I'm here to remind you that it's only the beginning

“He who names Himself “God with us” 

never stops suffering with us.”

~Ann Voskamp

+   +   +

"No human heart has ever entered into such a dark night as that God/Man in Gethsemane and on Golgotha. No searching human spirit can penetrate the unfathomable mystery of Godforsakenness of the dying God/Man. But Jesus can give His friends a taste of this utmost bitterness...

A 'Scientia Crucis,' (knowledge of the cross) one can only acquire by getting to feel the cross thoroughly. Of that, I was convinced from the first moment and have said with all my heart: Ave, crux, spes unica (Welcome, cross, our only hope)."

~Edith Stein, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross

+   +   +

I look at Palm Sunday as a sort of reset button.

No matter what this Lent has been about, no matter what I’ve done or not done well, no matter what my intentions were five weeks ago—I can give myself fully to this coming week.

So if you are like me and you’re wondering if it’s too late, I’m here to remind you that it’s only the beginning.

This is Holy Week.

Look at the rest of this week with new eyes.

Say yes to the quiet moments. They’re everywhere!

Look at your Bible (or daily readings) before you look at your phone in the mornings (Pope Francis’ suggestion, not mine!).

Take time to read the Passion story... perhaps watch "The Passion" movie.

Pray.

Spread joy -- in whatever circumstance you find yourself in this week.

Celebrate the Triduum… Thursday’s Mass of the Lord’s Supper… Friday’s Adoration of the Cross… and yes, if at all possible, go to the Easter Vigil.  It is the most beautiful liturgy of the whole Liturgical year!

[this post is a slightly modified repeat from April 9, 2017!]

Feeling the all or nothing of life, as is

There’s an incredibly intense, odd, yet distinctive, feeling that I get following every big family gathering, or rather, after family get-togethers that revolve around a special holy day—like Easter and Christmas.

This year, as has often been true in our family life, Michael and I shared the Triduum services with family members and special friends—Thursday’s Mass, Friday’s veneration of the Cross, and the Easter Vigil, the mother of all liturgies.

And at home, of course, everything culminated on Easter Sunday morning, when everyone gathered at our house for a full day of activities and a special meal – the kind of meal with recipes that are only made once a year.

Although the weather didn’t allow us to hang out in the back yard –my favorite! – we had a lovely afternoon full of laughter and games and storytelling, and not too many breakdowns J.

We seemed to move like a wave through the house, from room to room, ultimately retreating back into the ocean that is our large living room. That’s where we prayed together, where we had our Easter toast, where the kids drag us to read books—or to read books to us!

We had a traditional egg hunt for the Grands and their friends (11 kids total this year) – as well as the latest Scaperlanda Tribe tradition: a Hunger-Game-style egg hunt for adult “kids” under age 36. You’d have to see it to believe it.

Our meal menu has been the same for the last 23 years: garlicky leg-of-lamb, spinach and artichoke casserole, potatoes chantily, and home made rolls (courtesy of our best bread maker, Anamaría). The menu, by the way, comes from a ripped off page (now laminated) out of a Woman’s World magazine dated 4/11/95. The article was titled, “Amy Grant’s Southern-style Easter feast.”  Nope, I’m not kidding.

Today, as I sit in the same large living room that yesterday pulsated with the heartbeat of our family, the space is only filled up by scattered toys, books and empty plastic multi-colored eggs. 

I feel overwhelmed by what I can only describe as bitter sweet. I am spent, physically, yet also a bit weepy.

It’s not that I want my life to be different, or that I yearn for my life as it used to be—all those years of exhausting parenting when my awesome foursome all lived under our roof. I am genuinely delighted to watch my kids grow up, as well as to witness first hand the beautiful families that they are building.

Perhaps it’s the all or nothing of it all? That seems to be a constant element of this stage in our lives. Or perhaps I’m simply feeling the sadness that accompanies all true joy, the being truly here, then moving on. I don’t know.

Still, my house is silent. It is empty. There is something to feel here also. Life as is.

photo by Ignacio Ruiz

photo by Ignacio Ruiz

why I love Holy Week

#MARY

 #HEART

 #PETITIONS

 #PRAYER

 #FAITHFUL

 #SILENCE

 #HOSANNA

 #FROZEN

 #SACRIFICE

#FREEDOM

I look at Palm Sunday as a sort of reset button.

No matter what this Lent has been about, no matter what I’ve done or not done well, no matter what my intentions were five weeks ago—I can give myself fully to this coming week.

So if you are like me and you’re wondering if it’s too late, I’m here to remind you that it’s only the beginning.

This is Holy Week.

Look at this week with new eyes.

Say yes to the quiet moments. They’re everywhere!

Look at your Bible (or daily readings) before you look at your phone in the mornings (Pope Francis’ suggestion, not mine!).

