The first is the Easter egg. These eggs symbolize eternal life — our new life in the risen Christ. In Russia, dyed and decorated eggs are blessed by the priest and treated as sacramentals. They are among the first foods eaten to break the Lenten fast. And it is likely that this somewhat religious use of eggs at Easter is how we Americans came to dye eggs and associate them with the Easter bunny for our children. It is said that even prior to Christianity, eggs symbolized long or eternal life. Sharing the dying and decorating of Easter eggs with children is common now in our country. But wouldn’t it be lovely to have a few eggs which are decorated with a symbol like the cross or a lamb? The children could take the selected eggs to ask for his blessing of these as a first-food to be eaten on Easter morning.

Now – the next area is one that has many spellings and variations as a part of Easter custom and usage. Spellings include Kulich, Koolitch, Kulick, etc. This is another food used by Europeans to break the Easter fast. And thus is the reason for this Catholic Mom column — to suggest that you might consider a new custom — a new way for your family to celebrate the resurrection of Christ — and the symbolic end of your Lenten fast.

So what, pray tell is Kulick? Kulick is a sweet bread that symbolizes Christ – the bread of life. In our tourist town back in Colorado, a lady who had been in the Madonna House community more than 20 years introduced us to the custom and the symbolic loveliness of this Easter bread. Her name is Lucille and she would go from home to home to home delivering one pound coffee-can sized containers of Kulick and smaller jars of Paska.

Paska is rich sweet spreadable mixture of butter, sugar, eggs, cheese or cottage cheese and raisins. It is always a treat – a delight to slice this tender Easter bread and to spread a significant enough quantity of the sweet Paska on it.

Oh — before I forget — a baking tip: I mentioned that Lucille made and brought these loaves of bread as an Easter symbol and gift. At first, I thought the shape to be somewhat odd. Like many bakers, Lucille Many cooks bake the bread in something like a one pound coffee can. The bread is baked in such a way that the top of the baked bread spreads out of the coffee can and becomes mushroom shaped on top. This unique appearance is meant to symbolize Christ breaking forth from the tomb…. or fresh flowers pushing up from their ‘death’ in the ground.

Now if you are inclined to want to try this in your house — and you are ambitious, let me share this. Two tall kulick loaves are traditionally baked to symbolize Christ and His Church. Twelve smaller loaves can be baked to represent the apostles. And if you make this for use at home — say for your own Easter gathering festivities — surround the Easter table with daffodils or other festive spring flowers.

And you may know the customary greeting at this time of year: one person announces “Christ is Risen.” To which the other person replies, “Truly He is risen!”

To dear Lisa and her family — and to all the Catholic Mom family — a holy and happy Easter.

Deacon Tom

Easter Kulick With Paska Recipe

Ingredients

BREAD
2 pkg Active Dry Yeast
1/2 c Warm Water
1/2 c Warm Milk
1/2 c Sugar
1 tsp Salt (opt)
2 Eggs
1/2 c Shortening
6 Flour
1/2 c Raisins
1/4 c Blanched Almonds, chopped
1/2 tsp Vanilla

FROSTING
1/2 c Powdered Sugar
1 1/2 tsp Warm Water
1/2 tsp Grated Lemon Peel
1/2 tsp Lemon Juice

PASKA
1/4 lb Sweet Butter, unsalted
1/2 lb Powdered Sugar
4 Egg Yolks
3 lb Farmer Cheese. (Another variation is cottage cheese and you can find that recipe as well)
1/4 lb Raisins
1/2 lb Nuts, chopped
1 tsp Vanilla
1/2 pt Cream
2 c Cherries, chopped

Directions

Bread
Dissolve yeast in warm water. Stir in milk, sugar, eggs, shortening, 2/ cups flour, raisins, almonds and vanilla. Beat until smooth with electric mixer. Mix in enough flour remaining flour to make dough easy to handle. Turn out on a lightly floured board and knead adding remaining flour until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. Cover with saran wrap and let rest 20 minutes. Divide in half and let rise about 1/ hours until double. Place each half in a well greased 1-lb coffee can. Let rise to top of cans (about 40 minutes). Preheat oven to 375oF. Bake 40-45 minutes or until brown. Remove and drizzle with frosting mixture while still warm and serve with Paska.

Frosting
Mix all ingredients together.

Paska
Mix the butter and sugar together until smooth. Add remaining ingredients, mixing well. Put in a cheese cloth to drain out liquid (about 3 hours), using a weight. Remove from cloth and refrigerate.

Copyright 2010 Deacon Tom Fox

I suddenly felt the anxiety some of the children were likely feeling. When Father was talking to them, I felt God was using his words to speak to me as well. He reminded us that there aren’t many sins they haven’t heard before. It’s better to confess them and feel the peace of God’s forgiveness. So I got in line and waited. When it came time to confess my sins, I took a deep breath and let it all out.

Then something amazing happened. As the words left my mouth my soul felt like a large stone wall had exploded. Father gave me absolution for my sin and I felt free. I was sure my soul was so lightened that I could have easily floated away. I often don’t get emotional after confession, but this time I did. It was worth it to humble myself in order to gain absolution.

This Lent, make it a point to go to confession. Go even if you go every month.  And go especially if you haven’t gone in years. Take advantage of this grace God has waiting for you. It’s His gift custom designed just for you. The minute the words leave your mouth you will feel much better.  When your priests urge you to take time out to go to confession more, listen to them. They are leading you to a deeper spiritual life. Why not start now – in this season of Lent? It is the perfect opportunity – we just have to grab it.

Copyright 2010 Jennifer Gladen

I’m pretty sure that’s not how Mary said Yes.  At first, I thought maybe it was, that maybe she, like me, smiled and said Yes to God before she really thought about what that Yes would entail. 

“Yes, sure,” I imagine her replying to Gabriel, “I’ll give this Mother of God gig a whirl.  When do we start?” 

What’s false about that image of Mary’s Yes is that it brings her down to my level.  Often, that’s just what I need, to pull my idea of her off the pedestal of dogmas and get it down to my eye level.  In this case, however, I’m not representing her accurately. 

Mary embraced her vocation and encourages each of us to do the same.  Instead of a lukewarm affirmative, she very possibly danced and laughed out loud as she said YES!  I don’t think she hesitated, because in that I think there would have to be doubt. 

If anything, Mary’s Yes shows complete trust in God and teaches me what that means for my life. 

Mary was more responsible in her Yes than I often am in mine.  She would have been well-versed enough to know that the Messiah would be the man of sorrows.  If she wasn’t sure, surely Simeon’s words at the Presentation gave her a bit of a forewarning. 

All the same, she continued to say Yes.  God asked, she replied. 

Don’t you love people you can count on?  Don’t you find yourself inspired by their generosity and willingness? 

God does too, and He gives us Mary’s Yes as the standard to use for our own decisions.  I think of it as a Yes Factor. 

There are three aspects to my Yes Factor which I try to use to be more like Mary when I say Yes. 

Will I grow closer to God by saying Yes? God doesn’t ask us to say Yes to things that take us away from Him.  Sometimes, though, His idea of “growing closer” is a bit different than mine.  There are times when I wish I didn’t have so much “help” with the dishes, because if they were done, I could do something else.  But I can grow closer to God thanks to that small person helping if I take a different view and open myself to an ongoing Yes, as Mary did throughout her life. 

Am I certain about this Yes? Sometimes I won’t be, and that’s OK.  In fact, for me, sometimes that immediate certainty is a red flag, a sign of brashness.  Most of the time, though, I can tell, with a little time, based on the level of peace I have about saying Yes.  It might be an impossible task or an insurmountable challenge, but saying Yes will be the way God carries me through it, which leads me to…

Have I prayed about saying Yes? In some images of the Annunciation, Mary is shown praying.  We should all be inspired by that and learn a lesson from it.  Yes is not to be said lightly, and whether it’s Yes to new tires or Yes to a new job, God’s open to our conversation.  In fact, He wants it.  I try to remember the little things right along with the big things, to talk to God throughout the day as I make the decisions that seem unimportant as well as those that are life-altering.

 
What does your Yes Factor look like?  How can you make those three letters be a chance to grow to be more like Mother Mary?

