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
When I don’t know what to do, I take up the rosary. And this makes total sense because praying the rosary is like holding Mary’s hand. It’s a way to pray in every style and on every level. It’s the prayer of the people. Our Lady urges us to pray it. St. Jacinta of Fatima said it was able to stop wars. It’s an offering to God, an offering to Mary.
October is the month of the Holy Rosary. The awful things that have happened this week have been horrifying and broken my heart, probably yours too.
All I can do with this is run to Mary in the rosary. She knows what to do.
She knows how her migrant children are being treated. She knows about what’s happening in the land she lived her earthly life in. She loves Ukrainians and Russians alike. She loves her MAGA children and her children on the opposite side. She loves us all. She is our mother, our sister, our friend.
Today I have written reflections and prayers for the rosary that go with Catholic values and the things that have concerned me the most this week as I took in current events. I plan to keep doing that for the month of October until I cover all of the mysteries. So I will add to this each week of October. I’m praying for everyone though, for the whole world, asking that God’s will be done, that the Kingdom will come, for the promised triumph of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, that love will win and start winning now, and if not, that at the very least it will win in me.
Come, Holy Spirit,
Come by means
Of the powerful intercession
Of the Immaculate Heart of Mary
Thy well beloved spouse.
Amen
The Joyful Mysteries
(Mondays, Saturdays and the Sundays of Advent)
Every Hail Mary is a beautiful rose offered to Our Lady. So for these Joyful Mysteries we will offer her perfect pink rosebuds to commemorate and participate in her joy.
The Annunciation (rose hip: humility)
My soul magnifies the Lord, and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior. (Luke 1:46-47)
Young Mary, I place myself with you as you hear the most astonishing message anyone on earth has ever heard, as you accept a mission and a life you never expected, displaying a strength, courage and humility we find impossible to imagine. And you conceived of the Holy Spirit, the Savior of the world. Maybe you cried after the angel left. You are overwhelmed. Maybe you will let me hold you.
Thank you sweet Mother, for your acceptance with joy even though you were scared. You had faith.
I pray in special reference to vulnerable and marginalized people especially immigrants being terrorized in my country, and those who do the terrorizing or support it. Open our hearts to humbly accept Jesus in everyone. I pray for all of us. Pray for us to know God’s will for us.
The Visitation (rose bud: charity/love of neighbor).
A new command I give you: Love one another.
As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
(John 13:34)
Let me accompany you, Mary, when you immediately left to visit your kinswoman, Elizabeth, who was part of the Secret you carried, and who needed support in her late in life pregnancy. You didn’t hesitate. You went straight there.
Pray for me, Mary my sister and friend. Pray for me that I will never hesitate to help where I can, to be in community with those who have the same purpose of charity and love of neighbor. Help me find strength, hope, encouragement and peace among people united for this. Gather us and guide us, St. Elizabeth, Holy Mary, that we may serve those in need of help and justice that they may live in dignity.
The Nativity(rose bud: poverty of spirit)
Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God (Luke 6:20)
Holy Mother, you traveled late in your pregnancy to Bethlehem on a donkey beside a husband on foot, a poor man with little means. In the sight of barn animals, on the floor of a cave, you endured the pains of birth. No one would let you stay with them. You had nowhere else to go. Let me give you water. Let me hold your hand, hug Joseph when things get hard. Let me share your joy and generosity when Jesus is born and you shared him with those who sought him.
Mother of God, pray for me that I can be in solidarity with the poor and marginalized, with immigrant women whose babies are ripped from their arms, with pregnant and birthing women who are poor and don’t get the care they need, with all people suffering from the injustices pf poverty. Show me Jesus there among them, and in them. Show him to all of us, especially those who can’t see him. There will be our peace and their prayers answered.
The Presentation of the Child Jesus in the Temple (rose hip: love of God/obedience)
Love the Lord your God with all your heart
and with all your soul and with all your mind.
(Matthew 22:37)
You emerged from the Mikva and with Joseph presented your Child in the Temple, offering him to God as required by your faith. Let me submerge in the water of purification with you, pray with you. Let me walk the steps with you and hear the blessings and prayers of the priests. Let me hear with you Simeon and Anna as they say amazing things about the Baby you hold and what he will be and do. I want to support you when you hear of his future rejection, when you are told your heart will be pierced through. How terrible for you and Joseph to know. What did you do with that? What does it mean that because of the piercing of your heart the secret thoughts of many will be revealed?
Mother pray for me that my own heart will be revealed so that I can repent of anything I should repent of. Pray for me that I can withstand the shock I feel when the hatred of so many is revealed. You see us all. Your heart us pierced for us. Pray for us Holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of your young Son, innocent and free to serve. Pray for us to be wise as serpents but innocent as doves as he taught. Always may we live in the truth, especially in a time of so many lies and so much violence justified by lies. When we can’t find him, lead us to the Temple of our hearts where he is always.
The Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple
With burning love I have been zealous for the Lord our God (1Kings:19:10)
Oh Mary, St. Joseph, how awful it was to lose your Child for three straight days. You looked for him everywhere. Nobody could tell you anything and God was silent. No angel spoke. You were desolate. You didn’t know whether this was the sword Simeon spoke of or not. “Mary please eat something,” Jospeh would beg you. “At least sleep a little bit.” How great your joy when you found him in the Temple asking questions and answering them from the teachers. You still confronted him on the spot like any Mother would. “Why have you done this to us?” Even as you embraced him and led him home. He insisted he had been in his Father’s house all the time and was surprised they didn’t know.
Mother of God, so many children of immigrants are having their parents taken away, and being taken from their parents. The parents are sometimes unable to find their children or ever see them again. Pray for them, Holy Mother. You know how they feel. You hear the screams of the children, the cries of parents. Pray for me when I can’t see God at work, when I can’t see anything but Jesus being persecuted and dragged away. Help me also to the joy you knew in finding your Son. Tell me he is at work helping these people now. Tell them. O God these are ugly days. Help me still find beauty and love. Help me find you. You are there. Doing the Father’s work all the time.
Closing Prayers
Queen of the Holy Rosary, I offer you these of pink rose buds I have woven into a crown to place on your sweet head. I love you. I love you so much. I just want to sit with you a while and be happy with you.
