Shawn Rain Chapman

St. Nicholas, Friend of Children and of the Poor, Master of Sneaky Good Deeds

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I wanted Santa to be real to my daughters forever, not only when they were small, but always. I accomplished this by teaching them about the original Santa Klaus, St. Nicholas, Friend of Children and of the Poor, Master of Sneaky Good Deeds.

As a Saint he is forever accessible to us who believe. Very useful in this Santa catechesis was the little movie, Nicholas, the Boy Who Became Santa.* My girls loved it and they watched it over and over and so did the neighborhood kids who were always at our house. The movie shows the boy Nicholas giving away his things to the poor, buying slaves their freedom, sneaking food and gifts to children and the poor in the middle of the night, always remaining anonymous.

St. Nicholas, who had an intense devotion to the Christ Child and a special love for children, became a bishop in what is now Turkey. He was persecuted by the Romans who burned down his church and arrested him. He spent years in prison, even sharing his bread and water with his fellow prisoners who weren’t particularly nice to him. Eventually he was set free and was able to re-join his fellow Christians.

I incorporated devotion to St. Nicholas into our family celebration of Advent and Christmas, having the girls write him a letter on his feast day, Dec. 6 ( a letter in return for which, he always left some simple treats, some change,and possibly some glitter.) They would write to St. Nicholas about what they wanted him to pray for them about in their lives. I always had them include three virtues they wanted him to obtain from God for them. (This is where The Family Virtues Guide came in handy.)** Some of these letters the girls wrote were very beautiful and of course some were hilarious!

During the course of Advent and the Christmas season, we would attempt to imitate St. Nicholas by doing sneaky good deeds as much as we could. One year I remember we put a bunch of Christmas roses in our red wagon and stayed up late, going out to leave roses and glitter or some toys for the kids at each house on our street. As people did in honor of St. Nicholas after his death, we sometimes left a note that said, “St. Nicholas.” As you can imagine, this was great fun.

Of particularly fond memory is a Christmas we drove around to houses

where people struggled with poverty. I remember how we silently giggled as we sprinkled glitter all over porches, leaving presents and food and red rose petals. We laughed about it on the way home in the car.

The girls understood that in this way we were being helpers of St. Nicholas just like anybody is when they give sneaky gifts in honor of Jesus’ birthday the way St. Nicholas did. So my kids transitioned slowly to understanding that the adults in their family did this same thing for them each Christmas… as helpers of St. Nicholas who loved the Christ child, loved children and the poor. So that’s how it all worked! However he stayed real to them as a Saint and a friend. The legend could grow up with the kids.

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This was a very good way to learn what Christmas gifts are about, and who Santa really is. Sometimes there were challenges, however.

One Christmas morning, my wide eyed little girls ran in the back door yelling, “MAMA! St. Nicolas SMOKES! And he DRINKS, TOO!”

My dad and brother had been over in the middle of the night, helping St. Nicholas with a trampoline in the back yard for the girls. Apparently they had left cigarette butts and a few beer bottles around as well.

Looking at my daughters, I tried not to laugh. No laughing. I had to think.

I thought of several possible answers in the midst of their shocked clamor.

It was the helpers? Should I bring elves into this? It’s Christmas, give Santa a break? It was Uncle Mark and Grandaddy? (No, not that, not yet.)

I looked down at their horrified little faces and shrugged.

“Well! Now we know what to leave St. Nicholas on Christmas Eve from now on instead of the hot coco and cookies. Next time we will leave him cigarettes and a beer!”

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Advent Activity: Go out and do a sneaky good deed in honor of St. Nicholas and of the Christ Child. Cigarettes and beer are entirely optional.

*https://www.cccofamerica.com/?portfolio=nicholas-the-boy-who-became-santa

** http://www.virtuesproject.com/family.html

December 6, 2018 1

Christmas Shopping with Jesus

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“When Black Friday comes,
I’m gonna dig myself a hole,
I’m gonna lay down in it ‘till I satisfy my soul.”
-Steely Dan

The Advent Season is at the same time as the Shopping Season. I wish it wasn’t so. I wish, when December comes, that I could spend my Advent and Christmas as a hermit instead.

I would probably miss my brother though.

I told Jesus how much this time of year stresses me out.

There is so much to do and the whole soundtrack of Advent is Christmas music when it isn’t Christmas. They play and play those Christmas songs everywhere you go, and by the time Christmas comes I don’t even want to hear Joy to the World ever again.

I hate shopping, even on line.

I am prone to mall nausea.

Jesus listened in silence. He is good at that.

He has been helping me pack, since I am in the middle of moving.

“Can’t we just trick all the stores by moving Christmas to some other time?”

He sat back on his heels, smiling at me. “Let’s go shopping.”

“What, right now?”

But he was already putting on his shoes. Which means I had to put on mine, too.

He wanted to go to Wal-mart. I hate that place. But I drove him there.

There was a lot of traffic, and some people were not driving in their right minds. I growled at them, but I said, “God bless you, have a nice day,” because what else can you say with that guy around?

When we arrived, he wanted to sit in the parking lot and hold my hand for a while.

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So we held hands sitting in the car. I looked at him sometimes, and sometimes I watched the people going by. So many of them were smiling, though many seemed pre-occupied. People handed each other carts, stepped aside for the elderly, grinned conspiratorially at the children, many of whom were skipping or jumping up and down. Parents looked at each other over their children’s heads and laughed.

I thought about how even in the midst of the over commercialization of the season, it is true that people seem to treat each other with a little more kindness. Maybe there is something to the magic of the season after all. It’s Jesus coming out in people at his special time of year.

