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I believe animals are one of God's blessings in our lives. Here is the story of how Adeline the Cat, a true blessing to me, came to live with me.
One Friday afternoon last fall, I was sitting next to my piano student as she played her lesson for me at her home and a little tabby cat that I’d never seen there before hopped up into my lap and settled in. As I petted her (and she purred!), my student told me that she had wandered into their yard a few days earlier and appeared to be abandoned because she apparently had no desire to leave. She was very thin and so we started to conjecture that maybe someone had lost his/her job and could no longer afford to keep her and so let her loose, hoping she’d find a good home. Or maybe the owner was elderly and had to move to a nursing home and her kids just let the cat loose, not caring what happened to her…As it turned out, none of our guesses were correct. And, for that, we were all so very thankful!
This cat is unusual. The mother of my piano student told me she’d never seen anything like it. When she arrived in their yard and was confronted by their two large barking dogs, she just sat still, as if to say, “Is THIS all you’ve got to show me, you guys? You’re kidding, right?” She didn’t tense up, she didn’t hiss, she didn’t run away. From her reaction, we wondered if she’d lived with dogs. As the days progressed, she showed that she was clearly an indoor cat and the resident cat took great umbrage at this and became quite jealous. She would not be able to stay. That’s where I came in…
I’d been contemplating getting a cat for a little while. Never mind that I had never actually HAD a cat…I just thought it would be nice to have animal life in my house again. My dog Daisy had died several years before and I knew I couldn’t get another dog because my schedule is too hectic. I had no idea if I was a cat lover or not. (Apparently, the cat lover in me lay dormant for all these years because it turned out, YES, I LOVE cats…or at least this one!) All I knew for sure was I wanted a cat who would enjoy sitting on my lap, was pretty docile, who was declawed and who wouldn’t scoff at my long work hours or my piano playing AND would be good with the grandkids. I didn’t think I was asking for too much!
I took her home. The first thing she and I did was go through the entire house, top to bottom (literally…she jumped up about 7 feet and landed on top of a bookcase; scared me half to death—-who knew cats could jump like that!). She used the litter boxes I’d set up (one upstairs, one downstairs, as advised by my friend who has had probably 20 cats in her lifetime and is the ultimate cat lover). From the very beginning, it was as if she had lived here all her life.
The first week, I swore she acted more like a dog than a cat. She followed me everywhere. She slept with me, making sure at least one of her paws was somewhere on me. The first few nights, she and I “partied” at 3 AM. She licked and licked my face and groomed my hair and sat on me and ran around the bed and then around the house and then stood by her food dish, meowing for me to fill it up NOW. Of course, being the cat owner neophyte I was and not knowing any better, I gave her everything she so desired. After all, we were bonding and 3 AM is my usual time-to-be-up-in middle-of-the-night-for-a-while time so I was basically awake anyway.
After the first week, she became more cat-like. She was still always around me but now she let me sleep through the night, without the intensive grooming. (Apparently, I must have looked pretty good to her by then!) I was grateful for the peaceful night’s sleep. And, when I’d come home, she’d look at me, as if to say, “Oh, I see you’re home. Big deal! I’m staying put.”
Then, she went through a stage when I'd come through the door, she’d be nowhere to be found for at least an hour. I think she wanted me to know that, when she deigned to make an appearance in my presence, it would be on HER time schedule, not mine. She still slept with me but usually not the entire night and rarely needed to touch me as she slept. I believe she settled into ruling the roost at my house quite nicely!
Nowadays, I can hear her meowing at the door after I pull into the garage and get out of my car. She's learned to recognize the garage door opening. She meows ferociously after a 12 hour day of being alone, as if to chastise me soundly for not being there with her. For the next few minutes, she and I lie on the couch--I on the couch, she on me. She purrs and I pet her. I tell her I know her life is strictly meant for de-stressing mine and it's working quite nicely.
When I was searching for a name for her, I wanted a saint’s name. I settled on “Sweet Adeline”. Since I am a musician, I thought of the women’s barbershop organization, the Sweet Adelines, AND, in doing a bit of research, I discovered a nun from the 12th century named Blessed Adeline (she’d not been declared a saint yet…) who was an abbess of a Benedictine monastery. Now, the roots of my childhood go back to Duluth where I was educated by the Benedictine nuns there from kindergarten through college. It was perfect! I’d call her Addie, for short.
About a month after I'd gotten Addie, she had several vomiting episodes and not just a tiny bit due to an errant hairball. I knew she was sick when I’d just vacuumed and I noticed a long thin string of what looked like spaghetti next to her vomit. Worms! I called the vet who is in my neighborhood the next morning and got her in right away. Sure enough, it WAS worms and I was given medication to squirt in her mouth.
During the visit to the vet’s, the doctor wondered if Addie had a microchip in her to identify her owner. When she checked it out, she did! We were able to get a lot of information about the previous owner…like, dang it (just kidding!), her name and phone number. We HAD to call her…I’d been saying all along that if the owner could be found, I would gladly give her back because it was so clear that this was one well-loved cat. If I had been the owner, I would always wonder what had happened to her. So, I sat, waiting, while the phone call was made. No answer. Maybe she was dead! (Sorry, Lord…) A message was left. Now, I just had to wait it out. The doctor said that, if she didn’t respond for a week, we could assume Addie was mine. We found out that she was 10 years old and that her name was Gucci. I joked that no wonder she didn’t come when I called “ADDIE”. They said she’s a CAT; she probably wouldn’t come to the name Gucci either!
One of the heartwarming pieces to this story is when I went to the front desk to pay the bill at the vet’s. The receptionist told me there would be no charge. I asked how that could be and she said it’s not my responsibility. I said, well, it MIGHT be, if I get to keep her. She said just bring her in for regular checks and rabies shots. I told her I could do that and thanked her over and over.
I went home to squirt the worm medicine in Addie’s mouth. (I got most of it in!) I thought about having to give Addie up. It was going to be okay. Surprisingly, I wasn’t sad, although I really hoped I could keep her. She was such a wonderful cat! However, maybe she was in my life for a short time to show me how endearing cats can be and teach me about them so I would find another cat to love, too. It was God’s plan, one way or another!
