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Holy Innocents

Today is the Feast of the Holy Innocents, the toddlers and babies killed by Roman soldiers at Herod’s orders after Joseph fled to Egypt with Jesus and Mary.

I have never liked the traditional way of describing these kids as martyrs. A martyr chooses death rather than betraying Christ. Little children suffer and die before the age of consent and from the terrible things adults do.

I also am not sure abortion is exactly the best modern comparison to what happened that day. As far as we know the tiny innocents in their mother’s womb do not have consciousness yet. I imagine them, at least early on, as in a dreamlike bliss, violently but quickly disturbed and ended by abortion. Abortion is violent and tragic in several ways. However, as Pat Benatar sang, “Hell is for children.”

This is a good day to pray for children around the world who suffer the violence and callousness of adults, especially from state sponsored terror and genocide where there is no safety, no relief, where parents cannot protect them, such as in Gaza where parents write their children’s names on their limbs in case they are killed so they can be identified, where children are orphaned, maimed, under the rubble, starving, sometimes being operated on without anesthesia if they are lucky enough to find care at all. Surely their blood cries out to the Lord. We all know the outrageous numbers. Hell is for children.

Ukrainian children suffer war as well, and I am struck by the fact that Russia is taking the children away from their parents and into Russia. It reminds me of our child separation policy during the last Trump administration; something a lot of us lost sleep over, protested but felt powerless to stop. The damage to those little ones is profound and many of them were sexually abused as well, or never reunited with their families. It’s a method of torture I believe, to do this to kids and their parents. Some of those children were nursing babies.

In many countries life is so dangerous or poverty is so great that parents are forced to flee with their children to find safety or go where life is possible only to be rebuffed and unwanted, subjected to detention or camps or sent back to the dangers they fled after an often long and dangerous journey.

In Sudán, famine threatens and children die of malnutrition as parents look on helplessly. This is happening in so many countries.

I haven’t heard what life is like for the children of Haiti as their country descends further into chaos, violence, and gang rule.

We know children are forced to fight and kill in parts of the world. Children are trafficked and live lives of nightmarish abuse.

Children are abused in their churches, schools, and families and too often the abusers are protected instead of the children.

And here in America, the leading cause of death for our children is gun violence. .

These are things adults have done or conditions the world of adults have created that massacre the souls minds and bodies of children who deserve safety and love, freedom to be kids. These are the holy innocents of our time.

This is overwhelming. What are we supposed to do? Jesus was stern about any harm done to little ones.

We need to be a part of lessening their suffering, advocating for them, of challenging the structural sin of our world, and the wrong headedness of the powers that be. Nothing will change if we don’t.

Hell is for children, but we are allied with Heaven and we hold the gift of prayer given to us by God. As we stand up for children and help as we can, God makes our prayers and actions big and far reaching. We can be everywhere he is, holding frightened children, drying tears, giving strength, transforming the world.

Holy Spirit, we pray for the Holy Innocents of our time and we dedicate this day to them. You are the comforter and the giver of life, the one who strengthens, uplifts, transforms, the Spirit of Love and Truth, Father of the Poor. Make your way through this world bringing light and nourishment and peace. Make us repent of the sins of the world and show us what we must do. Guide our prayer for every child everywhere in need of rescue and relief of sorrow and fear. May our leaders prioritize the needs and rights of children to safety and freedom and family life.

Bless every little heart on earth on this day of the Innocents.

December 28, 2024 1

The face of Mary

It is Our Lady of Guadalupe day today. It is the only divine portrait of Mother Mary we have. And she chose to appear as an indigenous young woman, one of the little ones, the poor and oppressed of this world as we tend to forget she actually was in her earthly life. She deeply identifies with the poor and marginalized just as her Son does. And we can find her in all the places he said he would be; among those we tend to reject. Let’s not miss an opportunity to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face when she comes to us with hidden roses. May God imprint her image in our souls.

December 13, 2024 0

Mary’s Divine Peace: A Reflection on Faith

It must have seemed to Mary that the sky smiled at her, that she was infused with tenderness and peace. When she looked around her at the world maybe she felt God telling her, “All this is yours, and you are mine.”
At night when her family was asleep maybe she let herself into the quiet space of her heart to ponder the prophecies of her people, marveling at how vivid and alive these words were to her now. There was so much she didn’t understand but her trust left a gentle smile on her mouth as she drifted into sleep.