Jesus said his mom always took him shopping when she went, that he loved going with her.

I thought about that.

We always think of Mary’s pregnancy during Advent. She was filled with Jesus. She took him everywhere. From what Elizabeth said at the Visitation, his presence could be felt in her. I imagined Mary, very big and pregnant, doing the shopping, smiling, knowing.

Jesus squeezed my hand. “Let’s go.”

At the front doors, he made sure I donated to the Salvation Army, and reminded me to thank the bell ringer for being out there.

He drew me into conversation with some little boys who were raising money for their team, prompting me to ask questions that seemed to please them.

We walked through the tinseled Wal-Mart, noticing people and blessing them. He pointed out to me the ones who were tired or worried or sad, and had me pray for them. He showed me examples of people being kind to one another across the usual social boundaries we rarely think about and seldom disregard. I began to kind of almost like Wal-mart.

I bought some dog food and we silently blessed all the people in the check out line; especially the young mother with the crying baby and fussy toddler, the cashier who looked as if she had worked a double, and the old man who counted his change out so slowly and then did it again.

I felt happy.

But then Jesus said that the mall was next.

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Bother.

Yep, there was that Christmas music. He smiled, I noticed. He said he likes Christmas music all the time.

It was crowded in the mall and I was almost instantly over stimulated. He patted me on the back.

He thought I should try smiling from the heart at everyone I saw.

This simple exercise had an amazing curative effect on my nerves.

I started seeing possible gifts my daughters might like a lot. I even started to feel a little excited. I walked a little faster. I thought how easy to please both my daughters are, and how much I love them.

As we made our way through the mall, Jesus reminded me to say a kind word to everyone I interacted with, even to go out of my way to compliment people. I was surprised how much this little effort brightened people’s faces, and mine, too.

He wanted to go into a store that looked really glitzy to me. I dislike places like that. They make me feel ridiculous.

Sure enough when we stepped across the threshold, I noticed the hole in the toe of my shoe, became conscious of the eccentric bent and general sloppiness of my clothes, the fact that I have not worn make up in years.

Looking at all those expensive beauty products on mirrored surfaces, all those swanky clothes, the fashion show music, the fast pace, being surrounded by the fashionable and well dressed, made me unusually self conscious. Then I was annoyed at myself for caring.

Jesus pinched me. Because in my self absorption, I had not noticed a teenaged girl whose bag had come open on the bottom. Her items fell and rolled across the slick, polished aisle and under clothes racks, scattering hopelessly. People stepped over her things, or avoided her or stared at her, but nobody was helping her and she was embarrassed, as teens tend to be.

I helped her find everything, even getting on my hands and knees and crawling under hanging coats, smiling because it reminded me of hiding from my mom in stores as a kid.

All her things restored to her, and a new bag procured, the embarrassed teen was on her way, hopefully feeling a little better, and thinking of what was for dinner.

On our way out, Jesus and I passed one of those triple mirrors that help you see your new outfit from every angle. As I walked by, I saw an unexpected flash of color and retraced my last two steps. I saw myself in a golden dress with bracelets on my arms, rings on my fingers, and gold sandals on my feet, a small crown on my head. I laughed as the vision faded, and the voice in my ear said, “This is how you look, to ME.” I closed my eyes in sheer joy.

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When I opened my eyes, he had slipped away. He must have gone to help someone else so I got into the car alone, knowing he had his own ride home.

At a very busy intersection I saw him standing on a corner holding one of those signs saying that he was hungry, and would someone please help.

I hate when he stands on a corner where I can’t get to him unless I go to the next exit and turn around and almost get in a wreck trying to help him. But I did it anyway. I even gave him a hug along with the money. He patted me and said, “God bless you.”

Back in my car, I turned on the radio. Matt Maher was singing “Alive Again” and it made me cry a little bit.

“You called and You shouted
Broke through my deafness
Now I’m breathing in and breathing out
I’m alive again

You shattered my darkness
Washed away my blindness
Now I’m breathing in and breathing out
I’m alive again”

I understand. The spirit of Advent, Lord, is in listening to you, noticing you, and spending time with you in the ways you lead me to, loving in all the ways the world around me offers… even in shopping and going to Wal-Mart and the mall.

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I originally wrote this in 2014. It appeared on ATX Catholic and also in my newspaper column at Bryan Eagle. 🙂

November 29, 2018 5

The unbroken unity of love: praying with and for the dead

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November is the month the praying Church dedicates to remembrance of the dead. As one whose life has been especially marked by death and grief, my prayer with and for the dead is an important part of my spiritual life. However, my devotion tends more toward relationship than specific set prayers for them, though I pray those too at times.

I had not thought of it until I set out to write this post, but there are many things I do that weave my sense of loving relationship with the dead into my every day.

Some of them are, the way I pray Evening Prayer in the cemetery when I get a chance,

the way my daughters and I make the sign of the cross when we drive over the bridge where my first husband’s fatal accident happened,

the way I wear my wedding ring still (on my right hand now,)

the way I always make enough coffee for two even though I am alone (it’s for my husbands.)

I love telling stories about my granny, and sharing my mom’s pithy wisdom with people.

I have a habit of lightly touching certain family pictures on my way up the stairs.

I often whisper the names of my beloved dead at mass.

I light candles for them in church or at home.

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I make their favorite foods on their birthdays and my family does special things on the anniversaries of their deaths.

I often play their favorite music and go places they loved in memory of them on special days.

