Faith – Page 8 – Catholic Writers Guild

Make NO Mistake and Never Forget: Mothers are Women and Female is their Gender

July 3, 2018/1 Comment/in Faith/by Larry Peterson

I found myself writing this around Mother’s Day because the legal definition of “gender” has become controversial. I begin with a quote from Cardinal Giovanni Ravasi; President of the Pontifical Council of Culture:

“The love of man and woman, capable of generating life, is a sign that points to God.”

The following comes from personal experience. My youngest brother, Johnny, had just turned two when Mom died. The previous six months she had been, for the most part, in the hospital. Johnny grew up without ever knowing his mom and her hugs or her voice or her caress. His “shrink” told him his problems with relationships were due to the fact he had lost his mom as a baby. Johnny took his own life three years ago.

Bobby was six years old when Mom died. He always had an anger in him that could expose itself to perceived provocations. He passed away suddenly, eleven years ago. His killer was congestive heart failure. I still think his heart had been irreparably broken at age six and it just took another forty years to give out.

Danny was ten. He is still fine, and we are in frequent contact. I was the oldest, and my sister was second. Dad died a few years after Mom, and we tried to be a mom and a dad to our three brothers. We did our best, but we were in way over our heads. We did survive as a family but, as you can see, having no mom had profound consequences (the dad part I will leave for another day).

I move ahead 16 years to the birth of my daughter. Times were changing, and when Mary came along, I was present, and all decked out in my scrubs and sterile gloves (prior to that time, dads were not allowed into the delivery room).

I was sitting at the end of the delivery room table with my right hand holding the top of my wife’s head. I was looking up into a mirror watching the birth take place. And then, Doctor Butler began to lift his arms and in his hands was a baby. Our baby — a girl.

It seemed that almost instantly the nurse was next to me handing me, my daughter. Her face was still gooey, and her eyes were wide open. She was not crying; rather, she kept staring at me. Her eyes were as blue as the sky and as big as saucers. That was my moment, etched within my mind forever. A more profound moment was on the way.

Within moments baby Mary was being lifted from my hands and taken to her waiting mom. Still lying on the delivery table, Loretta reached out for her baby. That was the moment I understood the power and intrinsic importance of a mom. A mother and her child are forever bound by an unbreakable bond that can only be felt between them. I also believe that dynamic is similar to every child that a mom gives birth to.

Courtesy of Larry Peterson. All rights reserved.

There are many moms who have, because of whatever circumstance and oftentimes out of love and humility, given their child up for adoption. In my heart of hearts, I do not believe any woman “happily” gives away her own child. Interestingly, the adoptive parents will generally love that child as if she or he was their very own and the children would assuredly love them back.

But, at some point in time, the children have a need arise within themselves to ‘find” their birth mom and/or birth dad. That is because an unbreakable bond is always there. No one can remove it or take it away or replace it. It is what it is.

For some, gender neutrality may be the “feel-good” movement for the present moment. But it is a premise built on quicksand and defies all of the Natural Law. Pope St. John Paul II summed it up best:

“God has assigned a duty to every man, the dignity of every woman.”

Within those words are the inspiration for both men and women to defend what God has created.

Please say a prayer for all those folks who cannot remember what having a mom was like.

Truly an extraordinary ministry: I am an EMHC and I am honored to be one

June 5, 2018/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Inspirational, Mercy/by Larry Peterson

I wish to clarify something right away. I am NOT a Eucharistic Minister. I am an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion (EMHC). ‘Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion” is the proper term for the people involved in this ministry. The term “Eucharist” is never to be in their title. That term is reserved for the priest alone (see Redemptionis Sacramentum).

I have been involved in many ministries over the years and have been an EMHC for 23 years. For me, nothing can compare to being an EMHC. It is all about Jesus, the person receiving Jesus, and you being the one who has brought them together. It does not get any better than that.

I rarely miss a visit to my homebound friends. As of this writing, I visit nine every Sunday. Five of them are in their nineties. Honestly, it makes my day. Ironically, it makes their day too, (and sometimeS their week) because they hardly see anyone during the week except home health aides and folks like that. All I come with is a smile, a church bulletin, maybe a prayer card and, of course, their BEST FRIEND.

I have a journaling book, and in the back, I have compiled names of people I have brought Holy Communion to over the years. I want to share a bit about a few of these folks with you. These are Catholic people who have lived their Catholic lives to the best of their ability. Many of them were children during the Great Depression and lived through World War II and into the 21^st century — like my friend George B.

