Splinters from the Cross… on disappointment.

Splinters from the Cross… on disappointment.

It’s another Friday. And this is what this post is about. There are other posts on  angerworryperfectionism, and overworking… and today is on disappointment.

:::

Splinter from the Cross

Little headaches, little heartaches
Little griefs of every day.
Little trials and vexations,
How they throng around our way!
One great cross, immense and heavy,
so it seems to our weak will,
Might be borne with resignation,
But these many small ones kill.
Yet all life is formed of small things,
Little leaves, make up the trees,
Many tiny drops of water
Blending, make the mighty seas.
Let us not then by impatience
Mar the beauty of the whole,
But for love of Jesus bear all
In the silence of our soul.
Asking Him for grace sufficient
To sustain us through each loss,
And to treasure each small offering
As a splinter from His Cross.

- Author Unknown -

:::

Here I am again, looking for splinters, and one of the toughest ones for me is dealing with disappointments, and unrealized expectations. So many disappointments come along, some from our own mistakes and failures, and some that come through the failures and mistakes of others. Some cannot be avoided and some could have. That’s the nature of disappointment. There was a certain level of expectation, of anticipation, of performance or circumstance that we desired, but the outcome fell short.

The bigger issue is not so much that we are disappointed, but how do we deal with it? And that largely depends on the circumstances, but it is also a faith question. Disappointment is a form of suffering.

Sometimes a disappointment can be shrugged off; it’s a little thing, so don’t sweat the small stuff.

Sometimes its a big thing and it affects the lives of other people. Then we may be disappointed, but we may also be in a position to act, to correct something, to repair a wrong, or even just to soften the outcome. We move to help, to solves problems, to seek a new path, a way out of the disappointment toward fulfillment.

Or we may not be in a position to help at all, and we feel helpless. Or we’ve tried and failed. The the best thing we can do is try to be patient until feeling passes, and often staying a bit busy helps to deal with the emotional fall-out of disappointment.

It takes a measure of faith-filled discernment to know what’s best in dealing with disappointment. It helps to look for the kingdom thread. Jesus told us to “seek first the kingdom”…  and if we can see a little glimmer of that as we deal with disappointments, we are likely to choose the best part in dealing with the disappointing things in life. We are not to just seek first the kingdom when things are going great…but always.

Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.

- Matthew 6:33 -

Over time, I’ve learned that disappointment is one of the wedges of the devil. When something disappoints us, it has the potential to drive a wedge between God and ourselves, and ourselves and others. Disappointments can be setbacks with regards to tasks and achievements, or they can hurt us in relationships. Both kinds of disappointments  – with people or things — can lead to discouragement.

Discouragement is the older brother of disappointment, the bigger, more muscular brother who is often ready for a fight. If disappointment is a wedge, discouragement is the sledge hammer that can crush disappointments and sever us from ourselves, and others completely. Discouragement has the potential to separate us from God, both as a momentary distraction — it keeps the focus on ourselves and our miseries. And that’s when we need our focus on God the most! For when discouragement leads to despair, it seals off the heart from allowing God to enter it because the despair becomes a kind of blindness, even though the Lord is close to the despairing.

The LORD is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.

- Psalm 34:18

So it’s best to do as this little poem advises, “for the love of Jesus bear all in the silence of our soul. Asking Him for grace sufficient to sustain us through each loss.” This is not about being a martyr, as it is about trusting in God in good times, and especially in the bad times.

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair.

- 2Cor 4: 8 -

Let us offer up these disappointments as they come our way. Still, if we must act, let us not grow weary of doing what is right.

The poem talks about the little splinters we encounter from the Cross, but I think it’s helpful to take a deeper view of the bitter pain and disappointment of the Cross. Jesus was indeed, afflicted, and perplexed by not driven to despair.

Some people find that hard to believe given that Jesus uttered the words of Psalm 22 in his bitter agony…

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
Why art thou so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

- Psalm 22: 1 -

Indeed, yes, that certainly seems like despair does it not?

And yet…

Jesus was quoting the psalm fully aware that it was a foreshadowing of that very moment in time — a prophetic cry of all the hurts of humanity being nailed to that tree.

