Saturday, May 27, 2017
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Last night at the Easter Vigil, I had the privilege of accompanying two friends (a married couple) who became Catholics. I had not known them prior to becoming involved in RCIA, so I was completely surprised and touched when they asked me if I would be their sponsor! No one has ever done that before, and--as a convert myself--this was very meaningful for me!
The Baptisms were first. All were asked by Father to give their assent to the Creed, which was very moving. In a few moments, Alice stepped down into the pool and knelt in the water so that Father could pour the blessed water over her with silver pitcher: it was so dramatic, so beautiful! I helped her up out of the Baptismal pool and escorted her to the Reconciliation Room, which had been designated as her place to change her clothes, and put on the Baptismal garment. When she came out, we embraced for a long time, and I spontaneously gave her the blessed Eucharist medal I was wearing, which was a memento of my own First Communion in 1981. I loved putting it around her neck!
After all the Baptisms, Father went on to the Sacrament of Confirmation, which both Alice and her husband were receiving. As I stood behind them, I could not stop the tears of joy, as the full force of what was happening in their souls came down on me, recalling for me the blessed day when I received this Sacrament at the hands of my beloved Fr. Flaherty.
Nothing else that ever happens in our lives can transcend the exquisite significance of this event, when we are accepted into Christ's own Church, the Church He established on earth 2,000 years ago, and which has withstood every attempt to bring it down--and there have been many. It will stand until He returns in glory to bring us home. No matter what happens to me, I will always cling to my Faith; last night, I was praying that Alice and Albert will also.
Blessed be God forever!
Friday, April 14, 2017
At first, you will think it's odd that I am posting about buying a house in my Catholic Journey blog. I am writing about it, because I believe it is another miracle that God has given me.
I can't stand living with my parents anymore: the house is too messy, but my mother doesn't care and refuses to hire anyone to clean. So, I have been praying that I could find a place to rent that is very close to them, because they are in their 90s, and I need to be able to watch over them.
Every place I tried to rent fell through: they decided to rent to relatives... I was too late... no cats allowed... not all on one floor (arthritic knees!).
A week ago Tuesday (April 4th), I came out of my parents' house to go somewhere, and I saw a man clipping the hedges in front of the house next door. Things looked a little odd there, so when he stood up, I said, "Did Christopher move out?" He told me yes, and I immediately said: "Please rent me this house!" He replied that his wife owns it, and she wants to sell. They live so far away, he said, they no longer want to deal with owning rental property. I begged him: "Do you think she might change her mind? Please give her my contact information!" --which he reluctantly accepted.
That night, as I was praying... and thinking about it... I wondered: "Would it even be possible for me to get a mortgage, since I will not live long enough to pay it off--do banks even do that?" Thinking I had nothing to lose, I decided to go to my bank the next day (Wednesday) after Mass to ask.
The bank officer was very positive, and soon I was on the phone with their mortgage guy in Marietta. After some "screening" questions, he said he'd email me a list of the documents I would need to get an application started. I went home, gathered them, sent them, and in about an hour, I had a pre-qualified letter! I told him my whole story--he was very kind--turns out, he attends St. Ann's Catholic Church in Marietta! He also told me that because the house is priced below $150K, I needed to tell them I was interested immediately, because there would be at least 3 or 4 offers the first week it was listed!
I looked up the owner's name on the Carroll County Property Tax website, but could not find a phone number for her, so I wrote a short letter, which I mailed the next day. That was Thursday.
When I got home from Mass on Thursday, there they were in the driveway, leaving: I was in exactly the right place at the right time! I called out to her: "I want to buy your house!" She responded, "Come in and take a look!" So, they turned around, unlocked the door, and we went in.
I could not believe how beautiful it is: this was supposed to be their "forever home" for retirement, so they had gutted it and replaced EVERYTHING with the best money could buy. New wiring, new plumbing, new roof, new windows, new ductwork (!), hardwood floors, remodeled bath and kitchen (including a walk-in pantry), a real fireplace, one of those fancy gourmet gas stoves (like Viking or Jenn-Air, that type--I had never even seen one before, except in ads), a deluxe side-by-side stainless steel refrigerator with the ice and water dispensers in the door, custom lighting, custom granite countertops... you name it, they did it.
Ten minutes later, we made a deal... and the next day (Friday), I signed a purchase contract. The house was never actually listed for sale: the only people who knew it was on the market was them, and me.
No one will ever convince me that God did not do this for me.
(Note: mortgage approved yesterday, appraisal is tomorrow. If it appraises at or above the offer price, we are closing April 24th.)
4/19/17 Update: appraisal came in right on the money! Closing rescheduled for April 28th... Blessed be God forever!
Thursday, April 13, 2017
Lord Jesus, Redeemer of all, hear my prayer.
For the love You bear to those who ask forgiveness,
look mercifully on me,
as You looked on Mary Magdalene
and on Peter who denied You.
Look on me, Lord Jesus Christ,
as You looked on the thief on his cross,
and on every sinner
whom You have ever forgiven.
Look on me, merciful Lord,
as You looked on Your mother, Mary,
standing in sorrow beneath Your cross.