Copyright 2010 Sarah Reinhard

Benedict XVI is on the right track when he speaks about the need for missionary activities within the Church. However, the need of missionary activities really doesn’t go far from the front doors of your local parish. There are lots of opportunities to spread the Gospel message and modern missionaries don’t even need to leave home. Throughout the United States other denominations are actively evangelizing and recruiting Catholics to join their ranks. Perhaps there are many causes for this, the decline of the Catholic educational system, the lack of priestly and religious vocations and even the structural changes of the family. Regardless of cause, the ranks of Catholic churches are dwindling because of multiple reasons, but mainly age, apathy and ignorance of Church teachings are the top three. When I attend Mass there are times that I am the youngest person in the pew. I’m 49. Where are all of the people younger than myself? It seems that the evangelization efforts of the past twenty-five years have been terribly unsuccessful in promoting the faith among each other. While we were teaching children and parishioners about the mystery and allure of foreign missions, no one was planting the seeds of domestic evangelization. While admirable, Operation Rice Bowl neglected the largest mission of all…our own domestic Church. Over the years we have spent a considerable amount of time, prayer and effort to bring the Gospel message to what we used to consider, “pagan cultures.” While we were out evangelizing the rest of the world, Catholics at home stopped going to church, married outside of the faith, raised their children as secular humanists and most critically ceased to support the development of Catholic education. In the past thirty-five to forty years the Catholic Church in the United States has watched the largest disintegration of its educational system ever seen in history. Ironically in the previous century, it was perhaps the largest source of Catholic educational growth since the Dark Ages. What has gone wrong in the course of just one hundred years? Well for one thing it appears that we have stopped being a “Catholic” Church and have tried too hard to be an “inclusive” and “nondenominational” brand of nemo identification. We have moved our altars, whitewashed our artistically intricate ceilings, wet our incense and charcoal, provided business to polyester merchants and alienated quality liturgy in return for quantity of unfulfilled and unresponsive believers. It used to be quite clear; our beliefs were rooted in the teachings of the Apostles, who witnessed themselves Jesus Christ. Now a days if you were to ask ten Catholics to name the signs of the Catholic Church, you would most likely get the names of street signs in return(for the record, the four signs of the Church are one, holy, catholic and apostolic.). Why have we gotten so far off the mark in practicing our Catholic faith? Was the allure of the Reformation so provocative that we had to follow the theological inconsistencies of the Reformers and baptize their erroneous teachings? Fascinating…that when you speak to most Catholics about their belief in Church teachings they always conclude with the qualification…”Well, for me personally!” That is precisely the type of evangelization we need. There is no “personally” in the effective understanding and exercise of Roman Catholicism. You are either in or you are out. When it comes to a revitalization of missionary activities, the first precept should be clear…to be Catholic is not like flavor choices at Baskin Robbins! Next when we get back to the real matter at hand our bishops need to clearly state that the Catechism of the Catholic Church does not offer a series of multiple choice dogmatic beliefs, nor are the principles of Catholicism, “true” or “false”. Finally the test of living the Catholic lifestyle does not require a “Number 2” pencil!  Frequently you hear a lot about the debate over the issue of the Tridentine Mass and its possible return. Perhaps that is precisely what we all need. The return to a clear, consistent liturgy that incorporates all of our traditional deposit of beliefs. Maybe the time is right for Catholics throughout the world to put the Andrew Lloyd Weber version of the Mass out of business, and get back to , “I go onto the altar of God”, and put all of the leotard clad, frustrated clerics out of business. We don’t need to be missionaries out there. We need missionaries in here. Not to proclaim the message of the Gospel to a “pagan world”, but to a “pagan Church” that has neglected to recall our theological roots and traditions. Quite honestly there is a Renaissance movement growing in the Church and it is not based on new ideals or concepts. The movement is based on a rebirth and reappreciation of what we have thoughtlessly repressed, rescinded and repealed since Vatican II. That is a deeper understanding of our sacramental mysteries as we journey along the missionary path to Jesus Christ. Missionary activities are extremely valuable, but we cannot begin to evangelize until we interiorize our own mystical identity a Catholics and followers of Christ Jesus.

Copyright 2010 Hugh McNichol

He then points to the altar and says again, “God’s here, where’s Jesus”. A huge light bulb went off suddenly and I began to smile from ear to ear. For Easter Mass, our pastor said Mass alone. There wasn’t a deacon by his side. Our sweet son was thinking the priest was God and the missing deacon was Jesus.

It’s those little moments you will cherish forever.

Copyright 2010 Lisa Jones

I was reading a Via Crucis written by JPII recently.  For the Station, “Simon Helps Jesus Carry His Cross” he mentions that Simon was closer to Jesus than anyone on the Way of the Cross.  Think about that: this random passerby is forced under fear of death to help carry Jesus’ cross, and he is closer to Christ than His own mother or beloved disciple.  He didn’t choose to help Jesus out of compassion, as Veronica did.  He didn’t weep for Jesus as the women of Jerusalem did.  He was just walking along minding his own business and suddenly he finds himself front and center on the stage of human history.  In Mel Gibson’s interpretation of the scene, he makes it very clear that this is not something he chose, and that he is an innocent man, forced to carry the cross of one who is condemned.

What implications for all of us who suffer!  No one wakes up one day and thinks, “Hmm. Maybe today I’ll be in a car accident that will leave me paralyzed.”  No one goes in for that exciting first peek at baby and expects to get a fatal diagnosis.  These are things that strike us out of the blue.  And they hurt like hell.  And we do not choose them.  Yet we are closer in these moments to the Lord than we can ever imagine. Closer, maybe even, than the blue-haired lady in the Rosary group.

I would guess Simon, shouldering the burden, at first was repulsed by Jesus if he noticed Him at all.  Isaiah’s description of Jesus, after all, is that He was beyond all semblance of a man.  Should this not be all of our first tastes of suffering? It entered the world through evil, and therefore should disgust us.  But the fact that Simon and his sons are called by name in Scripture, as well as their place of origin, suggests that the Christian disciples receiving the Gospels would have known who he was.  Which suggests that this encounter with the bloodied, beaten Savior changed Simon.  Again, Gibson’s portrayal of this is very moving.  At a certain point, he begins to shoulder the burden not out of duty but compassion.  Later, as he leaves Jesus at Golgotha, there is something within him that registers: it was really Jesus shouldering  burden.

This is a blueprint for us in our suffering.  Let us behold in our desperate situations the Savior who understands them deeply because He has experienced them.  And let’s not turn away, but instead allow our closeness to Him transform us- not necessarily by changing the circumstance, but by changing our own hearts. 

Copyright 2010 Libby DuPont

“It’s touted as an easy way to get more fresh produce into your diet—the idea being that you’ll consume more vegetables and fruits if you don’t have to actually chew them. Even if you’re not too lazy to masticate, maybe you want help consuming a greater volume of antioxidants, phytonutrients and enzymes from vegetables and fruits.”

Click the link above to read the whole post.

First of all, just the THOUGHT of Jesus and Mary attending the wedding of friends…celebrating, laughing, dancing, feasting…makes you smile just thinking of it doesn’t it?

Then, to consider this humble maiden, MOTHER OF GOD, who is about to CALL HER SON OUT BEFORE THE PEOPLE AND REVEAL TO THE WORLD WHO HE IS…well, that one just gives me goose bumps.
The beauty of it, for me, is in the fact that God often uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things.
He’s GOD! He could have revealed the son to the world in ANY way He chose…but He does it through His faithful handmaid…MARY…He entrusts her yet again…with a new and awesome mission…”Presenting the FIRST PUBLIC MIRACLE OF THE SAVIOR!”

As our thoughts travel through this ancient scene, we come next to JESUS, THE CHRIST, THE LORD OF ALL…and the SON of this mother who has just made a secretly HUGE request of Him….and what does He do? He tells her, “Woman, my time has not yet come”. It seems at that point, that Jesus has no intention on revealing His Divinity at this wedding…

And yet…His mother presses on. She looks toward the men and CONFIDENTLY SUGGESTS, “Do whatever He tells you”! THIS IS HER MESSAGE TO THE ENTIRE WORLD! THIS IS HER MESSAGE TO US: “DO WHATEVER HE TELLS US”!!!!!!

This leads us to that, which for me, is the most beautiful part of the story. JESUS’ heart is moved. He appreciates His mother’s position and her plea. He FEELS for the young couple, who are about to be embarrassed at having run out of wine for their guests…JESUS CARES. JESUS HONORS HIS MOTHER.
JESUS IS GENEROUS AND KIND.

We all know what happens after that. The people exclaim and praise the bridegroom saying that he saved his BEST wine for last! (It was custom in those days to serve the BEST wine first and the cheaper wine later in the celebration, when guests had already had their fill and therefore would not notice that the quality had diminished)

Not only does this Gospel show us CHRIST’S DIVINITY; it shows us HIS COMPASSION. He doesn’t wish to disappoint His mother…He doesn’t wish His friends to be embarrassed…He doesn’t wish to disappoint the guests…and so He allows the crowd to SEE HIM FOR WHO HE IS by changing WATER into WINE before their very eyes!

Sometimes, non-Catholics have questions or concerns about the honor and veneration that Catholics give to Mary, the Mother of Jesus. I like to use THIS story to illustrate just how much JESUS thought of this woman…

It is why I have no trouble honoring her in a special and unique way. For it seems that JESUS did the same!



Copyright 2010 Judy Dudich

“… you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”  Luke 15: 31.