In honor of my mom, I re-read books we loved to read aloud together. My mom is part of every good meal I cook, every rose I appreciate, every fragrant bunch of herbs I gather.

I ask their advice about things they were good at, and it seems the right thought or answer usually comes to me. When I ask one of them to help me about something, it seems to me that they do.

I invite people I love who have died to pray the rosary with me, and I often ask one or more of them to join me in a novena I am praying, especially if it is to a saint they loved, or for a cause or person they especially cared about.

My mom loved the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I always invite her to pray it with me.

I never leave the cemetery without praying a Hail Mary with and for each of my husbands. I tell them I love them. I say, “Be blessed, and pray for us.” If my daughters are with me, they do this, too.

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When I pray with my husbands in mind, I always pray for their intentions. I know those guys so well, and I know they are not just sitting around doing nothing. I know they are busy doing good for us who still struggle on earth. Like everyone else there, I think they have heavenly ministries.

My youngest daughter likes to take her guitar to the cemetery and sing for her dads. I like imagining how much they both must love her doing that.

Acts of love and service in honor of the dead are a beautiful prayer. That is one way we honor my second husband, Bob, that is particularly appropriate given the way he lived his life. We try to do acts service in his honor all day on his birthday.

I am sure there are many things like this that you also do, Reader, to honor your dead, and to continue the relationship with them on a spiritual level.

I talk to my husbands and my mom all the time. I know other people have told me they do things like this. This, too, is prayer. We are in communication with Heaven.

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Often, as people get to know my family, they remark on how we talk about my husbands as if they were still alive. Well, they are. They are part of us. And if the Kingdom of Heaven is within us, then all our beloved dead are within us, too, alive, right here.

As my second husband, Bob, wrote, referring to my first husband, Marc Blaze, “His picture will always hang on our wall, his name will be mentioned around our table, and his ring will always be on her finger.”

There are stories in my family, and among our friends, of times we felt that my granny, Marc Blaze, Bob, my mom, or my brother, responded in some way to us or made their presence known in some small way that someone who loved them would not miss. I have heard a lot of stories like that from other families, too; simple stories and a few really wild ones that make you wonder how anyone could give any credence to the theory that earthly life is all there is. These are experiences of the Communion of Saints.

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Heaven seems to be near, very near us. Maybe we just have to pay attention to notice when it speaks to us. That paying attention is prayer, too.

I have heard a lot of people talk about meaningful dreams they have had that were deeply impressed on their hearts; dreams that were like visits from those they loved who have died. I have these dreams too sometimes.

In one numinous dream, I was running up beautiful stairs that led into the night sky. I was surrounded by stars, my heart filled with joy. I was reciting the Divine Praises as I ran up and up the steps. My second husband, Bob, was standing on a landing above me holding a cup of coffee, smiling radiantly. It was a very vivid, healing dream. Dreams that come from God are a form of receptive prayer, I think.

A few days before the car accident that killed my first husband, Marc Blaze, he wanted us to say our wedding vows to each other then and there. So we knelt where we stood, and repeated our vows to one another before God.

Then he said, “Shawn, if anything happens to me, if God lets me, I’ll be with you.” He squeezed my hands, saying, “But no matter what, we’ll always be together in the Eucharist.”

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That’s it, isn’t it? The Church on Earth, the Church in Purgatory, The Church in Heaven; we are all together in the Eucharist, in the Communion of Saints, in the Heart of God, in our prayer for and with each other. Because of God’s mercy, because of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, love is stronger than death. The living and the dead love one another, honor one another, help one another.

I ran across this prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours.

May the dead rest in eternal peace, — may their union with us be strengthened through the sharing of spiritual goods. Bless your people, Lord.

Maybe we don’t usually think about strengthening our union with the dead, or sharing spiritual goods. But these are the words of the Church. This is what we do. And God blesses us.

Do not forget that I am your sister and I will never cease praying for you. ~St. Therese

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We will never cease praying for our beloved dead, because we will never stop loving them. They will never stop praying for and loving us either.

Love is the only thing we can take with us when we die. Our dead left this world with our love, and they still have it. We still have theirs. Love is alive, because God is alive and God is love. Love is not static, because God isn’t. Jesus said that God was not a God of the dead but of the living, so when we say he is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, we affirm that though these men died, they are alive in God.

Silent love flows between us at all times, on both sides of life and death. The more we are aware of and cultivate this love, the more it is prayer.

When we perform some act of love and remembrance, we are praying. When we talk to someone who is living in the spiritual world that includes Purgatory and Heaven, we are praying. We can pray for them, we can ask their prayers, we can talk to them and hang out with them. We are one with them.

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Now and then God does something out of the ordinary to remind us of these truths.

At a daily mass a couple of years after the death of my first husband, I was about to receive Holy Communion from Fr. David at St. Mary’s, with my very small youngest child on my hip.

Fr. David said, “Body of Christ.”

I said, “Amen.”

My little daughter said, “Hi Daddy!”

We will be,we are, always together in the Eucharist. All of us.

Father, in the eucharistic sacrifice you unite us more fully

with those who now live in your kingdom…

~from the Prayers of Intercession from the Liturgy of the Hours

November 2, 2018 1

Peace, love and cemeteries

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I remember noticing my first cemetery as a very young child and asking my mother what it was. I couldn’t believe they buried people. I was horrified. I felt so sorry for them. My mom said to stop crying, that the dead people in the graves didn’t care and didn’t even know they were dead probably. She said to be glad they didn’t have to suffer anymore. I was not convinced. For one thing I was sure they were lonely and cold under there. How could they not notice being lonely and cold and dead? How could anyone just walk by without thinking about that or trying to help?