And yet…

Like a good Jewish Rabbi that he was, Jesus also knew the rest of the psalm that invokes the ultimate trust in God…

O my God, I cry by day, but thou dost not answer;
and by night, but find no rest.
Yet thou art holy,
enthroned on the praises of Israel.
In thee our fathers trusted;
they trusted, and thou didst deliver them.
To thee they cried, and were saved;
in thee they trusted, and were not disappointed.

-Psalm 22: 2-5-

There’s more, but you get the point. The deepest disappointments need not lead to despair. God is close to us in our brokenhearted moments. We may be crushed, but we oughtn’t despair.

May we ask for grace sufficient. For when we do, it will be there.

“In thee they trusted, and were not disappointed.”

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Splinters from the Cross… on overworking… w/ “Restless” by Audrey Assad (video)

Splinters from the Cross… on overworking… w/ “Restless” by Audrey Assad (video)

What’s with the splinters from the cross? Read this post from a few Fridays ago to catch up. This is my little attempt at keeping Fridays a bit more solemn in Lent. Previous weeks have dealt with anger, worry, and perfectionism. This week, it’s the addiction to work; which is a kind of perfectionism problem too.

Splinter from the Cross

Little headaches, little heartaches
Little griefs of every day.
Little trials and vexations,
How they throng around our way!
One great cross, immense and heavy,
so it seems to our weak will,
Might be borne with resignation,
But these many small ones kill.
Yet all life is formed of small things,
Little leaves, make up the trees,
Many tiny drops of water
Blending, make the mighty seas.
Let us not then by impatience
Mar the beauty of the whole,
But for love of Jesus bear all
In the silence of our soul.
Asking Him for grace sufficient
To sustain us through each loss,
And to treasure each small offering
As a splinter from His Cross.

- Author Unknown -

There’s a crazy kind of rhythm to the creative process. I’ll be honest. Sometimes I really don’t keep “normal” workday hours. My responsibilities are such that I’m often master of my own calendar and clock — very unlike my longtime career as a mother of children under our roof. Much more like my hectic radio days of long ago. And very slowly, over the last year or so, I’ve gravitated toward working a bit too much. It fills the time when I’m alone if Bob travels. It gives each day a purpose and a click. As if I had to justify my existence. Part of the this is just a job hazard. Being a freelancer, when there is work you are busy working, when there’s not, you’re doing what you can to get more work.

But when I take the long view, as a quasi-empty nester who can now pursue a full-time job because other obligations have ceased… I’m not sure I’m always got the right balance. Part of my problem is that I have a bunch of part-time careers that sometimes careen out of control and step on each other. That’s a calendar problem, and I’m working to address it… to literally, block off days for vacation, and time away from the desk, and yes, from social media.

But then there’s the sexy pull of the good work that I am doing. Sometimes I’m really working in the zone… and all other things fall away. I lose track of time. From a work standpoint that’s a good thing… it usually means I’m fully engaged, loving the work, in the moment and present to it.

The problem comes when I lose my boundaries, or my commitments to others. When I feel I’m too busy to take a break. I over-obsess. I need to walk the little dog that begs me to go out, or to stop in my day to pray at my appointed intervals. The temptation is to give in to the tyranny of the insignificant. Sure work is important, but its is meant for our good, as a way that the Lord provides for us. When work tempts me away from other Gifts God has given me in proper order, I’ve got to stop and reassess. I’ve been doing that a lot lately cuz I’ve been failing. Under the light of Lenten disciplines, I’m seeing my mistakes… and the temptations to cave in to the tyranny keep coming.

I love that I’m convicted by this little poem above… especially when it speaks to me of impatience… that our impatience mars the beauty of the whole. Ugh. Zings me straight to the heart. The last thing I want to do is kill off the beauty of the life God has blessed me with!

The temptation to over work can lead to a kind of insular thinking – that things matter more than priceless intangibles – and the people I love.

Work is not the enemy here. Jesus was a carpenter and a Rabbi. He worked too. He sanctified our work, thanks be to God. But when I elevate work as the god rather than the gift of God – rather than the means to celebrate the Gifts of the people in my life, then I mar the beauty of the whole.

If we steal time to work from other things we are impatient, we fail to see that God, in his time, makes things beautiful and successful, not us.

If we trade work for family time, (the loved ones are obvious losers here)…

or trade away our prayer? (yep, that’s stealing from God in my book),

or stealing from our sleep? (stealing or cheating our health),

It means we’ve already got a problem. Confess it. Hit the re-set. Ask me how I know this.