“The days are coming, says the LORD,
when I will fulfill the promise
I made to the house of Israel and Judah.
In those days, in that time,
I will raise up for David a just shoot ;
he shall do what is right and just in the land.
In those days Judah shall be safe
and Jerusalem shall dwell secure;
this is what they shall call her:
“The LORD our justice.” Jeremiah 33:14-16 💜

December 1, 2024 0

A reign like no other

Our king is not a king of this world who has to seek or cling to power. He would never scrabble for control of others. He did not seek wealth. He did not fight for victory over anyone, or use force on anyone who disagreed with him. Everyone was and is free to walk away or to take on his gentle yoke.

When asked to show force or use vengeance he refused. When asked to punish someone, the ones who asked ended up walking away in silence, contemplating their own sins.

He was clear about who he was but he never had to brag about anything. Why would he? He was quietly in charge of every star, every atom, every quark, every beetle, every galaxy. His spirit upheld all things. “I am that I am” God told Moses when he asked him his name. He just Is.

And he knew who he was.

When Pilate asked Jesus if he was a king Our Lord’s answer showed us we didn’t understand the kind of king he really was.

Our worldly minds, even as his followers, still find it hard to understand someone who has absolute power but instead chooses dusty feet and sacrificial love.

Can you imagine a mosquito landing on you and biting you? And instead of smacking the mosquito you die for it to save it? We are less than mosquitos given the scale of creation and the absolute power of God. But we are everything to him because he loves us, each one like the only one.

What kind of king is Christ? The kind of king who is infinite but makes himself small for us so we can be friends. The kind of king who washes our feet, shares his rule with us for the small exchange of our love. Indeed we are crowned with the stars in his eyes when he looks at us. He makes us like himself, he lifts us up, he washes our feet, feeds us, dresses us in his own bright finery.

What does this kind kind of Christly kingship mean for us? He summed up his expectations of us by saying “love one another as I have loved you.” He would have us love humbly, sacrificially and completely. He said that if we had authority in this world we should never lord it over those in our charge. He never did. He didn’t have to. It means that we should be grounded in the dignity he gives each of us, in his gift of free will, his unfathomable and tender humility. We reflect his heart, keeping him always at the center seeing with his eyes.

I heard in a homily once from Bishop Bill Wack that 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8 could be taken to describe the Lord. We know God is love. So we just read the passage replacing the word love with his name.

“Jesus is patient, Jesus is kind. He does not envy, he does not boast, he is not proud. He does not dishonor others, he is not self-seeking, he is not easily angered, he keeps no record of wrongs. Jesus does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Jesus always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres

Jesus never fails.”

To see how you are doing following this King of ours, go back now and this time put your name in in place of “Love.”

I think we all have a way to go. It’s a good thing we have him to help us.

How can we serve a King like this one? A king who washes feet? Who gives freely? Who rules by love and asks for nothing else?

By washing feet, by giving freely, being ruled by love alone.

November 24, 2024 0

Remembering the Aggie Bonfire Tragedy

If you are not familiar with Aggie Bonfire it was a long standing Texas A&M University tradition. It was the largest bonfire in the world. When I was a child we could see its flames from our front yard. My mom used to have the hose ready because the cinders would drift over the roofs of our neighborhood. Fire trucks would line the field it was held in.

It was designed by A&M Engineering students. It got bigger every year. It was the funnest to attend when I was a teenager. The Corps of Cadets formed a ring around it to keep drunk people from getting too close. It was a huge community wide party. The Aggie band was there and there was lots of singing and cheers.

A&M does not have cheer leaders. We have yell leaders. Cadet Trainees in overalls with no shirts leading. The yelling.

There was an old fashioned outhouse on top with our rival schools’ initials on it. Bonfire burned the night before our game with them. I say “our” even though I was never a student there. My parents were. Not me. However if you grow up here you’re part of it. Not much else goes on around here.

The weeks before bonfire are when the building happens. It’s a night and day thing. Girls signed up to be “bonfire buddies” and bring snacks and hot drinks and encouragement to the kids working on it. The entire process took three weeks or so. It involved giant cranes. You could see students climbing all over it in their hard hats tying logs with wire, watch its progress as you drove past on the Main Street of the town, Texas Avenue.

November 18 1999 was the end of it.

The Bonfire collapsed in the early hours just before 3am.

