“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.
My late husband, Bob, during our engagement, had been deeply moved by his first Holy Thursday mass. Watching the priest wash parishioner’s feet impressed him profoundly.
One time we were talking about Vigils the night before Catholic funerals. He wondered if the same thing happened before a wedding – a service with readings, prayers and a rosary. I said no but I wish that there was a tradition like that.
Bob thought we should have one. Well why not? We found out this was something that had to be a private thing we did at home rather than in the Church. We started planning our at home wedding vigil.
We looked at books like The Blessing Cup and a Catholic wedding prep book called Marriage, Sacrament of Hope and Challenge, for ideas since both contained little rituals that could be done at home, and then we wrote our own.
We invited friends over for the night before our wedding (we had our bachelor and bachelorette parties earlier in the week).
Bob definitely wanted us to wash each other’s feet, and he wanted a way to include my kids from my first marriage (their dad had died in a car crash when they were little). He felt he wasn’t just marrying me but becoming family to them too. So he bought them both necklaces as tokens of his commitment to them too.
Bob was not Catholic (yet). Most of his friends weren’t either. So while we Catholics prayed the rosary, the non- Catholics could go to the back yard where Bob would have a fire going and could play guitar and sing and people could talk or join him. We rosary pray-ers would join them when we finished.
Our ceremony included an opening prayer, a Scripture reading, intercessions, and an exchange of words of commitment before we washed each other’s feet. We included Bob’s gifting the necklaces to the girls, the sharing of a “Blessing Cup” we passed around, an Our Father and a closing prayer and plus lots of hugs.
I mostly remember that just as he finished washing my right foot, he gave my toes a squeeze with those big warm calloused hands of his.
I think a wedding vigil is such a beautiful idea, a wonderful thing to do. A couple needs as many prayers and as much support as they can get!
Bob was already fighting brain cancer by the time we did this. Our marriage was far from long enough but it was a beautiful one. I am extra glad we started it this way.
Our favorite wedding picture. 🙂
By guest blogger, Roise Manning (my youngest daughter)
Funnily enough, watching The Martian has shaped how I think about science in a deep, personal way. There’s something uniquely inspiring about Mark Watney, a man left behind on Mars, completely alone, with the world assuming he’s dead. He doesn’t give up. Instead, he leans on what he knows. He’s a botanist, not an action hero, but he starts solving one problem at a time. How to make water, grow food. How to modify a rover that wasn’t meant to go very far. How to get in contact with NASA, then how to communicate with them. It’s not flashy, it’s survival through science. And more than that, it’s survival through hope.
What moves me most is how he gives himself hope by trusting his knowledge, his training, his ability to think critically, and how to manipulate what resources he does have to survive. That kind of inner resilience feels like the heart of science: believing that the world is knowable, that problems have solutions, and that knowledge (even imperfect knowledge) is power. Watney doesn’t wait for someone to save him. He builds his own way forward, one equation, one experiment, one small decision at a time. When I’m feeling hopeless in today’s climate, like I just can’t take it anymore, I rewatch this movie. I always get chills when he looks around after taking a shower and getting the glass out of his abdomen and says, “I’m not going to die here.”
The whole world begins to root for him. China gives NASA a device they had been keeping secret in order to help them get him food, until a young astrophysicist at NASA comes up with an entirely new idea for how to bring Watney home. He’s not part of the leadership, he’s not a veteran engineer, he’s just a kid. He works through the math, tests it, brings it to the top, and ultimately turns NASA on their heads. And that idea, built around using China’s booster, ends up being the turning point that makes the rescue possible. That moment drives home how science is collaborative, and how progress often comes from unexpected places.
In the end, the entire world, every single country, is listening in to his crew’s dialogue. When the Commander says “We got him!” The screen shows everyone in the whole world jumping up and down, crying, hugging, and I just get this burst of hope and togetherness.
That story reshapes what I think it means to explain something in science. It’s not just identifying causes or finding the “right” answer. It’s about making sense of the unknown by drawing on what we do know. It’s about unifying past experiences and theories, leading us to a path through uncertainty. I used to think science was mostly about answers, but now I see it’s just as much about process. How we think, how we question, how we adapt, and how we use what we have.
