The Power of a Smile

March 8, 2024/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Devotionals, Faith, Family Life, Hope, Spiritual Life/by Maria Riley

The Power of a Smile

When my kiddos were young, the local YMCA was a saving grace. My four daughters, ages four and under, loved playing in the childcare area almost as much as I loved a chance to pee uninterrupted. My mom-friends also belonged to the Y, so it was as much a playdate for me as it was for the kids.

At the YMCA, I learned that I do actually enjoy working out when it’s not a mandatory school class. I took various group classes that met my social needs and allowed me to try new exercises with no pressure or obligation. I remember especially fondly that if it weren’t for the YMCA, I may not have showered at all when my husband traveled for work. My twins are cute, but I couldn’t take my eyes off them for a minute!

Naturally, when I learned that my husband’s job was moving us to a new state, one of the first things I searched for was if our new town had a YMCA. To my great relief, it did. I’m fairly sure the girls and I trekked over there to become members on our second day there.

But everything was wrong with the new Y. My kids were scared of the new childcare area because they didn’t know the staff yet. They didn’t offer my favorite exercise classes. The cardio room was separate from the weights room, and both felt cramped: the building was regularly crowded, and my preferred machines weren’t available; I had to sign up for a turn on the cardio equipment and could only do thirty minutes at a time.

The worst part was how unfriendly everyone was, from the staff to my fellow patrons. I didn’t know anyone, and no one talked to me. Aside from a quick greeting as I dropped off my kids in the childcare area, I wouldn’t speak to a single person. I distinctly remember feeling profoundly alone while surrounded by people. They just weren’t my people.

One day, while I moped around the YMCA, bemoaning how I didn’t have any friends or even get a friendly smile, I realized the fault was mine. I recognized that from the moment I put the car in park, I hung my head and only looked at the ground. It was no wonder no one ever smiled at me. I didn’t give a single person I passed the opportunity.

At that moment, something changed in me. I decided to not be the reason for my own misery. I decided to lift my head, look everyone I passed in the eye, and smile. The most amazing thing happened: people smiled back.

I felt less alone from that day forward, not because I immediately made friends (which, I’m sad to report, didn’t happen overnight) but because I was connecting with other human beings. God created us in His image and likeness, and He created us for relationships. We aren’t meant to go through this life alone.

I learned some valuable lessons from that experience, the most notable being that I am responsible for my behavior. I can’t begrudge the unfriendliness of others when I don’t make the effort myself; something as small and simple as a smile can make a huge difference.

When I walk around looking people in the eyes and smiling, my soul is transformed. Even if I’m struggling and my life isn’t as simple and easy as I’d like, when I smile, I allow the joy that Christ offers to penetrate into my heart. What’s more, my smile is returned more often than not with a smile from a stranger’s face, further filling my soul with happiness.

These days, I don’t have to think about it: I’m always smiling. I love looking at other people and greeting them warmly. Each person I pass is a fellow creation of God, and I am blessed to be in her or his company. My kids often comment on how friendly I am—I get a chance to remind them that every person we pass has dignity and worth, regardless of her or his outward appearance. In this small, simple way, I get to share Christ’s joy with others.

If you’re feeling down or isolated, the most powerful tool you have requires only a few muscles in your face. It’s guaranteed to make you feel better, and chances are, your joy will spill into the strangers you pass. All you have to do is smile.

©Maria Riley 2024

God’s Christmas Wish

December 15, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Family Life, Holidays, Hope/by Kimberly Novak

God’s Christmas Wish

Finding myself deep in the throes of holiday madness recently, a short phrase spoken by a house guest caused me to stop and think about where my focus is this Christmas Season.

“We want as much as we can get. All dogs want are the crumbs.”

Among the busyness that comes with the holidays are many suggestions for the gift-giving season. As a child, I recall giving my parents my gift wishes in not-so-subtle ways. I circled toys in catalogs and newspaper ads, as a blatant way of letting them know all I hoped for that Christmas. I have lovely memories of how my children voiced their wish lists, and I am enjoying how creativity is growing with each new generation.

