Cath-Lit Live: Becoming Wife by Rachel Bulman

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Cath-Lit Live: Becoming Wife by Rachel Bulman

“Cath-Lit Live!” features brief interviews with Catholic authors who are releasing new books. Hosted by Catholic author and speaker Amy J. Cattapan, “Cath-Lit Live!” gives viewers a glimpse into the latest Catholic books while getting to know a bit about the author as well.

 

 

Becoming Wife: Saying Yes to More Than the Dress by Rachel Bulman

Whether you are preparing to be or are already a wife, you likely are immersed in the external reality of marriage. But being wife is so much more: It’s a call to holiness and a vocation of incredible significance. Becoming Wife explores what it means for a woman to fulfill this vocation. Catholic wife, mother, speaker, and author Rachel Bulman shares – like a friend over a cup of coffee – how being a wife is at once a calling and a purpose. The more a wife makes herself a gift to her husband, to her children, and to the world, the more she inevitably becomes the person God created her to be. She becomes more wife, more woman, more Christian. Thus, she fulfills her identity as a daughter of God and cultivates the soil from which her motherhood comes to fruition. By exploring the life of the Blessed Mother and the guidance of great minds in the Church, like Saint John Paul II and Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, this book unwraps the gift of becoming a wife and what it means to make a “total gift” of oneself through matrimony. 

 

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About the author: Rachel Bulman is a lover of humanity, especially her husband and six children. A national speaker and author, she also appears with her family in the show Meet the Bulmans, currently airing on the Word on Fire Institute’s YouTube channel. She serves on the advisory board of The GIVEN Institute and frequently gives talks at retreats, conferences, and other gatherings. In her spare time, she enjoys reading a good book, lifting weights, and perfecting her Old Fashioned cocktail recipe. 

 

 

You can catch “Cath-Lit Live” live on A.J. Cattapan’s author Facebook page. Recorded versions of the show will also be available to watch later on her YouTube channel and Instagram.

 

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Copyright 2023 Amy J. Cattapan
Banner image via Pexels

The Greatest Gift

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The Greatest Gift

We live in an age when there are a lot of misconceptions about love. Some people seem to think that love is primarily about emotion, about warm feelings toward another person. And it’s no wonder that they think that, when so many contemporary novels, songs, movies, and TV shows tend to portray love in this way. In contrast to these popular depictions of love, Hans Urs von Balthasar, the brilliant Roman Catholic theologian from Switzerland, offers us a far more demanding (but also far more fulfilling) definition of love: Love is the selfless gift of self, given and received.

The gift of self: if you’re married, that’s what your spouse wants from you: your spouse wants you; your self; your heart. Ideally, your spouse reciprocates your gift of self with his or her own gift of self to you. If that’s not where your relationship is at right now, make a change. No, don’t change spouses. Change the way you’re treating your spouse, and watch how those changes can improve and strengthen your marriage. Make a genuine effort to be more giving, more generous, more sacrificial, for your spouse’s sake. Hopefully, sooner or later (hang in there if it takes a while), they’ll notice the change in you, and they’ll become more willing to reciprocate with their own sacrificial gift of self. Be the change you want to see in your marriage instead of just wishing for a better relationship, and you can help bring about that change.

The gift of self: if you have children, that’s what your children want from you, too: you; your self; your heart. Of course, your children want and need many other things from you: food, clothing, shelter, education, etc. But what your children most need from you is…you. That’s why it’s so important that you spend as much time as possible with your kids while they’re growing up. It’s a cliché, but it’s true: you never get the years of their childhood back, so make the most of them while you can. Your kids need as much of your time and attention as you can give them. They want to get to know you (at least until they’re teenagers, when they may think they have you all figured out already anyway), and they want you to get to know them. When your young child excitedly asks you to look at the picture he or she just drew, they’re not just looking to share a picture; they’re trying to share themselves – their talents, their interests, etc. They’re not looking for just a nod and a perfunctory “That’s nice”. Yes, they’re looking for your affirmation and your approval, but they’re also looking to connect with you. They want you to take a genuine interest in their work, and thereby, an interest in them. Put the cell phone down and really look at the drawing (and at your child!). Give them the chance to talk about what they drew, why they drew it, etc., because that gives them the chance to tell you about themselves, to share themselves with you. It’s one of the ways they’re trying to tell you they love you. By giving them your undivided attention and by taking a real interest in the picture they’re trying to share with you, you’re not only opening yourself up to receive the gift of self your child is offering you; you’re also giving them the gift of your own self in return.

