Handmaids V

Sophie's family have invited us to pray the Seven Sorrows of Mary rosary in union with them.

http://www.themostholyrosary.com/appendix1.htm

Each Sorrow is started with an Our Father, followed by seven Hail Mary's.

She is a beautiful witness in her willingness to accept and live out God's will for her.

Please continue to pray.  Thank you for each and every one offered.

Handmaids IV

One soul.  The power of one soul.
We are praying for a miracle ...the miracle is in our midst.  One soul.  Sophie's passion is for one soul ...at a time.
Her one soul, convicted by God's truth, is moving mountains.
One soul, one lost, lonely, proud, greedy, selfish (you name the sin) is why Christ died on the Cross.
To save one soul.  He died for just me ...just you ...just your enemy ...just one soul.  He died for all of us, but just each of us too!
Sophie is one soul ...but a soul driven by her passion to love and serve God and bring every other soul closer to or returned to God.
And that is the passion of one soul, the power of one soul.

Imagine a bunch of teenage girls, different groups, bumping into each other at a local Panera, miles away from the town Sophie lives, spreading the word there is Mass tomorrow for Sophie before school.  "I'll be there, I'll let everyone know!"
Imagine people who've never held a set of beads, pray the rosary for the first time, unafraid of not knowing how to.
Imagine people, away from God, witnessing men, women and children praising God, sad but joyful, knowing Sophie is a witness to Him
Imagine an ardent atheist, joining hands and pleading to our Heavenly Father for Sophie.
Imagine people, unaware, woken for the first time to learn of Our Lady of Guadalupe and her protection of the unborn.
Imagine someone, cynical about large Catholic families, witness nine children leading and praying the rosary, all of them like any other kid from any other family ...except for faith.
Imagine a home filled with shoes and backpacks, sporting equipment ...and a priest in a corner hearing confessions
Imagine ...what one soul ...has done!
Here is the miracle.  No matter what happens ...the miracle has happened.  One soul has grown faith beyond measure.
One soul has set an example for each one of us.  One soul ...that's all it takes to move mountains, to bring others back to God!

On this great feast of the silent Saint Joseph,  may we pray for his intercession.

Please pray!

Handmaids III

Keep praying ...
Sophie is still with us, and we are all praying for miracle ...
No matter the outcome here ... miracles are happening, conversions are happening, Truth is weaving its way into hardened hearts ...God is good, answering each prayer, responding to every opening.  May give each of us the grace to see His hand at work.
Tomorrow is the feast of St. Joseph, a quiet, unassuming man.  His intercession is powerful.  Ask for it!
Mass is being offered tomorrow for Phoebe at 6:30AM on this feast day.
Mass is being offered Friday for Sophie at 6:30AM.  A time when kids can go before school.  My daughter asked for this to happen ...
If you're in the area, join us if you can.  If you're in the area but can't join us, or if you're from out of the area, join us in prayer.
St. Padre Pio said the greatest weapon is the rosary.
He also said the world could survive without the sun more easily than it could without the Mass.

Offer a spiritual communion for your intentions and for Sophie

Act of Spiritual Communion

O Immaculate Queen of Heaven and Earth, Mother of God and Mediatrix of every grace: I believe that Thy dearly beloved Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, is truly, really, and substantially contained in the Most Blessed Sacrament. I love Him above all things and I long to receive Him into my heart. Since I cannot now receive Him sacramentally, be so good as to place Him spiritually in my soul.

O my Jesus, I embrace Thee as One who has already come, and I unite myself entirely to Thee. Never permit me to be separated from Thee. Amen. 

You remain in my prayers ...thank you for all of yours!

Handmaids II

Hi there!
If you have not read the post just prior to this one, please read it first, as this is its continuation.