The vet had given me all the information she’d learned about Addie. Name, owner’s name, address, phone number, that she’d been spayed and was 10 years old. I looked up on whitepages and mapquest about the owner. I discovered her first and middle names are Joanne Marie, the same as mine! I learned that she lived exactly 2 miles from where she’d ended up at my student’s home. If this cat could only talk! I had a feeling she’d had some interesting adventures in her journey to me.
That evening, I retrieved a message from Jo, the owner. She relayed how shocked she was that “Gucci” had been found. She said Gucci had been gone for 2 and a half months and she’d just gotten another cat a month ago. (I realized that Addie had been out on her own for a whole month before she was taken in. How in the world did she survive? She must be a better mouser than she wants me to know in her current situation! One good thing about it all was we’d both get our questions about Addie/Gucci answered by one another.) She thanked me for taking such good care of her. She said she didn’t know what she was going to do because her landlord wouldn’t allow her to have two cats. Well, I knew what she could do! I immediately called her back and left a message, pleading my case. I told her how grateful I was for Addie, explaining what I’d called her. I said I would love to keep her and she could have visiting rights any time she wanted.
I received a message the next morning, granting me permission to keep her and asking for a call back to tell her how Gucci ended up with me. That morning I realized that it was October 20th, the feast day of Blessed Adeline! I had a strong feeling that even Blessed Adeline was somehow in on this whole thing.
I would never have guessed this would be how it would turn out. What a blessing for both Joannes in Addie's life! Jo found out what happened to her and I got to keep the sweetest, most adorable, awesome, greatest cat in the world (well, at least SHE thinks so!). It certainly is an unlikely blessing, given all the circumstances of this story. And, guess what? It turns out she DOES answer to Gucci so now I call her Gucci Addie. An unusual cat, indeed, AND a great blessing to me!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
praising God
I had to go for a check-up today. (Good news. My A1C count is down quite a bit and almost within normal range!) While I was at the doctor's office, I had the opportunity to observe an interaction between a nurse and a nurse practitioner. The nurse was being rather crabby and the nurse practitioner was trying her best to be patient, kind and solicitous. It wasn't going well. I was thinking, I, myself, have only been able to get the nurse to laugh once. She's generally pretty sullen! When I was leaving, I almost ran into a man who was going through the door at the exact same time. I smiled my widest smile and excused myself. He excused himself, too. Our mutual sharing of good manners made me feel good.
These left me thinking about how we come across to the people with whom we interact. I know the way we do can make a big difference. Do we spread God's sunshine by presenting joy and kindness or do we walk around with a chip on our shoulders, daring people to knock it off?
I'd rather present God's love to people. I think I'm somewhat successful because some people call me "Sunshine" and sometimes I can see people visibly relax as we talk and people seem to respect me. I never see the point in being cranky. Of course, a lot depends on my being responsible to get enough sleep, eat correctly, etc. How our bodies feel has an impact on our moods. Yet, I know it's much more than that. If we love God with all our hearts, minds and souls, we can't help but spread love wherever we go. And, in my experience, people will tend to respond positively.
The challenge is to be godly even when we are going through rough patches or don't feel very happy ourselves. I try very hard to have the same sunny disposition, no matter what is happening in my life. It wasn't always so. When Mary died, it took me three years to emerge from the intense grief. I remember my husband told me I had to snap out of it and get on with life, 2 years into it. I just looked at him. I had no idea how to do that. And, his words spoke volumes as to how it was with me--definitely not sunshine! Today, I know that I would rely totally on God's grace if something like that happened. I would see my suffering as a gift because suffering is an opportunity to grow closer to Him. And, maybe, just maybe, my earthly suffering would be a credit toward how long I will have to suffer in purgatory. (There's always a self-centered angle, isn't there?) We are here to help one another grow closer to God. Can we really do that by being crabby with each other?
These left me thinking about how we come across to the people with whom we interact. I know the way we do can make a big difference. Do we spread God's sunshine by presenting joy and kindness or do we walk around with a chip on our shoulders, daring people to knock it off?
I'd rather present God's love to people. I think I'm somewhat successful because some people call me "Sunshine" and sometimes I can see people visibly relax as we talk and people seem to respect me. I never see the point in being cranky. Of course, a lot depends on my being responsible to get enough sleep, eat correctly, etc. How our bodies feel has an impact on our moods. Yet, I know it's much more than that. If we love God with all our hearts, minds and souls, we can't help but spread love wherever we go. And, in my experience, people will tend to respond positively.
The challenge is to be godly even when we are going through rough patches or don't feel very happy ourselves. I try very hard to have the same sunny disposition, no matter what is happening in my life. It wasn't always so. When Mary died, it took me three years to emerge from the intense grief. I remember my husband told me I had to snap out of it and get on with life, 2 years into it. I just looked at him. I had no idea how to do that. And, his words spoke volumes as to how it was with me--definitely not sunshine! Today, I know that I would rely totally on God's grace if something like that happened. I would see my suffering as a gift because suffering is an opportunity to grow closer to Him. And, maybe, just maybe, my earthly suffering would be a credit toward how long I will have to suffer in purgatory. (There's always a self-centered angle, isn't there?) We are here to help one another grow closer to God. Can we really do that by being crabby with each other?
