Blogging – Catholic Writers Guild

Maria Riley shares tips for combating writer’s block.

May 11, 2023/0 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Inspirational/by Maria Riley

As a Catholic writer, I am blessed and challenged by the knowledge that what I am writing is not really my own words. My goal every time I sit down at the keyboard is to write the words God wants from me. For this reason, I have learned that I don’t suffer from a traditional writer’s block, but rather a spiritual block when the words don’t come.

I’ve often joked that I wish God would send me an email outlining exactly what he wants me to do. I am not known for my patience. When I feel lost without inspiration, I want a quick fix and immediate answer to what I should be writing that day. The reality is that God doesn’t work on our timeline. His inspiration isn’t a tap we can turn on and off when we are ready for it.

The tricks for overcoming a spiritual block are simple in theory, but the practice can be challenging. The more we talk to God through reading scripture, spending quiet time in prayer, and pursuing faith-based activities and friendships, the more we will hear God communicating with us throughout the day. The more we hear directly from God, the easier it is to sit and write with confidence and ease.

Unfortunately, our daily lives are inundated with noise and distractions that prevent us from hearing the quiet words God is trying to speak into our hearts. It has been my experience that God rarely yells. He is always reaching out and seeking us, yet he waits patiently for us to respond to him.

Finding time to sit quietly seems counterintuitive when a deadline is looming, yet it may be the only way to fully open the channel to God. Nathaniel Hawthorn penned one of my favorite quotes: “Happiness is like a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”

I have found this to be true for writing inspiration. So long as I am using my own strength and resources to actively pursue the right subject matter, I will always fail. If I can force myself to sit down, be still, and listen, that is when the creative juices flow freely.

Another method for combatting Catholic writer’s block is to not wait until you are at the computer to gather your inspiration. I keep a running note on my phone in which I can jot notes whenever I feel divine inspiration. I frequently get ideas while listening to a sermon, chatting in a conversation, or while hearing God’s word on a podcast. Since I practically always have my phone with me, the notes app is a perfect go-to place to gather these ideas.

By prioritizing quiet, contemplative prayer time, I feel close to God, even though I don’t always pray with the consistency that I’d like. Like everyone, my hectic schedule and constant disruptions get the best of me. Throughout my day I try to offer up my work and sufferings as prayer, and I pray for others when they pop into my mind. I struggle, though, to find significant blocks of time to sit silently and listen to God.

Every night before I fall asleep, I speak to God. I discovered that consistently I felt inspired and motivated each night. I realized that this was my contemplative prayer time. The house is quiet, everyone else is asleep, and I turn my thoughts to God. I first give thanks for my blessings, then ask for forgiveness for my shortcomings, and then I let my mind wander with the help of the Holy Spirit. Now I recognize that some of my best ideas are developed in those quiet moments.

When all else fails to combat your writer’s block, I recommend writing what you know. For me, I know writer’s block today. As I write, I pray that I can inspire another writer to continue on a mission from God to share his word with the world in that writer’s own unique way.

Maria Riley 2023

Learning to Just Be

July 26, 2022/0 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Encouragement for Writers, Family Life, Inspirational/by Sarah Anne Carter

Our lives are often rushed. This summer’s calendar has been packed fuller than any before—trying to get household things done while running children here, there, and everywhere has me feeling rushed and a bit frantic some days. (Leave it to high gas prices to teach me a lesson about slowing down.)

Our daughter has dance class 30 minutes away and, for the past few weeks, to save on gas, we’ve been taking turns staying down near her class instead of driving back home and back again. At least 12 hours of driving has been saved, but that meant we had to find something to do for the two and a half hours while she was in class. My husband and I took turns “experiencing” the nights away from home.

On my first trip, I visited the downtown library that I had never been to yet. It had an underground free parking garage where I could eat my dinner in my car. I took my laptop into the library, but I spent the first 10 minutes wandering around the three floors to see the different areas the library had to offer. There were so many tables near the windows that faced either downtown or a small park. I found one and wrote for almost an hour. I still had time to kill, so then I read the local paper. While I hadn’t brought my water into the library, I noticed food and drinks were not taboo there.

