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When it Comes to Life and Death, the Paradox that is Humanity is Inexplicable

February 5, 2019/2 Comments/in Blogging, Faith/by Larry Peterson

On January 22, 2019, New York’s governor, Andrew Cuomo, signed into law the Reproductive Health Act. This was also the anniversary of Roe v.Wade.

When the governor finished signing this bill, a suffocating wind exploded from the halls of the capitol, caused by the cheers and screams of those upstanding lawmakers who had voted to legalize infanticide. Indeed, the wind has moved like a tsunami across our land, leaving behind a foul and repugnant odor.

There is an inexplicable paradox that engulfs humanity. I believe there is a far greater number of women and men who are willing to lay down their very lives for their child, even if it is still unborn, than those people who rejoice in the death and destruction of the most innocent and helpless of all God’s creations. I have no answers for this human phenomena.

The signing of this bill and the cheering that followed brought me back to a day 40 years earlier: September 6, 1978. For my young family, that was also a day about the life and death of a baby. Mostly, it is about how one woman would go to any lengths to save her unborn child.

Loretta had entered her sixth month of pregnancy, and in the days preceding September 6, there had been little movement from the baby. On September 5, the doctor had appeared concerned but had only said that the heartbeat “could be a bit stronger.” He wanted her to return in a week.

The rest of that day there was no movement. We had gone to bed and fallen asleep. I was on my right side, and Loretta was lying against my back. Suddenly something jabbed me in the back. It was hard enough to wake me. I sat up and said, “The baby just kicked me.”

She said softly, “Yes, I know.”

It was 2 a.m., and all was dark and peaceful, but we did not fall back asleep. We just lay quietly, side by side, holding hands and waiting. A second kick never came.

The next morning, after I had gone to work, Loretta began to hemorrhage. Her mom had been staying with us for a few days — and thank God she was there. She called 911 and then called and left a message for me at work. My first stop was only ten minutes from the hospital, and I arrived there before the ambulance.

When they pulled the gurney out, I was stunned at what I saw. My wife had lost so much blood that her hair was smeared with it. Her eyes were closed and she was not moving. I stood by helplessly as they rushed her into the ER.

For those who reject and scoff at the wonder of God’s human creations, here is an example of how one woman did not. As I was standing there not knowing what to do or where to go, a priest came in and asked me if I was Larry Peterson. I just nodded, and he told me that my mother-in-law had called his parish. As Loretta was being wheeled out of the house, she made her mother promise to have a priest waiting to baptize her child. Her mom kept that promise.

There was a hospital ten minutes from our house. I was told that the paramedics wanted to go there but that Loretta demanded they take her to the Catholic hospital a half-hour away. They told her it was way too risky because of the amount of blood she was losing. She would not relent, and they did as she asked. She was determined to have her child baptized. She had knowingly and willingly put her life on the line for her baby.

Loretta survived and the baby did not. She was baptized. A few days later, the remains of Theresa Mary Peterson left the funeral home in a tiny white casket. The casket was placed on the front seat of a limousine. We followed it to Gate of Heaven Cemetery in Valhalla, N.Y. She was buried with my parents, and her name is on the tombstone. She did exist and will always be remembered.

As the great Pope, St. John Paul II said, “A nation that kills its own children is a nation without hope.”

Lest evil prevails, we must pray like never before that our nation overcomes this onslaught against the very image of God Himself.

Humility—What is it? Where is it? Who has it? How do we attain it? Let’s ask St. Benedict

December 4, 2018/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith/by Larry Peterson

What is humility? The dictionary defines it as: (noun) “modest opinion or estimate of one’s own importance, rank, etc.”

The opposite of humility is pride. Pride is defined as: (noun) “a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.”

Apparently, in this modern, self-absorbed world the pride factor has taken over. There used to be a slogan that said, “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names can never hurt you.” It seems that slogan has been thrown into the dustbin of antiquity. The new slogan seems to be, “That was offensive. I demand an apology.” (or something like that).

