Over at the Register Today

Just discovered I have a piece over there...How to Make Sure You're Not Swallowing a Different Gospel.

Have a Piece over at Aleteia today!

Goal of 2016?  Write and get a piece published every week if possible, every month if not.  And to finish my book and lose 20 pounds.  If I'm going to try, I'm going to try big.  

Here's to starting off strong:  The Good Shepherd One Pew Up.

God Is Fixing This

When the world seems darkest, the only proper response is deliberate light, deliberate hope, deliberate prayer and deliberate charity.  The world would tell you, God isn't fixing this.  The Daily News says as much with it's cover today, scourging politicians for offering prayers as solace to the victims and their families.   The thought is somehow, more laws, more regulations would have prevented this couple from dropping off their six month old daughter at grandmothers before suiting up to kill as many as they could.   Maybe.  But I do not think so.  Hearts so ground to dust they could willingly abandon their six month old daughter, need God more than anyone else.   

But when we see examples of great darkness, it is important to remember Christmas is precisely about the reality, our fallen world is dark, but God is with us. God has fixed this, and He goes on fixing this; even as we keep breaking it.  God holds all of us, and His heart breaks for each of us, He holds each of us, as His own beloved, and wills us to see each other as treasured brothers and sisters.

Advent is about waiting in joyful hope, about seeking and anticipating the Christ. The angels call us

to throw open the doors of our hearts, not because we're saps, or fools, or don't know there is risk;

not because we're foolhardy or naive, but because the only way "This" will be fixed, is when we act

as God would will us to act.  What God wills is always at odds with what the world thinks wise.    

So this Advent, begin an offense of hope, an offense of mercy, an offense of charity.  Begin by looking around you to find the hidden suffering in your midst, the suffering God wants you to remedy.  Look for  the unknown family lacking friends, the poor who need shelter, the hungry, the lonely, the sick and the lost,  We have a world wounded and on fire with pain, we are to be the balm, the peace the world cannot give, to a world desperate to receive.  

Pray with faith.  Pray for justice and work for peace.  

And know in the marrow of your bones, God is with us, God is working, God wills to fix this, God is fixing "this."   

Blessed Advent.  

The Beginnings of Something

This morning, I jumped on my emails, perused my writing forum for assignments, tweeted my links to Small Success Thursday and I'm linking to Catholicmom.com here.  Then I read the news and visited my favorite sites.   Asking for a Mission and what that means.  

This past week, a piece ran over at Catholic and Enjoying it, I am Arnold Abbott!, where the mayor and city counsel of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida made it illegal to feed the homeless on the street, illegal for the homeless to sleep in public, and illegal for them to own private property which they keep on public grounds. (The police can seize it on these grounds).   My heart hurt that a city would take this approach --to "help" the homeless.  They went so far as to arrest a 90 year old man and two pastors for feeding those who showed up for the meal.  

I read and researched other articles on the issue, and the spin was that they didn't want to stop feeding people, they wanted to regulate feeding these people.   Yeah.  So charity without a license, not allowed.  I could understand the copious reasons given for wanting this regulated.  It is still wrong to outlaw the impulse to charity. It is still wrong for a society to penalize people helping others.   There can be debates until the next century about how to solve the problem of homelessness with dignity, and there can be legitimate concerns about safety, both of those served and those serving, but it's still an odious society that hamstrings those with the least power, to serve the comfort of the "common good." I can't not fight it.   

Then I heard on NPR from a consultant who argues against any giving of money or food to the homeless except when it is tied to a program.  He claimed a 85% reduction in homelessness in the cities where such an aggressive policy has been enacted. I tried to find a link today, but could not after multiple searches.  What I wanted to know was if the reduction in homelessness was a result of policies getting people into programs and thus not homeless, or because they went elsewhere where the cities were more hospitable to those lacking homes. It's clear that many cities feel so frustrated by homelessness, they view these sorts of measures as a viable answer.  I don't claim to have an answer but I know it isn't to harrass those without homes or those who try to minister to them.