My husband found a metro park where he could sit and eat his dinner and read while watching the fountains and the people. He encountered families, runners, hip hop dancers, and other people just taking breaks from work. During this time, he started reading a book I had already started and ending up finishing it before me because he had so much reading time. It’s the first time that’s ever happened since I’m the faster reader!

One night, I ate at the metro park, but since it was hot, I went into the local coffee shop to spend some time writing. For an hour, I got to write while listening to some great music from the ‘90s. The barista even offered me water to go as I was leaving and was impressed that I was an author. I definitely will go back there.

Another night, I went to Panera right down the street and wrote and wrote and wrote. Then, one night, I was tired and didn’t feel like pulling out the laptop, so I went to a bookstore and browsed.

My husband spent one night reading some, but also listening to the live music they had downtown. Turns out there’s a free concert every Thursday night in the summer.

Through all the nights I spent downtown, I found myself forced to slow down, to find a place and just stay there for a bit. I spent most of my nights away writing. I focused on just doing or enjoying whatever was in front of me. A quiet dinner outside let me focus on the tasty BBQ beef sandwich. A library let me focus on the plot of my novel. You should see how focused I am at a bookstore.

Those nights helped remind me to be where I am, and I started to apply it more at home. I often move from task to task, or even multitask a lot. But I don’t have to rush from one thing to another. I can enjoy making dinner. I can spend time looking at my daylilies. I can sit and listen to a child’s joke. I can just be.

Tending The Garden of Your Heart

May 20, 2022/0 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Family Life, Holidays, Inspirational/by Kimberly Novak

Kimberly Novak shares heartfelt lessons she learned through the blooming of a Christmas Cactus.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt within the heart.” Helen Keller

Many instances in our lives make a good argument for Helen Keller’s quote. Take, for example, a baby’s first smile and the soft touch of their little hand in yours. If we go deeper into those connections, we will find that the most intimate emotions are within the heart. In an unexpected example, I considered the many ways we can tend to the garden of our heart and produce a thriving relationship with God.

My mom texted me recently, celebrating that her Christmas Cactus had bloomed. After more than a year with no emerging flowers. Taking notice that the plant was not thriving in its environment, Mom moved it to a different room. “It is happy,” she shared. I wondered why a Christmas plant would be blooming now in May. The weather is warmer though not quite yet spring-like. Also, this is a “Christmas Plant,” and we are in Easter Season. Intrigued, I powered up the laptop and searched all there was to know about the Christmas Cactus.

There’s no shortage of information about this unique plant; for example, it is known for endurance and loyalty. Also, I read a Christmas Cactus Legend which goes deeper into what the plant represents. After all of this research, I still couldn’t find out why an adjustment in its environment made the plant happy.

The event and the beautiful change the cactus experienced gave me pause to look at how this relates to a nurturing relationship with God. Plants need specific growing environments, soil consistencies, and various levels of sunlight to achieve their full potential. As children of God, we can relate. There are multiple ways to measure the growing conditions of our spiritual life, all leading to happiness of the heart.

Temperature plays a significant role in our walk with God. When we are consistent in prayer and our spiritual practices, our longing for God runs hot! Spirituality thrives in this environment. The rising passion for God then needs to be watered frequently. It is important not to get to a point where we are dry or overwatered in prayer life. One can never pray too much; however, it is possible to pray without a feeling of genuine love for God in our hearts. Praying with sincerity from the heart will safeguard your level of spiritual hydration.

Life throws a lot our way, and there will come a day when you don’t feel like spending time with God. Much like a plant with halted growth, this is considered dormancy. A great way to combat this is through spiritual stillness. Prayer, without conscious words, yet in the presence of God. Eucharistic adoration is a beautiful place for worship of this nature and is an excellent preparatory phase for the next step on this journey, making conditions ripe for growth.

Recognizing your prayerful habits and patterns will keep your prayer life lush and abundant. Also, journaling is a great way to chart changes and emotions during your prayerful encounters. Find a way to highlight or mark days of consolation and go back to them when something has you down. These moments will act as nourishment for your spirit.