I find myself especially drawn to the idea of unification, the way science pulls together knowledge from different fields to create something greater. In The Martian, botany, chemistry, physics, and engineering all come together to keep one person alive. And in real life, it’s the same: science isn’t just a subject; it’s a way of seeing and solving problems that connects everything.
This understanding of explanation gives science a deeper purpose to me. It’s not only a method for discovery, but it’s a mindset of persistence and possibility. It tells us that even when things seem impossible, there is a way forward. Maybe not right away. Maybe not perfectly. But step by step, with the right tools and mindset, we can make sense of the unknown…and survive it.
At the end of the movie, Watney is teaching a group of students, and he breaks it down perfectly. He says, “You solve one problem, and then the next, and then the next. And if you solve enough problems, you get to come home.” He reminds them that when you’re in space, you have to think on your feet, as space does not cooperate.
“Something WILL go south.”
So what are YOU going to do? What are you going to do with your knowledge, and the things at your disposal?
When I used to volunteer for Hospice I would deliver flowers every week or so to an old man who had kidney cancer. He lived way out in the middle of nowhere in a small, very old wooden house with his wife, Priscilla. He was my favorite stop. We used to talk and talk. I prayed with his family, sons and daughters, cousins, brothers and sisters, in the kitchen holding hands. They prayed spontaneous vocal prayer. I was shy so I prayed Come, Holy Spirit but they were delighted and said it was wonderful.
He liked to pray for me about things that came up in my life. He would say he had “pondered” in his heart and reflected on a situation in my life and tell me what he felt he got in prayer about it. He often worried about me being a widow so young, and thought I should marry again. He prayed a “holy Christian man” would come into my life. Years later, this did happen, and I’m sure Mr. J.D. had something to do with it. I was surprised he could worry about anyone else when he was dying. But that’s how he was.
When I came in, he used to tell me how his day was in spiritual terms. He would say, “I been deep in the Lord, deep in the Lord all day today.” Another time, in his last few days, he said, “I’m sorry I just can’t talk about anything else but Jesus Christ anymore.” I said “No need to apologize. That’s what I think about all the time too. “ This was in 2002. I still remember him sometimes and smile. He’s deep in the Lord for sure 
This post is for those of us for whom the 2025 Inauguration of our incoming president will be a day of grief, or at least a difficult day.
I am very very sad for my country too and worried as well as I have said before. I am horrified by the ugliness and hate this administration is already unleashing into society – bringing out the worst in all of us.
Here are my survival plans for January 20.
I am not watching the inauguration, not in any way. In fact I’m not listening to the news at all that day. Spiritual reading or audio book sounds a lot better.
I plan to celebrate MLK whose day it is. I can do this by being grateful for him, by posting about him, by reading some of his writings, by talking about him with my family, especially with my grandchildren. Locally we have an MLK day March that because of weather will be a caravan this year. We plan to join it.
If you’re home for the MLK holiday then you can make this a mini retreat day for yourself to recharge and put on the armor of God
.
“Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
Ephesians 6:11-17
Pray. Because when we pray we are truly putting more love into the world , in whatever way we choose to pray. If we pray with love and attentiveness God will work through us in secret and powerful ways; our soul becomes a door of grace for the movement of divine love into this world. We don’t have to say anything. We only bring ourselves to God with an open heart. He will only do what is right.
So pray in whatever way you can. Pray as much as you can.
I plan to dedicate my actions that day and any suffering I feel or any happiness, all my thoughts words and experiences of the day, to the cause of truth and justice and right. God knows what those truly are so I don’t even have to be specific.
Next, make this a day of service. Do a good deed. Make a connection with someone. You can pick up trash in your neighborhood. Perform a random act of kindness. Volunteer at a local charity. Spend some time really listening to a child and let them lead the conversation or the activity of their choice. Kids remember things like that. Do someone else’s chores. Pay it forward at a drive through. Give someone flowers. Ask a homeless person how they are. You know what to do.
I also think at least for that day Philippians 4:8 has excellent advice for what to keep in mind. I’m going to try to master my thoughts and put that verse into action.