George was in the U.S. Navy and stationed in London in 1940 during the Blitzkrieg. He survived that, came home and wound up at Pearl Harbor. He was there on December 7, 1941, when the Japanese attacked. He and a Marine corporal manned a 50-caliber machine gun and shot down two Japanese Zeroes. The two of them then proceeded to pull men out of the burning water near the USS Arizona. After the war, he was in the circus for more than 20 years. George died several years ago at the age of 97. I loved his stories. He was a walking history book, and he would get veryanimated when he was telling you about his adventures. I brought him Communion every Sunday for more than two years. What an honor that was.

There was Anne S. She was 90 and would be dressed to the “T” every Sunday when I arrived. She would ask, “Why does God keep me here, Larry?”

“Anne,” I would say. “He needs Prayer Warriors. That’s what you are, and that’s why you are here. There are many souls in Purgatory. They need your help.”

She would always smile and point to her rosary and her prayer books on the table next to her. She would point to them and say, “Yes, I know. I do keep busy.” Recruiting “prayer warriors” is an important part of what I do. Anne has been gone for five years.

And my little pal, Scotty Walker. He was a St. Jude baby because of a tumor on his brain stem. That was in 1977 when he was only two years old. When he was 25, he was only 4 feet, 4 inches tall. He started his own lawn service when he was about 17. Scotty wore a big straw hat, and his nose would be just above the lawn-mower handle as he pushed it along. At the same time, he was studying for his GED. He worked his tail off until he could not do so any longer. I brought him Communion every Sunday during the last two years of his life. He died in 2002 when he was 27.

I have been blessed to be part of this ministry. Seven people have received their Viaticum from me. It was not planned that way — it just happened. I pray to each of them all the time. I have on my list over 40 people who have passed on, including both my wives (one died in 2003 and the other in 2017).

I would suggest you look into being part of this ministry. You get to leave the church with Jesus in your pocket and then just you and He get to go visiting His homebound or hospitalized people. It is a beautiful thing.

Did Jesus Appear to His Mom after He Rose from the Dead? The Gospels never mention it.

April 3, 2018/2 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Easter, Faith/by Larry Peterson

Easter was two days ago, and on that glorious morning we heard from the Gospel of John.

“Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciples He loved and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb and we do not know where they have put Him.” (John 20:1-9)

The gospel read at the Easter Vigil is from Mark 16: 1-7. In this gospel, Mary Magdalene and Salome have gone to the tomb to anoint Him. This is when the angel appears to them, and tells them He has risen and to go and tell His disciples.

The following week, on the Second Sunday of Easter ( Divine Mercy Sunday), the gospel is once again from John, this time John 20:19-31. This is when, with the doors locked, Jesus appears to all of them (except “doubting” Thomas). Interestingly, someone is never mentioned in any of these gospel readings. That someone is Jesus’s mom, the Blessed Virgin Mary.

So where was she when Jesus rose from the dead? She was His mother. She was nearby throughout the Passion and watched Him carry His cross. She watched as they drove the nails through His hands and his feet. She stood agonizingly and helplessly by as He was raised on the cross. For three hours she stood there watching every drop of blood leave her boy’s body. She was at the foot of the cross when He died.

No mom should ever have to witness such cruelty heaped upon her own child. Who could have loved him more than she? Doesn’t it seem absolutely unquestionable that the first person who Jesus appeared to after He rose was His Mother? Yet there is not a single mention of the Blessed Virgin in the Resurrection narratives.

In 1931, Pope Pius XI, rooted in findings from the Council of Ephesus in 431, instituted the Feast of the Divine Maternity. Although somewhat obscured by the dogmatic teaching of Mary’s Perpetual Virginity, it is tied tightly to it. The Divine Maternity explains to us that the greatness and majesty that was bestowed on Our Lady was wrapped into a bundle of pure Love from God. For He was the Father of her child. She was the mom. Every drop of Jesus’s DNA comes from His mom. The Father and Son are God. Jesus Christ is truly Human and Divine, separate yet one.

From the Catechism 496: Mary’s Virginity:

From the first formulations of her faith, the Church has confessed that Jesus was conceived solely by the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mary, affirming also the corporeal aspect of this event: Jesus was conceived “by the Holy Spirit without human seed.” The Fathers see in the virginal conception the sign that it truly was the Son of God who came in a humanity like our own …

Back to the Resurrection. As a simple man of faith, I have to believe that Jesus immediately went to see His mom upon leaving the tomb where he was, moments earlier, dead. I shall end this with the following:

VATICAN CITY, MAY 21, 1997 (VIS) –The Holy Father focused the catechesis of today’s general audience in St. Peter’s Square. Pope John Paul II said, “The unique and special nature of the presence of the Virgin at Calvary,” added the Pope, “and her perfect union with the Son in his suffering on the Cross, seem to postulate a very particular participation on her part in the mystery of the Resurrection.”

