Lord have mercy, please

You know how I am about the words of the Mass, and how sometimes those same words that I’ve been hearing all my life jump out and grab me… sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in English, sometimes even in the revised English!

Today I knelt early as we recited, Lamb of God, have mercy on us… and I really heard the word mercy

Lamb of God, have mercy on me… please

Have mercy on me when I judge another person’s heart and their intentions, and I don’t even know them

Have mercy on me when I bite my tongue with lack of forgiveness for what he did to my daughter/son/husband

Have mercy on me when I self-righteously act like a martyr

Have mercy on me when I’ve been wronged, and I am full of self-righteousness

Have mercy on me when I tell the same story that happened 10/20/30 years ago criticizing her, yet expect others to acknowledge that I’m not the same as I was 10/20/30 years ago

Oh Lamb of God, have mercy on us… and grant us peace

and let it begin with me

"MAY A POWERFUL CRY FOR PEACE 

GO UP FROM EVERY LAND!"

~Pope Francis

“The greatest challenge of the day is: how to bring about a revolution of the heart, a revolution which has to start with each one of us?” 

~Dorothy Day

+   +  +   +   +

When the moments of crisis and violence around the world and in our country feels too overwhelming for me... when I start to feel helpless before the power of evil that I see, hear, smell, touch, seemingly everywhere I go... when my own heart begins to wonder, what difference does it make?...

I remember an ordinary, unwed woman living in a run of the mill, inconsequential village who, with her “yes,” gave birth to the Son of God.

I remember a mother whose prayers and petitions for her son’s conversion, brought about a priest, an illustrious bishop, who is also a renowned Doctor of the Church.  

I remember a simple, honest man from Okarche, Oklahoma, who after failing his second year of seminary Theology, became a missionary for the faith—and eventually, a martyr—ministering the people of Santiago Atitlán, Guatemala.

I remember the miracles in my own life, the abundant moments of grace that come about when I humbly and faithfully get on my knees in prayer and examine, “am I doing my part?”

Yes, let there be peace on earth—and let it begin with me.

Our Lady Queen of peace,

pray for us sinners,

now and in the hour of our death.

why I miss anxiety

It’s just one word. But I notice it almost every day.

I miss “anxiety.”

The new English translation of the Roman Missal is not so new anymore. It was implemented in Catholic parishes across the country on the first Sunday of Advent 2011.

At our own parish, we were well prepared for the changes by our pastor who arranged very helpful homilies over several weeks—and even started using the new language two months early so that we could focus on Advent and not on whether we were getting the words “right.”

I found it helpful during the transition to keep in mind the responses we say in Spanish at Mass because the 2011 English translation parallels those Spanish responses much better than the previous one ever did.

Yet there is one point at Mass that still stalls me.

Right after we say the Our Father, the celebrant’s prayer that leads to the Sign of Peace now says:

Deliver us, Lord, we pray, from every evil,graciously grant peace in our days,that, by the help of your mercy,we may be always free from sinand safe from all distress,as we await the blessed hopeand the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

But prior to Advent 2011, we heard the celebrant say:

Deliver us, Lord, from every evil,
and grant us peace in our day.
In your mercy keep us free from sin
and protect us from all anxiety
as we wait in joyful hope
for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. 

There is nothing wrong with distress. But I genuinely miss anxiety. 

I found it intensely healing to hear a public pleading to our Father at every Mass that He may “protect us from all anxiety”!  

It felt like a public confession (yes, Lord, anxiety is our culture’s distinctive and horrible disease--and I personally struggle with it)—followed by a shared supplication for help (we count on and desperately need your protection, Lord!).

be at peace

Elenita, 2013

Year passes after year silently; Christ’s coming is ever nearer than it was. O that, as he comes nearer earth, we may approach nearer heaven! You have one work only: to bear your cross after him. Resolve in his strength to do so. Resolve to be no longer beguiled by ‘shadows of religion,’ by words, or by disputings, or by notions, or by high professions, or by excuses, or by the world’s promises or threats. Pray him to give you what Scripture calls ‘an honest and good heart,’ or ‘a perfect heart,’ and, without waiting, begin at once to obey him with the best heart you have. Any obedience is better than none… Every act of obedience is an approach—an approach to him who is not far off though he seems so, but close behind this visible screen of things which hides him from us. The day will come when he will rend that veil, and show himself to us… May this be the portion of every one of us! It is hard to attain it; but it is woeful to fail. Life is short; death is certain and the world to come is everlasting.”