The gift of self: if you’re a human being, that’s what God wants from you. God wants you; your self; your heart. And God doesn’t ask for anything that he hasn’t already given. Jesus Christ is God’s self-gift to the world. God wants to be united with each of us forever. We were created for union, union with God and our fellow human beings. The Son of God became one of us to make that union possible. Jesus is God’s gift of his heart to the world, the gift of his heart to each and every one of us. And God’s hope is that we will respond to his gift of self with our own gift of self in return.

* This article is an excerpt from Rick’s latest book, The Book of Love: Brief Meditations (https://enroutebooksandmedia.com/thebookoflove/)

Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash

Copyright 2023 Rick Clements

Three Things I’ve Learned from my Chickens

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Three Things I’ve Learned from my Chickens

As writers, we know that one aspect of writing well is writing authentically. By that I mean we have to follow the rules of the reality we are writing about, whatever they may be. The rules governing Middle Earth are a little different than those in Narnia, for example.  If we are writing about our own world, here on planet Earth, 2023, one practice that can help us write authentically is the habit of being observant of the world around us, so that we can convey those small details in our stories. In fact, being observant might even lead to a new understanding.

What does any of this have to do with chickens, you might ask?  Doesn’t the title of this article signify something having to do with those small animals? Besides, I’m not saying anything new in that opening paragraph.

Let me begin, then, by saying that I never intended to become “the chicken lady” of my neighborhood. When my husband called from work one day, saying that a colleague had no further need of 4 unhatched baby chicks and did I think we could take them in for a while, I said “Sure” simply because I like animals and couldn’t stand the thought of those little chickies being – literally – thrown away. That was about the extent of my thinking.

Fast forward a year and a half later, and we now have 5 stout ladies who take up a third of our backyard. And they are delightful. I have become thoroughly attached to them. Through observing them closely these past several months, I’ve also learned a few things. Here are 3 of them.

  1. Habits can produce happiness.

My hens follow the same routine every day. They wake up with the sunrise, then run out to munch on the food I give them. It is always the same food, but they are nevertheless excited to see it every morning. They spend the rest of the day alternating between scratching for bugs, chatting with each other and resting.  At 7pm each evening, they gather by their gate and call for their nightly visit. I bring them some rice or a little bread and we spend time together. After a few more sips of water, and a little extra scratching, they put themselves to bed at dusk.  They follow this same routine every day. They witness to the importance of good daily habits, of doing a little bit consistently over time, every day. I often wonder what I could get done if I was such a creature of routine.

2. Don’t be afraid to try.

Even though my hens are quite content in their pen, that doesn’t mean they don’t look up and notice the green grass and fresh flowers blooming in other parts of the yard. They are always up for new ways to escape their yard to get to greener pastures. (In fact, I am convinced that whoever wrote the script for the movie Chicken Run really did have chickens.) Our Rhode Island Red, Cocoa, makes a point of pushing on the garden gate at least once an hour, just in case it has been left open. Our silver Welbar, Sandy, learned exactly where to stand so that she could fly up and just reach the tip of the fence, push off with her foot, and propel herself into the grass. They also know our habits, and often try to follow the dogs in and out.  I think they hope we won’t notice an extra pair of legs.  Even though they appreciate their home, they’re never afraid to push on the gate one more time or keep an eye out for another weak spot in the fence. They remind me not to get too complacent, but to keep looking up and trying.