For as long as I can remember I have loved the story of the Prodigal Son.  Depending on the year or the time in my life I could place myself in the position of either one of the sons.  I could lament along with the son who remained with the Father and ask ‘how come?’  when good things seem to happen to bad people.   Or I could be one of the ‘bad people’ begging forgiveness when realizing all my actions had dishonored God along with myself and just wanting to be forgiven and allowed to come home again.

I never saw myself in the role of the father in the story until I became a mother.  The story was meant to reflect God’s love for all His Children.  I began understanding God’s love more when I became a mother than I ever experienced before I had children.  I understand God’s frustration, God’s anger and hurt as He watches His children do things that will violate their gift of life and I also understand God’s dreams that He holds for all His children.   I have written in the past about such matters.  Especially when it comes to war and how people actually believe God wants to pit His children against each other.  What mother would be so easily persuaded to have one of her children kill another one of her children?  She would want peace, understanding and justice and certainly not violence that would destroy the lives she brought to this world.  Moms who truly love their children want their children to love each other.  Isn’t that what God wants of all His children?

I have a son who has pulled away from the family.  The reasons and rationale I cannot understand and it hurts.   I have six children and I love all of them in ways they probably don’t understand.    But the reality is that I love them all.  This past Christmas this son stopped by on Christmas Eve and my heart was over-flowed with joy.  It had been a long time since I had seen or heard from him. My heart was full of joy before he walked in the door but seeing him, having him home stirred my joy to beyond the boundaries of my heart.  Pictures were taken with all of us together.  Then he left and I have yet to see or hear from him again.

My excitement to see my son I’m sure was noticed by the other children; the children who have always been with me, remaining at my side through visits and phone calls.  They know of my thoughts when I mention his name.  They know my door is always open for him to return.  Did they wonder why I didn’t yell at my son for being gone?  Did they think I love him more than them because I was more excited to see him walk in the door than when I saw them walk through the door?   Do they wonder why I still look for him to walk through the door when I have them walk through the door all the time?

This morning as I thought about it I realize that when I have all my children with me I’m complete.  Is that what the father of the prodigal son was trying to convey to the son who always was with him – that his heart is full with his love of the son he has with him every day but there is always an empty space that is left with a yearning for the son who isn’t around.  It becomes filled and complete when both sons come together to be with their father as one.

God didn’t need to create any of us to be complete.  God created all of us because He wanted us and in so doing I think He opened himself up to feel less complete.  Perhaps this is not a theological concept accepted by the Church or any religious leader but I’m not a theologian or a religious leader.  I’m a mother who has a little insight into what it must feel like for God to watch His children walk away and wish so hard that they would return back to Him; a God who wants only goodness and love to prevail and yet still love all His children no matter what they choose to do.  The door remains open – always.  Dear God the Father, I understand.

Copyright 2010  Susan Handle Terbay

Pointing to the nearly one-third of U.S. children who are either obese or overweight, the administration will pursue a legislative agenda to support its efforts, expanding the federal school-lunch program by $10 billion over 10 years and spending $400 million to bring grocery stores to so-called food deserts, urban and rural areas without adequate food stores.

So I guess this means we’ll now own the corner groceries, right next to our federally owned and operated car dealerships.

Mrs. Obama comes at the issue as a mother. In interviews, she says her pediatrician pulled her aside and encouraged her to improve her family’s health status by initiating portion control, eliminating high-calorie convenience foods and sugary drinks, and getting her daughters moving with more exercise and less TV time.

She listened to her children’s doctor, and her daughters are healthier for it.

Now, the Obamas have committed themselves to eliminating not only the possibility that their daughters might be overweight, but also the entire nation’s childhood obesity health crisis, in the span of one generation.

No one can argue that this would be a good thing, as obesity is almost entirely preventable and contributes to some of the costliest maladies burdening our health care system.

Yet at the same time, Mrs. Obama’s “Let’s Move” initiative was announced, researchers at Ohio State University released a study that shows three factors most effectively reduce the risk of childhood obesity: eating family meals together several times per week, getting adequate sleep and limiting TV time.

Notably, these highly effective, risk-reducing solutions aren’t likely to be influenced by a multibillion-dollar federal government “investment.” In fact, they rely on exactly the tactics Mrs. Obama used — greater parental supervision and more healthful decision-making for one’s own children.

Good intentions aside, a presidential task force isn’t going to do what millions of American parents already don’t do — namely, pull the plug on the 68 percent of kids with televisions in their bedrooms, or on the average 53 hours per week that “Generations M’s” (8-to-18-year-olds) spend engaged with electronic media.

Nor will the task force change the way most families eat. For decades, our federal government already has offered far-reaching programs for nutrition promotion, food subsidies and disease prevention, and as Mrs. Obama points out, these problems are not going away.

On the other hand, we now have an abundance of government Web sites representing the growing nanny state for personal lifestyle support.

It’s worth a tour of the “.gov” cybersphere to see just how involved our federal bureaucracy is in our daily lives. The subject of nutrition alone already enjoys millions of dollars in government Internet attention — never mind the countless publications, pamphlets and educational programs.

In addition to Mrs. Obama’s new LetsMove.gov Web site, we can learn what and how to eat at teamnutrition.usda.gov, mypyramid.gov (another USDA site), healthymeals.nal.usda.gov (yet another USDA site), nifa.usda.gov (the National Institute of Food and Agriculture/Families, Youth and Communities), cnpp.usda.gov (Center for Nutrition Policy and Promotion), and USDA’s Food and Nutrition service at fns.usda.gov, among others.

Clearly, there is nothing about eating that the U.S. government isn’t already telling us, so maybe that’s not the problem.

Mrs. Obama is a concerned mother, and she sets a strong example for those who ought to implement many of her proven and effective parenting strategies. I applaud the use of her platform to urge Americans to face the childhood-obesity issue as a way to do a better job of parenting, period.

That’s because it’s not only an obesity crisis we face; it’s a parenting crisis and a crisis of adulthood that has convinced too many Americans that our federal bureaucracy has an appropriate role in teaching us not just how to eat, but how to live.

Copyright 2010 Marybeth Hicks

By the time I got to the halfway mark, however, my thoughts had turned sour.  My chest tightened as my lungs cried out in anguish with each erratic breath and I began to wonder if my feet were still attached to my burning legs.  The clear blue sky gave me no hope of a sudden tornado or lightning storm to whisk me away from my misery.  I pathetically kept trudging along, feeling like my shins would rip apart any minute.  I yearned to drop to the ground and crawl into a ditch somewhere until after the medals were passed out and everyone had packed up and gone home.

In much the same way, the Lenten journey starts off with a bang of grand resolutions and lively hopes. However, by this time many are ready to curl up in front of the tube with a bowl of triple-scooped chocolate ice cream and turn away from any type of soul-stretching activity. For those who suffer from seasonal mid-Lenten blues, a quick splash of water and a reflection on Jesus’ own trek to the Cross can offer a quick remedy. The Stations of the Cross presents us with a simple fourteen-step guide through Lent.

1. The first station: Jesus is condemned to death. Examine your conscience and recognize you are guilty of sin and in need of God’s grace and mercy.

2. Jesus carries his cross. Receive your cross and commit yourself to stay the course of purification.   If you haven’t even made it to the start line, Lent isn’t over yet!

3. Jesus falls the first time. Allow yourself to be humbled. “The beginning of pride is man’s stubbornness in withdrawing his heart from his Maker.” (Sirach 10:12)

4. Jesus meets His Mother. Mary carried Jesus deep inside of her for nine months and then followed Him through His Passion.  Go to Mary to find Jesus.  Ask her to help you on your path of redemption.

5. Simon of Cyrene carries the cross. Partner up. Whether it is with your spouse, a close friend, or a spiritual director or confessor, find someone who can keep you accountable to your Lenten goals.

6. Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. Review your goals and focus and then make any necessary adjustments. Are they pulling you deeper into God’s Love? What mark will this Lent leave on your soul?

7. Jesus falls the second time. Let yourself be thrown off your horse.  Are you giving your all or could you do more? “For pride is the reservoir of sin, a source which runs over with vice.”  (Sirach 10:13)

8. Jesus meets the daughters of Jerusalem. Offer peace and seek fellowship.  How can you bring comfort to those around you who are in pain or affliction? Read about the lives of the women Saints and of the Women of the Bible.  Join a women’s bible study or prayer group to strengthen each other.  “For wherever two or three are gathered together, there I am in their midst.” (Matthew 18:20)

9. Jesus falls the third time. Let God break you. Toss out feelings of self-righteousness. Deny yourself, pick up your cross, and keep moving.  You are almost there. “The roots of the proud God plucks up, to plant the humble in their place; He breaks down their stem to the level of the ground, then digs their roots from the earth.” (Sirach 10:15,16)

10. Jesus is stripped of His garments. Strip yourself of unnecessary or harmful attachments or habits.

11. Crucifixion: Jesus is nailed to the cross. Attach yourself to that which is Holy and pleasing to God.  Unite your heavy soul to the cross of Jesus.