O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor haughty my eyes; I have not gone after things too great,
or marvels beyond me.
Truly I have set my soul
In silence and peace like a weaned child in its mother’s lap even so my soul.
Oh Israel, hope in the Lord forever!
Psalm 131
The Luminous Mysteries (Thursdays)
For these Luminous Mysteries we will offer her these bright yellow roses to represent the Light of Christ.
Come, Holy Spirit,
Come by means
Of the powerful intercession
Of the Immaculate Heart of Mary
Thy well beloved spouse.
The Baptism of the Lord (rose hip: dedication to God’s will)
Sacrifice and offering you did not desire— but my ears you have opened burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require. Then I said, “Here I am, I have come— it is written about me in the scroll. I desire to do your will, my God; your law is within my heart.”
Psalm 40:6-8
Jesus, you accepted baptism from John humbly as a dedication, a consecration, a willingness do do the will of your Father, to give yourself to us to teach, heal and save us. Reflecting your dedication, and in memory of my own baptism, I pray:
God, I offer myself to thee, to do with me and build with me as you will. Relieve me of the bondage of self that I may better do thy will. Take away my difficulties that victory over them may bear witness to thy power, thy love, thy way of life. May I do thy will always. Amen.
3rd Step Prayer, Alcoholics Anonymous
*Go down into the river Jordan with Jesus, and hear with him the words of the Father, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased,” and know these words are meant for you too. Let Jesus dry your face and hair. Maybe you would like to hug him.
The Wedding at Cana (rose hip: trust in Mary’s intercession)
Do whatever he tells you
John 2:5
Jesus, your mother sees our troubles, and she comes to you to intercede for us. In some towns during your ministry you didn’t work many miracles because people had no faith. It was Mary’s faith that led you to perform your first public miracle. She turns to me and says, “I have prayed for you to my Son, now do whatever he tells you.” Sometimes I even know what you want but we’re scared to do it. But you and Our Lady look at me and your presence gives me strength. May I always trust in her motherly, sisterly love and her friendship. The paths of her heart always take me back to yours- all good, all beautiful, all love. Trace in my heart the lines of her love for you, and transform me as water to wine.
The Proclamation of the Kingdom of God
(rose hip: Love of the Poor, the Outcast, the Persecuted of the world)
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor… to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.
Luke 4:18-19
Lord there are so two different meanings to your Word here, at least two. I know that you came to set us free from sin and from the grip of the devil’s oppression. You also say to me in these words that you want to see actual captives free, actual sight returned to the blind, for the oppressed of our world to be free. To me this means that I am to be part of this work in both ways. I should be part of the salvation of every soul I come across, and I should pray for all to be saved, be an example, answer questions of faith and spread love always. I understand that the Kingdom is also about social justice, about people being free from prison and migrant detention, about wrongs set right, the poor being free of poverty, the sick being cared for and healed. Lord help me to love my brother, my sister, you. Let me rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15). This is what your Sacred Heart does and I want to share the love you have for everyone, to be one with you.
The Transfiguration of the Lord (rose hip: a spirit of prayer)
One thing I have desired of the LORD, that will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in His temple
Psalm 27:4
How beautiful you are, Lord Jesus. Your beauty will always draw me after you, making me long to contemplate your face. Your loveliness and glory, your divinity and at the same time, you feet standing on the earth that day, maybe with muddy toes, satisfy my soul. Never may I deny you, Lord, nor you me. I with you, you with me, may we abide always together. May it be revealed to me who am devoted to you, the holy truth of the Gospel, of your glory and love, that you complete all things, the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. Even if I fall asleep, even if I say ridiculous things, never leave me. Console ,me and prepare me for the difficulties before me so that I will always stay with you and stand up for love.
The Last Supper, and the Institution of the Eucharist(rose hips: a spirit of humble service, love of the Eucharist)
“Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.
John 12b-15
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, “Take and eat; this is my body.”
Then he took a cup, gave thanks,* and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you,
for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.
Matthew 26:26-28
Jesus, you have washed my feet and taught me to let myself be loved. You have inspired me to wash the feet of my brothers and sisters. Help me to serve humbly as a matter of course, without needing gratitude or any other return, and to go on to the next feet, the next person to love and to serve. The Eucharist is in the Poor as well, we know (Matthew 25:40) so we are nourished when we receive them, and when we serve.
Jesus you feed me yourself in the Eucharist. This truth is my bedrock that lives at the heart of my faith. With gratitude I adore you there and receive you into myself to cherish. And now let me be a little pyx to carry you to everyone as I go about my life. Fill my day with reminders of your presence among us.
Closing Prayer
Holy Mother, I bind these bright yellow roses of the Luminous Mysteries into a pretty crown for your hair. Please accept it as a symbol of my love for you, and of my prayers for all people, along with your own.
The Sorrowful Mysteries
Each Hail Mary of these mysteries is a deep red rose presented to Mary in honor of her Son’s Passion and her co-offering of him to God as the sword of sorrow pierced her heart.
Come, Holy Spirit,
Come by means
Of the powerful intercession
Of the Immaculate Heart of Mary
Thy well beloved spouse.
Amen
The Agony in the Garden(rose hip: courage)
Lord I am in straights! Be my surety!
Psalm 119:122
Jesus, you know what it is to be in terror of violent men on their way to arrest you and take you away, and the horrible things that would follow. You know what it is to be taken from your family and friends, to lose everything, to be betrayed to the authorities who have no mercy at all. You sweated blood mixed with tears and you cried out to your Father. Hear the cries of those who live in fear now. Go to them quickly with your aid. Add my prayers to theirs. Help them face this moment. Open the hearts of those who know not what they do, and especially those that know exactly. Convert us all to the compassion your mother had that night as she prayed for you and your friends even as everyone else slept. Help us to stay awake in prayer.
The Scourging at the Pillar (rose hip: nonviolence)
For the insolent rise up against me, and violent men seek my life.
They have no fear of God before their eyes.
But surely, God is my helper; the Lord is the upholder of my life.