Later on, as we all do, I experienced some people I loved being buried. After that cemeteries seemed even more like horrible places one should avoid even thinking about, let alone visiting.

In my mid teens I developed a fascination for cemeteries. They were places where I wasn’t supposed to be, that had strict rules of etiquette it seemed fun to break, and were therefore irresistible to me. I remember running around with a group of other punks in Austin all day once, and we went to an old cemetery in the evening and had a picnic there.

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At dusk we were all awed at the fireflies that came out. By then I agreed with my mom on the surface: the dead were just dead and didn’t know anything. But underneath was still my childhood suspicion that those people under there were sad and cold. The sight of glowing fireflies flitting around the head stones brought up some unaccustomed thoughts for a decidedly atheist 15 year-old to think. I wondered if the lightening bugs represented the spirits of the dead somehow. They certainly looked pretty, a cloud of fairy lights that moved between us and made us all happy and uncomfortable at the same time. It was wondrous.

Eventually I shook my head and didn’t think about it anymore for a long time.

When I met my beloved first husband, Blaze, he was a freshman in the Corps of Cadets at A & M, and, oh dear, a “Roman Catholic.” That’s what he said. “RomanCatholic”. I almost decided not to go out with him after I heard that. A Catholic Corps guy, he was undoubtedly my idealogical opposite.

I respected him for his courage, though, in asking out a girl like me. By then I looked kind of post-punk-neo-beatnick. You would have thought that would be repellent to a “CT” or at least make him sure he would be turned down. I figured I was safe; he would hate me, I would hate him, and everything would be OK. Right? So I said yes.

He wanted to take me to lunch. I said, “Why don’t we make it a picnic…in a cemetery?” I was sure this would freak him out but he shocked me by getting all excited. Did we have “an old cemetery here? A cool, Catholic one with statues and stuff?”

Uh-oh.

I admitted that we did. We figured out who would bring what, and set the date. Wednesday afternoon October 21, 1987.

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Being at that old cemetery with him made me see it through his eyes a little.

It was a holy place. He didn’t think it ghoulish or rebellious to have lunch there and to take pictures of the prettiest head stones and of the serenely prayerful faces of the statues. He took a picture of me, too, smiling on the picnic blanket with a crypt behind me.

He explained that the bodies of the dead were to be held in reverence, that the dead prayed for us, that we could pray with and for them, and that cemeteries should remind us of Easter and the life to come.

I thought he was really weird. But I liked listening to him.

We didn’t hate each other. We started dating.

And that Catholic cemetery became a place we went to walk and sit and talk. The sacred surroundings and the quiet provoked discussions about things I had never thought about–things like eternity and Jesus and Mary and what Heaven might be like. He sometimes brought his guitar and I sang with him, or I would bring a bottle of bubbles and enjoy blowing bubbles while we discussed these new topics.

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I’m sorry, Catholic Reader, but I used to wear a rosary around my neck sometimes. I knew it offended some people for me to wear it, (they told me so) but I didn’t really care. Sorry about that. (I guess you got me back, didn’t you? I ended up Catholic!) One day, at the cemetery, Blaze asked me in his nonthreatening, gentle way, if I’d like to learn “what you really do with one of those things.” I surprised myself by very much wanting to learn what one really did with a rosary. There and then he taught me my first “Hail Mary.” I never leave that cemetery without praying one with him.

Blaze is buried there now and so is my adored second husband, Bob. I will be buried between them. We’ll be like a little human trinity.

It still feels terribly wrong to us to bury a human being in the ground, and it is. As Christians we know death and burial are a result of a fallen world, and that at the right time God will put an end to that nonsense. We know that death is already conquered by the Passion and Sacrifice of Christ. We look forward to this, “to the life of the world to come”. We believe our bodies will be part of this new world. Our bodies will be resurrected, and glorified as the body of Jesus was, because of His spirit living in us.

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Jesus showed us how real the glorified body is by letting His Sacred Wounds be touched, and by eating with His Disciples after He rose from the dead. Through His actions He reassured His friends, as if to say, “See? I’m not a ghost. I’m real, a physical presence. It’s Me. All of Me.“ We will follow Him in this, our bodies and souls reunited. And we will be able to touch and hug the people we have missed for so long.

As Catholics we believe that our bodies are part of who we are. Though the body is seen by some religions as a kind of clothing the soul leaves behind, we don’t see it like that. This, I think, is why we are a little weird about relics of Saints. Come on! You know we are weird about that stuff. St. Catherine of Sienna’s head is in a box with a light in it so you can look at it. There is a bone chip of St. Thomas Aquinas at my church. St. Bernadette is incorrupt in France and lies in a glass casket like Snow White. It does seem a little odd.

But it makes sense. These were holy people. And their bodies are holy too. And when we die we will know Our Prince is coming to wake us up and carry us off to His Kingdom. Cemeteries are holy places. They are places to be prayerful.

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When I and my daughters visit my mother and grandmother’s graves we usually pray the rosary and ask them to join us. We tend the graves and make sure the head stones are clean. We talk to them. These times are very meaningful for us and I am grateful that our faith gives us so many more possibilities for a visit to a grave besides “paying our respects.”

A grave is a place of meeting, a place of prayer. Our visit to a grave is a pilgrimage to honor our love and sorrow, our memory, our hope, and the life of the one buried there–a life which is not ended but changed. We are affirming our faith when we spend time there in that way.