Here’s what I’m learning… and mind you, I’m not always successful… I’m talking to my priest about this very thing.

Keeping to a schedule is a form of self respect…

Keeping to a schedule is form of respecting others…

Keeping to a schedule is a way of letting go… and have time for God and for recreation.

“There’s a time for every matter under heaven”, says the book of Ecclesiastes. Yes, it says that. And a whole lot more.

Will I make time to read it — and live it? Go ahead. I hope you read it. (Even now I can feel the temptation to just skip over it. But if I want to love God better, I want to feel the splinters of conviction.)

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
What gain has the worker from his toil?
I have seen the business that God has given to the sons of men to be busy with.
He has made everything beautiful in its time; 

also he has put eternity into man’s mind,

yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.

 I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live;
also that it is God’s gift to man that every one should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil.
I know that whatever God does endures for ever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it;

God has made it so, in order that men should fear before him.

-Ecclesiastes 3: 1-14-

If I fear taking a break from work, then I need to trust God more. I need to trust him to fill what I fear will happen when I don’t keep pace.

I need to make the Lord of All Time, Lord of my time.

To give my restlessness a resting place.

The news we’ve all been waiting for…

The news we’ve all been waiting for…

I love that photo of the American Cardinals in Rome. It was posted by my good friend, Fr Chip Hines, a pastor and a film reviewer at Catholic TV– one of the many media-savvy priests I know! This is a very exciting time to be a Catholic! I have some very good friends who are big time newsy bloggers, and they are doing us all a great service by writing about the conclave. I admire the way they become channels for the news and the political commentary that accompanies it, all while being beacons of light through what they write and say. Me, I’m not that blogger. I’m not the breaking-news kind of writer, despite my first aspirations in journalism.

I started out in broadcast news as a young woman — working for a news radio station for the morning anchor desk covering and researching stories on Long Island. After several months I found I did not have the stomach for it. I became too emotionally involved in it and never found that right combination of professional detachment and the intense inquisitive savvy to ask the burning questions and to push unrelentingly for the answers. I knew I wanted to write, but was momentarily adrift when deciding against journalism. The professionals advised, “use the tools already in your toolkit”, and “find a field where they are appreciated.” Eventually I shifted out of news and went into copywriting, and the programming side of radio.

Along the way, I learned to use my voice for good, both on the page and behind a microphone. Being a deejay that played music made people happy… it took their minds off the harshness of the ever-changing news cycles and the troubles of the day. It seemed a form of  announcing “good” news. It gave me a chance to offer encouragement and to lead with a smile. But that too, while fun and uplifting, still only went so far. The deepest satisfaction career-wise was still to come… It took me a long time to discover that what fascinated me most was what was unchanging: God. I wanted a field where I could use media and talk about God.

Decades later, I’m still that same girl. Both behind the microphone and on the page I pray to be an encourager, and someone who offers the good news… Sure, I appreciate those writers whose gift it is to find and shift through the daily news for the worthy nuggets to report, and those who survey and analyze the news and offer their opinions. We need them. I read them and I salute them. But I look for what is unchanging, I look for the moments that in some way lift the veil on the present circumstance to reveal the God who was, who is, and will be.

“Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and for ever.”

- Hebrews 13: 8 -

That’s not just great copy, that’s the truth.

That’s what we Catholics are about.

That’s Who the Church is built upon, the Rock of Ages. And the man whose lot it will be to sit in Peter’s Chair will have the premier duty to announce that. The next Pope will remind us that the GOOD NEWS of JESUS CHRIST is real, and meant to be shared.

In those early fleeting media moments when cameras and microphones worldwide are trained on the new pope — when his name is finally known to the world — be sure to pray for him that he uses his voice to speak of that news. Underneath that new white zucchetto is a man whose whole life brought him to that precise moment… to lead a billion Catholics, and to give witness behind a microphone, on camera, and on the page to billions more besides. Let us pray that God might use his gifts, his lifelong field of experiences. We do not know what may yet be in his tool kit, but we do know that God will add to it a measure of grace that comes from his anointing and the graces of Orders.

The names of  the popes may change, but the mission never does. That is why we are waiting for white smoke, and anticipating the announcement of a name that will be etched into our history. Let us simply pray for this man, this priest, this Bishop, this Prince of the Church, this future Holy Father.

