This year for Lent, the Holy Father, Pope Leo, is asking us to “listen.” He says listening to the Word of God will train our ability to listen to the voices God wants us to hear, such as the cries of the poor and the marginalized, the sick and the suffering. I wasn’t sure how that worked but as I have been reflecting on it, the practice of Lectio Divina came to mind. In this prayer we aren’t just reading Scripture texts. we are “listening” with an open heart to any words or phrases that stand out to us as we read. We understand these as God’s words to us personally in that moment. So we prayerfully repeat them in our minds, pondering them in our hearts. Then we respond to what God is saying to us, replying to him. Then we rest in interior silence for a while. Then we go out and act on his Word.
If we learn and pray Lectio Divina regularly, it becomes the way we hear Scripture all the time. When it is read at mass, we will hear God speaking to us, even as we are aware of hearing his Word as community too. We will be attuned to him speaking and we automatically apply it to our lives without hesitation.
The Benedictines talk about “Lectio on Life,” This is being aware of how God is speaking to you in your daily life. He may speak in a song that comes on at the right moment, something you read or that someone says to you, even something you overhear from a stranger when you’re out and about. It can be a life event, even a small one, that stands out to you as symbolic or providential. I used to say, when something like that happened, “If this was a dream, what would it mean?” I said this because in the way we interpret the meaning of a dream, in the same way, could be done with something that really happened as well, drawing out its meaning.
What if we hear or see something happening around us, read about it or it comes to us in prayer, or keeps returning to our thoughts as we go about that day? We can use the same process of Lectio Divina to ponder it in our hearts, ask God what he is saying to us in this event or thing we heard during the day, respond to him about it, and go out and act on it. This could be noticing the young woman at the store putting her groceries back. It gets to you. Just in seeing that through God’s loving and merciful eyes as a person of prayer, you understand the message and you act on it. Ask her what’s going on, listen to her, and do something about her trouble. Maybe you can’t pick up her whole tab but when she tells you she was trying to get after school snacks for her kids before she picks them up, maybe you can at least get today’s snacks. Then thank God for the opportunity to see, hear and serve him. That’s just one quick way this could play out. Being in tune with God helps you notice her. Otherwise perhaps you wouldn’t have.
One of the things I am doing this Lent is staying away from the news during the week. I can always catch up at the end of the week. Like a lot of people I am hyper vigilant lately because of all the violence, chaos, suffering and injustice happening every day. I’m overwhelmed and so is everyone I talk to about it. What I am hoping for with backing off from the constant news is to use that time for silence and prayer. I also get to the point sometimes when my mind of cluttered up with all the things I am seeing, reading and hearing that I think the clutter interferes with real listening.
I want to listen to life and the people around me and allow God to raise the voices to me he wants me to hear. I am probably too overwhelmed to discern them now. I’m hoping God will sort me out during this gracious time of Lent. Going into the desert with Jesus is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes I having to skip or run to keep up with him but still, I am so ready to slow down and focus on him and what he wants to talk about or show me, or even if he just wants to hang out.
May the Lord open the ears of our hearts to hear him.
May the voices now “blurred by comfort” as Pope Leo said, and the faces we don’t see,
come into sharp relief for us
through our prayer, listening, fasting and almsgiving this Holy Lent,
Oh Jesus, “For your voice is sweet, and your face is beautiful.” (Song of Songs 2:14)
The church was dark and warm when I came in. I could hear sleepy children stirring in the corners, and see the shapes of people in the pews. I had missed the rosary but adoration would go on until late. The one light shone on the exposed Eucharist on the alter. I sat down in the back, then knelt to pray in the silence.
I noticed cantors were standing in a dimly lit alcove. One of them stood up and read something in Spanish that I thought was from the Gospel of John. I left off studying my Spanish this summer and I’ve already forgotten a lot but it sounded like something from that Gospel. I can’t remember what it was now. Jesus calming the waves? There were prayers. Something about children, loved ones, fear. The reader sounded not only somber but sad. They sang a Mexican hymn about walking with the Lord.
It sounds like any Adoration night in a Catholic Church. However I haven’t yet mentioned that the feeling as I came through the church doors was overwhelming sadness, an oppressive sorrow that was almost crushing. I can’t be sure that was what people there were feeling but if they were it would make sense.