Now, it is time for the light to shine! With plants, indirect or direct sunlight plays a prominent role in the plant’s growth, texture, and lifespan. It is not much different in our relationship with God when considering God’s light and love as our source. Living in a way that glorifies our Lord allows His light to shine outwardly from us and onto others. It is in God’s light and love where the happiness in our hearts takes hold. Loving God and feeding on His love is a true expression of Helen Keller’s quote. When we nurture our spirituality before, during, and after blooming, it results in feeling the best and most beautiful things God is offering.

Spring is here, and soon, all will be shopping for the prettiest flowers, blooming plants, and preparing the soil for planting. I might suggest that in this time, we also consider where we can allow for spiritual growth and how God is calling us to plant the seeds He has given us to share.

Our Lady Showered the People with Abundance

May 3, 2022/1 Comment/in Blogging, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

“I have heard their prayers. Assure them that as of this day, their suffering has come to an end.”

There is a town located in Italy called Cursi. It is in the Apulia region of southeast Italy, and if you look at the map of the country, it is located on the heel of the boot. It is about as far southeast one can go before coming to the Adriatic Sea. In the seventeenth century, the Blessed Virgin came to this town and, reaching out with love and tenderness, saved all the people.

It had been three years since a drop of rain had fallen in the region. It was now 1641, and the summer heat was turned up full. The drought had led to famine, and the famine led to a lack of work. Sickness had erupted and began to spread among the people. Things had become genuinely desperate, and even water to drink was getting scarce. The people had been praying every day to the Blessed Mother for help, but no relief appeared.

In April of 1641, (the actual date is unknown) the son of a cattle farmer, Biagio Natali, was out herding some stray cattle back to the farm. Near the pasture was a chapel that had been dedicated to Our Lady. Next to the chapel, near the edge of the road, was a barn. Inside the barn, on one of the walls, was a fresco someone had painted (artist unknown) of the Madonna and Child.

As Biagio passed by the barn, he noticed a strange light coming from inside. He stopped and looked, and the light seemed to get brighter and brighter. Suddenly, the figure of the Mother and Child came from inside the light. Biagio fell to his knees and a beautiful voice said, “Don’t be afraid. I am the Queen of Heaven. Return to your village and try to placate your neighbors. I have heard their prayers. Assure them that as of this day, their suffering has come to an end. As a sign of my protection, you will have an abundant harvest.”

Realizing that the Madonna and Child were no longer there, Biagio got up and ran to Don Giovanni Domenico Coccioli, the parish priest. Don Giovanni was overjoyed to hear this message. He told Biagio that he had received a similar dream. The priest was so excited to hear Biagio’s story that he immediately ran out to announce the news to the people of the city. He organized them into a procession and all the townsfolk began marching while praying and singing in honor of Our Lady and Child. What an incredible faith the people had; nothing had yet to happen.

As the people processed toward the sight of the apparition, the clear, blue sky began to cloud over. The clouds grew darker, and the rains came down. The rain poured down for three days and nights with the fields soaking up every drop of the precious water. Since it was only April, the harvest that year was abundant. The famine ended, and the local granaries and cellars were filled with wheat and fruit.

The people of Cursi wanted to find a way to show their sincere gratitude to the Blessed Mother. They decided to enclose the small chapel and barn within a large church that would surround it. The fresco would be saved within the new church and hopefully become a place of pilgrimage. The church was finished in 1650 and, as hoped for, immediately became a popular place to visit. It was called the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Abundance. Biagio left his work as a farmer, donned the clothes of a hermit, and vowed to spend the rest of his life in prayer and fasting while looking after the shrine.

Some years after the new church was built, it was hit by lightning and burned down. A bigger and more beautiful church was built with a magnificent sanctuary. In the sanctuary, above the high altar, is a Greco-Byzantine fresco of the Madonna of Abundance (sometimes called the Madonna of Prosperity). In it, the Blessed Virgin holds the Divine Infant and in their hands, they are holding sprigs of olives and ears of corn.

