A Slower Advent

Happy Advent!

I usually only post during Lent and about my books, but I wanted to share a talk my daughter Jennifer Friend gave at a ladies’ luncheon at church:

Good morning, everyone,

We have all just heard a bunch of wonderful and beautiful ideas for how to celebrate Advent with your families, and I know I could call on just about anyone in the room to come up and tell us even more ideas we haven’t heard yet…

But this is a busy time of year for moms… in many families it is often the mom making the magic happen for her family in December. It is a joy and a privilege to do so, but it can also be exhausting!

I want to give you permission to do something quite radical this year…

I want to give you permission to do… less.

Jesus will still be born at Christmas if all you do this year is a really intentional Advent Wreath tradition.

Jesus will still be born at Christmas even if all you do this year is a faithful observance of the various saint feast days in December. Or if you just pull out a book to read each day instead of individually gift-wrapping 24 books to open and read throughout Advent!

Jesus will still be born at Christmas even if all you do is a really great Jesse tree. And really, Jesus will still be born at Christmas even if you can only manage a mediocre Jesse tree! If something is truly worth doing, it’s even worth doing badly!

Maybe you have a new baby! Or perhaps you lost a loved one this year! Or someone is searching for a job! Or you are a grandma for the first time this year!

Emmanuel…     God with us…   Emmanuel is not diminished by the season of life we are in!

A couple of years ago we pulled out our Advent tub and tried to do it all. Each kid chose a different Jesse tree, we had a new Advent Wreath program for readings, various grandmas sent us new Advent calendars, we had fancy paper ornaments for each saint feast day to print out and color and then cut out and assemble, not to mention more secular traditions for December! We would get up each Advent day and go through each Jesse tree, one kid putting up a sticker, another a magnet, another something on the fridge, another hanging up a tiny book, and none of the readings lined up with each other, then we had to update each Advent calendar, and we were too busy to enjoy the coloring of the saint ornaments, and too tired to assemble them, and then we had to get ready to head to the next December event for the day!

It was tiring, and I was probably not the most patient mother that year.

This year, dare to be different. YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO IT ALL! If your little ones are still young, and you have ideas for 10 different traditions you have heard this morning, you DO NOT need to start every single new tradition this year! Try ONE! Write the rest of the ideas down on a piece of paper and tape it to your Christmas or Advent tub to look at next year!

If you are a grandma, you don’t have to think of every tradition you’d like your grandkids to grow up with. Don’t pressure your adult children to continue every tradition they grew up with. Let them try to do less this year, if they need to. Let them establish their own traditions. It doesn’t mean that they don’t treasure the childhood traditions you chose for them growing up!

If your kids are somewhere in between… not tiny, but not yet grown… get them involved! Ask them to help you choose which 1 or 2 Advent traditions they would like to try this year! What a healthy life skill to be instilling now!

Saying no to something good this year doesn’t mean you are saying no to it forever! You can take a break for a year and decide again what to try next year!

I am going to borrow some wisdom from Sarah Mackenzie and encourage you to keep in mind three beautiful missions this year. They are true for a healthy homeschool, and I think they apply beautifully to any family and any liturgical season…

1 – DO LESS,

2 – AS CONSISTENTLY AS YOU ARE ABLE, and

3 – PUT RELATIONSHIPS FIRST.

That’s all. Consider these three as you make decisions about how to celebrate Advent with your family this year. Do less, as consistently as you can manage in the season of life that you are in and be sure to keep relationships on the front burner, not the back burner. Relationships not only with your family and friends, but also with the God who so desperately desires you to slow down enough to see Him.

Give your family the gift of a Mama that isn’t staying up until midnight or beyond stressing over the next day. Give your family the gift of a more rested woman who chose to focus her energy on doing one or two things well, rather than trying to do it all and having no patience left for the people she loves. If you’re married, give your spouse the gift of a wife who isn’t 110% focused on the kids at this time of year. Find ways to make it a little easier on yourself, so that you too get to enjoy the ‘waiting in hope’. So that you get to enjoy the season as well, and that you will have room at the inn of your heart for Jesus to be born this Christmas.

The Advent that your family experiences this year will be greatly enriched if they get to see you slow down and cherish this beautiful season for yourself. Do less, as consistently as you are able, and put relationships first.