This parish I was visiting is primarily Latino parish. We have had ICE here the last couple of weeks. We are not a big town. We used to be small but I suppose we’re medium now. Local TV has reported on where agents been sited, arrests they have made. Local police have made announcements telling us not to interfere with ICE. The popular news anchor has posted videos of ICE activity people have sent him. Unusually for this conservative bastion of a town, there have been school walk-outs, protests, prayer vigils, almost every day that ICE has been here.
Obviously this situation has caused stress for a lot of people. Nothing like in Minnesota. In fact I have only seen a couple of ICE agents in person, and one abandoned car with the doors open on the road.
I didn’t feel like trying to do any structural mental prayer. My mind was unusually clear and still. Making it do anything felt like introducing unnecessary clutter so I went with just sitting still, being conscious, being present.
As time went by I felt sorrow grow. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was all of us.
More prayers. I heard the phrases, “my heart,” and “your heart” several times. Another song about trusting God, I think. People came in, others left quietly, sleeping children over their shoulders. A boy came around with a box of LED votive lights. Soon there was one at the end of each pew, flickering like candles. The priest walked down the aisle checking on everyone. For me sorrow kept deepening. I began to feel an intense wreath of warmth around my heart.
Silence. More Scripture, more prayers. The trust and love they were expressing reminded me of our family’s attitude when my husband Bob had brain cancer. “Everything will be OK and even if it’s not OK it will be OK,” we used to say. In other words, “This is terrible and we have hope that it can end well. But no matter what has to happen, we will be with you, Lord, and we will always have you.”
They were live streaming the event; probably for anyone too ill to attend or too afraid to come to church or leave the house. I thought that the people in the church were probably not the ones who were especially targets. They were here to pray for everyone else. It would be likely that they are worried about someone they knew, a family member maybe.
I was likely the only white person there. I could have no idea what this community within my community was going through or what it was like to be them right now. This prayer vigil was a vigil for peace. It had been announced as a way to “put everything in God’s hands.” It struck me that the people I was sitting with likely did not have much they could do about the situation. All they had was God.
I felt such gratitude that they were letting me sit with them at the feet of Jesus even though I can’t possibly share what they were going through. I had that sense of astonishment that I was sitting among a persecuted people. Maybe some of them didn’t know what had happened to someone they loved, whether they were being tortured or starved or beaten, whether they were far away in a dangerous country, whether they would ever see that person again. It was one of those moments when I couldn’t believe this is my country.
I looked at the people around me again. “Jesus I know these are your people,” I prayed. “I will do whatever I can, whatever you ask me to do for them. Just make me able.” My eyes filled. “Thank you for letting me be with them tonight.“
After about an hour, which passed quickly, I left.
I talked to my daughter Roise about the sadness I felt. Was I right that there was sadness in the voices of the cantors and readers? Was I projecting a pleading sentiment onto them? Was it my feelings coming out?
Roise suggested that as Catholics we believe that we are the Body of Christ together. Especially in the Eucharist, we are one together, sharing everything. Maybe I was sensing their feelings or maybe I was just part of the Body of Christ feeling its pain. When one part suffers all the others do too.
We thought about it some more. “Imagine how sad Jesus is about all this.”
Neither of us had anything else to say after that.
St. Teresa of Avila compared a contemplative to a standard bearer for an army in battle. His job is to hold the banner of the Cross high so those in combat can see it above the chaos. Even if the standard bearer is cut to pieces, he has to make sure he never drops the guidon. As people of faith you may feel like that standard bearer sometimes. And you are. There is a lot of chaos and cruelty going on right now. As Catholics we believe in the dignity of the human person, in the sanctity of life. Anyone paying attention right now probably does feel cut to pieces. Anyone who believes in treating even the most guilty among us as children of God is bound to feel horrified on a daily basis as violence and hate gain ascendency in our collective conscience and experience.
One of my favorite bands in the 90ās was called Live. They had this great line from their song Run to the Water on their album The Distance to Here.
āBrother let your heart be wounded/and give no mercy to your fear.ā Iāve thought of it often as faith leaders begin to tell us to get our affairs in order in case we are called to martyrdom. Do I sound crazy? Do they?
ā¦ Adam and Eve live down the street from me
Babylon is every town
It’s as crazy as it’s ever been
Love’s a stranger all around.ā
St. Therese wrote about being a victim of love for Christ. She offered herself even should her commitment cause her great suffering, for his love and purpose.