The Blessed Virgin, who was present at Calvary and at the Cenacle, “was probably also a privileged witness to the Resurrection of Christ, in this way completing her participation in all the essential moments of the paschal mystery. Embracing the risen Jesus, Mary is, in addition, a sign and anticipation of humanity, which hopes to reach its fulfillment in the resurrection of the dead.”

If St. John Paul II says it must be so, that is good enough for me.

The Mercy We Are Called to Live

January 10, 2018/4 Comments/in Faith, Holidays, Mercy, Spiritual Life/by Allison Gingras

When introducing the corporal and spiritual works of mercy in her book, Blessed Are You, author Melanie Rigney writes, “Both types can come free and easy … or hard and challenging” (Franciscan Media, 2016, p. 66). This immediately made me think of the healthy benefits of exercise. I can stroll around the park with the kids, or I can strap on the boxing gloves and go a round with the punching bag.

As I read in Melanie’s chapter on mercy, which included Sts. Teresa of Calcutta, Maria Karlowska, and Frances Xavier Cabrini, she brought an important question to mind. How do I approach the responsibility of showing mercy to others in my own life? She did not mean just the common decency we’re called to extend to each other in day to day living with others. But the “words into action, called to be a saint” kind of mercy.

The Works of Mercy remind us that mercy is much more than forgiveness. In totality, these works encourage us to live beyond ourselves. Though we may not all be called to the streets of India, as Saint Teresa of Calcutta was, we are responsible to care for the poorest of the poor—spiritually and physically.

Take for instance praying for the living and the dead. There is a straightforward way to accomplish this work of mercy such as offering the intentions for others during prayer. One of my favorite “free and easy” praying for others actions involves Facebook and Adoration. Before my Eucharistic Holy Hours, I will post on Facebook an image of the Eucharist in a Monstrance and the words “Can I pray for you?” The response this post garners humbles and amazes me. I typically receive 100 or more likes and/or comments indicating a request for prayer. Then, when I am sitting in the chapel before Jesus in the Eucharist, praying for each person and their intention by name, I am overcome with a profound sense of hope and peace. Though the requests often break my heart, I would still place this act in the easy act of mercy category.

A few years ago, after completing a novena to St. Ann for help with a serious financial matter, I felt a spiritual nudge to give back in charity for great blessings received in an answer to this prayer. After a time of prayer, I was inspired to rejoin the ministry of bringing Holy Communion to the homebound. My pastor was happy to have my help—but it would require me to attend the 8 a.m. Mass and rearrange my work schedule. Sacrifice? I didn’t see that coming; I thought it would be at my leisure and on my time. These were inconvenient sacrifices but the “hard and challenging” was yet to come in a most unexpected way.

First, you have to know I am extremely germophobic. Just weeks into this new ministry, I arrived at my assigned assisted-living location and was greeted by a giant note taped to the door, “ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. STOMACH BUG EPIDEMIC.”

What?!

The situation was made more difficult because in my hand wasn’t regular Communion but Christmas Communion. How could I not bring them Jesus for Christmas? Christmas was just days away when I was expected to host our family Christmas celebration. It felt selfish to walk into the building and risk getting sick, or worse, exposing my entire family to the bug. Yet, I was holding “Christmas Jesus” and I knew my new friends were looking forward to receiving Communion, which made it seem selfish to walk away.

As my spiritual director always says, “If you are going to trust God, then you need to trust God!” The hard and challenging aspect of this valuable work was trusting God regarding my health for the sake of serving others. When we step out in faith to serve God’s people, we, in essence, become Christ in the world. Even the simplest of tasks can come with obstacles and difficulties; our spiritual muscles are strengthened when we forge through despite them. As in my exercise analogy, the workout that is harder takes more determination and effort. And let’s be honest, the harder workout will produce the greater benefit, too.

In case you are wondering, I did go into the building that morning, and I did not get sick. The smell of Lysol wafting heavily in the air gave me a bit of confidence, but the joy on the face of the first woman quickly told me I made the right choice. I next visited a sweet couple, who had been married for over seventy years. When I was preparing to leave, the wife said, “Jesus will bless you for your kindness.”