Regardless of the papal elections, Jesus is King and Lord of All; the greatest news ever told or recorded. News that is unchanging and worthy of our belief. And soon, his Vicar, his herald, will again be in our midst.

May he bring Good News.

 

Splinters from the Cross… on perfectionism

Splinters from the Cross… on perfectionism

So I missed a week of blogging due to my travels… but now I’m back.

:::

For the Fridays in Lent, I’ve been reflecting on the trials we have in life, and looking at them as if they are splinters from the Cross of Christ. To catch up on this theme on “splinters from the cross” you may wish read the poem that the phrase comes from by looking back on my original post on anger, and the one on worry.

:::

I have long struggled with perfectionism. It’s really a clinging to some kind of control in different situations, as a form of power over things or circumstances. It has been a liability that I’ve tripped over time and again… that things are not good enough, or worse, that I am not good enough. This tendency has been something God has asked me to lay down, time and again. And slowly, over the years, I’ve gotten better at spotting perfectionism sooner rather than later.  A real turning point for me came in the days leading up to a health crisis, a time of grace that God used to lavish me with his unselfish, unfathomable merciful love… reminding me that he really does have my best interest at heart, even when I face a cross.

In the summer of 1996, in the few days between the biopsy surgery for breast cancer and getting the results, I went to a conference sponsored by Franciscan University on “Mary, Mercy, and the Eucharist.” There I heard a profound talk by Fr George Kosicki, CSB, on the divine mercy message. Fr Kosicki explained several spiritual things, including the path to heaven. Paraphrasing him now, he shared this keen insight that has never left me: if we want to be saints and go to heaven, the quickest way to heaven is to die for the faith. Indeed, Christian martyrs go straight to heaven when they die. For the rest of us, he said, we have to die daily.

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

- Matthew 16: 24-25 rsv -

We have to die daily. That’s another way of saying that the Cross comes to all of us in ways that are meant for our good, for our transformation. It configures us to Christ.

But let’s face it, back then when I heard Fr George’s words, I was a tad hypersensitive about that whole subject: I didn’t want to die! No, no, NO!  I was 36 and scared I was facing a disease that might pre-empt the rest of my life — the life where I would live to see my children raised and grown — the life that was supposed to be a “happily ever after” with my husband. I was afraid to die. Afraid to leave things undone, unfinished, unsaid, and, ahem, out of my control. My plan was not going according to plan.

I never knew how strong my perfectionism streak ran until I came across something like cancer, something that totally made me undone… and completely at its mercy for where it might take me. (Fortunately, six months earlier, God saw what I would need — precisely when I would need it — and prior to any threat of breast cancer, I had already sent in my application to attend the conference on Mary and Mercy.)

In the course of that weekend, I spent a lot of time on my knees experiencing the deep and wide mercy of God. I had a good, cleansing confession, and I came away from Mass with a sense of supernatural peace that came from a new and deeper trusting of Jesus than I had before.

In sounds like a cliché, but it was true: God was in control. Not me. I left that conference knowing I was in a state of grace, unlike I had ever known before. I had encountered Divine Mercy.

Meanwhile, life was going to seem quite a bit out of control very shortly thereafter. Hours after my return home from the conference, the biopsy results came in positive. And the rest, as they say, is history. Surgeries and check ups and recoveries dominated months out of my life. But I was so grateful for the palpable presence of Divine Mercy, and the Christian community that surrounded me through it all. One of the fruits of the state of grace is that we can do things that would not necessarily be within our own powers, for grace builds on nature. The weeks that followed my diagnosis were the first time that I ever knowingly, willingly, embraced the words of Jesus to pick up and embrace my cross. What’s more,  in so doing, even more graces were released. Prior to this time in my life, I had always received crosses with an attitude of disdain, of inconvenience, of “why-me?”

Divine mercy showed me the inverse: true power is picking up the hurts and struggles — the splinters– with love, a love that comes from the Crucified One, who is truly with us in our pain, our own Good Fridays.

Years later, even though I’m quite scarred in body, these little aches and pains that come both physically and emotionally from cancer continue to be an opportunity to die daily. More than that, they are an opportunity to remember Who is in control, and whose Cross lightens my own. Carrying my own cross becomes another way I can be grateful for God’s mercy on me.

