Man of Blessing

Dear Sisters,

Lately I have read a biography of St. Benedict by Carmen Acevedo Butcher.  This beautifully written account of the holy man credited with the monastic movement was filled with wonderful accounts of miracles, love of Christ and of neighbor and a simplicity in life that I can't help but envy. 

St. Benedict started nearly every day at 2 a.m. and by 5 a.m. he had already spent 3 hours in communal prayer and the recitation of psalms known as the Divine Office.  It's an ironic fact that this architect of communal life who wrote a rule still used in monasteries today spent years first as a hermit before seeking out the company of others.  Once out of the confines of his solitary cave, this holy man started a movement that expanded exponentially throughout his life and still exists to modern times.

The father of monasticism was born in Nursia in 480 AD, the son of a Roman nobleman.  Tradition holds that he had a twin, St. Scholastica.  The foundational years for this young Roman were violent ones in his country with a number of armies and leaders invading, each causing death and destruction in their wake.  Personal stories of St. Benedict exist through the efforts of Pope Gregory the Great, who wrote about Benedict extensively.  Gregory in fact points out that "Benedict helped others achieve peace in the minutiae of ordinary life." 

This notion which resembles greatly 'The Little Way" of St. Therese who we will be studying more in-depth during the summer seems to be a recurrent theme with some of the holiest of our saints.  It appears that the love of Christ so permeated their lives, that every small action, gesture, conversation, desire and moment became an opportunity for living in God.

In his little cave in Subiaco, "Benedict came to understand in his every molecular cell, step, and breath that hours, days, and minutes do not belong to the human race."  This sense of our need to give our time to God is another common theme among our saints.  "Benedict's rule teaches that the only true way to yield to time is by praising God and praying for others."  Several times a day the Benedictines honor and praise God by stopping their work and simply worshiping Him who is all for all.

The book brings to life this brother of ours in faith in a way that I as a reader, felt that I had gained another good friend in my journey to the heavenly Jerusalem.  It reminds me of our riches in the Church and how good God has been to give us so many holy examples to follow.  The worlds that these mean and women lived in had their own challenges and evils. 

As we journey through our own period of time, let us realize that the evils we see so manifest in our society are the recycled ills that befell all the human race when Adam and Eve disobeyed Our Lord in the garden and have been plaguing mankind since that time. 

I have seen traditional marriage going the way of abortion, euthanasia and so many other gifts from our God that were meant for our good but now are used for evil.  Let us remember that we can appeal to these real people in heaven who 'have our backs' and will help us to navigate the turbulent waters of society and time.  Some day others will come after us who will also live in the light and will look around in bewilderment at the darkness crouched at their door.  Let's hope we are in a place where we can help them with our prayers as we now look to the prayers of our brothers and sisters in heaven.

Peace, Sisters

Take My Heart Lord

Dear Sisters,

I am currently reading Sr. Faustina's Diary.  Sometimes when I am reading something the saints have written, I feel a real pang of sweet pain for the love they have for our Lord.  It reminds me that I have a long way to go.

In Sr. Faustina's Diary (No. 57), she says "Oh, if I could only cut my heart into tiny pieces and in this way offer to You, O Jesus each piece as a heart whole and entire to make up in part for the hearts that do not love You!"

Imagine, each tiny piece of her heart a whole and complete loving heart to offer the Lord to make up for so many that don't give Jesus any part of their hearts.  This lovely thought struck so powerfully that it kept coming up at odd times to remind me to love Jesus in every moment as well as I can.

Today as the Eucharist was being distributed, it occurred to me that Jesus too cuts himself into tiny pieces so that each of us can have all of him 'body, blood, soul and divinity' in each and every host.

This reminds me that as we come to know and love Jesus more, we become more like Him and so it flows naturally and beautifully that we want to do for Him what He already does for us.

My nature is to 'do-do-do'.  At work I am pulled in dozens of directions.  I give of myself to my husband, my children, my family, my friends, my co-workers, the families I serve...but all?  Not usually.  I give some of my attention, some of my strength, some of my kindness, some of my love.  Instead of cutting myself into WHOLE tiny pieces and giving all to each endeavor, I cut myself into
selfish little pieces and tell myself that it is enough. 

