Author: SheilaLaSalle

Gifts my Mother Gave Me

The U.S. had just entered the Vietnam War when I was born. Until the age of ten, news about the war served as background noise from the television during dinnertime. On outings with my mother, I’d occasionally be stopped in my tracks by someone in a grocery store who was missing a limb, or in a wheelchair. Where I stared, my mother’s response was always, “That’s a cross he’ll bear for the rest of his life.” At the time, I was old enough to know the story of Jesus bearing the cross, but I was also young enough to be confused as to how any of these men would be able to carry a cross like Jesus. Keeping in mind that even Jesus got help along the way.

My mother used this phrase a lot, and not only about men. She used it so much so that it became my secret game during our outings. Because not everyone had a visible wound or scar, I’d predict how many times she would say, “That’s a cross she’ll bear for the rest of her life” and whom she would say it about. Sometimes this phrase was accompanied with sadness in her voice, but never with a hopeless tone. For the other phrase, the phrase she used often and well into her remaining years was “deal with it”.

Having a few of my own crosses, I’ve discovered some hidden blessings. We quickly learn they are difficult to carry alone and that perhaps, we are not meant to bear them alone in silence. After all, why the Biblical example of Jesus getting help along the way if not to serve as a reminder that we may need help bearing our own crosses?

Eventually, after some time of “dealing with it” we learn how to balance the weight of it on our shoulders, how to walk with it, how to be alive despite it and not merely survive it.

Reflecting on those outings with my mother, my heart is full of gratitude for the gift she gave me when she acknowledged–in a quite matter-of-fact manner–that part of going through this life is about bearing the weight of the crosses we are given. There is a certain peace that comes with such acceptance, a peace that allows one to embrace and “deal with it”.

Uncategorized

Stress = Wine

Source: Stress = Wine

Christianity unity writing

What Am I Doing Here?

On Easter Sundays, my whole family went to Mass together. First my older sister filed in, then my dad, my three older brothers, and then my mother–who held my baby brother. I got the end, closest to the aisle. I also got the Pinch in the armpit when I misbehaved. The Pinch was accompanied by my mother’s thick Boston accent in my ear, “Knack it off, or you’ll get a licken in front of God and Everybody.” I knew what a licken was but I’d never had one. Still, I was pretty sure it would hurt–which didn’t bother me so much as the idea that to get a licken meant my bum would be exposed in church, during Mass, in front of Everybody–including God.

I quickly learned that baring oneself involved a bit of shame. So, what am I doing here, blogging and baring myself in thought and word in such a permanent way? And why now?

Perhaps, I am here now because I recently turned 50 and am much less inhibited. Yet the truth is, I choose to bare myself before God and Everybody because I realize that we are all on the same journey travelling different paths but for the one moment when you read something that I write and it touches your spirit, and I read something you write that enhances my own.

What I’m doing here is seeking out and sharing nourishment for the pilgrimage—because it isn’t easy and it is rarely pretty.

~Sheila LaSalle

Tags spirituality, writing101

Christianity loss

On Grief and Faith–Redux

Grief splinters and breaks us. Yet, it also provides us with the opportunity to allow for the light of faith to seep into the crevices and renew us.

Tags addiction, Grief, writing101

Catholic Christianity

Open Letter to a Grieving Mother

Post author By SheilaLaSalle
Post date September 22, 2015
13 Comments on Open Letter to a Grieving Mother

I know your loss.

I know how suddenly it feels as if something shifted, as if the air were let out of the room, and you are left to struggle in your attempt to walk upright in a now tilted world.

I know your anger. I know the desire to slam the wall and shake a fist at God.

I know the ache, not just in your heart but in your whole body.

I know how grief, years later, can be like a rogue wave that catches you unaware and takes your breath away when you least expect it.

I know that our mind and spirit can only handle so much at one time. One moment, you will catch yourself laughing and realize just how long it has been since you felt like laughing and the next, you may catch a glimpse of someone who resembled some part of your child and you will want to cry.