See Jesus through Suffering to Joy

Imagine yourself as Jesus, sitting side-by-side with your best friends on Holy Thursday. You’ve just instituted the Eucharist as a way to stay with your friends, knowing that you’ll be physically leaving them later tonight. You’ve taken them away to pray, and you plead for strength to get through what lies ahead. You pray for your followers, the men and women whom you’ve been preparing for three years. You pray, desperately wanting to find another way, any other way, but already it has begun, and you bow to your Father’s will. One of your chosen twelve has betrayed you and led the Romans to your arrest. The soldiers come to take you to your judgment and your death. Your followers have scattered, none remaining at your side. You are stripped, beaten, scourged, and perhaps even worse, you’ve heard your Peter, your rock, deny you.

Dragging a heavy, rough-hewn cross along your final sorrowful way, on a shoulder still raw from the whip, you see the pain in the eyes of the women. You see your mother and are pierced by the same grief that pierces her heart. You are nailed to the cross, your hands and feet bearing the weight of your body on the excruciating pain of the nails. You struggle to breathe, knowing you are counting your last gasps. But you summon breath to give your mother to John and by so doing, make her mother to the world. And then you forgive the people who’ve inflicted the pain that is unbearable, so unbearable that you die.

If imagining yourself as Jesus suffering has moved your emotions, you have just seen Jesus.

Now imagine yourself, one of His followers, at the foot of the cross. You look up at Him, the One you hoped would ease your pain. And instead, He has just exhaled His last breath. Are you next to die?

Fear. Doubt. Grief. If you have known any of those emotions, any of this pain in your life, you have been at the foot of the cross and you have seen Jesus through suffering. More importantly, He has seen you. He knew then, and He knows now the pain in your heart. Whether it is emotional pain from abuse, betrayal, abandonment, guilt, or the physical pain of a broken body as yet unhealed, He saw you from the cross. He sees you now. And He knows that in long nights of anguish, or brief glimpses of His nearness, you have reached out to Him. You have found Him through pain. Perhaps seeing you, as you looked with faith to Him, eased some of His pain.

We are truly blessed to live many years after that crucifixion night. We know the hope of the resurrection—both Jesus’ resurrection and our own still to come. In that hope, we see Jesus, and not only see Him, but we are invited to live beyond the pain, to live with Him forever. Through Easter, we will see Him in joy! He sends us experiences of Joy to keep us filled with hope.

Perhaps we experience His touch of joy in nature:

• Something about green trees, untamed animals, water on the move, snowy mountains, or a star-teemed sky can make our hearts surge with thanksgiving to the Creator.
• Leaving routine behind as we travel into the wilderness holds restoration for the weary. Jesus exemplified this by going away to pray. He calls us to retreat to the desert, as well as to mountaintop experiences.
• “Beside still waters he refreshes my soul.” Psalm 23

We might experience Jesus’ joy through children:

• Holding a tiny baby and seeing one of her first smiles delights us. The miracle that we behold, as we snuggle a newborn, is a taste of the miracle of taking Jesus into our arms and loving Him with awe and thanksgiving.
• Watching a child discover new experiences refreshes our own outlook.
• Having a little one come running for comfort and being calmed with a hug or soothed on our lap lifts our hearts.
• Rocking a child to sleep brings peace to our hearts.
• Seeing a teen discover pride in a job well done we share their joy.
• Giving a daughter away to a well-chosen groom gives us hope for the future.
• Holding a new grandchild, we remember holding the parent. Such happiness!

We can find Jesus’ joy through helping others.

• There’s an old Chinese proverb, “If you want happiness for an hour—take a nap. If you want happiness for a day—go fishing. If you want happiness for a year—inherit a fortune. If you want happiness for a lifetime—help someone else.”
• “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Making the world a better place for others is one beautiful path to joy. Joy comes from using our gifts for others. — Frederick Buechner
• “Whoever is happy will make others happy.” ―Anne Frank
• “Those who are not looking for happiness are the most likely to find it, because those who are searching forget that the surest way to be happy is to seek happiness for others.” ―Martin Luther King, Jr.

Another route to joy is through gratitude. Appreciating what we have focuses us on how blessed we already are.

• “If you want to find happiness, find gratitude.” ―Steve Maraboli
• “It is not joy that makes us grateful, it is gratitude that makes us joyful.” David Steindl-Rast

But perhaps the Easter message sums up all joy as the result of Love.

• “If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in His love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” John 15

Thank you for reading these Lenten posts. I pray they have helped you. May your Easter bring you joy and help you to see Jesus!

