Chasen' Every Wind

Saturday morning, I was driving down 13^th Street toward downtown DC, listening to the local Christian radio station.  A recent Toby Mac song came on titled “That’s Me Without You”.  I’m not a huge Toby Mac fan, but this particular song has a very catchy refrain. I’ve listened to it many times this summer and the lyrics brought to mind events of the past week.

Last week, a community of which my family is a part had members who made some inappropriate, immoral choices.  The behavior was dealt with by those in leadership.  Then the incident was discovered by the news, and the media descended.  I could not help but be saddened by the behavior and also to feel heartbroken for those involved.  While I’m sure they will recover, their lives will be forever changed due to their actions. 

In the song, Toby sings the following refrain to our Lord:

“Where would I be without you?”

“I’d be packing my bags when I need to stay,

“I’d be chasen’ every breeze that blows my way

“I’d be building my kingdom just to see it fade away

“It’s true

“That’s me without you.”

Although I’ve listened to this song dozens of times this summer, the lyrics came alive in the car. Were this young people “chasen’'” every breeze that blows their way” as they made the inappropriate choices? What could possibly have caused the individuals referenced above to make the decisions they did?  They definitely were only thinking of their own wants at the moment.  Not about how their actions would affect others or what consequences might occur with the behavior.    

This world and its riches are enticing, especially to the young. A lack of moral truth has allowed us to believe that we can get what we want, they way we want it, when we want it. And it can cause us to “chase every breeze that blows our way”.  Would these decisions have been made if they took an instant to pray about their actions? 

I’ll admit that I don’t take the time to pray before making the dozens of decisions that face me each day.  It is each to be busy “building my kingdom just to see it fade away”.  What might have happened if just one of the individuals involved stopped to pray and was given the courage to question the actions?

Later in the song, Toby sings about the fact that, “You rescued me.”  As we are in the early weeks of a new school year, I pray that the Spirit penetrate the hearts and minds and souls of the young (and the not so young) to realize that we should not “pack our bags when we need to stay”, but listening to His voice as we move through our days.

"Our hearts are restless until they rest in you"

Four years ago, I was captivated by St. Augustine after hearing a priest speak about the “God shaped hole”  in our hearts. He quoted St. Augustine in saying, “our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”  From that moment on, I looked to this wise and very human Saint for guidance.

On Wednesday night, at the Catholic Writers Conference in Dallas, TX, I was privileged to see, “Restless Heart.”  It is the first full-length feature film made about Augustine of Hippo and a gem in Christian filmmaking.  It portrays the fallen nature of Augustine, who was born to a devout Christian mother (Monica) and a pagan Father.  The acting was fine and the cinematography first-rate.

The challenge of capturing St. Augustine’s story in a 2 hour movie is daunting and director Christian Duguay’s product is understandable for both believers and non-believers.  The storyline follows Augustine from his birth and childhood in Thagaste (Northern Africa); to Carthage where he hone raw skills into brilliant oratory. He lives a dissolute life, even bringing his concubine and child to live with his mother.

He denies his mother’s believe in God at many times in his life, inspite of his father’s baptism upon his deathbed.  One of the most powerful scenes takes place in the public square, in front of his Mother and priest as he states that belief is foolish because it cannot be scene or touched.  Augustine continues to seek truth, not finding it in fame or fortune or pagan religions.

Augustine is eventually called to Milan to serve in the court and here he meets St. Ambrose, bishop of Milan.  It is Ambrose who sees the talent of young Augustine and challenges him.  The portrayal of St. Ambrose by Andrea Giordana is easily the most compelling performance in the movie.

In a series of scenes, Ambrose plants and then nourishes the seed of belief in Augustine, allowing him to see how is ambition, self seeking, immoral life leads to emptiness.  He helps Augustine to understand that seeking truth means finding the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. For me, the conversion scene was the least believable part of the movie.

Once Augustine understands the all consuming love and mercy that Christ has for him, he is liberated.  And that liberation leads to writing that still brings men and women to Christ today.  I now need to re-read his Confessions!  While seeing his life come to the big screen was entertaining, his written word is powerful and can't be replaced by a video medium.

It is a move that is best viewed on the “big screen”.  Private viewings of the movie are being sponsored by organizations and individuals throughout the country.  For a list of viewings, go to http://www.restlessheartfilm.com/movie-events.php. 

You can make that happen by hosting a theatrical screening in your area! To learn the steps involved in scheduling and hosting a successful screening of this amazing film, contact The Maximus Group at 1-877-263-1263 or RestlessHeart@MaximusMG.com. 

