imagine...God looking at you and smiling!

 

happy third week of Advent!!

“But discernment only operates in an atmosphere of prior trust—only when we admit an experience and let it develop do we have the grounds for discernment. You cannot discern from a distance. You have to get involved, to take the risk; only on that basis can you assess the feedback and make the adjustment. Discernment implies relationship. 

In the third Addition, Ignatius invites us into a complex, relational reality. If God is looking at us, God is in relationship with us. As we try to understand this relationship, we can focus either on God or on ourselves. We can consider what it is like to be looked at. How am I feeling? We can also consider the God who is looking, and what that God is like. How is God feeling? As we move between these two ways of responding to Ignatius’ invitation, they begin to fuse, to enrich each other, to be woven into something intricate and beautiful. I am looking at God looking at me looking at God. When I look at the God who looks at me, it is not a matter simply of seeing the other as one object among many, but of looking, gazing, contemplating. We see each other. The look transforms—it is encounter.”

~Robert R. Marsh, 

“Looking at God looking at you: Ignatius’ Third Addition”

Although St. Ignatius wrote his Spiritual Exercises as a 30 day silent retreat for his “company” of men, both times that I have completed the Exercises, all the meditations, readings and prayers have been modified and presented as a program for lay people in the midst of everyday life.

A great example—and one that I highly recommend for people in the Oklahoma City Archdiocese, is called “Retreat in Daily Life.”

During the first week of the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius sets up several prayer opportunities to help us reflect on how loved we are, how much God loves us. 

The idea is that here’s where it all begins. It is within this Love experience, this relationship, that we are able to respond to God in complete sincerity and honesty, and it is then that we can begin to see truthfully and then, confront our sinfulness.

It is such a critical and central point of reference!  It is from, with, and in this Love that all else comes, develops, unfolds—even sorrow for our sins, which then allows us to receive God’s mercy and love.

I think Jesuit Anthony de Mello summarized it in beautiful simplicity:

 “Behold God beholding you … and smiling.”

[Source: Hearts on Fire: Praying with Jesuits, Michael G. Harter (Editor)]

Last week my amazing daughter-in-law Mary sent me this delightful video of my Twinkies, who are now 1-year-old.  At first I thought that their giggles came as a response to their big sister Elena.

But, no.  The twins were simply looking at each other—gazing at each other in complete wonder—and the response was utter delight. Joy! Manifested in their smiles and laughter.

When you watch Cecilia and Ignacio in this video, may you imagine

God looking at you… and smiling!

Past... present... future

“I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realizes an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.”  ~Virginia Woolf

I have been in Milwaukee for the past five days, celebrating the baptism of our twin grandchildren, Ignacio and Cecilia—and the second birthday of their big sister, Elena Clare.

For two whole days, our entire family was together again, everyone under the same roof--for the first time since our two daughters’ weddings this summer.  We also had the added blessing of my parents and brother making the long 14-hour-drive to join us for all these celebrations.

What adjectives can accurately describe my feelings as I watched my 83-year-old father named Ignacio holding his 8-week-old tocayo (namesake) Ignacio?

I am not numb, but I am speechless. The present is so f-u-l-l! All I can do is take it all "in." Notice everything. Even as I remain unable to name emotions or describe feelings.

As 2012 comes to a close, I welcome the newness of 2013, and ask God for the grace to simply be open—and to notice, to be aware, to listen.

May you have the hindsight to know where you've been     the foresight to know where you're going

and the insight to know when you're going too far.  ~Irish blessing 

Messy miracles: my holy trinity of grandchildren

Ignacio & Cecilia

The past two weeks have been an oxymoron of reality. On the one hand, it’s been a blur of traveling activity between four cities, some work-related, most for family visits. But on the other hand, the two weeks have offered me a peaceful stillness at every stop, and a complete change of pace from my normal routine.  They have been full of grace, a great beginning for my Advent.

The downside has been, however, that living a completely different routine and schedule from my normal reality has made my blog writing time almost non-existent! I will try to do better, but this is all still quite new to me.

My longest stop was in Milwaukee. Where the last time I was there in October there were three, this time there were FIVE family members at my son and daughter-in-law’s home!

The twins, Cecilia Teresa and Ignacio Christopher, are still very tiny by comparison to most all newborn babies. But they are doing very well, eating, gaining weight, growing, as well as maturing in their looks.  They are now six weeks old.

Elena kisses on one of her babies

During my time with my holy trinity of grandchildren I was struck by the reality that taking care of three children—a two-year-old and twin babies—is not very romantic. It’s difficult to get too sentimental about newborns when your day is full of poopy diapers, burp rags, dirty clothes, spills, messes, and lots and lots of calming crying babies.