Fixing our eyes on the birth of Christ becomes complicated when the commercialization of Christmas is all around us. Somewhere, at some point, there needs to be a balance. After all, God gave us the best Christmas gift ever, and doing the same for our families is good. Keeping our hearts aligned with God in the process is even better.

I never imagined such a profound statement coming from giving our dog apple pie crumbs. The truth in those words echoes in my heart days later. At this time of year especially, we do want as much as we can get, and if you think about it, the little dog considers the crumbs a full-course meal. I don’t think I will ever look at a piece of apple pie the same, and if my little dog plays her cards right, she may end up with a whole slice!

What would this look like if we flipped the circumstances just a little? Would crumbs be enough in everything we pray for or desire from God? If God’s will for our lives is not to receive the wish list in our minds but to receive only a portion, can we be as content as the dog receiving scraps? Taking it even one step further, let’s imagine that we are holding the meal, and God is patiently waiting for us to give Him a portion—how much are you willing to give God? Are you offering only crumbs or the entire piece?

A relationship with God requires opening your heart and giving God your time and energy. We put forth all of these things to the multitudes during the holidays. I never think twice about making time for shopping, baking cookies, and attending holiday gatherings. However, there are times when my prayer life suffers amidst the holiday madness. Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Christ, God’s one and only Son, given to us as a gift. It is a beautiful gift for you and me to offer our time, energy, and focus to the God who gave us life.

So how do we find that balance, the sweet spot where we can check off the holiday to-do list while staying true to our commitment to the intimacy of prayer? The obvious would be to put God first. This is easier said than done when our minds focus on everything else. Perhaps a written wish list between you and God might do the trick. Consider what God might wish for you, and then offer your requests prayerfully each day. Actions such as these will help to keep your heart and mind focused on involving God in the holiday preparations.

As you wrap presents and tie beautiful bows this holiday season, offer a prayer or two for God’s children who are happy and content with what little they have. Pray for the desire and grace to be satisfied with what God has given you, and perhaps drop a crumb or two to the little dog waiting at your side; God is right there with them.

Navigating through darkness to the Season of Light

December 13, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Devotionals, Faith, Holidays, Hope, Spiritual Life/by Mary McWilliams

Navigating through darkness to the Season of Light

My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.
—John 14:27

The Lord spoke these words to disciples before the crucifixion. By the end of the discourse, it would be understandable that their anxiety was rising. He concluded: “I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 17:33). He knew what the earthly powers planned for them as his followers, and they needed to be reminded that no matter what the world dished out, his was not simply a better way, but the best way. He also sent this message before his birth. In reflecting upon the readings throughout Advent, we can quell the turbulent stirrings rousted during the holidays.

Living in the world is a hard contact sport, and only a fool would play a rough game without proper conditioning and back-up. Yet so many go through life without the support that faith gives. Our society has record numbers of people living with anxiety and depression, and plummeting numbers in church attendance and religious affiliation. The culture is identified by the disturbingly accepted phrase, “post-Christian society.”

Even believers can be shadowed by the unrest that balloons during the Advent and Christmas seasons. The constant pressure to spend, eat, socialize, and “be of good cheer” causes angst for many, even those who enjoy the hustle and bustle. The Devil, that slobbering, panting mongrel of darkness, dispatches four of his best henchmen to squeeze the vulnerable. These days, that applies to most of us. Anxiety, Panic, Fear, and Depression are among his supreme lieutenants because they are excellent collaborators of opportunism. He recruits limitless holiday help to brew botheration through the urgent and endless “best sale of the year” deals, the “get it or forget it” Christmas lists, and social engagements (or lack thereof).

For others, the season stirs up grief over deep loss. The reasons for the unease outnumber the people experiencing them. The pace of keeping up with the season triggers everything from dread to disappointment to despondency. It’s enough to make Santa’s elves want the holiday season to be done. How sad to want such a beloved and beautiful time—Advent and Christmas—to be over with a big sigh of relief. For the beast of the underworld, it’s pure delight, like fresh, bloody meat.