Imagine if Jesus did that?  Instead of offering himself wholly and completely on the cross, imagine if he held some of himself back?  We would be right back where we started in the Garden, following the snake instead of our Father.

So today, I ask Jesus to grant me the grace to be 'all in'.  Not to do as Dusty Springfield
suggests and only give 'a little piece of my heart', but to do as Sr. Faustina suggests and give all to all and in that way imitate He who is Love.

Wishing you all peace on this beautiful Sunday!

03/09 weekend retreat at the Redemptorist Center Tucson with Kristi, Maria, Belinda, Terri and Ellen

WITNESS-Conclusion

WITNESS-CONCLUSION

The carpet in the large apartment was a dusky blue.  I ran from room to room to see it all.  How different it all looked.  The ceilings were low not tall like back home, there was carpet not tile on the floors, except for the linoleum of the kitchen and the octagon shaped white and black tiles in the bathroom.  If I dragged my feet, my skirt would stick to my legs and a current of electricity would shock anyone I touched.  Some of the windows looked onto the brick walls of the apartments next door.  The kitchen window looked out to a screened porch and beyond there was a tiny square yard, frozen over like everything else in this cold place.  The front windows were my favorite because they looked out to a park filled with naked trees and covered in layers of snow.  The rooms were all empty of furniture.  Mami looked about with a bewildered look.  Where would we sleep?  Where would we eat?  Papi hugged her close and then pulled the rest of us to them.  We were together.  At last, we were all together.  The rest would work out in Dios’ time.

A knock on door broke us apart.  Papi opened the door to a miracle.  A truck sat on the icy road in front of the apartment building.  The man at the door had a chair in his arms and behind him were more men and woman carrying things.  And what things they were!!  Beds, mattresses, sofa, chairs, tables and more chairs made their way through the door.  Mami had shaken off her shock and was now using sign language to gesture where to put the items.  My brothers and sisters put their coats and boots back on and helped bring the things in. 

There were bags of warm clothes.  I quickly found a pair of boy’s boots just my size.  I kicked off my blue shoes and stepped into their warmth.  In the kitchen two ladies were filling up the pantry with food.  Plates, utensils, pots and pans came next.  Mami hugged the women to her and debuted her English “sank ju!, sank ju!”(Thank you)  I came to understand that all these wonderful people had come from the local parish.  This was their welcome to the newest immigrants to their country.  My father thanked everyone again and again.  Tears shined brightly in his dark eyes.  My brothers and sisters were speaking English with everyone and I yearned to understand what they were saying.

That night we were all together for the first time in  what had seemed like years.   We were warm, our bellies and our hearts were full.  We had been welcomed and embraced by our new faith community to this strange land of cold and ice.  My angel told me that I wouldn’t be seeing him/her much longer.  I had my family now and all the new, kind people that God was putting in my life.  But my angel had been there for me when I was scared and lonely.  I didn’t want him/her to go.  “I will never leave you.  You can talk to me anytime.  I will help you always if you let me.  Call on me, I will be here.  You and I will be companions in this life and the next.”

I knew that I was loved by my family and God.  I was safe and all my needs were met.  I let myself feel the happiness and as I slept, dreamed of blue skies framed by palm trees.

  

WITNESS-Part V

WINTESS-Part V

The blue-gray expanse of sky illuminated the stark landscape.  The trees looked like black sticks and the grass was white under a layer of ice and snow.  Going through the gangway had chilled me to the bone and I shook like a plucked wire.  My skirt and sweater weren’t up to the task of keeping me warm.  Our breath came out in white puffs that reminded me of Papi smoking a cigar.

Love had brought us to this cold place.  Love of family.  When my parents inquired with the nice Americanos that ran the Catholic Charities, they were told that my brothers and sisters had been sent to foster families in Chicago.  Mami and I didn’t speak a word of English, but most folks we met had treated us kindly.  I was weary from all the travel, hungry and now so very cold.

I laid my head on my father’s shoulder as he carried me through the cold tunnel out to the terminal.  Ahead was noise and confusion.  People were greeting their loved ones as they left the plane.  I could hear the screamed “Mami! Papi!” from somewhere in the crowd and then we were a mass of arms and legs, tears and laughter, hugs and pats.  Mami and Papi cried tears of joy as they held all of us.  Mel had grown a foot.  He was now taller than Emi.  Tata and Yeye had long hair.  They were all dressed in heavy coats, scarves, hats, boots and there were gloves poking from their pockets.  I was passed around to the boys, but Tata held me the longest.  Even Yeye looked happy to see me. 