So let me tell you about last night!
If you're not from around here (the Boston area) you may not know that we broke the snow record last night!  Which means, people traveled in droves to pray for Sophie in really awful weather along terrible roads.
People were undeterred and we parked in her neighborhood, tramped through the snow, all drawn and called to beg Heaven for prayers.
By the time we arrived, the house was packed shoulder to shoulder.  So we stood in her garage, just beneath her, joining hundreds of people praying the rosary!
St. Padre Pio said that the rosary is the greatest weapon!
We were lucky enough to find the shelter of the garage, while many others were out in the falling snow.  Something tells me no one minded a few snowflakes in their hair.
We would not see Sophie, and my daughter, Lucy would not see her friend, one of Sophie's daughters.
That was okay, because the sheer power of prayer and lit candles assured everyone that Heaven would hear us and was even present in our midst.
Sophie has nine children.  She is a wife, mother, nurse, friend ...and fierce promoter and defender of Christ.
The rosary has long been her weapon.
Years ago, when her first daughter headed off to a Catholic high school (the one I graduated from) she started a rosary group.  We heard the baby steps it took to get it going.  She didn't get much (if any) support from the administration.  But, true to Sophie's spirit, she plugged along.  Today that chapel, where she would pray the rosary, sometimes alone, in that school, was packed full of people praying for her. It took a long, long time, but she got that space filled with prayers to God.  And because of who she is, people, who normally wouldn't be praying ...are.  They are lifting their voices to God.  My daughter just came and told me they will be praying in that chapel every day after school for Sophie.  Well done Sophie!
Sophie has lots and lots of friends, and a large, extended family of people who love her.  And lots and lots of people have stories to tell about Sophie.
So it isn't my intent to assume a central position in her life ...but on a spiritual level she holds a central position in mine, along with my other mom friends who've prayed together over the years of my own motherhood!
As I drove home tonight, after visiting Sophie and her family, I called one of my friends, unable to make it to visit her dying friend.  The ride home was a remembrance of that group and that bond ...and what Sophie brought to our group.  My friend reminded me of some of the stories Sophie had shared, and I reminded her of others.  And though we remember different lessons we learned from the 'mom' stories she told, what we both remembered is Sophie's passion.
I got to spend time with Sophie tonight and tell her I love her and how blessed I am that she's been in my life.  Its been years since we all gathered every other Monday to learn about our faith and share our struggles.  But while the time of that group passed away, the bond of that group did not.  I could call any one of them, out of the blue, and it would be as if we had just visited an hour before.
Why is this group so central to my life, such a core of who I am and what my life is about?  Certainly I know other women of strong abiding faith, women who are an incredible witness to God's truth ...defenders of the unborn, spreaders of the rosary, vital members of their faith communities.  So why this group?
And it is a shared perspective from all of us that there is something unique.  Together we gave birth, we raised, we buried, we accepted, we forgave, we celebrated and we mourned.
When I pulled into my driveway, I paused for one more consideration.  I knew my girls would pepper me with questions about Sophie and her family.  These teenage girls of mine were central to that group too.  Memories are burned of moms and kids laughing and sharing, praying and picnicing.  What was it that bonded us so much?
And then it came to me as I remembered my friends comment.  "No one was afraid to be imperfect!"
That's it.  Together we didn't hide our mistakes, or concerns, over reactions ...we were ourselves.  All. the. time.  It was real.
Of course I've spent time with others in prayer, very meaningful and important.  But when I think about it, there was not much room to be imperfect as a group of people.  There were unrealistic standards silently imposed.  If you fell asleep praying the rosary you failed to say it.  If your kids were unruly during night prayer you hadn't taught them character ...yada yada yada.  And no one person imposes this, rather it can become a collective expectation (shh, no one is brave enough to utter our weakness!  including me!) In truth, no one is perfect, no matter how much we might pose!  But more, when we pose like that, we shut down the possibility of finding God ...why would we have to if we've already arrived!  I need God so so much! Because I am so terribly imperfect.  Just ask around!
So back to this group, we were all desperate ...and continue to be ...for God.  We start over every day! and with each other, we were and are not afraid to say it.  Oh, and our kids aren't perfect!  But they are all extremely lovable and bring tons of joy to us.  Even still, they make us want to pull our hair out, because growing up isn't a neat straight line!
In this group, anyone of us could have lost a child!  Any one of us might have lost Phoebe.  From them flowed a lifeboat of compassion that has been a big part of keeping me and all of us afloat.  They share the sorrow.
And then, Sophie, along with other moms from this group, picked the roses from Phoebe's grave, and it was Sophie who had them made into a rosary.  The rosary travels with me in my car.  Sometimes I can't pray the rosary and I just hold it.  It has been there with me now nearly four years.  Its a treasure to me; a link to where Phoebe is.
Tonight, I got to hold it with Sophie.  I told her it would be a relic since it was touching a saint!  Barely able to speak she responded "oh, I don't know about that!".  But I do.
Self deprecating, relentless, unyielding to the pressures of the world ...Sophie.
Please keep praying for her, for her family.
And I will remember you as well

