For I know the Plans I Have for You

February 28, 2023/4 Comments/in Faith, Family Life, Inspirational, Love, Marriage/by Sarah Torbeck

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.

Book Review: A new Catholic Chapter Book Series

November 18, 2022/0 Comments/in Adoption, Adventure, Book Review, Catholic Fiction, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Childrens' Books, Christian education of youth, Family Life, Fiction, fiction, Hope, Juvenile fiction, Reviews/by Kimberly Novak

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

November 11, 2022/2 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Family Life, Hope, The Writing Life/by Maria Riley

(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.

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.

Plaster and Soul

October 1, 2022/0 Comments/in Conversion Stories, Faith, Family Life, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Sarah Torbeck

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 1^st.

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!

Flammable

September 11, 2022/0 Comments/in Devotionals, Faith, Family Life, Poetry, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Paula Veloso Babadi

Flammable

Our words and actions matter to others. When the natives in Malta took care of Paul and companions, they had no idea of the recent hardships at sea or the blessings they would receive when the chief’s father and many others were cured of illness. Can we say we are as hospitable in our everyday dealings?

The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. Acts 28:2

In nature, the careless toss of a match or neglect of a dying campfire can wreak havoc and destruction. That same carelessness with words can cause just as much damage and inflame a person’s emotional state. Today, hurtful rhetoric is everywhere. How do we get past the politics, the hate, the fight mentality? We must start somewhere, one encounter at a time.

Some years ago, my husband had to undergo a procedure. He was afraid and in pain. When the nurse at the outpatient facility was brusque with his questions and seemingly impatient, he lost his cool and began raising his voice. He became angry and seemed inconsolable, until the head nurse appeared in the doorway and gently pulled him to the back kindly talking him out of his feverish pitch. I thought how understanding she was, how insightful to see beyond his ire to recognize the emotions behind the outburst.

I questioned my own responses on other occasions when confronted with irate people and decided then and there I would look beyond the harsh words and return them with gentleness. It’s not always an easy thing to do. Instead of returning the heat of the fire, I want to return a heart burning with the same love and kindness our Lord has for each of us.

My prayer for creation is that we strive to soothe and nurture this earth and each other – and if inevitable fires do ensue, may we focus on new growth arising from the ashes.

During the procedure, I penned my thoughts, and the following poem is the fruit of that encounter.

Flammable

Incendiary par with war-time evening news,
Coals heaped upon a head already burning-
Caution cries to censor words we choose
That set aflame the limbic system churning.
.
Kind response is water quenching fire –
A touch, a smile can cool the hottest ire.
In the end it’s all about the fear, the pain
That spoken words can soothe like water’s springs or
Aggravate like biting fire’s rain.
.
Partake of introspection if you dare
And count today times you’ve said
“I don’t care.”

Oxygen Mask of Spirituality

September 9, 2022/2 Comments/in Faith, Family Life, Inspirational/by Maria Riley

Oxygen Mask of Spirituality

If you’ve ever flown on an airplane with a child, you know that the flight attendants instruct that, in case of an emergency, you should secure your own oxygen mask before assisting your child. The reason is that you’re no good to your kids if you’re dead.

I’ve heard many people reference this example with respect to self-care. We need to make sure we are healthy, well rested, and cared for so that when we turn to help the other people in our lives, we have more to give them. The same concept applies to our spiritual lives.

Sharing the Gospel is the mission of every Christian. As parents, we are especially tasked to tell God’s story of salvation to our children. This is no small task, and the truth is, if we do not actively seek out our own flow of oxygen to grow in our own faith and relationship with God, we won’t be equipped to help anyone else, even our own kids.

Attending Sunday Mass is obviously the first step, but I believe that is not enough. We also need daily intentional spiritual development time. The trouble is, with our hectic lives and packed schedules, how can we make purposeful time for God?

The answer lies in using the tools and resources other faithful Catholics have created.

Explore what options your local parish has for study and fellowship. There may be a prayer ministry, a women’s group, or a Bible study. Instead of listening to music in the car, turn on a Catholic podcast (if you haven’t listened to it yet, The Bible in a Year podcast will change your life). There are Catholic Bible apps so you can read scripture on the go, and many apps that also have prayers, reflections, and daily readings, like the Hallow and Amen apps.

You can also sign up to get a daily inspirational email from Catholic organizations like Word on Fire or CatholicMom.com. Swap out your secular books with Catholic fiction, and trade Netflix for Formed, which is an online streaming service with shows, reflections, and even content for kids offered for free by the Augustine Institute.

Finally, one of the best and most fulfilling ways to grow closer to Jesus is through Christ-centered friendships. Jesus came to earth as a human so he could talk with and eat with us. When he commissioned his followers, he sent them out two by two (cf. Mark 6:7 & Luke 10:1). We aren’t meant to go it alone! The support and love of a Christ-loving friend can easily nurture and empower you to proclaim the message God has given you to share.

With so many options in this modern, tech-filled world, you will easily find daily ways to grow in your understanding and relationship with God, thereby further equipping you for your mission.

Now go and put on your own oxygen mask of spirituality, because you’re no good to anyone if you’re spiritually dead.

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.

