Will It Always Be Night?

It began just as a light fog - things weren't as clear as they had been, but the fog thickened.  I could feel it closing in around me, but still the path at my feet and just ahead was visible.  Then it started to rain - a cold, drenching rain - causing me to huddle inside, making my way slippery and slow.  And then I saw the night approaching.  Here I sit, in the middle of a foggy, rainy, night with no stars since clouds are low and thick.  I dare not move.  Every now and then I get a glimpse of light, but it does not light the path or show me what surrounds.  It is too quick, too brief.  Will it always be night?  How long must I stay in this desert?  It seems like it has already been a long time, though I know I can count it in mere months.  I would say I am lost, for that is what it feels like, but lost doesn't seem quite right.  There are things I know, and it is to these that I must cling.  For even when I can see nothing around me, even when I cannot see any light or any path, I know that He has not abandoned me.  I know where I want to be, even if I don't know the way.  What did Frodo say?  "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though-- I do not know the way."  I cannot be completely lost, for I know my goal is Heaven, to be with God for all eternity - even if at the moment "I do not know the way."

What to do?

Our parish hosted the "Ecumenical Lenten Soup Supper" tonight, and I was asked by our lay leader (he is trained to lead a Communion/Word Service in the absence of a priest, which does sometimes happen here) to assist him in leading one half of the group as we prayed the Liturgy of the Hours/Vespers tonight.  I also read one of the readings.  Even though I am an incurable introvert, I don't mind being out in front of a group of people.  I have been trained in public speaking, and specifically in Scriptural Reading (thank you Sr. de Lourdes!).  I minored in Drama in college.  Speaking in front of large groups, even though I do get nervous, is something at which I am fairly good.

But here is the dilemma:  I was asked tonight by the lay leader if I would like to be trained as a lay leader.  I don't think women should lead services which might be construed by some to be a Mass - for even though it is made quite clear, I know that there are some who don't really see the difference.  There are many in my parish who are in favor of women priests.  My "being raised" to this lay-leader position would bring even more attention to the debate here about women priests.  My gut tells me not to accept the offer.  But could I, in a position of leadership in the parish, possible bring about some changes?  Bring more orthodoxy, more devotions, more Catholicism to the parish?  For example, we do not have Stations of the Cross offered during Lent - is this a way to bring more orthodox Catholicism to this progressive little parish?

I am torn and do not know what to think.  I will certainly pray and ask for guidance, but if anyone has an opinion I would be willing to hear it.  I am in the middle of the desert right now - only small glimmers of light come to me.  I know now is not the time to make a change, until this time of personal spiritual darkness is over, but....  I am conflicted.  Of course, this could just be the adversary baiting me and trying to get me to change my focus. 

And then there is this:  the primary reason my husband gives for not attending this parish is because of two men in the parish.  Guess who they are?  One is the current lay leader.  The other has accepted the offer to be another.  I already have to be careful that I do not mention these two men's names to my husband - what would it mean to be working very closely with them?  I don't know.  Please pray for me as I try to make this decision - and any good advice would be appreciated.

Really, I'm trying!

I have no less than three posts sitting in draft form.  Everything seems trite.  Sigh.  I'm just having one of those periods where nothing in my brain can make it to paper in even remotely the same form in which it forms in my brain.

Of course, it could just be that my younger son won't stop talking to me...and I can't think with all that constant chatter.  ARGHHHHH!

Where I'm From, a poem

I am from cornbread, fried shrimp,

Hushpuppies and grits…

From iced tea, straight up,

Tea bag re-used three times.

I am from the Southern Pine,

Deeply rooted in red clay,
Bending in hurricane winds,

Surrounded by azaleas and dogwoods.

I am from Pecan orchards,

Row upon row of Silver Queen Corn;

Sirmon’s “Big Ol’” Strawberries:

Pick your own.

I am from the afternoon thunderstorm,

Tornado shelters, trailer parks.

From water moccasins in the streets,

Courtesy of Hurricane Frederick.

I am from plaid school uniforms,

Multiplication tables, perfect penmanship

Taught with an Irish brogue

And a ruler.

From respect for our Flag

Folded with military precision,

With dreams of West Point

And horses.

I am from the Lady of Chalot,
Twelfth Night, Psalm 27,

To comfort and soothe my soul.

From the rich melody of

Old family names: 

Guarisco, Lazzari, Bertagnolli…

Surrounding my new one;

Green eyes hiding among dark brown.

I am from fear, anger, violence

And the black leather belt

Hanging on a nail.