The Shrine is not only known for the “abundance” of rain but it is also a place for nursing mothers who lack the necessary milk to nurse their babies. Those who invoke her intercession are said to often develop an abundance of milk.

The shrine in Cursi is opened daily and Mass is offered at 5:00 p.m. in the winter and at 6:00 p.m. in the summer, with the Rosary preceding Mass.

Could the apparitions of Our Lady of Cuapa be a replay of Fatima?

October 6, 2020/0 Comments/in Blogging, Faith, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

By Larry Peterson

Bernardo Martinez was experiencing a sense of despair about his life. He lived in Cuapa, Nicaragua, and was quite poor. Bernardo was a sickly young man and could not find work. He lived in a small room in the back of the church, where he did his best to maintain the grounds and a small chapel. He also acted as a sacristan.

On two separate nights in April of 1980, Bernardo had discovered the lights turned on. He blamed some of the women for leaving them on, but they denied that they had. Again, on April 15, 1980, Bernardo had noticed the glow of light coming from the sacristy. Annoyed and mumbling under his breath, he hurried to the chapel to turn the lights off. But the lights were not on. The glow was from something else.

As Bernardo entered the chapel, he noticed the glow had focused itself around the statue of the Blessed Virgin. As he slowly approached the strange light, he realized that the sculpture was illuminated. Excited at seeing such a sight, Bernardo hurried to tell some of his friends. He asked them to please not tell anyone. But they did tell others. The result was that most of the townsfolk began to ridicule and make fun of Bernardo. Even the priest did not believe him.

On May 8, 1980, Bernardo had a chance to go fishing. After about two hours, he left to go home. While walking back, he saw two lightning flashes. After the second flash, he saw a woman standing where the flash had occurred. Bernardo was naturally frightened and, after doing his best to compose himself, walked over and asked the Lady who she was. She replied that she was the Mother of Jesus.

Bernardo fell to his knees and stared at her. Then he asked her what she wanted? She told him that she desired the Rosary to be prayed every day. Bernardo told her he was going to meet the people to pray the Rosary in the chapel.

Our Lady knew that they were praying the Rosary because it was the month of May, but she told him again that she wanted it said every day of the year. Bernardo said she told him, “The Lord does not like prayers we make in a rush or mechanically.” She continued, “You should pray the Rosary and also read Bible passages so you can put into practice the Word of God.”

The Blessed Virgin appeared to Bernardo five more times, and another time an angel appeared. Bernardo, afraid of being ridiculed, kept these visions to himself. He even began to avoid the area where the visions had occurred. But he could not stay silent for long. On May 16, 1980, only a few days after the last vision, Bernardo once again saw two flashes of lightning. Then Mary appeared before him. He wept and told her he was sorry for being so frightened. She smiled at him and told him he could tell the people.

Bernardo went to the priest and told him what had happened. He told him to gather the townsfolk together and he did. With the priest by his side, Bernardo told everyone about the visions. Some of the people believed Bernardo but most were still skeptical. The priest told Bernardo that if he had any more experiences to tell no one but him.

During the evening of June 8, 1980, Our Lady again appeared to Bernardo. He said the visions he saw were like watching separate movies in the sky. The first was of the first Christians all dressed in white marching to heaven. The second was the Dominicans all carrying large, luminous Rosaries. One of them brought a large book, and they all meditated on the words. Then everyone said one Our Father and ten Hail Marys.

There were apparitions on July 8, 1980; September 8 (Our Lady’s birthday), 1980: and on October 13 (the last vision of Fatima), 1980. During the final apparition, the Blessed Virgin said, “Nicaragua has suffered a great deal since the earthquake, and will continue to suffer if all of you don’t change. If you don’t change, you will hasten the coming of the Third World War.”

In 1995, Bernardo Martinez, at the age of 65, was ordained a priest in the Cathedral of Leon in Nicaragua. He died in 2000. In 1982, the Bishop of Managua authorized the investigation into the apparitions. In 1994, Bishop Robelo stated that the apparitions were “worthy of belief.”