Reflecting on that special Christmas, regardless of whether I had become ill or not, the Lord had indeed abundantly blessed me. Abandoning my fears and mustering up my courage to walk through those electronic doors that Christmas elevated my trust in God to a whole new level. The reinforced trust generated in that experience would become the greatest gift I received that year.

Greeting the New Year—the Catholic Way

January 4, 2018/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Faith, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

According to Georgetown University , as of October 2017, there are 1.28 billion Catholics in the world. 70.4 million of them are in the United States. The USA has a population of approximately 330,000,000 people. That works out to about 22% of the American population being Catholic.

From the Pope down to the vagrant, each of us is an individual creation made by God. We are all unique. Incredibly, we will all be judged individually. And, as Catholics, we will be held to a higher standard. After all, we proclaim to be part of the Mystical Body of Christ which is filled with the deposit of faith. No matter how we lived our lives, the common denominator for all of us will be: How much we loved each other and our neighbor.

Based on that, here are some points to consider if we focus on, before all else, pleasing God in the New Year, the Catholic Way:

Never forget that you are God’s individual creation and therefore a gift He has bestowed on the world. Be humbled by the fact that He does have you in the palm of His hand. Without Him you are nothing.
Be happy with who and what you are. God made you and loves If you feel you need to change to please Him, you can do it. Just ask for His help.
The choices you make are your responsibility. Sometimes our choices hurt us. Embrace them and learn from them and move on. Thank God for the experience.
Sometimes NOT getting what you want or what you think you need is a gift. If you trust God, you will thank Him. When “one door closes another opens.”
Always count your blessings — not your troubles.
Always do your best. The “best” is all God expects from each of us.
You can make it through whatever comes along.
Prayer is the most powerful of weapons and can be your greatest ally in all diversity.
Don’t take things too seriously — especially yourself.
The key to happiness is to give of yourself, not to “get” for yourself.
Miracles happen; you are one — I am one — we all are one.
Temptation is everywhere. It is okay to say “NO.”
Finally, never fail to help a neighbor, whoever it may be — even a stranger.

We all will experience “highs and lows” during the coming year. As Catholics, we have the armor of the Church to shield us and the angels and saints to help us fight our battles with the evil one.

St. Michael the Archangel will always ‘defend us in battle.” St. Anthony will help us find lost items. St. Jude will help us through seemingly impossible barricades. Good St. Joseph is ready to help all men be good fathers and husbands. St. Monica will help moms and St. Dymphna will help those with experiencing emotional difficulties or suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. And, of course, the Blessed Virgin Mary is always there for all of us.

Virtually every day of the calendar year honors a particular saint, and that saint has been assigned a special task, such as St. Padre Pio, who is the patron of adolescents and volunteers, or St. Maximilian Kolbe, martyred in the Holocaust, who is the patron of drug addicts. Help is always available when you are Catholic.

Lastly, we have in place for our salvation the most beautiful thing this side of heaven; the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. We can actually be at the foot of the Cross and then witness the resurrection. It is there for all of us every day if we so CHOOSE. Then there are the sacraments, always available to build us up and restore us to where we should be.

Yes—being Catholic is very cool. We even have the Rosary.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, 2018 –“No Fear”

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.

The Piano Farewell: My Wife’s Passing is Now Complete yet the Music Lives On*

September 1, 2017/7 Comments/in Faith/by Larry Peterson

My wife, Marty, after a four+ year downward spiral with cancer and Alzheimer’s disease, passed last March. But, for me, her passing was never complete as long as her piano remained at home. Recently, her piano found a new home and the way it all played out was truly a beautiful thing. I thought I should share it here.

___________________________________________

“To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.” St. Thomas Aquinas

Marty passed away this past March and her piano remained behind. It was part of her, an extension if you will, for no matter how much of her memory disappeared, every day she would still manage to play that piano. The last few months of her life she probably sat playing it two to three hours a day. It followed that after she was gone the piano stayed right where it had always been, the only difference being the silence resonating from it.

Copyright 2017 Larry Peterson. All rights reserved.

The presence of her piano had extended the grief process for me. When you came in my front door it was right there, waiting to be brought to life. It was silent but when I looked at it I could see Marty sitting there playing. At times I could even hear the music. When I did it was so clear and vivid that at times I just had to leave the house. I even thought I was “losing” it.