I am from the smell of cheap beer,

whiskey watered down;

From Strength in silence,

Hiding for safety,

Quiet, listening.

I am from a childhood misplaced,

Pictures lost, traditions forgotten,

Family scattered

By our own choosing.

Nothing to tie me to home

Except lessons from the past

Learned with my ear
To the floor.

(Inspired by: "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon)

Homily Encouraging Confession

Everyone should read this homily -- well, at least every Catholic :-)!!

Releasing the Arrow

Amen!

We had a visiting priest for the past two Sundays.  He is a Benedictine, not even 2 years ordained, and from a town probably about 2.5 hours from the ferry landing (so, he had a really long day getting here and getting back - I'm thinking he spent Saturday night).  Well, we had maybe 50 people in attendance yesterday - you see, there was this football game (Seattle Seahawks) which apparently was around the same time as the Mass.  Father thanked us for coming, and continued on by saying (and this is probably a bad paraphrase) that the lack of attendance was a sign that the Church is a hospital for sinners, not a <museum> of saints and people often miss the mark...and some must not realize the importance of attending Sunday Mass.  After he said this, you could feel the surprise in the room, the choir decided to launch right into the Kyrie', and I tried very hard not to laugh in gleeful surprise at a priest who wasn't afraid to say something which might make him unpopular - granted, he won't be here next week, but I was still gladdened at his statement.  Woo hoo! 

Amen, Fr. PT.  Amen!

Christmas Dinner

Here is the menu for Christmas Dinner - just the four of us, so we'll have lots of left-overs!

Double-berry salad (raspberry gelatin/cranberry sauce)
Herb-roasted turkey with Glazed Carrots (fresh sage and the last carrots from the garden)
Sausage dressing
Broccoli
Sweet Potato Casserole
Buttermilk biscuits

Two-tone Pound Cake

I'm getting started today, since I'm the only one who cooks, and tomorrow Christmas Mass is at 1pm (we only have the one option here), so that ends up right in the middle of prime cooking time.  Though Father may end on time so he can catch the mid-afternoon ferry back home. :-)

Oh, and I can't forget, I'm also making chocolate chip cookies for Santa. 

If I'm feeling bold tomorrow, I'll post pictures of dinner, a la Fr. Z! 

Covering My Head

I've recently begun to wear a head covering to Mass.  I already did this for times I spent in Eucharistic Adoration, and occasionally for prayer - the chapel veil helps me to keep focus.  Kind of like blinders on a horse, the veil allows me to focus "straight ahead" and not let distractions bother me.  I do not wear a chapel veil for the Mass, though, just a small expandable head band.  Perhaps one day I'll have the courage to wear the veil, but as it is now the small covering is all I manage.  Even in wearing this, I notice some of the more progressive (mostly women) people of this already progressive parish looking askance at me, and some even avoid eye-contact with me. 

I am the reader for Christmas - will I wear a head covering when I read?  I'm not sure yet.  I am praying about it.  What is my motivation?  Why do I want to wear something on my head?  In one way I am trying to lead by example - lead people "back" to a more traditional/orthodox expression of the Faith.  But on the other hand, I am doing it because it helps me and reminds me where I am and in whose presence I am sitting.  Do I have to wear a head covering to remember this?  No, but it helps - and most weeks I need all the help I can get!

Merry Christmas!   

Why?

He has drawn me closer and closer to Him,

Encouraging my independence from creatures

And my dependence upon the Creator.

He has pulled me further and further in,

Showing me His hand, gentle and strong,

Inviting me to rest within His embrace.

He has called me and helped me to answer,

Not leaving me on my own but always staying with me

Carrying me just as I take a step forward,

Gracing me with strength, courage, wisdom.

He has shown me that I have nothing, am nothing,

Yet am full of all that He is,

Full of all that He has given me.

So why do these tears haunt me?

Why do these questions weigh down my heart?

Why can I not just take what He offers,

Giving myself completely to Him,

Knowing that when I do,

He will give everything to me?

"I Have Sent Your Children to Heal You" (with minor changes)

I don't know how a parent recovers from the loss of a child.  We, parents, are supposed to die first - it is the "natural order".  It is expected that our children will live long, healthy lives years beyond our own.  A parent shouldn't attend their own child's funeral.  These are some of the thoughts that have gone through my mind in the days after the shooting in Newtown, CT.  My heart is broken over this tragedy.  I have found myself in tears, feeling sadness - yes, for the children, their parents, the adults killed, their families, the shooter, his family, the town, etc...  But also for something far deeper and bigger - what is going on with this world we live in?  I have asked this question so many times over the past several months.  I have been thinking of death a lot, and am working on an article which has required me to think of death, hope, faith, suffering....  There are days it is too much and I just want to curl up in a corner and cry.

