Category: Catholic

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”.

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

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

Catholic Christianity

More Than Bread and Fish

In the Gospel of John, Jesus displays His ability to take even our smallest offering and multiply it a thousand times over. This is striking to be sure, but today a less obvious aspect of the passage had a grip on my attention:
Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining,
and also as much of the fish as they wanted. JN 6:10-11
Something about the word recline and the image of 5,000 people resting in the grass eating bread and fish captivated me. Why not sit? Why not stand in line to be served?
By the time of Jesus, the Roman custom of reclining at supper had been adopted in some Jewish circles. Bending the left arm in order to support their upper body, they were able to recline and eat with their right hand. Reclining indicated leisure and freedom.

Recline. That was the posture Jesus wanted the crowd of 5,000 people to be in when He served them supper. When He said, “Have the people recline” it was without exception. It didn’t matter who was in the crowd, what they had done or failed to do, all were fed until they were full. And being the good host He is, His gift was so plentiful that after everyone had their fill, there were leftovers!
Recline. Be free of the worries of the world. Savor the moment. Allow Him to nourish you. Recline and trust that He will make miracles happen in order to provide you not only with what you need, but enough to spill over so that you might share with others.

~~Sheila LaSalle

Tags communion, spirituality

Catholic Christianity Saints Spirituality

Vulnerable Uncertainty

Recently, a friend expressed a dryness in his faith and described feeling a vulnerable uncertainty of the future. I thought, How utterly blessed he is! Why? Because the reality is that all of life is uncertain and we truly are vulnerable, but the world and our own willful determination often convince us otherwise and we ignore the truth. Acknowledging this truth places us on the precipice, positioning us to take that perfect leap of faith, a free-fall into a holy detachment.

Brother Lawrence was a Carmelite monk during the 17th century. He worked in the kitchen and was said to have transformed drudgery into devotion. “…in the noise and clatter of my kitchen…I possess God in as great a tranquility as if I were on my knees at the Blessed Sacrament.” (The Practice of the Presence of God). His collected letters reveal that his awareness of God’s presence led to a silent, but continual, conversation with the divine. It also enabled him to become indifferent to what life might bring and abandon his sense of self as he focused on the love of God.

I am not certain what dry valley brought Brother Lawrence to his precipice, but I do know that at some point, most of us will encounter our own. Whether it be the cessation of a career, or relationship, the death of a loved one, or a parent’s “empty nest”, at some point we become stripped of how we once defined ourselves, our role in life, and what brought us meaning. It is here that we may enter into that dryness of faith, but it is also here where we have our greatest opportunity. This is when we have the opportunity to no longer concern ourselves with a defined role but to simply and wonderfully become a vessel for God’s love; to no longer worry about what life might bring, but to encounter every task and every person placed before us as God sent; to trust that His grace will be sufficient for every challenge we may encounter. It is also our opportunity to wait in peace until God reveals His will.

It isn’t always easy. For several weeks I have been torn about whether or not to apply for a new position at work. I’ve been an instructional coach for 3 years at a middle school, working with Language Arts teachers. I enjoy my work and find it fulfilling. However, another opportunity is on the horizon which excites me with the prospect of new challenges and opportunities for professional growth. I’ve told people that I’m praying about it. But I haven’t exactly been at peace while I’ve waited for God to reveal what He wants me to do. The peaceful wait and discernment requires us to listen, to remain in His presence regardless of where we are, what task is at hand. And although I have prayed about it, I truly haven’t abandoned “my wants” or “needs” in the process. I also haven’t abdicated the “decision” entirely to God. If I had, instead of saying, “I’m torn. I can’t decide,” my response would be, “I’m waiting to see what God wants me to do.” Sheesh! And this isn’t even a valley! Or perhaps it is…

Perhaps it is Christ inviting me to the precipice, encouraging me to free fall into holy detachment, to let go of my will and impression of who I think I am supposed to be, and relish the vulnerable uncertainty as I practice being in the presence of God.

~Sheila LaSalle

Tags faithfulness, saints

Catholic RCIA Spirituality

He Knew You

Before He sang the stars into existence,
before He separated mist from the sea,
He knew you.

Before He broke the bread and took the cup
before He said, Do This in Remembrance of Me,
He knew you.

Before He carried a cross through dusty streets,
before iron nailed his palms and feet,
He knew you.

He knew your struggles, your search for refuge
and for your whole life,
He’s loved you.

He’s loved you whether you be saddened or elated
and for your whole life,
He’s waited.

He’s waited for this very day, for You
to come to His banquet, enter in and forever more
feast on Him.
Sheila LaSalle

Tags communion

Catholic Christianity RCIA Saints

The Persistence of a Saint

Post author By SheilaLaSalle
Post date July 2, 2015
No Comments on The Persistence of a Saint

Growing up, celebrating All Saints Day involved much more than dressing up in a costume on the first of November. For weeks leading up to the celebration, each student chose a saint to research and write a report. The culminating activity: dressing up as that saint on All Saints Day.