To die daily is the antidote to my perfectionistic bent. The little annoying splinters from the cross that come my way are helping to heal me of the need to want to control things, to be in charge, to make things perfect. My struggles with perfectionism has not ended but they are lessened — for the goodness of grace builds on my weak nature. Thanks to grace from the sacraments over the years, I can see a change. I’m not as obtuse to perfectionism as I was, and I can “let go” of things a lot sooner than before. Perfectionism is one more thing I can offer up… to release the things that vex me… as a way of better fitting the cross to my shoulder.

 

 

Photo taken by Maria Johnson

 

Splinters from the Cross… on worry

Splinters from the Cross… on worry

I’m a worrier by nature. But I don’t have to live that way. There’s more on this below.

:::

What’s with the splinters from the cross? Read this post from last Friday to catch up. This is my little attempt at keeping Fridays a bit more solemn in Lent. Last week’s post dealt with anger. This week, it’s worry.

Splinter from the Cross

Little headaches, little heartaches
Little griefs of every day.
Little trials and vexations,
How they throng around our way!
One great cross, immense and heavy,
so it seems to our weak will,
Might be borne with resignation,
But these many small ones kill.
Yet all life is formed of small things,
Little leaves, make up the trees,
Many tiny drops of water
Blending, make the mighty seas.
Let us not then by impatience
Mar the beauty of the whole,
But for love of Jesus bear all
In the silence of our soul.
Asking Him for grace sufficient
To sustain us through each loss,
And to treasure each small offering
As a splinter from His Cross.

- Author Unknown -

:::

Everyone worries sometimes, but some of us get caught up in it more than others.

For lack of a better way to describe myself, I have a outward side and an inward one, thanks to a choleric-melancholic temperament. That probably sounds a bit fake. It’s not being two-faced, or false in front of others, as much as its about having a strong persona that is capable of carrying on in the face of challenges and adversity. That take charge thing has a tendency to take charge, and protect the meeker spirit within. It’s like the British myth of keeping a still upper lip. But when stuff on the inside is churning, I am capable of waiting until I’m alone, or with someone I hold very dear, to come apart. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, as the cliché goes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an intensely passionate and sensitive side. I’m am all of those things all at once. Sensitive and spiritual, while dealing with a strategic pragmatism that wants to figure things out, charge ahead, and be not afraid. In social situations my choleric Pat tends to dominate my sensitive melancholic Patty. My choleric tends to have the voice. But the melancholic is the one with the words, and the strongest love. If you really get to know me, I’m a quirky combination of seriousness and silliness, but the serious side often wins out. If you read that link about this kind of temperament, you’ll see St Paul was thought to have this temperament. That’s a strange comfort to me. It’s good to know that to be a saint, God can work with the raw materials I’ve already got, just as He has before.

Looking back over decades of living with this temperamental mix, I can see the best and the worst of me. The best of my choleric qualities have worked as a fine combination in business, when things are task oriented and goal driven, but in its extremes, its not always the best when it comes to the ways of the heart and the needs of marriage and family life. That’s a been a cause of worry and grief, when my gusto far outweighed my gentleness. The melancholic tendencies I possess make my thoughts run really deep and ponderable, while at the same time they make me a deeply loyal and noble friend. The self-donation needed for marriage and family is easily offered, while in its extremes, a melancholic’s weaknesses lead to being easily hurt and resentful — always a source of worry, too, or too much self-focus.

It took me a long time to figure out how my “lion” ought to lay down with my “lamb”, to poorly paraphrase the Scripture. And that there is real beauty in both aspects to this temperament. It also took me until my forties, and many graces from the sacraments, to really understand just how my strengths and weaknesses could intersect with ministry, and the kind of work that I do now…

All of this is a long way to say I have a very vivid imagination — I’m full of ideas and zeal — yet I’m prone to worry and left to my own devices I can brood over things. It’s like my default becomes stuck and set to pessimism, to seeing the glass half full. It worries me. I don’t want to be this way. It seems antithetical to a Christian’s faith, or so my rational choleric take-charge mind tells me. But I can’t escape the still waters of melancholic worry.

So what do I do? I’ve learned there are three things that help. They all address fear in some way, which is the root of all worry.

(That’s why some of my favorite passages in the Bible are “Do not be afraid” and “Do not fear”. There are multiple references to them, so its a message God really wants us to hear and know: Fear is useless. We must trust.)