ā In a moment we lost our minds here
And lay our spirit down
Today we lived a thousand years
All we have is now.ā
The Carmelite martyrs of Compiegne lived at a time that perhaps started with good aims but ended up being a terrible persecution and even a blood bath. They were executed one at a time. The nuns sang a Psalm the whole time as their voices grew thinner with each execution. They had known this day could come. They had been preparing for it in prayer, offering themselves up to God as a sacrifice for the Church, for an end to the killing during the French Revolution.
St. Teresa of Avila wrote that in some ways physical martyrs have it easier than we who live. āOne chop and itās all over.ā Life, though, she said, was āa long martyrdom.ā She said this because living in Christly love is not easy. Itās hard and not always accepted.
These days we most likely won’t be martyred because of our faith but for living it. Somebody said to me, āWe arenāt supposed to be the Church of Nice.ā No, I said, āWe are called to be the Church of radical LOVE.ā And thatās theā long martyrdomā for me right now, and maybe for you too.
The Prophet Elijah said, āThe Lord lives. I am standing in his presence.ā( 1Kings17:1) We may not be able to physically do much about the hatred and violence we see. However, like Elijah, we are witnesses to the presence of God. And we have to be brave. A lot of people donāt care about love right now. So we have to intensify our witness. How do we do that?
We have to remember that God loves the ICE agents every bit as much as he loves us. We have to remember that God loves the undocumented every bit as much as he loves us. We have to pray for our enemies and do good to them. If we donāt know how to do good to our enemy we can ask God to show us, to give us an opportunity if he wants us to do that. He will.
We do what we can nonviolently and legally do to stand up for the vulnerable, to protect our neighbors.
We have to root ourselves deep in the Lord so that all we do reflects him. Who is God? God is love. We have to reflect that love.
As St. Therese said, āMy vocation! At last I have found it! My vocation is love!ā She wrote, āIn the heart of the Church, my Mother, I shall be love.ā
We are not alone in love. God is with us, never to leave us; any of us.
“Run to the water And find me there Burnt to the core, but not broken We’ll cut through the madness Of these streets below the moon With a nuclear fire of love in our hearts
Yeah, I can see it now Lord Out beyond all the breakin’ of waves And the tribulation It’s a place and the home of ascended souls Who swam out there in love”
The subject tonight is Love And for tomorrow night as well, As a matter of fact, I know of no better topic For us to discuss Until we all Die!
Hafiz
Itās been my brother Markās birthday today. He would have been 56. (1970-2015) I was thinking about love and letting go. I actually donāt like the phrase āletting go.ā To me it sounds like sending someone away, like forgetting them. I hate that.
However somebody pointed out to me this morning that loosening my grip this Christmas on our family traditions, my ability to be more open to doing something new and allowing our Christmas to unfold in the new family we are, was a letting go. The fact that I was OK today on my brother’s birthday though a little sad at times, and that I was OK not doing anything in particular in his honor necessarily, was letting go.
That sounds a little scary for me but it’s alright. I am always afraid if I don’t try hard to remember and keep everything I know about them, I will forget the people I have lost. I really fear that. I donāt want them to be far away from me- like childhood friends whose names I canāt really remember anymore. I donāt want to let them go.
Then I thought about how love is a living thing. Love changes and grows as the people in the relationship do. Love is not static. It isn’t only in the past. Love isnāt diminished by change In fact love deepens as people adjust and sacrifice in the midst of and because of it they grow together and for one another.
The love between my brother and me is a living thing. Death has changed our situation drastically. Love has had to adjust and change and grow with that. But death canāt take away love. And maybe that is what it means to let go; when I donāt need to force anything to feel connected, or struggle to wrest back any little scrap death has left behind when it raided my family and took so many people away. Maybe letting go is to be able to trust that love just is and I can let it be itself.
My dad used to say that my brother probably loved me more than anyone on the planet loved anyone. What if I can trust that he still does? He always loved me just as I was. I loved him like that too.
I love my brother as he is right now, even not quite knowing what that is like to be him right now. When I get there with him I expect to love him even more. Death can’t do anything about that.
.So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
I shall pour clean water over you and you will be cleansed; I shall cleanse you of all your defilement and all your idols. I shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you; I shall remove the heart of stone from your bodies and give you a heart of flesh instead. I shall put my spirit in you, and make you keep my laws and sincerely respect my observances.