It seems that more than half of the human race smothers itself to death with self-absorption. This condition may warrant a journey back in time to visit one of the greatest of Catholic saints; his name is St. Benedict of Nursia. Benedict’s work was so important in the evangelization of most of Europe that in 1964 Pope (now Saint) Paul VI proclaimed St. Benedict the Patron Saint of Europe.

Benedict authored the Benedictine Rule. Included in these rules are the Twelve Steps of Humility. Let us see what this saint has to say about humility. Since Benedict wrote in detail about each step, what follows will be a brief synopsis of each one.

Benedict introduced his Twelve Steps with this preface:

“Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled, and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.” (Luke 14:11)

How to be Humble:

Step one: The Fear of God. Man must keep the fear of God always before his eyes and never forget His commandments. The fear of God means reverence for God, and by offending God, we offend ourselves.
Step 2: Not My Will, but Yours, O Lord (John 6:38). This means to be humble we must avoid taking pleasure in our own wants and desires but always strive to do God’s will before all else.
Step 3: He was obedient even unto death (Philippians 2:8). Humility requires us to be obedient to authority which includes our parents, our priest, lawful authority, etc.
Step 4: Embrace Suffering Patiently and Obediently. “For he that will save his life shall lose it: and he that shall lose his life for my sake, shall find it.” (Matthew 16:24-25)
Step 5: Confess our sins and faults. This means we should regularly confess our sins to a priest through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
Step 6: Be content with lowliness. We should accept that we are sinful and frail and when left to ourselves we are not much, but to God we are of precious value — so much so that he suffered and died for us.
Step 7: Understand our Interior Mediocrity. “It is a blessing that you have humbled me so that I can learn Your commandments” (Psalm 119:71, 73).
Step 8: To Keep the Rule. This is to remind the Benedictines to keep the Rule of their Order. It reminds us to keep the rules of Holy Mother Church.
Step 9: Silence and Solitude. We should always avoid speaking ill of others and try to embrace silence and solitude whenever God provides it for us.
Step 10: Keep Your Peace in Times of Laughter. This pertains to us laughing and making fun of others, something we should never do.
Step 11: Speak Calmly and Modestly. We should train our tongue so that the words we speak are foremost, pleasing to God and never
Step 12: Everlasting Humility and Meekness. We should strive to live our lives, day and night, by bearing whatever problems or adversities we are experiencing thereby allowing God’s kindness and gentleness to shine through us.

Cardinal Rafael Merry del Val was Secretary of State to Pope (now Saint) Pius X. He wrote the famous Litany of Humility. We might pray that more people embrace the gift of humility. We certainly need more of it.

Pope St. Stephen I—He defined the Sacrament of Baptism and it Stands to this Day

September 3, 2018/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Defending the Faith, History/by Larry Peterson

If we could travel back in time to the middle of the third century we would quickly discover the Catholic Church, although quite different from today, had many similarities to our modern-day Church. There was plenty of hierarchical infighting going on and the politics of leading the Church was in flux.

In 250 AD, the Roman emperor Decius, unhappy as to how Christianity was spreading, embarked on a persecution of the Christians that, until that time, was the most brutal they had ever faced. Among the first to die was Pope Fabian, the sixteenth pope, who had held the papacy for fourteen years.

When Fabian died, he was followed by Pope Cornelius, who died within a year. He was followed by Pope Lucius I, who also died within a year. Both of these men died of natural causes. The Church was then without a pope and was run by a collective, under the direction of a priest named Novatian.

Emperor Decius demanded that all Christians offer sacrifice to the Roman gods to show their loyalty to Rome. Any who refused were executed. Others fled into the countryside or tried to bribe officials. The last recourse was to reject the Faith. Many took this route. It was an easier path than giving up one’s life.

After Fabian’s murder, a huge pastoral problem arose. Emperor Decius’ persecution had seen many Christians purchase certificates attesting to the fact that they had made the required sacrifices to the Roman Gods. Other had denied that they were Christians, while still others took part in pagan sacrifices.