Trust for me has three elements: prayer + a big God + my knowing my dignity as a Child of God.

#1 I pray. 

Worry drives me to my knees. Precisely because I am a Christian I’ve learned that I am no end in myself. I can’t change the way I’ve been made, but thanks to grace, I can change the way I react to things. In other words, I think God made me with this temperament, precisely, to bring me to him. The things I don’t like in me, like the melancholic worry-gene, and the strong striver-take-charger, I can bring both extremes, my roughest edges, to God. Over and over again. And He doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s prefer it that way because he’d rather work through me than have me do things without him. Whenever St. Paul complains about his thorn in the flesh, I often think he had a melancholic streak that drove his choleric up a tree. A self-critical nature can bring can ruin in a soul without God. So can worry. I do both. So I need a lot of God.

Fortunately, we have a great many saints whose counsel against worry have lit a path for turning fears into faith…

“Pray, hope, and don’t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer.”

– Padre (St.) Pio –

That part about God being merciful? That really addresses the heart of my self-struggles with worry. It demands that I trust Him. And that’s a good, healthy way for my lion and lamb to coexist… they both find peace in the trust of a merciful God.

#2 I trust in a Big God.

I’ve racked up a pretty big pile of annoying self-inflicted splinters over worry that did me no good — before I learned that trials and concerns must be borne in trust of God. Jesus wants me to seek him first of all in all things. Worriers would do well to memorize his words.

“Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me.”

John 14: 1

Now what I’ve learned is that Jesus can take a worry-wart like me, and by his grace, turn me into a powerful intercessor. There’s always a reason to pray, and now I don’t hesitate. Now I even ask other people what I can pray for on their behalf. You would think if I’m already given to worry by nature, why would I want to take on anyone elses worries? But in prayer a curious paradox takes place. By my sharing their load, and by having a few fellow intercessors take my concerns too, it, ultimately reduces my worries! It increases my faith and trust in Christ, and in his Body, the Church!

Jesus said, “I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life?  And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?

Therefore do not be anxious, saying, `What shall we eat?’ or `What shall we drink?’ or `What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.”

Matthew 6: 24-34.

The Father that is mentioned by Jesus in that passage is my father, too. I often forget that. That Big God is not some impersonal omnipotent deity. He is my father.

#3 I remember whose I am.

When I can remember that God is a father, and I belong to him, it has the power to calm my racing heart. My worries find the exit. Someone else is the true grown up in the room, the  weight-carrier, the one with the world on their shoulder. I can curl up in his lap, and, as the 12-steppers say: “Let go, and let God.” This is why, when I faced the deepest worries of my life — related to my breast cancer diagnosis in  1996 — I found my deepest consolation in the wisdom of Scripture, and in the example of the saints, like St. Francis de Sales. They both teach me how to live the radical trust that is the birthright of a Child of God, given to me at baptism.

Do not look forward in fear to the changes of life;

rather look to them with full hope as they arise.

 God, whose very own you are,

will lead you safely through all things;

and when you cannot stand it,

God will carry you in His arms.

Do not fear what may happen tomorrow;

the same everlasting Father who cared for you today

will take care of you then and every day.

He will either shield you from suffering,

Or will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace

And put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.

– St Francis de Sales–

Taming worry into trust has been a lifelong process for me. But I offer it up to God, again, this Lent, “asking him for grace sufficient.”


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Friday in Lent… Picking up splinters from the Cross

Friday in Lent… Picking up splinters from the Cross

For regular readers of this blog, the weekly “F.U.N. Quotient” is taking a little break for Lent. It will return in the Easter season. Fridays, being the day Christ died on the Cross, begs for my attempt at solemnity for Lent. So for the next several Fridays in Lent, I’d like to deal with the splinters of trouble, heartache, and fear, and how our sufferings really do offer a way toward redemption.

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When I was a young girl, I heard a poem about how each of our own trials were like splinters from the Cross of Christ. In the years hence, that image about the splinters stayed with me.

Here’s the poem… It’s a little schmaltzy, its not Tennyson or Byron or Keats, but it gets the job done.