Friday, January 22, 2010
no coincidences
It's no coincidence that I was raised by two devout Catholic parents who believed in Catholic education for their children. It's no coincidence that I was then educated by Benedictine Sisters from kindergarten through college. It's no coincidence that I majored in music and have had many opportunities to be active in music ministry in parishes wherever I have lived for over 35 years. It's no coincidence that I was once in a parish where one of the priests was longing to have a music ministry (that would eventually take him all over the country) and I became his informal accompanist every Friday afternoon for a couple of years so he could hone his singing talent. It's no coincidence that this same priest returned to my city to give his retreat at a parish that did not have an accompanist (a requirement for his retreat) so I asked if I could do it. It's no coincidence, then, that six months later, when the same parish was looking for a music director, the pastor remembered my playing at the retreat and the parish secretary called me to ask if I would apply for the job. It's no coincidence that I was hired and the church is next to the Franciscan Brothers of Peace friary. It's no coincidence that I have spent 6 years, accompanying for Mass at the convent of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd. (I have learned so much from them.) It's no coincidence that I was hired to direct a pro-life crisis pregnancy center, where I have grown by leaps and bounds spiritually and become passionate about helping the unborn and their mothers. It's no coincidence that I grew up to be a wife and mother, where I learned about sacrifice and self-giving (AND have the most awesome children and grandchildren as a result!). It's no coincidence that my annulment did not magically bring forth a husband for me (!). It's no coincidence that I had the privilege to attend our auxiliary bishop's ordination last June. (It felt as though I was in heaven those 3 hours...the most beautiful Mass I have ever experienced.) It's no coincidence that this particular bishop is the one I have been feeling called to ask to be my spiritual director. It's no coincidence that I had an opportunity to speak with our auxiliary bishop tonight at a social function, asking him if I could meet with him--I told him why--and he said he could do it in February. It's no coincidence that I had enough time with him to tell him about our 13 year old client who was raped and is now pregnant, contemplating abortion and to ask him to pray for her. He asked for her name and he said he would pray for her.*
I believe all of these things and more have been overseen by God so that, one day, He would be able to offer me an opportunity to serve Him as a nun at a time I would be open to listening to what He had to say to me. Well, I'm not sure how my telling the bishop about the client led to this but I have a feeling it did and I will know how it did, eventually...
*I pray that, one day, I will be able to tell her child how an entire community--priests, brothers, sisters and a bishop, as well as many lay people--prayed for his or her safe delivery into this world.
I believe all of these things and more have been overseen by God so that, one day, He would be able to offer me an opportunity to serve Him as a nun at a time I would be open to listening to what He had to say to me. Well, I'm not sure how my telling the bishop about the client led to this but I have a feeling it did and I will know how it did, eventually...
*I pray that, one day, I will be able to tell her child how an entire community--priests, brothers, sisters and a bishop, as well as many lay people--prayed for his or her safe delivery into this world.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
a calling
On Tuesday, November 17, 2009, I was at Mass, listening to the homily, thinking about my little granddaughter Ellie (Elizabeth) because it was the feast day of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. Suddenly, out of the blue--or so it seemed!--came the thought, "You must begin a new religious order." I was startled by this. Where was THAT coming from? I had never ever considered such a thing!
I passed the next days, crying and praying...and wondering. Was this from God or was it just an odd thought of mine passing through? I decided that IF this was truly a call from God, I wouldn't want to get to the end of my life and hear God ask me why I had said no to a marvelous opportunity to grow closer to Him and to help build the Kingdom here on earth in this way. So, I decided to start researching. I figured, if it was from God, I would know by the open doors and, if it wasn't from God, I would know it by the doors closing in my face.
Well, guess what? Since then, doors have continued to open. First of all, details started coming to me. The community has to be a pro-life voice in our local community. The women in it will wear habits of simple cloth. Even my new name was brought to me: Sr. Mary Monica. And, all the Sisters' names will begin with Mary, in honor of our Blessed Mother. I found Monica an interesting idea because St. Monica knows the depths of my heartache over my children and my ex-husband choosing not to be members in good standing of the Church right now. I have been asking her intercession for them for a long time. I know that she, herself, had a similar experience with her son (now St. Augustine!) and husband.
Every question I brought to the Lord had a peaceful answer. I'm not ready, Lord. "You will be ready when it's time." One does not a community make. "We will build it; they will come." The most poignant: LORD, I have been looking for a husband for 5 years. "Yes, and I've been waiting for you." I burst into tears at that one...what more perfect spouse than my dear Lord? At the center of it all was great peace and joy. However, I was surrounding that peace and joy with all kinds of my naysaying and angst. After these questions were answered, I decided to get out of the way and let the Lord work within and through me. So, I dropped all the worries and attempts to see into the future, and decided to stay focused on the tasks at hand.
I told a close friend of mine what had happened and she suggested I begin the Franciscan Sisters of Peace, a community aligned with the Franciscan Brothers of Peace, known for their pro-life work here. My reaction: bingo, that's it! Up 'til then I couldn't figure out where to begin...Benedictines, Dominicans, Republicans (!)? I now had a starting point for the community!
After Mass one morning, I felt led to confide in a wonderful woman whom I didn't know very well but is a very public friend of life in our community. It was a blessed time! As I spoke, she seemed to become as excited as I was about the whole thing. She said she would be my spiritual cheerleader. She warned me that there would be obstacles but not to worry, I was just to work through them. She also told me something interesting. She said she had been a part of a panel in Indiana recently. The entire auditorium was filled with young people. When the questions opened up, they were all directed at the three nuns in habits. She said young women seem to be hungering for this. Her words gave me hope.
Next, I figured out that I had to meet with Brother Paul at the Brothers'. When I emailed him about what I was doing, he gave me many dates from which to choose for our meeting. Another open door!
Our meeting lasted almost 2 hours. It seemed like 10 minutes! Brother Paul had a wealth of information for me. He was very affirming but first he corrected me. He said a recent pope had declared there would be no more new religious orders but rather religious communities. I was glad for the correction but I wondered then why God would use the word order with me. I figured out that He had to get my attention and if I'd heard community I might not have known what that meant.
Brother Paul said his community had been praying for a Sister community. He told me my age would be an asset, not a detriment. He said my many years' experience as a wife and mother, my pro-life work and my connections in the community would all hold me in good stead. He said our archbishop is very pro-life and he thought he would welcome this endeavor. He gave me two books, one about their beginnings as a community and the illness and death of their founder and the other on their statutes and way of life. He said I needed to begin praying about and writing down the statutes of my community because I would have to have them to present to the archbishop. (I wasn't quite sure what he meant by statutes--I realized then that I was going to be on an interesting learning curve through all of this!) He warned me that there would be naysayers but I was not to listen to them. I was to keep going past them. He told me all the steps to making this happen at the archdiocesan level. He suggested that the next person I see is our auxiliary bishop. I saw that as another open door because the bishop had been on my mind as the next person, too. It had to be a God thing because, of all the people Brother could have suggested, he chose the same person I'd been considering! When I meet with the bishop, I'm going to ask if he will be my spiritual director. It seems nervy but that's one of my gifts...audacity--hmmm, persistence?
