We are blessed to have Perpetual Adoration in our parish. People can stop in for a short visit or spend a holy hour.
When I was growing up, we didn’t know about Adoration Chapels–if they had them. Of course, at that time, churches were open (at least during the day) so people could go in and pay a visit. And we did, as I recall in this post from 10 years ago:
Sometimes my dad would take us kids to a church in a neighboring town while Mom was at some meeting or other. Dad would have some time to kill, and we’d walk around the neighborhood, visit a park, and at some point wind up in the church.
One of us would ask him, “Are we here for church?”
“No, let’s just say hi to God.”
That was an amazing idea. You can go into a church, and just visit. You can just let God know you’re there, say a prayer, light a candle. Dad would let us walk around a little, look at the statues, kneel down for a moment by the tabernacle.
The church would be quiet. Most of the lights would be out, but it wasn’t a spooky darkness. It was kind of comfortable, actually, kind of the way you feel at night when it’s dark, and you’re nice and warm and sleepy, and you know you’re safe. After all, even if the church is nearly dark, and nearly empty, it is still full–because God is there, just waiting for you to come in and say hi.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
The Triduum: it’s only a few weeks away. And the musicians’ schedule has come out, and once again the folk group is not on it.
I’ve been a musician at this parish for about 20 of the past 25 years. For the first 10 years or so, the choir had Holy Thursday, the folk group had Good Friday, and everyone who could make it had the Easter Vigil.
When I returned to the parish after a 4-year hiatus, the folk group had its last hurrah at Good Friday that first year and no one but the choir was invited to sing at the Vigil. After that, we weren’t invited to anything for the Triduum.
Last year we invited ourselves to Good Friday (after the pastor and music director who’d been keeping us out of special occasions had both moved on.) The new music director was very welcoming and accommodating. So was 50% of the choir. But the choir’s “Penalty Box” in the Big Church creates a real design challenge when it comes to getting 3 guitars and 10 extra people into the space, and not everyone was gracious about sharing wiggle room and music stands (why vocalists need music stands is beyond me. Their hands are not busy.)
“Hey! Let’s make a triangular choir area with a closet bump-out in the middle!” said no sane church designer ever.
ANYWAY, for the past several years I’ve basically boycotted the Triduum, because it hurts to be there. It hurts to be excluded. So I rant in this space (and to my husband) and commiserate with the rest of the folk group–and nurse my wounded pride.
That needs to stop, and I’m the only one who can stop it. This year, I need to make it my business to be at the Triduum.
As I mentioned the other day, my friend has set a good example by bringing her children to a musical in which they were not cast, in order to support their friends who did get a role.
These boys are learning how to rise above their own disappointments and support their friends who were not similarly disappointed. It’s a hard lesson–at any age.
How many adults have not learned such a lesson? How often do we let our own wounded pride stand in the way of enjoying an experience or supporting a friend?
Time to put my money where my mouth is. If 9-year-olds can do it, so can I.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
There’s nothing fun about penance, to be sure, but Lent has its hopeful side. Today I’m revisiting a post I wrote on the First Sunday of Lent in 2007:
Why is Lent something we seem to dread?
It’s only been three days so far, and I’ve lost count of the people who have expressed to me how much they “hate Lent.”
This morning a fellow church musician mentioned that she finds Lenten music to be full of Gloom and Doom.
Granted, this is not a cheerful time, in the sense that Christmas and Easter are cheerful. But it is certainly a hopeful time. It is a time to look forward to the holiest Three Days that we celebrate as a Church. As we remind ourselves each week as we recite the Memorial Acclamation, “Lord, by your cross and resurrection, you have set us free. You are the Savior of the world.”
At Mass today our choir will sing this song by Dan Schutte:
Let us ever glory in the cross of Christ,
Our salvation and our hope.
Let us bow in homage to the Lord of life,
Who was broken to make us whole.
There is no greater love, as blessed as this,
To lay down one’s life for a friend.
Let us ever glory in the cross of Christ
And the triumph of God’s great love.
Let us tell the story of the cross of Christ
As we share this heavenly feast.
We become one body in the blood of Christ
From the great to the very least.
When we eat of this bread and drink of this cup
We honor the death of the Lord.
Let us ever glory in the cross of Christ
And the triumph of God’s great love.
(copyright 2000, OCP)
During this season of Lent, may we remember that it’s not All About Us. It’s not about whether we can abide giving up chocolate, or soda, or colored sprinkles. These sacrifices are small potatoes indeed when we meditate on what Christ was willing to do for our sakes.
May we walk through this Lent with a joyful spirit.