When it Comes to Life and Death, the Paradox that is Humanity is Inexplicable

February 5, 2019/2 Comments/in Blogging, Faith/by Larry Peterson

On January 22, 2019, New York’s governor, Andrew Cuomo, signed into law the Reproductive Health Act. This was also the anniversary of Roe v.Wade.

When the governor finished signing this bill, a suffocating wind exploded from the halls of the capitol, caused by the cheers and screams of those upstanding lawmakers who had voted to legalize infanticide. Indeed, the wind has moved like a tsunami across our land, leaving behind a foul and repugnant odor.

There is an inexplicable paradox that engulfs humanity. I believe there is a far greater number of women and men who are willing to lay down their very lives for their child, even if it is still unborn, than those people who rejoice in the death and destruction of the most innocent and helpless of all God’s creations. I have no answers for this human phenomena.

The signing of this bill and the cheering that followed brought me back to a day 40 years earlier: September 6, 1978. For my young family, that was also a day about the life and death of a baby. Mostly, it is about how one woman would go to any lengths to save her unborn child.

Loretta had entered her sixth month of pregnancy, and in the days preceding September 6, there had been little movement from the baby. On September 5, the doctor had appeared concerned but had only said that the heartbeat “could be a bit stronger.” He wanted her to return in a week.

The rest of that day there was no movement. We had gone to bed and fallen asleep. I was on my right side, and Loretta was lying against my back. Suddenly something jabbed me in the back. It was hard enough to wake me. I sat up and said, “The baby just kicked me.”

She said softly, “Yes, I know.”

It was 2 a.m., and all was dark and peaceful, but we did not fall back asleep. We just lay quietly, side by side, holding hands and waiting. A second kick never came.

The next morning, after I had gone to work, Loretta began to hemorrhage. Her mom had been staying with us for a few days — and thank God she was there. She called 911 and then called and left a message for me at work. My first stop was only ten minutes from the hospital, and I arrived there before the ambulance.

When they pulled the gurney out, I was stunned at what I saw. My wife had lost so much blood that her hair was smeared with it. Her eyes were closed and she was not moving. I stood by helplessly as they rushed her into the ER.

For those who reject and scoff at the wonder of God’s human creations, here is an example of how one woman did not. As I was standing there not knowing what to do or where to go, a priest came in and asked me if I was Larry Peterson. I just nodded, and he told me that my mother-in-law had called his parish. As Loretta was being wheeled out of the house, she made her mother promise to have a priest waiting to baptize her child. Her mom kept that promise.

There was a hospital ten minutes from our house. I was told that the paramedics wanted to go there but that Loretta demanded they take her to the Catholic hospital a half-hour away. They told her it was way too risky because of the amount of blood she was losing. She would not relent, and they did as she asked. She was determined to have her child baptized. She had knowingly and willingly put her life on the line for her baby.

Loretta survived and the baby did not. She was baptized. A few days later, the remains of Theresa Mary Peterson left the funeral home in a tiny white casket. The casket was placed on the front seat of a limousine. We followed it to Gate of Heaven Cemetery in Valhalla, N.Y. She was buried with my parents, and her name is on the tombstone. She did exist and will always be remembered.

As the great Pope, St. John Paul II said, “A nation that kills its own children is a nation without hope.”

Lest evil prevails, we must pray like never before that our nation overcomes this onslaught against the very image of God Himself.

When You Think You Think You Have Nothing to Give, Bring Your Drum…

December 11, 2017/0 Comments/in Advent, Blogging, Catholic Theme, Faith, Holidays, Inspirational, Love/by Paula Veloso Babadi

At least that is what a young boy did thousands of years ago when he wanted to honor a new king. You probably can hear the drum beating as he asks “Shall I play for you? On my drum?” You know the rest. tribal-1215118_1920

Most of my life, I’ve felt I had nothing worthy to put at the feet of the King of the Universe. Instead, I often ran away from him. But in his wisdom and love, he carried me to the point where I am today.