Brother Paul told me I had the community's prayer support and asked me to keep him up-to-date on what was happening. He ended with something profound, yet very simple. He said, "Just do good." I've thought a lot about that since then. Really, all that is required of any of us is to do good. It doesn't have to be huge, grandiose things. We can do little things, as long as they're good. His words brought great relief! I didn't have to build Rome in one day (so to speak)!!! When I thanked him the next day, I asked if I could pray in the friary chapel on a regular basis. It seemed important to be near them while I pray. He readily gave me permission. I didn't realize what a gift this would be to me. The peace I find, all alone in the Presence of God, with no distractions, just Him and me, is a blessing beyond compare. Whenever I leave the chapel, an intense longing comes over me to spend every single day, all day, there! The time there goes far too quickly!
The people in whom I have confided have told me I can go slow with this and I can work through any obstacle because God is with me. They tell me they can see me doing this. They say they are excited for me. THEN, they say they can't see me wearing a habit. I just laugh. I do wonder what our clients will say when "Sister" in her habit stands at the front desk, asking how she can help them. The idea makes me smile.
These days, I'm doing research. I asked for and received the statutes of the community of Sisters for which I accompany morning Mass. I have been reading and studying them. Next, I will request a copy of the Benedictines' from a family friend who is a part of that community.
I AM going slowly...It runs a little counter to my usual modus operandi because I tend to be pretty pro-active when I get an idea in my head of something that needs to be done. This particular skill has always been a useful thing at the life care center but this is an inner working of my soul. I must allow God to lead me and I must follow Him and HIS timing.
So, stay tuned...and please pray for this and for me. It will be very exciting to see what God will do with me next, won't it?
I passed the next days, crying and praying...and wondering. Was this from God or was it just an odd thought of mine passing through? I decided that IF this was truly a call from God, I wouldn't want to get to the end of my life and hear God ask me why I had said no to a marvelous opportunity to grow closer to Him and to help build the Kingdom here on earth in this way. So, I decided to start researching. I figured, if it was from God, I would know by the open doors and, if it wasn't from God, I would know it by the doors closing in my face.
Well, guess what? Since then, doors have continued to open. First of all, details started coming to me. The community has to be a pro-life voice in our local community. The women in it will wear habits of simple cloth. Even my new name was brought to me: Sr. Mary Monica. And, all the Sisters' names will begin with Mary, in honor of our Blessed Mother. I found Monica an interesting idea because St. Monica knows the depths of my heartache over my children and my ex-husband choosing not to be members in good standing of the Church right now. I have been asking her intercession for them for a long time. I know that she, herself, had a similar experience with her son (now St. Augustine!) and husband.
Every question I brought to the Lord had a peaceful answer. I'm not ready, Lord. "You will be ready when it's time." One does not a community make. "We will build it; they will come." The most poignant: LORD, I have been looking for a husband for 5 years. "Yes, and I've been waiting for you." I burst into tears at that one...what more perfect spouse than my dear Lord? At the center of it all was great peace and joy. However, I was surrounding that peace and joy with all kinds of my naysaying and angst. After these questions were answered, I decided to get out of the way and let the Lord work within and through me. So, I dropped all the worries and attempts to see into the future, and decided to stay focused on the tasks at hand.
I told a close friend of mine what had happened and she suggested I begin the Franciscan Sisters of Peace, a community aligned with the Franciscan Brothers of Peace, known for their pro-life work here. My reaction: bingo, that's it! Up 'til then I couldn't figure out where to begin...Benedictines, Dominicans, Republicans (!)? I now had a starting point for the community!
After Mass one morning, I felt led to confide in a wonderful woman whom I didn't know very well but is a very public friend of life in our community. It was a blessed time! As I spoke, she seemed to become as excited as I was about the whole thing. She said she would be my spiritual cheerleader. She warned me that there would be obstacles but not to worry, I was just to work through them. She also told me something interesting. She said she had been a part of a panel in Indiana recently. The entire auditorium was filled with young people. When the questions opened up, they were all directed at the three nuns in habits. She said young women seem to be hungering for this. Her words gave me hope.
Next, I figured out that I had to meet with Brother Paul at the Brothers'. When I emailed him about what I was doing, he gave me many dates from which to choose for our meeting. Another open door!
Our meeting lasted almost 2 hours. It seemed like 10 minutes! Brother Paul had a wealth of information for me. He was very affirming but first he corrected me. He said a recent pope had declared there would be no more new religious orders but rather religious communities. I was glad for the correction but I wondered then why God would use the word order with me. I figured out that He had to get my attention and if I'd heard community I might not have known what that meant.
Brother Paul said his community had been praying for a Sister community. He told me my age would be an asset, not a detriment. He said my many years' experience as a wife and mother, my pro-life work and my connections in the community would all hold me in good stead. He said our archbishop is very pro-life and he thought he would welcome this endeavor. He gave me two books, one about their beginnings as a community and the illness and death of their founder and the other on their statutes and way of life. He said I needed to begin praying about and writing down the statutes of my community because I would have to have them to present to the archbishop. (I wasn't quite sure what he meant by statutes--I realized then that I was going to be on an interesting learning curve through all of this!) He warned me that there would be naysayers but I was not to listen to them. I was to keep going past them. He told me all the steps to making this happen at the archdiocesan level. He suggested that the next person I see is our auxiliary bishop. I saw that as another open door because the bishop had been on my mind as the next person, too. It had to be a God thing because, of all the people Brother could have suggested, he chose the same person I'd been considering! When I meet with the bishop, I'm going to ask if he will be my spiritual director. It seems nervy but that's one of my gifts...audacity--hmmm, persistence?
