The “pre-departure” tag keeps coming into my mind whenever there is someone close to me entering into the final stages of life.

Because my sister Dorothy is becoming weaker and weaker, thinner and thinner, I find myself thinking of her as being in the “pre-departure” area. She just prepared her “Do Not Resuscitate” order to take to her doctor. While Dottie loves life, she wants only palliative care when the time comes. She understands that the incurable form of lupus from which she suffers is sapping her life. Dottie now depends on oxygen because the disease is attacking her lungs.

I visit Dottie every Sunday, often joining another one of our sisters in taking her out to supper. My other sister is also a Eucharistic minister and brings Communion regularly, since they live only a short distance apart. Dottie eats as much as she can, but even with nutritional supplements and good medical care it is obvious she is losing the fight.

It is tough to see a loved one slowly dying. Dottie is very intelligent and has a clear sense that she is nearing the end of life. At 80, Dottie has a quick mind and sharp memory. Her faith is strong. It sustained her in raising four children, burying her husband and working hard until she retired a year or two ago. Yet, when she talks of dying, it is difficult for all of us to accept what lies ahead.

At this stage in life, Dottie clearly recognizes that our faith is the most precious gift we received from our parents. The challenge of being in the “pre-departure area” is to live that faith to the fullest, relying on the Lord to strengthen us for our passover to new life.

*******
Photo credit: Jugulator/PhotoXpress

Aside from the disturbingly sensational depiction of breastfeeding, the question itself is an intriguing one, and one that gets to the heart of some major social issues in the US.

Too often, women turn against each other in a competitive way. Rather than accepting that we’re all trying to do the best we can, we point fingers and judge about how we raise our children, how we do our jobs, how we eat, how we dress, how much or how little we work out — you name it.

I’ve been seeing the same phenomenon in the Catholic Church lately. Maybe it’s the election cycle; maybe it’s the super-moon. Whatever it is, a lot of our faith community seems to be asking, “Are You Catholic Enough?”

‘Bad’ Catholics?

So let’s talk about that. Heaven knows we have plenty of fodder!

If you’re in favor of gay marriage, are you a bad Catholic?

What if you’re pro-nun and anti-Vatican? Or, what if you’re pro-Vatican and anti-nun?

If you’re married and don’t want children, what does that say about you?

How about if you have friends who do desperately want children and turn to measures such as IVF to conceive?

Can you be Catholic and still support Planned Parenthood?

What does it mean to be faithful?

I truly would like to hear what you think. What makes someone Catholic? Is it purely a spiritual definition? Can someone believe in the faith yet disagree with certain points of social teaching?

What is at the root of our faith community?

What does it mean to you to call yourself Catholic?

————————————————-

Photo: freedigitalphotos.net/a454

This was a tweet I stumbled across from Cardinal Dolan that really resonated with me. I so often fall into the trap of being continually shocked and disappointed when friends or family members fail me in some way—or I perceive that they do. I sometimes forget that they are imperfect humans, as am I.

I also used to lump happiness and joy into the same category, being that happy and joyful are synonymous. I don’t think it was until shortly after my college years that I figured out for myself that false happiness from earthly pleasures is fleeting, while true joy—rooted in God—is constant and unwavering.

One of my favorite examples of true joy manifested comes from St. Maximilian Kolbe. Amidst the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp, this great saint calmly led his fellow prisoners in prayer and song despite intense mental and physical suffering. St. Maximilian’s comfort and happiness might have been eradicated, but the Nazi soldiers couldn’t touch his joy.

Cardinal Dolan’s tweet is like the salvific continuation of a quote you’ve probably seen floating around on various social media sites: “Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.” (This has been attributed to Bob Marley.)

True, Bob, and I do like that quote. But I’d rather have a lasting, true joy amidst the bouts of fleeting suffering and happiness—one that nobody can ever take away from me.