It was in my parish family during a small group retreat by Father Michael Gaitley, the study on “Consoling the Heart of Jesus” gave me a whole new insight into the love and longing Jesus has for us. Early in the book, Father Gaitley shares a simple message he perceived from Jesus:

“All I want is for you to be my friend. All I want is for you not to be afraid of me and to come to me.” (Page 71)

Loving and Consoling Jesus through His Living Body the Church

I found great joy in meeting with like-minded souls to talk about our growing love for Jesus and the resulting desire to put faith into action. It was nothing short of miraculous. God bears his light to us, first through his son and then through others.

They come heeding the call of the Holy Spirit to be in the right place at the right time. We all know people who are beacons – radiating goodness, kindness, love and action. Sometimes, we are the steadying signal, but I never forget who is at the origin.

Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe; Hebrews 12:28

Jesus is the burning heart, the center of this wonderful body of Christ and in loving others, we love him. In consoling others, we console him. We truly are branches nourished by his living vine.

Bringing Our Drums

heart-2862156_1920 So we come back to the little shepherd boy. I hear his drums, “pa rum pa pum pum” a physical declaration of his heart beating with love for the king, a testimony to all that is required of us–offering our own hearts without reserve.

I once thought I had nothing to give, but I was wrong. Jesus smiled at the drummer boy and his gift while Mary nodded and the ox and lamb kept time. I am certain he smiles at each of us too; we just need to bring him our drum.

What Christmas songs stir your heart? Bring loving memories to mind? Feel free to share in the comments section.

The Gift of Red

November 7, 2017/4 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Family Life, Holidays, Inspirational, non-fiction, Poetry/by Paula Veloso Babadi

2008-11-16 021 Advent and Christmas were always bright and happy times in my childhood home. While focus was on preparing for the coming of Christ, mixed in with that anticipation was the fun of decorating. Red was everywhere and in every room. My mother made sure our home reflected the joy heralded by the angels of peace on earth and goodwill to all men, with the manger scene a focal point. We had red plaid table cloths in the dining room and playful elves hanging from every conceivable perch. I came to love the significance of all these bright red and green decorating traditions.

Several years ago, a cardinal perched outside my window one morning. He was a magnificent contrast against the small oak tree in my backyard, and reminded me of my father who faithfully put out black sunflower seeds (the best kind) for the cardinals gracing our home. My mother has kept a stained-glass cardinal on her bedroom window along with a myriad of colored-glass crucifixes, chalices, and other professions of her enduring faith. She believes that my dad, long gone, signals to her when the cardinals come and visit.

So, my mind wandered the trail of how much the color red permeates our world and how God created so many variations for our delight. Do you know how many names there are for this color called red? I didn’t, and so I looked it up and daydreamed about the marvelous range of reds in existence. But it was the deep scarlet of the cardinal that led me on a path to remember our Savior, not at His birth but at His redemptive sacrifice – and through my father – His teachings from the Sermon on the Mount. At the end of the trail, one thing was crystal clear to me, one realization that I needed at the time; Jesus loves me , all of us, beyond our imagining, beyond all else in this created world. I marvel at God’s wisdom in creating a small bird with such power to move the human heart, to lift our spirits toward heaven, and to give me memories of my devout parents.

The following poem was born from the gift of red given to me through inspiring parents. What memories bring warmth and comfort to you? Feel free to share special holiday memories or traditions.

Cardinal Red

More than poinsettias and red curly-ribboned Christmas gifts,
more than glossy lacquered lines of red candy apples in the window,
more than clumsy Crayola-red shapes on a toddler’s first piece of art,
more than sumptuous strawberry-red berries begging to be tasted,
more than the competent clarity of fire engine reds racing to rescue,
the deep scarlet cardinal captures me
in the fleeting seconds of his landing,
in the sound of his song,
in the almost imperceptible rising and falling of his splendid chest.
He breathes life and bleeds red,
as red as the drops of blood 2008-11-16 022
falling from our Savior’s wounds
and causes me to remember my father
quoting Matthew 6:26 from his red Douay-Rheims
“ Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow,
nor do they reap, nor gather into barns;
and your heavenly Father feedeth them.
Are not you of much more value than they?”
In this cardinal red moment,
the two hundred and eighty four other shades
referenced in books
cannot compare.