3. Appreciate your community.

My little flock did not choose each other, but they’ve formed themselves into a community nevertheless. Although they are all different types of hens, they get along. Yes, there is certainly a pecking order (Sandy is at the top) but there is still room for everyone, despite their various temperaments. For example, Pebbles, our black Australorp, tends to get broody and take over the nesting box, while Pepper, a light Brahma and the smallest of the five chickens, likes to make up for her small size by being feisty and pecking everyone, including the dogs. Occasionally there are some ruffled feathers but most of the time there are contented, chatty clucks and check-ins, and at the end of the day they all go into the hen house and sleep peacefully together.  If I’ve had a hard day with a difficult person, I really notice their ability to not hold a grudge and to let bygones be bygones. It reminds me that I might not always want to spend a lot of time around a certain person or persons, but I don’t have to take everything personally and I don’t have to carry resentment with me every day. (And I’m always somewhat flabbergasted that the hens consider our two pitties part of their community!)

These are a few of the conclusions I’ve come to over the last few months, in the mornings with my coffee watching them greet the new day, and in the evenings as the sun is setting.  As I mentioned above, close observation of the world around us helps us to be better writers, and maybe even better people. These five little ladies are speaking to me all the time. Is there something that speaks to you in your life?  What do you closely observe? And is it changing you?

©Copyright 2023 by Sarah Pedrozo

Featured image from iStock-chicken (3)

Bottom two photos by Sarah Pedrozo ©Copyright 2023 by Sarah Pedrozo

 

Just A Little Bit

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Just A Little Bit

My default mode is all-or-nothing. Do I want to volunteer at church? I’m gonna sign up for everything and do it all. Do I feel overwhelmed about keeping memories for the kids? No one gets a baby book at all. Do I want to lose weight? I track every single calorie and work out for two hours, five days a week. Am I struggling to find time to write while the kids are home for the summer? I should just quit writing altogether.

What I love about the all-or-nothing mentality is that when I put it in writing like this, I can clearly see the absurdity of my logic. Yet, when I’m in my moments of being overwhelmed, quitting completely feels like not only a rational option, but the only viable one.

I’ve developed many different strategies for combating this all-or-nothing mentality, including prayer, taking deliberate personal time, and talking to a friend who is currently more rational than I am. But sometimes the best defense is a good offense, and I’ve been working on reminding myself that even if I can only accomplish a little bit, that still has value.

The reality for me is that during the summer, when my four daughters are home all day, I won’t be gifted with large blocks of time for writing. Thirty minutes, first thing in the morning may be all I get one day, and that is still better than not writing at all. I don’t have the luxury (nor endurance) for two-hour workouts anymore, yet twenty minutes on the elliptical still beats sitting on the couch all day.

Ever since I made a pilgrimage to Fatima in November of 2022, my heart has longed to move to Portugal. I’m telling y’all—all-or-nothing. I felt so much peace and so close to God while I was there that I want to uproot the whole family and move to a country where we don’t speak a single word of the native language.

One of my favorite heavenly friends, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux reminds me every day (through my garden flag) to bloom where I’m planted. It’s possible God wants me in Fatima one day, but I know that today is not that day. My kids are struggling enough with a move within the continental U.S., and I can’t imagine if we took them to a whole new country without explicit direction from God.

Yet my heart longs for that pilgrimage feeling, so in my growing attempt to do just a little bit, I planned something slightly smaller than a move to Portugal. This past weekend, my family went on our first ever mini-pilgrimage. We have visited churches while traveling before, but we’ve never set out with the sole purpose of growing closer to Christ through experiencing a holy site right here, close(ish) to home.

Now that we live in Kansas, we are only about two hours away from Gower, MO, the home of the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of the Apostles. This may sound familiar, as this is the place where the body of their foundress, Sister Wilhilmena Lancaster, has been discovered as “incorrupt.”