These people were called “lapsi.” The question within the still-fledgling Church was whether, if they repented for their sins, they could be readmitted to full communion with the Church. If they could, what would be the conditions? Novatian was preaching the false doctrine that those people who were “lapsi” could not be forgiven while the Catholic position was to grant full communion to those who fully repented.

Novatian and his followers would only grant fellowship to the sinners, not full communion. Novatian went even further and said that those who had denied the Faith and worshipped idols could not be forgiven, as the Church did not have the power to do so. He said that being baptized does not administer forgiveness for certain heinous sins.

Pope Lucius had appointed his archdeacon, Stephen, as his successor (this was way before the College of Cardinals) and Pope Stephen I was faced with the task of reuniting the Church from the schism started by Novatian. He began his papacy in the year 254.

Stephen’s most important battle was his defense of the Sacrament of Baptism. The Novatianist priests were re-baptizing those who sought forgiveness. Stephen insisted that re-baptizing a previously baptized person was unnecessary. He argued that only absolution was required to regain full communion with the church. Cyprian of Carthage and other African and Asian bishops called what the Novationists were doing as heretical.

Stephen, who had the support of Cyprian and other bishops, was pressured from others within the Church to be flexible and allow re-baptism for the Novatianist priests. Stephen would not waver and stayed true to his conviction. Even Cyprian changed his mind and disagreed loudly, claiming that baptism administered by heretics was invalid. All those people who had received this sacrament would need to be re-baptized.

But Stephen was the Bishop of Rome. The unwavering defense of his position on Baptism more than likely established Rome as the seat of the Church. He claimed that he was occupying the seat of Peter as handed down by Christ. Stephen is recognized as the first pope to formally announce the primacy of Rome. He also decreed that baptism, if administered by anyone with the right intent, is valid. That practice stands today, 1800 years later.

Stephen died in 257 and his Feast Day is August 2. He is honored as a saint in both the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church.

St. Stephen I, pray for us.

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.

The Mercy We Are Called to Live

January 10, 2018/4 Comments/in Faith, Holidays, Mercy, Spiritual Life/by Allison Gingras

When 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.

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.

Within the Crowd I Watched in Awe as the Priest Stepped into the Sandals of Christ

November 7, 2017/2 Comments/in Beauty, Catholic Theme/by Larry Peterson

What follows is about a priest in a crowd, a famous poem, and a moment in time. The moment was like seeing a tiny flower growing out of a crack in a concrete sidewalk. That tiny flower is another example of God’s creative beauty that surrounds us yet is barely noticed by anyone. The fate of that tiny flower is ominous. Even though no person anywhere at any time could ever create that fragile, work of living beauty, it more than likely will be ignored, stepped upon or sprayed with weed killer to get rid of it. Ah well, we “smarties” have no time for such trivialities and petty annoyances.

The poem I refer to is “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer. Written in 1913, it has a timely message. There is a line in the poem that reads, “A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray”: the tiny flower in the concrete is a smaller version, is it not? So what about the priest in the crowd?

I was at a parish event the other evening which featured as speakers our bishop, an author, a radio station personality, and our pastor. The Knights of Columbus (which included me) were the ones who prepared and served the free dinner to over 300 guests. The parish center was packed, and when the final speaker had finished we began to serve the dessert. I sensed something special was going on nearby. I do not know if anyone else but me was paying attention but I was about to witness one of those special moments in time.

There were a number of local parish priests in attendance and one of them was the chaplain at the local VA hospital. I was working in the kitchen, getting the cake plates on trays and handing the trays to those serving the guests. Outside the kitchen was the drink table where coffee, tea, cold drinks etc were available. At any given time there were at least ten people standing in line. Five feet away from the drink table was the first row of dinner tables. Father was sitting at the end of the first table talking to a woman.

At this point, the chatter was quite loud and people were up and moving about visiting other tables saying “Hi” to other folks they knew. I noticed Father looking at the young lady very intently and purposefully. I knew this priest had put his Jesus’ sandals on.

