with Him, and in Him’, we learn that ‘with God nothing will be impossible’ (Luke 1:37). It is essential that we ask ourselves if there is anybody in our lives that we need to forgive. Jesus teaches us, “Whenever you stand up to pray, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in Heaven may forgive you your sins’ (Mark 11:25). Therefore, we must bring everything to Jesus and allow Him to set us free, because “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36).

I discovered the transformative power of the “Prayer of Abandonment” by Blessed Charles de Foucauld through one of my professors at graduate school, shortly after my husband and I became foster parents to a sibling group of three. I was reeling from the transition to motherhood, and my teacher suggested that this prayer might help me find the peace I so badly needed.  “If you want to change your life,” the kindly priest explained, “say this prayer every day … and if you want to transform your marriage, say it with your husband!” Eagerly, I took the little prayer card, taped it to my bathroom mirror, and read it aloud each morning: Father, I abandon myself into Your hands; Do with me what You will. Whatever You may do, I thank You: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only Your will be done in me, and in all Your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord.   Into Your hands I commend my soul: I offer it to You with all the love of my heart, For I love You, Lord, and so need to give myself, To surrender myself into Your hands without reserve, And with boundless confidence, For You are my Father. For nearly twenty years, this heartfelt prayer of simple trust, based on the Lord’s Prayer (the Our Father), has been a constant source of light for me, especially as my husband and I continue to parent these children, two of whom we adopted in 2005. Through all the joys and sorrows of family life, this prayer rings true to me, and I find myself offering it in a new way now that my mother has joined our family. When dementia troubles her mind, this prayer helps me to walk with her without fear, with boundless confidence in the One who loves us both.

Are you praying for a miracle? Here’s a wonder-working formula for you! Several years ago my husband and I decided to face the inevitability of mortality head on. We dove into the world of wills, trusts, executors, probates, lawyers etc. and tried to sort our earthly possessions. It was very surreal trying to catalogue our possessions by value. Is a vehicle worth more than our wedding album? Would our children understand the value of memories, sentimental objects or family heirlooms the way their father and I did? What lasting legacy could we leave each of our children that would be valuable or meaningful for them after we had gone home to the Lord? Fortunately, God had the answers to all my questions and, just as in Scripture, He used stories to reveal these truths. Trinkets and Treasures This story revolves around our second son, James (or Jimmy as we have always called him), when he was about 6 years old. We raised our family in a wonderful, quaint New England area that offered many wholesome family events for community interaction, such as the annual country fair our church held each Fall. Our family was actively involved with the preparation of this fair and looked forward to it every year. Our children grew up helping where they could and when they were needed. As a result, our kids were familiar faces to other parish volunteers who also helped make the fair happen. Jimmy had learned which booths were apt to have treasures that piqued his interest. He particularly enjoyed the various White Elephant and Rummage Sale booths. So, in the weeks leading up to the fair, he would volunteer to help set up those booths as a strategy for inspecting any incoming goodies. Jimmy had a particular interest in all kinds of trinkets and was blessed with a keen eye for treasures and a knack for bartering for them as well. (Just a side note...he still does!) One year, on the day of the country fair, when all the preparations had been completed and we were ready to enjoy the festivities, Jimmy asked if he could go off in search of treasures. With a small pocketful of money and our blessing, he happily and independently set off on his quest. The rest of us spent the day wherever we were needed to make the day a success. The full day of festivities was exciting and fun for our family, but it also proved to be long and tiring, especially for our little ones. At the end of the fair we wearily returned home and took turns sharing the day’s events and displaying any of the treasures we had acquired. When it was his turn, Jimmy proudly pulled a handful of precious knick-knacks from his pocket. Methodically, he explained their importance to him and how he had bargained for each item. He saved his most valuable find till the end. As he slowly reached into his little pocket, he carefully extracted a long, worn, golden chain holding an equally worn golden cross. As he lifted it high for all of us to admire, he radiated a smile that practically exclaimed “TA DA!” My mother’s heart leaped with joy. This precious child of God had instinctively realized the intrinsic value of the worn cross. I hugged him at least a half dozen times to share his joy, before