I know that because it goes against the natural circle of life, we may never completely absorb such an inconceivable loss.

I also know another mother who endured the agony of watching her child suffer. Her name is Mary, the mother of Jesus. Powerless, she endured the agony of watching her son beaten, crowned with thorns, and nailed to a cross. As a mother, I imagine she felt each lashing, each piercing, rip through her heart.

She knows our loss. She knows our pain. She knows our suffering.

~~Sheila LaSalle

Tags Blessed Mother, Grief, writing101

Christianity vinticulture

Stress = Wine

Living in wine country, I am blessed with the option of driving to work along a trail of wineries. If I leave early enough I am able to catch the day bloom, chrome like, with coils of light needling through the swollen arms of grape vines. This summer, weeks of triple digit heat stressed many to the point of an early vintage. Here I find an interesting similarity to consider: overabundance of stress prematurely ages the grape as well as people. To some degree we have the capacity to be proactive and can control the amount of stress in our lives. Yet, we all encounter seasons where stress comes in triple digits and is relentless. During such a season, it can be tempting to question, why does life have to be so hard, so painful, so unforgiving? We may even question God. Do you really love me? If so, why this trial, why this pain?

It is stress that brings out the sugar in the grape, it is stress that brings the fruit to its full potential, and it is stress that ultimately brings forth a beautiful wine. When we find ourselves in a season of triple digit stress, perhaps a better question to ask is: what beautiful wine might come of this?

~Sheila LaSalle

Tags wine, Writing 101

Uncategorized

The Baseball

This is the last night you’ll shimmy under cars,

Scrape your arms to grab a foul ball, or

Wear the imprint of gravel on your legs when

You race to the concession stand for the free treat.

You will no longer split the thin sheet of bubble gum, or

Hope for a Boston Red Sox trading card on the inside wrapper

It is the last night you’ll jump at the sound of a cracked bat

Hear the clap of a ball as it lands in a leather mitt, or

Linger among the swelling wave of voices from the crowd

Rising from the mist of hamburger grease and cigarette smoke

This is the last night you’ll stand at the top of the bleachers

And spit sunflower seed shells over the side of the railing

You don’t know it yet but this is the last night

You will ever spit in front of anyone again

But the boy in front of you, the one who spent a whole afternoon and

Three rolls of masking tape to make a ball for your whiffle bat,

The boy who now offers you half his pack of M&Ms

Because he remembers that you like sweet after salty—

He sees the girl you don’t yet recognize

The girl who will leave her glove on the top shelf of her closet

The girl who will ask her mother to buy her a skirt and

A purse to hold lip gloss, perfume, and a plastic comb

You don’t know this yet, but it is the baseball you’ll miss most.

The grass streaked, gray from dust and spit, and

So worn its red stitching is frayed—

That baseball

The one bitten by a bat again and again, polished

In musk oil and leather until it feels like suede—

That baseball

What you’ll miss most is the weight of it in your hand

~Sheila LaSalle

Tags Baseball, Poetry

Christianity Spirituality

Vision of the Joyful Prince

Post author By SheilaLaSalle
Post date September 6, 2015
No Comments on Vision of the Joyful Prince

It was dark. Crowds of people gathered behind the locked gates of prison cells. Many were well groomed and well dressed. Reading the newspaper, chatting among themselves, or looking at their phone, they appeared to be making the best of the situation. No one was especially happy or unhappy. Suddenly, there was a bright laugh from the far end of the prison. As the laughter increased, so did the light. I finally saw him, a joyful prince ran through the dungeon, laughing as he unlocked the prison gates, one by one. With each gate he unlocked, the prison became lighter. Repeatedly, he shouted you’re free! You can leave! You don’t have to stay here!

But many did stay. They didn’t recognize this prince and so they didn’t trust him. They were packed in with others that, regardless of their faults, were at least familiar. They knew the contours of the prison cell and there would be no surprises. They decided it was better to stay put. Some were so preoccupied with their cell phones that they didn’t even notice his arrival or the fact that he’d unlocked the gates.