Her body was not embalmed, and she was laid in only a simple, wooden coffin. Yet after four years in the ground, her body and habit remain intact. A case for sainthood has not even been opened yet, since it hasn’t been five years since her death.  The nuns of the abbey excavated her remains to move her to the newly completed St. Joseph’s Shrine, fully expecting to find only bones to inter. I can only imagine the reactions of her fellow sisters when they made that discovery!

Since we were going to be in Missouri, we decided to also stop by the nearby town of Conception, which is the home of an abbey of Benedictine monks, a seminary, and the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. We left home on Sunday afternoon after Mass with our regular parish and visited the stunning basilica (including cookies baked by monks!) before getting to the hotel. Then on Monday we went to the other abbey and celebrated the traditional Latin Mass with the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of the Apostles and saw the body of Sr. Wilhelmina.

And that was it (ok, then we stopped at Sam’s Club on the way home because, you know, real life). We were out of our house for barely more than 24 hours, and it was one of the best family trips we’ve ever taken. The mini-pilgrimage was long enough to feel spiritual and fulfilling, and gratifying that I’m doing right by these kids that God has entrusted to my care. The mini-pilgrimage was short enough that my kids weren’t biting each others’ heads off and completely sucking my joy dry.

A little bit was enough. A little bit was beautiful and rewarding. I’m gonna keep trying to do just a little bit each day.

 

Maria Riley 2023

A Place at the Table

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A Place at The Table

Our Italian/Irish family get togethers are large. Typically, at least ten or fifteen gather for dinner, even when it’s only immediate family. I have always loved how we celebrate birthdays and holidays, but how do we look to outsiders?

Though full of love, our often loud and borderline obnoxious group probably looks like a three-ring circus at times. Possibly we are more normal than I give us credit for. In either case, bringing family together is very important to me. The family unit, however, does not only apply to those related to you but also to the body of Christ. God unites us all as the body of the Church, which is cause for celebration as well.

Recently I hosted my family for a holiday, and as the hostess, I kept busy cooking and ensuring my guests had an enjoyable time. I love having my family and friends over to our home. Over the years, we have invested in many updates that make the space more inviting and comfortable. One of those new additions which I am particularly proud of is a portrait of the Last Supper.

Jesus celebrated with his disciples at the last supper by reclining at the table and sharing bread and wine. The warmth of the picture I chose to display is very inviting. The faces of those in the room appear captivated by Jesus. The scene draws my faithful heart in, and even a non-believer would find it compelling.

Since the scene is Jesus having a meal with the disciples, I knew the dining room was our only option when deciding where to hang it. Wall space was an issue because of a couple of windows in that room. Because of the space limitations, the picture appears larger than life. I don’t think that’s all bad. It brings Jesus right to our table.

On the afternoon of our holiday, as my Dad rose from his seat, he commented on one area of the painting, bringing a sense of intrigue to those of us present. The disciples and Jesus are all seated around the table. In one area between Jesus and another disciple is a large gap. The lighting in the picture has a beautiful shadow on the wall behind Jesus and the others. No shadow is in this area, suggesting an open space. A place at the table, so to speak. 

I cannot recall Dad’s exact wording, but his comment was beautiful. He wondered if the area of space alongside Jesus was for us. Remembering it now as I put these words to the page fills me with love. I grew excited and thanked him for giving me a topic to write about. It wasn’t until later that I focused on inserting myself in that spot.

I studied the disciples’ expressions and thought about what mine would look like. Would I look surprised by Jesus’ words or have the appearance of peace and comfort? Upon another glance, I noticed that one of the disciples had his face against his folded hands. Does this represent sadness or concern? After contemplating the scene, I concluded that my facial expression would be as it is now, joyfully expressing God’s light and love. 

