Inspirational – Page 7 – Catholic Writers Guild

Being able to celebrate new life while grieving death: the Mass made it happen

May 1, 2018/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

In our Catholic world, March 25 is the feast of the Annunciation. Yes, this is the day the Holy Spirit came to an innocent, pure teenager in Nazareth and announced to her that God wanted her to be the Mother of the Messiah. Mary said, “Yes.” It was a day to celebrate a New Beginning. It was a day to celebrate New Life.

On March 25, two millennia later, at 2 a.m., my wife, Marty, in a comatose state, was wheeled into the Hospice Center on a gurney. They placed her unresponsive body on a bed, gently washed her face, brushed her hair, and pulled the blanket up, tucking it under her chin ever so nicely. Her death watch was underway. For me, celebrating New Life was completely evading me.

Marty died at 6 a.m. on March 27. The first anniversary of her passing fell on Tuesday of Holy Week. There was a Mass offered for her that morning. There is a distinct irony to it all. My first wife, Loretta, who had died in 2003, had passed on April 4. There was a Mass offered for her that morning. Smack dab in the middle of these two Masses was Easter Sunday, which fell on April 1 this year. Death — Risen Life — Death.

Well, you know, sometimes messages and signs from above are “in our face,” but our human side blinds us to them. Especially when a person is plugged into the part of themselves that feels grief and sadness and loneliness. When you are in that mode, there does not seem to be much to cheer about. That has been part of my roller-coaster ride for almost a year. Up and down, up and down, up and down.

My mom died many years ago. February 18 was the anniversary of her death, and the 8 a.m. Sunday Mass was being offered for her. I did not expect anyone from my family to be there. I had planned to bring up the gifts with someone from church. I had no idea who that might be. Enter my oldest son, Larry Jr.

Junior was married the day before. His bride was a woman from Kenya, a beautiful person and the most unlikely daughter-in-law I ever expected. Her brother was the Catholic priest who officiated at the Nuptial Mass. It was a magnificent wedding, but it was not until the next morning that I knew how Jesus and Our Lady and all of those people we pray to and lean on were actually there.

That is also when I learned how all that death surrounding me was proof of New Life. It was not a contradiction; it was not a dark joke; it was a validation of the faith I have embraced, and we all share.

My son, who rarely attends Mass at my parish, texted me at 7 a.m. His message was simple, “Will be at Mass this morning. See you there.” They had no idea it was for my mother. Junior had never seen his grandma, as she had died nine years before he was born. Their attendance at that Mass was spontaneous and unplanned.

I stood in the back of the church and watched as they brought up the gifts. I have very little memory of my mother, who had just turned 40 when she died. But at that moment I knew that she was giving me a message. I could feel it. It was real.

She was standing there, next to the priest, as her grandson and his new wife handed the gifts to him. She was smiling, and then, I am pretty sure about this, I think she gave me a little wave. Maybe not — my tear-filled eyes were blurring my vision, but everything was crystal clear behind them. In God’s world, New Life and New Beginnings break the bonds of grief, sadness, and death.

The prayer that an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion says before giving Holy Communion to someone is,

“We come to know and believe that God is Love, and he who abides in Love abides in God and God in them.”

This Easter, Marty, and Loretta, on the anniversary of their deaths, will each be on one side of the Risen Christ. They both had received the last rites of the Catholic Church. The faith we love tells us that they abide in Love, that God is Love and they abide with Him. Their deaths have brought them to New Life. I know it is true. Even my mother told me it is true, and she will be with them.

St. John Berchmans, a Remarkable Role Model for our Youth and Patron Saint of Altar Servers

March 6, 2018/1 Comment/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

This is about a young man who became a saint. He did not found any religious orders or have any miracles attributed to him. He did not commit ant great acts of heroism or adhere to a life of poverty. Rather, John Berchmans became a saint by being kind, courteous, and incredibly loyal to the faith.

John was born on March 13, 1599, in a town called Diest, located in the northeast part of Belgium. His father was shoemaker. John, one of five children, became an altar boy at the age of seven. His parish priest, Father Emmerick, noticed John’s genuine piety and even commented to others that the Lord would work wonders in the boy’s soul.

When John was nine, his mother took ill; he spent hours at her side doing his best to comfort and care for her. She passed on when he was about thirteen, and Father Emmerick allowed John to move in with him and some other boys he had living there.

He became fast friends with the others at the priest’s home and never failed to take on the most menial of tasks and complete them to the best of his ability. He was always kind and never would stray from doing what his conscience told him was right. His kindness and intelligence were a great example to the other students, and the young man proved to be a profound influence on them.

