null

New Time, New Prayer Intention

Due to some schedule changes, my Adoration hour was switched beginning this week, and it has already brought me a new reminder of the importance of intercessory prayer.

As I drove toward the church this morning, I recognized the car in front of me. The driver attends the Saturday-evening vigil Mass and always sits near the board indicating the hymnal numbers for that weekend’s music. When I sing on Saturdays and take care of changing the numbers, she always greets me and asks me to pray for her niece, who is suffering terribly with stage IV cancer.

Each week when this woman sees me, she thanks me for praying. One time, she told me that on her way to work in the mornings, she stops by the church to pray in front of the statue of the Blessed Mother that faces the parking lot.

 

null

 

That’s what she did today after turning her car into the church driveway. So I parked my car, gathered my things, and walked toward hers. She saw me and waved. I signaled that I was heading in to Adoration and would pray, then waved and went on my way to the chapel.

When you’re going through difficult times, knowing that you’re part of a praying community is a great comfort. When you don’t have the words to pray, you can be sure that someone else is praying those words for you. When all you can do is hold on to your Rosary, there is someone whispering the Hail Marys.

It’s good—and important—to pray for others in secret. But it’s also good and imporant to let them know that you’ve got their back and are interceding for them, or offering up a day’s work and struggles for their intention. So send a text, make a call, mail a note, or signal with a wave in the church parking lot that you’re helping someone else bear their burdens.

 


Copyright 2023 Barb Szyszkiewicz
Photos copyright 2023 Barb Szyszkiewicz, all rights reserved.

"Inside, She Weeps" by Barb Szyszkiewicz (Franciscanmom.com) #MondayBlogs

Inside, She Weeps

There is an image in the Adoration Chapel this week: an artist’s depiction of the Pietá — but unlike Michelangelo’s famous sculpture, this one portrays Mary looking straight ahead as she cradles Jesus in her arms, holding him so that His face is next to hers.

Her eyes are not downcast as she holds her crucified Son. They are wide open, staring back at the beholder, filled with emotion.

But what emotion, exactly?

Defiance? I can imagine that her inner Mama Bear comes into play here. She grasps her Son’s body and looks straight ahead, daring anyone to take Him from her.

Shock? She has just watched her only Son complete his earthly mission, culminating in a death so horrible that no one would wish it on his worst enemy, and she witnessed it all. Is she numb from the shock of it?

Grief? Surely. Those eyes, partially in shadow from the veil that covers her hair, are deep pools of grief and pain. Her heart has, indeed, been pierced.

Strength? No tears are on her face. She is hanging on, not allowing herself to give in to those other emotions, sitting straight and not crumpling to the ground, holding Jesus and not letting go.

She will have to let go soon enough. She will have to allow Joseph of Arimathea to take Jesus’ body from her for a hurried burial before the sun goes down.

But not yet. Not at this moment.

For now, she holds on — to her Son, to her composure. She looks straight ahead.

But inside, she weeps.

"Inside, She Weeps" by Barb Szyszkiewicz (Franciscanmom.com) #MondayBlogs
William-Adolphe Bouguereau [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Copyright 2017 Barb Szyszkiewicz, OFS