I woke up a bit before that with an intense urge to get up and pray the rosary. I tried to ignore it especially since I had my toddler asleep in my arms. “Get up! Pray now! Get your rosary and pray now! Now!” So I did. We lived near campus then. In the midst of my sleepy prayers I heard ambulances and sirens – more then I had ever heard before. That day I was giving Communion at the hospital. I saw staff crying in the halls, parents gathering in a glass room waiting to hear about their kids. I took communion to a young Aggie CT in intensive care but he was unconscious so I just prayed.

If you are from here do y’all remember how we were asked to stay off the phone so parents could get through to find their kids? And how the restaurants offered meals? And how our priests heard confession from young people trapped under the logs? And how all the other schools sent banners that were tied between the trees around the site? I don’t miss bonfire though I grew up with it. I’m glad they don’t do it anymore. Later I found out one of the dead was a cousin of mine from a part of the family I didn’t really know. She was a freshman and we were supposed to get together for coffee. Jamie Hand. Anyway I doubt anyone who was here for that could ever forget any of it. God bless all the families who lost someone.

November 19, 2024 1

What do we do now?

After my husband Bob was diagnosed with a grade 4 brain tumor and we found out it was glioblastoma multiform, we went in our room and closed the door and sat on the bed staring. We had been so positive and hopeful. We had laughed in the hospital and kept our chins up. But this was terrible news. After a while I said, “What do you want to do? What do we do?” And he said, squeezing my hand, “We love, we walk on.” I smiled at him. “What else is there?” That’s right. That’s all anybody’s got. We love, we walk on.

My husband Bob Chapman died 12 years ago. His walk with cancer was heroic and inspiring. He continued to love and serve others as he fought cancer. He bloomed creatively. He started painting. He played guitar and sang every day for as long as his arm would still work for him. He continued to learn and discover. He deepened his relationships. He came to love God.

Bob was a real person. We had fights. He could be such a jerk. He had a hard time adjusting to not being able to talk at work and he felt inadequate and angry. It didn’t help that the steroids he had to take sometimes made him want to fight his friends. It actually makes me smile to remember his faults and the times he was mean and stubborn. He wasn’t perfect at all.

He didn’t pretend to feel any other way than how he felt. He felt all the same things everyone does going through cancer and facing death. But he did it. He loved and he walked on.

I think that is exactly what we have to do now. It’s actually kind of hard.

Pray for us Bob.

November 6, 2024 1

“My arm’s broke, my heart’s broke, my back’s broke;” care giving stories from the nursing home

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.

October 25, 2024 0

My new book I finished writing this summer

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.

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

October 5, 2024 1

Should America “Turn back to God?”

I see bumper stickers and social media posts and hear comments about how America should turn back to God and how we should pray for that or enact laws to that effect. Right now a law is being discussed that curriculum in Texas public schools should include Bible stories. Whether that will make people “turn back to God” or not I don’t know. I just have to rave a little bit right now. And here are some questions I think should be considered when we say our nation should “turn back to God.”

When was our nation with God to begin with? When we kidnapped and enslaved Africans for hundreds of years? When we murdered the indigenous peoples for land? When we forced their children into schools away from their parents to rid them of their cultures and languages and otherwise abuse them even to death? Maybe we were with God when we used to have school prayer but practiced corporal punishment? Or when we lynched black men on Saturday and went to church Sunday and never saw the conflict? Maybe we were closer to God during Jim Crow and segregation. Or perhaps when we put Japanese Americans in internment camps. Or maybe it was when women couldn’t own property or vote? Or go to college? Or were basically their husbands’ property? Or when we used to accuse women of being witches and burn them alive? Maybe it was when we used to do nothing about violence against women; when the police would say it was a private matter? Possibly we were the holiest when it was thought that rape was usually the woman’s fault and women lied about it? Or when sexual harassment was just an expected thing women had to put up with?

Maybe we should think about what it means to “turn back to God.” Does it mean saying some words of prayer or calling “Lord Lord?” Or is it living in righteousness and compassion and mercy with God because of our love for him and because his love has filled our hearts to love others?

We will know ourselves by our fruits Hopefully these will be the fruits of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

Because God is love. And there is no other way to turn to him. It doesn’t mean turning “back” to anything but to keep growing and walking ahead with love for God and neighbor. It means opening our hearts.