What I think about with this is how good it feels when God cleanses us from our nonsense so that we can see clearly, our conscience enlightened by his presence. In this world it is so difficult not to form idols of one kind or another, and so natural to harden our hearts. But this isn’t what God wants of us. We need new hearts that see and love as God does. We need to be set free of our tendency to worship all the wrong things. We think of God’s law as don’t do this, don’t do that but God’s law is always love. Jesus made that clear for all time especially when he gave his new commandment to love one another as he has loved us. We need his grace overflowing to even come close. Yet we have access to that grace. We just need to want it, ask for it, practice it as best we can. He will do the rest.Ā
I did try to keep up with St. Martha this Advent. After I spilled things, forgot to turn the oven on and knocked over the broom at exactly the wrong moment she gave me a talk about keeping things simple and achievable. āMaybe you should go for a walk.āĀ Everything turned out fine. It was simple and good and it was family. We even have a new baby this year to celebrate Christmas with. Mass was beautiful. Jesus has come to us. In the special grace of Christmas the morning star has risen in our hearts whatever we have been doing or feeling.Ā Now as these continuing days of the Christmas season stretch before us so does the special grace of this season which lasts until Baptism of the Lord.Ā Now that the dishes are done and St. Martha takes a well deserved nap, we can settle down with Jesus next to Marthaās sister Mary at the feet of Jesus who has been waiting.Ā Especially during the Octave (the first eight days after Christmas Day) letās challenge ourselves to spend time alone with Jesus daily.Ā Even just five minutes with him a day when our loving attention is all for him would do us a good and make him happy. Itās what he wants for his birthday.Ā
So take a few minutes. Set a timer for five. Ā Sit comfortably with your back relatively straight (so you donāt fall asleep) and quiet your heart. Maybe Baby Jesus is lying on your chest, warm and peaceful. Kiss his little fuzzy head now and then. If you start thinking of other things or worrying or your your mind whizzes off to other planets, say his Name. Just look at him and love him for these few minutes. Look at his little fingers and toes. Contemplate his sweet face as Our Lady did so often. You donāt have to think about anything. Just be there. Just love.Ā Ā
Mass was beautiful this morning and I got to read the second reading for āChristmas mass during the day.ā I loved this reading.
A Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews
In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets;
in these last days, he spoke to us through a son, whom he made heir of all things and through whom he created the universe,
who is the refulgence of his glory,
the very imprint of his being,
and who sustains all things by his mighty word.
When he had accomplished purification from sins,
he took his seat at the right hand of the Majesty on high,
as far superior to the angels
as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.
For to which of the angels did God ever say:
“You are my Son,
This day I have begotten you.”
Or again:
āI will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to meā?
And again, when he leads* the first-born into the world, he says:
āLet all the angels of God worship him.ā
I love mass at Christmas. Everyone smiles extra, whispering āmerry Christmasā to one another. All the incense and poetic antiphons and prayers, the extra beautiful church and Christmas music that catches at the heart, brings us into the moment. The realization that we are all in the manger now – in the physical as well as spiritual presence of Jesus as much as the shepherds and Mary and Joseph that day strikes me. Jesus is fully present in the Eucharist and we can adore and as Mary did, receive.
Outside was an unhoused gray haired man alseep on a bench across the street. And there was Jesus again. Right here. Right now. I had seen him as I looked for s parking spot. I didnāt have any money on me. I didnāt want to disturb his sleep to ask him what else he might need. All I could do was offer my reception of the Eucharist for him and pray for him at mass.
By the grace of Christmas I ask that I will get another chance to help him in some way, and that when he wakes up someone will surprise him by filling a need of his, or giving him a gift he likes or a hug- or invites him over for Christmas dinner. Emanuel ; God is with us in a special way on this Christmas Day.
This evening I am thinking of going over to visit the Holy Family, maybe bring them some of these cookies.
Maybe Mary is still learning to breastfeed Jesus, straw in her hair, blanket over her shoulder. Maybe Joseph is out looking for something for her to eat, or hurrying back. He can’t wait to see them. He is so excited and in awe. He thinks how he will always protect them and how amazing it is that he gets to be with them for the rest of his life and care for them. He can still hardly believe it.
Come and catch him at the door, give him a big hug. Let him lead you to his, to our, greatest Treasure, held in Mary’s arms.