Saint Bernardine of Siena wrote that Saint Francis once said:
May the fiery and honey-sweet power of your love, O Lord, wean me from all things under heaven, so that I may die for love of your love, who deigned to die for love of my love.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
The thing about parenting a child with a chronic illness like diabetes is that you’ve always got some underlying anxiety. There is never a day off–someone has to be constantly paying attention to a lot of things.
In our house, we have settled upon a division of labor of sorts when it comes to parenting. By virtue of my schedule and my abilities, I am the Cook, Nutritionist and Equipment Manager. Because he’s one of those people who can fall back to sleep at the drop of a hat after a middle-of-the-night interruption, Hubs is Night Watchman. He is also the Researcher, keeping tabs on all the newest developments in technology.
Right now we’re in the middle of a medical-supply crisis brought on by some frustrating insulin-pump issues. Technology is great…when it works. But when your kid’s insulin pump quits after 24 hours when it’s supposed to last 48 to 72, you run out of supplies faster than you should. And then your pump supplier won’t get you any more because your insurance company won’t authorize it–not even if you ask if you can pay for them out of pocket.
TheKid’s endocrinologist suggested 10 days ago that we call the pump manufacturer and ask for samples of different insulin pump sets. I did that–10 days ago. The representative promised to have them in the mail ASAP. Yesterday I called back because I had not received anything, only to be told that her supervisor had mailed them early last week, USPS.
And then last night TheKid’s pump set once again quit at the 24-hour mark. AND the new set he inserted this morning came right out again because he caught the tubing on something while getting dressed. So we were down 2 more sets, with only 2 left to last us 10 days.
So this morning at Mass my anxiety level was climbing high. After Mass as I drove across town, I was praying out loud in my car: “Help me give this to you, God. I don’t know what else I can do.” I was afraid that I’d be in tears by the time I got to ShopRite.
When I got home I emailed a bunch of friends whom I know I can count on for prayers. And then technical issues wouldn’t let me log in for work, so I decided to just get out of here. I went to the mall to spend a Godiva Chocolate gift card I’d received before Christmas–but which I’d saved because with my foot injury, I wasn’t going near a mall. What better way to alleviate stress than getting my hands on some really good chocolate, right?
Right after I got home, the UPS truck pulled up in front of my house and brought me a box–with 7 pump sets, 3 different kinds.
God is good.
We’ll make it to next week when the new order comes in. And when we figure out which pump set brand works best for TheKid, we’ll navigate the process to change our order.
I really wish that it wouldn’t take me quite so long to lay my concerns at God’s feet. It really does help. I remember that two years ago, I was facing similar issues. Again, it was over TheKid’s health. That’s really my breaking point. There is precious little that I can control about that, but diabetes is all about control.
From April 2014:
Yesterday at our Secular Franciscans meeting we had a guest speaker: a Sister who works at a local retreat house. She gave a presentation about practical ways to pray constantly.
Here’s one of the recommendations she gave us:
What is the one sentence I’d like to say to God right now?
I just used that technique, and I have to say, there’s comfort in it.
I’m in the middle of some red tape on the medical-provider end of Little Brother’s diabetes care, and the idea of the confrontation I’ll probably have to have in order to untangle this mess has ratcheted my anxiety level into the stratosphere. Suddenly I just stopped what I was doing while waiting for the phone call I’m dreading and said, out loud,
“I’m hitting the wall right now, God.”
(Fortunately no one else is home right now.)
It helped a little, though, just to get that out there. I can kind of feel my jaw unclenching and my fists opening up–just a bit.
And then, the tears. Not tears of despair, but instead that almost-relief when you know in your heart that God’s got this.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
Yesterday my Secular Franciscan Fraternity enjoyed its annual celebration of choosing a patron saint for the year. I’m revisiting a post I shared at CatholicMom.com that explains the process–and at the end, I’ll tell you what saint was chosen for me this year!
It is a Franciscan tradition that at the feast of the Epiphany, each person is given the name of a patron saint for the year. Many Secular Franciscan (Third Order) groups observe this custom, and it really is a lovely way to begin the year. We are encouraged to learn more about our chosen saint, reading about their lives or reading works the saints themselves have written.
In my Secular Franciscan Fraternity, we receive a patron saint for the year as well as a virtue to cultivate and a maxim upon which to meditate. This maxim may be a quote from Scripture or from Saint Francis. We also receive the name of another member of the Fraternity and are asked to keep that person in special prayer throughout the year. Other Fraternities might have a different prayer or procedure; this is how our local group celebrates this ritual each year.
