Spiritual

First Sunday of Advent

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One of the things I became re-acquainted with when I began to attend Mass at the Catholic Church was the liturgical calendar. I had never realized that just like an Asian New Year and a Jewish New Year, there was also a Catholic New Year, and it begins with Advent.

Once Thanksgiving is over, many move into Christmas mode. After all, it is the Christmas season.

There is the misconception.

The Christmas season doesn’t actually begin until Christmas Eve, the Vigil of the Nativity. The song, The Twelve Days of Christmas…well, those twelve days begin on December 26 and conclude on January 6, also known as Three Kings Day, Los Posadas, Epiphany, and Twelfth Night. That was the traditional day to receive presents. When I was involved in medieval re-enacting, we often gave gifts and celebrated Twelfth Night.

After Thanksgiving, begins the season of Advent, the time of waiting; waiting for the birth of the Christ child. Like Lent it is an anticipatory time. We reflect on the past year that’s concluded. We begin a new Gospel cycle. This is the A year – Matthew. I am very fond of Matthew. It was his Gospel year when I first joined the church and I took a great lecture series on his gospel. I learned a great deal and so I became very attached to him.

Today, our church gave out a Daily Reflection book for Advent and Christmas. This one is compact and gives you something each day to read. It takes about five minutes or so, and you can meditate longer if you have the time and the inclination. Personally, I’m going to try and sit quietly with a cup of tea while I read and reflect.

I read the Introduction and then turned the book over to read the description on the back. The blurb recommending the book at the top caught my eye, and then I realized that the blurb was written by my godmother. A surprise that brought a smile to my face.

Front of the book given out by my church for the Advent Season.


Back of the book with the description and a blurb about the author, Bishop Robert F. Morneau.


There are many Advent resources offered in paper form, online or as e-books. I will sometimes buy the e-book of whatever the book is that my church gives out so I can read it on my Kindle, only if the price is reasonable.
One of the things I love about these little books is the change and the challenge to do a daily meditation as well as the Introduction to a book that I might not have ordinarily found on my own.

The Advent wreath is up, the banners are changed, the colors are purple, the incense is fragrant. Now the waiting begins, and a new search for something wonderful on this Advent journey.

Later in the week, I will share some other resources for your Advent journey.

8/8 –  Year of Mercy

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On this last Sunday of he Year of Mercy, I look forward to the next year as I try to continue with ther merciful acts that I did in this past year. Not only the acts of mercy done for others, but for me as well. One of the lectures I went to last year was how to bring mercy into my own life, and to give myself mercy. We are our own worst critics after all.

In addition to today being the last day of the Year of Mercy, it is also the Feast of Christ the King and the last Sunday of the Catholic Year. Advent begins next week as we wait for the Nativity and the birth of Jesus.

As long as this year was, allowing me to cross the threshold of the holy door and visit shrines, take a variety of one day pilgrimages, pray and meditate on mercy and moving forward with myself in all the ways that I want to move forward, it also went very quickly. I was less concerned with the plenary indulgences as I was with giving myself a gift of myself.

From Pope Francis’ Instagram today:

“Even if the Holy Door closes, the true door of mercy which is the heart of Christ always remains open wide for us.”

Insta – Morning of Service

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A glimpse of my parish’s Morning of Service in conjunction with the Pope’s Jubilee Year of Mercy. Top left, clockwise: Room assignments, Information/Registration table, sample rosary bracelet (which was one of the projects), worship aid for our prayer service prior to the volunteering, Fr. J during the worship service, our volunteers at the service. In the center: Magnet for all participants. (c)2016

After months of planning, my parish’s Morning of Service was finally held on November 5, 2016. We had over two hundred fifty live bodies to work on projects for a variety of community organizations, both off-site and on-site at the parish. In addition, there were dozens more who donated items and money to complete the projects.

We will meet in January to discuss how things went (fabulously) and make preliminary plans for next year’s Service Day.

I was at the information table for the morning, and I will tell you that when people left they were just as happy as when they arrived. No complaints about the early day, smiles on faces throughout the day, all ages. It was wonderful to see it in real time how this affected the volunteers in such a positive way.

It was one of the most fulfilling days I have had the pleasure to spend, and I can’t wait to continue to offer ideas for the next one and participate.

Reflection at St. Kateri’s Shrine

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​[Note: This reflection ended up encompassing many things: travel, spirituality, prayer, politics, and again part of my year of mercy. I hope you enjoy all that it is, and that you see the National Shrine in Fonda, NY one day yourselves. It is a very peaceful place to visit, to sit, and to pray.]



In the early part of November, just because I was in the neighborhood, I decided to visit the Shrine of St. Kateri Tekakwitha. I had a lot on my mind and in watching what was continually unfolding at Standing Rock in North Dakota, I felt helpless towards a people that had captured my imagination and inspiration since I was a child.

