Friday, August 15, 2014

on this day in history

Today, August 15, is the feast of the Assumption of Mary into heaven, as well as my Cuban grandfather Alipio’s birthday!

On this date in 1945, church bells rang throughout the world as the Second World War finally came to an end. For Koreans, today is also Independence Day—commemorating the end in 1945 of what was a bitter and cruel Japanese rule over the Korean people.

It seems like no coincidence, therefore, that Pope Francis chose this date for his first visit to AsiaHe wasted no time calling all of us to pray -- and work -- for peace!

 “[Korea’s] national legacy has been tested through the years by violence, persecution and war. But despite these trials, the heat of the day and the dark of the night have always given way to the morning calm, that is, to an undiminished hope for justice, peace and unity. What a gift hope is! We cannot become discouraged in our pursuit of these goals which are for the good not only of the Korean people, but of the entire region and the whole world…

Peace is not simply the absence of war, but “the work of justice” (cf. Is 32:17). And justice, as a virtue, calls for the discipline of forbearance; it demands that we not forget past injustices but overcome them through forgiveness, tolerance and cooperation. It demands the willingness to discern and attain mutually beneficial goals, building foundations of mutual respect, understanding and reconciliation. May all of us dedicate these days to peace, to praying for it and deepening our resolve to achieve it.”

¡Asi sea! (may it be so).

[Click here for the full text of Pope Francis’ August 14 speech to South Korean leaders on his first day of a 5-day visit.]

During his visit this week, Pope Francis will beatify Korea's first martyr,
Paul Yun Ji-chung, and his 123 companions

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

sand, surf, and holy moments




I returned last night from a long weekend on the Texas coast with all my family and with a group of dear friends, many of whom I’ve known since my days—500 years ago!—as an undergraduate attending the University Catholic Center at the University of Texas in Austin.

Being at the beach for me is always and foremost a tangible, undeniable glimpse into God’s presence in all of creation, and in this present moment. it is in the sand and the waves that I inevitably touch, however briefly, the mysterious essence of eternity.

In that sense, these past few days on the coast were no different.

Yet like all other things in my life right now, even in this most familiar place, being with these most familiar and intimate friends and family—everything seemed foreign, different, even “off.”   

I am aware that, the truth is, it is *I* who feel strange and different. I am the one who is “off.” 

What was such a blessing about this weekend is that it didn't matter. I allowed myself to be off, to feel strange and different in front of my family and friends. I acknowledged this unfamiliar and unusual state where my heart dwells right now. And I knew that I was (I am!) still loved and accepted, as I am, where I am.

What a holy moment!


Each of us is loved by God with a limitless, unconditioned, and unconditional love that we can never destroy or even diminish. We are loved into existence; cherished in our existence; affirmed absolutely in death and beyond. This love is independent of our merit or demerits. Nothing whatsoever can separate us from this love. For it is the breadth; it is the length; it is the height and it is the depth—there is nowhere beyond it, above it or below it. It is All: the limitless ocean that encompasses our tiny, threatened, fragile yet definitely precious self.

This is not merely impersonal, protective benevolence but a love that gives self, that offers inconceivable intimacy and that seeks reciprocity. We can never define or draw a line around what God will do for each one of us. We are exposed to the infinite. Against this truth what does our sense of impotence matter?”
                                                                                            ~Sister Ruth Burrows, O.C.D.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

what we need is here


Mont Saint-Michele, France
2013
The Wild Geese Horseback on Sunday morning,harvest over, we taste persimmonand wild grape, sharp sweetof summer’s end. In time’s maze
over the fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, namesthat rest on graves. We opena persimmon seed to find the treethat stands in promise,pale, in the seed’s marrow.Geese appear high over us,pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,as in love or sleep, holdsthem to their way, clear,in the ancient faith: what we needis here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to bequiet in heart, and in eyeclear. What we need is here. 