Brother Paul told me I had the community's prayer support and asked me to keep him up-to-date on what was happening. He ended with something profound, yet very simple. He said, "Just do good." I've thought a lot about that since then. Really, all that is required of any of us is to do good. It doesn't have to be huge, grandiose things. We can do little things, as long as they're good. His words brought great relief! I didn't have to build Rome in one day (so to speak)!!! When I thanked him the next day, I asked if I could pray in the friary chapel on a regular basis. It seemed important to be near them while I pray. He readily gave me permission. I didn't realize what a gift this would be to me. The peace I find, all alone in the Presence of God, with no distractions, just Him and me, is a blessing beyond compare. Whenever I leave the chapel, an intense longing comes over me to spend every single day, all day, there! The time there goes far too quickly!
The people in whom I have confided have told me I can go slow with this and I can work through any obstacle because God is with me. They tell me they can see me doing this. They say they are excited for me. THEN, they say they can't see me wearing a habit. I just laugh. I do wonder what our clients will say when "Sister" in her habit stands at the front desk, asking how she can help them. The idea makes me smile.
These days, I'm doing research. I asked for and received the statutes of the community of Sisters for which I accompany morning Mass. I have been reading and studying them. Next, I will request a copy of the Benedictines' from a family friend who is a part of that community.
I AM going slowly...It runs a little counter to my usual modus operandi because I tend to be pretty pro-active when I get an idea in my head of something that needs to be done. This particular skill has always been a useful thing at the life care center but this is an inner working of my soul. I must allow God to lead me and I must follow Him and HIS timing.
So, stay tuned...and please pray for this and for me. It will be very exciting to see what God will do with me next, won't it?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
a standing ovation
A few years ago, I was privileged to be the rehearsal accompanist and synthesizer player in the orchestra pit for my parish production of Stephen Sondheim's musical Into the Woods. Before we began, I practiced and practiced on the synthesizer. I didn't truly understand Sondheim's music, I had never used a synthesizer before and I'd never been a part of an orchestra, so I really needed all the practice time I could get. The first night of orchestra rehearsal, I thought I was doing okay. Suddenly, the music director put down his baton, turned to me and asked, "Joannie, do you also teach your piano students not to count?" I laughed, knowing he was kidding (but kind of serious, too...it was true I wasn't doing it quite right). Well, there was a stunned silence among the rest of the players who were all students at the nearby university. It was as if they were all thinking to themselves, "I can't believe you would say such a thing to that lovely OLD woman!" Then, something interesting happened. A girl who was playing violin stood up and said, "We, the string section, think she's awesome!" All the people in the string section stood up. Then, a trumpet player followed suit, saying the brass section thought I was awesome, and all HIS cohorts stood up! Pretty soon, the entire orchestra was standing! Sooo, what else could I do but stand up and dramatically take a bow? We all laughed, sat down and continued rehearsing. It felt like the ice had been broken and it was a very productive first rehearsal. And, in the end, I MOSTLY got it right and all of us had lots of fun performing the work.
As a result of this, I think I have a great distinction in this world. I am probably the only one in the entire world who has ever gotten a standing ovation for incompetence! Now, THAT takes talent! And, it makes me think of our clients and their children...how many moments like this will they miss if the children are aborted? I wish I could proclaim to the world what great beauty there is to share within every one of our lives.
As a result of this, I think I have a great distinction in this world. I am probably the only one in the entire world who has ever gotten a standing ovation for incompetence! Now, THAT takes talent! And, it makes me think of our clients and their children...how many moments like this will they miss if the children are aborted? I wish I could proclaim to the world what great beauty there is to share within every one of our lives.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
january
For my family, January is an interesting month of anniversaries, an opportunity to call on memories from long ago. These days, I have a peace about this month. However, it took me a while to come to this because my mother, my father and my sister Mary all died in January...
This January 4th would have been Mary's 63rd birthday. She died on January 27, 1988, at the age of 41, of malignant melanoma that had metastasized in her brain and liver. (Original site was on her back in a mole.) She was diagnosed with it October 15, 1987 and 3 months later she died. For me, it was a terrible time of questioning God's goodness. She left behind 8 children, ages 6 to 18 and I couldn't believe a good God would allow such a thing to happen. In my arrogance, I was very angry with Him. I would never react that way today. All during the time of my grieving and my anger, my dear Lord was waiting for me to come to understand that death is part of life and, since I don't know everything the way He does, I came to accept that I had no idea how Mary's death would be ordered toward good in the end but that it would be--glorious good, for that matter! Mary told me not to be sad because she was going home. Our archbishop visited her and told our mother that she was a very faith-filled woman. Mom could tell he was very touched by their visit. That's how it was with Mary, no matter who visited her. She always gave her visitors far more than we gave her. She planned her entire funeral and it was, without doubt, the most beautiful funeral I've ever attended, her final gift to her family and friends. All her choirs sang, she chose beautiful readings and hymns. One thing she told me when she was planning it was that we would NOT be singing On Eagle's Wings because she was so tired of playing it at every funeral. That was 22 years ago and I'm STILL playing it at every funeral! (As I begin the introduction, I always think, "This one's for you, Mare!" I picture her laughing about it.) I was very blessed to know and love my sister Mary here on earth.
My dad died on January 26, 1996, at the age of 84. He'd suffered a massive stroke on October 14, 1995. We buried him on the anniversary of the date we buried Mary. I was glad he had his own date of death. It seemed important somehow that he die on a different date than the one Mary did. Something happened 4 days before he died. I was in my living room, sitting on the couch, studying for a class on psychopathology (I was in grad school at the time) and I asked Mary if Dad was dying. (I often talk to her.) And, I heard her say, not in her physical, earth voice, but more as a presence right next to me: "Yes, and I'll be here when he comes." Now, I wondered if I was having an auditory hallucination because of my studies, but, deep down, I knew that God had allowed this moment to bring us comfort and, indeed, when I told Mom about it a few minutes after Dad died, it helped bring her peace.