Cemeteries are sacred, because the human body, the human person is sacred. Cemeteries are sacred because God treasures our tears. Every head stone we see there represents so many tears, our tears that in Heaven will be jewels on our garments.

I never walk into a silent, still grave yard that I am not conscious of the faith, hope and love it represents and the shoreline of Heaven that it is.

I am thinking of inscribing something new at my husband’s graves. It will say, “Pray with us.”

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*Author’s note: Be sure to read the signs and follow the rules of any cemetery respectfully. Sometimes this is hard. At our cemetery there is a big sign with a list of so many things one is not allowed to do, it is comical. But God loves obedience and other grieving people appreciate not being intruded upon or scandalized. I try to always quit blowing bubbles when anybody shows up at the cemetery–even if I think our beloved dead probably like the bubbles a lot. Why wouldn’t they?

October 29, 2018 1

Prayers and reflections for the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary

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The beautiful Luminous Mysteries of the rosary are generally prayed on Thursdays. They are a meditation on the ministry and teaching years of the life of Jesus. They begin with His baptism, and take us on to the Miracle at the wedding at Cana, The Proclaimation of the Kingdom of God, The Transfiguration of the Lord, and finally, to the Last Supper.

God bless your prayer with Mary as you meditate on the Mysteries of Light and offer these bright yellow roses of prayer to Mary as she leads you to contemplate her Son.

Opening Prayers for the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary

“In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen.

Come, Holy Spirit,

come by means

of the powerful intercession

of the Immaculate Heart of Mary,

Thy well beloved spouse,

and Queen of the Holy Rosary.

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Help us to “contemplate the face of Christ” with Mary,

treasuring and pondering these mysteries in our hearts.

Allow us to accompany you, O Sacred Virgin.

Let us “learn Christ” from you in your “school of prayer,” the rosary. *

Receive from us these “bright yellow roses”** of prayer,

this garland of the Luminous Mysteries

as we ponder this “compendium of the Gospel.” *

Help us to pray it from the heart.

Through our prayers, and our meditation,

on the life of Christ,

may we scatter the petals of the Gospel

along the path of every person on earth,

to lead each one

in the way of Jesus.

Here begin the rosary in the usual way, using these brief reflections at the start of each of the Luminous mysteries, praying the dedication to Mary at the end of each decade.

First Luminous Mystery: The Baptism of the Lord

Jesus, as St. Elizabeth affirmed your mother’s purpose and ministry at the time of the Visitation, now John witnesses to Your truth in the presence

of the Holy Spirit,

coming down from Heaven,

and the Father speaks

to show us

Jesus.

We marvel at this profoundly humble encounter,

this kindly revelation

of who You are.

With your baptism, Lord, you dedicated yourself to your mission and to the Father.

We dedicate and consecrate our lives to the Father in union with You. In deep humility, as we pray…

1 Our Father, 10 Hail Mary, 1 Glory be, O my Jesus…

We place these bright yellow roses of the Baptism of the Lord, into your hands,

Mother of Jesus,

Mother of the Church.

May all of your children

live every day

in the love of Jesus,

and give Him

to everyone

in all that we do.

May we be filled with the Holy Spirit

in every word we speak.

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Second Luminous Mystery: The Wedding at Cana

Jesus, at Cana,

responding to your mother’s confident nudge,

you performed your first miracle at a wedding reception that was running out of wine,

turning water reserved for ritual washing

into

the best of wines.

In your compassion, give our souls the deepest joy of believing in you.

Give us this wine forever,

and grant us the grace of beautiful Christian lives

full of the happiness of true love,

given and received every day.

We pray…

1 Our Father, 10 Hail Mary, 1 Glory be, O my Jesus…

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Mother of Good Counsel,

we offer you these bright yellow roses

of the Miracle at the Wedding at Cana,

humbly fastening them to your veil.

May all your children bring you constant joy by hearing the voice of Jesus,

doing whatever He tells us,

with the simple trust

that draws Him to work miracles.

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Third Luminous Mystery: The Proclamation of the Kingdom of God

Jesus, you are the pearl in the field.

You yourself are our prize,

our treasure,

our peace,

our way to the Kingdom.

We ponder your love,

your teachings,

your parables,

your miracles,

your healing of the sick and broken.

We savor the Beatitudes,

and the shining truth of You as we pray….

1 Our Father, 10 Hail Mary, 1 Glory be, O my Jesus…

Mary, our humble queen mother,

we place these bright yellow roses of the Proclamation of the Kingdom of God

at your rough and calloused feet

that followed your Son

so faithfully.

May we follow, too, with ready feet,

and with

the little ones,

enter the Kingdom.

beautiful bloom blooming blossom — Photo by Mikes Photos on Pexels.com

Fourth Luminous Mystery: The Transfiguration of the Lord

Jesus, even though they fell asleep in prayer,

Peter, James and John were still given the grace of awakening to the vision of You in glory,

then given the highest gift of inner prayer:

to, “look up and see only [you,]”

Just you,

on a quiet day.

We ponder, we immerse ourselves, we gaze on your beauty

in simplicity of heart

as we pray…

1 Our Father, 10 Hail Mary, 1 Glory be, 1 O my Jesus…

Mary, Mother of Prayer,

we offer you these bright, yellow roses of the Mystery of the Transfiguration of your Son,

surrounding you with their light.

Like you, may we be so pure of heart,

that all we see

is God wherever we look.

Guide all of your children

to be children of prayer

and of light.

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Fifth Luminous Mystery: The Institution of the Eucharist

Jesus, with Your dearest friends, you desired to announce a New Covenant,

a New Commandment,

a new Passover.