An Unexpected Oasis

I spent this past week in an oasis of Catholic goodness with individuals who are inspired to use their written talents to evangelize.  I have returned to life refreshed in multiple dimensions with a clearer perspective on several aspects of my life.  I nearly cancelled my plans to travel to Dallas to attend the Catholic Writers Conference on Sunday.  Why was I flying to this conference in spite of my too many obligations and the sudden news last week that my husband will be unemployed at the end of September?  Can I even call myself a writer? I didn’t have answers, yet boarded the plane on Monday evening.

My “writing” career began three years ago this month.  Ideas for several short stories had been bubbling in my brain and I began to write them.  It took me four months to finish the first and three weeks to finish the seventh.  I took classes at The Writers Center in Bethesda, MD to improve my writing.  In addition to the stories, I’ve written a series of memoir essays and began this blog a year ago.  All of my writing features the beliefs and teachings of the Catholic Church.  So I would call myself a Catholic Writer!  

I encountered liturgy that woke up my mind and my soul, authors who shared their struggles and persevered to become successful, sessions that provided very practical advice on writing, publishing, marketing and encouragement that came in so many different directions.  We were told to “be not afraid” as we share our faith with believers and non-believers. And to give our gift of writing back to the Lord, it is His plan, after all!

Jeff Cavins spoke about the New Evangelization and his new program called Walking Toward Eternity.  Catholic Radio personality Teresa Tomeo shared her experience as an author and as someone who interviews authors. 

I was touched by homilies by Fr. Andrew Apostoli, CFR, co-founder of the Community of the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal and by Bishop Christopher Coyne of Indianapolis. 

Restless Heart, a new film about St. Augustine was screened during the show.  Country singer Collin Raye sang and shared his story.  I met fellow lay Dominicans, have many new friends from around the country and spent time with the Lord in Adoration.  And we prayed, at the beginning of every session, sometimes at the end of the session.

That convention center, being baked by 100 degree temperatures, surrounded by Six Flags, Rangers Stadium and Texas Stadium was a cool place of refreshment this past week.  I’m still not quite sure why I boarded that plane, but I am glad that I did.

Are you are a Catholic writer? You should join us next year. 

You Go Cardinal Dolan!

I'm at the Catholic Writers Conference in Dallas Texas.  So I have missed most of the Republican National Convention.  I arrived at my hotel room last night to hear the last four sentences of Mitt Romney's acceptance speech. 

I kicked off my heals and layed down on the bed to see a recap.  The local station signed off before the balloons finished falling.  So I switched to CNN.  They were talking about the speech and in the background I thought I saw a sign that said "Timothy Michael Cardinal Dolan". The reporter near the stage said, "They are getting ready to pray, so I'm throwing it back to you."  They went to another commentator.  

I sat up and began to flip channels.  Cardinal Dolan was on Fox News. I was privileged to hear him pray the benediction to close the convention.  He prayed that all our elected officials, and those seeking leadership, will: respect all human life, from conception to natural death; remember Jesus' example of the preferential treatment of the poor, and preserve all the blessings of liberty, in our nation and as an example to all nations, particularly our first freedom, the freedom of religion.    


Lastly, he prayed a thanksgiving to God for the blessings He has already given us in this country, the United States of America.  Thank you Cardinal Dolan!  You are a great man of God and a Great leader.  We ARE one nation under God!

Here is the link to the video, enjoy!

Video: Cardinal Timothy Dolan at Republican National Convention

Wallowing in Self Pity

Today, I received some not so great news. It really doesn't matter what it was, but what matters is how I have reacted. The news isn't life threatening.  I won't be without a place to live any time soon, but it has not made me happy.

But I have spent the entire day feeling sorrow for myself.  I'm in an awful mood.  Everything that I encounter rubs me the wrong way.  I know that this mood and my behavior is not good for me or those I love.

Then on Facebook, I saw a post by Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP. and it felt like a cold bucket of Gatorade was dumped on my head.  I really need to hear he post, especially the last paragraph which is below:

Think about this: Is it a human notion of justice you want applied to your eternal life? An economic balance? Do you truly want what you deserve? What you’ve earned in this life? Do you want the Father to give you a just compensation for your life’s work in His name? The whole point of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ is that we won’t be given what we deserve (thank God!); we won’t receive from the Father what is owed to us (thank God!). He owes us nothing. All the work we do we do for His greater glory, and He still owes us nothing. Do we want justice from God? Or do we want mercy? We want mercy. And Christ has bought that mercy for us and given it to us freely. There's an eager little devil out there waiting to pounce on our witness to the Lord. He will offer us an opportunity to sin and delight the Liar. What is this temptation? It is the temptation to believe that we work for the Lord out of our own generosity, out of our own time, out of our own resources, and we are therefore entitled to a greater reward when we outwork our neighbors. My time, my resources, my talents belong to God. And so do yours. Our freedom is a gift. All that we do in God's name we do with His gifts for His glory. Because without Him we are nothing.