My mom died on January 3, 2002, at the age of 83. She'd suffered a massive stroke 3 years earlier, on October 16th. (Did you notice that October is a theme running through these, too?) She lived in a health care center for the last 3 years of her life. My two sisters visited her every single day except for every other weekend when my brother traveled to be with her on Saturday and I traveled there on Sunday. I often wondered what only children do in situations like this because all of us got worn out. I don't remember ever hearing anyone complain, though, because Mom was very, very dear to all of us and we all knew she would have done the same for any of us. All of us loved spending time with her, even though conversations were basically one-sided for she had lost her ability to speak and was paralyzed on half of her body. In her silence, she was a testament to courage and strength during that time.
I find it interesting that dates in families can sometimes coincide. While it seems coincidental, I don't believe it really is. And, these days, I find comfort in the fact that Mom, Dad and Mary all died in the same month. I believe death was only the beginning of something exquisitely beautiful for them. And, THAT is something to celebrate!
This January 4th would have been Mary's 63rd birthday. She died on January 27, 1988, at the age of 41, of malignant melanoma that had metastasized in her brain and liver. (Original site was on her back in a mole.) She was diagnosed with it October 15, 1987 and 3 months later she died. For me, it was a terrible time of questioning God's goodness. She left behind 8 children, ages 6 to 18 and I couldn't believe a good God would allow such a thing to happen. In my arrogance, I was very angry with Him. I would never react that way today. All during the time of my grieving and my anger, my dear Lord was waiting for me to come to understand that death is part of life and, since I don't know everything the way He does, I came to accept that I had no idea how Mary's death would be ordered toward good in the end but that it would be--glorious good, for that matter! Mary told me not to be sad because she was going home. Our archbishop visited her and told our mother that she was a very faith-filled woman. Mom could tell he was very touched by their visit. That's how it was with Mary, no matter who visited her. She always gave her visitors far more than we gave her. She planned her entire funeral and it was, without doubt, the most beautiful funeral I've ever attended, her final gift to her family and friends. All her choirs sang, she chose beautiful readings and hymns. One thing she told me when she was planning it was that we would NOT be singing On Eagle's Wings because she was so tired of playing it at every funeral. That was 22 years ago and I'm STILL playing it at every funeral! (As I begin the introduction, I always think, "This one's for you, Mare!" I picture her laughing about it.) I was very blessed to know and love my sister Mary here on earth.
My dad died on January 26, 1996, at the age of 84. He'd suffered a massive stroke on October 14, 1995. We buried him on the anniversary of the date we buried Mary. I was glad he had his own date of death. It seemed important somehow that he die on a different date than the one Mary did. Something happened 4 days before he died. I was in my living room, sitting on the couch, studying for a class on psychopathology (I was in grad school at the time) and I asked Mary if Dad was dying. (I often talk to her.) And, I heard her say, not in her physical, earth voice, but more as a presence right next to me: "Yes, and I'll be here when he comes." Now, I wondered if I was having an auditory hallucination because of my studies, but, deep down, I knew that God had allowed this moment to bring us comfort and, indeed, when I told Mom about it a few minutes after Dad died, it helped bring her peace.
My mom died on January 3, 2002, at the age of 83. She'd suffered a massive stroke 3 years earlier, on October 16th. (Did you notice that October is a theme running through these, too?) She lived in a health care center for the last 3 years of her life. My two sisters visited her every single day except for every other weekend when my brother traveled to be with her on Saturday and I traveled there on Sunday. I often wondered what only children do in situations like this because all of us got worn out. I don't remember ever hearing anyone complain, though, because Mom was very, very dear to all of us and we all knew she would have done the same for any of us. All of us loved spending time with her, even though conversations were basically one-sided for she had lost her ability to speak and was paralyzed on half of her body. In her silence, she was a testament to courage and strength during that time.
I find it interesting that dates in families can sometimes coincide. While it seems coincidental, I don't believe it really is. And, these days, I find comfort in the fact that Mom, Dad and Mary all died in the same month. I believe death was only the beginning of something exquisitely beautiful for them. And, THAT is something to celebrate!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
a moment of grace
For a while now, I've noticed a family who comes regularly to Sunday Mass at the Sisters', where I play a couple times a month (and daily Mass twice a week). In the family, there are 4 children, a father and a mother. Sometimes, grandparents attend Mass with them. The first thing I noticed about them was the mother, who looks to be in her late 30's and is very beautiful. She was bald when I first noticed them. (This was last winter and her hair began to grow back in the summer.) Then I noticed all the children--all beautiful, all MOSTLY well-behaved. (The youngest is an adorable little tow-headed girl who is probably around 2 and can't seem to sit still for the life of her. She always makes me smile. Her dances are works of art!) From what I've observed, they are a very close family, all sitting close to one another, all smiling at one another. I can tell they all care for one another very much. The most interesting thing I have noticed all along is the sense of peace and joy that always plays across the mother's face. The father has it, too, but it's not as readily obvious as it is with her. With him, it's more of a stalwart courage kind of thing. Watching them over the past several months, I knew intuitively this was a family in crisis: a mom who has cancer. She didn't look like someone who'd just shave her head capriciously to make a statement so it was the only conclusion possible, considering her bald head.
Today, I had the opportunity to talk with the dad after Mass. I asked him if his wife was suffering from cancer. He said, yes, she had had a double mastectomy last February and it had returned in her brain in September. She is undergoing radiation, has 4 treatments left and will be done this coming Thursday. I told him I had noticed her little bald head last winter. He said this is the second time she's lost her hair. (She was wearing a scarf today so I figured...) I said, well, bald is beautiful! And he said, yes, and she has a cute little head. (She does, too!) I said I'd noticed their family and what a witness to God's love they all were to me. He thanked me and told me I had a beautiful voice. (I had led the singing this morning while I played.) I thanked him and told him it was a privilege for me to be there. I told him I was praying for them. We wished one another happy new year and moved away from one another.