After several weeks I covered the piano up with a large blanket. I placed a few knickknacks on top and did my best to ignore it. The camouflage worked just a tiny bit but it was better than nothing. What to do? What to do? Here is where my faith comes in. Here is where I opened myself up and “let go and let God.”

I thought of selling the piano, but that thought evaporated quickly. There was no way I could “sell” Marty’s piano. I wanted it to go to someone who could not afford one and who would be able to play. So I contacted my parish and after two or three weeks of “no response” I forgot about it. So I just kept praying and waited.

Hospice had a bereavement group that had begun on May 10. I decided to attend. We met once a week for six weeks. I had discussed the piano with them. When we had finished our meetings, the three of us who were left exchanged our email addresses and phone numbers. On July 27, I received a Facebook message from Sue, who was part of the bereavement group. She wrote that the music director at the Anona Methodist Church (who was also a piano teacher) might know a family that could use a piano.

I phoned the music director. Her name was Sandy and she told me that she knew a lady named Sarah, who had a seven-year-old boy who was learning to play. They only had a keyboard as the family could not afford a piano. It was a perfect scenario. I asked Sandy if she would have Sarah call me, and the next day she did. She was thrilled at the opportunity to get this piano for her son. And herein is when I fully understood how God was in charge of this entire piano saga.

Marty began playing a piano at the age of six or seven. 70 years later, Sarah’s son has begun playing at the age of six or seven. I thought about it and realized that it is possible that maybe 70 years from now, an older man might be playing a piano somewhere. He would have learned to play on the same piano that a woman named Marty played her last song on 70 years earlier. In essence, the music coming from that piano had never stopped and now spanned four generations. And yes, the possibility exists that it may continue well after he is gone. Who knows, right?

I have absolutely no doubt that this was “meant to be” and here is why; the piano was picked up and delivered to its new owner on August 10. That is the Feast Day (and this only happens once a year) of St. Lawrence, who is my patron Saint (talk about messaging). Having Faith (as quoted by Aquinas above) is a beautiful thing. My prayers were, without a doubt, answered.

One final thought; I can see Marty looking down with that great big smile of hers stretched from ear to ear. She is watching as a little boy sits at her piano and fingers the very keys she had fingered only six months earlier. And, as is God’s way of things, life goes on. On occasion, so does His music.

*Another version of this appeared in Aleteia on August 11, 2017

Maybe I’m Amazed

July 5, 2017/1 Comment/in Beauty, Faith, Family Life, Inspirational/by Janice Palko

By Janice Lane Palko

Do you collect anything? Aside from the occasional Christmas ornament I pick up whenever I travel to a new destination, I don’t collect anything material. However, I do have a collection of intangible treasures that I regard as priceless.

One gem is the first time I saw a shooting star. I was probably eleven years old, and we were at a picnic playing hide and seek. As the call of “Olly olly oxen free” went up, I emerged from my hiding place to run across a dark field to home base, when on the horizon before me, a shooting star streaked across the sky. I was so amazed by the sight that I stopped short and stood in the black field with my mouth gaping in awe.

Another gem I collected twelve years ago while on a cruise in the Caribbean with my family. It was that magical time of day when it’s still light but the sun is sinking and everything drips with melting gold. There were several other ships in port in St. Maarten with us, and as evening drew near, one-by-one the ships left for the open sea. The water was flat and the wind was nil. As my dad and I stood at the rail on the upper deck, we watched as each ship sailed into the setting sun. But what I will never forget is how each of their wakes left a golden filigree on the placid surface of the sea for miles.

I picked up another treasure several years ago while on another cruise–this time near Mexico. After spending the afternoon in port, we came back to our room to recuperate before getting ready for dinner. While my husband and son lounged in our cabin, I went out onto the small veranda off our room, sat in the lounge chair, and closed my eyes to relax. As I was dozing, I was awakened by the sound of several shipmates on the decks above and below me shouting, “Whale!” I glanced to my right, and there beside the ship was this enormous whale leaping out of the ocean. I couldn’t get to my feet fast enough to open the cabin door and yell, “Come quick. There’s a whale!” As my family watched this sleek whale put on a show, I looked above and below us. Hundreds of passengers had gathered on the verandas of the various decks. There were so many people lining the rails on this side of the ship, it was a wonder we didn’t tip.