12. Jesus dies on the cross. Give of yourself and your Lent completely into “His Hands”.

13. Jesus’ body is removed from the cross. Empty, go to confession and remove yourself from sin.

14. Jesus is laid in the tomb and covered in incense. Let your body rest and be healed through your penance. Think about where you started and how far you’ve come.  Find strength and rest in Jesus through prayer and adoration.  Be peaceful and know that you have “Run the good race, and fought the good fight.”

Copyright 2010 Erika Marie

Perhaps as Catholic’s we are used to the portrayal of angels in light of events such as the Annunciation, or the Incarnation, or even the prophetic images of the Book of Revelation when angels of the Lord are portrayed as “heavenly- heavies”  in bring the eschatological plan of Creation to it’s logical end. But really, we shortchange the nature of angels and we diminish their critically important work in our world when we are taken in with images of angels as corporeal perfect beings that float around on Charmin all day and wait for the next expectant soul to reach the heavenly gates. Angels are hard working day to day participants in God’s unfolding plan of the mystery of salvation. They get into the earthly trenches right there with mankind and participate as our allies against the evil Dominions that might attempt to lead us from the truly Sacramental direction of the Catholic life. They are also present not only in extraordinary events in our lives, but they are there to provide fortitude and counsel at every pivotal moment we have in our earthly journey towards eternal life. I have a special affinity towards angels, of all denominations, whether they are Thrones, Dominions, Angels, Archangels, Cherubim and Seraphim and so on…they are all critically important in helping us understand the Divine Messages they are entrusted to convey. So rather than think of angels in the sense of billowy, suave creatures with golden hair and white wings and a penchant for cream cheese, think of them as our constant companions that journey with us through life, trying to provide tutorial information on how we can better understand the nature and being of the Boss…God, the Big Guy!

Remember, they are always here in a subtly gentle manner, as in a breeze, to bring God to the World, and they expect us each individual to bring that same message to others in a world that is seeking peaceful resolution to chaos and Divine guidance in a world that is sometimes filled with fragile moments of peace and often broken promises. Angels are not there as theatrical entertainment, but rather as active participants in the revelation of God’s eternal Being.

Copyright 2010 Hugh McNichol

We came home to no power. Funny all that we take for granted, isn’t it? No lights, heat, water, Internet. Couldn’t do much that I’d planned to do. But an option presented itself: three of my four sons were home together waiting to drive up to Cleveland to watch the Cavaliers play the Celtics. Big game and all were excited. Goofy, in fact. Puffing up their macho-ness against one another in a playful fashion. Who could lift whom up in the air? Who was stronger? Lots of sparring. Our boys became my husband’s and my entertainment. That hasn’t happened in ages, and it was very fun. It never would have happened had our power been on after church. Just as one blessing was taken away another was given.

Nobody likes it when something is taken away from us, be it our electricity, our sight, our job, our child. All sorts of horrible things happen in the world that we will never understand. I don’t think we are supposed to understand. But these misfortunes and tragedies have a way of pulling us off our chartered course onto a different path – the path onto which God places us for reasons perhaps known only to Him.

We must have faith. Without faith life is a series of mishaps with no purpose. We must believe and trust God to take care of us. When He shuts the door we must set our sights on the window trusting that God will open it. Faith comes first. Then God acts.

Copyright 2010 Maureen Locher

Last week, we shared Chapter Three of the terrific novel, Through the Open Window by talented novelist Anne Faye. Join us each Monday as we watch this incredible story unfold.

• Chapter Four
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Two
• Chapter One

Chapter 5

The sun streaming through my windows woke me up Sunday morning. It looked like it was going to be another warm day. That would be good for the party. I spent the morning doing some housework, and then Lady and I headed out for our morning constitutional. When we got back, it was time for me to get ready for the party.  I looked up the address on the internet. Mike lived pretty close to Forest Park. I was known for getting lost when attempting to find new places, but I figured that I should be able to find his house without too much difficulty. I showered and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and put on some earrings and makeup.

“What do you think, Lady?” I asked the only observer in the room. She cocked her head to the side and looked at me with her big brown eyes. “Yeah,” I sighed, “That’s what I thought, too.” I patted her soft head. “Oh, well, it is better than the sweats I had on yesterday. It will have to do.” I gave Lady some chewy treats. “I’ll be home later. You be good.” I grabbed my keys and headed out, wondering where this day would take me. It wasn’t that I necessarily found a group of six and seven year old boys intimidating. After all, I worked with children every day. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of my role in this day. What was I supposed to do? I would have to just wait and see.

I turned off the main street and into a residential neighborhood. Mike lived in the historic district – a section of beautiful old Victorian homes. I had only seen the ones that were on the main road. I never realized how many more homes were set back on side streets. It was like entering a whole different world, taking a step back in time. Springfield was the first big city I had ever lived in. Coming from a small town, I suffered from culture shock when I first moved here. I was struck by the contradictions. Abject poverty and relative affluence lived nearly side by side. You could be driving through a fancy section and then find yourself someplace you wouldn’t want to be alone at night within a matter of minutes. It was just a matter of knowing where to go and where not to, and that took some time to figure out. Mike’s area was definitely one of the more privileged ones.

When I pulled up to his house, he was attaching balloons to the mailbox. His house was huge! It was three floors, with huge columns framing the entranceway. There was a fountain right in the middle of the street, surrounded by a garden! While I imagined it would be even prettier in spring, it was still breathtaking. Mike waved to me as I got out of the car.

“Hi, Lucy, I’m so glad that you came! A few of the guests have begun to arrive.”

I nodded, smiling. “This is some place you have here.”

“I told you!” he said. “I grew up here. The house has been in my family for almost a hundred years. My parents moved to South Carolina a few years ago and they left the house to me. When my sister’s ex-husband left her, she and the kids needed some place to stay so they moved in as well. I like it better that way. It was really way too big a house for just one person. Come on inside. I’ll introduce you to everyone and show you around the place.”

“Here. This is for Tommy,” I said, handing him the present I was carrying. “I hope he likes it.”

“I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything!”

“That’s OK. I wanted to.”

“Thanks. It was very thoughtful of you.”

We walked up the stairs and through the stately front door. There was a huge entryway complete with hanging chandelier and massive staircase with a gorgeous stained glass window at the landing. “This is amazing!” I said.

“You haven’t seen anything yet!” he responded. He led me to the right where there was a large living room with mahogany paneling. Our next stop was the dining room, followed by the den and the library. “I think the library is my favorite room so far,” I remarked.

“Yeah, mine, too, at least on this floor. My grandfather loved collecting books. All the classics are here. He had a number of first editions as well.”

I sank into a comfortable armchair and looked around at the bookcases full of books just begging to be read. “I could spend all day here,” I sighed.

“I know what you mean,” he agreed, “but right now we need to go find my sister and see what we can do to help. Come on,” he extended his hand to help me out of the chair. His hand was warm in mine – too warm. I let go quickly. “We’ll go to the kitchen,” he said nonchalantly, apparently oblivious to the sudden case of nerves I was now experiencing. “I’m sure we’ll find Sara there.” We headed out of the library and around the corner to where the kitchen was set in the back of the house.

“Mike, there you are!” a clearly frazzled woman greeted us. “I wondered where you disappeared to. All the kids are outside. Can you please go keep them entertained?” she pleaded.

“Sara, this is Lucy. Lucy, Sara.” Mike said as he headed out the back door.

“Hi!” Sara said.

“You look really busy. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, thank you,” she pushed some stray hairs from her face. “Could you please open up the chips and pretzel bags and put them in the bowls.”

“Sure.” I went to work. “Do you want me to bring them outside?”

“Yeah, that would be great. It turned out to be such a nice day; we decided to have the party outside. We’re usually not that lucky in November.”

I brought the chips and pretzels out to the picnic table. I stopped for a moment to watch Mike. He was running around the large backyard playing football with a whole gaggle of little kids. I think that it was all of the kids against him. At least it looked that way. They were all trying to tackle him. He appeared to be enjoying it.

I headed back in to help Sara. She had me bring out sodas and plates and cups and all the other party fixings. “Thanks for your help,” Sara said as she joined me outside. “These parties are a lot of work, but the boys enjoy them so much. I think we are all set, though, at least for the moment.” She noticed me watching Mike, “He’s great with the kids, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “They all seem to be having a great time.”

“I’m really lucky to have him as a brother. I don’t know if he told you or not, but I would be lost without him. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t taken me in after my husband left. He’s been so good with the boys.”