I kept working and watching the two of them. They were at least twenty feet away from me and, with all the activity and noise and people milling about and all around them, they had managed to be alone. The priest listened and listened and listened some more. I watched as best I could because this was so awe-inspiring. I was witnessing Christ do His thing through His priest. This happens every time we attend Mass, but how many of us think about what actually IS happening? We hear of this happening in other places, but how often do we get to watch it happen? Hardly ever.

After a while, Father leaned his head to the right a bit and rested his chin on his upraised fist. He was not looking directly at the woman; he was now sort of looking downward. He inconspicuously blessed her and, I assume, she was being given absolution. I was not positive because I had heard nothing and never even saw her face. But it did not matter. Whatever was happening between them was spiritual and beautiful.

Like the tiny flower popping its little lavender petal through a crack in concrete or Kilmer’s magnificent tree looking at God all day lifting its “leafy arms to pray,” this moment was those moments. Few people notice the stunning oak tree standing majestically alongside a roadway or a blade of grass pushing its way through a hairline crack in a slab of cement. Sadly, more and more people are losing sight of Christ in our midst and the hand of the Creator smiling down on His creations. I was blessed. I caught a glimpse the other night.

Joyce Kilmer’s poem finishes up with the poignant words: “Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.”

We need to remember that.

Lepidoptera Blessings

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

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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.

The Piano Farewell: My Wife’s Passing is Now Complete yet the Music Lives On*

September 1, 2017/7 Comments/in Faith/by Larry Peterson

My wife, Marty, after a four+ year downward spiral with cancer and Alzheimer’s disease, passed last March. But, for me, her passing was never complete as long as her piano remained at home. Recently, her piano found a new home and the way it all played out was truly a beautiful thing. I thought I should share it here.

___________________________________________

“To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.” St. Thomas Aquinas

Marty passed away this past March and her piano remained behind. It was part of her, an extension if you will, for no matter how much of her memory disappeared, every day she would still manage to play that piano. The last few months of her life she probably sat playing it two to three hours a day. It followed that after she was gone the piano stayed right where it had always been, the only difference being the silence resonating from it.

Copyright 2017 Larry Peterson. All rights reserved.

The presence of her piano had extended the grief process for me. When you came in my front door it was right there, waiting to be brought to life. It was silent but when I looked at it I could see Marty sitting there playing. At times I could even hear the music. When I did it was so clear and vivid that at times I just had to leave the house. I even thought I was “losing” it.

After several weeks I covered the piano up with a large blanket. I placed a few knickknacks on top and did my best to ignore it. The camouflage worked just a tiny bit but it was better than nothing. What to do? What to do? Here is where my faith comes in. Here is where I opened myself up and “let go and let God.”

I thought of selling the piano, but that thought evaporated quickly. There was no way I could “sell” Marty’s piano. I wanted it to go to someone who could not afford one and who would be able to play. So I contacted my parish and after two or three weeks of “no response” I forgot about it. So I just kept praying and waited.

Hospice had a bereavement group that had begun on May 10. I decided to attend. We met once a week for six weeks. I had discussed the piano with them. When we had finished our meetings, the three of us who were left exchanged our email addresses and phone numbers. On July 27, I received a Facebook message from Sue, who was part of the bereavement group. She wrote that the music director at the Anona Methodist Church (who was also a piano teacher) might know a family that could use a piano.

I phoned the music director. Her name was Sandy and she told me that she knew a lady named Sarah, who had a seven-year-old boy who was learning to play. They only had a keyboard as the family could not afford a piano. It was a perfect scenario. I asked Sandy if she would have Sarah call me, and the next day she did. She was thrilled at the opportunity to get this piano for her son. And herein is when I fully understood how God was in charge of this entire piano saga.

Marty began playing a piano at the age of six or seven. 70 years later, Sarah’s son has begun playing at the age of six or seven. I thought about it and realized that it is possible that maybe 70 years from now, an older man might be playing a piano somewhere. He would have learned to play on the same piano that a woman named Marty played her last song on 70 years earlier. In essence, the music coming from that piano had never stopped and now spanned four generations. And yes, the possibility exists that it may continue well after he is gone. Who knows, right?