The leader begins by reminding everyone:
We believe that God speaks to us in many ways, not the least of which is through the example of His saints, and through the inspired words of Scripture and other pious writings. Your patron for the year—as well as the maxim and the virtue—can be a special source of inspiration in the challenges which might be facing you during the year. Read the life of the saint; what does the message of his/her life have to say to you? Reflect on the maxim and the virtue.
We pray:
Almighty and everlasting God, we celebrate that day when your Word became flesh for all the world to see. In becoming one with our human family he sanctified human activity and made us holy through his life-giving word. Through the ages, his message has continued to touch the hearts of men and women of every place, taking flesh in their lives through Christian service. May these holy men and women stand as shining examples of Christian virtue and the Gospel life, for each one of them reflects a unique aspect of your divine love. Be with us today, Lord our God, as we choose one of these saints as our patron for the new year. With the help of your Spirit, may the saint given to us today serve as a special reminder of our call to holiness. May his or her teaching and example serve to inspire us to exercise Christian virtue and to follow your Son more closely in our Franciscan family. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Our Super-Low-Tech Franciscan Saint’s Name Generator consists of four stacks of index cards, a basket, and slips of paper with each member’s name written on them. The cards contain the names of many Franciscan saints, the virtues, the maxims, and the members of the Fraternity. The slips of paper go into the basket, which is passed around the room. As each name is drawn, cards for saints, virtues, maxims and “prayer partners” are chosen for that person.
We then pray Psalm 150 together and conclude with this prayer:
O God, you have raised up men and women outstanding in holiness as examples to your people in following in your footsteps. Grant that we may ever look to the example and teaching of your saints, imitating their virtue, and thus merit to arrive at your heavenly banquet. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
It is a prayerful experience, but it’s often punctuated by joking and laughter, especially when someone is handed the virtue of Poverty or (yikes) Patience. There are also many expressions of gratitude for prayers to come when people learn the name of their prayer partners, and offers to share biographies of saints.
And now for…The Big Reveal!
My patron saint for 2016: St. Clare of Assisi (feast: August 11)
Hubs and I celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary today! In honor of the occasion, I have an Anniversary Special: snips from a couple of anniversary-related posts and a bonus recipe.
We hadn’t arranged for limos since the church and reception were fairly close. So the guys in the wedding party took the girls in their cars. We never arranged for rides for OURSELVES! After the photo-ops were over, we were almost the only ones left in the church, and we had no way to get to the reception. So we hitched a ride with the neighbor who was responsible for getting us together.
Blind date!! My father worked with Hubs’ neighbor. In fact, they’d worked together so long that she knew me first. When Hubs had broken up with his long-term girlfriend, she played Yenta the Matchmaker.
TheKid is a soccer fan. This morning he announced, “Mom, the World Cup is going to be in Brazil next year! Can I go?”
Denied.
I thought his request was funny, so I was telling Daughter about it. She replied, “I’d love to go! I’d bring my friend. She speaks Portuguese. And I’ll learn how to ask where the bathroom is. I’m pretty sure it’s almost just like Spanish.”
“Right. The last thing I’m going to do is send the two of you and one other teenager to Brazil.”
TheKid, for whom Hope Springs Eternal, had a plan. “Wait! Aren’t you and Dad going to celebrate your 25th anniversary soon?”
“No. It’ll be 23 in January.”
“Oh. Well, I have an idea! You and Dad can go to Brazil on your honeymoon!”
“And I’m guessing that you and Daughter would be the chaperones?”
“Well, no. We would go to the soccer game, and you and Dad can go visit that big Jesus on the mountain. I thought of everything! It’s a great plan! What could possibly go wrong?”
This four-ingredient dish is easy to put together. It’s a great recipe to use when the kids want to help in the kitchen, because they can do all the prep work! Note that low-fat cream of chicken soup does not work well in this recipe.
Chicken Swiss Melt
4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 6 oz. each)
1/4 lb. sliced Swiss cheese
1 can cream of chicken soup
1/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs for topping
Spread a little soup on the bottom of your casserole dish. A small offset spatula, like ones used for decorating cakes, is perfect for this.
Place chicken on top of soup. Cover with Swiss cheese slices (if cheese slices are thin, double up!) Spread the rest of the soup over the chicken and cheese.
Cover and bake at 350 for 35 minutes. Uncover, sprinkle bread crumbs over chicken and bake 5 minutes more. Serve over rice, and don’t skimp on the sauce!