“Yes, Mike had mentioned that your husband had left you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s OK. It’s been a while now. I have the kids to take care of so I can’t really wallow in self-pity. I’m getting over it – trying to move on.”

“I know how that is,” I acknowledged.

“Mike told me you had recently moved here. From Vermont, was it?”

“Yes, northern Vermont.”

“Well, welcome to Western Massachusetts. I hope you like it here.”

“I do,” I nodded. “It’s really starting to feel like home.”

“Mike must like you a lot. He almost never brings a girl home.”

“Oh, we’re just friends. I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. Mike said that you could use another adult to help out.” I suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“No, no, not at all. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad that you’re here. I appreciate the help, believe me!” she smiled at me. I noticed that she had the same striking blue eyes as her brother. “Oh, look, there’s the pizza delivery truck coming up the driveway. Will you help me carry the pizzas over?”

“Sure. I’m right behind you.” The smell of pizza caused all the little boys (and the one big boy) to come running over. “Lucy, let me introduce you to the birthday boy. This is Tommy.” Mike rested his hands on the shoulders of a little blonde haired boy. “Tommy, this is my friend Lucy.”

“Hi, Tommy! Happy Birthday!” Tommy buried his head into Mike’s leg.

“He’s a little shy around strangers,” Mike said. “This is my other nephew Johnny,” he said. acknowledging another slightly bigger boy with brown hair and glasses. “Johnny, say hello.” Johnny waved as he starting eating his slice of pizza.

After pizza, it was time for presents. Tommy was clearly in his glory. He and his brother worked as a tag team, opening cards and taking the presents out of gift bags. Tommy was so excited! “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he said to everyone there. “I can’t wait to start looking through my cards to see which ones I got!”

Mike had moved over near me. “Wow, he really does love those cards, doesn’t he?” I said.

“I told you! That haul should keep him busy for quite a while.”

“He’s a cute kid. They both are.”

“They get that from me!”

“You have quite a high opinion of yourself,” I teased.

“Ouch!” he said, smirking. “I think I’ll go help Sara get the cake ready.” He turned and headed into the house, only to return a few seconds later with a cake with a lighted number six candle on it. He began singing “Happy Birthday!” and the rest of us all joined in.

“This cake is delicious, Sara, thank you!”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t make it, though. I took the easy way out and got it from the grocery store.”

“Well, it’s very yummy. I love cake and ice cream.”

“Me, too!” Sara said. “I fully intend to eat another piece tonight after the boys go to bed! You hear that, Mike? I’m claiming the leftovers.”

“Not if I get to them first!” Mike retorted.

“You guys sound like my brother and I, at least when we were younger!” I laughed.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Mike said.

“Yes, I do. His name is Bill. He’s older than me by a few years. He and his wife moved out to Arizona a couple years ago. I don’t get to see them much.”

“Well, Mike is my younger brother,” Sara retorted, “and as much as he hates to admit it, I can still boss him around!”

“I just let her think that!” Mike responded with a twinkle in his eye.

Parents started arriving to pick up the party guests, and soon the party was over. Johnny and Tommy retreated to the den to check out all the new presents while Mike, Sara, and I handled cleanup. After everything was picked up, Mike invited me to check out the rest of the house.

“Come on, I’ll show you the part of the house I live in,” he said. “We can take the back staircase.”

“You mean you don’t live down here?” I asked as we climbed the narrow stairs.

“Well, I do, but I mostly leave it to Sara and the boys. I have an apartment upstairs. I converted what would have been the servants’ quarters into a space I can relax and work in.”

“Did your family ever actually have servants?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I think my great-grandparents might have, but none that I remembered. We had free reign of the whole house when I was growing up. It was a house you could have adventures in! The boys have a good time exploring it now. They just know to stay out of my studio if I’m working.”

We stopped on the second floor. “This is where Sara and the boys sleep. There is also a second kitchen on this floor. I sometimes sneak down here in the middle of the night for a snack, especially if I’m working on a project and need some fuel,” he paused. “One more flight of stairs to go.”

“Welcome to my attic paradise!” he exclaimed as we got to the third floor.

“This is beautiful! Look at those windows!” There were three huge arched windows that allowed the attic to be bathed with light. It was a mostly wide open space with one corner used as a bedroom. The bed had not been made and was covered with clothes. Another corner was used as an office, and the rest of the room set up as an artist’s studio with works in progress all over the place. Up against the wall were some blank canvasses and shelves lined with paints and cans full of brushes.

“May I look at your paintings?” I asked.

“Sure. I’m just going to tidy up a bit,” he said as he moved in the direction of his bed. “I’m sorry – my room is a mess. You’ve probably noticed by now, I’m not a very neat person! I’m more of a clean-up-for-company sort of guy. I didn’t think I would be bringing you up here today. I thought for sure that Sara and the kids would scare you off!”

“Are you serious? They’re great. I like your sister a lot, and the boys are so cute. They couldn’t possibly scare me away!” I moved over toward the paintings. Mike’s art was full of vibrant colors. There were portraits and still-lifes and even a painting of a dog. The painting on the easel was of an old-fashioned city street. He had small photographs taped all around the easel.

“What are you working on here?” I asked.

“It is a painting of downtown Springfield about 100 years ago.” He finished making his bed and then joined me by the easel. “Look at these photographs. I made copies of them down at the history museum. Aren’t they amazing?”

“Yes, they are,” I agreed.

“It’s incredible to see how much life has changed in a century. Those people walking down the street in these pictures are just busy going about their daily lives. They couldn’t possibly have imagined the world we live in today. I can’t help but wonder how different the world will be in another 100 years.”

“It’s true. Life changes so quickly.” I pointed at the work of art. “ I love what you are doing with the painting. I like the bright colors you use. It makes all your paintings seem so warm and happy. All your work is great,” I added, looking around the room.

“Thanks!” He responded. “I hoped that you would like them.” Mike looked at me intently. Our eyes met. I walked away to go look out the window.

“This is quite a view you have here,” I said. From the window I could see all of their yard and most of the street. Some kids were riding their bikes.

“Yes, sometimes when I’m at a loss for inspiration, I just come here and stare out until something comes to me. It usually does. The natural light is great for painting by, as well,” he added.

I could feel his presence behind me. I had the sudden urge to turn around and kiss him. Where was this coming from? I’m not looking for romance. I’m not looking for romance. I kept repeating it over and over in my head. I forced myself to keep staring out the window. This whole male / female friendship thing was going to be much harder than I imagined.

“I was wondering if you would let me paint you?” he asked, breaking into my thoughts.

“Seriously?” I asked, shocked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather paint my dog? I’d be happy to bring her over for you. I’m sure that she would make a great model,” I suggested, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I’m sure that she would, but, no, I’d much rather paint you. Standing by the window like that with the light hitting you just so – you have a very interesting face.” Hmm. Interesting face. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Would you let me?”

“Oh sure, why not?” I responded, not at all sure. “What girl wouldn’t want to have her portrait painted?” What on earth was I doing?

“Great!” he smiled. Stay right there – right where you are. I just need to get a blank canvas.” I just kept looking out the window, not knowing what to make of the whole situation. The afternoon had just taken a very unexpected turn. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. I could hear Mike moving things around the room. He returned to the easel a couple minutes later and removed the street scene he had been working on. He placed the blank canvas on the easel, grabbed some tubes of paint and a couple of brushes, and then turned to me.

“Are you OK? You don’t look so good.” He looked worried.

“I’m fine,” I replied, not quite truthfully. “I’ve just never been in this situation before. I feel very self-conscious.”

“Do you want me to not do the painting? I don’t have to. I admit I get a bit carried away sometimes. I see something that I think would make a good painting and I feel compelled to get it down on canvas before it disappears.”

“I guess I understand that. It’s like with writing – when you have to get the idea out on paper.”

“Yes, exactly,” he nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” I smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’d like to take a couple photos if I could.” He held up a camera. The light will change quickly. I’m going to try to get a quick study done, but I’d like something to work from later.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He looked at me and the window, studying us both. It was strange how he looked at me. It was like he wasn’t even looking at me – he was looking through me – as if I wasn’t even there. “Here, try this.” He pulled over a chair. “Sit down. You’ll be more comfortable.” He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled down a book. “You can look at this if you’d like. It’ll make it easier to sit still.” It was a book about Van Gogh. “Do you like Van Gogh?” he asked as he sat back down at the easel.

“Honestly, I don’t know much about him, other than that he cut his ear off. I took an art history class in college, but it was mostly focused on Renaissance art.”

