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My new book I finished writing this summer

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This summer I finished my manuscript for a new book. The working title is Pray Like Teresa; how to pray the Prayer of Recollection of St. Teresa of Avila. The publisher will decide the official title. I agonized a lot writing it but that seems to be part of my creative process unfortunately. It was also my solace during a stressful summer as it turned out to be.

When I have a project on I continually “write” in my head until it’s finished. Then it’s hard for me to stop messing with it and to stop thinking about it all the time. I enjoyed St. Teresa’s accompaniment during the months of working on this little book for her. I hope she is happy with it.

The book is short, only 15,000 words, about half the length of my first one, Come to Mary’s House; spending time with Our Blessed Mother. It is also more instructional than Come to Mary’s House. I would describe the general vibe of the book as St. Teresa with a Shawn twist. I tried to stay absolutely true to Tersa’s teachings and to work in my own Teresian spirituality and experience as well.

An important goal I had for this book was to help everyday Catholics and others to get to know Teresa’s teachings in a friendly way. I included St. Teresa’s struggles and sense of humor along with her teachings on the Prayer of Recollection and her basic foundational teachings that underpin it. I hope for the reader to see that contemplative prayer is for everyone and that this method of prayer is one anyone can do.

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I also wanted to show why contemplative prayer is desirable, not only for the growth of the person who prays but for the good of the Church and the whole world. In this way I believe deepening inner prayer and contact with God, friendship with Jesus, and the practice of a life of prayer are urgent necessities in our world today and for the renewal of the Church.

A lot of people may be intimidated by Teresa of Avila because of her profound mystical experiences, because she is the “Doctor of Prayer,” and such a great figure of Catholic spirituality. Maybe they had not thought of reading her works before because they were written about 500 years ago and they assume she is inaccessible and too Medieval to be understandable or applicable to their lives.

I hope the reader will find that St. Teresa was also very human, witty, funny, practical and grounded. Her wisdom is relevant to anyone wanting to live the spiritual life, to grow in prayer, to this day. I hope I have provided a simple way to take up this prayer that Teresa said the Lord himself taught her, to anyone who picks this book up.

I think it would be a perfect book to take to Adoration with you, enriching your prayer in that hour with Jesus, or to keep by the place you like to sit when you pray daily. One could easily read a section each day and try the part of the prayer that section suggests.

I intend to encourage everyone who reads this book to try the prayer, to stick with it, along with giving practical ideas to help them be consistent.

I arranged it as an introduction to Teresa herself, and then I played out reflectively her basic discoveries about prayer such as friendship with Jesus, his Sacred Humanity, and God being experienced as within us.

Then I wrote a section about each step of the prayer and how to do it, each one headed by a quote from Teresa or from Scripture.

I allowed myself the pleasure of writing about the effects of the prayer as well and let myself get poetic about those but not overly so I hope. I wanted to communicate the beauty and joy of intimate love of God.

I am hoping this book will appeal to the everyday Catholic who may be being called by God to cast their nets into the deep or at least the deeper or even a little bit deeper. Whether the reader takes up everything in the book as part of their daily prayer life or not I hope reading it will improve their prayer life and their relationship with the Lord at least a little. I think it will.

My parish is primarily young people in college. They are remarkably devout, however. I can imagine some of them being interested in this book. I thought of them while I was writing, but also of people my own age or so (I’m 56) who at this time of life may be more interested in contemplation and want to give it daily time. I want it to speak to anyone who looks through it.

I turned in my manuscript to Our Sunday Visitor on Assumption Day, a few days early. But I thought it was a good way to honor Our Lady and St. Teresa, whose habit (the Carmelite habit) she wore.

Look for the new book August 25th, 2025

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Cookies in spirit

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Something Zane loved to do was make cookies. This is something we did nearly every day. I used to hold his hand to help him crack an egg and make sound effects for him. He liked that. He used to try to eat the butter and show his enthusiasm for our baking activity by mouthing the bowl. His very favorite part was pouring the mix into the bowl. I used to say, “Here comes your favorite part!” I bought the same cookie mix today and I’m in my kitchen making cookies in spirit with Zane, smiling and chuckling at the parts of our process that I remember.

Well. my granddaughter will be happy and surprised to see cookies when she gets home from school.

  • Zane was a young nonverbal autistic guy with cerebral palsy that I took care of for the last four years of his life. He died at 20 years old on August 22.
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Decisions. I hate those things.