Scripture is always the balm for sufferings of the world, but the readings this Advent—including those from morning and evening prayer and daily Mass—penetrate the fog that can become ever so dense. We began Advent with the command to “watch.” Listen also to the messages of the season. Perhaps commit to memory a passage to push out the anxiety whenever it begins to bubble. “I will listen for what God, the Lord has to say; surely he will speak of peace to his people and the faithful” (Psalm 85:9).

During Advent, we encounter the faceless and the nameless that Jesus healed, proving that God sees us all—no matter how invisible we may feel—and wants to make us whole. “Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, and many others. They placed them at his feet, and he cured them” (Matthew 15:30). Matthew recounts in 9:36: “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” He even healed those not physically present as we hear the centurion’s pleas for his suffering, paralyzed servant (cf. Matthew 8:5-13).

We meet people this month who, with great trials, embraced the rays of the Son. December 13 is the feast of the fourth century martyr, St. Lucy, whose name means light. She chose a hideous torture that blinded her because she would not betray her Savior. Isaiah 40:29 fortifies us: “He gives power to the faint, abundant strength to the weak.” The following day, December 14, we remember St. John of the Cross who, more than five centuries later, continues to enlighten with his Dark Night of the Soul.

The Advent readings are a treasury of fortitude to battle distress: “… you shall no longer weep; He will be most gracious to you when you cry out; as soon as he hears, he will answer you” (Isaiah 30:19). And others: Psalm 121:5, 7-8; Isaiah 25:8; Wisdom 18:14-16; Song of Songs 2:10-11 to name a few. Throughout Advent, God sends us messages of hope and encouragement. We are assured in Philippians 4:6-7: “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Peace be with you.

Feature Image by Rúben Gál from Pixabay
Image by Ri Butov from Pixabay

Will You Pray for Me?

October 6, 2023/4 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Hope, Inspirational, Prayer/by Ben Bongers

**Will You Pray for Me?**

To be one of the best at what you do is very good. No . . . check that . . . it is GREAT! And it can be devastating when that’s taken from you.

Once, there was a performer who worked on the world stage. He sang and acted in some of the best theaters on the globe. Europe, the Americas, China . . . he would jet from city to city and country to country.

One day, at a dental visit, he found out he had life-threatening cancer. He and his family’s lives were about to change. First, his career was over; the treatment he would go through would be drastic. He would have a large part of an organ removed and reconstructive surgery over 12 hours. Then, he would undergo very large doses of chemo and over a month’s worth of daily pin-point radiation. As his oncologist put it, “We are going to take you to the brink of death—actually, just past—to kill the cancer, then help you to come back. But I’m not going to lie: you’re going to go through hell. It’ll be up to you and God to come out the other side.”

How would you react to a situation like this?

Well, he stopped everything and called friends, family, and organizations he was in—giving them the news. Then, he did something that had the greatest effect. He asked for prayers. He knew that he wouldn’t have the strength, endurance, or ability to make it through without.

The surgery happened, the chemo happened, and the radiation began. There were many, many hiccups along the way. A feeding tube became dislodged; a trach-tube reinsert was botched, causing him to mentally pray as he was fading away to unconsciousness, “Into Your hands, I commend my spirit.”

He was burnt beyond belief. He was sleeping 18 hours a day, and . . . he was ready to give up. With six excruciating days of radiation to go, he mentally said, “That’s it. I’m done. Lord, I can’t pray for myself anymore. I’ll pray for others, but I’m done. Do with me what you want.”

That’s when it happened. As soon as his heart and mind fully realized what he’d prayed, all the weight was lifted. He had an actual feeling of being “lifted.” To many people, the phrase “lifted in prayer” is just an old cliché. But to him, it was very real, physical, visceral. He could feel the prayers from friends, family, parishes, abbeys, monasteries, and convents from around the world—literally lifting him up! He still felt every open sore, every burn mark, every blister. But he was now able to bear it all—with a smile.