He took a couple photos and then he began to work on the painting. “I love Van Gogh’s paintings, especially his later works that are so bright and full of color. I try to use color like him.” I flipped through the pages as Mike worked. It did help make the time go by. I recognized some of the paintings, but many were new to me. Every now and then, I would look up a bit to see Mike working. It was as if he were in a trance, working with such passion to get the colors on the canvas. I had never seen anyone be in a zone like that. It was as if the whole world had vanished around him and it was just him and the canvas and his subject. I realized that was what I was. When he did look at me, it was as if I were an object, no different than the bowl of fruit that was sitting there on the table or the street scene in the photograph. I had the distinct feeling that I could be sitting there with my clothes off and he wouldn’t even notice, not that I was going to take that step, of course. It was an odd feeling, being there in the silence. Mike hadn’t spoken since he started working.  I wasn’t sure if I should speak, or not. I was afraid to break the spell he was under.

The light in the room began to grow dim. I could see the last rays of the sun as I looked out the window. I wondered when Mike would notice. He kept working for a few more minutes, and then he looked up at me. The spell was broken. “It’s getting dark. I should stop working,” he acknowledged. “How did you like the book?”

“It was interesting. I see what you mean about the colors. It’s incredible how much his art changed from the beginning to the end. I had never realized how young he was when he died.” I stood up and stretched. “I also never realized before how hard it is to try to stay still.”

“Yeah, when I was in art school, we had to take turns being the models. I never enjoyed it that much. I always preferred being behind the canvas.”

“Can I see the painting?” I asked, pointing to the easel.

“Sure, come on over. I’ll turn the light on so you can see it better. It’s not much to look at yet,” he admitted, “It’s just the underpainting.” Nevertheless, I could see the beginnings of what the painting would become. Mike had captured the light coming through the window and the basics of my face. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I’m not sure what to think – it’s definitely a work in progress.”

“You’re very diplomatic,” he laughed.  “I told you it didn’t look like much, yet. I’ll work from the photographs I took. It will get better. I promise.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know much about art. I’m just used to seeing the finished products – not the work that goes into them.”

“That’s OK – there’s no need to apologize. It’s kind of like writing. You start out with a first draft, but then you keep working and working and eventually you end up with something that’s pretty good.”

“That might be true for you. If I was making a painting, I could keep working on it forever and it would never turn into anything but a mess. I have no artistic ability, at least not in that area.”

“See, so many people think that about themselves, but it’s just not true. I’m a firm believer that everyone can draw and paint if they want to. You should come to one of my classes sometime. Try it out. I’ll prove to you that you’re wrong.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. Right now, though, I think I should be going home.”

“Oh, OK. Just let me clean up a bit and I will walk you out.”  I watched him as he washed his brushes and his hands. “I have to get the paint out of the brushes right away or else it will dry in them and then it is such a pain to try to get it out.”

We headed back downstairs. I could hear the boys playing. Sara was in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea, looking at a magazine. “Hey, I wondered what had happened to you two. I thought that you had left,” she said.

“Mike was showing me his studio upstairs,” I answered. I didn’t mention the painting.

“Oh, that’s nice! I don’t go up there too much. I can remember how messy Mike kept his room when we were kids. I’m scared of what I might find up there.”

“It’s not bad at all. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I reassured her.

“Would you like to stay for supper? We’re just going to be having leftover pizza, but you are welcome to join us,” Sara said.

“Thanks. That’s very kind, but I think I’m going to go home.”

“OK, well, thanks again for your help with the party. I hope that we’ll get to see you again.”

“Thanks. It was nice to meet you, too.” I turned to head out the front door. Mike followed behind me.

“I’ll get the door for you,” he said as he reached to open the door. “Thanks for letting me paint you. I had a nice afternoon.”

“I did, too. – I guess I’ll see you at the library?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” he answered. “Have a good night!”

“Good night.”

The door closed behind me as I stepped into the cool late afternoon air. I took a deep breath and let it flow through me, right down to my toes, and then walked slowly to my car. What in the heck had just happened? I honestly didn’t have a clue. Mike was one of the most inscrutable people I had ever met. He was kind and honest and obviously totally in love with life and his work. He had passion, a quality I had rarely seen up close. Most people I knew, myself included, just kind of meandered through life. He soaked it up, drinking it in. I liked being near him. His zeal for life was infectious. As much as I hated to admit it, and as much as I swore to myself that I wouldn’t, I was starting to have feelings for him that went way beyond friendship. Yet as I fervently attempted to remind myself, to him, I was just a friend.

I drove home. The radio in the car was playing way too many love gone wrong songs. I had had enough of those to last a lifetime. I turned off the music and listened to my own thoughts. Life was getting complicated. I hadn’t wanted that to happen. I wanted simple. I had moved here to get away from complicated. Why on earth couldn’t life be simple?

*****

Up in my room, I pulled out the small box in the center drawer of my bureau and opened it. There it was. My wedding ring – the reason life couldn’t be simple. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to get rid of it. I held it in my hand for a while, sat on my bed and cried. Lady curled up next to me. “Hey, pretty girl.” I petted her. “What am I going to do?” She didn’t have any answers but she did lick away the tears on my face. It was good to have a friend.

Join us next week for the next chapter of Through the Open Window.  Can’t wait for more?  Check out Through the Open Window at Amazon!

Unfortunately, there was great opposition to women ministering in the world. As a result, Francis and Jane decided to create a cloistered community based on the same ideals. They would have a spirit “of profound humility toward God and of great gentleness toward the neighbor.” In keeping with St. Francis’ instruction to seek God’s will in all things, they would seek only God and strive for union with Him. There would be far less emphasis on the ascetical practices common to religious orders of that day. Rather, they would focus on the inner spiritual life and an emphasis on simplicity and joy in a life lived in community.

In 1610, St. Jane and her two daughters became the first Sisters of the Visitation. The order spread very quickly. By the time of her death in 1641, there were 86 houses. Today, some Visitation communities continue to be cloistered, while others engage in more active ministry in the world. All continue to stay true to the dream of St. Francis and St. Jane.

Fidelity toward God consists in being perfectly resigned to his holy will, in enduring everything that his goodness allows in our lives, and in carrying out all our duties, especially that of prayer, with love and for love. In prayer we must converse very familiarly with our Lord, concerning our little needs, telling him what they are, and remaining submissive to anything he may wish to do with us… We should go to prayer with deep humility and an awareness of our nothingness. We must invoke the help of the Holy Spirit and that of our good angel, and then remain still in God’s presence, full of faith that he is more in us than we are in ourselves. There is no danger if our prayer is without words or reflection because the good success of prayer depends neither on words nor on study. It depends upon the simple raising of our minds to God, and the more simple and stripped of feeling it is, the surer it is. We must never dwell on our sins during prayer. Regarding our offenses, a simple humbling of our soul before God, without a thought of this offense or that, is enough…such thoughts act as distractions. – Saint Jeanne de Chantal, from “Wings to the Lord”

Copyright 2010 Patrice Fagnant-MacArthur

The streets I so briefly walked upon in apprehension they sleep upon at night. I will never know or understand the past that lead them to their present but I pray for their future. I pray that they may someday find their way back to sobriety, belief, hope and God’s eternal graces. Each one has a story no two are the same; some from Virginia another Tennessee all on a journey mislead through the tragedies of the downtrodden, disrespected by a society of fearful, judgmental, unfeeling hypocrites who pray for the poor on Sundays but would not lock eyes with on the street. I did nothing but open my ears to their stories, my heart to their wounds they opened to me, my mind to understand there is no one “homeless man or woman” they are us, we are them; each with our past, our journey, each with our present, our future not knowing where that will lead and many with the faith in God that He will get them there one day.

And so they walk the streets, sit on the corners, push their carts and ride their bikes, talking to no one, begging for a buck, just saying hi, waiting… for compassion, dignity to be treated as we say we should treat each other waiting…for our eyes to meet their eyes so that we can view the eyes of Christ.  If you listen, if you look, if you truly open your heart you will see that he dwells within the homeless man or woman for he dwells within all humanity. And I saw humanity, smelled the stench, felt the pain and it was real, it was real.

Copyright 2010 Lori Hadorn-Disselkamp

For years, I was married to a frequent flyer.  Truthfully, it was not something I enjoyed. Mostly it was something I endured.  But I did learn a few things from those years that may help other spouses deal with habitual business travel as I did.

Before he would leave, I always stood on “our step” – the one that brings my shorter height more in line with his lips – and gave him a kiss worth remembering.  The kind that would make our kids blush when they were little… a G-rated public display of affection, but enough to get the point across.  The kind that says I’ll be missing you and I’ll be right here when you get back.

Then came my traditional “wave” from the front door as he droves away.  I would take a deep breath as I would say a little prayer. This aspect of his career life was, at the least, a necessary inconvenience and, at the worse, a hardship we bore.

Here are 10 ideas, in random order, that have helped us deal with the separation both as a couple and as a family.

ONE: Keep tabs on each other.

Decide in advance when you will or won’t call each other and make this a priority as far as possible.  Texting is okay, and email is nice, but live voice contact person-to-person is what stirs the heart, and keeps relationships intact.