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I have been rather dysfunctional lately. I go to work (I still have one of my jobs) and I come home, do the minimum such as take care of my chickens cats and dogs. Then I lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling. My heart hurts. I feel like I am dying. It’s grief of course, for Zane, who died suddenly and unexpectedly August 22 of this year.

At the same time I have lost my job. I took care of Zane for about four years. I also take care of Mac, another special needs young man.

So I have lost my main job, my job with Zane, which is a crisis in itself. It’s hard to make decisions when you’re grieving and it’s not the best time to do it. However, I don’t have time to do this any other way.

I really love working with special needs young people. I seem to have a knack especially with those who are nonverbal. It is a calling I believe, to do this work. It’s a work that is love. It means a lot to me.

I interviewed with a new family. It went very well and they would love me to come work for them. I liked them too. I said I would let them know in a day or two. Then I cried in the car and had to go over and hug Zane’s mom. We sat on the couch and talked for a while about Zane, about things. Her loss is so great I had to stop typing for a few seconds just now thinking of it. I feel guilty talking about my own grief but I can’t help it.

When my mom got restless or had a problem she needed to think about, she re-arranged the furniture and cleaned madly. Sometimes she pulled up carpet or made new curtains and painted the living room to match. I’m not good at sewing. I don’t have money for paint. So I stuck with re-arranging the furniture and cleaning madly.

I talked to my friend Shawna who somehow manages to give me clarity when I need it. I continued to clean madly. My dogs were a little concerned.

I thought about how I am worried about the pay for a prospective new job which is far less than I made at my last. I wondered how I would pay the mortgage now. I finally got a house and I am not giving it up. I was thinking about what to do about that.

However the main issue is grief. It’s hard for me to think of replacing Zane and trying to love someone new already. I reflect that I have never failed to love anyone I have taken care of. In the nursing home where I did my clinicals there is no way to really get to know the people you care for. You take care of their immediate physical needs and even if they’re crying or something you have ten other patients you have to get to who need to be changed or whatever. Even then I always cared for each one in a loving way as best I could. That’s just how I do it. I can do this.

I have a daughter in college. I will do whatever I can to make sure she gets as far with her education as she wants to. She is busy applying for master’s programs lately. No matter what she is going. My other daughter has been going through hell this summer. It’s pretty unimaginable the way she is holding it together. However she needs me. Sometimes she needs my help. I’m going to be here ready.

If there is anything in my life I have learned to do it’s grieve and fight for my family at the same time.

I can work out the pay part somehow but I prayed about my next person to take care of. I think this could be the one I asked for or was led to. . I think I will try it and do my best.

The dogs needn’t worry. I think I am through cleaning for now.

OK, Beloved Lord. Lead on.

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An Honor Walk


Today I did something I have never done before. I took part in an “honor walk” for someone I love very much who has died- just yesterday in fact.
I had never heard of an honor walk before. This is something that was done today for this person so beloved by so many. I can’t tell you who this person is to me because the family has not shared anything on line as far as I know so I won’t either.

However I thought this honor walk was pretty touching. Everyone came at such short notice and it was a lot of people!

It had to be carried out quickly due to the family’s decision to donate the organs “so he can be the answer to another family’s prayers.”

His body would be flown to Dallas for this purpose.

This death was sudden and tragic. Everyone I saw there in the ICU was still dazed from the shock of it. Hospital staff had us line the halls. Some of the people had signs with pictures of him saying “We love you.”

We seemed to stand there a long time. I didn’t know many of the others though I could guess who many of them were. I introduced myself to some I had heard the most about. I regretted that I somehow forgot my rosary. I always have one in my pocket but I didn’t remember today. I made desultory conversation with an interesting young person next to me whom I had met several times before. It was awkward or I worried it was.

I repeated “Jesus Maria” in my head as I tried not to let my emotions or my social anxiety overwhelm me.

In High School my best friend, Philip, was killed in a car accident. I remembered vividly watching his mother, Helen, go stoically through all of the necessary procedures. Afterwards I tried to stay close to her through the varying stages of her grief and mine.

A lot of feelings from my past came up standing there because I felt so terrible for the family. I remembered the last time I would ever see my first husband’s face after he had died in a car crash when he was twenty-eight. I had to ask my dad and brother to remove me so the funeral home people could close his casket because I just couldn’t leave Marc’s side. Standing and waiting today I kept thinking of the trauma, shock and horror this family must feel in these last moments with the body. I felt those feelings of horror and bottomless darkness from my past that I wish I could save them from.