Psalm 54:3-4
Oh Lord Jesus, you were tortured, whipped and beaten almost to death. May I never forget what you endured for love. Allow me to be there with you. When the soldiers finally leave, let me come and anoint your wounds with the balm of compassion and love, with my commitment to nonviolence. This is reparation to you; never to act with cruelty or violence of any kind, remembering you and your suffering at the hands of violent men and the indifference and justification of others for your unjust and excessive punishment. May I have the courage to defend others by sacrifice and not force, as you would have me do. You have set the example.
The Crown of Thorns(rose hip: reverence for the dignity of the human person)
A faithful God, without deceit,just and upright is he!5Yet his degenerate children have treated him basely,a twisted and crooked generation!
Dueteronomy 23:5
Oh Lord, you are the only King, the most beautiful, holy, humble and gracious, all powerful and glorious King. I can’t imagine hurting you. And yet I do. Every time I dehumanize anyone, I forget they are yours and made in your image. The least among us are you. And yet at times I act like their suffering is an inevitable part of who they are, as if it is acceptable. Forgive me, forgive us all for all the times we caused you pain, disrespect or humiliation in our fellow human beings. Lord may I always adore you everywhere I find you – in the Eucharist, in prayer, in my brothers and sisters – especially the least of these who are suffering. Let me be there to love you wherever you can be loved. Allow me to console you and make living reparation to you for all that you suffered in the Crowning with Thorns and the mockery of the men who tortured you.
The Way of the Cross (rose hip: doing my part)
Two are better than one…For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10
Lord, you carried your cross alone until your executioners got help from Simon of Cyrene – and only because they didn’t want you to die on the way. With patient endurance let me do my part to carry your criss with you, to help my brothers and sisters carry theirs. May I see where I can help and step in. May I wipe your face with Veronica. May I walk by your side with your Mother. May I help you like Simon. May I take up my own cross and follow you. And if I fall with exhaustion or in the pain of it, lend me your determination to get up again and keep going until the work you have given me is accomplished. All I want is to be with you and share your life.
Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
Luke 6:36
Lord your mercy is incomprehensible it is so deep, vast, filling the universe and all you have made. It is your greatest attribute and you taught us that it is what you want us to give others as a show of gratitude for what you have done for us. Make my heart merciful, Lord, to be like yours. Let me think merciful thoughts, and let my hands be merciful to serve, my arms to embrace. I want to be with you Lord and see with merciful eyes as you do. Grant that my heart be like your Sacred Heart. Let my unhesitating service be like the flow of your compassion. Allow me to enter into your life, your heart, to live and move in mercy. May I learn to stand at the foot of your cross as your Mother did, in strong support and compassion, offering all to you. Let me ever thankful for your sacrifice and for the way you took my suffering on yourself to share in my life too. If I have to suffer let me do so in a spirit of offering. Never let me close my heart to you. Our Lady never did. Nor did she close her heart to me.
Closing Prayer
Oh Mary, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary, I offer you these red roses in memory and in a partaking with you of your Son’s passion and death, for a beautiful crown for your hair. Rejoice forever Mary, because you shared in your Son’s suffering, and now you reign with him in Heaven. Amen.
The Glorious Mysteries
Queen of glory, we offer you these white roses in honor of the glorious mysteries of the life of your Son you shared so deeply in, and of the glory you know now at his side forever.
Come, Holy Spirit,
come by means
of the powerful intercession
of the Immaculate Heart of Mary
Thy well-beloved spouse.
Amen
The Resurrection of the Lord (rose hip: faith)
…but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.
John 16:22b
Oh Lord, how intense the joy, relief and incomprehension, the feelings of complete overwhelm your Mother and your friends must have felt. I bet they cried tears of joy and surprise. I bet they had so many questions. In your compassion and love you stayed to answer them all, to give as many hugs and reassurances as they needed. You are all love, and love is stronger than death. I think of the families torn apart and the joy of reunion they will know, Oh Lord, because of your love. You will make all things right. You will make all things new. And we will know that you loved us and protected us all along, that your sacrifice made all things possible.
Grant me the faith to trust in your goodness and the power of your love in all things no matter what happens. It is faith that moves the great reformers and leaders of all times and places. We need that faith now – that faith in Resurrection and renewal possible in you not only in the future but now, in ourselves and in the people you died and rose for.
The Ascension of the Lord (rose hip: hope)
Rise up, O LORD, and go to your resting place
Psalm 138a
She let you go, Jesus. She was joyful, she was grieving, she was proud of you. She let you go in hope. She stayed behind with your family of followers to be a Mother to them. Without her key parts of the Gospel would never have been written. Your friends stood in shock until an angel came to remind them of hope. They all must have needed that reminder badly for an angel to bring them to their senses. They had a commission to carry out, nine days of prayer to pray, the Holy Spirit to receive, your Mother to cherish. You left them the Eucharist and you left them the poor so that they would always have you near to love and be close to. You left them one another and the new Commandment to love one another. They had hope; faith in what they couldn’t grasp or process at the time.
So they continued to meet at the Temple, to break bread, to give thanks, to talk about you, teach about you. To pray and to wait for the Holy Spirit to come as you promised.
The Descent of the Holy Spirit (rose hip: love)
I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.
Ephesians 1:18
With Mary praying beside us, open our hearts, Lord. Enlighten us and strengthen our love of you and one another. Fill us with the Spirits’ wisdom which is greater than any other. Grant us all that we need to understand the mission you have called us to. Grace us with the courage of the disciples to speak, to go out, to be sent, to hear you better than ever, to give you to the world.
Renew in me the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit; Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, chastity.
Holy Spirit, grant me especially the graces I stand most in need of now.
The Assumption of Mary (rose hip: union with God)
My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
Song of Songs 2:14
Oh Mother, how could you have anticipated the beauty of this moment? Lifted up body and soul, earth and Heaven, in the trail of your glory you drew us with you, into your union with God. Now you live in the heart of the Trinity where we will one day join you. First of all believers, you went before us in your simple humanity given to God, given to love, given to us your children.
Lord draw me after your Mother, who sees with your eyes, from the vantage point of your arms. Raise my heart to you in unity of love and will with you. Help me be a light in these troubled times when people use religion to justify evil deeds. Help me always to remember love, remember you, remember Mary, and return only good for evil, love for hate and indifference. Then I can spread the joy of you, the joy Mary had, the love she knows in heaven with you.