Note: Havarti cheese can be substituted for Swiss.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
It’s January 6, and in some places, Epiphany is celebrated today and not the Sunday before. With that in mind, here’s my #WorthRevisit from 2 years ago:
I love Christmas carols–always have. If you ask me to choose my top 3, it’s an easy choice: “O Holy Night,” “Silent Night,” and “The Little Drummer Boy.”
That last one hardly fits into the category of “traditional Christmas carols,” but I can’t help it. That song makes me cry every time–always has. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to sing the line, “I played my best for him” without choking up.
The Little Drummer Boy gets it right. He brings his gift–not something that can be opened, but his talent–and he gives his best effort to honor the newborn King. As a musician, it’s what I try to do, Sunday after Sunday. And I love that after the Little Drummer Boy offers his humble gift, Baby Jesus smiles at him.
Pass me a tissue, please.
Why would I choose bongo drums to illustrate this post? In art, the Little Drummer Boy is always pictured with a snare, sometimes slung around his neck, and drumsticks in his hands.
But my Little Drummer Boy (AKA Little Brother) has bongo drums. We sang “The Little Drummer Boy” on Tuesday at church and will do so again today. (It’s not “orthodox;” it’s not in the hymnal, but it’s better theology than a bunch of what is in there.) Little Brother has learned to play the song on his drums. On Tuesday he knelt beside the guitarists and nailed that drum part, even meriting a thumbs-up from Bill, a former drummer who’s very particular about how percussion is played.
I love that my kids have had the opportunity to offer their musical gifts in worship, to play their best–even when they’re beginners musically. I teared up on Tuesday when my Little Drummer Boy played his best, right alongside me. And it’s pretty much a given that I’ll cry again today.
________________
We played this song on Sunday, as we do each Epiphany. Yeah, I cried. And even though the song is not in the hymnal, so we didn’t announce it, the congregation sang right along. (Which means we’re doing our job.)
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
On what would have been her 101st birthday (and she’d be furious at me for divulging her age), a tribute to my grandmother, revisited from 2 years ago.
I wrote more about my grandmother in my chapter of Word by Word; her witness was a huge influence in my life.
We called her “Nanny.” (She hated the nickname, but once a little kid learns it, you’re stuck with it.) Today she would have turned 99 years old.
Only two of my kids remember her, though we do have a picture of her with all 3 of them. She passed away when Little Brother was about 7 months old.
Nanny lived 2.5 miles away from our house. I know this because when I was in middle school (and high school) I used to ride my bike there, and my dad made sure we all had odometers for our bikes.
Pictured here is Nanny’s house as it looks today. She lived on the second floor. When I was in middle school, I received my own key to her house. By that time she was recently retired from her job as a secretary in the courthouse in Paterson, NJ–and she was tired of going down the stairs to let us in when we’d show up to visit.
We were always welcome in her home, even unannounced. And she always knew we’d been there if we showed up and she wasn’t home. We started leaving her little notes on the kitchen table so she wouldn’t worry about someone breaking in.
I inherited my grandmother’s supersonic ears. She could always tell when we were raiding the glass bowl of M&Ms she kept on the dining-room table. (I inherited that table.)
I wish I’d inherited her crossword-puzzle skills. Every Sunday she bought the New York Times, removed the magazine so she could do the puzzle, and threw away the rest of the paper. She’d sit at the kitchen table and work on the puzzle while her Sunday chicken roasted and the potatoes boiled. If I rode my bike over there in time for dinner, I got the wings. And sometimes she’d let me take a crack at the puzzle after she’d gone through it.
Nanny’s house was four blocks from the Catholic school where my mom taught and where at least 3 generations of my family (including me, my brother and sister) were educated. Maybe 4. My great-grandfather might have gone there too. On sick days, Mom would drop us off at Nanny’s house, where we’d be set up on the couch with a crocheted daisy blanket and a book to read. (I inherited that blanket too.)
Nanny was a daily Mass-goer and Rosary pray-er. She always went all out in decorating for Christmas–INSIDE the house–right down to the fake snow on the mantelpieces in the dining room and living room. One year for my birthday she gave me a big box of art/office supplies: new crayons, scissors, pencils, stapler, art paper and more. I was thrilled.
Hands down, Nanny made the best roast chicken, mashed potatoes, turnips, and tuna-fish sandwiches (on Wonder bread, with butter. Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.) I don’t ever remember her baking anything, but she knew where the good bakery was, and when she went there, she’d bring you back a lemon cupcake or blueberry tart. You could always find Coke in the fridge and Mallomars in the cabinet, and the Milky Ways were kept in the vegetable drawer.