Splinter from the Cross

Little headaches, little heartaches
Little griefs of every day.
Little trials and vexations,
How they throng around our way!
One great cross, immense and heavy,
so it seems to our weak will,
Might be borne with resignation,
But these many small ones kill.
Yet all life is formed of small things,
Little leaves, make up the trees,
Many tiny drops of water
Blending, make the mighty seas.
Let us not then by impatience
Mar the beauty of the whole,
But for love of Jesus bear all
In the silence of our soul.
Asking Him for grace sufficient
To sustain us through each loss,
And to treasure each small offering
As a splinter from His Cross.

- Author Unknown -

While I love the spiritual life, the truth is, the more I know, the more I don’t know. Another way to say it is, the closer I come to Christ, the more I’m stripped down to the basics more and more. The call to holiness for me often comes down to dealing with these little trials each day… little headaches, heartaches, and vexations.

Isn’t that just a lovely way of describing the things that really piss me off?

I’ve had a quick temper my whole life. And learning to not fly off the handle, forgive the archaic cliché, has been one of my biggest life lessons. If there has been one consistent area of sin for me, it has been that. Trying to tame the tongue that goes with it has also been a challenge.

What I’ve learned over the years is that I need to lower the set point for my anger. Just as we work to slowly lower the set point of weight gain, we can slowly lower the trigger points for anger. Like weight loss that comes from finding a good balance between less caloric intake and adding more exercise, reducing the anger in my life came from finding the balance between taking in less anger, or avoiding the near occasion to sin with anger, and adding more joy and laughter… such as raising the fun quotient, looking to the blessings and good things in life, and having people in my life who help me “lighten up” when my somber moods and seriousness get in high gear. I can’t change my temperament that tends toward the serious side of life, but I can change how I cope with it. That’s where the grace comes in, to help make those adjustments and course corrections. I may still be bent toward anger, but I don’t have to sin toward anger. Being tempted to anger is not the sin, only the harmful actions of anger are.

So I’ve collected quite a pile of splinters that I’ve pulled from the anger years in my life. Prayer and the sacraments are still the antidote for me.

 

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You are the apple of God’s eye. (That’s not from a Hallmark greeting card, that’s in the Bible…)

You are the apple of God’s eye. (That’s not from a Hallmark greeting card, that’s in the Bible…)

SONY DSCToday’s Morning Prayer canticle from Deuteronomy captures this phrase:

“He encircled him, he cared for him,
he kept him as the apple of his eye. (Dt 32:10)

Elsewhere in the Old Testament the Psalmist prays:

“Keep me as the apple of the eye;
hide me in the shadow of thy wings.” (Ps 17:8)

The bible makes use of that phrase in other books as well. There are a number of colloquial phrases that have made their way into our language, but this one from the Bible, about our being the apple of God’s eye, is a particular favorite of mine since my teenage years. Coming across it again today was like receiving a hug from heaven.

Augustine taught that God loves us –as if we were the only one! That’s the sense that I get from this little phrase. God love me. And I know that in the magnanimity of his love, God loves you too, the same way.

When I take God at his word, and trust that it has something in it for me — to help me or encourage me — it makes all the difference in my day. (That’s why I love to spend a little time with the Bible each morning, even if I’m praying the shortened version of Morning Prayer found in my Magnificat.)

 

How about you? Do you have a favorite bible verse that has become meaningful lately, or one from long ago that you’ve revisited lately?

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Faith and friendship and evangelization: Who has invited you “come, and see”?

From Morning Prayer:

“The Lord’s friendship is for those who revere him; to them he reveals his covenant.” - Psalm 25:14

I’m contemplating the sheer graces of God’s friendship this morning as I chew on this little morsel from the psalms I found in the Magnificat this morning. Often the call to be a saint starts with the call to be a friend of God. The saints truly are friends of God, and that should be our aspiration, as Christians.

I love today’s Gospel too.

“John was standing with two of his disciples,
and as he watched Jesus walk by, he said,
“Behold, the Lamb of God.”

The two disciples heard what he said and followed Jesus.
Jesus turned and saw them following him and said to them,
“What are you looking for?”
They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher),
“where are you staying?” 
He said to them, “Come, and you will see.”
So they went and saw where he was staying,
and they stayed with him that day. (See John 1:35-39.)

 Jesus says: “Come, and you will see” to the two who inquire after him.

A simple friendly invitation initiates a life-changing friendship with Jesus. What a model for evangelization! I know I was brought to Jesus through the holy influence of people who extended their friendship to me. And I’m thanking God for them today.

Who has invited you to walk alongside Jesus, to “come, and see”? And who will you invite?