Queen of Heaven (union with Mary)
Blessed are you, daughter, by the Most High God, above all the women on earth; and blessed be the Lord God, the creator of heaven and earth, who guided your blow at the head of the leader of our enemies.
Your deed of hope will never be forgotten by those who recall the might of God.
May God make this redound to your everlasting honor, rewarding you with blessings, because you risked your life when our people were being oppressed, and you averted our disaster, walking in the straight path before our God.” And all the people answered, “Amen! Amen!
Judith 13:18b-20
Mary our Mother, our Sister and our Queen, you gave over your life for Jesus and for us to the Kingdom of God. May we do the same helped by your prayers and your love for us. Be our advocate at God’s throne. Remind is that our tears in the life will be jewels on our clothes in Heaven. Remind is that even now though we can’t see them, we are crowned with stars too, clothed in the sun, laboring to give birth to God in this world filled with violence, greed, lies and hate. Help us see the beauty of God as you know it, all things alive with his loveliness. With his love and mercy we are crowned and clothed and held. Make us one with your participation in the life and love of the Blessed Trinity. We belong to you now and forever. Hear the prayers of your children and wrap us in your grace and protection.
St. Teresa of Avila talked about the role of the contemplative as a standard bearer. She described the holder of the guidon of Jesus, of love, as having the one goal to hold the banner high no matter what chaos whirls around him, no matter if he is cut to pieces. If the standard bearer should fall, he must struggle to his feet again to hold high the symbol that urges on those in battle, gives them hope, lets them know their comrades are nearby when their courage flags.
I have thought a lot in the past couple of days about what was wrong with me in the midst of the chaos; meaning the violence of thought word and deed since the public murder of Charlie Kirk. I couldn’t hold the banner so much. It wobbled, as Winnie the Pooh would say of his spelling. It wobbled, shook, slipped as I took in entirely too much of what was going on. I have CPTSD and it’s important for me to guard how much craziness I absorb. Also I am an empath type person. I feel what people are feeling deeply. I don’t know about you but the last couple of days have triggered me badly. I have felt like a microcosm of the macrocosm of horror and rage, of compassion and sympathy, of fear and dread. My fight or flight has been FIGHT as usual. I too want to fill my mouth with argument along with everyone else.
St. Teresa would be the first person to say our real war is against ourselves. she advised us to return again and again to “the room of self knowledge.” Well today I am trying that.
Simeon the Prophet told Mother Mary that a sword would pierce her heart “so that the secret thoughts of many [would] be laid bare (Lk. 2:35). I have thought about that at times of tragedy and reckoning over the last several years. It does seem that the secret thoughts of many are laid bare in the midst of tragedy, of horrific events. Mary’s heart was pierced through by her love and compassion for her Son, and really, for us too. Murder surely pierces her heart. Injustice, people doing harm to one another, these must hurt her terribly. Jesus Crucified by hate. Again and again.
I have had my PTSD triggered by the event itself; a horrible murder. A father and husband with little kids suddenly dead. I lost my first husband in a car accident when my youngest was three months old and my eldest three weeks shy of her fifth birthday. I can hardly stand to think of what Kirk’s widow is going through today and what she will go through in the days, weeks, months, years ahead of her. She will have to watch her children grieve. She will have to be there for them as her world is ending. I can’t imagine people watching video all over the world of my husband dying a gruesome death. I was surprised when the sun still rose the day after my husband died. I watched in shock as the news came on and people went to work and school and drove around as if the sky hadn’t fallen. I feel for her very much.
The secret thoughts of many have been laid bare haven’t they? I’ve been triggered by some of their reactions as well as the original event. Some people have been sanitizing the murdered man as if he had been a saint when he was a rank racist who said things every day that could get people harassed, threatened and endangered and did. His public life was all about hate. Then people I thought were sane are saying his work should be “continued,” (Gavin Newsom) or that he “did politics the right way.” (Ezra Klein).
Some have been fawning over him. Their hero is dead. Incomprehensible to me. He was horrible. Look up the things he said for yourself if you don’t believe me.
I think of St. Edith Stein’s saying that truth without love or love without truth is a destructive lie. And look. It is. Historically Black campuses have had bomb threats. The DNC had a bomb threat. Why? I guess because Kirk hated black people? Or because they assumed a black person did it? Because he hated Democrats? They assume the culprit is a Democrat? Brawls have broken out. The president wants to give the man a statue in DC and award him the presidential medal of freedom. Of course he does. He hasn’t helped with his incendiary blaming of “radical left Democrats.”
The outpouring of grief and praise for the man must be a gut punch to the people he harmed with his bullying, with his hate and his stirring up more and more hate. I know it’s a gut punch for me. My heart is the most with the vulnerable and persecuted. That’s where I think it should be. However that solidarity of mine has caused me a lot of rage over the last couple of days. A friend said, to my prayer online for peace and an end to political violence, “You’re a good person.” I replied, “Not really.” I noticed one of my kids put a laughing emoji on that. Thanks a lot Roise.
Also triggering to me is the response of people who want to skip the ugly process of truth and reckoning to get to the peace they think would come if we all decided to just get along and lay aside our differences. To me that’s fake peace. After the things I have been through I have seen enough of that. How can we love our enemies if we whitewash and sanitize what they have done? That’s fake love. It’s useless, wrong even.
I see how I have been freaking out about all this; angry, horrified, scared for our country, taking in too much of what everyone is saying and what the news is when I know that makes me so upset.
Maybe I can offer up all the wild inner agony I have had about all this to God to help someone somewhere. Mary’s piercing of the heart was co-redemptive. I can entrust my little offering of a struggling heart to her.
I pray that I’ll be able to love Kirk- who by all accounts would be an enemy of mine at least as a public figure- in the way God wants me to. Right now that seems to me to be to pray for his salvation, for a beautiful forever life with God for him. Whatever he is doing, Charlie Kirk understands more than any of us do now. He has a completely different perspective. He has encountered eternal love and life. May he embrace them, embrace him who is love and life himself with all of his heart and possess them forever. God says he will give us all new hearts instead of our stony hearts. Amen amen.