~John Henry Newman (†1890)

Do not look forward to the changes and chances of this life with fear. Rather, look to them with full confidence that, as they arise, God to whom you belong will in his love enable you to profit by them. He has guided you thus far in life. Do you but hold fast to His dear hand, and He will lead you safely through all trials. Whenever you cannot stand, He will carry you lovingly in his arms. 

 Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same Eternal Father who takes care of you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day of your life. Either He will shield you from suffering or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. 

 Be at peace then, and put aside all useless thoughts, all vain dreads and all anxious imaginations.

~ Francis de Sales (†1622)

I have been obsessed all weekend with a song.

In all honesty, that’s not unusual for me. When a song or piece of music surprises me, especially from an unexpected source, I set it to play and I keep it on replay ad nauseum – usually wearing headphones – so that I can really listen and decipher what about it touches my heart.

Here’s what I’ve heard:

Made a wrong turn, Once or twice

Dug my way out, Blood and fire

Bad decisions, that's alright

Welcome to my silly life

You're so mean,
When you talk, about yourself, you were wrong.
Change the voices, in your head
Make them like you Instead.

The whole world stares so I swallow the fear,

The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer.

So cool in line and we try, try, try,

But we try too hard, it's a waste of my time.

Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
We change ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that?
(Why do I do that?)

Here’s a YouTube video of it:

Perfect promo NYC, acustic 

Tonight, as you go to sleep, may you hear God whispering in your ear what most of us never really believe:

Pretty, pretty please

Don't you ever, ever feel

Like you're less than less than perfect.

Pretty, pretty please

If you ever, ever feel

Like you're nothing

You are perfect to me.

~Lyrics to “Perfect” by P!nk 

[note: when you look it up, be sure to search for the “clean” version!]

back home, doing what is do-able

I arrived home from the Catholic Media Conference in Denver un poco enferma and very worn, so I’ve spent a couple of days in bed catching up on sleep, rest--and being awed by how much my holy trinity of grandchildren have grown while I was gone!

The day I came home from #CMC13, Saturday June 22^nd, marked ten years to the day since Pat and I finished walking the Camino de Santiago. I will put together soon one more blog post (or two?) to mark this great anniversary.

But for now, here’s an earlier blog post that you may not have seen yet, and I hope you'll enjoy:

Doing what is do-able

Every morning when I first wake up, there is a moment, an instant, really, when life is completely still, calm, peaceful. I don’t yet remember yesterday’s worries or today’s plans—but more importantly, I haven’t yet felt and evaluated the day, its work—or how my body feels. It only lasts a milli-second, a nano-second, a breath or two—but I turn to that moment often in prayer as a helpful reminder.

That moment of peace reminds me of what it feels like to bring no baggage with me into the day. No anticipating the work. No plans to rearrange.  No anxiety over how hard it will be, or how or what I will need to do to take care of it. No expectation and no regret. No super Girl Scout “be prepared” attitude. I just stand expectant, open to that moment and only to that moment.

This is what I hear Jesus saying to the Twelve when he directed them to “take nothing for the journey.” 

When you live with a chronic condition, especially one that involves pain, it is too easy to live as if I already know how terrible life is going to be. Like a gypsy reading the future, I look at the palm of my hand or the cards on the table and find strange comfort in anticipating the pain, preparing for the problems, holding the fear at bay with an attitude of readiness. This also provides me an illusion of control!

But Jesus urges me to let go and take none of that with me. He invites me to just walk into my day and into my life counting solely on the power of the authority of He who is my Lord.  I don’t even need to know how or if I’ll be able to do it well tomorrow. I only have to choose today to take nothing in my journey, and to trust Him with every detail of my life.  

No, it is not easy. But it is do-able.

Choose today, only today