 

It’s all about Jesus. His presence in the Host is the door to the infinite… my latest column at Patheos

IMG_0617Today the optional memorial in the Church calendar is the Holy Name of Jesus. It’s not only the name for Our Lord and Savior, it makes a perfect prayer… “Jesus”.  Here’s my own little homage to Jesus for today… a sampling from my column at Patheos…

When I consider the proximity of Jesus to me personally in the Mass, and in particular when I sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament, that’s what warms my heart toward his; to know that his heart is first turned toward me, that his heart burns for mine.

When I humbly kneel or sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament elevated in the monstrance, I’m looking into a holy portal to the other side of all we can hope and imagine. The host in the monstrance is, out of its element, in suspended animation. Its bread was consecrated so that it might be consumed and receive by a communicant—to strengthen them with the very body and blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ. It is destined, still, to be Holy Communion that nourishes and becomes part of its recipient. Yet, for the moment, that purpose is delayed, as the Church in her wisdom “exposes” the Incarnate One on the Altar that we might draw near to the very love that beats for us, from the heart that gave all.

This is why it’s called Adoration.

When we come face to face with heart of this love, we learn what it means to adore. True adoration brings an intimate knowledge we cannot find on our own. In adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, we get a foretaste of the infinite, a prolonged visitation of the True Presence outside of the Mass. Within that thin opaque portal, the Host holds all we need to know and can imagine.

I admit I cannot often describe what goes on in those moments of prayer. But in my finite knowledge of the ways of love I fathom it as my heart “seeing” the face of Jesus, the heart of Jesus, the hands of Jesus—all the infinite Good that my heart can hold. And I can almost imagine passing through the veil between heaven and earth.

The rest is here.

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Here’s a little bonus for the feast day in honor of the Most Holy Name of Jesus… (I’ve long loved this simple song from Margaret Becker.)

 

Remembering my thanksgivings, with a proverbial string around my finger

Remembering my thanksgivings, with a proverbial string around my finger

Ever keep a song on your playlist for 10 years or more? For me, this is one of those…

Did you listen to it?

Since it came out in 2000, every single time, I’m convicted by that lyric… “You are faithful, I’m forgetful.” It’s so true that I often just breeze by Christ, who is standing smack dab in the middle of my daily grind, and I miss his Presence. For me, this song calls me back to thanksgiving, every time. It’s often a song I play in the car on my way to adoration on Fridays. It’s a reminder of the wonder of adoration and the heart that calls unto to me whenever I’m there. But its a reminder to come back to Him. Daily. Over and over again. To not miss the moments that He is in. To ask him for reminders for my eyes to see that He is faithful.

I played this song again today, as I went for a walk down the country lane, as I prayed to keep Christ hidden in the center of my “to do” list for this holiday weekend. There is so much to do, and I’m already fretting I’m not getting it all done. That’s why I escaped to pray and walk and think, being mindful of what St Francis de Sales counsels. St Frank taught that a lay person ought to pray 30 minutes a day, and a busy person ought to pray an hour! (I’m trusting the logic of the saints here, big time.)

Walking back home I’m again convicted and called to make this thanksgiving weekend one in which I do not forget Him or His love for me, as I revel in the love of our crazy family reunions… yes, to see Him in their faces, every one. To even to keep a secret quiet place in my heart where His love is Present even when we are in lines of long traffic jams, or elbow deep in greasy dishes and clean up from feeding the families, or making various other small sacrifices that come when families travel far and near to be together.

“God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” (1 Cor 1:9)

There are so many things to be grateful for this year….

There are my 30 years with this man…

And this amazing threesome…

And all the treasures of this past year… including another kiddo out of college…

(and with a good job, thankfully!)

And another studying at a great university that is restoring what it means to be a transformative Catholic institution… and who is excited to go to Mass here…

And the discovery that I now have a future son-in-love… (though we had guessed it might come to pass eventually).

You’ve probably heard this, but there are some cool things have been happening in my little corner of the writing world…

And as I pray, I’m grateful to live where I live and to know the good friends that I have both here in New England and around the country. Your friendship is like a tranquil oasis that soothes my erratic heart, and helps bring me near to Him. (A shout out to all the Among Women community too!)

So if you pass me by somewhere this weekend, don’t look for the string around my finger, look for the silly grin of gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving from my house to yours!