I need to ask for that for myself, too. For all of us.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh”
It’s my maternal grandfather’s birthday today. It’s been a long time since he died- February 5, 1985. I was wishing I had a picture of him but all the old pictures burned when my mother’s house burned down. I don’t know why but I went to crying about him this evening. He never got an obituary or anything- not that I can find. But I remember him. I remember his scraggly whiskers and the smell of tobacco and coffee in his hugs. I remember his stories, his laughter and how he always knew even from another room that my granny was about to “start belly-achin’ “ about something. How I would tell him my troubles and he would listen carefully and say tenderly “Well now- doggone it all.”
I remember the old pictures of him when he was young, too. My favorite was of him in a pin striped suit, long-ish well groomed finger nails, cigarette between his fingers, slicked back hair of the period and those cool round glasses. He was a bit of a dandy in that picture. Grandaddy was born Richard West Wallace August 3, 1911 in Cross Tracks, Texas, a town that doesn’t exist anymore. It had been near Lubbock, he said.
His father had been an oil field worker who was killed on the job when Grandaddy was twelve years old. He had three younger siblings, Edith, Jewel and Dudley. His mom’s name was Myrtle. Grandaddy had to quit school and go to work to support his family.
He had been a professional gambler when he was a young man. He played mostly a game called “Kelly Dice.” He had a hardened leather bottle with the dice in it. You shook it and threw the dice out a certain way. I never understood the game. He played card games like poker of course and could do the fancy shuffling. He played Dominoes and nobody could beat him. He had a scar from his ear down his neck where an angry opponent had cut him with a broken beer bottle.
. He is not my grandfather, we found out many years later but actually my great uncle. His brother had an affair with my granny and she got pregnant. What a mess. So my granddaddy stepped in to marry my granny to “give the baby a name.” An “illegitimate” child was a very big deal back then and they didn’t want that to happen.
He spent most of his adult life at 1518 Dewitt Street im Flour Bluff (Corpus Christi) where he raised my mom and had a seemingly stormy marriage with my granny. Their song, though, was “Walz Across Texas,” so they must have been at least a little romantic at some point. He once told me he still “held a candle for my granny.” She laughed when I told her that.
When he married my granny (Ruth Grady) he seems to have become a painter – not an artist but the kind that paints buildings. I remember his white jumpers he wore, splattered with paint of all colors. He fell off a water tower he was painting once and broke his feet to pieces. So he always hobbled. He was one of those people who could whistle a symphony if he wanted. I was always amazed at this as a child. Every morning he would come shuffling out of his room on his broken feet whistling like sunshine. When I was born he was still bed bound with his injuries. My mom used to put me in a cardboard box next to his bed and I would hold his finger for hours.
He was a good companion when I was a kid. Like my granny he drank coffee all day and rolled his own cigarettes. He had this fascinating cigarette roller. I loved sitting with him and listening to him as he rolled cigarettes with it and stacked them for himself and Granny to smoke later. He was an excellent story teller. He had pithy observations about life and people, and often drifted into philosophical speculation I thought was interesting. Memorably he was talking to me about the idea of hell. He told me he believed God was his daddy. He lit a match and asked me if he would ever burn me with that. Of course he wouldn’t. So he didn’t believe God would burn him either.
He taught my brother, Mark, and me how to play dominoes and Go Fish. We liked hanging out. He took me fishing once out in the ocean. I caught a huge crab and he was all excited. But I felt sorry for it and I cried so much he had to let it go. He wasn’t too happy with me and he complained loudly about it to Granny when we got home.
He read all the time and had a stack of ten or fifteen books next to his bed and others next to his chair. He liked westerns and detective stories. He loved my brother, Mark and me. He laughed while we talked to him. He made us “flapjacks” and and asked how much butter we wanted. (Put a lot Grandaddy so I can lick it off!”) He let us drink coffee. He used to say”bah” like a goat when we pulled his short white beard. He was a kindly and eccentric presence to us. He had a glass eye – a reminder of a suicide attempt when he was younger. He used to take it out and set it on the table and laugh at our reaction. He had a coffee can full of change in his room that my brother never got tired of counting for him. Granddaddy had an alcohol problem that affected my mom a lot but as kids we weren’t as aware of that. To us he was funny and told a good story. He was always trying to convince me that “the same thing happened to me when I was a little girl” I was indignant every time. “Granddaddy you were never a little girl!”
In some ways he was a lonely stranger and there is so much I will never know that went on inside him. He walked around quietly, deep in his own thoughts. He spent a lot of time in the hot garage outside but we were always welcome to go out and talk to him. He would sit down on a bucket, light a cigarette and talk to us.
He had a sepia silhouette on the wall in his room of a cowboy looking tired and droopy in his saddle, bowing his head. Grandaddy wasn’t religious at all though I know he believed in God. I wasn’t religious either but I always thought the cowboy was praying. I think Grandaddy felt like that cowboy; “rode hard and put up wet” as they say. The image I think of when I think of him is of a man with a tired body and a tired heart who read westerns in a cloud of cigarette smoke and coffee steam. I loved him.
By the time I was a teen he had developed what they called “wet brain” He thought he was late to work. He would yell about it. He thought there was an old man trapped in the mirror and he had to get him out. “I have to go to Whitney!” He would yell, thinking he had work out there and everyone was waiting, or that his friends left without him. He was sure my brother was stealing the change from his coffee can. One time he banged on the door for twelve hours. I ran out of patience at one point and yelled at him, “WHY?!?! Why are you doing that?!” He stopped and looked at me and then said, “”Cuz I’m crazy *** damnit!” I couldn’t help it. I started laughing and he did too.
He couldn’t remember my name by the end of his life but he trusted me. He would ask for me: “Where did that little brown-eyed girl go?” I would go to him and he would look at me earnestly with wild eyes. He whispered conspiratorially “Get me out of here!” I would say “I’m trying, Grandaddy.”
There was a lot of pain for my mom about their relationship. Her mother had been physically abusive but to her he had been the kind and tender one. As his drinking progressed she had felt betrayed and abandoned by him. There were a lot of resentments and deep hurt there for my mom as much as she loved him.
I’m always going to be grateful for the moment my mother had with him before he died. He didn’t know who she was while she was taking care of him. She said, “Oh Daddy don’t you remember me?” He said,” I’m sorry darlin” I don’t.” She said, “I’m Dinky” (her family nickname) and his eyes lit up. He said, “Well that’s my baby!”
To me that sums up his life even with all of its contrasts- that my mom was his baby.
