Getting Old, Laura

Quietly I knocked on the door of her room, and heard no answer. The curtain was drawn all the way around her bed, so I peeked around and came into her solitude. There she lay, almost naked on her bed. Laura. Alone in her horrible world. No one to visit, no one to care. No one. I stepped closer and a little louder said her name, "Laura, it's me, Liz." She halfway opened her eyes and looked blankly at me. I could see every part of her body, for the sheet was entirely at the bottom of the bed, her nightgown was wrapped nearly up around her head, and her diaper wasn't even on well enough to catch anything, should she empty into it. I asked her if she was comfortable, or if she wanted me to cover her, and she wanted me to cover her, so I did. She said she was cold. She wanted a drink of water from the styrofoam cup that was out of reach from her on the bedside table. Someone had filled it for her, but moved it way out of her arm's reach. She drank probably half the cup. Who knows how long she had been thirsting. I gave her some dignity and covered her tired, hardly functional body with the sheet. She seemed to thank me with her halfway open eyes. I asked if she wanted me to read her the gospel and she smiled and responded a happy, "Yes." Laura was always eager to hear God's word. I knew her answer would be yes. It always was. I noticed the bruise marks on her arms. She has tender skin and bruises easily. In spite of her failing body, she is still a very pretty woman; a full head of white curly hair, very soft, pale skin and tender, loving blue eyes. I explained that it was Trinity Sunday and read the short gospel reading. Then I invited her to receive Holy Communion, which she was eager to receive, as always. After communion, I just had to stare at this pitiful human being, left alone to lie undignified in this empty room, uncovered, diaper half on, drink out of reach, until someone happened upon her. I stroked her soft, soft cheek and brushed the hair from off her face. I told her I loved her. I told her that God loved her and I prayed to each person of the Blessed Trinity to be with her and to keep her in His holy care. I also prayed to Mary to embrace this child of God and to extend her motherly care over her so that she would know her motherly love. I kissed her forehead before I left and told her I would be back next week. I left angry that once again a daughter was left poorly cared for. I wondered if I should say something or if that was my position or not. Or if my duty was just to pray for her and love her while I was visiting. I could bring her Jesus. I could bring her a few minutes of love. Was this all God wants me to do? How many Lauras are there? My heart breaks for them.

Daily Prayer

Lord Jesus,
I ask you to send to me this day, those who most need Your love. Let me love them with Your love. Let me feel such love as never before. Help me to know who is lonely, who needs simply a smile, who needs a hug, or a listening ear. Jesus, help me to speak kindly to all I encounter; let me not utter a harsh word. Let those I come in contact with see You through my eyes. Let them feel Your love through my goodness. Help me to be generous and give freely of myself to all. May all glory go to You, Jesus and none go to me. I praise Your glorious and beautiful name. I love You, Lord, with all my heart, all my might and all my soul. Thank You for loving me. Amen.

Lebanon Beckons

I woke last night just after two.
The breeze pulled the curtain back and forth
And shadows danced on the wall behind my bed.

I imagined mountains covered with green,
Cedars standing tall, majestic and proud
How many times the Old Testament told of them.

I saw steeples peering from town centers.
They drew me in and called me forth to step in
And make a visit, bowing to the Lord within.

A great heritage comes from within these mountains.
People have a story to tell far greater than mine
Yet mine is intertwined with theirs to this day.

I hear a choir of sisters singing from the church.
Their voices rise in unison, a hymn of dark remembrance
Of a history gone by, yet still so fresh in mind.

I hear you, Lebanon, my love, I hear you call.
You beckon with your beauty; with your love and
With mysterious affection that binds me to you forever.

I will come.

One of My Communicants

On Sunday mornings after Mass I go to one of the local nursing homes/assisted living centers to bring the gospel and holy communion to the Catholic residents. It is one of my favorite ministries. I have been doing it nearly eight years and I love the residents. Each one is unique. I love that they are excited for my visit and that they are ready and waiting when I come. In a funny way, I feel like they are "mine." When I am gone away for a weekend, I get upset if I find that my replacement does not show up. They are my responsibility and I love them.

There is one man in particular, who needs prayer. Although he loves to receive communion and to hear the gospel, he tends to use the gospel readings to apply them to situations and people in the local and national news. For instance, he will say that certain local individuals in the news are just like the sadducees and he will ream them out and say that they belong down in hell. Or he will criticize local priests or the bishop and say they are no good. It is very disturbing because every week I cringe wondering who it is he will massacre this week.

I try to say positive things about the person he tears apart, hoping he will catch on, but, he doesn't seem to realize he is doing what he does. I also try to say things like, "We must pray for them," or "we must love them>" to try to get him to focus on what Jesus would want us to do. Sometimes I think elderly people get into a rut of just being critical and ornery for the sake of being that way. I think they forget the gospel message.

Let's pray for those who get stuck in the habit of being critical and judgemental of others without trying to see the good in them. There IS good in everyone. And let's be careful of how critical we are of others.

The Faith of a Muslim Turned Catholic

Recently I became acquainted with a young man who was living in the U.S., studying at a university in the western United States. This man is from Saudi Arabia and grew up in a Muslim family. However, in the past few years, through various circumstances, he felt drawn to Christianity and realized that the Holy Spirit was iniviting him into a relationship with Jesus Christ. The pull was so strong that he began to investigate Christianity through several means. He not only began to talk with protestant friends and chat in internet chat rooms, but, he began to attend various church functions and, most importantly, to read many, many books on his own.