As his case progressed, doctors—not two or three but five—all declared they had never seen anything like his progress. They declared (in his file), “something supernatural . . . it’s a miracle.” It all came down to giving over to prayer. Not just any prayer but prayer from others, specifically intercessory prayer.

Fast forward: Today is day 1497 since I had over ½ of my tongue removed and a part of my wrist put in its place. In the four years and one month since my surgery, I have sung the Ave Maria in the Grotto at Lourdes, France, twice. I’ve had three award-winning books published by a great publishing house, and I’ve restarted my path in the Permanent Diaconate in the Kansas City–St. Joseph Diocese.

I now KNOW, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the effects of prayer … are real.

A Move Yet Still Home

September 8, 2023/1 Comment/in Faith, Family Life, Hope, My Road Goes Ever On, Purification, Spiritual Life/by Maria Riley

A Move Yet Still Home

Last spring, I moved with my family to Kansas, which is my ninth lifetime state (I also studied abroad and lived in London for four months, so if you count that, I’m in the double digits). Only recently did I begin to appreciate the blessing that being Catholic truly is.

Like most cradle Catholics, I’ve always had God in my life. Growing up, weekly Mass and CCD were omnipresent. As we’ve grown our own family, those same traditions have persisted. Regardless which state or city we moved to, a Catholic parish and the True Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist was always available.

Prior to this move, we lived in Florida, and our parish there was something special. Not only were we close enough to walk or bike ride to Mass, but that parish felt alive in a special way. The list of ministries was lengthy, and there were always events or service projects we could be a part of. I volunteered with faith formation, participated in the moms’ ministry, Walking with Purpose, and Bible study. There were monthly socials after a daily Mass, quarterly family events after the Youth and Family Mass (where kids served as ushers and lectors), and no shortage of friendly conversations in the parking lot. To say we loved this family-friendly parish would be an understatement.

When the news came that we were moving to Kansas for my husband’s new job, my heart sank knowing we had to leave our parish. It really had become a second home for us. I knew we wouldn’t find a parish like that in Kansas. I had lived in seven other states in my life, and that parish is unique.

My husband and I traveled to Kansas for a weekend to get to know the area and do some house hunting, and we visited the local Catholic Church for Sunday Mass. My heart was hardened before I walked into the sanctuary. I simply knew it wouldn’t be as good as our old parish.

I looked around and proceeded to judge everything. The tabernacle wasn’t prominent enough. The crucifix was too small. The choir performed instead of inviting us to participate. The priest was old and unenthusiastic. Everything I saw I disliked, and I wanted to be back in Florida.

Then the homily began. I don’t remember the readings for that Sunday, nor do I remember the beginning of the homily. What I do know is that God spoke directly to me that day through his faithful servant’s words.

He reminded us that we don’t come to Mass every week because of the priest or the social time. We come because Jesus meets us here, body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist. No matter which church we are in, he comes to us there.

Bam. My hardened heart softened. I was struck, and instantly humbled at my own arrogance and pride. Tears flowed down my face as I really let Jesus into my heart. Jesus reminded me that I’m there for him. Not the priest, not the building, and not the socialization. It doesn’t matter which parish I belong to, because Jesus is there for me, and I come to meet him. That’s all that matters.

I looked back on all the states and all the parishes and finally fully appreciated the gift I have in the Catholic Church. While I do still miss my old friends and the community of the parish in Florida, my heart remains grateful for his presence that I’m able to receive, regardless of where I live.

Maria Riley 2023

The Power of a Heartfelt Prayer

August 18, 2023/0 Comments/in Faith, Hope, Inspirational, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Kimberly Novak

The Power of a Heartfelt Prayer

As a spiritual director, I know the power a prayer can harness. All types of prayer, ranging from prayers of the heart, spontaneous prayers, and those prayed over a group, when prayed with a heart of faith, pack the same punch.