“Little Nellie of Holy God”–The Toddler Who Inspired a Pope*

July 4, 2017/3 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

Ellen Organ was born on August 24, 1903 in what was known as the “married quarters” of the Royal Infantry Barracks in Waterford, Ireland. Her dad, William, was a soldier in the British army. Shortly after Ellen’s birth she was baptized into the faith at the Church of the Trinity. No one knows why, but from that point on Ellen Organ was called “Nellie.”

By William Organ – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, Link

By the age of two, Nellie displayed a pronounced spirituality rarely seen in a child, especially one so young. While walking to Mass holding her dad’s hand she would constantly talk about seeing “Holy God.” This was something she began saying without having heard such an expression. Even her dad admitted years later he had no idea why his daughter began saying “Holy God.” Nellie’s parents were both devout Catholics and her mom, Mary, had an especially deep devotion to the Blessed Mother. She would take walks with Nellie, always talking about Jesus and Mary. She and her husband also made it a family custom to pray the family Rosary every day. Nellie, doing as her mom showed her, always kissed the Crucifix and the large beads between decades. The first words she learned were “Jesus” and “Mary.”

Nellie’s life and the lives of her brothers, Thomas, David and their sister, Mary, were about to change dramatically. Their mom became very ill with tuberculosis. Nellie, the youngest of her siblings, was by her side constantly and was actually hugging her mom when she died in January of 1907. Nellie was three years old.

The children’s dad could not provide proper care for them. Consequently, he turned to his parish priest for help. Thomas, who was the oldest at age nine, was sent to the Christian Brothers and David to the Sisters of Mercy. Mary and Nellie were taken in by the Good Shepherd Sisters in Cork City. They arrived there on May 11, 1907. The sisters treated them kindly and were very good to the girls. Nellie was happy to call all of the sisters, “Mothers.”

Nellie was three years and nine months old when she arrived at the Good Shepherd Sisters home. A young girl named Mary Long slept next to Nellie. Nellie never complained but Mary heard her crying and coughing during he night. She told the sisters and Nellie was moved to the school infirmary.

Upon examination it was discovered that Nellie had a crooked spine (the result of a serious fall) that required special care. Sitting up was very painful for the child and sitting still for any length of time caused her great pain. Her hip and her back were out of joint. She was only three and she tried to hide her pain. But she could not “fake” feeling well. All the sisters could do was make the child as comfortable as possible.

Nellie astonished the nuns with her insight and knowledge of the Catholic faith. The sisters and others that cared for Nellie Organ believed without reservation that the child was spiritually gifted. Nellie loved to visit the chapel which she called “the House of Holy God.” She referred to the tabernacle as “Holy God’s lockdown.” And she embraced the Stations of the Cross. Upon being carried to each station she would burst into tears seeing how Holy God suffered for us. She also developed an acute perception of the Blessed Sacrament.

One day Nellie was given a box of beads and some string. Being a three-year-old she put some in her mouth and inadvertently swallowed them. People saw her gagging and choking and rushed her into the infirmary. The doctor present was able to remove the beads from Nellie’s throat.

They were all amazed how brave the little girl remained as the doctor probed into her throat, removing the objects. She never made a sound. At this time it was discovered that, just like her mom, she had advanced tuberculosis. The doctor told the sisters there was no hope for recovery and gave Nellie only a few months to live.

Nellie loved the Holy Eucharist deeply. She would ask the sisters to kiss her when they were coming back from Communion so she could share their Holy Communion. She desperately wanted to receive her First Communion. But the rule of the Church was a minimum age of 12. Nellie was only three.

Nellie told of visions she was having of “Holy God” as a child and the Blessed Mother standing nearby. Her faith was so pronounced that the Bishop agreed (since she was close to death) to confirm her. She received her Confirmation on October 8, 1907. Then, on December 6, 1907, after considering all the facts, the local bishop, in consult with the priests, allowed Nellie Organ to receive her First Holy Communion. Nellie Organ died on February 2, 1908.

