Confessions of a Journal Writer

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Journal writing entered my life when I received a pastel tie-dye-covered diary for my ninth birthday. The diary came with two dainty little keys, which I guarded with my life, though a sharp pair of shears could have gained anyone entry. That summer, I discovered my aptitude and affection for reflective writing. My first musings revolved around friendships, the unfair punishment imposed by my parents (however, to be fair, each was totally deserved), and I even took a whirl at penning poetry.

I still journal over 40 years later, albeit there is much less personal angst and much more spiritual contemplation. The joy of pen to paper, sorting through the full range of human emotion, connecting random thoughts, and wrestling with questions of theology—continue to bring great satisfaction and moments of remarkable clarity. While some people think out loud, I have learned that I think with a pen. My ideas come to a fuller understanding and bloom to maturity as I scrawl them out.

Muddled ideologies and bumpy spiritual awakenings are smoothed out as they are scratched out in red, purple, or green bold point across the smooth glistening writing surface. As my thoughts come fast and furious, my pen frantically toils to keep up, and there is no longer a need for a key to keep prying eyes from discovering my deepest thoughts. For it would require an expert in hieroglyphics as the words fly across the page, seemingly taking on a language of their own—my grandmother would call what remains chicken scratch.

Yet, I know I can return to these glorious pages and recall every word, every emotion. I decided long ago that the words I can no longer decipher or remember are simply not important or meant for anyone other than me. It is akin to those fleeting thoughts which float in and out of our consciousness, dismissed as inconsequential. The messages God wishes me to relay, I can attest, He repeats and reiterates through various situations and from myriad voices. In the end, I’m confident that what I publish for others to read not only comes from Him but always glorifies Him.

As time progresses, the purpose of my journals has evolved, less of capturing the memories of childhood and more of retaining the highlights of my journey of faith reversion. How the Catholic faith can be lived fully in everyday, ordinary moments of life, which I shared through my non-fiction writing. Between the pages of my collection of journals, one finds contemplation on the Scripture, catechesis on the tenets of the faith, mixed with my own struggle to believe, not lose faith, and cast-off doubts.

Spurred on to share because I’ve recognized, after years of conversations with others, that I am not the only person walking in the same wobbly steps, stumbling on these same rocks.

The journey is humbling, overwhelming, exciting at times, and heartbreaking at others. Yet, I know this is my call: to scribe the spiritual, spending endless hours in prayer, reading the scriptures, and participating in the sacraments. All to stay as close to Him as I can, and I’ll joyfully persist because it is on these pages I feel the closest to my God.

Copyright 2022 Allison Gingras

 

Loneliness and Thanksgiving: Thoughts from a Catholic man

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God is the answer, because without Him there is no hope

By Larry Peterson

Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty. (St. Teresa of Calcutta)

This will be the third Thanksgiving since my wife passed away, and when you become widowed, there is an inescapable loneliness factor that enters your life. But I have learned that loneliness has no boundaries. It reaches out for everyone and captures many of the unsuspecting, including those who are seemingly happy, contented, and successful, dragging them into a world of hidden misery and often depression.

However, many who have experienced loss manage to bounce back and find contentment, peace, and even love again. Others cannot — why is that? The common denominator seems to be that those people who have God in their lives were never alone at all. Those who do not, remain alone. The first consequence of rejecting God is the loss of hope. They have allowed hope to be erased from their spirit.

The results of losing hope are devastating. In fact, the loneliness factor in the United States has reached epidemic proportions. Here are a few statistics that show how losing hope has affected our nation. Loss of hope leads to despair, and the ones affected most by this loss are in Generation Z: those who are in the 18 to 22-year-old range. I have grandchildren older than that. The entire concept of these young people, fresh from adolescence and beginning adulthood, having lost hope is so sad. How can this be?

Cigna referenced a “Loneliness Index” which shows that loneliness has become rampant in the United States. This worldwide health services company used the UCLA Loneliness Scale  (yes, they have a loneliness scale), which is a 20-item questionnaire designed to determine a person’s social isolation and their subjective feelings. This evaluator is used frequently to track and measure loneliness. Some of the results were astonishing. This is from their report of May 1, 2018:

  • 47 percent of Americans sometimes or always feel alone
  • 27 percent of Americans feel no one understands them
  • 40 percent feel that their relationships have no meaning and feel isolated
  • 20 percent feel they feel close to no one and have no one to talk to
  • Amazingly, Generation Z (people 18 to 22) are the loneliest generation. How heartbreaking is that?
  • Social media users have a 43.5 percent loneliness factor, which was comparable to the 41.7 percent for those who do not use social media.

Isn’t it interesting that nowhere is the name of God mentioned in these findings? And nowhere is the importance of the traditional family considered. The numbers are mind-boggling. We are a nation of almost 330 million people. If 47% say they feel “alone” that is nearly half the country. We only have to go back 25 years to the early “90s to see the rapid decline in the absence of hope.

Since then, there has been a 58% decline in club meetings, a 43% drop in family dinners, and children have their playtime regulated, depriving them of natural social development. People use their phones to message each other, apply for jobs, get interviewed, quit jobs, break up with their boyfriends or girlfriends, file divorce papers, and do all sorts of interactions without having to go face to face with a person, never saying one word.