A relationship with Jesus brings pure joy, which looks different for everyone. Some may appear calm and peaceful, and others are joyful when they rest within praying hands. Dad has given me a new glimpse into this part of my journey with Christ, and for that, I am grateful. God has invited me to the table through the conversation that day. An invitation that I choose to accept every day, and I pray the same for you. God Bless.

Copyright 2023 Kimberly Novak
Images copyright Kimberly Novak and Canva

We ALL Teach, So Be Careful of What and How!

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We ALL Teach, So Be Careful of What and How!

Many years ago, I taught at a local Catholic elementary and high school. It was my first professional teaching job, and I was excited to pass along the knowledge I’d garnered over my years in college. As a Catholic school music teacher, I taught science, math, English, history… and sometimes music. I had one student in my history class who was NOT going to pass and, furthermore, didn’t care. When I approached him with this information, he kept saying, “I don’t care! I’m going into my family’s business. I don’t care if I pass or not.”

Exasperated, I asked, “What’s your ‘family’s’ business?’” Imagine my surprise when the young man told me his family’s business was something VERY illegal!

My teaching training kicked in, and I said, “Well, even in your dad’s business, history plays a large part! He needs to research, plan, and know the history of the situation he will be walking into.” The student gave me a wary look, smirked, and walked away.

At a parents’ evening at school, the student’s father asked to see me alone. Needless to say, I was nervous. I suddenly wished I’d become a banker instead of a teacher. Soon a mountain of a man ambled into my classroom scowling, “I’m [so-and-so’s] pappa.” I swallowed hard and stuck out my hand for him to shake. In an instant, he had his bear-paw-sized hands and arms around me—giving me a hug and beginning to sob.

All I could do was stand there and say, “It’s okay, it’s okay, whatever it is, it’ll be alright…”

After the man composed himself, he told me his son had told him about our exchange. He was shocked into reality. He said, “I had no idea he even knew what I did for a living, let alone planned on going into it.” The father had been preaching one thing to his son, “Be a good boy. Always do the right thing. Listen to your elders…” Meanwhile, his actions were teaching him to do something different.

For the sixth Sunday of Easter, we’ll hear of Phillip converting an entire community, then James and Peter coming to “confirm” what Phillip had done and laying hands on them to confer the Holy Spirit to them, making sure the people honestly knew who the Christ was. Then we hear Peter telling us we need to embrace holiness and be able to explain why we believe what we believe. And furthermore, we need to “show-and-tell” in a way that is not confrontational. Finally, we have Jesus telling us that IF we fully integrate what he taught into our lives, he will send the Holy Spirit to fill us and help us in every decision.

What we teach matters, but so does how.

If you were wondering what happened to the student, I am very happy to report he went on to business school and owns a local business that is considered a jewel of the community.

Copyright 2023 Ben Bongers

For I know the Plans I Have for You

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For I know the Plans I Have for You (Jer. 29:11)

Greetings, fellow travelers. I am (probably) the newest contributor to the CWG blog. In an attempt to introduce myself, I decided to offer the following recollections that I wrote for a smaller audience. This is a deeply personal account, but it’s how I roll.

I was widowed two years ago, and it significantly altered my perception of marriage, God and our eternal trajectory. Retrospect is the critical viewpoint in this narrative, since my husband and I did not convert to Catholicism until we were in our mid-thirties. Hence, God’s plan for our lives was not immediately intuited, although we eventually recognized the critical nature of the Catholic faith in our marriage. It was this faith that would provide continuity and structure to the sacrament we shared. We were married for 42 years, and this is our story:

My husband, Steve, was a risk-taker.

I was not.

Our third date I found him cheerfully explaining the constellations of scars on his head and chin—which he identified as wounds from embedded gravel—the result of a tire blowout during a high-speed motorcycle ride on a gravel road. Apparently, he went airborne before the force of gravity did what gravity tends to do—and it sucked him into the hard, graveled surface below him.

I watched, horrified, as he retold the story, complete with sound effects, and enthusiastic arm-flapping.

