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 90’s was called Live. They had this great line from their song Run to the Water on their album The Distance to Here.
“Brother let your heart be wounded/and give no mercy to your fear.” I’ve 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?
… 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.”
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.
“ In a moment we lost our minds here
And lay our spirit down
Today we lived a thousand years
All we have is now.”
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. “One chop and it’s all over.” Life, though, she said, was “a long martyrdom.” She said this because living in Christly love is not easy. It’s 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, “We aren’t supposed to be the Church of Nice.” No, I said, “We are called to be the Church of radical LOVE.” And that’s the” long martyrdom” for me right now, and maybe for you too.
The Prophet Elijah said, “The Lord lives. I am standing in his presence.”( 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 don’t 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 don’t 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, “My vocation! At last I have found it! My vocation is love!” She wrote, “In the heart of the Church, my Mother, I shall be love.”
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
It’s been my brother Mark’s birthday today. He would have been 56. (1970-2015) I was thinking about love and letting go. I actually don’t like the phrase “letting go.” 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 don’t want them to be far away from me- like childhood friends whose names I can’t really remember anymore. I don’t 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 isn’t 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 can’t take away love. And maybe that is what it means to let go; when I don’t 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.
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. “Maybe you should go for a walk.” 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. 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. Now that the dishes are done and St. Martha takes a well deserved nap, we can settle down with Jesus next to Martha’s sister Mary at the feet of Jesus who has been waiting. Especially during the Octave (the first eight days after Christmas Day) let’s challenge ourselves to spend time alone with Jesus daily. 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. It’s what he wants for his birthday.
So take a few minutes. Set a timer for five. Sit comfortably with your back relatively straight (so you don’t 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 don’t have to think about anything. Just be there. Just love.
Mass was beautiful this morning and I got to read the second reading for “Christmas mass during the day.” 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:
“I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me”?
And again, when he leads* the first-born into the world, he says:
“Let all the angels of God worship him.”
I love mass at Christmas. Everyone smiles extra, whispering “merry Christmas” 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 didn’t have any money on me. I didn’t 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. 🙂
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.
When she was 15, my eldest daughter, Maire, getting ready for Confirmation, volunteered for the Children’s Liturgy at our parish. Small children would file out of mass with cute music just before the readings. They would be led into a little side room where volunteers read the Gospel to them in a way they could understand. My daughter, Maire loved little kids. She was perfect for this ministry. She loved little kids she met or played with so much she would write their names on her notebooks with hearts and other designs equally sweet.
She came in to teach the kids when it was her turn. It was nearing the end of Advent. The adults looked nervous when this little goth girl came in to work with the kids. The first thing she did is ask them what they wanted for Christmas and let them talk about that. Then she asked them, “What does Jesus want for Christmas? It’s his birthday! What do you think he would like best?” Visible relief on adult faces around the room.
But this is a really good question. What does he want? I think one thing leads to another and covers everything and that’s “making time to be alone with the One who [you] know loves [you.”] (St. Teresa of Avila). I think this because making that time, being with him, leads us to all of the other things he likes, such as transformation in him, generosity, love that leads to service. He wants YOU for Christmas.
As Mother Teresa of Calcutta wrote:
The fruit of Silence is Prayer. The fruit of Prayer is Faith. The fruit of Faith is Love. The fruit of Love is Service. The fruit of Service is Peace.
When we make time to be alone and quiet with the One Who we know loves us, our faith is deepened as we come to know Jesus more intimately. Love expands in us as we cultivate a deeper relationship with him, and this love pours out naturally in service.
So what does Jesus want for Christmas? You, of course. Your time, your love, your attentiveness, your quiet heart (yes you can have a quiet heart), your receptivity to him.
Do we have to pray at Church to carve out this time for Jesus? In the presence of the Blessed Sacrament is always a great place to pray. However, no. Anywhere you can be alone for a while is good.
As someone who was a single parent for many years, I know how hard it can be to find any alone time. You can, though. You just have to be creative and flexible that’s all. He can work withy whatever time you have. You can pray in the car if you arrive early somewhere. I love it when I am ten minutes early. Since I have social anxiety it helps a lot to get someplace early and take that time to sit with Jesus for a while before dealing with people.
I confess I also hid in the tree house sometimes once the kids were older. Just for a while. I could still hear them.
I did all this getting up early so I had time to pray, or staying up late to do so, or praying in silence on my break at work because once you get in the habit of silent prayer, it’s something you want very much to do. I cherished that time with Jesus, even if out of necessity it had to be short.
After a while I came to love prayer because I knew he wanted me there. He really was the One who I knew loved me and it made him happy for me to stop what I was doing and set aside time for him.
St. Teresa of Avila said that if we can get into the habit of the Prayer of recollection we will “attain what we desire in six months.” What do we desire from prayer? What do we long for most from God?
I love this quote from the poet Hafiz
Ask the Friend for love.
Ask him again.
For I have learned that every heart will get
What it prays for
Most.
I think we are made for love and we know God is love. Any trouble we could take to give the Lord our time is infinitely worth it. As St. Teresa says, “life is like a night at a bad inn.” But Jesus is forever.
So go into your room, shut the door, and pray to your Father in secret. The Son and the Holy Spirit will come and live with you.
*I am including a guide to the Prayer of Recollection I wrote some years ago. My new little book about the Prayer of Recollection is out right now, Meeting the One Who loves you; the way of prayer of St. Teresa of Avila, and available from Our Sunday Visitor Bookstore as well as Amazon and Barnes and Noble or whatever you buy books.