********

Photo credit: Lusoimages/PhotoXpress

Then Tevye sings his question, even more urgently: “Do you love me?” Golde answers, “You’re a fool.” For a third time Tevye sings, “Do you love me?” She answers with, “I’m your wife.” Finally Golde begins her response by pointing out all the things that she has done for him over the years: washing, cooking, laundry, bearing his children, putting up with him, milking the cow.

Tevye persists, “But do you love me?” Finally Golde replies, “After 25 years, why talk about that now?” When Tevye persists yet again she sings:

For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him // Fought him, starved with him // Twenty-five years my bed is his // If that’s not love, what is?

Tevye draws a conclusion: “Then you love me?” Finally, Golde admits, “I suppose I do.” Tevye responds: “And I suppose I love you, too.” Then both sing: “It doesn’t change a thing // but even so // after twenty five years // it is nice to know.”

There is a lot to think about in the lyrics of “Do You Love Me.” Especially on Mother’s Day. This beautiful song from “Fiddler on the Roof” reminds us of all that our mothers have done for us. They are the foundation of our families and the bearers of our culture and faith.

God bless all mothers. Living and deceased.

Photo Credit: Marcel Mooij/PhotoExpress

Dan and I had breakfast together earlier that fatal Friday. He presided for Mass in our public chapel that morning. Dan told me he had a ticket to visit his ailing mother in South Carolina the next morning. The previous weekend we shopped together for some rosaries—two for his Mom and one for my grand nephew’s First Communion.

It is so hard to accept Dan’s sudden death. I find myself asking questions. Did they have an automatic electronic defibrillator at the Sisters’ chapel? There must have been nurses on duty in the infirmity. Did they rush to my fallen brother? Such questions are futile, I know. Maybe they are part of my unconscious denial that something like this happened so suddenly.

All during our community retreat during the days after Dan’s death questions kept erupting. Finally, I was able to view his lifeless body during the wake. There, in his hands, was one of the rosaries Dan had purchased with me, a rosary he intended for his mother. How difficult for his elderly mother, I kept thinking, all during the wake and funeral Mass. But reality sunk into my consciousness as well.

We Cincinnati Franciscans have a traditional hymn we sing at funerals. It was brought from Austria by the missionary friars who came to Cincinnati to serve German speaking immigrants. At friars’ funerals we sing that hymn. The Latin words begin “Ultima in mortis hora.” It speaks of our dying and passing from this life. The words always bring somber thoughts and tears as we sing it in Latin and English. The hymn invokes the Blessed Mother’s aid in our dying moments.

When our day of life is ending,
Mary, with thy Son attending,
Lead us home. To thee we call
Virgin, Mother, Queen of all!

Dan, you went before me into the next life. Let’s keep in touch through prayer until my time comes and I pass over to eternal life.

Photo Credit: Noel Powell, PhotoXpress

I’ve also had trouble with bridesmaid dresses. When I was preparing for my sister’s wedding last fall (I was her maid of honor), I tried on what seemed like tons of dresses before finding something I felt reasonably comfortable in that was still reasonably cute.

My dressing rooms rants went something like this: “I’m not wearing this—it’s too low in the front…Next!…OK I am NOT wearing this—my entire back shows….Next!…Ugh, I’m not even going to bother trying that one on.” And so on. I finally asked the sales person if they had anything modest. She looked at me like I was nuts and basically asked me if I just wasn’t comfortable with my body (or something to that extent).

It’s sad that so many people lack an understanding of the holy sacrament of marriage. Regardless of whether or not one is standing on God’s altar taking vows, our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, made in the image and likeness of God. Our dress should always reflect that.

Many people often (mistakenly) liken modesty to frumpiness, and that’s simply not the case—modesty is a reflection of our true femininity. (If you’d like to read more about this, I would suggest Blessed John Paul II’s Apostolic Letter, “On the Dignity and Vocation of Women.”)

Modest and beautiful (in my opinion!)