But in the midst of the chaos and the mess, taking care of three children—a two-year-old and twin babies—is truly full of magical, miracle moments. Like the instant I was struck by the wonder of hearing TWO small humans sleeping on my shoulders. Or the flash of beauty created every time two-year-old Elena stopped playing to run and kiss her baby “Celia” or “Nacio.” Or the moment when the babies, laying on their backs side by side, suddenly held hands!

Taking care of three children under two is ultimately an excellent metaphor for life. Reality is messy, dirty, complicated—but in the midst of the messy ordinary, miracles are waiting to be discovered. 

the Write Stuff

The past couple of days have been full of family events and unexpected surprises—from celebrating my parents 56th anniversary with our daughters to play dates and a surprise visit from my brother Ignacio.  

Needless to say, writing time has been minimal to non-existent!

This morning I went with Papi to his doctor visit, and it reminded me of a crisis time years ago when writing time was simply not optional. It was a survival tool for me, an intimate and personal source for managing and processing all that was going on in my life.

From my book, The Journey: a Guide for the Modern Pilgrim, co-authored with my husband Michael:

When our family first learned about my mom’s colon cancer, I felt compelled to write down every nuance of that experience. Like a cleansing shower after a workout, I would come home from a visit to the hospital or a chemotherapy session and start writing. 

On January 28 of that year I noted, “There is a nurse at the doctor’s office whose care and compassion for mom and for the other patients is deep and evident. When Tori comes to connect her to the IV, she brings her rollaway chair as close to Mom as she can and she touches Mom’s arms softly, tenderly, as if her skin was the softest material she’s ever felt. She is looking for a good vein, which at this point [in the chemotherapy] is hard to find. 

The last two times she’s been “lucky,” she said, and she was able to find a vein on her first stick. When she doesn’t get it, she apologizes to Mom with such feeling, truly aware that every little pain only increases the big pains. It’s not that we feel less when things get bigger, it’s rather that we feel more. We feel everything, especially when it comes to pain. Every experience of pain makes us less willing, more fearful, which is why feeling and loving become a more deliberate choice. 

“Tori’s gentle way,” I continued, “does not go unnoticed by Mom, who always takes note and tries to smile and appreciate her even as Tori is poking her! The past two sessions she has even collected a bag full of samples of “Boost” bars, puddings, cans––to help Mom keep up her strength even as she continues to loose her appetite more and more each day. The most noticeable change to me is in Mom’s eyes.”  

During those long months, I wanted––and needed––to write down every detail that I noticed, about the doctor, about the room, about the new foreign language that the medical professionals used, expecting us to know what it all meant. I wanted to record my emotions, though I often had no clue how to label the tornado of feelings whirling inside me. I wanted to pray, on paper, what I couldn’t pray out loud. Sometimes to fight with God. But more often to simply write on paper what it felt like to mourn the fact that my mother was no longer the woman I remembered. 

Even as I sat by her, hearing her breathing next to me, I was deeply aware that I was watching my mother dying, not today or tomorrow. But simply aware of and acknowledging her death. I couldn’t say those things out loud, so I wrote them. I didn’t want to just survive through that year and a half of surgery and chemotherapy, I wanted it to become a true pilgrimage of whatever it was that God was showing me, telling me, through my mom’s experience. And journaling became a fundamental tool in this process.

Seeing double!

Welcome to the world Ignacio Christopher 

and Cecilia Teresa Scaperlanda! 

November 2, 2012

Milwaukee, WI

Elena meets baby Ignacio

Ill walk in the rain by your side

Ill cling to the warmth of your hand

Ill do anything to keep you satisfied

Ill love you more than anybody can

And the wind will whisper your name to me

Little birds will sing along in time

Leaves will bow down when you walk by

And morning bells will chime

Baby Cecilia

Ill be there when you’re feeling down

To kiss away the fears if you cry

Ill share with you all the happiness I’ve found

A reflection of the love in your eyes

And Ill sing you the songs of the rainbow

A whisper of the joy that is mine

And leaves will bow down when you walk by

And morning bells will chime

Baby Ignacio, "Nate"

Ill walk in the rain by your side

Ill cling to the warmth of your tiny hand

Ill do anything to help you understand

And Ill love you more than anybody can

And the wind will whisper your name to me

Little birds will sing along in time

Leaves will bow down when you walk by

And morning bells will chime

[Note: Lyrics by John Denver]

Cecilia & Ignacio on Daddy's lap