When several of the protestant people he spoke with tried to turn him away from Catholicism, he decided to investigate Catholicism himself and see what was so terribly wrong with this faith that had so many million members all across the globe. He immersed himself in reading the Scriptures, the writings of the early Church Fathers and witnesses of modern converts such as Scott Hahn.

He decided that if he was going to become a Christian he wanted to join the real church begun by Jesus Christ 2,000 years ago and after spending many hundreds of hours reading, he knew that this was the Catholic Church. In the fall of 2011, he began the RCIA process at the parish where he was already receiving instruction from the priest. He was so excited to be on the journey to be baptized into the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil in 2012.

When his parents came to the U.S. to visit him, he told them of his decision to convert. Their immediate reaction was to tell him that he would no longer be their son in such a case. However, after two days they relented and told him that they disagreed with his decision, but, he would still be their son as long as when he would come home to Saudi Arabia, he would tell no one that he was a Christian. Of course in Saudi Arabia, an infidel such as this would be subject to death. He agreed.

In December, a family situation occurred that caused him to be called back to Saudi Arabia. He was so disappointed to have to leave during the week before Christmas. He asked to be baptized before he went home since there are few if any churches in Saudi. The priest thought it would not be possible. However, the matter was brought before the Archbishop and the priest who had been catechizing him all along was certain that he was ready for baptism because of all his reading on his own and his knowledge of the faith. So he was given permissin by the Archbishop to be baptized, confirmed and to receive his first communion two days before he left back to his homeland. He rejoiced in this miracle. He was now a Catholic and one with Christ Jesus.

Please keep this man, whom I shall call Michael for his confirmation name, in your prayers. I will write more about him later.

Use Me, Lord

Lord Jesus, if ever I can be of use to You, even in the slightest way, then please use me. If my eyes can be of use to see someone who needs help, needs a friend, or just needs a smile, then use my eyes to see that someone. If my ears can be of use to hear the plea of a poor person begging for food, to hear the cry of a lonely elderly person, or to just listen to someone who needs a compassionate ear, then by all means call upon me to use my ears to hear for You. If my hands can hold a love-starved child, or if they can wrap a warm blanket around a shivering homeless person, then direct me to this opportunity, Jesus. If I can but fix a simple meal and serve it in a soup kitchen, or if I can fold my hands in prayer offered for someone struggling with emotional pain, then by all means call me to this, Lord. If my lips can whisper a prayer for someone who so badly needs my intercession, or if they can say comforting, kind words to another one who has only heard harsh criticism and hateful words, then let my mouth proclaim Your love O Lord. Use me, Lord. I desire nothing more than to be Your simple disciple. For You said, "Whatever you do to these least brethren of mine, that you do unto me." I desire to treat each of my human brothers and sisters as I would treat You. I want to love them, Lord. Give me Your complete and holy love for all men. Amen.

Mary's Pain for Jesus Her Son

Recently two of my daughters have suffered tremendous pains in their lives. I do not wish to share what they each went through, but, as a mother, I cried right along with them, and even by myself, spent time in tears, crying because the pain they suffered emotionally, was so great for them to bear. One night last week, my husband and I drove up north on our way to vacation, and spent the night in one of my daughter's apartment. She had recently suffered a very painful situation in her life. My husband slept on the couch and I slept in the bed with my daughter. She came home after we had gone to bed. When she came home it was very late and I pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't feel she had to talk to me that late at night. She cried herself to sleep. I felt her body wracked with emotional pain shake and shudder with crying for a good half hour before she finally fell asleep. I put my arm around her to comfort her and just held her. Tears ran down my cheeks as I silently held my 28-year-old baby and wept for her. She felt so small and helpless in my arms. I knew I could do nothing to ease her pain. It was such a helpless feeling. I could only silently offer prayers to God to ease her pain.

The other daughter is expecting her first baby and found out some unfortunate news about future pregnancies for her husband and her. She called me on the way home from the specialist today. She, too, was in tears. I offered her words of comfort the best I could, but, when I hung up the phone, I also wept for the hurt I felt for my child. Again, I knew I was helpless in this situation and only God can help them.

It gave me the chance to reflect on Mary, only one day after the Feast of her Assumption into Heaven. I thought of how miniscule these hurts of my own children must seem to Mary, who wept at the foot of the cross after witnessing the near-death beating of her only son at the hands of cruel and savage Roman soldiers. I recalled how she had witnessed the hideous crucifixion of her "baby," who was guilty only of proclaiming the truth to the world. I thought of how she must have ached so while watching Him hang on the cross for three grueling hours while people laughed and ridiculed Him. She, too, could do nothing to take away His pain. How helpless she must have felt. She must have felt an ache to her innermost being. How dreadful this must have been.

Mary certainly knows my pain when I hurt for my own children. She is the one true mother of us all. I will offer my prayers for my children to her and ask her to ask Her son to lighten the burden of my children even just a little bit. I know she will answer this prayer because she has the heart of a mother who has suffered for her child. I thank her for being my beautiful and holy mother. And I thank Jesus for giving her to me on the cross.