I walked away, thinking how blessed I am to experience such beautiful moments in my life and be given such opportunities to pray for strangers. (Well, we all know, in the Body of Christ, there are no strangers really...) I knew, by observing and talking with the dad, this family is entrusting their future to God. And, they continue to praise Him.
I don't even know their names but they have changed me in ways they, themselves, aren't probably even aware. Because of them, I have become less selfish (just a little bit less, anyway), I have an opportunity to grow in faith by seeing how they are handling a crisis in their lives, I have come to appreciate more fully the people in my life and all the blessings I have regarding my health. And, the idea that children are a great blessing to spouses has been greatly reinforced for me through them.
Isn't it interesting the lessons others teach us just by living their lives and not even knowing us?
Today, I had the opportunity to talk with the dad after Mass. I asked him if his wife was suffering from cancer. He said, yes, she had had a double mastectomy last February and it had returned in her brain in September. She is undergoing radiation, has 4 treatments left and will be done this coming Thursday. I told him I had noticed her little bald head last winter. He said this is the second time she's lost her hair. (She was wearing a scarf today so I figured...) I said, well, bald is beautiful! And he said, yes, and she has a cute little head. (She does, too!) I said I'd noticed their family and what a witness to God's love they all were to me. He thanked me and told me I had a beautiful voice. (I had led the singing this morning while I played.) I thanked him and told him it was a privilege for me to be there. I told him I was praying for them. We wished one another happy new year and moved away from one another.
I walked away, thinking how blessed I am to experience such beautiful moments in my life and be given such opportunities to pray for strangers. (Well, we all know, in the Body of Christ, there are no strangers really...) I knew, by observing and talking with the dad, this family is entrusting their future to God. And, they continue to praise Him.
I don't even know their names but they have changed me in ways they, themselves, aren't probably even aware. Because of them, I have become less selfish (just a little bit less, anyway), I have an opportunity to grow in faith by seeing how they are handling a crisis in their lives, I have come to appreciate more fully the people in my life and all the blessings I have regarding my health. And, the idea that children are a great blessing to spouses has been greatly reinforced for me through them.
Isn't it interesting the lessons others teach us just by living their lives and not even knowing us?
Friday, January 1, 2010
saints I've known...
On this beginning of the new year, I was going to write something profound about leaving the old and welcoming the new but I couldn't think of anything profound to say along those lines sooo I will share what I HAVE been pondering today.
I've been thinking about people I knew when they were alive whom I have great hope are in heaven. I continually ask all of them for intercessory prayer support. One is Donna Heine who died at the age of 8, right after she made her First Confession and First Communion and had suffered for a while from a fatal childhood disease and being bedridden for about a year. (I still don't know what the disease was as I was also 8 at that time and adults didn't tell us children these things back then.) Then, there is little Matteo, the son of a client of mine, who died at 5 of a medulloblastoma (brain cancer). And, Dan Hawkins who died at the age of 72. I believe he is in heaven for many reasons and I also know he received the Last Rites before he died.
I remember Donna as being so very innocent and holy. I always wanted to be near her, to play with her. (Aren't we always attracted to saints?) She was very fragile physically so it wasn't possible to be with her much after she became ill. I know she hungered to receive her First Communion. I sensed, in my childish innocence, that she was going to heaven soon.
Matteo was the son of a client of mine. His mother had originally come to me because her doctor had recommended she abort Matteo's little brother and she refused. She'd come to the center, wanting to get support. Three years later, she called me, saying I was the first person she'd called to say Matteo had cancer and only a very few months to live. She wanted me to be with them. I was privileged to be with them for the next 9 months, every single day, except for a week in the middle when I needed a bit of respite from the intensity of the situation.
Sometimes, I would spell Matteo's parents by going to his hospital room in the evening and staying until he fell asleep hours later. I'd read to him, we'd talk about things, we'd joke with the nurses, I'd hold him as he screamed in pain. (His suffering was, at times, unrelenting and intense.) I knew that he liked to talk about "farts". Now, I was raised to be a lady and this topic was verboten in my world but I'd do anything to alleviate even a minute of his suffering so I entered right into the fun. Soon, his room became the "smelly butt room" and we cautioned anyone entering to hold his or her nose. I had everyone I knew looking for children's books on the subject. I acquired quite an array after a while. (Who knew there were so many written on the subject??? And, did you know they came in colors? That's what one book claimed!) His doctor, Dr. Partington, soon became Dr. Fartington and we had the nurses cracking up behind his back. (I suspect they told him eventually.) Every one of us would do anything to get Matteo to laugh.
Make a Wish Foundation sent us to Florida for a week, all expenses paid and spending money besides. Matteo wanted to see Mickey in his house and, given he had a little 3 year old brother and an 11 year old brother, I was invited along to help. It was the most miserable...AND the most grace-filled...week of my life! First of all, it was Holy Week and I was scheduled to play at many services, plus I would miss going to Mass on Easter Sunday. One priest friend gave me permission, "Oh, Joannie, God is calling you to be with this poor family. We'll get along without you fine." It was hot and humid; Matteo's parents were out of their element as they'd never traveled anywhere before; the kids were acting out, Matteo was in excruciating pain most of the time. However, we DID get to Mickey's house and had a "private audience" with Mickey. By the time it was over, everyone in the room, including Mickey, was crying, as we told the story of why we were there. Kudos to Make a Wish for trying to provide a time of relief, however!
When we returned from Florida, Matteo's mother insisted he be baptized before he died so I called on a local priest and he and I went to their house, he with a little plastic container of holy water and I with great gratitude that he'd said yes. Pandemonium ensued at the house--smoke filling the air from cigarettes and Matteo's brothers running around. Amidst it all, Fr. Tony talked ever so softly and patiently to everyone and baptized Matteo.
Matteo taught his parents about God. Early on, he told them God had come to him and told him not to be afraid because he was his friend and he'd always be with him. Later, he said he heard a knock at the door and asked his dad to answer. His dad told him the knock was for him and he could go through the door. Matteo died that day, October 30th, 2002.