I must be careful and aware of my internal emotional state.  I tend toward depression and despair, so when things begin feeling "normal" I have to stop and take stock.  It seems my default setting is depression since I have suffered from this illness since my youth.  It is said this can be hereditary, but I wonder how much is nature vs. nurture since both my parents self-medicated with alcohol and though never "diagnosed" with any mental illness, it is quite evident to me that we as a family suffered from one or more psychological conditions.  When a child is brought up in a situation like this, it is "normal" and so any other state seems abnormal.  Is this caused by genetics or is it just a reflection of the environment to which one is exposed - or a combination of both?

It is only in the past three years that I have risen out of the grip of depression.  As I made my way back to Christ, as I re-found my true Father in God, I began to feel a strange sensation:  Hope.  What a wonder hope is!  Hope was not something I remember having much of as I was growing up.  But as long as I can keep my eyes focused on the Cross I can fairly easily find "hope" and that seems for me the key to maintaining a grip on the joy that we are all meant to possess.

But there are times when this hope escapes me - I try to keep my eyes on the Lord but just can't seem to gather the courage - like the past few days.  It all seems so senseless - and it makes me think of the research I have been doing for my article.  This tragedy sends my mind thinking of abortion and physician-assisted suicide.  I am left wondering, praying, doubting, seeking, grasping....

There are logical and rational and practical considerations, but right now they are all out the window.  The idealist in me is devastated.  And I am reminded of something which came to me a couple of years ago in prayer: "I have sent your children to heal you."  This was a personal message for me, and it has personal implications and meanings, but as I have thought and felt and cried my way through the news of this tragedy, this "message" returned to my thoughts and I began to wonder --  what are we to do if we are killing our children?  How shall we ever be healed?  How deep is the evil ingrained in us when we turn on our own children? Our future? This pain I feel is the same pain I have felt when considering the numbers of children who have been killed by their own mothers - the pain I have felt when trying to gather people together for pro-life prayers, and none have come - the pain I have felt wondering what this world is coming to if we cannot protect and cherish and love the most precious and innocent life there is.  It is a pain I am unable to bear on my own - a pain which runs deep - a pain which threatens to engulf me.  A pain which can only be mitigated through prayer, and a practice of and trust in Faith...Hope...and Love.

Now for something completely different....

Ever wondered what I do in my spare time?  Didn't think so, but here is a picture of something I've been working on most of my life...one day I'll be able to grab my foot, right?  :-)

Excerpt from Psalm 51 (Knox translation, 50)

Have mercy on me, O God,
as thou art ever rich in mercy;
in the abundance of thy compassion,
blot out the record of my misdeeds.
Wash me clean,
cleaner yet, from my guilt,
purge me of my sin,
the guilt which I freely acknowledge,
the sin which is never lost to my sight.
Thee only have my sins offended;
it is thy will I have disobeyed;
thy sentence was deserved,
and still when thou givest award thou hast right on thy side.
For indeed, I was born in sin;
guilt was with me already when my mother conceived me.
But thou art a lover of faithfulness,
and now, deep in my heart,
thy wisdom has instructed me.
Sprinkle me with a wand of hyssop,
and I shall be clean;
washed, I shall be whiter than snow;
tidings send me of good news and rejoicing,
and the body that lies in the dust shall thrill with pride.


Purify me, O Lord - create a clean heart in me.  Renew a steadfast spirit in me. 
This is my prayer.  This is my desire: to be with the Lord for all eternity.

The Art of the Heavy Rosary

I don't usually come down with illness very often, but when I do I get pretty sick.  So nearly two weeks ago when I began to feel poorly, knowing I had to go off-island to get my windshield-wipers fixed (it is a requirement to have working wipers in the Pacific NW during the rainy season), I just buckled down and focused on getting through whatever I needed to get through.  Well by the time I got back home, I was down for the count for a few days.  Then last Tuesday I suddenly felt better, but remained tired.  I'm still easily fatigued, physically and emotionally, hoping that this will pass soon and I can get back to my usual crazy schedule. 