Shortly after becoming a spiritual director, a woman diagnosed with a terminal illness reached out for assistance. At the time, she wanted to rekindle her walk with God and face the imminent future with a heart of faith. During the looming diagnosis, we talked about her relationship with God through the years and how important it was at this particular time. Our sessions were sometimes difficult for both of us, especially as the diagnosis timeframe was ticking away. When we first met, I wondered why God had given me such a difficult assignment so quickly after graduation. I didn’t feel confident enough in what I was doing. However, I was more than willing to allow the Spirit to take over all of my senses in the hopes of being guided. When the words became difficult, we prayed silently in the company of one another. On days when panic, fear, and anger were present, we went against one of the rules of how a spiritual director should behave, and allowed the occasional hug to comfort us both.

In preparation for one of our sessions, I began to write a prayer specifically for this woman. I intended to share it with some prayer warriors and give a copy to the woman so she could share it with friends, family, and those at church. To write this prayer, I researched other prayers that contained scripture for healing and miracles. Once I had a handful of ideas, I placed them all together and moved them around until I felt like I had the perfect structure. On the first read-through, the prayer felt right. It flowed gently and got right to the point.

I wanted to help this woman in any way I could, and being a strong proponent that you can pray away anything in life, I was determined to do just that. After all, I had nothing to lose and the power of God’s love to gain.

Not long after I presented the prayer and began lifting the need daily to God, I received a note that her recent tests showed all evidence of the illness gone. I firmly believe that the power in this prayer offered in true faith “prayed away” the sickness. I offered gratitude to our Heavenly Physician and tucked the prayer into my bible for safekeeping.

Years passed before another situation surfaced, requiring powerful prayer for a friend’s spouse. I shared the prayer with the family and began praying daily. It was not two weeks before I received news that the fatal diagnosis was an error. Perhaps, aligned with God’s Will, we prayed it away.

In more recent months, a family member received news of an illness and without hesitation, I began the healing prayer.

As I reflected on these instances, I wondered why I was keeping this powerful prayer a secret all this time. I had offered it to those involved who needed the healing work of our Father, but past that, the prayer remained in my bible. Today, I know in my heart that the prayer was written with the leading of the Spirit, and I am called to share it with as many as I can.
I offer this healing prayer so you can enlist your prayer army and in the hopes of aligning with God’s Will, pray away the difficulties life sometimes dishes out. As you pray, replace N. with the name of the person for whom you are praying.

God’s word says the prayer of faith shall heal the sick. I come to you, God, in faith and ask that You heal N. from sickness. Jesus, I want Your word to penetrate the depths of N.’s heart. Thank you that Your word brings life and healing to N.’s whole body. Jesus, I ask that you open N. up today to Your blessings, healing, and miracles. Let all worries leave his/her heart. I know you are a God who cares, who loves N. deeply, and will never let him/her go. In Jesus’ name, I pray, Amen.

Fall into Pieces or Peace in a Storm?

August 4, 2023/0 Comments/in Devotionals, Elijah, Hope, Spiritual Life/by Ben Bongers

Fall into Pieces or Peace in a Storm?

When you face the storms of life, which do you cling to—pieces or peace? We’re all going to face adversity—life’s storms and earthquakes: illness, being “the other,” not fitting in… But how are you going to react? Fall to pieces? Or slide into peace?

Two stories come to mind.

Elijah was on the run. He’d wiped out all the false prophets of Jezebel, the queen of the land, and she was out for blood—his blood. Elijah realized he was doomed and ran for the desert. No one on earth could save him, so he laid down and prayed for death.

Fast forward.

Forty days later, Elijah was in a cave when God asked him, “What are you doing here? Go stand on the mountain [don’t hide in a cave] and watch me pass by.” Elijah saw all the worst things of life go by: wind, tornadoes, lightning, storms, earthquakes, fires. But God wasn’t in them. No. It wasn’t until Elijah heard the quiet, peace-filled, almost inner whisper and focused on it, that he realized he was in the presence of God.

