Sean and I are in the car eating cherry slushies with spoons. He is in the back seat and I am sitting sideways in the front so I can see him. “Are you happy?” I ask him. He smiles very big, and says, “YES!” “Me too,” I say. “I’m pretty happy too.”
When I pick him up at the end of his day there are a variety of things he might say as he is handed into the car by his teacher. One of my favorites is, “Hello boys and girls.” That one cracks me up. He is a funny kid.
For a 13 year old he is pretty quiet most of the time. He has several voices though. Most often he speaks either in a bright staccato reminiscent of a character in an old cartoon, or in a soft, quiet voice he usually uses when he has more to say. When he speaks low I think it is because he is a little nervous about saying more so he talks really fast. “I’dliketolistentorockyroadtodublinplease.” This he says many times each day because The Rocky Road to Dublin is his favorite song. (He especially likes the version by the High Kings). Gaelic music is his jam. It’s all we listen to when we are together. It’s a good thing I like Irish music too.
He doesn’t particularly like me playing with his toys- which is a bummer because he has a lot of fun toys. His parents make sure he has exactly the right things that are fun and also good for him- lots of learning and sensory toys. He likes me to be with him when he plays but not for me to touch anything. Sometimes I sneak a piece of that cool slime putty but I give it back as soon as he notices. Eventually he lets me play too. I’m also a fan of his extensive rubber ducky collection. He spends a lot of time with those guys. Which means I do too of course. It’s a regular rubber ducky party sometimes.
Don’t be fooled by the wide, dreamy blue eyed gaze, the sweet, soft face and fuzzy head of this boy, all of which give him a hazy angelic look as if he is in another world. He can seem that he is thinking of something else or as if he isn’t aware of his surroundings. However, Sean is taking in everything.
His mom is a singer and she has been working on a new song lately. She is singing it in the kitchen and she pauses while she looks for something. In the pause Sean supplies the next phrase. She sings the next one. He sings the next one after that. He knows the whole song! We’re impressed. He has certainly been listening when his mom was practicing.
Sean is pretty calm and quiet most of the time- until he isn’t. His feelings are apparently pretty intense at times. To those of us on the outside the intensity appears sudden. He makes a heart rending announcement. “Oh no! Oh no! SAD! SAD!” We tell him we are sorry he is sad and ask him to take a deep breath. He is very good about this. He always does it when we ask him to and it always helps. I have loved seeing how understanding and compassionate his parents are when this happens. They are very good at encouraging, guiding and bringing out the best out in him.
Once he and I were at a playground and a little boy asked, “Why can’t he talk?” I said that he can, he just doesn’t most of the time. Then the boy asked, “Why do you follow him around like that?” Sean took off running right then. I said , “Because he does that!” And I took off after him. I found him hiding behind a column looking upset. “Are you upset?” “Yes.” “Is it because of what that little boy asked?” “Yes.” “Sean there is nothing wrong with you at all. You’re perfect just the way you are, OK?” “OK.”
On the way home I played him “The Rocky Road to Dublin,” as many times as he wanted.
Sean is loving and affectionate. He can be very cuddly especially when he is in the mood which is usually later in the day when he’s tired. He likes to get in his dad’s lap or in his arm chair with him, hug him and rub cheeks with him. They’re very adorable.
He likes to lay in my lap or embrace me and say, “Friends!” Which I love. He likes to stand in the kitchen with his mom touching foreheads and talking with her.
Sean seems really secure and to know he is valued. He seems to understand his special place in his family. He is lucky to have his grandparents nearby. He loves them and asks about them all the time. He has a lot of support. Families like this are great to see and an honor to work with.
Sean laughs a lot. Sometimes it’s the kind of laugh that makes him go running through the house like a madman, as if he can’t contain his joy and enthusiasm. Whatever is going on in his mind, it’s hilarious to him.
He has his little jokes with us. He might say, in his idiosyncratic sing- song, “seventy has five letters.” I say, “ nuh uh!” His mom says “how many is it really?” After a while he admits it has seven letters. Which he knows very well. He is quite amused by this. As for me I had to count the letters on my fingers to make sure.
Sometimes we are playing quietly or watching something and he says,” tickle me.” He may or may not laugh when I do but I have told him if I am going to go to the trouble I expect laughter. He obliges dramatically with satisfying shrieks.
Another common request from Sean is “high five.” Or he may say “H-5!” Sometimes he does want to high five. Other times what he really wants is to hold hands. So we do.