I had to sort things out. I didn’t want to avoid my own grief for this person now. But I also needed to be present and remind myself that this is not my trauma. This is their trauma. This is their day, his day. I wanted to pray and to be there. I wanted to grieve this person and not my other people I’ve lost. I so wanted to strengthen the family and love them. As someone who is all full of trauma and loss myself this was hard to do.

Staff handed out water bottles and tissue. I noticed I was crying a little bit. That’s a sign of healing for me because I did not have that ability for many years. It is a recent development.

Finally the hospital bed carrying our person was pushed between the two lines of people from the other end of the hall. Everyone stood in silence. After the family had passed we followed. He was propped up on pillows. His eyes had some kind of shiny stuff on his closed eyelids. There was a ventilator tube coming out of his mouth. There was the face I loved, empty of expression now. He didn’t even look that empty when he was sleeping. He was definitely gone. Still I mentally told him I loved him knowing he could spiritually hear. I asked him to look after his family.

Finally we came to an open door leading to a kind of dock. A chaplain invited us to pray together which we all did. A hospital staff member of some kind read out some words of gratitude for what the family was about to do, and a blessing. She cried while she did it. The mother of our person spoke to him for a while some loving words. I couldn’t hear them exactly. And he was sent out.

I saw a beloved grandmother in the hall and hugged her and the weeping grandfather too.

The parents hugged me. I so wanted to be a comfort to them. I think I was. It seemed that way.

We were all guided back out to the lobby where I joined my step mom and daughter who had come with me, having known him too. I had stood with the family and close friends. My step mom had pushed me over there. I hadn’t been sure I should be so forward but it worked out.

I thought the honor walk was beautiful. It was fitting. It was just like the family, who are so loving, to do this.

I will think about it for a long time.

This is not my trauma but the family’s. However, I grieve. I do grieve terribly.


Now that the family has openly shared about Zane’s death I can too. I was his care giver since he was 16. I loved him – I do love him- very much.


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O Brother where art thou

I did not cry for nine years after you self destructed like a kamikaze in our midst. There are not even any pieces left to sort through. Where did you go and why couldn’t I stop you. We were closer than close and I should have known when you locked me out what was coming. We always said when we didn’t spend time together neither of us was right in ourselves so we should always make sure to connect no matter what was going on. You kept trying to apologize, trying to come back into our front porch days. You said “When I hurt you I hurt me and I can’t stand that I hurt your feelings. I hate that.” And I always said it was ok. I said we can work through anything just like we always have. I had faith in that. Absolute faith. How crazy did you have to be for me to not be surprised. Denial is more powerful than I ever thought. When you said “I’m scared I might be mentally ill,” I should not have reassured you that you weren’t. The last time I saw you I hugged you brother and I rubbed your little head. You looked like a small boy that day who had been sick, safe at his parents’ dinner table. Your letter to Dad said I would be OK. Well I’m not. None of us are. You must have hurt so badly to do something like that. You just needed it to stop. I thought oh he will be back like always. He just needs to think. I was so close. But I think you thought we were far away and you had no idea how to get back. You couldn’t find us. And you thought we couldn’t help. I finally cried the other night and it was about something else. It felt weird. It didn’t last long. I wish I could miss you the way I miss everyone else. But there is just a void where you used to be. Like the Mariana Trench. No one knows what’s down there, only how unfathomably deep it must be. I’ve been there. But I couldn’t understand anything.





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Summer Evening Magnificat

Evenings are my favorite time of day. Especially after the bustle of family end of day reunions, when the cooking and dinner and cleaning up is done I feel both alert and recollected.

The evenings I love most are summer evenings. There is relief from the heat of the day (sort of,) the cicadas and crickets are chanting their vespers, the neighborhood birds gather along the power line to pray and to gab about the day. I love the colors of the light at this time; rose and gold and the blue tint as dusk approaches.

Time to bring the chickens in.

They’re ready for me at the gate, waddling in a line of fluffy butts to their coop for the night.

And I love this traditional time to recite the Magnificat. I like best saying it by a window looking out so I can bless the world with Mary and her vision of the Kingdom of her Son.

Get you some iced tea now. Go to a window and pray it with us. Bless the world out there.

And Mary said,

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on his lowly handmaiden.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him 
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children forever.” (Luke 1:46-55)
Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

.


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The Perpetual Help of Mary

Today is Our Lady of Perpetual Help. I just don’t know what I would do without Mary. Why would anyone want to live without her? Sometimes I want to tell people just to give friendship with her a shot, try it for themselves and they will see right away what she is to us. When I think of Our Lady of Perpetual help, I think of how she was and is a good Jewish Mother. When we are in trouble, she moves in, cleans up, takes over, thinks of the little things that are actually big things we need. She rubs our back, she asks us if we’ve eaten, she calls her Son with updates. She makes sure we take a nap and have a snack and a glass of water.