Happy, Holy, and Hopeful Mother’s Day

May 7, 2022/0 Comments/in Faith, Family Life, Holidays/by Margaret Zacharias

The beautiful graphic about praying the rosary, attributed to Christ Our Life Catholic Conference, was reposted on their Facebook page by St. Mary’s Church in Humboldt, Iowa, on April 22, 2020.

It appeared there at a time when all of us were still reeling from the shocking onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. Humboldt, along with many other communities in western Iowa, had just been engulfed by overflowing rivers. The people of another St. Mary’s Church in Hamburg, Iowa, were also dealing with the aftermath of devastating spring floods. Unprecedented deluges had destroyed churches and homes in both communities at the same time.

Today, these parishes in the Diocese of Sioux City and the Diocese of Des Moines have been fully restored, with help from all four dioceses in Iowa. This is hope. This is faith and the kind of love St. Paul called charity. This is a fulfillment of God’s promises through Jesus.

“… For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance … And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will …” Romans 8:24-25, 27 (https://bible.usccb.org/bible/romans/8#53008027-t).

Our Blessed Mother Mary was chosen as a vessel to help bring these promises to fulfillment on earth.

When I was an RCIA candidate in 1988-1989, my own earthly mother was dying of cancer. My sponsor lent me a prayer book that contained a beautiful image of Mary’s Assumption into heaven. As I explored what devotion to Mary really means, I began to encounter the richness of our Catholic Church’s unbroken traditions. We honor Jesus’ mother as our loving and prayerful intercessor with God’s Son. He gave her to us, from the cross, to share.

I was raised in a reverent Protestant home, but I now believe that the stripping of Mary’s feminine grace from the liturgical cycles of Christian worship was one of the greatest spiritual errors of the Reformation. In RCIA, I learned that prayers for Mary’s assistance are optional devotions. Yet, they have always been a recognized and approved Catholic practice.

I’ve been blessed with opportunities to walk my own feet on the sacred ground of several Catholic shrines in the United States, South America, and Europe. I look forward to sharing with you in future CWG Blog posts a few of my adventures, challenges, and lessons learned on those pilgrimages.

In this blessed month of May, children around the world crown Mary as Queen of Heaven and Earth. I hope my reflections offered here this month might help us all to renew our dedication to the power of the Holy Rosary. No matter what we may be facing, we are wrapped in our mother’s mantle, and we are safe in the care of her Immaculate Heart.

Ave Maria.

Allow No Regrets into your World on Father’s Day

July 2, 2019/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Family Life/by Larry Peterson

No matter the past, tell him you love him and hug him tight. You do not always get a second chance.

By Larry Peterson

My dad died suddenly during Christmas season of 1965. Yes, a long time ago: December 30, to be exact. Due to that, I have carried a regret inside me for my entire life. I still want a do-over, but it can never happen. Sometimes you just do not get a second chance. And then you live with “if only.” I have been doing that “if only” thing for a long time.

Our mom had passed on a few years earlier. She had just turned forty when leukemia killed her. Dad was crushed and began drinking, It took a few years, but his body rebelled, and he had an acute attack of pancreatitis.

I was the oldest of the five kids and, at the age of twenty, thought I was a lot smarter than I was. I’d had to put college on hold and had been working in construction since high school. We needed the money. I got home from work about six o’clock to find out he had been taken to the hospital that morning.

My sister, Carol, who was home with our younger brothers during Christmas break, had been there. She and a neighbor had taken him. When I walked into our apartment, Johnny, who was the youngest at six, started crying and blurted out, “When is Daddy coming home?” I told them all to take care of each other, and I would be back very soon.

My father was on the third floor in room 317. I was stunned at what I saw. He had a tube coming from his nose that went down into a large bottle on the floor. Brownish-red gunk was draining from inside of him into that bottle. It was disgusting. My gag reflex kicked in. I could not walk over to the bed.

A doctor came up behind me and introduced himself. He was taking care of dad, and he gave me a quick rundown. I was hardly listening. He knew I was nervous, so he said, “Walk in with me.”

I did, and I have no idea what I said to my dad. The doctor began feeling Dad’s belly and looking at his eyes. My father had sky blue eyes, and they were fixed hard on his oldest child. He must have been wondering why his son was standing about five feet away from the bed. I could not speak because I was trying to be grown-up and not throw up.

The doctor left, and some words of twenty-year-old wisdom babbled form my lips about stopping drinking and eating better. He never responded but just kept looking at me. He was scared, and I did not see that. I said, “Okay, Dad, I gotta go. I’ll be back tomorrow.” I had to get out of there.

Walking down Arthur Avenue to the bus stop I turned and looked up at his window. I began to cry. I realized I had never hugged him or said “I love you” or anything. I had just left. He was supposed to be home in a day or two; it would be okay. I could have gone back, but I did not. He died at 3 a.m, scared and alone. Why? Because I was afraid of being embarrassed and throwing up.

There it is. Therein lies my regret: never having said, “I love you” one last time and leaving my own father to die scared and alone in a strange place with strange people. Is that pathetic or what? He had just celebrated his 53^rd birthday.

Father’s Day has just passed, and I have some advice to all of you who still have your fathers living. Forget the past; make sure you tell them you love them. If nearby, make sure you hug them. If far away, make sure you call them: no texting and no emailing. The day will come when you have no more second chances. You do not want to live with an “if only.”

Yes — there is a story about the five of us “orphans”: The Priest and the Peaches.