So when the Vatican announced it was building showers to let those who live outside, come in and get clean, I cheered.  This is the beginnings of the answer.  The answer is not a systemic program or government outreach, but one person to one person, outreach to meet the people and thus their needs.

I was feeling great until I saw this response:  How in the world do showers help??? Where are the change of clothes and the free mobile phones? Where are the shelters, etc? The proposition is ludicrous on its face... What is needed is for the PRIVATE sector in Rome and the WHOLE of the USA, to partner with multiple charities to create shelters, jobs, thrift stores where they can work, etc... The Saint Vincent DePaul Society does a GREAT job of this, why don't we help them there???? DUH.

To me, the showers help each person who uses them, to feel clean, refreshed, to have a sense of dignity, and that is the beginning. We are always at the beginning of serving, not the end.  When we die, if we've done this even sort of correctly, we will get the grace to continue the work as intercessors, to pull more people to continue this service to others, so that even more people will receive the gifts of grace squeezed into their heart.  It isn't that we shouldn't help Saint Vincent DePaul Society, but the goal is always to pull more people in. Some don't see the Saint Vincent DePaul Society, but they might see what Pope Francis is doing, and thus be pulled in to the Church, to encounter Christ, either by the help of the showers, or by what the showers represent.

The person asked, "Isn't that self defeating?"  Who is going to take a shower and put on their old stinky clothes? 

I would argue it's not. Because it still is the beginning, and every kindness removes some of the pain, some of the hurt, some of the loneliness.  What's self defeating is to not see them, to not invite them to eat even if they smell, or to think because I cannot solve every problem, I should not start to solve any problem.  Or worse, that the problem should be solved by other people or organizations or the government.   The rich man is condemned to Hell for doing nothing.  For refusing to treat Lazarus as even as he did his dogs.

But again the response: Pointless. Many will say it will be as if you are feeding stray dogs or cats...They will continue to come back over and over and over and the problem will multiply...Why? Because your ilk is not willing to address the fundamental issues of this scourge: Death of the Family, Immoral Business Practices and Immorality!!!

I'm ilk.  It's true.  Today, the county I live in has a deluxe shelter for stray animals.  It is beautiful, spacious and pristine but I do not know where the homeless in our county go when it is cold.  So he's right to charge I should do more, at the very least, learn more.   And once again, I know, "It is the beginning." 

Leaving aside the comparison of human beings to animals, which is itself so very wrong, these people are Christ in his distressing disguise.   Why act?  There are graces that come from performing corporeal acts of mercy, even on those we cannot permanently cure.  Jesus told us the poor would always be with us.   He calls us to love and to serve, not to create utopia.

However, here's the rub.  If all of us heard the call Pope Francis is issuing, to be neither cold or lazy in our care of the poor, how much closer all of us would come to beginning to build up the Kingdom of Heaven while here on Earth. 

 



"When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed."

- Blessed Mother Teresa

None of us come close to Blessed Mother Teresa.  We can see the people on the corners of streets, some of them for years.  I agree, things cannot continue on as things are much longer.  If we are to be a people of hope, we need to hear and harken and harden not our hearts, toward anyone, roll up our sleeves and figure out how to get out there.  I'm going to find out where they go when the weather turns for starters.  We're called to catechize by being catalysts.  We're all the beginnings of something if we say "Yes."

How?  Ask.  Ask what beattitude God wants you to live out in faith.  Then seize it and live it.  You'll know, and then it will simply require of you, that you give back to God, the one thing you can give to God, The Grace of Yes.  

The Payoff

Every once in a while, I pause to wonder, is any of this stuff sinking in?  This sort of question especially vexes after a mass experience where I spend much of the homily "shusshing" the child who wants to give me the roving reporter's eye witness account of what appears to be a scuffle between two children about whether to kneel or sit, followed by an extensive discussion by said reporter with me for not receiving her bulletin with due diligence.   