We long to receive You in Holy Communion with one another at mass.

Since we can not now physically receive You in the Holy Eucharist,

we ask humbly that You come spiritually into our hearts.

Bind us together and to You in Your Body.

Make us holy, and fill us completely

with the simple knowledge

of Your presence.

Allow us to live in You,

and come now,

live in us.

We praise You,

we bless You,

we adore you,

we glorify You.

We pray….

1 Our Father, 10 Hail Mary, 1 Glory be, O my Jesus…

garden orange flower rose — Photo by Laura Lambden on Pexels.com

Mother of he Eucharist,

we offer you these bright yellow roses of the Institution of the Eucharist

to adorn the alter in Heaven.

May your children always receive Jesus in the Eucharist

with faith, love, and reverence, with thanksgiving.

May His true presence with us be praised,

adored and loved

always and at every moment

in every mass,

and in every tabernacle in the world,

as He is in Heaven.

Hail, Holy Queen…

yellow rose flower in close up photography — Photo by Judy Sengsone on Pexels.com

Closing Prayers for the Luminous Mysteries

Holy Mother, allow us to embrace you tenderly,

and to rest with you

in the goodness of the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary,

in the beauty of the Gospel,

in the wonderful truth of Jesus,

of all that He is.

And we thank you

for this beautiful time with you.

Together with Your loving Son,

give us

blessing

and help us

to bless the world.

Amen.

bloom blooming blossom close up — Photo by Juhasz Imre on Pexels.com

*Pope St.John Paul II in Rosarium Virginis Mariae

** In the book, Rosary Novenas to Our Lady,the authors, Charles V Lacey and John R Brokhoff refer to the Hail Marys of the Luminous Mysteries as “bright yellow roses.”

October 25, 2018 3

Luke Interviews Mary: The Annunciation

Happy St. Luke day. Here is a story. 🙂

Bethany Hang Out

After the breaking of the Bread and the Prayers in the house of John the Apostle, when all the others had left, Mary sat me down, bringing me water and a plate of olives. She walked quickly through the house, putting things away, straightening mats, stirring a stew she was making for John and me for dinner. Finally, after much motherly bustle, she sat down, smiling at me expectantly.

I marveled at the way her gently lined face still looked like the face of a little girl, and wished I could see all that her kind and peaceful eyes had seen.

“So, you understand why I came, and what I am working on?” I asked her.

“Yes, how wonderful!”

I took my writing materials out of my bag.

I was nervous but felt calmed by the comfortable, child like enthusiasm on her face.

She wanted to know everything about my…

View original post 1,170 more words

October 18, 2018 0

An Interview with St. Teresa of Avila

I’m a tiny bit late. She has already ordered her usual black coffee and has obviously charmed the pants off the waiter. He continues to smile and wave at her from behind the counter from time to time throughout our stay. I’m happy to see she brought her tambourine like I asked, even though she hadn’t wanted to on the phone. I love that thing.

It’s funny that in her rough brown Carmelite habit, her rope sandals and dark veil, she is not the weirdest looking person in the coffee shop. But people do notice her as they walk by, and she gives each an inviting smile they can’t help but return.

Once we both have our coffees, and she’s hugged me, we settle down at our favorite table. I turn on my recorder.

I am always in awe of her. But she is as cozy and comfortable as my own mother would be. She is certainly “Doctor of the Deep,” a woman challenging and inspiring, but she is ever practical and balanced. Sometimes she is pretty funny, too.

“Holy Mother, Happy Feast Day! “ She smiles broadly, and we toast with our coffees. She knows I like to do that and she humors me.

“ You come from a time when people thought contemplative prayer was dangerous and were afraid to practice it. In our day, they seem to think it’s some esoteric thing they could never do and they don’t see why they would want to or why it is any use to anyone.”

She looks thoughtfully at her coffee and then out the window at the people going by. Prayer to her is like breathing. Why would anybody not want to breath? She knows, though… she knows how we can’t be silent or still these days. It’s harder than ever to live a quiet life, to believe, and to pray, really pray.

“Perhaps if they feel that way, they don’t know what prayer is, what it can be, what it can do. The soul finds her true peace in it. It is a very real work in and for the Church.”

“So when you talk about prayer what do you mean? A lot of people think of it as saying set prayers or asking God for something, that sort of thing.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she says, sitting bolt upright for emphasis. “ Say your prayers. But when you do, think carefully of Who you are talking to and what you are saying. If you are talking to your friend, for example, but all you are doing is saying words, not giving him eye contact or listening so he can talk, what kind of conversation, what kind of relationship is that? Christ is your Friend. You are already starting to do what I called ‘mental prayer’ when you give Him at least the contact and attention you would give any dear friend.”

The waiter brings her a plate of cookies for no reason, and she smiles warmly at him. I can’t take her anywhere that this sort of thing doesn’t happen.

“People so often rattle off their prayers without thinking or opening their hearts. If they call that prayer…well…words fail me.” *

An eyebrow comes up as she sips her coffee. Her expression says nothing could be more ridiculous than “praying” like that.

We sit silently for some minutes drinking our coffee. She hasn’t touched the cookies so I’m certainly not going to.

“Why would anybody need anything more than living a good Catholic life?” I ask, as I am sure many do.

“Jesus is here within us,” she says passionately, putting her hand over her heart. “And we shouldn’t leave Him there all alone. * This is very important. You need to remember that His throne is your heart. You yourself are His castle. Be with Him there.”

I love how she says that.