I remember playing cowboys & Indians. That was a thing in the 1970s. I always wanted to be an Indian. In college I chose a class titled North American Indians as my anthropology elective. As a preschool teacher, I changed the curriculum for Thanksgiving to avoid making headdresses. I added Native foods to our school’s Thanksgiving feast. Instead of the headdresses, we made more Native American crafts and listened to the drum beats and chanting of Native American music. I can still hear the cassette in my mind as I write this.

On the hill above the Shrine, I went up to the spring, but when I followed the signs to the spring, and walked through the crunchy leaves carpeting the path, I saw the way down and the supporting handrails. I could hear the water.

But I was alone and the rest of the way was steep and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to climb back up, so I missed the spring. I chose not to go down on the slippery leaves. I still felt okay, though, because the spring was the cherry.

At the Shrine, I stood by St. Kateri’s plaque which included the dates of her veneration and canonization. I looked out passed the sign of the cross to the rustic looking buildings to the close knit trees, their narrow trunks rising into the sun. The sun was bright that day, coming down in rays through the pines. The green grass was beginning to be covered in their shedding pine needles.

The buildings themselves were closed for the season, but you can’t close the sky or the air or the land.

I stood there and I prayed. I asked St. Kateri for her intercession for North Dakota and the Sioux and their companions and their supporters. Water protectors. An end to DAPL. An end to the violence against them by more people trying to take their land. Again.

There were water protectors in Bismarck – the citizens and politicians. Dogs weren’t sicced on them. They changed the route to the pipeline. Maybe if there were water protectors in Flint, Michigan they wouldn’t have allowed lead to be in the water.

I guess you could call this a kind of pilgrimage; with purpose and spirit. It was spontaneous and it felt right and it fit in with everything I was trying to do in this past Year of Mercy. I was guided to action, something I could actually do and my heart swelled.

I prayed for peace and I prayed for resistance and strength and the outcome that protects the land and the spirit of the land for everyone who comes after us.

At the Shrine, at the Native American Peace Grove, is the following prayer:

Speak evil of no one, if you can say no

Good of a person, then be silent.

Let not your tongues betray you into

evil. For these are words of our Creator.

Let all strive to cultivate friendship

with those who surround them.

-Handsome Lake – Iroquois Prophet

7/8 – Year of Mercy: Reconcilation

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​On this, the second to last weekend of the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, I had scheduled my topic as reconciliation. I wasn’t sure quite what I was going to write about, but there the word said in my planner:

Nov. 13 – 7/8 Reconciliation

It kept getting pushed back and I wondered why. It seems G-d had other plans for this post, which is good because the act of reconciliation, of confession, is still not an easy one for me. I just don’t know how to do it or what counts. Do I ask forgiveness for cursing when I will continue to curse? I don’t know. Perhaps one day it will come to me. My priest is a very patient man.

Today, however isn’t about the Catholic rite of reconciliation, but of reconciling two sides, two passions, two opposites that must come together now or risk tearing it apart forever. Finding mercy for ourselves and for others.

Almost one week ago, on Tuesday, I went from thrilled to happy and excited to numb. When I went to bed at 2:30am nothing was decided, but I knew. The outcome was clear.

What I didn’t know was if I could face the morning of Wednesday. How would I explain this new world to my daughter? Even my son was worried before bed and I reassured him not to worry; that Donald Trump would not become our president. Our country was too strong for that.

As I said earlier today, this isn’t about my candidate losing. It’s about what we allowed to happen over the last fifteen months. Journalists can never give a pass again.

But right now, in the aftermath of an election where in reality apathy won, it is time to stop and breathe and reconcile.

Regardless of where we stand on any one issue, we still must work together. We still must move forward. Together. We don’t have to like our president – Republicans proved that for the last eight years, but we do need to work with him and I can promise you that we will work more cooperatively with him than his party worked with the last president. Cooperation and not obstruction. Maybe we can teach them a thing or two about humanity and grace and dignity. We will stand up for what’s right.

We will reconcile our feelings, our emotions and make sure that we are all on the side of ALL Americans no matter their party or race or religion or gender or any of the other things that make us individuals.

We are all in this together and we can be the example that we talk about setting for our children and our neighbors and our friends.

I have faith in us.

6/8 – Year of Mercy – Service

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In two weeks, the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy will conclude with the closing of the Holy Doors across the world, including at my home parish, and so this is a time to think back, to reflect on the past year, and what it meant to me personally.

In addition to the several things I’ve done or experienced in the past year, one of the ways to be a part of the year of mercy is by doing merciful acts.