I miss Nanny, and more than that, I wish that my kids had what I’d had: the chance to grow up with anytime-you-want access to your grandmother.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
It’s time again for the Festival of Lessons and Carols, happening Friday. This is my favorite musical event of the whole year. I’ve participated every year since 2011, though last year I attended all but one rehearsal and missed the performance because I was too sick to play, let alone sing.
From a performance in 2013. I’m not in this photo; the instruments were off to the right.
For today’s #WorthRevisit Wednesday, I’m revisiting December 2011, the first year I participated in Lessons and Carols. None of my kids participate anymore, but I’m still there and, if they’ll have me, I’ll continue to be there in future years. (Hey, I multitask. I play guitar AND sing alto. I’m the only guitar, but one of 6 altos this year–the alto section is nothing short of amazing. Not that I’m biased.)
One of my favorite activities in high school was the choir. We were probably about 60 strong–that’s half the school! I loved the chance to sing in harmony.
We only had 3-part harmony (soprano, second soprano, alto) since my high school was not coed. I was a second soprano, but over the years I’ve migrated to alto. (And I’m not above throwing in a tenor or baritone part now and again, just for the fun of it.) I do not harbor any illusions of having a solo-quality voice, but I do just fine in a group and I can sustain a harmony line without being near anyone else who’s singing that same part.
Right now, I’m thoroughly enjoying a chance to stretch my musical muscles. Over at the school parish, preparations are under way for a Festival of Lessons and Carols, scheduled for the Tuesday before Christmas. It’s a mixed group in many ways. First of all, we’ve got soprano, alto, tenor and bass–and a children’s chorus. WOW! It’s amazing to be part of creating that wonderful sound. We’re coming from at least 4 different parishes and at least as many different choirs/ensembles. There are kids (as young as second grade), teens, college students, young adults, parents with kids of all ages, and empty-nesters.
Soon, we’re bringing in the musical instruments! And we all come together to make music. Christmas music is wonderful, and there is a huge repertoire of beautiful Christmas music out there. As a musician at church, though, I’m pretty much limited to standard carols. And that’s fine–people attending Mass during the Christmas season expect, and should find, those old familiar carols. It makes things easy when people visit from other parishes, other traditions, or just haven’t been to church in a while. When we play and sing at Mass, we’re there to lead people in prayer through song, not to perform for them.
This Festival of Lessons and Carols is a combination of Scripture readings and beautiful music, most of which is not your standard carol. It’s a performance, but don’t think for a moment that it is not also worship.
Last year Big Brother played bass at this Festival. The rest of us came along to be part of the audience. I loved it and was thrilled to be asked to take part this year (along with Little Brother and Big Brother, who will participate again).
That whole “singing is praying twice” thing? For me, it’s completely true.
I love that we pray before we rehearse, thanking God for the gift of music, for the opportunity to share that gift and to give God honor and glory by using that gift. (That’s the gist of the prayer; the music director does a better job phrasing it than I just did).
And I love being a small part of this large group. Some people in the group are like me, with ordinary musical skills. Others are incredibly gifted. When I sing with them, I am challenged beyond what I think I am capable of doing.
Great joy!
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
Thanksgiving is all about the food in so many ways. But really, it’s all about tradition.
I was one of many who responded to a tweet by @CatholicFoodie, in which an innovative pepper-stuffed turkey recipe was shared, with this: “Thanksgiving, for me, is about Nostalgia Food. New recipes will be saved for another day.”
Nostalgia Food and tradition. That’s Thanksgiving in a nutshell. And here’s a tradition my sister and I have. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day. From 2007:
My sister cooks Thanksgiving dinner at her home every year. My family attends every other year, and in the off years we spend the holiday with TheDad’s side of the family. Usually I cook, and they all come here–though there have been exceptions, like the time Pop was in the hospital. That year I cooked it all and brought it to my brother-in-law’s house and finished making the dinner there, since they lived closer to the hospital, and the adults visited Pop in shifts throughout the day.
When you cook Thanksgiving dinner you have to get up early. There are a lot of details to take care of, and a big turkey does take a while to stuff and cook. So my sister and I have developed our own little tradition. Whether it’s our year to visit her home, or the “bye year” as she calls it, we spend part of the early hours of the morning on the phone. Even if we’re at her house, she’s got so many guests and is so busy that we don’t get to talk much. So we enjoy our Thanksgiving phone call.
I’ve got nothing to cook this year but I’m up early anyway. The coffee is brewing, and I just got an email from my sister telling me that she’s awake, and that those participating in the annual Great Pheasant Hunt will be leaving at 5:45, so I’m welcome to call anytime after that.
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