There is one interesting side note to this story. I always have an extreme reaction to cigarette smoke. I get nauseous if I even get near clothes that smell of it. Matteo's parents smoked a lot and, during this entire time, I never once had a reaction to it, not even when I spent the night at their house. I am convinced it was God protecting me so that I could continue to minister to them.
Dan Hawkins was the board treasurer at the pregnancy center until he died of liver cancer. He taught me how to suffer and how to die. I wrote him an email once, telling him I was praying that his suffering be alleviated. He wrote back, asking me not to do that. He was using his suffering in gratitude for all the years he'd been in good health and offering it up for those of us he loved. I learned a lot, reading that email! As my boss, he brought Christ's love to me. Whenever we had a meeting, I always left, thinking I was far better than I actually was...Even if he had a criticism, he did it in such a way that built me up and made me want to do even better. He was the best at diplomacy and tact! I asked him once, before I knew him well, if he'd be one of the speakers at a parish where we were asking for financial support. He replied that no one would believe a curmugeonly looking man like him. That made me sad. I told him all I ever saw when I looked at him was Christ.
All of these people made a huge difference in my life and continue to do so even now. I know they are advocating for me and I am humbled and very grateful that they are.
I've been thinking about people I knew when they were alive whom I have great hope are in heaven. I continually ask all of them for intercessory prayer support. One is Donna Heine who died at the age of 8, right after she made her First Confession and First Communion and had suffered for a while from a fatal childhood disease and being bedridden for about a year. (I still don't know what the disease was as I was also 8 at that time and adults didn't tell us children these things back then.) Then, there is little Matteo, the son of a client of mine, who died at 5 of a medulloblastoma (brain cancer). And, Dan Hawkins who died at the age of 72. I believe he is in heaven for many reasons and I also know he received the Last Rites before he died.
I remember Donna as being so very innocent and holy. I always wanted to be near her, to play with her. (Aren't we always attracted to saints?) She was very fragile physically so it wasn't possible to be with her much after she became ill. I know she hungered to receive her First Communion. I sensed, in my childish innocence, that she was going to heaven soon.
Matteo was the son of a client of mine. His mother had originally come to me because her doctor had recommended she abort Matteo's little brother and she refused. She'd come to the center, wanting to get support. Three years later, she called me, saying I was the first person she'd called to say Matteo had cancer and only a very few months to live. She wanted me to be with them. I was privileged to be with them for the next 9 months, every single day, except for a week in the middle when I needed a bit of respite from the intensity of the situation.
Sometimes, I would spell Matteo's parents by going to his hospital room in the evening and staying until he fell asleep hours later. I'd read to him, we'd talk about things, we'd joke with the nurses, I'd hold him as he screamed in pain. (His suffering was, at times, unrelenting and intense.) I knew that he liked to talk about "farts". Now, I was raised to be a lady and this topic was verboten in my world but I'd do anything to alleviate even a minute of his suffering so I entered right into the fun. Soon, his room became the "smelly butt room" and we cautioned anyone entering to hold his or her nose. I had everyone I knew looking for children's books on the subject. I acquired quite an array after a while. (Who knew there were so many written on the subject??? And, did you know they came in colors? That's what one book claimed!) His doctor, Dr. Partington, soon became Dr. Fartington and we had the nurses cracking up behind his back. (I suspect they told him eventually.) Every one of us would do anything to get Matteo to laugh.
Make a Wish Foundation sent us to Florida for a week, all expenses paid and spending money besides. Matteo wanted to see Mickey in his house and, given he had a little 3 year old brother and an 11 year old brother, I was invited along to help. It was the most miserable...AND the most grace-filled...week of my life! First of all, it was Holy Week and I was scheduled to play at many services, plus I would miss going to Mass on Easter Sunday. One priest friend gave me permission, "Oh, Joannie, God is calling you to be with this poor family. We'll get along without you fine." It was hot and humid; Matteo's parents were out of their element as they'd never traveled anywhere before; the kids were acting out, Matteo was in excruciating pain most of the time. However, we DID get to Mickey's house and had a "private audience" with Mickey. By the time it was over, everyone in the room, including Mickey, was crying, as we told the story of why we were there. Kudos to Make a Wish for trying to provide a time of relief, however!
When we returned from Florida, Matteo's mother insisted he be baptized before he died so I called on a local priest and he and I went to their house, he with a little plastic container of holy water and I with great gratitude that he'd said yes. Pandemonium ensued at the house--smoke filling the air from cigarettes and Matteo's brothers running around. Amidst it all, Fr. Tony talked ever so softly and patiently to everyone and baptized Matteo.
Matteo taught his parents about God. Early on, he told them God had come to him and told him not to be afraid because he was his friend and he'd always be with him. Later, he said he heard a knock at the door and asked his dad to answer. His dad told him the knock was for him and he could go through the door. Matteo died that day, October 30th, 2002.
There is one interesting side note to this story. I always have an extreme reaction to cigarette smoke. I get nauseous if I even get near clothes that smell of it. Matteo's parents smoked a lot and, during this entire time, I never once had a reaction to it, not even when I spent the night at their house. I am convinced it was God protecting me so that I could continue to minister to them.
Dan Hawkins was the board treasurer at the pregnancy center until he died of liver cancer. He taught me how to suffer and how to die. I wrote him an email once, telling him I was praying that his suffering be alleviated. He wrote back, asking me not to do that. He was using his suffering in gratitude for all the years he'd been in good health and offering it up for those of us he loved. I learned a lot, reading that email! As my boss, he brought Christ's love to me. Whenever we had a meeting, I always left, thinking I was far better than I actually was...Even if he had a criticism, he did it in such a way that built me up and made me want to do even better. He was the best at diplomacy and tact! I asked him once, before I knew him well, if he'd be one of the speakers at a parish where we were asking for financial support. He replied that no one would believe a curmugeonly looking man like him. That made me sad. I told him all I ever saw when I looked at him was Christ.
All of these people made a huge difference in my life and continue to do so even now. I know they are advocating for me and I am humbled and very grateful that they are.
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