She says, “Tell me what else I can do. How can I help? I told Jesus not to be late he will be here in a minute. Until then, here is some soup I just made. And a sandwich. Here you need more water you cried so much. Here’s a tissue. Wipe your nose. There you go. You know how much I love you, right? We all love you and you’re going to be OK. We will make sure.”

One time I had been crying for hours. I went to adoration and there were no tissues in there. I was annoyed. They usually have some. I got home and checked the mail. I kid you NOT I opened an envelope from a religious organization and in it there was a small packet of tissues. On it there was a picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. I had to laugh.

“Here, blow your nose, and go back out and play.”

She’s the best.

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Yes I did say 70×7 but stop freaking out about it

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Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
 Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seventy times.

Mtt. 18 21-22

It’s been almost nine years but I’m still not sure whether I have forgiven it or not. I still struggle with how I am supposed to forgive someone who turned out not to be who I thought they were. Forgive who? What was that who was that?

In the aftermath I realized I was thinking of the whole mess about once every 15 seconds. I began training myself to repeat the names of Jesus and Mary any time I caught myself dwelling on the whole thing. I had dwelt on it long enough truly. I increased my prayer time. I decided to try to stop talking about it. It helped a lot. Slowly I didn’t think about it, not even every week.

I went to Confession. In exasperation I asked the priest, “How do I get to Father forgive them for they know not what they do?” He said my penance would be to go out and meditate on the crucifix in the church and ask the Lord, “Father forgive me for I knew not what I did.” Instant peace came to me then.

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As time passed I realized that I “forgave” this person over and over again while they were still in my daily life but not in any real way because what I did was be upset about what they had done, avoid them for a while and then simply go on as before so that they did the same things again and again. My kids suffered emotional scars because of this lack of boundaries on my part. I let this person be with us for so long. At the time I didn’t realize how much the girls were harmed especially when they were still young. How did I fall into this trap? How could I not know how mean this person was being to them? Even the things I did know about them should have been bad enough. I should have not allowed this person around my daughters. I certainly did do things I didn’t know I was doing. Those mistakes seem crazy now.

Then at a time of another tragedy in my life, this person set out to ruin my reputation, blame me, interfere with my friendships and even my family relationships, to tell distorted versions of my private sufferings, commandeer one of my daughters with lies and emotional scenes when she needed me most and was too young ti break out of that situation. This person deeply hurt my other daughter as well during a time of grief and shock for my family with hateful accusations and not allowing her to retrieve what was hers and precious to her from the house. This person also participated in grave financial harm to me and one of my kids that we will never recover from. I was emotionally and socially betrayed on a level that was traumatic enough to keep me curled up on the couch for days. I never thought they would go that far especially at a time like that. Why was I shocked? I can’t answer that fully.

One thing I have learned from all this is that being a forgiving Christian does not mean having destructive people in my life. Even Jesus had boundaries.

But Jesus did not entrust himself to them because he knew their hearts.

Jn. 2:24

However I sometimes still feel angry at this person, even after I have peeled away several layers of resentment and reached certain levels of forgiveness. I didn’t feel that it was complete. Because of those feelings of rage coming up now and then, especially recently, I tend to think of this person every time I pray the Our Father. How can I forgive this person as God forgives me? God forgives me more than completely. God is mercy, God is love. I always ask that I will be able to do this. I have learned forgiveness is a grace. We just have to be willing to receive it. Was I willing? I didn’t know. My mom used to say that sometimes we have to ask to be willing. Other times we have to be ask to be willing to be willing. Sometimes the situation is so difficult we have to pray to be willing to be willing to be willing. I think this is like that.

Recently, sitting quietly in prayer, I felt that the Lord untangled my thinking a bit about what forgiveness looks like in a situation like this. In a flash I understood that all Jesus wanted from me now was to pray for this person’s salvation. I felt my heart open as it seemed the Holy Spirit prayed in me for just that: for this destructive person’s salvation. It was an understated but all the same beautiful moment. I understood that God did not need my tortuous worry about my lingering feelings about this, or the useless dead end paths of my self judgement or scrupulosity on this point. Just prayer for their salvation that is all. The rest was between that person and God. Oh.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Cor. :8-9a

Then I prayed the our Father in freedom and when I said, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” I almost felt a kiss from Jesus, and I had to smile. I love that guy.

