good for the soul

holy cards and trading cards and OCD devotions

I’ve got like this holy corner on my desk. It didn’t start that way. There was probably a rosary, maybe two, thrown in there out of the way, with a couple of loose crucifixes for twine rosary-making. A holy card joined the collection, then another, and finally, I threw it all together in a little basket.

I’m pretty sure I need a bigger basket.

photo (8)

I assure you I didn’t start out to be a collector of holy cards and other tiny religious objects — it just kind of caught up with me, not unlike my 50th birthday. It just happened. One day I was a carefree, spiritually messy 20-year-old, and then, BAM, I’m a 50+ year-old church lady, posting about holy cards and secretly (and diligently) praying novenas for your salvation. Yes, yours. Don’t worry, I got your back.

As if that wasn’t enough, I have a traveling collection of holy cards that spill out of my journal. Those are my go-to cards, let’s call them my essential prayers and devotions.

I was at my parents’ for a nice visit over Christmas, and my dad came out of the bedroom with a pile of cards, whining about feeling like his morning devotions were getting out of hand and shows me a handful of cards. I pretty much called him a lightweight and showed him my little collection in my journal.

photo (7)

My mom, the greatest straight man I’ve ever known, sucked her teeth and judged us. Hard. She got up and disappeared into their bedroom and came out with the epic collection, full of tattered cards and laminated ones in addition to pamphlets of novenas and plastic colorful rosaries. She wins.

Am I scaring you a little? Yeah. I’m a little amused that it has come to this, too. But relax, it’s good. I like it. It makes me feel good, this prayer thing. You could give it a try, too.

 

Happy Christmas

Screen Shot 2013-12-25 at 12.52.42 AM

In years past I’ve left a Christmas Carol here for you, or maybe, my favorite clip from A Charlie Brown Christmas — you know the one -Linus reciting the story of the Nativity of Our Lord.

When my kids were very tiny, we used to tell them the story of Christmas using the sturdy resin nativity set we had. The kids would play with the pieces, marching the Magi across the living room, placing the ass and the cow in the makeshift stable we created. They’d move Joseph and Mary throughout the living room, too, until they found the manger and Jesus was born! And the little lambs, with the iconic shepherd carrying a tiny lamb on his back, were always placed near the front, close to the baby Jesus.

One year when one of our kids was months old, John and I actually participated in a live nativity at our parish.

When the kids were older, we read from the Gospel of Luke, and then eventually, they’d read it themselves. Did you ever wonder what was going on in Bethlehem outside the stable? They often asked.

This year, Elizabeth Scalia has given us a beautiful insight into what that moment might have been like. From the frightening sounds of the unknown in the night, to the raw reality of a shepherd’s life, to the tender invitation to come closer. Because really, isn’t that what Christ wants from us? For us to come closer?

Read this moving story…it starts with the shepherd tending to a wounded sheep, and then, it explodes with amazing imagery:

My little cousin and I watch as my uncle washes away the blood, and examines the wound. He is making that odd breathless noise—halfway between a gasp of surprise and a sigh of regret—that he always makes when an attack has been thwarted. My uncle, after all, is nearly forty; an old man long past the charms of making his bed upon the chill earth at night; disenchanted with stargazing while wolves in the dark distance howl, or creep in silence, just beyond our sight.

Read the rest of Elizabeth Scalia’s “A Shepherd I Will Remain” here. It will become a classic story you’ll want to share. I promise.

.

on fire for Christmas!

photo-10

 

How’s your Advent been?

I’ve had one of the calmest, slowest (in a good way), simplest Advents in a very long time. An Advent filled with prayer and holy reading. An Advent that has touched me in moving ways I couldn’t have anticipated. In short, it’s been a month of such peace and quiet in my heart and soul that I hate to see it go.

John and I have been taking turns reading from Lisa Hendey’s O Radiant Dawn and enjoying, so far, 21 candlelit dinners. It’s been a lovely way to slow down in the evenings, especially in a time in our lives when it would have been easier to take dinner in the living room while watching The X-Factor.

I do believe that the discipline of using a prayer resource, together, contributed to the overall simplicity of this season.

Of course, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a little drama in there. I did set fire to the Advent wreath today. We were just having a nice brunch…the usual, some eggs, a little bacon, some tasty home fries.

And then the conversation got a little weird, even for us.

John: Is there water in that vase with the tree cuttings?

Me, pleased with my amazing Pinterest-inspired creativity: Nope, I used those pretty, clear little stones.

John: I think it’s burning.

So, I set fire to the Advent wreath.

Yeah. That.

Don’t worry, all is well. I’m just saying that book should carry a warning label.

20131222_164020

 

 

 

.

 

Tis the Season!

Screen Shot 2013-12-18 at 9.03.06 AM

It’s that moment when I realize that I need an army of minions to help me around the house to get the wrapping done, last minute cleaning finished, and final decorating.