I have absolutely no doubt that this was “meant to be” and here is why; the piano was picked up and delivered to its new owner on August 10. That is the Feast Day (and this only happens once a year) of St. Lawrence, who is my patron Saint (talk about messaging). Having Faith (as quoted by Aquinas above) is a beautiful thing. My prayers were, without a doubt, answered.

One final thought; I can see Marty looking down with that great big smile of hers stretched from ear to ear. She is watching as a little boy sits at her piano and fingers the very keys she had fingered only six months earlier. And, as is God’s way of things, life goes on. On occasion, so does His music.

*Another version of this appeared in Aleteia on August 11, 2017

My Yearly Faith Challenge: The Annual Prostate Exam

November 1, 2016/1 Comment/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Hope/by Larry Peterson

October was Breast Cancer Awareness Month across the nation. This is a good and noble fight and I am glad that “pink” is everywhere down to the shoes and wrist bands the NFL players wear to the pink bats MLB players use. But I would like to share about a cancer that is not talked about very much. I would like to share about the second leading cancer killer among men–prostate cancer. (Lung cancer is the leading killer of both men and women in the USA). The following is personal aka”about me.”

I remember it like it was yesterday. The doctor waltzed into the exam room and matter of factly said, “Well, you have a cancer in the prostate.”

As he stood there flipping through and staring at the sheets on his clipboard, I was thinking—Huh? What? Wait a minute—Huh? Then came the frightened stare as I looked at this guy who in the briefest of moments had changed my life with unexpected news about ME. Cancer? No way!

It had not been a knockout punch but I had surely been sly-rapped and dazed. He calmed me down and, as I slowly cleared my head, he said, “Don’t worry, Larry. We did twelve cuts when we biopsied and there was cancer only in one. I think we found it early. I recommend you get it out now and you will most likely be finished with it.”

That was in March of 2007. On May 10 of that year I underwent a radical prostatectomy. Robotic surgery was brand new and unavailable to me so I had it done the “old-fashioned” way, by hand. They took it out. All of it. I have been cancer free ever since, with some residual side effects (another story for another day). So what is my faith challenge?

My annual checkup is every September. Every year, as the day approaches, the anxiety in me builds. I cannot help it. I have never forgotten that initial announcement about my having “a” cancer. Anyway, the protocol is that I go for a PSA one week week and the following week I see the Doc for the results.

The results have to be .003, yes, ZERO, and then I can breathe easy and go home for another year. So far, the results have been ZERO, nine years in a row. That is considered ‘probably’ cured. Praise the Lord, right?

That is my challenge. I like to consider myself a man of faith. “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart,” right? I have this illusion that I do, but when it comes to this damn yearly test I get weak in the knees. I can’t shake it. Maybe I am a “man of faith” only when everything is hunky-dory. In other words, my “faith” is not nearly as strong as I may think it is. Am I a faith wuss?

I don’t know. I just want to go to the doctor like I’m going for a haircut and not give it a second thought. I tell myself God has my back. I think I believe that no matter what happens, it fits into God’s plan. Jesus loves me, I’m sure of it. So whatever is my problem? Is my faith journey all smoke and mirrors?

Here are a few numbers. One in seven American men will have prostate cancer during his lifetime. It is the second leading cause of cancer death among American men. Every 20 minutes another American man dies of prostate cancer, which factors out to 71 deaths per day. That means 26,120 men will die this year from this type of cancer. Early detection is the key to survival.

Next March I will be ten years out from my diagnosis. I should be kicking my heels and jumping for joy. Don’t get me wrong; I do thank God every day for my good health and cancer-free existence. I just think that I should be able to ignore the possible downside to my test results.

Maybe it is all part of the human equation. We just can’t help recoiling when confronted with our own mortality. My faith has, without a doubt, carried me through this and all aspects of my life. I have been blessed and I hope the Good Lord has patience for a faith wuss such as me.

There is one glaring fact that is as obvious to me as the sun shining on a clear summer day. Until I draw my last breath, my faith journey will always be a work in progress and I shall never take it for granted.

By the way–the color for prostate cancer awareness is pale blue or powder blue. Not many people know that.