Handmaids

In the traditional prayers of the Catholic Church (which are my preferred!) we pray for servants (men) and/or handmaids (women).  Now we all know this is so politically incorrect it'll cause tomatoes to fly through the air; but I don't really care, because things are a lot different in God's world than they are in the secular.  Hence the title!
I have several posts I never publish because I can't edit or polish them to how I want them to be.mostly, or just because.  So this one isn't going to be a draft.  It'll go from keyboard to publish, unedited, because it is that urgent.
In a recent post, just past Christmas, I wrote about a group of women who have been pivotal in my life before Phoebe died, but even more so after.  They are women I don't see regularly, but are a foundational piece of who I am and how I continue with the struggle to raise a Catholic family in a world quite openly hostile to that.  Without them, I probably would have packed up and left a long time ago.  And they are all handmaids for God.
One of the handmaids, my friend Sophie, is dying!  And she needs a miracle!
I'd seen her just before Christmas, and she described to me what seemed a miracle already.  She'd been very sick, and we were all praying ..and prayers were answered.  I saw and chatted with my old friend as we usually did ...racing the clock, covering many miles in a brief, unexpected meeting.  Together we gave thanks for what seemed a complete healing.
She recently took a sharp turn and she is in urgent need of prayer, and I'm trying to get as many people as I can to beg Heaven for her.
Tonight there is a candlelight prayer vigil at her home with her family.  Please join us!
Let me tell you a little about Sophie.
She is a warrior for Christ!  She is one who is never afraid to mention His name, never afraid to be alienated or mocked for defending him.  Everywhere she went, she spoke of Christ ...everywhere.
Her life is full, and she never asked for a stitch of attention or accolades.  Her calendar, her obligations were overflowing yet she always had time to listen, to share and to spread the possibility of God in your life.
She has red hair and a feisty passion that speaks of the reality of being a mother to a large family and striving to serve God through all of it.  If you went to her home, or she to yours you'd likely find a saint medal tucked inside a pocket.  She wants everyone protected.  In short, she's not a dabbler.
She spoke regularly of her imperfection, her need for God's forgiveness and mercy, and her need to seek His will at every turn.  She never considered herself above or beyond anyone.
Personally, she has helped me become the mother I am today with her humility and honesty and unrelenting trust and hope that God will guide us through.
At 7PM we will gather tonight.
Prayers are not bound by time!  So pray, any time you read this ...pray for her and for her family.
Knowing the life of this handmaid, there is spiritual power to be released regardless the outcome and that can all be used for the good to serve God, to change lives and bring souls closer to their Creator.
Let's all be united in prayer to beg Sophie's healing and in Thanksgiving for all the blessings God offers us.