All that I have is his!  Without him I am nothing!  Forgive me Lord!

Memories of an Orphan

                This morning I threw away my watch.  No, this wasn’t some kind of protest for always being on a schedule.  My every day watch stopped working last week.  Even with a new battery, the second hand didn’t move.  It had been sitting on our kitchen table since last Wednesday.  This morning I picked it up and thought about putting it in a drawer.  I then I thought about my Mom.

                I’ve been an orphan for more than two years.  My dad died of complications of lung cancer with I was 28 years old in 1986.  My mom left us in June 2010 from the complications of brain cancer.

                She was diagnosed in mid-February, with stage four lung cancer and died in early June.  I was fortunate enough to be able to spend a good amount of time with her during those 3 ½ months.   Traveling from suburban DC to Michigan monthly, I walked this final journey with her.  Along with my brother, I was at her initial consultation about the treatment that was recommended.  I was there when her hair began to fall out, something that she dreaded.

                I spent time with her and her friends, renewing friendships with women who had been my mom’s support in the years since my father’s death.  I was with her when she met with the minister and the funeral home. And then I was there for the last three days of her life, knowing (or at least hoping) that I would be there is see her transition to her new life.

                The day after her death, I began going through drawers to sort out things to keep, things to share and things that could be pitched.  I didn’t actually intend to spend the day in this manner, but I found it a remarkably healing way to spend the day with her.

                I found newspaper clippings of my uncle’s release from a Vietnam prison, of the 1968 Detroit Tigers World Series win and of the impeachment of President Clinton. Most surprising was the discovery one broken watch after another in drawer after drawer.  I kept them, 9 or 10 in all, to show my brothers and sisters. 

                Two years after my mom’s passing, I don’t know if I remember her every day.  Certainly, I often remember her in prayers for the dead at Mass.  But on this Monday morning, a broken watch gave me the chance to stop the hectic routine and member her good life. A great blessing to begin a new week.

     

Fruits of a Retreat

As I begin this Sunday morning, I am peaceful and joyful.  I am enjoying just the beginning fruits of a retreat.  It has been a tumultuous week.  It began with a packed schedule, included a surprising opportunity to significantly expand my business, important work for my clients, and all of the various family activities that comprise a week at the end of the summer. 

Only because of God’s Providence, my retreat took place on the lush, green grounds of a rural Franciscan monastery, the property of a contemplative order of sisters. I lived in a hermitage, walked a half mile or so to the Motherhouse for prayer three times a day, cooked my own simple meals on the hot plate and I read and prayed and walked and prayed and went to mass and sat on the swing and prayed. Mascara did not touch my lashes or color my lips. Birds and grasshoppers composed my music for the week. For a short time, I had a back and white jumping spider as a room mate (and neither of us is worse for the experience)!

For five days, I indulged myself in the extravagance silence of a retreat. The days rolled from on to the other without a “to do list”.  Since my watch battery died, I listened to the chapel bells for the time of day.  I worshiped in the chapel, in various pray gardens outside and as I walked the acreage both in the fields and in the forest. 

I prayed before the Blessed Sacrament for hours, joined the sisters for Mass and prayed the Liturgy of the Hours each day.  I was delighted to participate in the Franciscan Feast of the Portiuncula on August 2^nd.  This is the chapel that was used by St. Francis in the city of Assisi.  On that day, the sisters drove into Steubenville to worship at a model of the Portiuncula, leaving me 2 hours to pray alone in the chapel.  I had Him all to myself!

I meandered through portions of St. Catherine’s Dialogue.  I had time to read and re-read sentences and then to ponder over them. Sometimes it seemed as if God’s words to cascade over me as I read.  I explored using some of St. Dominic’s pray positions and found that the strange physical positions helped me focus on praying.

I prepared simple meals and ate them on the swing that hung outside my cabin.  I walked to the Mother house at 5:30 in the morning without a flashlight – the full moon lit my way.  I didn’t look in a mirror all week.  It may not sound like luxury to you, but the days tumbled upon each other.

Friday came before I knew it. It was time to enter back into the world. Unlike the last silent retreat, there were no great revelations.  Yet I have confidence that this time spent with our Lord will have more benefits than I will notice.  I attended the final prayer time with the Sisters, realizing that I will fondly remember the graceful way that they float through their days in their grey habits with white veils.

As I rise on this Sunday morning, I know that the first fruits of this retreat are the peace and joy that I feel.  I fondly remember the graceful way that the sisters floated through their days in their grey habits with while veils.  Lord, may I float through praising and worshiping you!