Upon entering the school library, girls with names like Theresa and Monica rushed to the saint section to find the saint that shared their name. Not a strong reader yet, I waited for them to select their books before I searched the bottom stack of picture books for a saint named Sheila. “Looks like I’m off the hook,” I told a friend, “there’s no saint Sheila.” Within minutes, most of my classmates heard my declaration, as well as the librarian, and I was instructed to choose a saint from the collection anyway. Book after book, every cover captured a smiling saint in the image of perfection. Clean and tidy. They must have been born perfect, I thought and I found it difficult to look at them. I was a tom-boy. I played Little League baseball, and spit. Scuffed knees and dirt under my finger nails was a badge of honor. I looked nothing like these saints, and I was far from having the patience of a saint, a term I heard my mother use to describe my older sister, named after Saint Catherine. Then and there, I determined that I was not born a saint, would never be perfect, and my mother knew it when she named me Sheila.

Not until I was far into my adulthood did I get to know any of the saints. I learned that they really didn’t start out wholesome and perfect. But what made them a saint was that at some point in their life they turned toward God, embraced the Trinity, and lived their life dedicated to Christ. It was this dedication that resulted in a holy communion with God in heaven. Around this time, I heard a priest define a saint as a friend of God, which is when It all began to make sense. If someone were to be with God after passing from this life, it stood to reason they would be a friend of God during this life also.

It requires a certain dedication to develop and maintain a friendship. Consider the effort we put into our friendships, the hours spent being together, the countless conversations. Over time, as we gain new responsibilities and are pulled in other directions, it requires a certain persistence if we intend for our friendships to last.

As a friend of God, saints also engaged in this behavior. Their faithfulness was more than keeping the commandments and being a “good person”. Their faithfulness was evident in their persistence and dedication to their relationship with Christ.

To be a friend of God and come into union with Him, it is not the patience of a saint we need to adopt, but rather the persistence and dedication of a saint.

Sheila LaSalle

Tags communion, faithfulness, saints

Catholic Christianity RCIA

Come Holy Spirit fill us with your Love

Post author By SheilaLaSalle
Post date July 1, 2015
3 Comments on Come Holy Spirit fill us with your Love

“…the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us” (Rom 5:5)

If I only knew…. If I could go back and do it all over again…. I wish I would have held my tongue….

Most of us have experienced regret. “If I spent less money on trivial trinkets and clothes, I would have more disposable income to share with my neighbor who just lost her job.” “If I only knew the last time I saw my son was really going to be the last time, I would have expressed how proud I was of him and hugged him a little longer.” “If I had been less self-conscious and prideful, I would have asked for help and life today may be quite different.” Regret may indeed be a part of the human condition, but why?

Because we are not perfect, our actions are not always rooted in a spirit of love. But as Christians, we are called to something greater, we are called to have a loving spirit which requires more than being a nice person. And I don’t think we can manufacture it on our own.

In Hebrew, the word for spirit is ruah, meaning breath, air, wind. When we pray, asking for the Holy Spirit to fill us, we are essentially asking to be filled with that breath of love so powerful it took on a life of its own. We are asking for the most ancient love of all to reside in us, to take up residence, to live there. So that as we encounter the maze of human trials and relationships, both personal and societal, we do so with a love that surpasses what we alone can summon.

Sheila LaSalle

Tags Holy Spirit

Catholic Christianity RCIA

Icons Among Us: Why do Catholics do That?

Post author By SheilaLaSalle
Post date June 23, 2015
No Comments on Icons Among Us: Why do Catholics do That?

Before I returned to the Catholic Church, I began to collect small statues of Mary. My husband, a wood carver and devout Protestant at the time, started the collection with a six inch wooden replica of our Blessed Mother with her hands outstretched. I found it comforting to have her “around”. But I never prayed near her and with the exception of dusting and rearranging, I never touched her. I found the act of touching the feet of Jesus or kissing the cross to be an archaic, left-over tradition from centuries past when mankind had not connected the dots between exposure and contagious disease. So when I first knelt before the statue of Jesus in St. Joseph’s chapel on Mt. Royal in Montreal, I never intended to join the long line of people waiting to do just that. I watched them. When they finally came before him, some clung while some barely grazed his feet with their fingertips, but no one pulled out a handy wipe before or after.

When the line dwindled down to one person, my husband leaned over and asked me if I was going to “go up”. I thought of all the crutches that lined the walls in the entrance to the Oratory, each one bore witness to a miracle. In a burst of humility, I stood up and approached the ceramic Jesus.

Touched by so many before me, his feet hardly resembled feet, but I held them anyway and prayed. The act of treating an inanimate “person” with as much reverence as I would a live being reminded me of the night I held my twenty year old son Luke, six days after his unexpected death.

While my father sat beside him, quietly praying the rosary, I stood as close as I could, without climbing into the coffin, and placed my hand on his chest. He felt doll like, very un-real, and yet, I didn’t want to withdraw my hand. Turning to whisper to anyone else in the room, moving to the left or right so that my husband and other family members could see him, I kept my hand attached to some part of his body. I touched him with no less love than I did when he was a little boy sleeping, because touching the place that once housed his spirit was meaningful.

Four and a half years later, I find that same meaning when I gaze at pictures of him. Pictures serve as a reminder that he was here, that the love and laughter he shared was real, and that I’ll see him again, God willing.

As Catholics, we do not pray to statues. But statues serve as a reminder of the realness of the one it resembles. Just as with every image of our Blessed Mother that I placed in my home also included my plea, lead me to your son, kissing a cross or clinging in deep prayer to the feet of a ceramic Christ is a very real example of the spiritual gesture we are engaging in.

~Sheila LaSalle

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