“Finally, brothers, sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
Philippians 4:8
I plan to listen to beautiful music and also to take refuge in poetry. I’ve been reading a lot of poetry lately.
Make good use of that dark day of worry fear and grief. Make it something beautiful for God and for others, for yourself.
It’s like putting flowers in guns I think. Only these flowers are able to bring about the change they represent.
This is it y’all. Let’s prepare ourselves with prayer, with beauty, with acts of service, with peace. That’s our real refuge.
I, like many, have been struggling with acceptance since Nov. 5th. Ive been thinking HOW are we, how am I, going to make it through this? I’ve made some plans, thought of some things to do to assist others who will be most affected. But I realized that one thing that could help is acceptance. It sounds obvious but sometimes it takes me a while to realize that I am in non- acceptance – which is the most painful, sticky place to be. If stuck in a glue trap or a spiders web, struggle only impedes escape. I – and we- have a lot of work to do, a lot coming that we will have to deal with. If you are familiar with AA and Al-Anon maybe you will recognize this:
“The level of my Serenity is directly proportional to the level of my acceptance.” – Alcoholics Anonymous, The Big Book
We should not accept what is evil, thats not what I’m saying. But for me it’s been hard to accept that this is where we are. Trump is here along with his clown car of malignant crazies. Yes they are cruel and destructive and authoritarian, racist, “Christian” nationalist, anti planet, sexist -etcetera etcetera, everything horrible. They are. But until I can quit being shocked every day by the awful things they say and do I can’t be very useful and I certainly will be emotionally drained. I’m chuckling a little thinking of how the Twelve Steps of AA would sound applied to Trump but maybe the idea of acceptance and sorting out areas of powerlessness from areas of responsibility and possibility is a pretty good idea.
Sometimes I listen to a spiritual speaker named Tara Brach. She is Buddhist but her talks can apply to anyone. She talks about having a heart ready for anything. To have that you need acceptance of the fact of what’s here. This is here. It “belongs” so to speak. Here we are. Am I going to go into this kicking and screaming? Or can I relax and untangle the web, roll out of the glue trap, and be open to what the Spirit is asking of me in these times ? I suspect there will be many glue trap days. But I can return to the first three steps of the twelve:
- That I am powerless over the fact that for the next four years this is our government, yes, of madmen. Here they are. And I admit that my inner life has become unmanageable because of my reaction to this fact.
- I believe that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.
- I become willing to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand him.
I think the 11th step is a big part of this too: I seek “through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God, praying only for the knowledge of his will for me and the power to carry it out.”
I do think intercessory prayer is going to be extremely important in what we are about to encounter. So I’m adding that of course, to my 11th step plans.
Sometimes the only way out is through. So let’s go through. And let’s do it with love.
And let’s remember this is also the Jubilee Year of Hope and we are Pilgrims of Hope.
Hate did not win. Love has not died. It never will. And we belong to love. Lies cannot become truth. They never will. And we belong to truth. Our country has not been overcome by darkness. Because our country has us.
if you’re dealing with a profound loss, the after effects of tragedy or post traumatic stress you may be feeling spiritually dead. Maybe you think you’ve lost your faith or that God has left you. It may be helpful for you to know there are neurological reasons for this apparent loss of your spiritual senses.
When there is a traumatic event or a terrible loss in our lives, our brains are actually affected. Trauma can disrupt the brain’s ability to process spiritual experiences by affecting its prefrontal cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, and temporal lobes. These areas are also involved in emotional regulation, memory, and our sense of self, even our feeling of connection with something greater than ourselves. Dysfunction in these regions can lead to a disconcerting loss of or distortion in a person’s spiritual life. It’s difficult for us to feel God with us, or to reach the peace we used to find in prayer and the practice of our faith.
The prefrontal cortex is responsible for self-reflection and focus. It helps us in practices like contemplative prayer and meditation by supporting awareness and attention. When this part of the brain is dealing with trauma we can’t seem to relax. We may feel void of any spirituality at all. Even the sacraments we believe in feel oddly empty as if we are merely spectators. Everything may seem meaningless to us now because the brain is preoccupied with stress and survival due to its injuries from trauma.