In the Catholic Church, there are seven Corporal Works of Mercy:

1. Feed the hungry

2. Give drink to the thirsty

3. Clothe the naked

4. Shelter the homeless

5. Comfort the sick

6. Visit the prisoners

7. Bury the dead

Earlier in the year, I was asked to volunteer for a ministry, a committee to plan and implement our church’s first Morning of Service, where our parishoners come together on and off site to do volunteer works along the lines of those corporal works. Our day of service was held yesterday to great success.

We had over two hundred people offer their services and dozens more donate items. There were groups making pet beds, rosaries, Welcome Bags for the Ronald McDonald House, visiting nursing homes, painting community rooms, building homes for Habitat for Humanity and a plethora of other works that look small and insignificant until you put them all together and see how they impact those on the receiving end.

In my short time with this parish, I have seen so many giving so much in the name of service. It astounded me at first, but now it makes me happy to be part of such a giving group as this. I continue to try and do my part to varying degrees and varying amounts of success, but I try, and that is most important.

I can’t express the feelings granted from giving. It is overwhelming and almost too much. It defies description.

While next year, there will be no jubilee, no Year of Mercy, what was begun this last year by Pope Francis and taken on by parishoners all across the world will continue through our committees, our ministries, and our parishoners.

Once the step forward is taken, it cannot be taken back.

50-36 – Memorial Cardinal

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​My mother-in-law loved her backyard. She worked harder than anyone I know on her flowers. No special mixes or soil. Her fertilizer was some compost – egg shells and fruit peels. Every spring, bags and bags of dirt, but as I said, nothing special. 

The front of the house looked nice, and inside she had a Christmas cactus that was pretty for the one week it bloomed, but the backyard was her special place. Gorgeous giant sunflowers grew along the back fence. She couldn’t wait to get rid of the mulberry tree that ruined everything around it. There was a crabapple tree that she hung windchimes and the occasional birdhouse on. It looked like a fairy playland.

When we visited in the spring, usually around Easter, we drove her to Home Depot for dirt. Pounds and pounds of dirt, and before we knew it, it was gone and she needed more, so off we’d go for a second trip to Home Depot. She didn’t drive, and she couldn’t carry that much on the bus.

She grew herbs and tomatoes, and we were sent home with dozens of them every spring.

After a while, the full garden became too much, and she began container gardening. It was unbelievable how nice the containers flourished. I’ve never seen containers grow so well. She had a green thumb, and passed it on to my husband who’s really great in our garden. He grew two pumpkins or gourds and we were all excited when we brought them into the house.

When we were visiting in June, she asked about her garden, so I took some pictures on my cell phone and brought them into the hospital to show her. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of any kind of technology; she got an air conditioner for the first summer in 2014 or ’15, but she was excited to see the pictures of the bright yellows and purples of her perennials that never disappointed her.

She died unexpectedly a few days later.

We drove down the following weekend for the memorial service. We had planned to take a few of the roots to bring some of her garden home with us. We’ll have to wait for spring to see how they’re doing. We might have to go back and retrieve a few more roots in the spring.

While I was in the bathroom getting ready for the service I noticed a bright, red bird through the window, outside in the backyard. A cardinal. He sat there long enough for me to get my cell phone and take a bunch of pictures including one that was mid-flight when it took off.

it seemed like an odd time for a single bird to show up.

Cardinals were my mother-in-law’s favorite bird.

50-34 – Stonehenge

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I’ve been once. Very nearly thirty years ago. What is most amazing apart from the stones themselves and the sacred space itself is how much of the feelings remain with me after so many years away.

I’ve always had a thing for rocks. Pebbles and larger, colored and polished, rough, formations that can’t be moved no matter how hard you try. When I returnd to Wales in 2009, I touched the stones of castles and rock formations, and almost none gave me the feeling that I experienced at Stonehenge.

I was lucky when I went. You could still touch the stones and move in and out, around them and about. There were some ropes to keep you from sitting on the flat ones, and of course, they didn’t want you climbing, but just being there, surrounded by the cool plains air, the cold to the touch stones, gigantic, and not just tall but broad and sturdy.

The sun was setting. We were one of the last buses allowed in for the day, and I was very thankful. This was our only chance to visit, and this was one of the important places that I wanted to see. To touch. To feel. To be.

If you’ve never been to a place of great spirits, you can’t imagine the electricity coming off of not only the stones, but the ground below them. I’ve been to Gettysburg, and I imagine Standing Rock in North Dakota has the residual of all that has gone before it, but Stonehenge….Stonehenge is in an entirely other category; another world.

You almost don’t notice the other tourists. I was spellbound, moving from one monolith to the next, placing my hand, palm flat against the cold, rough edifice. I didn’t have to imagine what had gone before in this place; I could feel it: the heartbeat. The pulse, the pulsating of life, of forever.I never wanted to leave.