It’s been an eventful year for us, with its triumphs and its various ups and downs, just as everyone has. My youngest, Roise, graduated college from Sam Houston State and began the graduate program she wanted where she is doing great. My eldest, Maire, just had a new baby we are all crazy about. Valor is a wide eyed baby with a lopsided smile and a face that looks more “finished” than the faces of babies usually do. My other three grandchildren, Arelani, Blaze and Brazos, have become funnier, more creative and smarter even than they used to be. Or maybe it is that I am listening better. I enjoy them very much. Arelani is into crafts, science, fixing things, and putting things together with a box of parts, a couple tools, and an instruction manual. I don’t understand that at all. She makes the most ingenious things. She makes me laugh every day.
Blaze and Brazos are into running around out in the country, climbing trees, hauling beaches for their mom, filling their pockets with rocks, that sort of thing. The boys and I have a routine of reading from the series Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and watching The Hoof GP together. That last one I don’t understand either. But we like it. They will cuddle up to me and watch it. It’s a You Tube show from a Scottish Hoof Trimmer. There is just something fascinating about it. They are the sweetest little boys.
My dad turned 75 this year. and I turned 58. We are growing old together. He was just a kid when he had me. He and my step mom take good care of themselves and I fully expect them to live forever.
My new book, Meeting the One Who Loves you; the way of prayer of St. Teresa of Avila was released this summer. I hope it does what St. Teresa and Jesus want it to do for its readers, and gets into the hands of people who are supposed to read it. I try not to worry about how it’s doing. My last one did so well I worry my new book baby won’t get as much attention. But I only need to trust it will do what God wants it to do.
My young dog, Daisy, died suddenly this summer. We still don’t know why. I think it was a killer bee. (We saw some under our car port). The vet couldn’t save her. We all miss Daisy. Our other dog, Joey certainly misses her. However, we are recovering well. I haven’t decided whether to get another friend for Joey. He looks bored in the back yard without her.
I planted a couple of vegetable gardens- something new to me this year.
Roses I am used to and I planted more of those too. I always will plant more roses. I want this place covered in a wild, lovely tangle. I have a dying elm tree in my front yard. It’s sad. However, I planted an Old Blush climber next to it. I plan for it to wrap around it, for rose laden vines to hang down from its branches. Then it will be a rose tree. I have done that before at the house I raised my kids in and it looked like fairy land. It smelled amazing too.
We almost lost one of the young special needs guys I take care of this year. Mac got pneumonia which is very dangerous for him. Unbelievably he made it through and has even recovered far more than we thought possible for him. He is doing great. I thank God for this all the time.
I started a new second job this year too, for another young’n with special needs. I pick him up after my first job and spend the evening with him. He’s fun and I have loved getting to know his sweet family.
I have read plenty of books this year as always. I don’t know how many. But since I read a book about every 4-7 days I suppose it would make quite a stack. I’ve developed and interest in T. Kingfisher books and the like. I read one after another.
I’ve lost myself in lots of music. I found plenty of new stuff I am happy with exploring. There is still plenty of weird, interesting music out there, and people still create plenty of beauty. Of course I still love the Cocteau Twins and Dead Can Dance. And hey “King’s X forever!” I still make coffee and listen to jazz every day at 2pm. I mostly like hard bop and straight ahead jazz. And sometimes you just need Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday.
Sometimes you need something fun and different.
I still have chickens, though those traitors spend most of their time at the next door neighbor’s house. They are an elderly couple and they love the chickens so it’s alright. They still come home too. I love having them around, scratching and pecking and being hilarious in the yard. They are Clementine, a crazy game hen, and Jewel, a fat brown hen. They are friends with a wild guinea in the neighborhood who lost its mate. So now it hangs out with my chickens. Its name is either Fred or Lola. I can’t tell which one the remaining one is. However it was lonely so I am glad it hangs around.
My cats are relaxed and happy. Every time I open the door, one is coming in or going out. Whatever they want to do. Presently there are three sleeping on my bed. I have three orange girls; a mother and two of her daughters. These are Annie, the mom, and Dia and Buttercup (don’t blame me my granddaughter named her Princess Buttercup). My daughter has Frankie, a temperamental black cat with beautiful green eyes.
I had a great birthday this year. I felt very loved by family and friends. Plus, I told my friends I wanted a pie in the face at my birthday dinner and they actually did it! It was so funny. I also have been wanting to start a “Little Free Library” in front of my house and my friends made it happen! On my birthday night Maire and I and the kids went to see my youngest daughter, Roise, play and sing with her band, The Fragments, over at Black Water Draw. We had a great time; great music and kids running in circles around our table, us handing the baby around, everybody happy. I love that.