Before my husband would leave, depending on his destination, we would decide on what times were feasible when I could expect a call, or when it would be good to call him.  We usually settled on a nighttime call for me, at the end of our days when he was back at his hotel and we both could unwind.  (Naturally, this varied depending on time zones. Sometimes he and I would have to set alarms on watches, phones, or elsewhere as little prompts to help us keep the time zones in sync.)

When my children were little, my husband made it a priority to have a once-a-day phone conversation with them sometime within the two-hour window before their bedtime.  This often required some scheduling heroics on the part of my husband depending on his time zone as it intersected ours.  If time was really tight on my husband’s end, rather than play pass-the-phone with each little child, we opted for using a speakerphone. Then we interrupted whatever we were doing to have a family chat with Dad.  These days, families make use of internet technologies like voice- and video-over-IP chats via their computers.

He would review the day with each of them and talk to them about the people and places he was visiting.  Sometimes we’d find a map and let the children find he location.

Every call always ended with sufficient “I love you’s” and similar affirmations.

As my children grew into teenagers, these calls to my children became easier; Dad could call them directly on their own phones or text and vice-versa.

TWO: Keep him close in your heart.

Besides phone calls, I always keep my husband’s photo in my workspace in the kitchen and in the office.  And if I’m at home, I keep one of his jackets or sweaters by the front door.  I like seeing it there as I come and go, and sometimes I would even wear it outside if I was going to run an errand or join the children outside or walk the dog.  Or I’d play music that would remind me of him, or write him a letter to send while he was away, or to tuck into his suitcase on the next trip, or under his pillow when he returned.

And, I would pray for him… for his protection, for his success in his business, and for fortitude in the lonely moments while being on the road.

THREE: Keep his travel itinerary on hand for your sake and for his.

It goes without saying that if you have an emergency at home while your spouse travels, you’ll want to be in contact with him. For the sake of emergencies, always make sure you have your spouse’s full itinerary, complete with hotel, airline, and work-related phone numbers at the ready. You never know when you are going to need it.  Keep it in your purse or near the phone. Tell your older children where this information is as well.

Have more than one phone number to contact your spouse such as their administrative assistant, boss, or traveling companions. Keep handy his corporate travel agency contact or online booking service.

For your traveler, it’s important not to become overly reliant on cell phones and other mobile devices.  They can malfunction, or get lost or stolen. Not to mention batteries die, internet connections break down, and public phones are getting scarce.

There have been times when my husband was in a remote region of a country where the internet went down. He needed me to call his travel agent because his travel needs were changing by the hour, and he could not get through by phone or internet. Fortunately, I could help him out from home.

Another time he was on a plane that had to make an emergency landing at a different airport than its original destination. Such an event causes pandemonium at an airport for hours. Grateful as we were for his safety, he still was in the aftermath of the event and he needed me to alert his boss of his delay while he figured out how his was going to continue his travel, as well as recharge his blackberry.

FOUR: Be resourceful.

Naturally, emergencies related directly to the people in your family need to be communicated as soon as possible with your spouse: a death in the family, a sudden medical emergency, a severe car accident, etc.

My rule of thumb is always “people before things.”  Therefore, emergencies related to people in our family, I always communicate with my husband as soon as possible. But depending on severity, as far as possible, emergencies related to things, such as home or car or finances, I try to see what I can work out before calling my husband who is away from home.

Just because I have a cell phone doesn’t mean I have to use it for every little problem that comes up in my day. That would only add stress to my husband’s day, when often he is not in a position to help. If he calls me during the day, I’ll update him, or maybe send him an email about something that’s “brewing”… but I try to take things in stride, and see what I can do to remedy the situation.

This means that as far as possible, I am knowledgeable about our house, car, and finances. If I cannot fix a problem myself, I have a list of service providers that I can call in to help, or at least get an estimate while I’m waiting to discuss the problem with my husband. Between trips, I often had conversations with my husband about where he would like me to get help before a problem arose.

With that said, I always keep some extra cash on hand.

FIVE:  You don’t always have to go it alone.

This really applied to life with small children when daily routines are both helpful, but at times, tedious.  When I was a stay-at-home mother with small children for long stretches of business travel, I needed an adult break once in a while, even if I never left the house.

During the week, I would plan for a friend to come by at night for coffee and dessert. Or if my children’s needs allowed, I planned a lunch date out during the week.  Visiting with another adult helped those weeks pass by, plus allowed me some time to catch up with friends.

At times, teaming up with another friend who had a traveling husband, or inviting a single mother and her kids over for supper helped both of us cure loneliness that can creep up.

SIX: Do something out of the ordinary.

While routines are great in the family home, doing something silly or different can have a happy result and make happy memories even while Daddy is on the road. (Plus it will give the kids something to talk to Dad about on the phone!)

Simplify meals: Have breakfast food for dinner.  Picnic in the living room.  Eat dessert first. Let the kids plan and “cook” a meal as appropriate.

Camp out: Get out sleeping bags, or set up “camp” in the living room with candles and flashlights. Make popcorn or a special dessert while playing games together. Mom gets the couch. Kiddies get the floor. (A good option on weekends, not on school nights.)

Have a field trip: Take a mystery ride and don’t tell the children where they are going. Get to the zoo, a museum or a local historical site, a lake or the beach, or over to Grandma’s house.  It doesn’t matter where, just that you go and that it is fun for you and for them.

Seven: Learn to enjoy solitude.

Admittedly, this is a lost discipline in our high-powered multi-tasking culture.  Creating space to think and breathe and create is often hard to come by.

When my husband traveled, I had some “space” open up for me after the children went to bed.  And even when they were teens, their evening schedules often included homework or jobs.  I could often carve out a few hours each week after dinner, during my husband’s business travel, to pray quietly, to read a book, to watch a chick-flick he might not care for, or to pursue my writing craft or musical composition.

While enjoying social networking or reading some blogs might be fun for some people, I’ve found for renewal of mind and heart, often doing something creative brings more dividends that than just being passively engaged.

Eight: Plan a date with your spouse.

This is a sure-fire way to beat the blues that come from being separated from the one you love. I recommend the date being within a few days of his return. It can be simple and inexpensive, but it will be something both of you can look forward to.

Don’t begrudge the expense of a babysitter. You both deserve it. If you must be frugal in your budget, it might be time to add a line item of babysitting to your budget and work toward making it a reality.  Then you can plan and not feel guilty about the expense, and enjoy the process of planning the date.  For a few lean years, I traded babysitting time with a good girlfriend who had the same need. The benefit was that she was someone who knew my children and my house, and I could really relax when she was there.

Planning the date for a few days after his return allows him to restore from his travel.  My husband usually needs a day or two to recover from the fatigue associated with business travel, time zone changes, and meals on the road. Besides, he’s more fun on a date when he’s refreshed.

However, I will tell you one story that does not fit that mold. Sometimes business travel interferes with birthdays, anniversaries and similar special occasions, no matter how carefully we plan around them. Weather delays, airport traffic, it all can wreak havoc on a family calendar. After a flurry of incidences like that, I boldly planned a super date since I had the budget.  My special occasion date had a co-conspirator in a friend who took my children for a night. I arrived at the airport in my best dress and picked up my weary traveler.  After greeting him, I told him we had a dinner reservation at a restaurant we both liked. When the check came, I slipped a hotel room key in with the change.  I don’t recall fatigue being an issue on that date.

Nine: Make “coming home” pleasant and welcoming.

The space shuttle and other spacecraft experienced a certain amount of heat-shield loss upon re-entry of the earth’s atmosphere. In a way, this can happen to us humans as well. Business travel is not all that glamorous. It takes a lot of mental and physical energy to be “on” all the time. Coming home should be sweet, refreshing, and welcomed.

When children are small, make Daddy’s arrival back into the clan a true homecoming… and enjoy their excitement in welcoming him back.  But then, try to make minimum demands on him the first few hours home. For me, this meant making sure the living room and the master bedroom was tidy and a place to relax. It didn’t often matter if the rest of the house was a bit chaotic.  But giving my husband a chance to change out of work mode to home mode was key.

Honestly it often took great self-control on my part to not overwhelm him with my own immediate needs; like my need to talk to another adult, or have him fix the screen in the back door again. There would be time for all of that. For now, the emphasis is on welcome and hospitality. And gratitude.

TEN: Pray.

Pray for each other while you are apart for one another.  Pray for the children.  I already alluded to this above.

It is often helpful, when dealing with your own struggles during business travel separations to pray for others who deal with separation.

Through the years, I prayed for families who have loved ones in the military or government security agencies. These families live through deployments, often without knowledge of their loved one’s whereabouts.  I’ve really come to appreciate the depth of personal sacrifice these families are making to support a loved one in deployment.