“You’re lucky to be alive!” I gasped. He smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. His grin grew even wider.

“Weren’t you scared?” I exclaimed.

“Nah,” he said casually, “I was too busy trying to keep the bike from falling on top of me and killing me.”

I remember being incredulous, as I tried to comprehend his explanation. I did not understand this attitude toward life. I risked nothing. I gambled on nothing, and I kept everything in my world ordered and safe. We could not have been more different. Who is this guy? I thought.

Eventually, and against my better judgment, Steve managed to talk me onto the back of his dirt bike—after assuring me that he wouldn’t go too fast. I believed him (mostly) even when we were sailing over huge hills with considerable hang time, before landing on the other side of the hill. I remember clutching my arms around his waist and screaming into his back, while he yelled reassurances that everything was fine. (I think he really enjoyed that part.)

Steve frequently challenged the forces of nature with every ounce of his seemingly immortal body. If he wasn’t defying gravity, he was water skiing without skis, or driving snowmobiles across frozen ponds. It always seemed to me that he was like one of those giant grasshoppers that flies erratically into oncoming cars—barely missing the windshield with an artful dodge.

Alternatively, the laws of physics and the general nature of risk, did nothing to inspire intestinal fortitude within. My formative years had been painful, and I trusted no one. Night after night, I remember begging a distant God for deliverance—a deliverance that always seemed elusive—rendering my nominal faith into shadows.

Despite my spiritual quagmire, I gradually began to appreciate Steve’s attitude toward life. Scientific laws can be harnessed if you have the right tools, and the world is approachable if you are comfortable with who you are. Steve was all those things—and slowly, patiently (sometimes) he taught me to take risks: with others, with myself, and of course … his motorcycle.

Initially, I did not realize that God had finally offered me deliverance in the form of a young man with an irrepressible temperament—but it seems rather obvious now. It would have required someone with that kind of fortitude to wage battle with the seen and unseen forces around me.

It turns out that God had been listening all along.

It should come as no surprise that Steve went on to have a successful career in law enforcement before retiring due to injuries he sustained in the line of duty. Those injuries are what ultimately caused his death, but he would have settled for nothing less. That’s just how HE rolled.

January marked the second anniversary of Steve’s death, and if I could tell him anything right now, I think it would be this: Thank you for taking a chance on this wisp of a soul. You are proof that God answers prayer on the most elemental level. I am forever grateful to you—and most importantly—to God, who is ever-merciful, and actively involved in the most intimate details of our lives.

This knowledge fills me with child-like trust–secure in the knowledge that God always has a plan.

©Copyright 2023 by Sarah Torbeck

Book Review: A new Catholic Chapter Book Series

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Saint Joseph, The Foster-Father Saint, is the first in the Adventures with the Saints Series. Maria Riley takes the young reader on a journey into God’s word. Using honest and factual situational instances, Maria eloquently describes the foster care process through adoption. Throughout the story, the genuine love of family is highlighted between Joshua, the foster child, and his soon-to-be forever family. How Maria guides the young reader into this family is endearing and easily understood, appealing to a third-grade reading level.

Aside from the feelings of comfort Joshua receives once he joins this family in foster care are gems of inspiration and events which educate and enhance the knowledge of God and His love.  Valuable lessons are woven throughout each chapter, which benefits not only Joshua but also his new siblings. These instances are portrayed in adventurous ways and have a powerful effect.

Many aspects of family life during the adoption process are depicted honestly and give the reader a look into the child’s heart. This is likely due to Maria’s deep love for all her children, even though they didn’t come to her the same way.  Maria and her husband were foster parents and adopted three of her four daughters through foster care.

“You are a gift from God, and I thank God every day for giving me the precious gift of you.”

