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Last year, while living in Alabama, I got to attend daily Mass. Initially, this was all my son’s idea. We lived super close to the church, we homeschool, and it just made sense to go. I mean, why not? So, each morning, my son and I would go to Mass and I cannot accurately describe how much this came to mean to me. Receiving Christ nearly everyday was incredible. I loved watching my son serve, also, and I enjoyed talking with the daily Mass goers. The priests became great friends. I was thriving in this community. Then, we got stationed in the middle of nowhere in the desert and that all went away. There’s no more daily Mass on base. It’s been a true spiritual desert. In Alabama, I was riding on a spiritual high. Then, ever so quickly, that was stripped from me. I’ve asked God a thousand times why back to the desert? Why? What I receive back in my heart is: Can you stay devoted in the lows? When the good feelings are all stripped away, how will you still come after Me? That’s the thing, the longing is ever present and I must offer this suffering up without becoming bitter or angry. I, also, must trust, Catholic Pilgrims, that even though I’m in a “deserted place,” Jesus will multiple the graces and blessings if I bring Him all I have, even if it’s just my longing. He’ll do it just like He did the fishes and the loaves. Have a blessed Tuesday. *Mission San Fernando
Continue ReadingThis is a story about the curious cases of Mr. Nitpick and Mrs. Nitpick. Not long after Christmas, I posted a picture of the church I went to the Sunday after Christmas. Southwest Missouri doesn't have Catholic Churches that rival the beautiful ones up north in KC and St. Louis, so it wasn’t the grandest church of all time. Anyway, I put together a heart-felt post and someone completely breezed past the message and said to me, "Shouldn't there be flowers around the tabernacle?" What you couldn't tell from the picture was that the tabernacle was in an enclosure. I'd never seen anything like it before and it was kinda cool. The doors of the enclosure stuck out making it hard to have flowers. I responded back, "It's in an enclosure, it wouldn't make sense to put flowers in there." And it wouldn't. They'd look stuffed. But...my explanation mattered not at all. It didn't matter that there were loads of poinsettias all around the altar, near the tabernacle and up front. Nope. According to the commenter, if there weren't flowers stuffed inside the enclosure, people weren't acknowledging the Real Presence of Jesus in the tabernacle. I struggled to have patience with Mr. Nitpick. The reason I struggled is because I've been that person, too. I have a deep disdain for 60s styling and architecture--it's bland, it's typically ugly, and apparently nobody understood symmetry. I know every church can't look like Notre Dame, but come on. Then one day, I went to a First Communion Mass. It was at one of those 60s styled churches and everything was hideous to me. My attitude about the whole thing spilled over into my attitude at the Mass. I caught myself scowling the ENTIRE time. Instead of listening to the liturgy of the Mass, I was nitpicking everything--the altar, the music, the carpet, the cross. Everything. When I walked out of Mass, I realized with sorrow that I had not paid attention one iota to the Consecration or receiving the Eucharist. I had lacked zero gratitude because I had chosen to nitpick to death everything in the church. One of the most memorable Masses for me was in a dirty prison classroom while doing prison ministry. The "altar" was a brown table and the room lacked any depth of beauty whatsoever, yet I was moved to tears at the Consecration. I didn't nitpick because my focus was on Christ. It's easy to nitpick things to death, Catholic Pilgrims. "This isn't the right music. The flowers aren't right. The altar isn't perfect. The art is ugly." I wish all our churches could be stunningly beautiful, but what is more important is that our soul is open with gratitude to the Lord. Our soul needs to be beautiful and it simply can't be when we have become Mr. or Mrs. Nitpick. Something to keep in mind, and most especially for myself. Live the faith boldly and travel well this Monday.
Continue ReadingIn my younger years, when I was limping along in my faith life, I thought that however I wanted to live out my belief in God was perfectly fine. In fact, my attitude was such that I felt God needed to come to me. He needed to do all the “heavy lifting.” Basically, I was like Herod. Herod obviously was jealous of Jesus and wanted to get rid of Him, but he feigned a desire to adore the Christ Child which was no different than myself. I simply couldn’t be bothered with going to church to be with God or do anything else, for that matter. The Magi were different. They did whatever was needed to be close to Christ. They traveled, they asked about Him, they looked for Him, they brought Him gifts, they brought their praise and they worshiped Him. Then they went home by a different way. Venerable Fulton Sheen once said, “No one who ever meets Christ with a good will returns the same way as he came.” When I was like Herod, apathetic and fake in my desire to know Christ, I continued on the same self-serving path that offered no growth or true joy. Once I became more like the Magi, my pilgrimage through life became different and that has made all the difference, Catholic Pilgrims. Have a blessed Sunday where we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord. *Picture is from San Fernando Mission in LA
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