Richard West Wallace 8/3/1911 – 2/5/1985 Now he has an obituary of sorts. And someday I will write down his stories.
Things are so crazy right now. The world is crazy and our lives are crazy. We all know this. My life has had a lot of what people call “drama.” Right now is no exception. As I worked on my book about St. Teresa’s Prayer of Recollection (Meeting the One who loves you; St. Teresa of Avila’s way of prayer. Scheduled to be released on her feast day, October 15,) I thought about the development of my discipline of prayer in the middle of stress and difficulties.
My discipline of daily prayer was, of course, very imperfect. I had trouble being consistent. I was, as I mention sometimes, widowed young then raising two kids alone for many years. I could hardly get a moment to eat or do the dishes when the youngest was a baby. How did I develop a contemplative life?
I was reading over again a few pages from the book Poustinia by Servant of God Catherine Dougherty last night and came across this wonderful quote from her:
Deserts, silence, solitude, are not necessarily places but states of mind and heart. These deserts can be found in the midst of the city, and in the every day of our lives. We need only to look for them and realize our tremendous need for them. They will be small solitudes, little deserts, tiny pools of silence, but the experience they will bring, if we are disposed to enter them, may be as exultant and as holy as the one God himself entered. For it is God who makes solitude, deserts, and silences holy.
Poustinia
This is what I did. I found little deserts, tiny pools and pockets of silence in the midst of my harried days, in the midst of daily tasks like folding laundry, doing dishes. I have clear memories that are precious to me of the tenderness and wisdom of God, passing by as if brushing near my cheek, touching my heart at times I was doing little things like sweeping the living room floor. There were brief but fruitful moments of silence after taking the trash out when I looked up at the night sky and smiled at God, or in the middle of cooking, working or doing dishes.
Catherine writes that when we carry out the duties of our state in life, and when we are disposed in heart to receive these moments of quietness, they will come. We will notice them like a gentle hand on our shoulder saying, “Wait just a minute.”
I was so overwhelmed as a single mom. I had a great dream, during that time though, that I went into the kitchen and Jesus was there, hair in a ponytail, wiping out my refrigerator for me. I was so grateful in the dream, and happy about it when I woke up. Maybe he meant that if I took care of my prayer when I could, he would make sure things got done, and he would be there for me when I turned to him.
I still find little deserts in my still busy life today. I have built on these moments over the years, to include quiet moments of connection with the young special needs people I work with, a quiet moment petting my dog, Joey, or listening closely to someone needing to be heard. As Catherine and all the mystics point out, the fruits of conscious contact with God spill out to contact with others. Love always moves and flows. By it’s nature it can’t keep to itself. If our prayer is authentic, it won’t even stay in it’s scheduled time and place. God will start splashing it all over our lives and the lives of others too. It has to grow, it has to flow, it has to blossom to be real.
Prayer and love of others, of service, support one another, each setting off and intensifying the colors of the other. They don’t exist without one another.
St. Teresa, S.O.G. Catherine Dougherty and St. Edith Stein (Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) wrote extensively of how contemplative prayer actually has an effect on the growth and conversion of others. It goes out even further to change the world. We all need to take this very seriously right now. Not only do we need to be supported in these scary times by God, we also need to be his light, and as St. Teresa of Avila says, his hands and feet, his clear voice in this world that needs his compassion and love. We have forgotten these things and closed our hearts. We need conversion of heart as a people.
God has made us all connected to one another. So your moment of “found desert” while your’e waiting in line, stuck in traffic, putting gas in the car, taking a deep breath and reaching out to God, can open a window in Heaven, letting the wind of the Spirit rush in. God can work in an instant, even change everything, making our little second of love BIG.
So let’s pay attention today to our possibilities, our tiny pools of silence, pockets of inner solitude, the quietness of heart that come with God’s touch on our faces, the peace that comes from him in those moments. They are more than we could ever imagine. They will shine on us, on others, on the whole world.
“ … a silent heart is a loving heart, and a loving heart is a hospice to the world.”
“We will be protesting today in Austin. I dedicate this act of resistance to the Lord and his mother Mary, who praised the One who brings down kings from their thrones and lifts up the lowly, who fills the hungry and sends the rich away empty. I pray for all of the protestors today, that our acts of resistance may be given their full power for righteousness and Justice, amplified by the Holy Spirit. May everyone be safe and may peace prevail over all. The American people bow before NO KING, ” I wrote on social media the morning of June 14, 2025, the day of nation wide “No King” protests.
We bought stuff for our signs in the early afternoon. While we were there we saw a lady buying canvases and American flags and markers. I said, “Oh I think I know what you’re up to!” “You do?” “Yeah that’s what we’re doing too. We’re going to Austin.” I have to explain that my town is VERY conservative. If your’e not, you’re not going to talk about it in public to someone you don’t know. It’s not like anybody is going to beat you up or anything. People here are mostly kind and friendly. It’s just natural I guess. We’re definitely in the minority. Weird for a college town but it’s Texas A & M’s college town. We are always kind of excited to run into another not-conservative around here.
She invited us to come to her car in the parking lot for some masks. While there she told us about the local No Kings protest. I had thought it would be about ten people but was thrilled to hear the number was closer to 600. I could hardly believe it. I regretted not having being there.
At home we made our signs. My daughter Roise’s was so funny. (Rosie is how we pronounce it- it’s a Gaelic name that would usually be pronounced “Roh-sha” but we just say Rosie.) I had to laugh at hers it was so typical of her. It’s said,
“Dump your MAGA boyfriend.” On the back she wrote,
“They are a drop, we are the ocean.”
I wrote “He has brought down Kings from their thrones and lifted up the lowly- Mother Mary, Lk.1:52.
On the back I wrote,
“If you want peace, work for justice – Pope Paul VI” and “The American people bow to NO KINGS!”
I was happy with it. I took a dollar store red rosary along as well, to keep in my hand. I took a dollar store rosary so if it got broken it wouldn’t bother me as much as one of my usual ones, all of which are special to me for different reasons. And I made sure to wear my Our Lady of Guadalupe socks. Plus I brought bubbles. I really wanted some rose petals but by the time I took care of what my dogs cats and chickens would need for the day, and my girl wrote down all of our numbers we might need in case of arrest or losing our phones, we were pressed for time.