The amygdala and hippocampus process emotions, especially fear and joy. It gives us a sense of our life stories, of our own history. Spiritual experiences often evoke intense emotions and build on a relationship with God that we have developed over time. Trauma can even shrink the hippocampus . It may be hard to remember the love we once knew with God. Without this memory of the lived experience of God’s love and mercy, it’s hard to trust the Lord or that he is still there at all.
With post traumatic stress the amygdala becomes hyperactive, keeping our brains in a state of fear and hypervigilance. We might also feel emotionally overwhelmed and dysregulated making daily life difficult let alone communion with God.
The temporal lobes of the brain are associated with mystical experiences, and our perception of religious imagery. They also help us integrate our sensory experiences in life into spiritual meaning. Sustaining trauma can cause either overactivation or underactivation of the temporal lobes. This can lead to either intense visions or else fear-based religious thoughts. On the other hand, we may feel emotionally and spiritually blank. Where is God?
“God my God, why have you forsaken me?” Mark 15:33-34
Our anterior cingulate cortex helps us feel empathy and compassion. It’s also involved in the regulation of emotions and our sense of the Divine.The damage of trauma can impair the ACC. We may feel lost, cut off emotionally from our friends. We feel empty and alienated from people and God.
“Friend and neighbor you have taken away.
My one companion is darkness.” Ps. 88:18
The insula processes sensations and emotions, contributing to a sense of the nearness of God or a feeling of transcendence during prayer or meditation.Trauma can impair the functioning of the insula leading to either low body awareness or too much of it. We can feel a strange detachment from our bodies, unaware of even our physical needs. Conversely we may be overwhelmed by physical sensations, making it hard to relax or focus when we want to pray.
The good news is that contemplative prayer and meditation have been shown to be healing and even restorative to these areas of the brain impaired by trauma. Interior prayer practices and meditation can calm the amygdala, improve prefrontal cortex regulation, and enhance the connectivity of the ACC and insula, restoring emotional balance and renewing our sense of connection.
It means a lot to me that Jesus experienced trauma and that he allowed himself to descend into the depths of the abyss of abandonment when he cried out from the cross his desolation.
St. John of the Cross taught about the “Dark Night of the Soul,” a phase of the spiritual life of many Christian contemplatives and mystics, which seems to have similar effects as trauma does on our prayer life. St. John of the Cross wrote that “in the dark night of the soul, bright flows the river of God.” He teaches us that God is nearer than ever before at times we feel he is farthest away. He says to go on “naked faith” and not to give up.
I have found it true that “God is close to the broken hearted, those whose spirit is crushed he will save.” (Psalm 34:18)
So if you are grieving a tragedy, experiencing trauma or post traumatic stress, and your’re having trouble with spirituality as a result don’t blame yourself. You haven’t done anything wrong. Nor have you lost God.
We know Mary and Joseph were holy and faithful people but they still lost Jesus for three days. Maybe you feel bereft but he is still there in the temple of your heart and you will find him again just as they did.
It’s ok to pray in ways you can handle. Don’t hold yourself to what you used to do. For me emotional overwhelm kept me from deeper methods of prayer after a tragedy in my life. I talked to Jesus about it. I told him, “I still love you. I just need you not to come so close for now. Can you sit farther away but still nearby?” So he sat with me but not too close. I chose what felt to me a less personal or emotional method of prayer. I memorized psalms, set prayers or passages from the mystics I love like St. Teresa of Avila and Julian of Norwich. When I could handle it I sat quietly and slowly went over them in my mind as a form of prayer/meditation. Other times all I could do was hold my rosary. These things slowly began to bring me peace again.
My friend Jim had said “the devil will try to kick you when you’re down and darkness tries to overwhelm you at times like this so keep doing the things that are of light: the rosary, going to mass, whatever you can do.” He said that would keep my lamp alight no matter what I was going through. He was right.
And after all:
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5
The first day of “clinicals” for CNA training (Certified Nurse Aide) my class showed up to the nursing home in our white scrubs at 6am. We would do this for three days in a row. We were to shadow the established CNA’s and sometimes follow our teacher around with the class, observe and also try out our skills we had learned in school.