When the Mighty Fall

I lifted the phone and dialed.  A call I didn't want to make since I sensed it wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear.  The day had already started hard.  One child trapped far from home due to snow had hopefully made it home safely.  And as I stumbled to confirm he was indeed safe, I discovered the train he took to work each day had a fire during his commute time.  Not being a parent ...and just being young, he navigated his stressful morning without letting me know he was okay.  I have triggers ...more than most, I think, because I've already lost one ...am all too familiar it can happen.  When he finally responded, I soared.  But that energy that ties me in knots still lingered.  I wanted to weep ...in gratitude ...in  memory.  So later after I knew my son was safe I picked up messages on my office phone.  As I listened to the familiar voice, and the sparse message, I'd already been primed for sad news.
The work I do is a privilege. I walk the shoreline with people whose lives have been long, but are now winding down.  They know this, and so do I.  I've learned a lot from these seasoned folks, and over time we learn each other's ways ...and we become friends.  I like our elderly and I like to think I have great appreciation for them and the lives they've lived.  From them I glean hope and joy ...and I witness a love that takes decades to grow.  A love that has weathered twists and turns, the unexpected joy and gloom life brings.  And though I do the best I can for each one, some pull the heartstrings a little bit tighter and a little bit closer.  So I didn't want to return that call, but I did.
Walking that line ...being the professional and being the friend, maintaining your proper place ...giving family space ...can challenge.  I fight back my own tears as I hear the inevitable ...he will not make it home.  On the phone, I listen and smile because yes of course the personality would remain vibrant, and of course it would not be the mind, or the passion, or the sheer might that would falter ...it would be the body, the shelter for here.  Earthbound has its limits ...we give out, or give up.  Life here ends.
It's a matter of time, maybe one more rally, one more football game ...just one more.
Every time I am near death I think of Phoebe ...and I think about God and His graciousness.
My friend fought, as we all knew he would, for a few days.  Selfishly, it was enough time for me to tell him how much he'd taught me, how much he inspired me ...and how much I loved him.  And it was enough time to ask Phoebe to greet this great man and let him know again just how much her mom had grown to love him, and grow to be so grateful he'd touched her life.  It is in giving that we receive ...and I received so much from him.
And then he passed, in the deep of night.  God's grace wrapped him I'm sure.  I was able to rise and pull out our beautiful Catholic prayers for the dying, pleading his case.  It may seem a small thing, but it is a gift we can so easily give to each other.  Prayer.  And more prayer.
This was a mighty man.  He was no captain of industry, he had no awards hanging on the wall, his home was small and tidy, he drove a modest car, lived a humble life.  He was content, and satisfied with what he was given.  That is not a common quality today, but it always draws me in because it's how I strive to be too.
As a nurse, he challenged me.  He set up hard boundaries.  It took time to gain his trust, but once I did, we worked with how he was and who he was, and I like to believe he knew I respected his choices.  We had honest conversations, without conflict, both holding our ground.  End of life issues are real and difficult, and they are often not black and white.  Hard choices never had to be made, he was able to slip away ...probably just how he wished.
His family told me they wished I had known him before his illness.  And I listened to their stories ....they knew he was a great man.  To step into anyone's life, at any time is a gift.  And there are meant to be only moments shared sometimes, or brief friendships that leave a mark before dissolving, or relationships fraught with difficulty and tension, or symbiotic friendships that bolster and share ...all types.  Each one, each moment, each span of time is a gift meant for both.
Phoebe's death has given me that view, that nothing here is wasted ...no conversation, no altercation, no handshake or laugh is without meaning or purpose for our eternal story.  I find it hard to always keep that perspective ...to live that perspective.  When I can, gratitude floods me and I know I am a better person in that moment, more like God wants me to be.
For me, stepping into peoples' moments as their earthly life is winding down is pretty special.  Some think it's depressing.  But if we truly believe death is our return to God, it brings a certain joy to be at that threshold with someone else.  Doesn't mean it discounts the pain of loss for others, but it can weave a comfort through the sorrow.  If we truly believe.
We leave something behind, a story.  I'll revisit my mighty friend's story many times, and remember how through knowing him, I teased out a few things I was wrestling with.  He never let on if he knew he was in fact caring for me, teaching me, leading me onward ... he does now, I'm sure.
All of us can see no moment is wasted if we invite God in, allow His grace to weave into our eternal story. That view helps me smile and live in gratitude ...even when I'm sad and missing.
Please pray for my friend and his family ...they are missing a great man!