It pops up when after hearing about who raised their hands at mass and what they said, there is a fight over who gets to sit next to the baby on the ride home and a near rebellion when the request for a snack at the drive-thru is denied or when I've washed the hair, used conditioner, even washed the Barbie's hair, brushed, dried, blown dried, read stories and brushed teeth and get, "I hate going to bed. I'm Never Going to Bed. If you Loved Me You'ld NEVER send me to bed." as a response.  

When every day you still have to remind people to put on their socks and shoes, no toys at the table and to brush their teeth, make their beds, do their homework, turn off the TV...blah blah blah.  Is anyone listening? Even I'm bored by my constant endless loop.  

Then you get the payoff.  

The other day, my daughter explained that the tired old canard about Jesus not multiplying the loaves and the fishes because everyone just happened to pack along a picnic lunch that they could share with everyone had come up.   "So you're telling me, you believe Jesus rose from the dead but couldn't multiply the loaves and fishes to feed the 5000?" she asked.  Her friends agreed.  

That whoop you just heard in you head, it was me.   

A Little Early Christmas

My daughter is 7.  Her brain runs down rabbit holes of thought so quickly, keeping her the age she is remains a constant challenge. 

This morning upon finding a dollar under her pillow, she starts. "Mom, Did God create fairies?"  Before I can answer and believe me, I'm stalling, hoping for inspiration, my other daughter (5) responds.  "Of course God made the fairies. Some of them have wings and some of them don't."she answers authoritatively.  She is satisfied with her sister's explanation.  

"Is there such a thing as Pixie dust?" she asks.
"That's an invention of Disney." I smile.

"Yeah, I thought so."  She packs her dollar in her purse, along with three quarters so she can buy  donuts. 

At mass, she turns to me during a song, "Is Rudolph real? Is Santa real? Some kids in my class say he isn't." She's in first grade. I'm not ready to burst any child's imagination, nor do I want this conversation in mass.  I don't want her joy removed for the sake of truth she cannot yet digest.   So I whisper, "Christmas is real. Jesus is real. He was born in the stable to Mary, with the angels singing, and the three kings bringing gifts.  All of that is real. Saint Nicholas is real. He was a generous man and a saint who brought people to know Christ, who made Christmas something that we celebrate with gifts and joy and wonderfulness every year." and give her a hug. She nods her head.

"But deer don't fly." she says. "And they don't have red noses."
"That's the song and a cartoon." I answer. "Regular deer have regular noses."
"That makes sense." she agrees. 

She is satisfied, but I know the question will pop up again.  So I fret.  Will the sparkle in her eyes be snuffed prematurely by those around her?  While I've never fed them the myth of Santa Claus, it has become known, if only through the Night Before Christmas and all the stories and films that inundate the season. 

The readings for today are not the Widow giving of her need, even though those are scheduled. We are celebrating the feast of our patron Saint, Saint Martin.  She hears the story of the soldier giving half of his cloak to the beggar and the dream of Christ saying, "Look what Martin has given me."  as he holds the half given to the poor freezing man. 

When it is time for the collection, she reaches into her purse.  I'm shocked to see the newly acquired dollar being placed in the basket with nary a moment of thought.  She has a generous heart.  She has a generous spirit.  I think back to every food drive and how she wants to bring ten cans each day.  She holds the true spirit of the season yet to come in her heart.  The widow's mite is in her heart too. 

"Can we have donuts after mass?" she asks when she realizes she's given away what she planned to spend.

"Sure."
"Will there always be donuts after mass?" she asks.

"There will always be something good on Sunday." I answer. 
Taking my dollar and running to stand in line, she says, "I hope it always has frosting and sprinkles."

Me too. 