As the “adventure” unfolds, Maria brings the reader into the biblical story just after the birth of Jesus. It is in this endearing moment when the importance of God’s love for all His children is brought to the forefront. The many educational opportunities within this story are perfect for the intended reading level and beyond. As an adult, reading the story with child-like faith brought me deeper into the loving relationship between St. Joseph and baby Jesus.

The effects the adventure has on the three children differ depending on their ages, and this compares wonderfully to how God’s word affects us all in different ways.  As a mom of three adult children, being reminded that my children are not only mine but belong to God was eye-opening. Children may outgrow the parent/child relationship; however, when a child is brought up in the love of God, spiritual growth is never-ending. This valuable lesson for parents is hidden within the creativity of Maria’s writing.

My favorite parent moment happens in the last chapter when Molly, their mom, enters the scene after the children have expressed their feelings to one another. Upon listening to the children honestly express what they had been up to that afternoon, Molly does not discount any of it. Instead, she responds with excitement, joy, and genuine interest in hearing about their conversations with the beloved saint.

As the first in the series, Saint Joseph, The Foster-Father Saint, is a blessing for all families, not only those involved in foster care!  St. Joseph, The Foster-Father Saint, releases in November 2022, with more series installments in a few months. 

You can purchase the book on Amazon or at MariaRileyAuthor.com.

(Mis)interpreting God’s Will

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(Mis)interpreting God’s Will

 

About eight months ago, my husband was laid off. Thankfully, he was given a three-month severance, so we were not immediately strained. However, I’m a stay-at-home-mom with our four daughters, and the reality of not having an income felt overwhelming and stressful. Even if we don’t worship money and make it our priority, we still need it to pay the bills.

Before he was let go, my husband had started really struggling with his job, and had actually already started looking for work elsewhere. This layoff, we thought, was a beautiful gift from God to allow him to spend more time applying and interviewing to find the right position for him. We both felt confident that he would secure a new position before the severance expired.

As the first three months drew to a close, with not a single job offer despite more than fifty applications submitted and countless interviews, our hearts started to listen for God’s will taking us in a different direction. Maybe, I suggested one day, we could look into long-term missionary work. My husband, surprisingly, didn’t disagree.

I began researching companies and found one that seemed to be the right fit. We submitted an application, completed the initial interview, and began the official discernment process. We thought we had figured out the meaning of his job loss. God wanted to clear the path so we could become full-time missionaries.

It didn’t take long for us to realize that four kids who would be between 13 and 9 would not thrive in that environment. At this point, I fell into despair. If my husband didn’t lose his job to find a better one, and not so we could become missionaries, what was the meaning of it all? Why, God? We felt entirely ready to do His will, but for the life of us, we just couldn’t figure that out.

Then, with his newfound free time, my husband agreed to help support me in the endeavor of self-publishing my first children’s chapter book. The process has been arduous. As it turns out, the writing is actually a very small portion of publishing. But with my husband’s encouragement, accountability, support, and technical know-how, I am now a published author with more books for the series in the pipeline. My book is a special piece of my heart that I’ve written for my children, and I know that God has willed it into existence.

A year ago, being a published author was a dream I hoped might happen in three to five years―if ever. Today, I’m autographing books for kids across the county. Yet this book won’t pay the bills (they rarely do), and I honestly don’t know what the future holds for us. For today, I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. I don’t know what doors will close and what windows will fly open. All I know is that God will take care of us.

 

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Sometimes I get so caught up in understanding the meaning of everything and wanting to know the future, that I forget that God is the present. When He spoke to Moses, He said “I AM” (cf. Exodus 3:14). He didn’t say, “I WAS.” He didn’t say, “I WILL BE.” God is always and forever the present tense. Today, we have a roof over our heads, food in the pantry, and more to rejoice over than there are minutes in the day. Today, I will write as I am commanded, and do whatever He tells me. And if I can do that again tomorrow and the day after, He will continue to provide.

I’m sure I’m not done misinterpreting God’s Will in my life. Each time, I pray that I will recognize my folly and recenter myself in His present will. I pray I continue doing today what is asked of me, and trusting that even though I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, I have nothing to fear.