In my quest for a modest dress, I recently Googled “modest wedding dresses,” and the first site that popped up was one from the Mormons called “Latter Day Bride.” I was pleased to see these links (to name a few): modest wedding dresses, modest prom dresses, modest bridesmaid dresses, and modest clothing. I love how they use the word “modest” and they have an entire site dedicated to helping women respect the dignity of their bodies. AND, the majority of these dresses are really cute!

It would be great if Catholics had a wedding site like this. Maybe there is one that I’m missing. Until then, I am grateful to our Mormon brothers and sisters!

*********

Featured photo credit: velusariot/PhotoXpress.com

Picture from Latter Day Bride website

This post was also published on Being Catholic blog.

In second grade, one of the things I have never forgotten was how to receive Communion. Hands folded while walking up, left hand on top of the right to receive, say “Amen,” consume the Body of Christ, make the sign of the cross, hands returned to the folded position as you reverently return to the pew. Our folded hands were to be at our waist, not hanging below in a casual manner. If we goofed up, we had to practice again. If we did it right, we had to practice again. It was a very important day and it was a very important thing we were doing. I have never forgotten that lesson.

I’m sure that my experience was not unique. I’m sure that in churches everywhere, second-graders were and are learning what an exciting and important event it is to receive Communion—the Body and Blood of Christ. So, why does it seem that somewhere along the line, we start to forget what it is we’re really doing when we walk up to the front of church? Our folded hands start to slide until they’re just swinging casually at our side as if we were just out for an evening stroll. Our “Amen” keeps getting softer until we may not even say it. How does this happen? Have we forgotten the lesson we learned in second grade, or do we not really believe that it’s Jesus we’re holding in our hand?

The Instruction Redemptionis Sacramentum has this to say: “The faithful should receive Communion kneeling or standing, as the Conference of Bishops will have determined, with its acts having received the recognition [approval] of the Apostolic See. However, if they receive Communion standing, it is recommended that they give due reverence before the reception of the Sacrament, as set forth in the same norms.”

What does that mean—“give due reverence”?

In Thirty Questions on the Instruction Redemptionis Sacramentum, it says:
“Is it acceptable to genuflect before receiving Communion?
The Roman Missal directs that Bishops are to choose a sign of veneration for the faithful when they receive Holy Communion standing. While the sign of veneration chosen by the Bishops of the United States is a simple bow of head, no person should ever be denied Holy Communion because they have made a different gesture.”

Are we treating the Blessed Sacrament with respect and are we truly prepared to receive it? We need to look inside our hearts and honestly ask ourselves if we are giving “due reverence” when we receive Communion. God already knows the answer, so it’s only ourselves we’d be fooling.

************
If you’d like a refresher about how to appropriately receive Communion and the Eucharist in general, here are a couple of links from the USCCB’s website:

Instruction Redemptionis Sacramentum, Chapter 4—Holy Communion

The Reception of Holy Communion at Mass

************
Photo credit: Gina Sanders/PhotoXpress

Back in the day, there was a literacy slogan that said, “Reading is FUNdamental!” I’ll buy that any day. A good book can take you away from the cares of life and bring you into a new and different world. A book can challenge your mind, helping you learn and grow. Books are entertainment, simply pleasure and a wonderful leisure activity.

Before going to work, I start my day out with spiritual reading, anywhere from half an hour to an hour, as the day allows. Right now I’m in the middle of Ilia Delio’s book, Compassion: Living in the Spirit of St. Francis. This book had me at the Introduction, where Delio describes an experience of waiting in an airport, looking at the faces of the passersby and having a sense of the presence of God not unlike Thomas Merton’s experience on Fourth and Walnut in Louisville many years ago.

The work day is taken up with more reading: prospective manuscripts, finished manuscripts, blogs for potential authors and topics, current events, Church news — all are part and parcel of developing product for the Franciscan Media line. Our American Catholic website is a wellspring of information and ideas, too, as are other websites such as the Catholic bishops’ website and the religion section of the Huffington Post.

At night, it’s good to settle in with a newspaper or magazine. I try to keep my subscriptions to what I really read, to save a few trees. And though I’ll eventually convert to online versions of my media, after working on a computer all day, it’s balm to have a tactile product in hand and soothing on the eyes.

