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Catholic Christianity loss Mothers Spirituality unity

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”.

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Christianity Spirituality

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

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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

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Christianity RCIA Saints Spirituality

Mary Magdalene Showed Up

July 22nd, is the Memorial of Saint Mary Magdalene.   According to the Gospel of John, it was Mary Magdalene to whom Christ first appeared and spoke to after His resurrection.

On the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. … as she wept, she bent over into the tomb and saw two angels in white sitting there… She said to them, “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” She thought it was the gardener and said to him, “Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni,” which means Teacher…

Why Mary Magdalene and not Peter? I can’t even speculate the answer to that, but I believe we can find answers to other questions with which we grapple within the context of the original question: why her? Questions such as, how do I live, on a day to day basis, as a Christian within a secular society? How am I supposed to move forward in my life after tragedy and loss? How do I acquire that burning love or that burning faith that the disciples and saints shared?

Mary came to the tomb while it was still dark. Imagine what that alone must have been like. Consider the wilderness, the hungry, nocturnal wildlife roaming about the land. Her deep craving for Christ outweighed any fear, or struggle, or threat. Despite the darkness, despite her grief, she went to him. She showed up. Love knows no limits. When we struggle, encounter a tragedy or loss, those who truly love us show up. This is the love that Mary Magdalene displayed. And I believe this is the answer to the questions that we encounter from time to time.

How do I live, on a day to day basis, as a Christian within a secular society? Show up. Read scripture, pray. As Catholics, we have the privilege to engage in an encounter with Christ, in the highest form of prayer, on a daily basis: the Mass.

How am I supposed to move forward in my life after tragedy and loss? Show up. Even when our grief is blinding and every forward step feels daunting, we need to show up because that is the most surefooted path to a healing encounter with the risen Christ.

How do I acquire that burning love or that burning faith so many others have shared? Again, show up. We choose which relationships we do, or do not, nurture in life.

Reading on, although she spoke to him, Mary didn’t recognize Jesus until He said her name. Showing up, despite the unknown, despite our pain, despite our secular apathay is only the first half of the equation. Once we do show up, we must listen.

~~Sheila LaSalle

Categories
Catholic Christianity Saints Spirituality

Vulnerable Uncertainty

sunsetVulnerable 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

 

 

Categories
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

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