~Wendell Berry, “The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry

Monday, August 4, 2014

you can't fake surrender



It is I” ~Mathew 14:27

“God is in all things, sustains all things, directs all things. [To] see his will in all things was to accept each circumstance and situation and let oneself be borne along in perfect confidence and trust… By renouncing, finally and completely, all control of my life and future destiny, I was… freed from anxiety and worry, from every tension, and could float serenely upon the tide of God’s sustaining providence in perfect peace of soul.” ~Walter J. Ciszek, S.J.

michael & michelle walking the Italian beach

It is often only in retrospect that life can be seen accurately. A good example is looking back and remembering the worse, most difficult, most painful moments in my life, or other critical life changing events.

Days, months, or more likely, years later, I eventually recognize that one of the graces—or dare I call them blessings? —of these moments is how clearly I later see the hand of God in the details of my life.

A few years when Michael, Michelle and I fell asleep on a deserted beach in southern Italy and, while we were sleeping, our travel bag stolen. Not only did the bag have our passports, money, credit cards, camera, it also had the keys to our rental car, so we weren’t going anywhere!

My honest but bold prayer that day still makes me laugh.  As I walked up and down the beach cussing under my breath and checking every trash bin in the hope that some of our things had been dumped and left behind, the words I burst out loud were more of a dare than a prayer: “Oh fine. Let’s see how you’re going to get us out of this one!”

In God’s eternal, faithful, and even humorous love, the answer was immediate.  A young couple down the beach came to ask how they could help us. They drove us to the nearby police station, and even took us to the flat that was our home for the week, even though it was several towns away. We are now Facebook friends with our Italian angels.

On a more serious note, during recovery from surgery on my cervical spine eight years ago, I remember feeling so completely empty, powerless, and broken that my only prayer was one of surrender. I felt lonely and vulnerable, yes. But I wasn’t asking God for help as much as keenly aware that only in Him, through Him, with Him, could I continue living. It was both sobering and liberating.

But why do I wait for a moment when I feel completely helpless to trust the God who loves me so faithfully day after day? How can I make the shift in attitude from having confidence in God because that’s what I should do—to truly and completely surrendering myself to God in trust with every detail of my life?

The thing is that I don’t want my actions and prayers to be based on a religious or pious definition of what or how a good Catholic Christian should act.

What I really want is that serenity Father Ciszek describes and that I've experienced during crisis, the type that frees me from anxiety and worry. I want to surrender to God—because I am loved, and that changes everything.

I want love to be my catalyst.


Monday, July 28, 2014

remembering Father Stanley Francis Rother, Oklahoma martyr


Today is the 33rd anniversary of the death of Father Stanley Rother. 

You may recall that I’ve been commissioned by the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City to write a biography of Servant of God Father Stanley Rother, the Oklahoma missionary whose cause for canonization is in progress.

I've blogged about him and his ministry to the Tz'utujil indians of Guatemala many times, for example here and here. And I have published several articles on him. Here’s one, and here’s another.

It all began here, growing up as a member of the Rother clan in the town of Okarche, Oklahoma:


remembering Stan, at the home of her brother Tom and sister in law Marti
Okarche, OK
Memorial to their hometown saint, Holy Trinity Catholic School and parish
a young Stanley, with his nephew at a Christmas gathering in Okarche

As a missionary priest serving in the Oklahoma mission in Santiago Atitlán, Padre Francisco, called Apla's by the Guatemala Tz'utujil indians, had a special place in his heart for the children. 

It's not difficult to see how this love and concern manifested itself in his earnest commitment and ministry for the widows and the orphans during Guatemala's bloody civil war.


Please join me and the Church in Oklahoma and Guatemala in praying for the canonization of this faithful priest and martyr:
Heavenly Father,
source of all holiness,
in every generation you raise up
men and women heroic in love and service.
 
You have blessed your Church
with the life of Stanley Rother,
priest, missionary, and martyr.
 