We dropped off my granddaughter at her godmothers’ and headed out. We both felt more nervous than we usually do for these things. There were a lot of reasons for this. Namely the president is doing dictator stuff regarding protests as if they are illegal which they’re not. Secondly two Democratic lawmakers and their spouses had been shot that morning, one of them and her husband had died. The president was having a dictatorship type military parade that day on his birthday. Protestors in L.A. were being overshadowed by a federalized national guard against the will of the governor of California, and so many other signs of text book authoritarianism, including ignoring court orders, were cropping up as if out of a fascist playbook. Today y’all know all this. But someday we might forget so I want to write down some context. It felt like this day could be a sea change, either in a good way or a bad way, as “No Kings” protests took place all over the county. I still don’t know, at this writing, what that sea change will be. We alternated listening to social justice themed songs and more calming songs in the car. We played a lot of Kendrick Lamar (love him) and I pulled out some 80″s hardcore punk with anti fascist themes. (I was a little punk rocker in my teens. In some ways I haven’t changed much.) My daughter didn’t like it so well . But it was my turn.
A friend let us park at his house in Austin and use it as a home base while he was out of town. So we met another friend there we were going with and called an uber. Our friend looked adorable. He had a back pack on with a bouquet of colorful roses sticking out of it, with a small American flag. Otherwise, we all dressed as plainly and comfortably as possible.
A friend from home was coming too, with her husband. We never did find them. There were 20,000 people there so this is no surprise. We texted each other but still gave up after a while.
People were excited and happy to see each other. It felt good to do something about the scary situation in our country while we still could. I’m not exaggerating here as some may think. Not being able to protest anymore is a distinct possibility. Our governor had called out the national guard of Texas too. I don’t think I saw any National Guard people though. Police and State Troopers were everywhere however.
Oh it was hot. We couldn’t really see anything up front. There was speaker after speaker on the Capital steps but we couldn’t see; a drag queen and activist called Bridget Bandit was first. Apparently the number performed after the speech was pretty good but I could only see the top of a big yellow wig. Loved the music. Then there were veterans, immigrants, immigration lawyers and Democratic state legislators, young people whose parents had been taken away by ICE, various activists. I was surprised that Dan Rather spoke.
I didn’t like that we had to stand around in the heat for three hours listening to people talk and we weren’t marching. Marching is the fun part to me. It really feels like community and shared purpose. It’s a powerful experience, walking with others. There were a lot of great signs though. People get so creative and artistic with their signs sometimes. And it was Austin so of course. There was a lot of color – people with clown make up on, Cowboy hats of course, with flags draped over shoulders or worn as capes. Plenty of baseball caps and the ocasional sombrero. One person was carrying a watermelon (a symbol of Palestine) or wearing the traditional Palestinian scarf of black and white checks and fringed ends. There was plenty of colorful hair as well. I enjoyed the variety.
I saw a sign or two with pictures of Elvis thst said something to the effect of, “The only King in America.” This just seemed typically Austin to me somehow. There were lots of flags; American flags, Mexican flags, the Texas flag, even a few Palestinian flags. There was an inflatable Elon Musk that was pretty creepy.
Lots of people were blowing bubbles. Who could be un-cheered by bubbles? So I remembered mine were in my pocket and joined in.
We lost our friend for a while. When he found us I said dang when are we going to march? He said he didn’t think we were going to because we were absolutely surrounded by law enforcement. I was mad. How annoying. I thought about leaving. But we didn’t. I was feeling dizzy but thankfully there was free cold water and even popsicles. People are great.
Finally people started leaving. I thought we were all going home but actually it turned out to be the march. It really was fun in spite of the ubiquitous police and state trooper presence. People came out of buildings along the way and cheered us on. Others rolled down their car windows to yell some of the chants. There was lots of honking. I saw a line of police in which one of them seemed to be trying to read my sign so I walked over and showed them all both sides. One of them said, “Wait it didn’t finish reading the other side,” so I flipped it over again. We smiled at each other. We should always be kind, I think. They’re just people doing their jobs. One of them said, “Watch your back!” There was a car coming up way to close behind me. They told me to move aside and I said “What about you?” I mean we didn’t know whether it was a friendly car or not. I moved on of course.
Somebody gave me a bouquet of white roses. I loved that. I held them as long as I could but it ended up being kind of a pain. I handed them to somebody who had just joined us and didn’t have anything to carry. She was happy.
Our friend we were marching with started a couple of the chants. “FREE FREE PALESTINE!” Hey this was about everything. We chanted that for a while. There was a young woman there in our part of the marchers who had a megaphone and she started some chants. Some were in Spanish and they meant, “The people united will never be defeated.” and then we would say it in English for a while. There were chants about ICE. The one most familiar to me from all the other protests I had been to was, “No fear, no hate, no fascist USA.’ I told my daughter and her friend about my first big protest. I was a teenager then. That protest was about trying to get Texas A&M to divest from South Africa over Apartheid. I had been to Brazos Valley Peace Action protests before (this was during the Cold War and the concern about nuclear weapons build up). But in this town those were fifteen people or so getting ignored on the side of the road. The anti-Apartheid was actually a pretty big protest. I carried a very big metal sign that said “FREE South Africa.” It was exhilarating for me. It felt so good to DO something about stuff that was out of my control and to do so with people who were as concerned as I was.
Along our way yesterday I kept giggling about the funnier signs and nudging the kids. One just said, “BRUH.” Some of them would qualify as great folk art. That would be a cool exhibit I think. Protest signs through the ages.
Mine was certainly not the only sign with Bible verses. I saw some with Psalm 107 about “may his days be few and someone else take his office.” I thought that one was kind of mean. Several people had the verse about “You shall love the immigrant and treat them as one of your own.” (LV. 19:34) Of course “Love your neighbor” showed up a lot. A girl marching in front of me had a sign that said, “Jesus is my only King.” I had thought saying that on mine too. I was pleased to have met other Catholics too. They saw my brown scapular and said, “Hey we’re from St. Austins’ what’s your parish?”
When we passed the Cathedral of St. Mary’s, I waved up at the statue of Our Lady over the church doors. I told the kids, “Yay, I knew she would be here!”