I’ve prayed for families who are separated by long hospitalizations, or treatments that take them to distant cities in search of a cure. As a cancer survivor, I’ve met so many people who have travelled from afar to receive medical care in the fine hospital where I was treated.  I was so fortunate to have such care near my home.

I’ve prayed for families separated by incarcerations, natural disasters, or war.

Most of all, I found myself praying for single parents. And my gratitude for my own situation would swell. For I knew the date and time that my spouse would come home and my solitariness would come to an end.

Finally, I’ll admit that if I could end all this business travel for us, I would. Yes, we’ve had the benefit of frequent flyer miles for personal travel now and again.  Its still not worth the trade off.

Copyright 2010 Pat Gohn

Today, we are so happy to welcome Heidi Bratton, author of Making Peace with Motherhood and Creating a Better You and Homegrown Faith for Catholic Families and the Celebrate series of four board books

It seems to me that romantic love is, by nature, spontaneous.  Thinking back to when my husband and I were dating, I remember my stomach leaping into my throat every time the phone rang.  What should I say if it was him?!  I remember when his hand brushing mine caused my heart to skip a beat.

Following the normal cycle of getting married, starting careers, and having children, the impulsive nature of our love has matured.  What was once a high-spirited maple key, swirling down from the sky, has been planted and grown into a steadfast tree.  This steady, ‘love is a choice’ kind of love has given us the strength to weather temporary activity whirlwinds, and longer-term seasons of stress as a couple.  I am grateful that we now share both kinds of love, because I believe God designed marriage to be both passionate and practical.  The trick is to continue romancing even after the wedding bells have stopped pealing, and routine has set in.

My husband and I had the privilege of being taught the importance of this in pre-marital counseling by several Catholic couples that had been married for 20+ years.  These couples talked openly about the importance of a healthy sexual relationship, and I’d like to share some key bits of their wisdom.

The first key they taught us was to learn and practice the art of Natural Family Planning (NFP).  As a way to naturally regulate childbearing, NFP is one of the most misunderstood and under utilized gems of Catholic teachings.  Among couples that practice NFP, however, there is not only an incredibly low divorce rate, but also an incredibly high rate of satisfaction within marriage.  I did a little research and found that only 2% of couples that practice NFP get divorced as compared to the national divorce rate of 50%.  I also found that 89% of women who practiced NFP seem to share a deeper intimacy with their spouse than women who did not practice NFP.  (www.familyplanning.net/index-home.html)

The long and short of NFP is that it is much more than a natural method of birth control.  Practiced faithfully, it is a marriage tool that facilitates better communication, more self-giving, and, yes, possibly more children.  Whether a couple desires to have or to postpone having a child, they use the same awareness of the wife’s ovulation cycle to decide when to share the marital embrace.  Of course periodic abstinence in marriage may not sound like it helps spontaneity, but a monthly, agreed upon recess from sex throws spouses back into the dating years, helps them not to take sex for granted, and reminds them to cultivate non-sexual ways of expressing their love.  Clearly these are not the theological reasons to practice NFP, but our pre-marital counselors were not theologians.  They were just calling it as they saw and lived it:  obedience to church teachings about NFP had the positive side effects of heaping multiple blessings on their marriages.

The second and third keys from our pre-marital counselors were to pray together daily and to continue dating.  They taught us that by praying together, we would not only feel the relief of lifting our burdens to God, but also the companionship of sharing our burdens with each other.  We have made it a priority to continue dating weekly, and it has kept our romance alive.  Over time our daily prayer time together has also become a mini date.  Listening to each other’s prayers not only helps us keep in touch with daily happenings, but with each other’s souls.

With regard to love that was promised for a lifetime, it takes intentionality to preserve spontaneity, especially amid the complexity of family life.  By practicing Natural Family Planning, praying together daily, and scheduling dates, romance gives way to routine, which carves out occasions for romance, which give way to routine… so that, like tree rings in a giant maple, the spontaneous and the steady natures of marriage go round and round allowing love to grow stronger and stronger, year after year.

Copyright 2010 Heidi Bratton

Dear God,

I’m not asking for great riches or major transformation, just a little change every day, a little difference that will draw me closer to You.

I could stand on any old street corner begging for handouts, but that’s not the kind of change that will enrich my life.  Material riches won’t give me the kind of gain that will bring about lasting joy in my soul.  Instead, it is the spiritual riches that only You can give to me will endure and bring me peace.

I know that it is not within my power to make anyone else change.  My husband, my children, my coworkers and friends are all going to be whatever it is that you call them to be, even if it displeases me.  But if you would only give me a little change, modify my attitudes and the way I see others, I know that everything in my surroundings will change for me as if I had new eyes and a new heart.  Those things that irritate me in others will no longer be bothersome because the change you give to me will increase my tolerance in direct proportion to the increase of Your love in my heart.

So God, it is to you that I reach out my hand.  The change that I ask for won’t buy me a warm meal, but it will warm my heart and soul with Your gift of love.  This gift would be but a pittance for you to share, but to me, it is worth more than all the gold and silver in the world.  For with your love, I can do more than carry on and accept those around me who cause me difficulty or grief. When I am filled with Your love, I will be able to love others with all of my being.

Please hear my prayer, my plea for change, Lord.  Change me so that through this metamorphosis, the whole world will be brighter and more beautiful.  Amen.

Copyright 2010 Anne Bender

Let’s rewind to last year’s Lent. I was determined to give up my favorite beverage of all time….Fountain Pepsi. Not just Pepsi, mind you, Fountain Pepsi, those super sweet Pepsi drinks from a Taco Bell or a gas station. Trust me, I could tell if it was from a can or the real deal, fountain. I took on this challenge in the hopes to kick the habit, which I can fully admit now, was a slight addiction on my part, making me a slave to the cravings.

I’d get through my morning, making up excuses of why we just HAD to run that errand right next to the Taco Bell. I’d make a stop after school pick up, just to taste that sweet, caffeinated syrup. It was bad. It was a craving, unlike I’d ever had pregnant. I longed for this beverage in a way that clearly wasn’t healthy, and it became my ‘drug’ of choice. And just like all drugs, I became a slave to it.

Without it, I wasn’t myself. I was cranky, irritable and miserable, and I let others know it. At times, I could tell the day just wasn’t right because of my lack of Pepsi, and would actually beg my husband to stop and pick one up before coming home. I admit, my joy when he walked through the door, wasn’t seeing him, it was seeing that extra large fountain Pepsi brimming with ice that had my heart pitter pattering.

How sad.

I thank God, that He allowed me to see this addiction as something hindering me and in His way, showed me that Lent was the optimal time to give up this favorite drink of mine.

Let me tell you, last years Lent, was the toughest yet. The first three days were the hardest I’ve ever experienced. You know, trying to set the example for my kids to not complain while sacrificing was probably the worst for me. I had to be happy, and deal with my frustrations in a mature way, offering up my sacrifice as I always told the kids to do.

It took the first two weeks, I believe to actually get past the physical cravings, including the dreaded caffeine headaches. Then, something else happened, I had to get over the mental need for it, and that took another week. I had to shape my behavior, not making up excuses to run errands, not making that stop at the gas station. I found I had more time, more flexibility because I gave up this nasty habit. In the course of these three weeks, I had actually freed myself from this ‘bondage’ I had entangled myself in!

Easter, last year, indeed did include a big fat Fountain Pepsi, crisp ice, and a long straw for my day long enjoyment. Wouldn’t it figure, it was so sweet, tasted like a thick syrup, that I took two sips and threw the rest out. How in the world was I able to drink this like an addict just 40 days ago?

Yesterday and today, I relived last years Lent, and the lesson I gained from that whole experience. Pepsi for me hindered me. It enslaved my emotions, my feelings, my state of mind, my behavior and my daily schedule. It enslaved ME! How I loathed this drink after kicking this habit. How dare it control me in this way! I am a free person!

I share this in an attempt to explain the whys of Lent sacrifices. It can be tough, especially if the sacrifice requires a strengthening of willpower! How often are we enslaved by some ‘thing’ in our lives. Perhaps it’s that Starbuck’s frappuccino, or it’s updating the Facebook page, or it’s that sugar we absolutely must have on our breakfast cereal. Are there things in your life that living without hinder your mood? Are there needless things in your life that dictate your daily schedule? The options are endless…..

The point here should be obvious. God made us free. God gave us a free will. When we allow these things in our lives to enslave us, our will is weak. This is the crux of the matter, our will must be iron clad, that when we hear God calling us in a particular direction, we will be able to serve Him, as He needs, and not fear failure, because each Lent we shrug off the shackles of our bad habits, and see success. We see we are free. We are free to choose Him, and no Pepsi run would be able to stand in the way of making that free choice.

Lenten sacrifice, is in a sense, a measure of our willpower, a moment in time, albeit 40 days, which allows us to look inward, and see how strong IS our strength of will.

Copyright 2010 Sahmatwork