The sky dimmed and then darkened, the powerful stones becoming shadowed and dark against the darkening sky. I can remember leaving, sitting in the bus, looking out the window at the stones growing smaller as we ambled slowly away, getting further and further distant, and yet, they are still with me; within me.

There is magic there, so much that it is able to let a little bit leave with its visitors and keep them in touch with the pulse of the land, the stones, the past, and the future, and of course, whatever else we believe is out there, be it Druidic or Diety, Nature or Nurture, Spirit and Faith.

It’s taken thirty years to get this much down, and I still feel more wanting to bubble up, but not ready – I’m not ready to let it all out. I want to be selfish and keep it inside for me alone. It can’t be shared in a way that anyone else can feel what I feel. It’s too much to share so I’ve shared what I could.

(c)1987, (c)2016


(c)1987 (c)2016


Amazing. (c)1987, (c)2016


Stonehenge. (c)1987, (c)2016


Sunset at Stonehenge. (c)1987, (c)2016

5/8 – Year of Mercy – Intentions

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It always amuses me when things do not go as planned but still they go, and then it’s okay or even better.

I arrived this monring at church intent on writing for about half an hour or so. Instead, I spied the holy door and my intent changed to going through the holy door first, one more time. I prayed the prayer that Pope Francis provided for the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy. I prayed the prayer on the door, and I entered. I was greeted with sounds of the choir practicing. Acapella. Beautiful. The church was still dim, lights not on yet; only natural light filtering through the skylight and the stained glass. It reminded me of my first few days visiting the church.

Before I could take my seat to write before the mass began, I was stopped by a good friend. She was telling me how she and her husband started watching The Walking Dead. They started with season one and are a few episodes into season two and they love it. This made me smile. It shows me not to make assumptions. I would never have recommended that she watch it but so glad she enjoys it.

I was also stopped by my morning of service committee chairperson to tell me I was on my own at the registration table next week. Instead of my usual dread of such a thing, the change, the unexpected, I was not only relieved but thankful I’d volunteered for the registration in the front place.

Mercy and gratitude are everywhere.

You don’t even need to look very far to discover it.

4/8 – Making Time for G-d

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​Entrance Antiphon

To you I call; for you will surely heed me, O God; turn your ear to me; hear my words. Guard me as the apple of your eye; in the shadow of your wings protect me. Cf. Ps 17 (16):6, 8

Luke 18:1-8 

Jesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary [1]. He said, “There was a judge in a certain town who neither feared God nor respected any human being. And a widow in that town used to come to him and say, ‘Render a just decision for me against my adversary.’ For a long time the judge was unwilling, but eventually he thought, ‘While it is true that I neither fear God nor respect any human being, because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me.’” The Lord said, “Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them? I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily. But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

[1] Emphasis mine.
In my priest’s homily on this most recent Sunday, he asked for us to make time for G-d in our daily lives. Like the widow in going to the dishonest judge, we should go to G-d with a consistency and persistency that can’t be ignored, but more than that, our consistency and persistency isn’t only for G-d to hear, but for us to project.

Looking at our everyday lives, some weeks, and days, it’s easier to find time for G-d, but how often do we make time for G-d?

Some weeks have a built in time and space for G-d and for our prayer and meditation. For me, this week, I have three times already built in. Sunday’s weekly mass, Monday’s anointing or healing mass, and Tuesday night’s Living Rosary.

As I write this, it is after that night of the Living Rosary. I went last year as well, and it is a very beautiful event. It is 56 people holding candles in a circle reciting the rosary. I sat down, said hello to my Sunday seatmate who was also there when one of the choir came over and asked if I wanted to participate. Um…no. I blinked and turned around. “What exactly would. I need to do?” That is how I became a Hail Mary bead and part of the living rosary. I will probably volunteer next year.

It’s not just time for G-d, but keeping an open heart when He calls us to Him.

What other ways can I make the time to include G-d in my day?

One way is this piece of writing. I have four more after this post until we reach the end of the Extraordinary Jubilee Yea of Mercy. I will continue to think about mercy and meditate on the past year, but in these next five posts (including this one) I have a weekly session thinking about G-d’s mercy and love.

I can choose two days at home to pray the rosary. This month is the month of the rosary, a time that we can feel closer to Mary and consequently her son and His Father.

Looking out of the window at the brightness of the leaves, holding tight to the branches even in the breeze; the reds and oranges glowing like fire, the ones that have fallen spreading a carpet across the front yard. How can I not think of G-d in those simple moments?

He is all around me, and the more consistently that I think on Him, search for Him, and see Him in all the spaces that I inhabit, the more persistently He comes to me and spreads his mercy on my like a blanket of leaves, nature and warmth and His love.