Bilocation, Double Vision and Focus

When my daughter went to the ER last week, I admit the biggies were right there in front of me.  Staring down the maw of possibilities like Brain Tumors, Cancer, Stroke, it was the longest hour of my life waiting for them to get a cat scan done and read.   The Agony of the Garden struck home as I sat there with my daughter sleeping, waiting for news, not wanting certain news and feeling alone.  The wolves of the past few hours of scrambling were circling....see....see...you are alone.  Your husband is in New York.  No one can get to you easily and this is hard in part because you have so many.   I could feel the yips and nips...as if everything we'd done to parent them had somehow failed in this hour, and that I was being indited.   It was an unpleasant whisper from a liar who thrills at despair.   We were here because she had double vision and I wished for the gift of bilocation so I could be both home and at the hospital.  Everywhere I felt inadequate.  Everywhere, I felt divided from everything. 


When they mentioned they would need to take some spinal fluid, my heart ached.  Having held one child for a spinal tap and refused to do it for another, I gritted my teeth for what I anticipated I would have to do when they ushered me out.  The doctors had pulled the curtain to do a lumbar puncture. The nurse walked me back out to the waiting area with the permanent Disney TV and the aquarium of fish.  Despite not wanting to actually hold her through the procedure, I didn't want to be away.  I lasted three minutes tops.  Maybe I wouldn't be holding her when they did this but I'd be damned if I was just going to hang and sip diet coke. 

I found my way back to the pediatric ER and parked myself outside her room.  She didn't know I was there but I knew.   And I heard my daughter's voice.  She was singing, church songs.   Then she started describing each of her brothers and sisters in detail and it was a reassurance to me, this long list of people was meaningful to HER  as a way of coping with the unknown and frightening.   "Rita is really smart.  She plays rock band and colors with me and we play barbie."...."Paul is cute.  He likes to pull everything down from the book shelves and that's a pain but he loves music and will play with cars and blocks and drums for hours."   "Will is brave..." she rattled off echoes of my own heart's knowledge of each of them.  Here she was enduring pain and yet bringing comfort, it was the essence of this child; the first to go get band-ades, the first to give a comforting hug, unknowingly giving her own mother courage.

When I finally got to go back in the room, she looked at me, "There are still two of you." she said.  I smiled.  "And we both love you."

We still don't know why she sees double, but the opthamologist gave her a patch for school to wear over one eye --switch from time to time, and it helps her to focus and get her homework done in 1/3 the time it normally takes.  We will be going to a specialist tomorrow to address this from a clinical perspective, but at least some of the puzzle that is my daughter has been revealed by this journey.  She always seems a bit lost in space and time, if she's seeing double, this is in fact a reality for her.  She is always bouncing, touching, tapping, talking and I realized, she is orienting herself to the world, to the real physical world through sound and touch.   With the patch, she is stiller, quieter, but still the sparkly sweet self we love...so hopefully tomorrow, we will have a name for this, but in the meantime, we have a strategy.  

Finally, walking up to Communion Sunday, I couldn't escape the wonderful words a friend forwarded to me after all this craziness started: FAITH is Daring the Soul to go Beyond what the eyes can see.  

And I could feel that I was being asked to walk down a path with her I did not know and to trust; and that this was the case with Paul and his Down Syndrome, and with my oldest and his search for a college, and with my daughter who just started high school, and with my father and his Alzheimer's, and with so many situations that it felt overwhelming and yet the path seemed luminous; obvious and reassuring. Walk up to receive.

There are More Things Horatio

My eldest son is in high school.

There is a band of four atheists (alright, self proclaimed non believers who probably just found out about existentialism by reading something in Wikipedia and decided it would be cool), that tries to give him a hard time.

They know he went to the March for Life. They know he comes from a big family. They know the faith means something to him. So they gather to heckle him at regular daily intervals.

The other day, as my son walked by, they jeered, "God is dead."

"No," my son responded, "That happens Friday."

Please excuse me while I pump my fist and whoop a bit.

As a side note, only three showed up to try and talk to him the next day.