Eventually it was 8:30 and getting dark. In my experience if anything crazy is going to happen it was going to be after dark. And anyway I had started to feel sick. And we had to get home to our animals and pick up my granddaughter. We had my other daughter go and pick her up from her godmothers because we realized we would never get there on time.
The protest was supposed to end at 8 but I read online that it was still going at 10pm. I thought that was great. So we took an Uber back to our home base. We walked down the street to eat Indian food and talk over the day with hoarse voices. We were proud of our friend for starting some of the chants. He is usually pretty quiet. Who knew he had it in him? We complained about the heat. I remarked about how though there were jubilant parts of the day, this protest had seemed different to me. It seemed more somber than ones we had been to before. I think the overwhelming police presence put a bit of a damper on things of course. But I also think it was those shootings that morning and the clear signs of authoritarianism we are seeing in our country, like people being “disappeared” off the streets by masked men, put it unmarked vans and detained without warrants or due process. And a real grief along with the worry- grief yes, for what we were already losing- the whole idea of our country; its identity and what we have always thought we stood for, the freedom and human rights we were founded on, things we had taken for granted.
I am hoping there is still time to turn the tide and that’s it’s not too late. All three of us felt like this was an historic moment. I’m glad we were a part of it.
Sean and I are in the car eating cherry slushies with spoons. He is in the back seat and I am sitting sideways in the front so I can see him. “Are you happy?” I ask him. He smiles very big, and says, “YES!” “Me too,” I say. “I’m pretty happy too.”
When I pick him up at the end of his day there are a variety of things he might say as he is handed into the car by his teacher. One of my favorites is, “Hello boys and girls.” That one cracks me up. He is a funny kid.
For a 13 year old he is pretty quiet most of the time. He has several voices though. Most often he speaks either in a bright staccato reminiscent of a character in an old cartoon, or in a soft, quiet voice he usually uses when he has more to say. When he speaks low I think it is because he is a little nervous about saying more so he talks really fast. “I’dliketolistentorockyroadtodublinplease.” This he says many times each day because The Rocky Road to Dublin is his favorite song. (He especially likes the version by the High Kings). Gaelic music is his jam. It’s all we listen to when we are together. It’s a good thing I like Irish music too.
He doesn’t particularly like me playing with his toys- which is a bummer because he has a lot of fun toys. His parents make sure he has exactly the right things that are fun and also good for him- lots of learning and sensory toys. He likes me to be with him when he plays but not for me to touch anything. Sometimes I sneak a piece of that cool slime putty but I give it back as soon as he notices. Eventually he lets me play too. I’m also a fan of his extensive rubber ducky collection. He spends a lot of time with those guys. Which means I do too of course. It’s a regular rubber ducky party sometimes.
Don’t be fooled by the wide, dreamy blue eyed gaze, the sweet, soft face and fuzzy head of this boy, all of which give him a hazy angelic look as if he is in another world. He can seem that he is thinking of something else or as if he isn’t aware of his surroundings. However, Sean is taking in everything.
His mom is a singer and she has been working on a new song lately. She is singing it in the kitchen and she pauses while she looks for something. In the pause Sean supplies the next phrase. She sings the next one. He sings the next one after that. He knows the whole song! We’re impressed. He has certainly been listening when his mom was practicing.
Sean is pretty calm and quiet most of the time- until he isn’t. His feelings are apparently pretty intense at times. To those of us on the outside the intensity appears sudden. He makes a heart rending announcement. “Oh no! Oh no! SAD! SAD!” We tell him we are sorry he is sad and ask him to take a deep breath. He is very good about this. He always does it when we ask him to and it always helps. I have loved seeing how understanding and compassionate his parents are when this happens. They are very good at encouraging, guiding and bringing out the best out in him.
Once he and I were at a playground and a little boy asked, “Why can’t he talk?” I said that he can, he just doesn’t most of the time. Then the boy asked, “Why do you follow him around like that?” Sean took off running right then. I said , “Because he does that!” And I took off after him. I found him hiding behind a column looking upset. “Are you upset?” “Yes.” “Is it because of what that little boy asked?” “Yes.” “Sean there is nothing wrong with you at all. You’re perfect just the way you are, OK?” “OK.”
On the way home I played him “The Rocky Road to Dublin,” as many times as he wanted.
Sean is loving and affectionate. He can be very cuddly especially when he is in the mood which is usually later in the day when he’s tired. He likes to get in his dad’s lap or in his arm chair with him, hug him and rub cheeks with him. They’re very adorable.
He likes to lay in my lap or embrace me and say, “Friends!” Which I love. He likes to stand in the kitchen with his mom touching foreheads and talking with her.
Sean seems really secure and to know he is valued. He seems to understand his special place in his family. He is lucky to have his grandparents nearby. He loves them and asks about them all the time. He has a lot of support. Families like this are great to see and an honor to work with.
Sean laughs a lot. Sometimes it’s the kind of laugh that makes him go running through the house like a madman, as if he can’t contain his joy and enthusiasm. Whatever is going on in his mind, it’s hilarious to him.
He has his little jokes with us. He might say, in his idiosyncratic sing- song, “seventy has five letters.” I say, “ nuh uh!” His mom says “how many is it really?” After a while he admits it has seven letters. Which he knows very well. He is quite amused by this. As for me I had to count the letters on my fingers to make sure.
Sometimes we are playing quietly or watching something and he says,” tickle me.” He may or may not laugh when I do but I have told him if I am going to go to the trouble I expect laughter. He obliges dramatically with satisfying shrieks.
Another common request from Sean is “high five.” Or he may say “H-5!” Sometimes he does want to high five. Other times what he really wants is to hold hands. So we do.
“Repeat after me,” I say, and he does, a word at a time. “I. AM. A. CUTIE PIE!”
Sometimes I ask, “Who’s a cutie pie?” He says, “SEAN!” “That’s right.” And he really is.
Sometimes he sits in the hammock and I sit in the swing and we listen to Irish music and are content. These are some of the nicest moments in my day- he and I swinging, listening to music and smiling at each other.
We are playing with a bunch of rubbery letters of the alphabet and Sean suddenly disappears. I’m surprised. I look down at the counter and he has spelled out a message in colorful plastic: BYE.
Bethany Hang Out 