I visited the major relics of St. Therese this year with my youngest daughter and my granddaughter. I have thought a lot about how I felt about that. I wrote about it too. But when I look back at it I think what comes through is how little I felt, how I could see all my wounds in a general way, and that I was seen by God and I was OK. I also felt my love for Therese and that was overpowering to me. I don’t feel a lot of big feelings these days. And I never cry even when I do feel them. That day I did both and I was kind of surprised. I’m glad too.
I also gave a talk at Little Flower Basilica in San Antonio this Advent on The Prayer of Recollection. I think it went well. I gave a handout to everyone there to take home and practice the prayer even if they didn[t have the book yet. I took them through a brief guided version of the prayer. I made my dumb jokes. š
As we get ready for Christmas this year, I notice I feel different than I usually do. Christmas is a mixed bag for me as it is for most people- especially for us who have lost people we loved. I’ve kind of hated Christmas. As a neuro-divergent person, the executive function that appears to be required is overwhelming for me. It’s not even a lot but it totally freaks me out. I see the lovely things other people do for their friends and neighbors. Sometimes I can do some of that stuff and sometimes I can’t. I get really scared of forgetting someone. I worry about what to get or what to do.
And there is grief that comes up of course.
It used to be very important, after losing almost everyone I always spent Christmas with except my kids, that I keep up traditions we always had when I was raising my daughters. This is the first year I have kind of let Christmas happen. I usually have my daughters and my kids over to decorate the tree and make cookies. The kids love this. But I also do Advent candle lighting and prayers, and there is a certain order of me putting the star up at the end and us singing “I want to walk as a child of the Light.” when the tree is finished. We have always listened to Dead Can Dance’s album, “Aion” when we decorate the tree.
This year I was working and when I got home everyone was here. They already had music; traditional and pop Christmas songs on. They had the boxes of decorations out from the garage. Everyone was happy. We decorated the tree randomly. Some things I always put up first, almost in a ritual manner because they were my mom’s or from my first married Christmas. I didn’t do that. I put the delicate ones up and let everyone do whatever. Brazos wanted to put the star on the tree so my daughter Maire lifted him up and let him. I quietly lit the Advent wreathe while everyone was talking. Maire smiled at me from across the table. It was good. I just let Christmas happen.
Christmas Eve I’ll make enchiladas, beans and rice as I usually do. Maire is bringing the drinks. And Christmas will happen.
I look forward to the sense of tenderness I eventually know when things quiet down after mass and the candles are blown out. That’s when I think the morning star rises in our hearts, whatever we may be feeling. It still does. Jesus is here. He comes no matter what. And we can let that happen.
I dreamed of Our Lady of Guadalupe years ago; maybe many years ago but I still remember. I was in a church I had never been in before but in the dream it was familiar. I was praying in front of a beautiful image Our Lady of Guadalupe that seemed alive in some way. The church was fairly dark, mass not having begun. There were people scattered in the pews praying and waiting.
An old man in a middle pew started talking loudly about how there were too many (insert slur for Latinos here) in the Church and we needed to “get them all out of here.” He went on and on about this. I felt such horror that he would speak this way at all but especially in the Church. I looked back at him, then back at the image of Our Lady and noticed it was smoldering in the corner and the burnt part was spreading. I ran to the man and begged him to stop. “Please Sir, don’t speak like that! Please! Not in this holy place!”
I don’t remember anything else about that dream, though I think I may have asked the angry old man to come outside with me and talk about it there.
Given what’s going on now though I wonder if it was kind of a warning or a premonition.
Today on her Feast, as Queen of the Americas, I pray for an end to the violent hatred and rage toward her Latino children living in the U.S., and end to the hateful speech, the cruelty and disregard toward them. In this holy place, this temple of the hearts of men and women, let there be love and respect, humility and understanding.
I promise to help you, Mother Mary, to pray and intercede for your immigrant children in my country.
I associate you as Our Lady of Guadalupe with love and protection, compassion for all who weep, solidarity with the lowly, conversion of heart and reconciliation between people who were once enemies. God has entrusted the Americas to you. Mother of Tepayak, of roses given in winter snow, you choose the little ones the world disregards to speak to us all and reveal to us your sweet face, your presence, your love.
Allow us to bring you the roses of dedication and celebration. Remain with us now as evening draws near. Tell us the story of Jesus, your Son.
Bethany Hang Out 