Oh, and a little more baking. For my honey — who seems to really like some apricot thumbprint cookies. So easy to please, the Big Guy.

I’ve had a very low key Advent…some nice couple-time, a few parties, some good reading, confession last week, a few daily masses thrown in here and there.

What have you been doing to get ready?

Sharing a little quiet time

Went to the chapel after a visit to the doctor this morning. Check out what happened with the morning light, the sanctuary candle, and a bas relief of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I wish I had my camera with me instead if just my phone.

20131213-102845.jpg

and so…Advent begins [up-dated]

Hey! Go visit the incredible Advent Wreath Link-Up event at Catholicmom.com. Clickie here.

advent

One of the things I’ve discovered about the empty nest is that we celebrate things — whether holidays or special events or even the daily non-celebrations — differently. Not better or worse, just — different.

I enjoy it, as one enjoys the different seasons. So this season in our lives is slower, less complicated by hustle and bustle. And, to my amusement (and no doubt my mother’s relief) a lot neater.

I don’t think I would have ever attempted to throw together the clippings from the Christmas tree into a vase, and work around some Advent candles. That’s a fire waiting to happen on that dinner table. That’s why we keep a fire extinguisher in the kitchen — you know, this propensity to have a nice quiet dinner go up in flames.

And so, we begin Advent today with joy, and hope, and a little bit of wonder and anticipation.

.

the gold finally got here!

photo-4

A few days ago I was whining about the leaves not changing fast enough for my liking. It’s been an exercise in patience, for sure. Sometimes, okay, often I am impatient, wanting things immediately, like a little child. Lucky for me my friend, St. Teresa of Avila, reminds me that I need to trust God in all things, even in adversity, even when things aren’t going on the timeline that I want.

Let nothing trouble you / Let nothing frighten you
Everything passes / God never changes
Patience / Obtains all
Whoever has God / Wants for nothing
God alone is enough.

just another sepia evening

Screen Shot 2013-11-19 at 8.31.29 PM

A few days ago on Catholic Weekend I mentioned to my pals on the show that somehow the leaves hadn’t peaked here. I figured everything would just turn brown and then it would be winter.

I was delighted to capture this picture on my way home. There’s a little causeway that crosses a small lake in my neighborhood and I cross it twice, on the way in, and on the way out. Although I took this picture and played with a filter and some cropping, I failed  to see the beauty in it.

Oh, sure, I saw something beautiful that I wanted to capture. I finally saw the leaves changing color. I saw the reflection in the still water. But I didn’t see it.

I posted the picture to Twitter, more out of reflex than any real thought, and then a tweet from a friend gave me pause.  She asked if I got to see that EVERY DAY.

Yes. I just don’t pay attention.

It was one of those moments that are thought provoking, and possibly a little life changing.  A gentle reminder to be a little more present to the world around me. Thanks.

 

 

an unexpected pilgrimage

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I’m attending a conference in downtown Atlanta this week, a STEM event where I presented with a colleague earlier in the week. Today, for reasons unknown to me, the session I wanted to attend was cancelled, leaving me with something like a two-hour window before the next session. I decided to take a little walk down the street  to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

This lovely church was a part of my life as a child. We sometimes went to Mass in Spanish there when we first came to the United States. There was usually some kind of pot luck fellowship thing going on, but what I remember most was playing with my friends after Mass.

Years later, I went back with my teen-aged kids to work in the soup kitchen. The church is right smack in the middle of downtown, and while it is surrounded by beautiful hotels, luxury condominiums and professional offices, there’s an intense police presence in the area and what many folks might consider a bit of an unsavory crowd. The truth is, there’s a reason why there’s a soup kitchen in the church basement, and there’s a reason why some of the most important ministries there serve the poor and marginalized.

I was lucky enough to make it to daily Mass, and was struck by the simple beauty of the prayers of the faithful, which were not only for the residents of the area, but for the people who worked there, and surprisingly, for the visitors who come on business and find respite in its beauty, a retreat in the middle of the noisy city.

That’s certainly what I found there, and to my double delight, when Mass ended, there was Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. I was overcome, thinking I was just going to slip in unnoticed and take some pictures, and not only Mass, but Adoration awaited me.

God is good, all the time. I needed that respite, the silence I can only find in Adoration which always begins with so much chaos in my mind and in my heart, and never fails to end with peace.

It seems like these days I bring a lot to the foot of the cross. Some of it I want to dash angrily, and other things, heavy with resignation, get piled up, one on top of the other. It’s quite a consolation, to lay myself bare, even though it’s something I’m still not comfortable doing — and yet it’s the most natural thing when I let go — it’s what I crave and what I need.

I was happy to have my phone with me to take some pictures. I don’t know when I’ll have the opportunity to return, but I’m grateful for the long visit today.