John then read the biography of St. Aloysius Gonzaga and decided he wanted to be a Jesuit. At the age of 17, he was able to enroll as a Jesuit novitiate at the Jesuit College at Malines, Belgium. He worked hard at his studies and, inspired by the life of St. Aloysius, had developed a desire to teach all the multi-lingual migrants that were in Europe. In 1618 he was sent to Rome for more education.

John Berchmans was very poor. His journey to Rome was not easy. He had to walk to Rome, a distance of 300 “leagues” (about 900 miles). Carrying all his worldly goods in a sack slung across his back, he made it to Rome to begin his studies. How long the journey took is unknown.

In addition to studying rhetoric and philosophy, John managed to study different languages with his ultimate goal being to become a missionary in China. In his third year at the Roman College, John was selected to take part in a philosophy debate run by the Dominicans at the Greek College. John was brilliant in his arguments and carried the day. However, on the way home, he became very ill.

John Berchmans’ illness turned into a quick downward spiral. He seemed to have a cold, which turned into other unknown maladies, and he died within a week of becoming ill. Today, it is believed that dysentery caused his death. The young man was only twenty-two years old, and had not lived long enough to be ordained.

John Berchmans was known for his extreme piety and for being diligent in all matters, even those involving the most trivial of tasks. When he died he was holding onto his rosary, a crucifix and the Rule of his order. As he was dying, he said, “These are my three treasures; with these, I shall gladly die.“

Many miracles were attributed to John’s intercession after his death and, as a result, the famous “altar boy” developed a huge following, especially in Belgium. In fact, over 24,000 portraits of him were given out within a few years of his death. He is known for his devotion the Blessed Sacrament and to Our Lady, to whom he composed a Chaplet in honor of the Immaculate Conception.

John Berchmans died on August 13, 1621. He was canonized a saint on January 15, 1888. He is the patron saint of altar servers and students. He is also a true role model for all youth of today.

St. John Berchmans, please pray for us all.

Greeting the New Year—the Catholic Way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HAPPY NEW YEAR, 2018 –“No Fear”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loving and Consoling Jesus through His Living Body the Church

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

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

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

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

Bringing Our Drums

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

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

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

St. Margaret of Scotland–This Remarkable, Pious Woman is Patroness to Mothers, Large Families, Widows and Deceased Children

December 5, 2017/5 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

In the year 1066, a displaced English princess, named Margaret, sought refuge in Scotland. Her father had been overthrown by the Danes and before she was born had gone into exile. While still very young, Margaret returned to England to live in the court of her great-uncle, Edward the Confessor.

A weak leader, Edward could not protect his kingdom. Margaret’s mother, Agatha, took Margaret and her other two children, Edgar and Cristina, and fled north to escape the invading Norman armies. It was not long after that the Normans conquered England and overthrew Edward. He was replaced by William of Normandy, AKA William the Conqueror.

Tradition has it that Agatha decided to leave northern England and travel back to the continent. However, a raging storm drove their ship north to Scotland, where they landed at a spot which is today called St. Margaret’s Hope. Before long they all arrived at the palace of King Malcolm.

Margaret, about eighteen years of age at the time, soon found herself in the court of Malcolm III of Scotland (also known as Malcolm the Canmore, meaning “Great Chief”). Malcolm III was already a widower with two sons. (And yes, this is the Malcolm in Shakespeare’s Macbeth.)

Margaret was not only naturally sweet and charming, she was also a pious and devout Catholic. King Malcolm fell completely in love with her and they were married in Dunfermline, Scotland in 1070. One of the first things Margaret began to do was to read the Bible to her new husband. It is said the daily readings and stories she read to her husband helped “civilize” the king, setting in place the conditions for the growth of the Catholic faith in Scotland.

Margaret initiated religious reforms, striving to make Church practices conform to those of Rome. She followed the advice of the future Archbishop of Canterbury, Lanfranc, and became known as an exemplar of the “just ruler” which was her husband and children. Their youngest son, David, grew up to be considered a “holy ruler.”

Margaret became deeply involved in charitable works and actually served orphans and the poor every day before she herself ate. She even washed the feet of the poor in imitation of Jesus. At midnight she would get up and attend church services. She invited the Benedictine Order to establish a monastery at Dunfermline in 1072 and was responsible for having ferries built to assist pilgrims traveling back and forth across the river to worship. Margaret also initiated the restoration of the monastery at Iona and was responsible for the release of fellow English exiles, captured during the invasion.