Jump to the New Testament and Jesus walking on water. Jesus had faced a very long day. He had preached to thousands, fed them with only five loaves and two fish, healed them, expelled demons, and was pooped by the end of it! He sent his followers across the water to the next port of call while he recharged his batteries by praying alone. The disciples, like Elijah, grumpily faced great winds, storms, and lightning. Then, they saw Jesus, as if a ghost, walking perfectly calm on the water toward them, saying, “Don’t be afraid.”

Peter, pure reactionist, challenges Jesus and asks to join Him. Jesus calmly says, “Come.” Peter, now focused on Jesus, does exactly that. He hops out of the boat, not thinking, just reacting to Jesus’s call, and begins to walk on the water. When Peter’s focus on Jesus wanes, the storm, the lightning, the wind, and the inconceivable fact that he was walking on water overtake Peter, and he begins to sink back into his perceived reality, the crashing waves of unimportant things.

These stories are perfect for you and me today! What wind, storms, lightning, earthquakes, and fires do we face every day? Deadlines, family drama, self-made situations that eat our brains and spirits? People who “have it in for us.” Knowing “I should do this and that, but I just don’t feel like it.” Noticing a lump, discoloration on your skin, or little aches and pains you didn’t have before. These are the things we allow to take away our focus on what’s important. Listening to God’s whisper, listening to Jesus’s “Come.”

What did Elijah and Jesus do? They found time alone. They took time to pray, be quiet, and be alone with God. What did God do? He replied, “Be not afraid. I’m here. I got you. Now get outta the boat, focus on me… and walk on water!”

So, what will you choose? To fall to pieces or to find peace? The choice is yours.

Just A Little Bit

July 14, 2023/4 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Devotionals, Family Life, Hope, Inspirational, Pilgrimage/by Maria Riley

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

Candy as Compassion

March 3, 2023/1 Comment/in Faith, Hope, Inspirational, Love, Mercy/by Ben Bongers

Candy as Compassion

Next Sunday, the Third Sunday of Lent, we see how God showed compassion on His people in the desert, giving them water from the rock, and the Samaritan woman giving Jesus a drink. So how do we know compassion? What does it look like? Sound like? Do we know when we see or show it?

I visited a person, while making my Diaconate rounds, on hospice in their early 40’s. They would ask for the same item of every doctor, nurse, and certified nursing assistant (CNA)—a bag of the Chewable Sweet Tarts from the candy machine down the hall.

As the person faded in and out, they told me they had two beautiful children who were unable to make the trip to say “goodbye.” Their condition was taking hold. Soon they wouldn’t wake again. The person had led a rough life. They’d stolen, been hooked on drugs, cheated, lied, and had prominent tattoos of “taking lives.”

I didn’t judge and asked, “What would make you happy before you leave this world?”

They smiled and said, “Just one thing, a bag of those Chewable Sweet Tarts.”

I had to chuckle. “What’s so special about a bag of candy?”

The person smiled, a tear leaking from their eye. They said, “I used to take my kids around the neighborhood for Halloween. We had the best time! We’d talk as we walked around. I found out I had really smart, funny, and good kids.” The person sat with the memory, then said, “After we got home, we’d dump all the candy onto the kitchen table and take a piece, share it, and judge it with a rating. ‘This one’s an 8.6, or 9.2, or 4.1!’ We’d have the best time.”

The person looked over at me and said, “The Chewable Sweet Tarts… we never had those. Somehow having them will bring me back to the one good time—the one good thing I had in my life—my kids.”

After going to the restroom, I saw the candy machine and came back to the room, gently laying the bag of Chewable Sweet Tarts on the bed table. The person looked up at me. Big tears and no ability to speak. I came to the bedside, and they clung to me for a solid five minutes—bawling and asking over and over, “Why? Why? Why would you show me any compassion? Why would you do this for me?”