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A ridiculous story

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I forgot something in my post about what I did this summer. It’s just a ridiculous story. My life seems to be dotted with crazy stories involving animals. Here is another one.

My eldest daughter lives out in the country. She had a neighbor she was going to get me some chickens from. I like to raise them from chicks (it’s more fun) but I was open to it. I wouldn’t have to wait until spring this way. I requested hens only, all different colors so I could tell them apart and get to know them, and I asked for only four of them.

I wasn’t ready yet though. My daughter helped us move and at the end of the day offered to go pick up those chickens. I said I hadn’t had the chance to get a coop ready for them or anything. She said they had told her it’s today or never.

I don’t think sometimes so I said OK I would figure it out. I worked on it but there is just no rushing something like that. When she pulled up in her truck I was still excited to meet them though. Maire said, “Well these look like a different kind of chicken. And there are six of them. I was’t sure what to do so I went ahead and took them.”

They sure were loud. I looked in at them. They looked like turkeys and seemed almost as big. They looked at me and started screaming at me. I said, “These aren’t chickens.”

Maire said, “What do you want me to do? I can take them but the coyotes will get them for sure.” “I guess for the moment we can put them in the garage.” So we dragged the large dog crate they were banging around in, those crazy things, into the garage.

After she left I decided to try hanging out with them for a while and see what they were all about. I was trying not to be disappointed. Chickens are funny and endearing. These things were a little scary. I noticed one of them seemed slower and more hapless than the others. She kept getting separated from them and freaking out. The others had to call to her and find her. I started to worry because by my reckoning it was probably about 120 degrees in the garage. I couldn’t leave them in there. I thought of a truckload of chickens that broke down years ago and how all the chickens got too hot and died. Hundreds of them. I couldn’t risk that. I didn’t have a coop for them but my yard was fenced. So I decided to let them out where at least they wouldn’t die of heat.

To let them into the back yard they had to come through a room that probably used to be a back porch. We call it the sun room. The birds shot into the sun room screaming their heads off. I opened the back door and most of them ran out to the yard. That slow one got stuck in the shower somehow and was hitting the walls and screaming like a banshee flapping her wings. My dog was barking and the cats went streaking from the scene. I finally managed to catch her and get her to her friends outside.

I went out with them to see what happened. My dog was going berserk at the back door. They poked around for a minute, checking out the situation and then they all flew away.

I don’t know why I was shocked. Maybe because chickens can fly but not really. I rarely have had a chicken go over the fence. Trying to roost in the trees on a low branch, yes but just… leaving?

So I was shocked. How disloyal of them!

Admittedly we didn’t really know each other.

Well what now? Should I try to catch them? That did not seem possible. And where would I put them? I didn’t have a place for them anyway.

Then I thought, “Did any of the neighbors see this?” I didn’t think so. I hoped not. They would surely not be any too happy to have me as a new neighbor if they did.

I was worried about the not-chickens. One of ,my employers has a background in poultry science. So I asked him if they would be alright. He said they were guinea hens and ill suited for “urban life.” He said they were very loud and obnoxious. I could agree with that. He said even if I caught them they would just leave again unless I caged them which sounded like a sad life. Apparently they would be fine. We even live near a creek.

I found out they will eat squirrels and other rodents or any small animals. My boss said that if I had chickens they would have attacked them and eaten them. They sounded like real charmers.

I actually was impressed with their loyalty to each other, though, and their care for the slower membr of their group. Also they mate for life which is cool.

However none of that mattered because the situation with those things was completely out of my hands.

We saw them from time to time over the next several days walking along the road or in a neighbor’s yard. Something about this cracked us up.

Just when we thought they had moved on we would hear them in the trees next door screeching. Taking the trash out one night it sounded like one of them got separated from the others and was calling out. The others answered back from across the street, like “Is that you Mabel?”

This happened again another time and the whole gang ran single file down the alleyway looking ridiculous and sounding insane, to reunite with their friend.

I had to laugh as they went by like a gaggle of old ladies on the attack. But it is cool how they take care of each other.

My youngest daughter saw them all the way over at St. Joseph’s walking along a busy road seemingly arguing with one another.

In fact I saw them today already walking through our front yard. They’re still hanging around the area. Screaming.

Sometimes people drive by those goonie birds, laughing when they see them. I guess it’s a “what the heck!?” kind of laugh.

I hope they haven’t killed too many squirrels or carried off anybody’s chihuahua.

Yes I confess I have released a terrorist avian gang into my new neighborhood.

Sorry.

If you want to hear what they sound like I found a video on YouTube.

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