One woman, clinging tightly to the edges of her fur coat, wanted to follow him but she felt glued in place. She thought, if he’d only reach in and grab me… As she thought this, he looked back at her and spoke to her heart. “I have freed you, I have set the place for you, but you must choose to follow on your own free will. No one wants a lover they have to drag out from behind the bars.”

It required all her might to take one step.

“I wouldn’t go,” said someone standing next to her. “When you get out into that light, you don’t know what you’re going to see-about the world or worse, about yourself.” She saw the prince dancing down the hall, unlocking other prison cells. From some cells, throngs of people rushed forth into the hall. Exuberant. “So what are you going to do?” the stranger next to her prodded.

She wanted to see the joyful prince again, and she wanted to experience the same joy of following him that she saw on the faces of others who chose to follow. She let the fur coat fall to the ground and took a step forward.

Some times after Communion, I see things. This story is from one of those times.

~Sheila LaSalle

Tags communion

Catholic Christianity Saints

High Jinx and Rule Breaking=The Making of a Saint

Post author By SheilaLaSalle
Post date August 15, 2015
1 Comment on High Jinx and Rule Breaking=The Making of a Saint

In 1926, when the churches were closed and priests went into hiding, Blessed Miguel Pro secretly served the Catholics in Mexico. He would arrive in the middle of the night dressed as a beggar to baptize an infant, bless a marriage, or celebrate Mass. He’d walk into the jail, dressed as a police officer and bring Holy Viaticum to condemned Catholics. When going to more wealthy neighborhoods to procure for the poor, he disguised himself as a successful business man with a flower in his lapel. In order to serve the spiritual and temporal needs of the people, he had to think outside the box.

Serving as a priest during this time required him to be both creative and daring. So it is not surprising to read that as a child his intense mischievousness and frequent practical jokes exasperated his family. A fearless sense of adventure was part of his nature and although he was very spiritual at a young age, this aspect of himself was not stifled.

On the day of his execution, he faced the firing squad without a blindfold, stretched his arms wide, forgave them, and proclaimed Viva Cristo Rey, “Long live Christ the King!”

Today, if Miguel were in an American classroom, he might be considered “naughty” or worse, slapped with a label: Attention Deficit with Hyperactivity Disorder. He might spend his recess time “on the wall” or in the principal’s office after causing trouble or a “distraction”.

Let us be careful not to label a child or assume their character is troublesome. For the qualities inherent in one prone to daring precociousness and high jinx are the same qualities it takes to be a servant of God, an ambassador for Christ, in the midst of persecution.

~~Sheila LaSalle

Tags communion, faithfulness

Catholic Christianity RCIA Spirituality

I’ll Take You As You Are

I grew up Catholic in the ‘70’s. My Bible came in chunks which were read aloud at weekly Mass. From time to time I talked to God, but I could better quote from the book, I’m Okay, You’re Okay more than any Bible verse. I went to confession on a fairly regular basis but was too self-absorbed to recognize the philosophical incongruence between my choice of reading material and my faith. Not until much later, after a failed marriage and numerous other mistakes, did I admit for certain I wasn’t Okay.
Despite the fact that I was far from Okay, I’d find myself compelled to share stories where Grace overrode the ugliness. At times I felt convicted, a hypocrite. But sometimes I’d hear that quiet whisper: it’s okay, I’ll take you as you are.

Who is out there to do His bidding but the flawed and scarred? Since no one leaves this life without their share of mistakes and pain we are all “eligible”.

Before Communion we say, Lord, I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed. Here is where we admit our brokenness and submit all we are to Love.

Sometimes I imagine I hear Him say, I will take you in your brokenness. I will take you in your weakness. I will take you with every scar. I will take you with every flaw. I will take you, not despite these conditions, but because they are part of the human condition and I love you.

~~Sheila LaSalle

Tags communion

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