sending them all off to bed. A Tiny Crack Not long after they had disappeared to their rooms, a long drawn out cry of “Moooooom!” echoed down the stairwell. It was followed by a distinct distressed sobbing that indicated something was unusually wrong. Praying that no one was hurt, I dashed up the stairs to find Jimmy standing in his doorway pointing toward the corner of his room. “What is it? What happened? What is the matter?” I rattled off my standard motherly questions as I scanned the room for possible answers. Finding no apparent explanation, I stooped down to hear what was making him so distressed. Trying to catch his breath through the tears, he explained that the chain had slipped through his fingers and fallen through a very tiny crack in the floorboards. His tear-stained eyes were fixed on me, imploring me to recover his precious treasure. I asked his older brother for his rendition of events and he verified Jimmy’s story. Plan A involved shining a flashlight into the tiny hole, hoping that it had fallen straight down where I could see it and then figure out how to retrieve it. But…no such luck. Moving on to Plan B, my husband gathered his tools and began prying up floorboards. Although we all scoured the area carefully, the chain was nowhere to be found. While my husband reattached the floorboards, I tried to console our disappointed, tired little boy. We were all worn out, and it was apparent that nothing more could be done that evening. However, as we began to say nightly prayers with the boys, a thought came to me. When I was a child, just about Jimmy’s age, I had a toy jump rope that was very special to me. Somehow the jump rope had been misplaced and I felt very sad and helpless. I stopped and asked God to find it for me and place it in a specific location for me to find the next morning. To my delight, it was there the next day. God had answered my prayer and I have never stopped praying or trusting Him since then. (Read this story in my article “Just Like a Child” for the September/October 2019 issue of Shalom Tidings at shalomtidings.org). Recalling that feeling, I relayed my story to the boys and we prayed in the same way for God to help Jimmy. Jimmy asked for God to place the necklace on his dresser in a little container where he had placed other important treasures. We ended the long day with that prayer. Timeless Treasure The next morning I woke up to another long drawn out cry of, “Moooooom!” Gathering my wits and my robe about me, the same list of questions echoed through my head as on the previous evening. However, instead of finding a crying son in the doorway, I saw Jimmy smiling from ear to ear as the worn golden chain and cross dangled once again from the grasp of his little hand. “Did you find my chain last night?” he asked excitedly. I gasped. I knew that question! I had asked that same question to my mother many years ago, regarding my jump rope, when I discovered it had been located. I knew the impact my answer was about to have on my son. I slowly shook my head and reached out to hold Jimmy’s little hand. “No, Jimmy. I did not find your chain. You asked for God to help you and He answered your prayer.” I let my answer sink into his little heart for a few moments. My husband and my other sleepy son appeared in the doorway asking, “What’s going on?” Jimmy directed the same question at them, “Did you find my chain last night?” Neither could explain how the chain had appeared in the little treasure box. God had visited Jimmy that evening and it was time for me to pass on the lesson I had learned as a child. “Jimmy, when we pray to God, He listens to us. Last night you needed help and you asked God to help you in a very specific way. God heard you and helped you. I want you to always remember this moment. I want you to know that, you can ALWAYS ask God to help you no matter what you need or how old you get. He will always help you. Do you understand?” He looked down at his little cross and nodded. The impact of what had just happened began to take root in him and in all of us. None of us have forgotten that day and we have shared the story of the little cross to the children that were born after Jimmy. Precious Legacy My husband and I finally concluded our deliberations on how to distribute our belongings to our children. They may not fully understand the monetary or sentimental value of our earthly possessions and that is okay. When I recall this story, God reminds of what He said in Matthew 6:19-20 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal.” God tells us in Scripture not to store up things on this earth that will wither and pass away. He tells us to store up our treasures in Heaven. We have stressed to our children the importance of prayer and the eternal value of having faith in God. I have found peace and comfort in knowing that we passed on to our children the importance of having a close prayerful relationship with God. They, in turn, are passing their faith and their stories about God on to their families. Praying forward our faith has become our everlasting legacy and heavenly treasure. Today, I want to encourage you. It is never too late to start your own legacy. Pray for your faith to increase and then pray forward your faith to those God places in your life. God bless you dear brothers and sisters.