“Repeat after me,” I say, and he does, a word at a time. “I. AM. A. CUTIE PIE!”
Sometimes I ask, “Who’s a cutie pie?” He says, “SEAN!” “That’s right.” And he really is.
Sometimes he sits in the hammock and I sit in the swing and we listen to Irish music and are content. These are some of the nicest moments in my day- he and I swinging, listening to music and smiling at each other.
We are playing with a bunch of rubbery letters of the alphabet and Sean suddenly disappears. I’m surprised. I look down at the counter and he has spelled out a message in colorful plastic: BYE.
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. 🙂
Most of the people about to be deported and rounded up into camps are our fellow Catholics; people who are praying their rosaries scared to death. Our people. When the U.S. invaded Mexico Irish mercenaries were brought in to fight with the U.S.. But when they saw the flag of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the other side they refused to fight their fellow Catholics. They’re known as the San Patricios or The Saint Patrick Brigade, of 1846. I’ve been reflecting on their celebrated legacy in the wake of the protection of our churches as sanctuaries has been taken away.
We all need to think about how we will respond to possible raids during holy mass. What will you do?
Our Holy Father has said the way we treat migrants and refugees is as important as the way we treat the unborn. The Scripture says we must treat the alien as our native born and not persecute or oppress them. (Lv. 19: 33-34) The Catechism teaches us that they are to be treated in such a way as respects their human dignity, and with compassion.
The Church understands we can’t accept everyone who comes to us asking for asylum but that we should always treat them with empathy and understanding regardless. Catholics believe in the unconditional dignity of the human person made in the image and likeness of God. Jesus says whatever we do to the lowly we do to him. (Matt. 25:40)
The following are quotes from the Catechism of the Catholic Church on the topics of migration and immigration.
¶1911: Internal quote is from Gaudium et Spes: “The unity of the human family, embracing people who enjoy equal natural dignity, implies a universal common good. This good calls for an organization of the community of nations able to provide ‘for men’s different needs, both in the fields of social life—such as food supplies, health, education, labor and also in certain special circumstances which can crop up here and there, e.g., the need to promote the general improvement of developing countries, or to alleviate the distressing conditions in which refugees dispersed throughout the world find themselves, or also to assist migrants and their families. to alleviate the distressing conditions in which refugees dispersed throughout the world find themselves, or also to assist migrants and their families.’”
¶2211: “The political community has a duty to honor the family, to assist it, and to ensure especially… the right to private property, to free enterprise, to obtain work and housing, and the right to emigrate.”
¶2241: “The more prosperous nations are obliged, to the extent they are able, to welcome the foreigner in search of the security and means of livelihood which he cannot find in his country of origin. Public authorities should see to it that the natural right is respected that places a guest under the protection of those who receive him.”
¶2433: “Access to employment and to professions must be hope to all without unjust discrimination; men and women, healthy and disabled, natives and immigrants. For its part society should, according to circumstances, help citizens find work and employment.”
We may be having a moment here; a moment when God is asking us to stand up even though it’s scary. Everyone worries about the reputation of the Church. We have made our mistakes, often because of that worry. But we know what is right. I hope we won’t blow this and let this moment pass us by. We haven’t always stood up when we should have. We always worry about the balance between appeasing authority to effect change or avoid interference in our affairs, and being faithful to our mission and our call to radical love and to “speak truth to power” as some say. I hope our leaders won’t just straddle the fence. In some of what’s going on we will have to pick a side. Let it be the side of the lowly, the persecuted and the oppressed, the stranger, the immigrant, the refugee.
A friend asked, “I wonder how many of them are named Jesus’. “
“All of them,” I said.
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.
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.
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.
Triumph of the Cross is today. It sounds like “ha ha what a win” but I never think of it that way. I think of intense love, non-violence, humility, sacrifice in the face of indifference, cruel efficiency, fear and profound misunderstanding. The death of the Lord confused Satan a lot because it was something he would never do. He waited for Jesus to come down from the cross and be a lion, challenge him to a fight or a match of wills, anything. I think he even wondered what was wrong with these people around Jesus who either ran away or merely stood by. He had no understanding of love. He is a powerful super intelligent being but humility, love and sacrifice, forgiveness he can’t understand at all. In that moment I don’t think he understood anything. Neither did most people. It’s still a bit of a problem for us, especially the take up YOUR cross part. It’s a big big ask. Only the One who really did that can help us to do such a thing and find the flowers in it. So we have to ask him all the time for that.
Bethany Hang Out 