Getting back to God and family would be akin to putting the linchpin back into the hub of life. Then, people, kids included, might be taught that they can turn to Jesus and never be alone. They might be taught to think of His words:

And behold, I am with you always, until the end of this age. (Matthew 28:20)

We must count our blessings on Thanksgiving, especially knowing that more than half of all Americans still believe in and honor God in their lives and that we have the freedom to do it. This Thanksgiving, millions upon millions of us will pray together, thanking God for all we have. We should also pray for all those who do not have hope in their lives. We know it can always be reignited and prayer can be the kindling used to fire up the hope lying dormant in so many.

God is just waiting to be asked to light the match.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Copyright © Larry Peterson 2019

The Mercy We Are Called to Live

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?!

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

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

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

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

It’s Perfect – Not!

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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.

Running for the End Zone

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By Janice Lane Palko

I recently celebrated my birthday. Now that I’m past the fifty-yard line of life and heading to the end zone, I can no longer deny that I am aging. When I was in my twenties and thirties, I could ignore the subtle signs of the advancing clock, and in my forties, platitudes like “forty is the new thirty” provided a flimsy veil of denial that I was growing older. However, when you hit your fifties, your children are grown, you are now called grandma, and conversations with friends gravitate toward aging parents, physical ailments, and possible retirement dates, there is no denying the obvious: I am getting older.

Many of us take a passive approach to our advancing years, believing that how one ages is out of one’s control–that it’s something that just happens to you. Others go into warrior mode and fight the “dying of the light” with hair plugs, Botox, and sundry other remedies in an attempt to vanquish the inevitable. This birthday spurred me to examine how I wanted to age. I decided I didn’t want to take the “curl up and die” approach and surrender to Father Time, but I also decided that I didn’t want to take the “aging rock star” approach and look foolish trying to cling to my youth at all cost. So how to approach this process of growing older? The second chapter of Luke’s Gospel provides the prescription. This last line jumped out at me as this chapter concludes: And Jesus increased in wisdom, and age, and grace with God and men.

It may seem odd talking about growing older when considering the immortality of Jesus. Though human and divine at the same time, Jesus, nevertheless, did age in body as is evident from his progression from birth as an infant to his culmination as an adult man in his thirties. Therefore, Jesus knew what it was to grow older, and as in all things, He provides the example for all humanity. This verse from Luke is His prescriptive on aging, and it implies that it should be an active, deliberative process that includes three aspects.

The first aspect is to grow in wisdom. To age following Jesus’s example, we must actively pursue wisdom. What exactly is wisdom? Proverbs 9: 10 tells us that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Fear in this sense does not mean wariness of God, but of a healthy knowledge of His magnificence and our place and God’s place in His grand design. To acquire wisdom is not to gain knowledge but to be always persevering to know God and know ourselves in relation to Him.

The second aspect is to grow in age. While we know that Jesus advanced in years, many commentaries say that this phrase actually means to mature. Not only did Jesus grow in wisdom, but he flourished into our Savoir. What does it mean to mature? It means to become what God intended you to be, to embrace and fulfill your mission on earth. So, we are not only to gain knowledge of God and ourselves, but we are also to channel that wisdom into serving God by becoming exactly who He intended us to be.

Finally, we must grow in grace. Now, if Jesus is perfect, he could not have grown in grace as we usually think of it. Most biblical scholars take this passage to mean that Jesus performed greater and greater works for men and for God. Therefore, to follow in Jesus’s example, we must continue to acquire knowledge of God and ourselves and strive to fulfill our mission on earth. However, unlike Christ we are not perfected in grace. As such, we must rely on God to help us do greater and greater works in His name.

So, our golden years are designed not to be a passive time of acceptance of the elapsing years or an unreasonable attachment to bodily youth, but to enjoy a dynamic time of continued growth and development. We are to continue our run all the way to the end zone—perhaps with flagging physical strength and failing breath—but, nevertheless, with a vibrant spirit filled with wisdom, maturity, and grace.

When Picking up Your Pen Is Picking up Your Cross

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By Janice Lane Palko

How do you regard your writing career? Perhaps you’re like me. I’ve been putting words on paper for more than 20 years, and I’ve always regarded my propensity to write as a being a blessing and as a calling of sorts. I wrote last month how God and, to a lesser extent, we humans can take something meant for harm and turn it into good. My writing has been a blessing wrought from misery.

I’m a natural-born worrier. Some families seem to pass on the proclivity to become addicted to alcohol, drugs, or gambling while others seem to be prone to divorce or commit suicide, but my family’s fatal foible is to fret. We are world-class worriers. After my third and last child was born, now nearly 25 years ago, I began to experience panic attacks. At first, I didn’t know what was happening to me, but as a worrier, I, of course, assumed it had to be something catastrophic like a brain tumor. After consulting my family doctor and a visit to a therapist, it became apparent that I was under too much stress—a lot of which I was putting upon myself. In addition to having three small children at the time and getting no sleep and experiencing several family health crises, I have a vivid imagination. As such, I realized through some introspection and prayer, that I was using my God-given imagination to terrorize myself. For instance, if I saw a carjacking on the news, I would cast myself as a victim and play out the scenario in detail in my mind of what it would be like to be taken captive and held by brutal criminals.