I changed my first few adult diapers that day, with an acute realization of how embarrassing it must be for a patient to have that done until they were used to it. My teacher observed and made suggestions. I tried to make conversation with the people as I served them. It was awkward and weird and I think my face sweated with nervousness but I suppose that’s normal.
One guy I changed was aware and oriented but nonverbal. He graciously let me change him for practice but apparently I made a big mistake. Later in the day I noticed he glared at me whenever he saw me. I found out later that this was because the next time he had peed after I changed him pee went up out of the top of his diaper and got his shirt all wet. With a male patient you have to make sure – er – that there is a downward course for pee. I found him and told him I was sorry about that but he mean mugged me the rest of the time I was there. Oh well.
Later in the break room we had a chance to chat with the CNA’s that worked in the nursing home. To our complete surprise they urged us not to go through with doing this. “She broke her arm,” they said, nudging one of the group, who said, “My arm’s broke, my hearts’ broke, my backs’ broke. It ain’t worth it. It ain’t worth it.” They explained that they loved the patients, and that they each had at least one they were very close to that among themselves they referred to as their baby. “Of course you love them. You have to love them but when they die, it about kills you. “
It was really too late to turn back and we had done too much work and paid our tuition. All of us stayed on and finished our training.
I met some interesting people. There was a married couple who were able to room together. I remember their room had regular furniture in it and looked really cozy. There was a man who had filled his room with books and loved talking to us. There wasn’t time though. There never is. One caregiver has ten patients. By the time you finish getting everyone up and dressed fed changed and cleaned up in the morning it’s time for lunch. I didn’t like how even if one of them was crying there was no time to talk to them and try to help. Someone else in the next room had a physical need to be met. You had to keep going.
i remember one lady liked to play rap on her radio with the volume all the way up. She sat in her wheel chair with her forehead on the speaker with the music blaring all morning until lunch. Sometimes she would really get her head moving. It was impossible not to smile watching her.
Some of the people there were very tragic, very disabled, helpless and alone. It was hard to see that. I wanted to track their families down and yell at them when I heard they seemed to have no one.
Institutions always feel like timeless, placeless places to me, impersonal and eerie in a sense. There’s a lot going on but seemingly little warmth or connectedness. However if you’re there long enough they start to seem more human. Such was the case at the nursing home. I have heard the denizens of nursing homes described as “limp, faceless people in wheel chairs.” It really offended me. It isn’t true. The first time you see someone wheeled into the lobby who seems listless and unaware maybe it seems scary. Maybe they seem practically dead to some people? Lean into the experience, move toward them and not away and like me maybe you’ll find out there is a person there with a lot more going on than you thought. Maybe they are nonverbal or have trouble holding their head up or they’re babbling but that doesn’t mean they can’t receive or even express love. In fact a lot of them had such a need to love that the staff gave them baby dolls to hold. I saw several people carrying baby dolls.
A lady stopped me in the hall and told me how tired she was. “Please I’m so tired. Can you find me a bed?” I didn’t know where her room was and nobody around me knew. So I led her to a vacant room and tucked her into bed. She thanked me. “I worked so hard today,” she said. I said, “I know. You rest now.” I thought to myself that she had probably worked hard all of her life.
One day at lunch I was told to go and hand feed the people at a certain table if they needed it. I sat next to one lady who seemed pretty out of it. I greeted her but I couldn’t get her attention. So I scooped up some food in a spoon and held it up to her mouth. She looked at me and then grabbed a spoon, scooped up some food, and held it up to my mouth. I laughed. “Well you showd ME,” I told her. Apparently she could eat on her own if she wanted to.
I met a saintly man during that few days who became a friend. His name was Jim. I’ve written about him before.
I decided during those days that I was not going to work in a nursing home. The pay was only a couple dollars more an hour than minimum wage. I wanted the opportunity to spend more time with people I helped. I also like a less rushed kind of day.
However, I would go back many times to that nursing home. I took my final exam there. But I also spontaneously went over there to visit because it made me happy. if I was in a sad mood I would stop by and hang out in the lobby and watch a checker game. Or just hug people. Or go pray a rosary and have some coffee with my friend Jim.
Going there always made my day.
Bethany Hang Out 