Day Six

The room was full of laughter at each other’s tales.  The circle of mothers giggled like girls at a slumber party, whispering secrets and telling scary stories.  These stories weren’t stories.  They were, in fact, tales of experiences.  Creepy, exciting, unbelievable stories about spiritual worlds and our brushes with them: premonitions that came true, intuitions that turned into close-calls, and nighttime images that startle in the dark.  Each mom certain of her experience.  The children practiced their gymnastics and the moms nervously laughed about connections to an unknown world.      

Connections.  The word has circled my head as I seek to understand the gift God gave us in the real presence of the Holy Eucharist.  Our connection to Christ.  Our real connection to Jesus.  When I have failed and stumbled and singed the fibers that connect me to others, I am still offered the real presence of Jesus and a connection to all that is beautiful through him. 

I struggle to know the Holy Spirit, to recognize the Holy Spirit.  Just as the travelers did.  They did not expect to see Jesus, they weren’t looking for him, and yet he came to them.  I am seeking the voice of the Holy Spirit, and yet I don’t know the voice, either from being out of practice or by never really knowing it.  Perhaps, I must first tune out the interference that I know is not the Holy Spirit.    

I come to the rosary each night, expecting and hopeful.  And I am never disappointed.  I meditate on the Luminous Mysteries tonight and pray for openness to the Holy Spirit and I learn.  We know the Holy Spirit through our experiences with him, just as the travelers recognized Jesus through the meal together and the disciples knew the risen Jesus through touching his scars. 

I am offered that experience every time I come to the Holy Eucharist.  I am offered that experience every time I meditate on the rosary and every time I reach out to touch the scars that heal me. 

James is waiting at Children’s Hospital.  His youngest brother has an infection.  His mom is torn between comforting sick sons who cannot be near each other.  And they wait.

Day Three

This morning, James and his family traveled to Children's Hospital in a distant state. They need to test all of the children. It's unclear if the disease is hereditary, if one of his siblings may carry the same.

This morning, I opened the back door to let the dogs out and was met with a brisk cold wind.  It chilled me and I wanted to crawl back in bed and back into the warmth.  Today, I ached as I thought of all that is tugging on me, pulling at my attention, needing me at every moment.  And yet, in those quiet moments in the garden, Jesus saw me.  For every of the forty lashes he received, he saw me.  As he was mocked and beaten, and traveled with my cross to the end...he focused on the forgiveness of those around him. 

All my distractions that pull me away: pity, doubt, anger...keep me from recognizing my Lord. 

When I think of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, that they didn't recognize the one person who had changed their lives because they didn't think they would meet him there.  And when I think of the mess I've made of my life and the struggles that I have because of my bad choices all in the name of "finding my own path", I wouldn't think that I would find Him here.  

And so today, I pray the Sorrowful Mysteries and I ask for James. May he and his family recognize your presence and be comforted.

Day Two

The readings today tell the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Jesus's disciples did not recognize him.  Recognize, Listen, Learn--and Teach. 

Today was the Luminous Mysteries.  I come prepared to receive. 

And for my young friend, whom I offer this novena for...he is on his way to a bigger children's hospital. 

He is a boy in need of a miracle.

Day One

I offer this for James.  And for your glory.  You've shown your goodness and your Son to me.  Thank you for spending this time with me.  Please guide me.  Be my Mother.  Comfort James.  And his family. 

Joyful.  Joyful.  Joyful mysteries. 

First, you remind me.  Humility.  He is not mine.  He is a gift from God.  I must treat him as such.
 
Second, you whisper to me.  Community, charity. There are so many to minister to in each moment.

Third, you guide me.  Through things not made by man. As the star guided the shepherds and the wise men.

Fourth, you reveal to me. Purity. It is found in the execution of the minutae.

Fifth, you teach me.  Keep searching. 

I offer this for James.  And yet, it is I who receive the grace.