We were introduced to the foster parents.  Emi and Mel had gone to live with a kind and generous Cuban family that had emigrated in the 1950’s.  Tata and Yeye were living with a wonderful American family.  I saw my angel peak out from the edge of the group.  One blue eye winked at me and sent me a wide smile that told me that everything would be okay now.  There wasn’t a soldier in sight.

WITNESS-Part IV

WITNESS-Part IV

My favorite blue shoes made a clicking sound as I struggled to keep up with Mami’s hurried gait.  Her hand clutched mine tightly.  Mami had told me to hush so many times that I was all but mute.  She had resorted to putting her hand over my mouth to remind me to be still.  How can she expect me to be still?” I thought.

Papi held papers in his hands as we waited in line.  In front and behind us were lots of families, suitcases in hand waiting to get on the airplane that shone brightly in the noon day sun.  A current of nervousness traveled through the air.  Short whispered conversations could be heard.  In the long, wide hall were a row of soldiers, carrying their guns and looking in our direction.  I heard a muttered “Gusano! (worm)” from a soldier who spat on the ground before putting his cigar back into his mouth.  I looked up at my mother, who had turned pale at the utterance by the soldier.  She pulled me tightly to her side. 

Our turn finally came to speak with the man at the table.  He wore glasses and had kindly eyes.  “They are leaving us so young,” he commented sadly as he looked at me pressed up next to Mami.  The soldier next to him gestured towards my father’s hand.  After a heated exchange of words, Papi turned to Mami and told her to take off her wedding ring.  My father took their rings and dropped them over the table where they clinked loudly before they rolled to the floor. Then he took my mother’s arm and we headed out the door into the sunshine.

All the people on the plane gave a cheer of utter joy as the ground pulled away and we went up, up, up into the blue sky.  I sat next to Mami, nose pressed to the window.  The propellers on the plane moved so fast that I couldn’t see the individual blades. And the roar they made had me screaming to be heard.  Mami gave me a genuine smile, a smile I hadn’t seen for a long, long time.  I wondered if my angel would fly to America too. 

WITNESS-Part III

WITNESS-Part III

Intense blue met my startled gaze.  Then a smile like sunshine radiated from a beautiful face.  I smiled back.  My innermost being understood that this friend had been sent by Papa Dios to help me endure the scorching loneliness that I had felt since my siblings had disappeared from my life.  An angel; he or she was an angel to bring me hope.

My friend spent a lot of time with me each day.  I couldn’t tell if the angel was a girl or a boy as he or she was dressed in a gown of searing white.  It didn’t matter.  My friend had time to hear what I had to say.  My friend would play with me when my mother was so sad that she couldn’t get out of bed or my father came home late, tottering on his feet as if he were just learning to walk, scaring me with the noise he made as he knocked things over until he could fall into bed.

I told my angel all my hurts.  I shared stories of my hometown and my life before the soldiers came.  I told my angel about my brothers and sisters and about our neighbors; about the little park in the town square where we were allowed to play after dinner each night.  About the sweet man that owned the dime store next to our house.  All the little details of a way of living that were fading away day by day. 

My angel friend would listen patiently and would always tell me that God loved me very much.  I would see my brothers and sisters again, but I needed to be patient and very good, obeying my parents, even when they weren’t acting like themselves. 

One day a visitor came to see my father.  I almost didn’t recognize him as it had been so long since I had seen him.  He looked old, much older than my father and yet he was younger.  Tio, Papi’s younger brother, had come to have a talk with my father.  He greeted my mother in an odd manner and rubbed my head.  Before I would have run to him and he would have thrown me in the air, but now I felt a chasm between us, all of us and him.  I looked at my angel friend.  Sad blue eyes looked back at me.

The two men went into my parent’s room and shut the door.  Arms crossed my mother paced from window to window.  I could hear the men whispering and wondered what this new development could mean for us.  Finally, the door opened.  Tio nodded to Mami, gave me a long, piercing look and then went out the door.  I turned to see my father wipe tears from his eyes.