 

Copyright 2022 Maria Riley
Images:Uoaei1, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons; Eekim, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Plaster and Soul

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Plaster and Soul

It’s October 1st, and the feast day of our dear St. Therese of Lisieux is upon us. As I sat down to compose my small contribution to the illustrious works that have already been written about her, I felt confident that I could write the obligatory words, but could I find a perspective that had not been written? I searched my heart for a glimmer of inspiration.

There was, of course her famous “Little Way.” But many writers more talented than I had plumbed those depths. I thought about her childhood and her short time here on earth—where she served our Lord as a Carmelite nun. But of course, those biographies had been written as well, not to mention her own autobiography, The Story of a Soul.

I needed something else; something that belonged to me; something that was as yet … unwritten. And suddenly, I recalled a story about St. Therese that was actually covered by our local Catholic newspaper; but the entire story has never been fully explored … until now.

I was the RCIA Director for our Parish for several years. In that capacity, I liked to prepare for my incoming classes with different or unique Catholic artifacts; hence, I found myself in the basement of our church one hazy August morning, hunting for antique rosaries or old paintings.

I was in luck; there were several usable copies of St. Augustine’s City of God, hidden between some dusty candlesticks, and old chunks of marble. In fact, I discovered several pieces of fragmented marble in the recesses of the basement. Intrigued, I began to wander through the crypt-like room searching for … what? I wasn’t sure, but I had the peculiar feeling that I was searching for something important.

I finally found my way to the back of the basement. It was quite dark there, so I decided to retrace my steps, when my forward movement was suddenly arrested. Startled, I stopped and stared at the offending object. At first, I thought it was a person, but it was perfectly motionless. I smiled to myself. I had discovered a life-sized statue.

Intrigued, I reached up and tried to make out the features of the statue. It was badly damaged. Huge portions of plaster were missing, and the face and clothing had long since faded. Still, I had an intense desire to know who this was. I maneuvered the front of the statue toward a faint beam of light, to see if I could identify the owner. Recognition dawned, and I smiled to myself. I had unearthed an image of St. Therese. I don’t think I could have identified her if I hadn’t noticed the plaster roses she was holding.

I felt a touch of melancholy as I wondered about the events that had brought her to this uninspired resting place. I instinctively knelt before the statue and impulsively whispered: “St. Therese, I need to get you out of here!” Then I offered a small prayer for my future RCIA class.

I left the basement in deep thought, and nearly collided with Judy (an RCIA team member) who had come to look for me. We both laughed at the minor infraction, before I quickly divulged my discovery.  “If only I knew someone who restores statues!” I cried. But Judy seemed suddenly energized.

“I know someone who could probably do it,” she grinned. “It’s my son, Michael; he’s a gifted artist. Only … I should probably tell you that he’s not Catholic, although we have been praying for his conversion.”

Undaunted by this fact, I quickly made arrangements with Judy to contact her son. Michael agreed to the restoration project without reservation, and everyone sensed a touch of the miraculous in the atmosphere.

One year later, we re-dedicated—the now—pristine statue of St. Therese on her feast day, October 1st.

Michael entered the Catholic Church that same year.

He told me that he had gradually developed a devotion to St. Therese as he worked with her day after day in his studio, repairing the sacred image.

The broken and faded image of St. Therese had been perfectly restored; but the true restoration had taken place in the soul of a young artist—who had willingly taken on an unknown, only to be overcome with the truth and beauty of the Catholic Church.

Of course, all of us realized that it was St. Therese herself, who quietly interceded for Michael as he worked with her, day after day. There were no voices from heaven, or angelic visitations; it was simply the gracious supplications of a little nun—as she prayed for her own personal artist—before the Throne of Grace and Mercy.

St. Therese, pray for us, too!

Copyright 2022 by Sarah Torbeck

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