Take time to read the Passion story.

Pray.

Spread joy -- in whatever circumstance you find yourself in this week.

Celebrate the Triduum… Thursday’s Mass of the Lord’s Supper… Friday’s Adoration of the Cross… and yes, if at all possible, go to the Easter Vigil.  It is the most beautiful liturgy in the Catholic Church.

+   +   +   +

Note #1:   The photos you see here are from my #LentPhotoaDay efforts, a part of my #LentenWalk this year! 

+   +   +   +

Note #2:   In order to enter fully into my “reset efforts” this week, I am signing off all social media!  

Know that I will hold you and yours in my prayers throughout these holy days! 

+   +   +   +

“We should glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,

for he is our salvation,

our life,

and our resurrection;

 through him we are saved and made free.”

~Galatians 6:14

 #WAIT

 #ABANDON

 #EMPTY

 #SAINT

#TRUST

 #JOY

 #BEGINNINGS

 #GIFT

 #PEACE

 #SUNRISE

 #SPRING

 #LOVE

#MATERNITY

#SmallMerciesMiércoles: I'm grateful for... our Catholic liturgies

I've had a busy, non-stop kind of day, which means I'm writing this #SmallMerciesMiércoles post in the evening--as I wait for dinner. I'm not sure what my daughter Michelle is cooking for us tonight, but I can tell you that the smells making their way to my office are pretty spectacular... but I digress!

At our parish tonight we celebrated and prayed together a modified Tenebrae service, also known as "a service of shadows."  To read more about this monastic tradition go here.

I was very moved by this response, which we chanted throughout the readings, psalms, and prayers:

This is the holiest of weeks of the year, with liturgies that are rich in meaning and abounding in beauty, and tonight's service was no exception. It was lovely, reflective, and challenging, a perfect entrance to the Triduum we begin tomorrow. To read more on the Triduum go here.

As I reflect on the richness of our Catholic faith and traditions, what I'm grateful for today becomes quite obvious. 

I'm grateful for... our Catholic liturgies, and how they connect me across time, history, and space with the whole community of believers!

This will be my last blog post until Easter week, so I'll leave you with two thoughts. First, from my dear friend Father Thomas Boyer, a brilliant homilist, now retired:

"The Passion of Christ is not about how Christ suffered, what happened to him, and how awful we might think it was. The Passion of Christ is about his response, not his persecution...  

Watch and learn from the master. Despite his fear and his agony, he is focused on God and on others. He meets women who are weeping for him, and he tells them to weep for themselves. He hangs there with a criminal, and he comforts him with a promise of Paradise. No matter what happens in this Passion, it is never about him. He remains attentive and focused on God and the needs of others…   This is what we can learn from the Passion; not how Christ died, but what he still teaches us through his death about hope, about sacrifice, and about love for others."

And finally, something I wrote last year, published on Good Friday in the New York Times section “Room for Debate.”  The question was,  “What is the purpose of Lent.”  Here's my response:

Ten years after my friend Pat and I walked 350 miles of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage, we laugh about the vigorous women we were then. Pat is battling life-threatening brain cancer, and I’m learning to function with a diminishing chronic autoimmune condition.

It would be too simple to say our physical circumstances are a metaphor for the struggles and challenges of the Camino. In so many ways, the Camino is a metaphor for our whole lives: I can’t anticipate what struggles today will bring, but anything is doable one step at a time. Every uphill has a downhill. Hardship becomes manageable with a friend. Every single thing that I carry weighs me down, so I must choose wisely. 

In our culture, pain, suffering, worries, difficulties and grieving are all things to conquer — and to anesthetize as quickly as possible. Each of us is an addict looking for a quick fix. Drugs. Food. Exercise. Sex. Shopping. Disposable relationships. Whatever it takes to not feel bad, sad, hurt. 

Thus the question for me is not whether there’s a point to giving things up during Lent, but whether I should ever stop fasting from all that numbs, dulls and deadens me to life, all of life, as it is today — the good and the bad. Fasting makes me willing to try. 

For Christians, Good Friday stands alone in holiness and singularity. The day defines who and what we believe — and what makes us different. Christianity scandalously proposes a God who becomes human out of love for humanity. The scandal deepens when this God-made-man willingly accepts suffering and death out of complete trust. 

The Passion of Christ is not ultimately about how Christ suffered; it’s not a documentary on the History Channel. The Passion is about Jesus’ response. 

In the midst of intense pain, in spite of undeserved persecution and profound discrimination, Jesus keeps his eyes on God, commending his heart and entire being to the one he trusted completely and without reservation. Each Lent, I fast to remember.

Go here if you'd like to read all of the other entries.

wood carving by a Costa Rican artisan, on our home's entryway

God of mercy, make these holy days

a time of hope and promise for your people!