Praying for your loved ones? Here's a story to keep you hopeful Only Yesterday I remember it like it was yesterday—sitting in a dimly-lit living room with my future father-in-law after a holiday meal. It was the first time I had met my boyfriend’s parents, and I was noticeably nervous. The family had scattered after dinner, leaving Harry and I to engage in small talk by the fire. I had heard so much about him and was excited to have this opportunity to converse. Harry was truly larger than life with an incredible sense of humor. He was the father of six children—hardworking, an equestrian record holder and a veteran of an elite military organization. I was dating his oldest son. I had admired him long before I met him and hoped to make a good impression. I, too, came from a large family, and was a devout Catholic—something I hoped he would view favorably. I knew that Harry had grown up in the Catholic Church, but left long before he married and started a family. This was something that piqued my curiosity and I wanted to know more—to understand why. What could have made him leave this faith that I, even as a teenager, loved so dearly? When the topic of religion eventually came up in conversation, I excitedly shared with him my devotion to the faith. His response was unexpected and heart-sinking. He nonchalantly, almost coldly, stated that he was once a Catholic—even an altar boy, but now he was not sure if he could even remember the Lord’s Prayer. Wanting to respond without sounding disrespectful, I quietly mentioned how sad that was—and I deeply felt it. This conversation left an impression on me and I kept this memory closely tucked away. Glimmering Lights The years came and went, and my husband and I held Harry close in prayer— hoping that one day he would return to the faith. Harry was there for my marriage to his son in the Catholic Church. He was there for the sacramental celebrations for our children, and he was even there the day his own son became a Catholic. Unable to hold back my tears of joy as I watched my husband’s baptism, the memory of my conversation with his father, ten years earlier, came flooding back and I felt the very slightest heat of anger—anger that my husband’s father had cheated him out of a faith-filled upbringing. My husband wanted more for his own children. He had not just been supportive of raising our family in the Catholic faith, he himself felt an inner longing for more. His initiation into the Catholic Church was a wonderful example of his own deep faith and trust. I saw small glimmers of faith in Harry over the years, and I always believed there was still some conviction buried deep in his heart. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, my father-in-law told me in confidence that he was praying to Our Lady for him, as he had always had a deep devotion to her. This was something he had never told anyone, and he confided in me. I felt a genuine happiness in knowing that this dedication, although unseen, was still in there. Optimistically, my husband and I continued to pray for Harry’s full return to the faith. A Priceless Gift The year 2020 was cruel to many, and my dear father-in-law was one of its victims. Having taken a bad fall, he was placed in a rehabilitation facility with no personal contact for weeks. His health was beginning to fail, and this strong, vibrant man was beginning to shrink—in stature as well as in light—as the onset of dementia had also become clear. My husband decided to take a chance and ask his father if he would like a visit from a Catholic priest. To our utter surprise, he eagerly agreed—and asked me to supply a copy of the Lord’s Prayer to refresh his memory. Once again, my conversation with him as a teenager immediately came to mind, but this time I felt excitement and hope. In the days that followed, my husband accompanied a priest to his father’s home as mobility was limited now. Harry confidently participated in the Sacrament of Penance and accepted the offering of Holy Communion from his own son. Receiving both of these sacraments for the first time in nearly sixty years was a priceless gift. Harry received the Anointing of the Sick as well, and these precious sacraments indisputably gave him the graces to live out his final weeks in peace. In his final days, his son brought him a rosary, and prayed it around his bedside with our children—knowing that Harry was now walking the fine line between this life and the next. As a devoted child of Our Lady, this seemed a fitting goodbye. Harry passed away peacefully soon afterwards, and our hearts will forever be filled with gratitude to our merciful God and Our Lady for bringing Harry back to the faith before he passed on. Knowing that Harry is at peace with the heavenly angels is of great comfort to us. It may have taken him decades to acknowledge it, after years of unceasing prayers, and a final chance offer from his loving son, but his faith was there. It was always there.