We shared the candy. As the person across from me chewed slowly, smiling the entire time, I finally answered their question. “Because you’re worthy of compassion. We all are.”

We never know what another person needs. The nurses, doctors, and hospital staff all had been in that room. They saw the patient—but missed the person.

Look around you. Who are the persons around you? Not customers, not clients, not patients—persons. Remember, compassion is a sure sign that the Holy Spirit is alive in us—and is helping us see that person crossing our paths every day.

A Catholic Man Considers Grief and Bereavement

February 7, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Hope/by Larry Peterson

A Catholic Man Considers Grief and Bereavement

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)

We say many “comforting” things to people in mourning. Still, I have discovered that for those who are in a mournful state, comforting them sometimes is not possible. Many have what is akin to a deep, open wound that is extremely painful. For many, the healing and scarring process takes a long time. The scar formed is always there to remind us of what was.

We firmly believe, and hence we hope that, just as Christ is truly risen from the dead and lives forever, so after death the righteous will live forever with the risen Christ and he will raise them up on the last day. Our resurrection, like his own, will be the work of the Most Holy Trinity. (Catechism of the Catholic Church 989)

Oh yes, we know all these things. We indeed say that we believe these things. Every Sunday, we profess our faith out loud and in public, saying, “and [He] rose again on the third day.”

As Catholic Christians, we have been comforted by our faith during our lives. The belief that death is only a transition to a world filled with perfect happiness is instilled in us. We shall be sharing our heavenly world with Jesus, the Blessed Mother, angels, saints, and loved ones gone before us. There will be no more pain and suffering, no illness, and nothing negative. Shouldn’t we be jumping up and down with joy? Unfortunately, “tomorrow” now has a permanent hole in it, and we have no idea how to fill it.

Victims of Adam and Eve’s original sin

We are human beings after all. We are also victims of Adam and Eve’s original sin. This is the sin that brought us illness and death. This is the reason for our grief. This is the reason for our pain and suffering. This is the reason for bereavement, which means “deprivation” or to have “suffered a loss.”

“Big Boys don’t cry”

Having these feelings is normal. As a man, I have tried to stifle any outward display of emotion in public. (That is how we were raised—”big boys don’t cry.” Well, real men do.) At home, who cares? No one is there to see my crumblings. After my wife’s funeral a few years ago, I did fail miserably at Walmart. Several days after her funeral, I had gone there to get a few things. I noticed that there were no customers in the cell-phone section I needed a memory chip for my phone so I asked the clerk where they were. He pointed them out and I grabbed a new chip and handed it to him.

He offered to put it in the phone and transfer my photos into it. He opened the picture file and there is my wife smiling at me. I lost it and morphed into a babbling spectacle at, of all places, Walmart. A nice little crowd gathered for my impromptu performance but kept their distance. Hey, I might have been a lunatic or an old terrorist … whatever. You get the picture (pun intended). I was told by the facilitator of a bereavement group that my reaction was perfectly normal. Maybe it was, but I sure was embarrassed.

We come face to face with a journey we all must take

The point is, as Catholic Christians, we all witness death during our lives. And we should remember that seeing death brings us face to face with a journey we all must make. Grief is an internal process, and everyone experiences it in their own unique way. We all know of the Resurrection and the reward of eternal life. However, it can be tough to deal with when you get hit with the personal impact of a loved one’s death and the grief that instantly explodes inside you.

What she did for all of us is indescribable

Time and prayer help heal those deep wounds. But days come and go and it does happen. We are mortal humans. We must feel the pain. Imagine how our Blessed Mother felt watching them torture and kill her Son. What she did for all of us is indescribable.

Belief in the resurrection of the dead has been an essential element of the Christian faith from its beginnings. “The confidence of Christians is the resurrection of the dead; believing this we live.” (CCC 991)

We should never forget this. Do not be afraid—the Eternal Now awaits us all. It will be a wondrous place indeed.