Witness

Years ago, when I was a 'young' mother and all my children were small, I happened upon a group of other 'young' mothers.  Each, on our own, burned with a desire to learn more about our faith, to understand what it meant, really and truly meant to be Catholic.  In a world, and in parishes where anyone really could believe and do what they wanted, regardless of what our faith taught us, something tugged at each heart.  Grace was planted there in those busy hearts and minds and called us to come and understand what it meant to live a life in the heart of Jesus, under Our Lady's mantle.  In each of us was planted the seed that children are blessings from God, gifts to be given and received with openness and generosity.  Crazy thinkin' according to the rules of the world. And some of us were blessed with piles of kids and others were blessed with fewer! We all met, in a little building, huddled together.  And we all learned and confirmed what we knew called to us ...to not only accept, but to truly live (as best we could, with all sorts of mistakes and failings) our faith out in world hostile to what we believed.  And so we had babies a plenty, and we reared and raised them ...still are in fact!
That was nearly twenty years ago when I was in my early thirties!  Back then, we found the constant care of young ones daunting, demanding and tiring.  Every two weeks, on Mondays we piled our kids in our cars and met in this little building called 'The Shell," to learn our faith, learn from each other and learn from mothers a bit ahead of us.  Under the care of a 'Mrs. Claus' type woman, our children were safely tucked away with cookies and silly play time. Our kids shared stories and sippy cups.  We'd sneak out to nurse a crying child, change a diaper or stop one from biting everyone else.
This was my basic training in the faith.  Raised and educated as a Catholic from the late sixties to the early eighties, I learned the watered down version (pardon my irreverence) of Catholic life.  So truly, it wasn't until I was older with my kids that I began to learn the treasures of our faith along with the unique richness so often ignored today.  And it is an absolute grace given, nothing gained or granted because of anything I've earned.  It is simply a gift.
And the gift of faith came with a great gift of friendship.  I met all these wonderful women, still part of my life today.  Aside from two friends, steadfast since high school, these are the women who share my story.  Some of them I speak to nearly every day, and some maybe only once or twice a year.  And sure some are more intimately tied to my day to day life, but all are part of the fabric ...part of the vine of my life that has not withered and died.
Once a year, I'm pretty sure I'll catch a few of them at an annual Christmas caroling evening, started with a quiet meditation about the holy family and what this season is truly all about.  And in between there are cookies ...lots and lots of cookies.  We have done this for many years now, and it is a staple, a respite in the season.  Everything that I truly want in life, is present.  The focus is the birth of Christ, and I can sit for a few quiet moments praying and talking to Him.  My family is here (not all of us all the time ...but most!) ...even Phoebe is here, because she was such a part of this night.  Deep friendship is here ... and of course, cookies!
As I write this, Christmas has come and gone, a blur.    But I treasure this night, that stays with me long after it's passed.
For years, we exchanged phrases as we dashed to monitor kids, save the punch from being toppled or the cookies being licked only to be put back on the tray.  Their were babies in need of nourishment, crazy toddlers likely to climb Christmas trees or dismantle the manger.  Diapers had to be changed, children were up past bedtime ...we worked this evening or years.  But we KNEW, it was special, we KNEW our kids would remember and treasure this night.  And they do!
But now, so many years later, other mothers chase their children.  Settled in to the routine, our kids find their friends, some they only see this one night.  And we find peace.  It's as if we are free, and we play hooky from the caroling, find a cozy spot ...and we laugh ...with nothing to laugh at ...no words, just the years behind us, the stories of lives twisting and turning unpredictably with joy and tragedy, grace and sorrow, gain and loss, celebration and grief ...we share those stories, because we wove them together.  Our story.
Not everyone is here, but enough of us to remember each woman called to this little haven.  So often, in the world we are the fools ...but here we know we are the wealthy, because we chose God as our core.
The music flows over us from the other room, children find us, aghast at our abandonment of the songs.
We are weary travelers, and we have weathered many storms ...it's our turn to 'just be' with each other.
Phoebe's name isn't mentioned this night ...not needed to be.  She is here, so much a part of all of us.
Christmas comes and passes so quickly.  It's hard to capture the season.  But blinks of comfort moments happen.  Just enough to burn a memory.
When a child dies, for a long time, its hard to imagine anything you did right for them or with them.  All the negative moments surge in and take hold. Guilt and doubt root themselves in the core of every cell.   It takes time for good memories to edge out the not so good.  It takes time ...so much time.
These women witness back to me and remind me of goodness shared with all my kids ...with Phoebe.
That's a priceless gift ...a treasure worth savoring and saving.
Christmas is tucked away, but the comfort of that night lingers.