Discover a powerful prayer that takes just 7 minutes, and opens the door of Mercy It was a warm, balmy day. The moss hanging from the massive water oak trees in our front yard blew sideways dusting the grass with debris. I had just checked the mailbox when Lia, one of my best friends, pulled into the driveway. She hurried over and I could see on her face that she was extremely upset. “My mom went into the hospital two nights ago. Her cancer cells have spread from her lungs to her brain,” Lia said. Lia’s beautiful brown eyes shimmered with tears that streamed down her cheeks. Seeing her was heartbreaking. I took her hand. “Can I go with you to see her,” I asked. “Yes, I’m headed there this afternoon,” she said. “Okay, I’ll meet you there,” I said. When I walked into the hospital room, Lia was at her mom’s bedside. Her mom looked up at me, her face twisted in pain. I hope it’s okay that I came to see you today,” I said. “Of course. It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “Have you heard from that priest friend of yours,” she asked, her voice weak but kind. “Yes, we speak off and on” I said. “I’m so glad I got to see him that day,” she said. Lia and I had been part of a Rosary group that met every week during the time her mom was first diagnosed. A priest, well known for his spiritual gifts, had come to one of our meetings and we were eager for him to join us in prayer and hear our confessions. Lia’s mom was raised Catholic, but when she married, she decided to assimilate into her husband’s family and adopt his Greek Orthodox faith. However, over the years, she felt less and less at home in either faith community. Worried that her mom had been away from The Church and sacraments for so many years, Lia invited her to our Rosary group so she could meet our special priest. Not till the priest was preparing to leave did Lia’s mom finally walk through the back door. Lia shot me a relieved smile. Her mom and the priest talked alone for about twenty minutes. Later, Lia called to tell me her mom couldn’t say enough about how kind and loving the priest had been to her. She told Lia that after they talked, he had heard her confession, and she had been filled with peace. Now, lying in the hospital bed, she no longer looked like herself. The color of her skin and the look in her eye revealed the ravages of a long progressive disease. “I was wondering if you would like to pray together,” I asked. “There is special prayer called the Divine Mercy Chaplet. It is a powerful prayer Jesus gave to a nun named Sister Faustina to spread His mercy throughout the world. It takes about seven minutes and one of the promises of the prayer is that those who say it will enter through the door of mercy rather than judgment. I pray it often,” I said. Lia’s mom looked up at me with one eyebrow raised. “How can that be true,” she asked. “What do you mean?” I said. “Are you telling me that if a hardened criminal prays that prayer minutes before he dies, he enters through the door of mercy rather than judgment? That doesn’t seem right,” she said. “Well, if a hardened criminal actually takes the time to pray it and pray it sincerely, then there must be hope in him, despite all he has done. Who is to say if and when the heart opens to God? I believe that where there is life, there is hope.” She stared at me intently. I continued. “If your son were a hardened criminal, wouldn’t you love him even though you hated his crimes? Wouldn’t you always hope for his change of heart because of the great love you have for him?” “Yes,” she said weakly. “God loves us much more than we could ever love our children and He is always ready to enter any heart with His mercy. He waits for those moments patiently and with great desire because He loves us so much.” She nodded. “That makes sense. Yes, I’ll pray it with you,” she said. The three of us prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet together, chatted a few more minutes, and then I left. Later that evening Lia called me. “My mom’s nurse called to tell me that right after I left the hospital, mom lost all lucidity.” We grieved together, prayed and hoped for her mom’s recovery. Lia’s mom died a few days later. On the night of her death, I had a dream. In my dream, I walked into her hospital room to find her sitting up in bed, wearing a beautiful red dress. She looked radiant, full of life and joy, smiling from ear to ear. The night of the wake, when I approached the coffin to pay my respects, I was stunned to see her wearing a red dress! Chills ran up my spine. I had never been to a wake where the deceased wore a red dress. It was highly unconventional and completely unexpected. After the funeral, I grabbed Lia and pulled her aside. “What made you put a red dress on your mom,” I asked. “My sister and I discussed it and decided we would put mom in her favorite dress. Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?” she asked. “No, it’s not that. The night your mom died, I dreamed I walked into her hospital room, found her sitting up smiling from ear to ear…and wearing a red dress!” I said. Lia’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “What? No way,” she said. “Yes, way,” I said. With tears streaming down her cheeks Lia said, “You and I were the last people she saw before her brain shut down. And that means the last thing she did was pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet!” I grabbed Lia and hugged her. “I’m so grateful you came with me that day, and we prayed with my mom, and that I was able to be with her before she lost her consciousness,” she said. “I can’t get over the fact that you saw her in your dream so happy and wearing a red dress.  I think Jesus is telling us she really did enter through the door of mercy.” she said.  “Thank you, Jesus.” “Amen,” I said.