Let me feel in my heart
her compassion for You,
and let my eyes weep
for the sorrow my sins have caused.
Call me from the darkness
to my Father's house,
give me a new heart
and a place at Your side in Eternity.
My God, I believe, I adore,
I trust, and I love You!
I trust, and I love You!
I beg pardon for those who do not believe,
do not adore, do not trust,
and do not love You.
do not adore, do not trust,
and do not love You.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
I registered to attend a session of Vincentian University, being held today at St. Gabriel's Church in Fayetteville GA. I had to leave very early in the morning, so the sun was just coming up on a beautiful Spring day when I left home.
As I was driving down South Fulton Parkway, my mind unexpectedly turned to the astonishing fact that here I am--70 years old now--and I am a Catholic! What I wanted so much when I was a child, finally, thanks to the grace of God, did happen! And no matter what else I have done in life, or will do, the essential fact about me--the most important thing to know about me--is that I am a Catholic. It is my core identity.
I confess that I started to weep, as I recalled with overwhelming gratitude all the ways in which God kept calling me until I finally answered Him. I have written about these events in this blog before, so I won't repeat them, but I am continually in awe when I think how totally loved I am--and I can't understand why He kept waiting for me through all those long, miserable years.
As I drove along, I suddenly realized that the GPS on my phone was leading me on a route I had not traveled in over 30 years: straight through Fairburn, where stood the church in which I had been Confirmed and received my First Holy Communion: St. Matthew's, a parish which has since relocated to a new and larger building in Tyrone GA. At that moment, I was hurrying to get to St. Gabriel's on time, but I was very excited to see, as I passed through town, that it is still there. I knew that on the way home that day, I had to stop and see it once again.
It is now some kind of Black Protestant church in a denomination I've never heard of, but I drove into the lot behind the building (which was a funeral home before it became St. Matthew's), to see if I could get in. From the pickup trucks I saw, I knew there were workmen around, but I didn't see anyone, so I brazenly walked right in the unlocked back door... a door to which, thanks to Father Flaherty, I once had a key, and entered often. Sadly, I could see evidence that people had tried several times to break into the building: it's not quite as safe and serene in Fairburn as it was when I was last there, 31 years ago.
The inside seemed familiar, and yet not familiar--there have been some renovations --but I knew the direction in which I needed to go in order to reach the Nave and Sanctuary, and I finally got there.
Except for our altar and beautiful crucifix being gone, it looks much as I remembered it. Next is a picture of the spot where I used to kneel to pray at the back of the church. I always stayed back there, because Father Flaherty was often praying in the tiny Blessed Sacrament chapel to the left of the altar, and I did not want to intrude on his privacy (in those days, the Tabernacle could not be kept behind the altar as it is in the church I attend now).
I then walked to the front and up the 2 steps to where our altar used to be, and stopped in the same place where I stood on that beautiful Saturday morning, December 5, 1981, when Father received me into the Church. I remember everything about it--exactly what I was wearing: a cream-colored wool skirt with a brown velvet jacket and a cream-colored satin blouse with ruffles in the front--but especially how nervous and excited I was, to finally be receiving what I had been longing for: the Holy Eucharist!
I stayed in that sacred spot for a few minutes, to say a prayer of thanksgiving to God for His incredible gift... and then I left, greeting one of the workmen, who did not question who I was or why I was there. I think he would have been very surprised, had he known how much meaning that humble little building has for me!
Sunday, January 15, 2017
I am sure that all people who reach a certain spiritual level, come to this understanding of human suffering--but amazingly, despite my advanced age, I am only just now realizing this: God allows everyone to have a certain amount of suffering--and to reach His Kingdom, we must willingly embrace it, if we wish to be perfect. Not conquer it, but embrace it, just as Jesus embraced his suffering on the Cross.
For some, it might be a life of material poverty. For others, it is physical illness or some kind of disability, or a person who never finds their soulmate and maintains a life of chastity despite their own deep desires. Perhaps it's the loss of someone that a person loved so much, life seems unbearable without them. It could be the misfortune of being born in a country which has great economic or civil strife, such that they experience the stress and uncertainty of immigration or becoming a refugee, leaving behind a homeland that should have been their safe haven.
It doesn't matter what it is: there are a million varieties of human suffering, but all have one thing in common: if you are so much in love with God that you wish to be perfect, then "deny yourself, take up your Cross and follow Me." (Matthew 16:24-26)
Understanding this--at last!--has been an incredible liberation for me, because it explains and justifies what is wrong with this world: it's the one thing that makes everything else make sense. All my life, I have felt guilty (for example), that I am not poor... that I am not disabled... that I live in the United States instead of somewhere else--and I am freed of that guilt now! They have their suffering, and I have mine: and it is all according to His plan. Nevertheless, this knowledge does not absolve us from doing everything we can to relieve suffering wherever we find it!
The challenge, of course, is the embracing part, because it's human nature to want to avoid suffering. And so, most of us spend a great portion of our lives struggling to escape from our suffering, not realizing that the only true freedom comes with acceptance, with offering our suffering to God in union with Jesus Christ. This is a mystical concept that not everyone "gets," but I am absolutely convinced that it is true.
Friday, January 13, 2017