Through prayer, reprioritizing my things in my life, and discovering that I could terrorize people on the page through writing instead of myself, I found a happier, more peaceful, and more productive life. That’s why I’ve always viewed my writing career as a blessing in my life. It refocused my mind on more productive things.

During this Lent, however, I’ve come to another perspective–one that seems contradictory since I love writing so much. I’ve become aware that writing may also be my cross. Not to trivialize Jesus’s passion and death by comparing it to the life of a writer, but when you are a writer, life is not all sunshine and roses. There is suffering. How many of us could paper the walls with rejection slips? How many of us have had a piece you’ve sweated over fall flat? How many of us have looked at a paltry royalty check and wondered if it’s all worth it? How many of us have watched as books like Fifty Shades of Grey soar to the top of the bestseller’s list while our writing attempts to edify and inspire bump along the bottom of the Amazon charts? How many of us have put in a full day’s work or spent all day taking care of a home and children only to use what little “me time” there is to eke out some writing?

In writing this piece, I did some research on what it means for Catholics to “take up their cross.” It seems that passage of scripture is often difficult to define, but I like this thought on it that Saint Pope John Paul II gave during World Youth Day in 2001.

“As the cross can be reduced to being an ornament, ‘to carry the cross’ can become just a manner of speaking. In the teaching of Jesus, however, it does not imply the pre-eminence of mortification and denial. It does not refer primarily to the need to endure patiently the great and small tribulations of life, or, even less, to the exaltation of pain as a means of pleasing God. It is not suffering for its own sake that a Christian seeks, but love. When the cross is embraced, it becomes a sign of love and of total self-giving. To carry it behind Christ means to be united with him in offering the greatest proof of love.”

Like the proverbial double-edge sword, I’ve come to see my writing as both a blessing and a cross much as Jesus’s cross is both a curse as it spelled suffering and death and yet, at the same time, was the greatest sign of His love for us. Suffering and love are always intertwined.

Therefore, as we come to another Easter, I’m going to dwell less on the suffering endured as a writer and strive to be more like Jesus and take up my cross and offer everything I put on the page as a great proof of love.

Humility and Pope Francis

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Image source: Cassie Pease Designs..

This is from the Gospel of Luke; Chapter 9: vs 46-50

An argument arose among the disciples about which of them was the greatest.

Jesus realized the intention of their hearts and took a child and placed it by his side and said to them, “Whoever receives this child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me. 

For the one who who is least among all of you is the one who is greatest.”

This gospel reading is all about the greatest of all the ‘deadly’ sins, Pride. It is also about the greatest of all ‘heavenly’ virtues, Humility. This is a “clash of the titans” of evil vs Good. And Pope Francis, without trying and by just being who God made him to be, wears the mantle of humility without fanfare, showmanship, pretentiousness or anything that might be self-serving in any manner. Yes, he wears that mantle and it is fastened to his shoulders with the clasp of Love. In so doing he continually  shows  the whole world what it means to think of yourself the least among all others.  (Was that a Fiat Hatchback or a Ford Taurus?)

Jorge Mario Bergoglio never asked to be a bishop or a cardinal. He never “lobbied” for these positions or  sought them out in any way. He did not have “super-PACs” at his beck and call when the vacancy for Pope opened. He simply loved being a priest, working with the poor and homeless, and doing his best to follow God’s call so he would make his life pleasing to Him. Make no mistake, God called him to the papacy. The secular world may mock that concept, but that is why they do not understand. That is why they cannot experience the joy so many millions of faithful are experiencing with his papacy. If they could only swallow their damn pride a bit and open their hearts to some  humility, they may find the elusive peace that evades them.

Pope Francis is filled with the Holy Spirit. That Spirit leads him to stop his motorcade and wade into a crowd of children and hug them and kiss their foreheads. It compels him to embrace the crippled, the disfigured, the mentally challenged, the homeless as well as the “uppity-ups.” He has no qualms about walking into a prison and embracing hard-core murderers, rapists, thieves, and drug dealers. Pope Francis sees the Face of Christ in EVERYONE.

Last September, during his stop in Washington, D.C.,  he visited with President Obama and then offered Mass in the National Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. When he finished he made a point of going to the offices of the Little Sisters of the Poor. He had to send a message to the entire world about the solidarity that exists within the Church when it comes to respect for life, ALL life. That message required no words—just action. The Pope gave that message by meeting with the Sisters who take care of the elderly poor free of charge, and have been doing so since St. Jeanne Jugan founded the order back in 1841.

Pope Francis left our country a more contented and inspired nation. He reached out to everyone and many  responded. He represents the Goodness and Love that Jesus Christ brought to us and, despite the horrors of jihad and the emptiness of secularism pervading our lives, his presence and example make our world a better place. He is HIS ambassador on earth and  he represents HIM well. We have all been blessed.

©Larry Peterson 2016

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