Margaret was as devout in her private life as she was in public. She was totally genuine. Much of her time was spent in prayer, devotional readings, and doing ecclesiastical embroidery. All of her hard work and devotion to God had a profound effect on her once-volatile husband. The king who could not read was so impressed with his wife he had her prayer books decorated with gold and silver. One of these, a pocket gospel with grand pictures of the evangelists, is kept at the Bodleian Library in Oxford.

Malcolm never understood the long-term effects of his wife’s many endeavors. He loved her so much he just let her do as she wished. However, heartache came to Margaret unexpectedly. During the Battle of Alnwick on November 13, 1093 Malcolm and their eldest son, Edward, were killed in battle against the English. Margaret’s son, Edgar, had the unenviable task of informing his mom.

Her constant fasting and offering of herself to Jesus had taken its toll. Not yet fifty, she died three days after her husband and son were killed. In recognition of her personal holiness, fidelity to the Church, implementing religious reform and her ongoing works of charity, Pope Innocent IV canonized Margaret a saint in June of 1250.

In Proverbs 31: 10-12, Lemuel, King of Massa, was given this advice by his mother:

“When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls. Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize. She brings him good, and not evil, all the days of her life.”

King Malcolm III of Scotland had such a wife.

St. Margaret of Scotland, pray for us.

The Gift of Red

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

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

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

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

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

Cardinal Red

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

Lepidoptera Blessings

October 9, 2017/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Inspirational/by Paula Veloso Babadi

IMG_1225-L[1]

The day after hurricane Irma, I marveled at a swallowtail butterfly gliding through my front yard; a graceful, welcome reprieve from the harsh winds of the day before. It was huge, soaring and totally unexpected. This isn’t the first time a butterfly has blessed my day.

Happiness is as a Butterfly

In the early seventies, pastel posters floated around everywhere declaring “Happiness is as a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.” One of my best friends gave me a small rock with a stone butterfly atop it because she knew how much I loved the bidding to sit quietly and coax the butterfly. I kept that rock for over forty five years, smiling every time I remembered the person and the poster behind the gift. A few years ago, when the butterfly came unglued and was lost, I gave up the rock and replaced it with an engraving in my heart from Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I am God…” I have come to understand that he is my true happiness.

Monarch Migration

Just prior to starting the fifth grade my oldest son, Jahan, received a postcard from his teacher with an assignment to research and deliver a class presentation on the monarch butterfly. Monitoring my son’s project gave me a great appreciation for the only butterfly known to migrate as birds do to winter homes and fly back en masse for summers.

Together we colored a huge poster with multitudes of monarchs and I began noticing every monarch that ever graced our garden marveling at their trek, sometimes as far as three thousand miles! That such a delicate creature could survive the arduous journey amazed me and I figured there was a lesson in perseverance and trust I should remember.

One of my father’s favorite passages was Matthew 6:26 “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” I think he could just have easily been talking about butterflies.

Recent Blessing

Butterflies fight to emerge from their cocoon- without the struggle, they don’t build the strength in their wings to fly when they break free. Some years ago, I was struggling to get through the weariness and burdens of too much work, not enough time, and feelings that life would always be like this. But God is so good; he gave me something I didn’t even know I needed.

I was walking out my front door one early morning, reluctantly heading off to work. As I stepped off my porch, a magnificent monarch hovered in front of me, rested on a nearby bush and took flight again. I stopped and immersed myself in the present moment, thanking God for the pure beauty and joy of a simple butterfly. And then, I was peaceful.

“But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31

A calmness stayed with me as I realized the battle to be free, to soar above weariness will always be present, because we live in an imperfect world. But along the way, we can learn from the butterfly who doesn’t give up the fight to transform, to fly, even if only for a while. I thank God for the struggles that allow the breaking free and the soaring against a vast sky. The prize is winged flight and the reprieve of sweet nectar on the journey.

Lepidoptera

I long to fly
short-lived though soaring be
from embryo to crawling
then cocoon before the world I see.

Too much to bear,
the daily battle tires me.
Death sure to come if I but pause before
emergence sets me free.

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This morning, transformation is in grasp
as night skies yield to light of day
and brilliant colors spread their wings at last.
Until they fall,
give me a sip to drink along the way.

Maybe I’m Amazed

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

By Janice Lane Palko

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

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

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

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

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

Red Rainbow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*edited version published in Aleteia on March 3, 2017

It’s Perfect – Not!

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

By Janice Lane Palko

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

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

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

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

So much for perfection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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