Through his prayer, his preaching,
his presence, and his pastoral love,
you revealed Your love and Your presence
with us as Shepherd.
 
If it be your will,
may he be proclaimed
by the universal church
as martyr and saint,
living now in your presence
and interceding for us all.
 
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen
And would you join me also in praying for a publisher for my Rother biography? I am confident and waiting for the right home for this important manuscript.

To join the cause, visit the Father Stanley Rother Guild -- or contact me!

Saturday, July 26, 2014

the music in my head

Original image source: here

I’ve had a number of songs on "repeat" play lately.

But I have also had tunes pop into my mind—and in my dreams—out of seemingly “nowhere,” which I know can only come from the Supreme Musician, who knows how healing and fun music is for me.

Here’s a sampling of the music that’s been playing in my head and on my iPhone... can you hear God’s voice talking to you, too?

The storms are raging on the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret.
The winds of change are blowing wild and free,
You ain't seen nothing like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true.
Nothing that I wouldn't do.
Go to the ends of the Earth for you,
To make you feel my love
To make you feel my love


Make You Feel My Love
Adele, “19”

“What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?... No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” ~Romans 8: 35-39

 +   +   +   +   +

When I die, I don't want to rest in peace
I want to dance in joy,
I want to dance in the graveyards, the graveyards
and while I'm alive,
I don't want to be alone mourning the ones who came before
I want to dance with them some more,
let's dance in the graveyards
Gloria…


Dance in the Graveyards
Delta Rae, “Carry the Fire”


 +   +   +   +   +

I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life…

15 I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got a 100 years to live…

Half time goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on


"100 Years"
Five for Fighting, “100 Years”

“Man is but a breath,
his days are like a passing shadow.” ~Psalm 144:4

 +   +   +   +   +

Nothing really matters in the end you know
All the worry is over
Don't be afraid for me my friend, one day we all fall down forever

And you are not alone
Laying in the light
Put out the fire in your head
And lay with me tonight


Not Alone
Patty Griffin, “Living with Ghosts”




Thursday, July 24, 2014

if I could tell you stories



That moment where I realize I’m at the bottom of the page, and I honestly have no idea what I just read.  Perhaps you can relate.

I have been so easily distracted lately.  Not only is my mind constantly forgetting things, even meetings or events. But it also effortlessly wanders off into meandering wonderings.

At daily Mass, for example, as I’m kneeling, preparing to go up for communion, I glance at the minister of the cup and think, “whoa, he looks like he’s gained at least 10 pounds!”—and there goes the my attention down the trail of errant thoughts.

I am aware that a lot of this is temporary. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to realize that my mind—much like the rest of “me”—has experienced an overload of deep, intense, and life-changing moments and emotions.  How can I feel both overloaded and empty?

I know it’s going to take a while. Much like healing from a surgery, in this mourning, shifting, and grief, there is no substitute for time.

So on days like today, when it is, literally, impossible for me to remain concentrated on any one thing; I make a new plan of action.

·               I give myself a break. I begin by stopping any and all negative/dismissive/judgmental language about myself. You know the kind, those demeaning statements that always imply I should be doing better.
·               If I have an important task that must be completed, I slow down, take notice of what I’m thinking—or where I got distracted, and simply go back to the original process. As the PHOX song says, “Everything I do I do in slow motion.”
·               When possible, like at Mass!—I close my eyes. This simple act makes my other senses pay more attention.
·               At prayer, or sometimes when I’m in bed with too many things flying around inside my head, I hold a small cross or a crucifix in my hand and gently touch it with my fingers. Again, it alerts my other senses and helps me focus.
·               And did I mention I give myself a break? With temperatures and the heat index over a hundred, I can’t go outside as much as I’d like. But the Oklahoma evenings still allow me to sit under the stars, or go on a late night walk with my hubby.

Would you believe me if I told you that I sat down to write a blog post about music

Ah, well… maybe the next one!