“And all the life of prayer,” she says as she smiles at a child who runs by, “is to lead us to good works, good works, my daughter!” ***

“Good works?”

“We become His hands, His feet, His Heart for the world and the Church through the transforming love we find in prayer. A soul completely given to Him becomes a window for the out-streaming of God’s grace into the world for everyone and for the good of the Church. This is our fulfillment and our work in this life, our gift to give and our destiny in eternity!”

“Do you have any advice for those who might be interested in praying the Teresian way?”

I was hoping she would say something cool and mystical but…
As she often does, she wants to go over the pre-requisites of a life of prayer.

“My idea is that we not just give some time to prayer each day,” she says. “We craft a life that is prayer!”

“Live a simple life inside and out. Keep a good conscience. Be faithful to the Church. Train yourself to make room for the Lord. Then He will come at His own perfect time in His own way and do the rest. You will find peace and the Lord will find a place to rest His head! That place will be your own soul. Let nothing steal your treasure: * His company, His indwelling, His peace. Mental prayer… is nothing more than falling in love with Christ and conversing often in secret with our Friend who we know loves us.” ***

I beam at her. Wow. Just wow.

I glance down at my notes.

“Another thing that might discourage modern people from exploring your ideas is that you talk about detachment a lot. That usually sounds harsh to people of today. When you say to practice detachment from things and people, but you urge us to love one another what do you mean?”

“ I mean to love those around us, through and for God. This is to see through God’s eyes, to love with God’s Heart. That’s detachment. It isn’t a cold, distant ideal, it’s letting the Lord be the center of all your love and desires.”

I am suddenly aware once more of the cookies between us.

There is something I am dying to know, though, Reader, before I turn off the recorder. I bet you want to know too!

“Can you tell us much about your life with God as it is now?” She looks almost demure but she is radiant as she tells me, “The Lord of Love is mine and I am truly His at last.”

I can’t get anything else out of her about it except that our life on Earth is like “a couple of hours,” or a “night at a bad inn.” * Any trouble we take for God is nothing compared to being with Him in Heaven forever.

I notice the cookies are gone but there are a lot of people walking around with cookies…. How did she do that?

Giving my head a quick shake, I ask her, “Holy Mother, is there anything you would like to leave our readers with?”

She leans forward. “Don’t let anything scare you in this world,” she says tenderly, ****“everything passes but God will never change. Be patient, endure, and things will happen for you. If you have God you have everything.”

She is enchanting when her eyes glow like that.

When we get up to leave, I say, “Oh hey, you forgot your halo!” I pick up the tambourine, waving it, and put it behind her head. She pinches my arm. She says that clearly I seem to have forgotten my halo today. I am laughing and she pretends to be annoyed but I know she’s not. We go out and have some fun with that tambourine of hers. I’ve always thought she looked cool with that thing. And she can really dance.

Happy Feast Day, St. Teresa of Jesus, Doctor of the Church, Foundress of the Discalced Carmelites, great Teacher of Prayer. Thank you for all the wisdom and inspiration you have given us. Pray for us that we may become good friends of Christ that He might form us for the work of His Kingdom.

Author’s Note:

I am not a Teresian scholar, only one of Teresa’s daughters. Some of this piece is paraphrased teaching of hers, and some of it reflects who St. Teresa is to me, and what she teaches me. Hopefully this describes some of her ideas in a fun way, without the time barrier. When I did quote her verbatim I put her words in italics.

By the way she really did dance around with a tambourine sometimes. And I bet she looked cool.

* The Way of Perfection
** The Interior Castle
*** Life, her autobiography

***“…Mental prayer is nothing more than falling in love with Christ…” is translated this particular way by Fr. Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. in his book, The Teresian Gospel.

**** “everything passes” known as “St. Teresa’s Bookmark”

I have written more specifically on Teresian Prayer in my article Five Minute Mysticwhich you can find here: http://www.austincnm.com/index.php/2013/07/five-minute-mystic/#.Ulw_kY41ZSU

October 15, 2018 5

How I learned that the rosary connects us, and that love is stronger than death

It was almost my wedding anniversary and my husband, Bob, had just died a couple of weeks before, of Brain Cancer. I dreaded that “birthday of our marriage” even more because I remember how terrible it felt last time that first wedding anniversary after the death of my first husband, Blaze. I knew that it was best to do something special to honor the day and that would help me a lot. I also remembered the days leading up to the anniversary are worse because of the dread of it, than the actual day itself sometimes.

I had a lot of wonder and gratitude about walking with Bob through that transformative, critical time in his life, our life, as we dealt with cancer, and about the beauty, holiness, love and unity we experienced through our fight and also at his death. I had a deep gratitude for Bob’s love for me, which was complete, passionate, tender, self sacrificing, life giving, and powerful; all I could ever dream of. I knew what I had when I had him. I loved every minute of it even though it was a terrifying and painful journey once Bob had the seizure that started it all. I would walk that journey with him again, even knowing what I know now. He was worth it. It was a joy to love like that and to know such intimacy even in the face of the unknown; the possibility of death and loss we had to deal with every day.

I decided for our first (“better- half, post-humous”) wedding anniversary, I would pray a rosary novena of love and gratitude for our marriage. I asked Bob, in spirit, to join me in praying it. I knew he would. We had often prayed together, even before he became Catholic, with my rosary wrapped around our joined hands. The first gift he ever gave me was a rosary. That particular rosary was also the sign I had asked for from God about whether I should be open to a relationship with Bob or not after a lot of agonizing and not knowing how I felt or what I should do. (That’s a whole other story.)