Just last month, I added a new treasure to my collection. We had tickets to see U2 at Pittsburgh’s Heinz Field. It was rather chilly for June. And cloudy, but that is not unusual for Pittsburgh. We had cheap seats, high in the upper deck, but as they gave a glorious view of Pittsburgh’s skyline, I didn’t mind sitting up that high. But what really impressed me was something that happened moments before U2 took the stage. Although it was not raining anywhere in sight, a red rainbow formed over the field and terminated above where the group would soon appear. Now, I’ve seen many rainbows, but this was unusual because there was no precipitation and because you could not see any other colors of the spectrum but red against the leaden sky.

Red Rainbow

It seemed that everyone saw the phenomenon at once as a gasp arose from the crowd and thousands of cell phones were held aloft to capture the beautiful sight. The red rainbow stayed for several minutes, and then before it faded, it cast its light on the surrounding clouds turning them a rosy pink. Sure, U2 was good, but I’ll never forget that red rainbow.

I can’t remember where I read this, but someone once observed that humans are continuously fascinated by God’s handiwork but easily become bored with things made by human hands. Case in point. If you grew up during the 1960s and 70s, you may remember the nation’s fascination with the space program. People clustered around their televisions to watch Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, but with each successive trip into space, less and less people paid attention. Yet, people never get bored with watching something as simple as a sunset.

Why does that happen? Clearly, there is something embedded in the human soul that longs for the Divine. The summer provides us with more opportunities to be out in nature and to observe God at work in His creation. Keep your eyes open. It may be something as simple as a hummingbird buzzing your garden or as spectacular as bioluminescent ocean waves pounding a beach or the flash of the Northern Lights that give you a glimpse of His glory. You never know what treasure He may cast before you that will spark your sense of amazement and that will become a cherished addition to your treasure chest.

It’s Perfect – Not!

June 7, 2017/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Family Life, Hope, Inspirational, Mercy, non-fiction, Spiritual Life/by Janice Palko

By Janice Lane Palko

It was Father’s Day weekend thirty-one years ago. Married only a couple of years, my husband and I had moved into our first house that previous January. We’d spent that spring painting, wallpapering—the things you do to get a home into shape. On Saturday of that weekend, I’d cleaned the whole house while my husband had spent the day outside trimming hedges, weeding, and cutting grass in anticipation of a Father’s Day picnic for both sides of our family—the first event in our first home.

As we called it a day, I remember looking at our neatly manicured lawn and gleaming house and thinking, “Everything is perfect.”

Then the phone rang at 7:04 a.m. Who calls that early on a Sunday morning? I thought as my husband rolled over and answered it. When I saw the color drain from his face, I knew something was terribly wrong. He hung up and stared blankly at me, too stunned to show any emotion. “That was my mom. Tommy’s been killed in a motorcycle accident.” Tommy was his twenty-three-year-old little brother.

We’d anticipated a Father’s Day picnic filled with fun and laughter. Instead, we were now faced with death, identifying a body at the morgue, and making funeral arrangements.

So much for perfection.

Flash forward to June seven years later. I’m sitting in a counselor’s office after suffering for months with panic attacks. “From what I’ve observed,” the kind therapist said, “You are very hard on yourself. You need to allow yourself to be human. You think you have to be perfect.”

As you can see, my dance with perfection has been filled with missteps. From Tommy’s death, I learned that life is not perfect and never will be, and through my joust with anxiety, I learned that I am not perfect and never will be.

So, how does someone who’s had these types of reality checks with perfection square them with Jesus’s words in Matthew’s Gospel where He instructs us to “Be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

To a perfectionist, His words area a recipe for disaster. You may have heard the adage “Perfection is the enemy of the good.” Well, when we perfectionists get rolling, we tend to discount anything, however good, that does not meet our level of perfection. We get tangled up in being immaculate. I’ve worked hard not to be a perfectionist, so when I came across that bit of scripture again recently, I, once again, reacted to it with disregard and confusion—not a good way to react to scripture.

I know perfection is impossible and shouldn’t even be pursued lest I become paralyzed in my quest to be flawless. There is no perfection on this side of eternity. I know I cannot be perfect, I made myself sick trying. Why would Jesus impose such an impossible directive on those He loves?

Ah, but I’ve also come to learn that when Jesus commands us to do something, He always promises to provide us with the grace to achieve it. His words in John’s Gospel provide the key. “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Apart from Him, I cannot reach perfection. Apart from Him, the world wallows in sin and destruction. Perfection in the way Jesus means is a work of transformation and something for me not to achieve but to surrender to. Through Jesus and His act of redemption, we reach perfection. Paul in his letter to Philippians gives us this assurance: “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

I’ve learned that Jesus is working on me, and that sounds absolutely perfect to me.