“I walk by Faith, not by sight” chuckles Mario Forte as he shares an astonishing life witness I was born with glaucoma, so at the beginning of my life, I only had partial sight in my left eye and none at all in my right eye.  Over the years I have had more than 30 surgeries—the first when I was only three months old...At the age of seven, the doctors removed my right eye in the hope of preserving the sight in my left eye. When I was twelve years old, I got hit by a car while I was crossing the road on my way home from school. After becoming airborne—thought I was superman there for a bit—I landed with an almighty thud and ended up with a retinal detachment, among other things I had three months off  school recovering and undergoing more surgery, so I had to repeat Grade Seven. Everything is Possible As a child, blindness was normal to me because I could not compare it to anything else. But God gave me an insight. From a very early age, before I had received any official instruction, I would talk to God, just like any other person because I was so used to communicating with people that I could not see. I could only tell the difference between light and dark, but one day, in the blink of an eye, everything went black—like a light switching off. Although I have been in total darkness for more than 30 years, the grace of God gives me the courage to keep going. Now, it is not the physical light I see, but God’s light within. Without Him, I would not be any better than a piece of wood. The Holy Spirit makes everything possible. Sometimes people even forget that I am blind because I am able to move around the house, operate a computer and look after myself. This is thanks to my parents who always encouraged me to do things by myself. My father was an electrician who took me on site with him to help me understand his trade, even getting me to install power points and switches. He taught me how to think logically so I could adapt and improvise when things went wrong. My mother, with her caring, loving nature, sowed the seeds for my faith. She made sure that we prayed the Rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet together every day, so those prayers are engrained into my memory. They enabled me to successfully graduate with an IT degree. With their support, I would get in touch with the individual lecturers to get the course outline before the term started. Then we would go to the library to copy all the relevant materials so the Royal Blind Society could transcribe them for me. A Higher Call In my teens, I had a remarkable experience of God calling me. At that stage, I still had some sight in my left eye. While I was praying in the church one day, the main altar was suddenly illuminated with an intense light and an interior voice spoke tenderly, saying, “Come, Come to me.” This happened three times. Ever since, I have felt His hand protecting me with a love and mercy which I don’t deserve. This calling led me to consider if it were possible for me to become a priest or a deacon. That proved to be unrealistic but my Theology studies deepened my faith. I began to lead devotion to the Divine Mercy in a charismatic prayer group with the support of the parish priest. Despite all the setbacks I have suffered, I am grateful that I can be of service to the Lord and the people that I have met through the events I organize—the Divine Mercy devotions, overnight adoration and 40 Days for Life—have also assisted me after the deaths of my parents, my sister and my niece. They have become my family and help me weekly with domestic duties and special transport needs. Deep in My Heart The most tragic events in my life are not the lack of my sight but the loss of my closest relations, so I am especially grateful that these friends come with me to the cemetery to have a meal by the gravesides of my loved ones and pray the Divine Mercy chaplet for their souls. I try to focus on the positives—what I have, rather than on what I lack. I strive to do the best I can to carry out God’s commandments to love. Every day, I am determined to put God’s will first and put the Gospel into action. Saint Paul said, “We walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7) I often joke that I literally do this. That little verse speaks volumes. We will not see the fruits of our labour in this life. It is such a joy to work in God’s vineyard. Jesus suffered and died for me. Every single person can say this. Anyone who wants to know Him can come to receive the Lord. I give thanks and praise to the Lord that He has given us the opportunity to receive His glorious presence into our being. His living Word can revive us with the hope of the Resurrection, so that we can live each day in His presence and carry out His command to love. In my heart, I sing Alleluia! Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible; look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy that in difficult moments we might not despair, but with great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will, which is love and mercy itself. Amen.