Years ago, I worked at a large corporation, as a secretary in the communications department. The head of the department would sit in his office and for at least two or three hours each morning, pour through piles of newspapers, journals, and the like. It was his job to know what was going on in the world, and reading was one of the ways he did that. “If I could only have that job,” I’d dream.

Now I, too, read all day. God is good.

Photo: Stuart Miles /FreeDigitalPhotos.net

How great are the sacraments! We arranged for a priest to visit my dad before he died. Even though dad was mostly asleep at the time, I knew that a great act of God’s mercy was taking place. What a consolation to me, and I’m sure to my dad’s soul, to hear the words of absolution and blessing spoken in faith.

Too often I take the sacraments for granted. On that grace-filled day I saw them as they are—holy encounters with Christ that restore us body and soul. I’m so grateful!

In my father’s last days, I wanted to pray the rosary for him because I believe it is a powerful prayer for the dying. But I’m not very good at praying the rosary, especially when I’m distracted. I had to spend many hours in the car going back and forth and I prayed along with the CD, The Rosary Project: A Celebration of Prayer and Song. Not only did this help me pray the rosary, but it brought palpable peace to my frazzled emotions. Little did I suspect that when I worked with Chris Padgett over a year ago to bring that product into existence that it would be such a blessing for me when I needed help to pray. God does work in strange ways.

Seeing the truth

I had to reschedule a meeting with an author during the days I was attending to my dad. He signed his e-mail response to me with this closing: “In his grip.” I thought about that a lot. I wasn’t doing too well at praying or at finding time to be quiet with God. But God was with me. I was in his grip. How often I feel I am desperately clinging to God, hoping not to lose my grasp. Those simple words helped me see so clearly the truth—he holds on to me. He won’t let me go. In the middle of the storms of life I will not be swept away.

What has helped you in times of sorrow and pain to connect to God? Have you experienced being in his grip?

In the book, Mother Angelica: The Remarkable Story of a Nun, Her Nerve, and a Network of Miracles, Mother Angelica did not always find it easy to live with some of her sisters in the convent: “It was a cross of learning to live with one another…a cross of learning to love,” she said.

These crosses in our lives, however big or small, ultimately lead us closer to God if we unite our suffering and struggles with those of Christ and respond with humility and true charity.

The truth is, no matter what our vocation, God has both joy and sorrow in store for us. It is through these joys and trials—yes, even suffering!—that our souls become polished and we have the opportunity to exercise grace.

The wisdom of the saints on such matters has beautifully paved the way for us. I really identify with the sensitivity of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. (Like me, she is quite sensitive and pensive. Unlike me…she’s a saint.) In her autobiography, The Story of a Soul, she gives an example of one of her childhood friendships—one that she held dear to her heart—ending abruptly for reasons she can’t explain. Thérèse’s friend, who went to visit some family members for a few months, simply lost interest in her while she was gone. Upon her friend’s return, Thérèse rejoiced, while her friend “acted quite cool” toward her. Even at a young age, Thérèse’s wise and humble response to this hurtful shunning astounded me, as she immediately decided she would, “continue to pray for this girl and to love her still.”

There’s a lot about how St. Thérèse lived her short life that never ceases to inspire me. When my feelings get hurt or I’m struggling with a difficult person and trying to figure out how to respond, I often refer to this bit of wisdom from her:

“I now realize that true charity consists in bearing all our neighbors’ faults, never being surprised by their weaknesses, and being edified by their smallest virtues.”
—St. Thérèse of Lisieux

True charity starts with charitable thoughts. Jesus taught us that we should “judge not, lest we be judged.” While this is no doubt challenging, the lives and wisdom of the saints and holy people who went before us (Jesus included!) provide help, encouragement, and shining examples for how we should live our lives.

*******
This post was also published on Being Catholic blog.

*******
Photo © Monkey Business/PhotoXpress