Nellie Organ’s story spread throughout Europe and reached the Vatican. It was presented to Pope Pius X by his Secretary of State, Cardinal Merry del Val. It was providential because the Holy Father had been looking for a reason to lower the age of receiving First Communion to the age of seven but was not sure about doing it.

When Pius X read the documents about “Little Nellie of Holy God,” he immediately took this as a sign to lower the age. The Pope immediately issued a Papal Decree called Quam Singulari, changing the age of receiving First Holy Communion from 12 years old to age seven.

Pope Pius X, who would become St. Pius X, after issuing Quam Singulari, took up his pen and wrote, “May God enrich with every blessing — all those who recommend frequent Communion to little boys and girls, proposing Nellie as their model. –Pope Pius X. June 4th, 1912.”

*edited version published in Aleteia on March 3, 2017

This Year, Experiencing Death and Resurrection during Holy Week became a Personal Reality

May 2, 2017/2 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Theme/by Larry Peterson

Author’s note: The following was written during Holy Week. It has to do with my wife’s death, funeral and the fresh grief that followed. I thought I should share it here.

Marty’s funeral was April 6th. Everything was perfect; the Mass, the music, the people, the cemetery and the traditional “fellowship” that followed. I arrived back home about 3:30 pm and headed to the dining room table. I looked around and the reality of the moment sent a shiver though my body. I realized I was alone . . . very alone. I began to cry (yes, men do cry).

So I sat down and sobbed and fought hard to stop. I blew my nose, took few deep breaths and unconsciously stared at the paperback book in front of me. It was an old book of quotes. I have no memory of placing it there but I must have. Just like that it was in my hand. (In retrospect I believe someone unseen guided my hand to it).

I flipped it open and read the first quote staring at me. It was from Edgar Allan Poe about his wife: “Deep in the earth my love is lying and I must weep alone.” I read it again and thought how pathetic that was. The quote from the great writer embraced nothingness. It was so sad. It also jump started my brain. My crying turned into deep breaths and then my thoughts jumped to Holy Week and Resurrection. I was supposed to be rejoicing. Whatever was my problem?

Well, like everyone else, I am human. The death of a spouse leaves a deep hole inside you. When you get back home after everything is over you see her everywhere. That’s the way it is. You are wounded and bleeding. (I know–I lost my first wife 14 years ago to cancer.) Slowly, over time, the wound closes. Inevitably it leaves an unseen ugly scar which you learn to live with.

Once again I mentally dashed to my citadel, aka my Catholic faith. It was that pitiful quote from Poe that made me realize I had been witness to a great journey. I had stood by as my wife received all she needed from her Catholic faith to advance from this earthly life to the next. I even posted on Facebook how she had received her “Jesus hug” when she arrived.

There is a grief process we all go through when struck by the death of a loved one. But our magnificent and comforting faith can become our “fortress of solitude.” It eases the pain; it can dull the ache in your stomach; it can help you fall asleep. (For me, a Rosary in hand is more powerful than any Xanax.) Most of all, our faith helps us to make sense of what has happened.

My wife was blessed to receive an Apostolic Pardon when she was on life-support. Seven days later she came off life support and the next day received Holy Communion. Two days after that, she was still breathing on her own but unconscious. The infection had traveled to her heart.

She was transferred to Hospice House and, upon her arrival, my son and I said a Chaplet of Divine Mercy at her bedside . The next day a group from the church came by and said a Rosary and a Chaplet in her room. The last morning of her life an old friend of mine from the SVDP Society came in and we said a Chaplet together. The Chaplet is very powerful when said by someone’s death bed. If I count the Apostolic Pardon, the Chaplets, and the Rosaries, plus Holy Communion, she was most definitely prepared for her impending journey.

Holy Week is upon us. We journey with Christ through His passion and death and then we rejoice at His Resurrection. It was all done for us for one reason—Love. This year my wife gets to witness it all, up close and personal. I can see that great smile of hers beaming everywhere. I have absolutely nothing to cry about, do I? But, since I am human, I’m sure a few more tears will find their way into the days ahead. But it is all GOOD.

Happy Easter everyone.

Copyright 2017 Larry Peterson
This article was originally published at Aleteia.org on April 17, 2017.