My prayer life has suffered these past two weeks, and I am easily distracted, unfocused and don't "feel God's Presence" (sorry, I had to :-)!!).  But what I do "feel" is only what I can describe as a heavy weight and sadness that I somehow know is not my own.  I didn't realize it until this morning, since my usual routine is to pray for specific people and their intentions during my Rosary - but for the past few days as I have sat and asked/thought/prayed for what or whom I should pray, what has come to mind is not a single person or a single problem.  What has come to mind is the totality of the world and its slow loss of knowing what is True and right and good - the loss of Faith - the loss of Joy.  I have no idea how to pray for all of this, have difficulty verbalizing what it is I feel, so I just sit and let the heaviness that I feel descend to the Rosary in my hands.  On my own I cannot take this weight, but these small beads, this fragile chain, can.  But it sure makes for a heavy Rosary!! 

I am reminded of Romans 8:26-27  "In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.  And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will." 

I am also reminded of last May when I attempted to gather people together for group praying of the Rosary, and no one showed up (throughout the month, only 1 person came - once).  I sat there that first morning, weeping, and all I could think to do was apologize to Mary and Jesus for the "lack of"...could no one spare 30 minutes to pray?  The feeling I have now is quite similar to the one I had then.  It is what it is.  And all I can do is continue to pray and keep my focus on our Lord and the Cross.  Even though many days it is quite challenging, and that cross is difficult to pick up in its heaviness - though once I remember to look at Jesus, it becomes lighter and easier to carry...I just wish I could remember to look up more often! 

Year of Faith Cont: Make Sunday Mass a Priority

Now that I'm feeling mostly better, I shall continue my comments on Fr P's three suggestions for this Year of Faith.  And it is one with which I agree:  make Sunday Mass a priority.  I do.  The first thing I do when planning a trip that involves a Sunday is to check around for Catholic Churches...and if my older son is with me (or if he is on a trip with his Dad), I am then increasing the level of difficulty by needing to find a Mass with confession prior.  Why is that so hard to find?  Very few parishes offer this.  The last time my son was off without me, I made arrangements for him to have confession before Mass.  I think most priests will accommodate this if asked, but I wonder how many people will actually ask?  But Sunday Mass -yes!  Make it a priority.  It should be the first thing for that day - all other activities must take second fiddle to the one primary "activity" for Sunday (or Saturday anticipatory).  Our island parish only offers one Mass each Sunday, at 1pm.  Many people complain it is inconvenient - so they don't come.  All I have to say to that is then it must not be very important to them - then I suppose the next question is how do we make it important to them?  How do we get people to understand WHY God should be first in their lives?  How do we get people to look at us, look at us knowing we are Catholic, and have them wonder what it is we have that makes us so joyous?  And then leave them wanting to have what we have - to desire that which we desire.  To think:  I want what they have...and to somehow give them the impetus to enter those doors and simultaneously open the doors to their hearts.  Well, that's another blog post :-)!!

But back to Fr P's suggestions.  He also stated that we should stay at our Parish (territorial), even if the priest was a heretic, the singing was atrocious, etc...  At one level, I agree - Christ is present, the Mass is valid, Jesus is fully present in the Eucharist; we should stay and effect change from the inside.  Sure.  Sounds good.  But what if what used to be the favorite part of your week is now something you almost dread?  What if your love of the Liturgy causes you to cry every time you step into this particular parish church for Mass?  What if you have children who begin to parrot back the incorrect/incomplete theology the parish priest preaches?  Luckily my older son is old enough to discuss these things, and my younger son is too young to really pay that much attention.  With children involved, it changes the dynamics a bit.  Much prayer, and thought, have gone into my decision to go to another parish.  I realize that I feel too new, too unsure of myself - that I just don't have the strength to stay here and battle.  Another time, sure, but not now.  I need to be nurtured in my faith, to be helped along.  And when I get that, you know what?  I AM able to participate in Mass at my territorial parish - even with "Gather Us In" or "Abba, Father" being sung; even with questionable theology spouting from the priest's mouth; even when we are usually the only family kneeling - not holding hands - kneeling for communion - staying afterward to pray...if I can nurture my faith elsewhere, at parishes where the Liturgy is loved, respected and cared for, then I find I do have more strength and I'm sure that one day I will have gathered enough strength to try to make changes here.  But now, right now, I just can't...even though it means I travel approximately 3 hours one way to the next nearest Parish.  It is worth it.  I am fed - and from that nourishment I can begin to give back, to teach, to "fight the good fight."

Go to Mass!  Go to confession!  You'll be amazed at what transpires in your life if you consent to making these a priority.