When Bob proposed to me (I will have to write you a story about that too sometime,) I happened to have a rosary in my hand and when I finally said, “yes” (I was crying a lot,) I wrapped it around our wrists.

The rosary had always been a part of us. So a rosary novena leading up to the big day seemed perfect.

I normally pray the rosary while walking. In this rosary novena of love and thanksgiving, I would walk the same route with my rosary that I had done every night of the two and a half years of Bob’s illness, praying for him. It’s a perfect route because I am almost home right when I get to the “Hail Holy Queen.”

I decided, though, to do my rosary walk during the day this time so I would be less likely to think of those nights I walked and prayed for him carrying such hope and pain. I wanted it to feel a little different at least. Of course now I was in a lot of pain with my grief, too, to the point I felt like I could die from it. It was hard to find comfort anywhere and praying the rosary felt strange and foreign like everything else I did at that time. But I did it anyway of course.

One day toward the end of the novena I was walking along my accustomed path, praying the rosary, feeling particularly broken and lost. My heart asked Bob the wrenching questions that agonized me in my times of acute desolation. “Do you still love me? Are you still mine? Are you joining me in this rosary novena really? Do you miss me? I don’t want you to suffer but I wish I knew if you missed me. I wish you could miss me a little. Can you even miss anyone when you are in Heaven?”

I finished my rosary walk. When I got home I went through some old e-mails of Bob’s to me from years ago. I forwarded some of them to his mother. I had paused, as a wave of grief went through me… then realized that I had been staring unseeing at a picture Bob had attached to an e-mail he had sent me a few years ago. Suddenly I saw what I was looking at. It was a picture of his dirty hand taken at work (he was a press room foreman & mechanic at the local newspaper so his hands were always filthy and inky). In this beautiful, calloused, dirty hand of his was a delicate forest green rosary. His caption said, “missing you.” (See the picture above)

I couldn’t believe it. I cried.

To me this said yes, he is still mine, we are connected by heart, he still loves me, he is joining me in praying the rosary, and…. he misses me. It was overwhelming. I actually felt happy all day after that.

This is what the picture means to me:

• Love is stronger than death.

• The rosary is a glorious prayer that even connects the Communion of Saints, (I knew that of course but now I KNOW it!)

• It seems people in Heaven can miss us after a fashion, as well as answer and comfort us sometimes in our painful moments of deep grief.

That is how I saw that photograph; as a loving gesture from Bob and from the Lord. I have no idea why he would have titled it, “missing you,” at the time when he took that picture years ago. But thank you, God, that he did.

assorted rosary prayer beads — Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

October 6, 2018 1

Our family traditions for St. Therese Day

Here is how my daughters and I celebrated the feast of St. Therese, (October 1) when they were growing up, and we still do!

After dinner on the evening of St. Therese day, we read the book God’s Little Flower, the story of St. Therese. Even after the girls were “too old” for this book, we still read it. I still have it, and whoever is home, we read it after dinner. It’s a very good book, and is a good introduction to the life and spiritual discoveries of St. Therese for adults as well. In fact, we have used it for that purpose to good effect in the past.

After that, having bought earlier in the day, as many roses as we could possibly afford, my girls and I, and whoever else wants to participate (friends, boyfriends, whoever) go out and randomly hand out roses to people.

We feel that no explanation is necessary with people when you give them a rose.

We don’t preach or give anybody anything to read. The roses are just free, like the love of God!

If people ask, and sometimes they do, why we are handing out roses, we tell them about St.Therese and that we honor her promise to “let fall a shower of roses from Heaven,” and to “spend [her] Heaven doing good on earth.” But otherwise we just hand them to people, or ask them, “Would you like a rose?”

You should try this! People who get roses always will feel great and you, the giver, will too. It is truly amazing how uplifting and fun a project “random roses from St. Therese,” can be.

I promise if you do this, especially if you do it again and again over many years, you will have some great stories you will tell again and again. We sure do!

red love yellow petals — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Often, I will make a St. Therese Rose Petal Pound Cake. Here’s the recipe.

You will need:

1 lb sweet butter, softened (vegan butter works fine)
3 cups sugar
6 eggs (for vegan “eggs” 1 Tbs. water + 3 Tbs. ground flax or chia seed = 1 egg)
1 cup milk (I use unsweetened almond milk)
2 tablespoons rose water (yes, it’s edible and at your grocery store)
1 tablespoon baking powder
4 cups flour

a little powdered sugar for dusting
Baker’s sweet chocolate (about half a 4 oz. box)
organic rose petals (Please don’t use store bought roses for this as they might be sprayed with insecticides… another choice would be to use them but take them off before you eat!)

Preheat oven to 350.
Cream together butter and sugar
Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each.
Sift together dry ingredients.
Mix together milk and rose water
Add dry and wet to butter mixture alternately.
Mix gently by hand after each.

Pour into buttered and floured tube or bundt pan (or two loaf pans). Bake 1 hour, or till toothpick or fork into center comes out dry.
After the cake cools ten minutes, turn out onto a plate.
Cool completely.

Dust with powdered sugar
Drizzle with melted chocolate
Sprinkle with rose petals

We usually had a brief family prayer service in honor of St. Therese, based on Evening Prayer for her feast day, but adjusted for the age of the audience. 🙂 For the Littles this might be a few short prayers and a song. Older kids can pray the Liturgy of the Hours with parents… especially with cake at the end.

We enjoy showering one another with rose petals, and also throwing them to the crucifix.

Enjoy, and spread the love!

Be blessed, St. Therese, and pray for us!