One of the best tools I have ever found to form new habits is the book Atomic Habits by James Clear
I am quite neuron-divergent in several ways and forming a new habit is sooooooo difficult for me. My favorite idea from that book was to commit to two minutes daily to this new thing you want to start doing. You won’t be overwhelmed by two minutes at all for anything. It won’t see like such a big deal to you to sit down with Jesus for only two minutes at the same time each day. Stay with the two minutes until you are into the swing of it and then you’re off! Start adding to it little by little.
How long should you pray? My personal goal has always been thirty minutes at a time daily. After years of the practice of interior prayer, it’s not a big deal to pray that long. In fact I add in little snippets of it where I can through the day. I think of them like flowers tucked into a rock wall here and there with a little moss. You have the nice strong wall at the cornerstone of your 30 minutes of interior prayer, and then these pretty little flowers modestly adorning it; your few minutes here and there in the car in a parking lot, between jobs, a few minutes before bed, or after evening prayer or after mass.
The rewards of this little habit are like water to the soul. All your other practices of faith are immeasurably deepened. Your faith will mean more to you than ever and not in a weird way that makes you annoying to other people, but in a way that flows out with honest love to everything and everyone in your life. Most of all it makes the Lord so happy and you will grow so much closer to him.
As St. John of the Cross wrote, “In the evening of your life you will be judged on love; so love, the way God wants, and leave off your own way of acting.” This makes me chuckle a little. We all have our own little ideas about what is the most holy thing to do and sometimes it’s not what we thought. He seems to like the simple things. “Sit down with me, and let yourself be loved.” Or as our St. Teresa said, “I am only asking you to look at him.”
Come, and you will see. Advent is the perfect time for this; to cherish Jesus within you as Mary did, to ponder the Lord in our hearts, to reflect him as she did, love him as she did. Right here. It’s the perfect gift.
I’m still processing the experience I think. But it was a lovely day. We had lunch with a friend, walked along the river, hung out in a coffee shop a bit and went over to the basilica. We joined the silent line of people going around the left side of the Church to pray in front of St. Terese’s relics. People knelt and touched the glass around her reliquary. They touched their rosaries, their crucifixes from home, or laid a hand on the glass. I didn’t know how I would feel. But when I knelt there beside her what I felt was all my love for her. I felt clear and present. I prayed for everyone who asked and everyone I offered to pray for and everyone and everything I could think of. I cried a little bit which surprised me. I almost never cry. My daughter prayed there and touched a rose petal to the reliquary. She has been having a hard time. The day before we left though, a friend who doesn’t know who St. Therese is left her a bouquet of roses on our front porch. I told my girl they had to be from St. Therese. ♥️
We stayed for mass. It was in Spanish but we could understand a little and the mass is the mass. It’s easy to know what’s going on in any language. I thought how beautiful the mass sounds in Spanish.
We went outside to see my friend Fr. Gregory. He was in a great mood. It was so good to see him. I gave him a copy of my new book. They have my other one at their book store and they will get this one too. I also might go do another talk down there in January or maybe during Advent.
They had a booth where people were telling stories about the impact of St. Therese in their lives. So I told our family story about her. * (I will put that at the end as notes. )
Then we found out they had relics of St. Therese’s parents Zellie and Louis Martin so we went down to see them and pray with them a while. They had a special table for prayer requests about child loss and about marriage. They had large prints of some of their letters and pictures of them with their family.
We prayed there with the relics a while then filed upstairs with others to visit Therese again. I remember the lady I saw on our second visit who was holding up her dog to St. Therese, even pressing him against the glass and bowing her head, praying fervently. She was praying for him it looked like. That’s good because I prayed for my dog Joey too and a sick dog (Lucy) of a friend along with everything else. I prayed that all the people there would be touched by St. Therese, that she would hear them all and comfort them, that she would help them. ♥️
My daughter and granddaughter fell asleep on the drive home. I smiled a lot in the dark, continuing to pray, feeling grateful and happy.
*Our best St. Therese story:
My first husband, and the father of my children lost his life in a car accident when my eldest, Maire, was almost five. My youngest, Roise, was a newborn. Maire wanted her first Communion early. I explained that she would do that with her class in second grade. She was upset. She used to cry at mass and after mass. She would say, “But I NEED the Body and Blood of Jesus!” We talked to our priest, Father Dean, about this. He agreed that if I would teach her what she needed at home that summer, he would allow it. We set the date for July 16, the feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. She had wanted Immaculate Heart of Mary but we had to be in a wedding that day.
We started our lessons and as the day drew nearer she started worrying that maybe she shouldn’t do it, but go with her class. Maybe God didn’t want her to do this early. After all it was a very big deal. So we started a novena to St. Therese. Every night we prayed at bed time and Maire asked her to send a yellow rose if she should take this step now, and an orange one if the answer was to wait.
Then we went on a trip to visit her dad’s family in Wisconsin. It was a good visit. When we got home she got in the shower while I unpacked. There was a bouquet of yellow roses in our suitcase. I couldn’t believe it. I called them and asked if any of them had done that. Nobody had. So I took the roses and poked them through to the other side of the shower curtain. The sight was received with much rejoicing.
Little Maire received First Holy Communion that July. She had not even known you get a dress and a party. My mom hand made her dress from scraps of my wedding dress. It was a great day. We still talk about the roses St. Therese sent to reassure Maire that even at her young age she was welcome at God’s table.
*St. Therese has been on U. S. tour. She was in San Antonio from October 31-November , 2025
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