See Jesus through Suffering

Our elderly Frank continues to tell his story:

Sometimes, pain forces our attention on God. Not that God gives us pain, but evil, poor choices, and our broken world do. Yet, God can take our suffering and turn it into good. He might utilize a trauma to help us realize how much we depend on God, and how little we can do without Him. That’s the way it was for my son.

Daniel and I were arguing in the middle of the street. Suddenly, a car careened around the corner and skidded toward us. Daniel had his back to it and, consumed by his own anger, wasn’t paying attention. I grabbed his jacket, pushing him as hard as I could out of the way, and shouted, “God, save my son!” He was bigger than me by that age, but I firmly believe God gave me extra strength. I had succeeded in getting him out of the path of the car, but it hit me and threw me into the air. I don’t remember anything after that, until a few days later when I woke in the hospital, so the rest of this story is what my son told me.

Daniel called 911, screaming for an ambulance, not only for me, but for several members of his football team in the car, which had hit a tree after hitting me. I’m told he stayed at my side at the hospital, terrified that I would die. And maybe it was touch and go for a while there. I had broken a hip and two ribs and lay in a concussion-induced coma.

According to my son, he railed against God, demanding to know why He’d let this happen. Wasn’t it enough that he didn’t have a mother? Would God take his father, too, a father who, in my son’s words, had served God so diligently? If so, Daniel reasoned, if I died, he didn’t want to have a God that was that mean. He’d never believe in God again. He was determined to renounce his faith.

By the third day, things weren’t looking good for my recovery. The doctors had started trying to prepare him for the worst. Terrified, he realized he needed a world where miracles were possible. He needed a God who could heal. Daniel, in desperation, made a pact with God to return to his faith and become a priest if God would spare my life. Soon after that, I awoke. That timing, that answer to prayer, was more than a miracle for me. It worked miraculously in Daniel’s heart and soul, too. Little did I know that when I begged, “God, save my son,” He would save him spiritually as well as physically.

Five key players of the football team were hurt badly enough to require weeks to recover. The coach decided to forfeit the season, partially as a lesson to the whole team about underage drinking and driving, and about making choices to promote one’s health. Daniel immersed himself in his faith with his newfound time. True to his word, he returned to our morning Masses. He studied the Bible. He joined the Youth Group and would tell his story to anyone who would listen. He began to research colleges with seminary programs. He’d found his own Savior, and more importantly, his Friend. He admitted to being pretty fond of me, too, and happy to have me safe.

Betty here:

Of course, we don’t often experience miraculous deliverance from our suffering, but when we reach out to God from our pain, He answers and fills us with His Grace. He comforts and accompanies us throughout our agony. The psalmist says, “Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for He is at my side.” (23:4)

Jesus knows suffering. He experienced torture and death, dying to prevent us from suffering in the next life. Whenever we look at a cross, we see Jesus and can remember what He went through, for us. As children, we might have been told to “offer it up.” By joining our suffering to Christ’s, it becomes an act of love.

Here are a few other thoughts on suffering from the New Testament:

• He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” (Revelation 21:4)
• And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:2-4)
• Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. (Romans 8:17)
• To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. (1 Peter 2:21)
• And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:10)

See Jesus in Ourselves

Frank, the wise elderly priest, continues to tell us how he’s come to see Jesus in his life:

One of my favorite blessings as a priest came with the honor of listening to people’s confessions. You might be surprised at that, but sharing such a sacramental moment with anyone is a gift. Sometimes people come in during confessional hours and you can tell they want to get in and out as quickly as possible. But most people, once they’ve said what they need to say, are open to the many graces God wants to shower on them. And the people who make an appointment for confession off-hours are often hungry for such grace and any spiritual counseling that I’m moved to offer.

Many people come to the confessional weighed down by guilt and feeling very bad about themselves. I listen, not for my own knowledge, but as a conduit connecting God and the parishioner. Their words, both the penitent’s and God’s, flow through me, and I frequently am amazed at how the Spirit directs my response to them. You’d think after so many years as a priest I’d be used to it, but I still often wonder, did I just say that? Where did that come from? It certainly isn’t my own wisdom, but that of the Spirit. Being used that way, for the healing of a sorrowful soul, is one of the greatest gifts of the priesthood!

I don’t want the penitent to leave while weighed down by what they’ve just told me. I want them to realize what a blessed child of God they are, so there’s a question I’ve always loved asking people before I give them their penance and send them on their way.

I say, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Jesus.” Well, usually they start telling me when they’ve been the least like Him. So, I interrupt and say again, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Him.”

I hear quite humbling answers.

One woman said, “When I overlook my husband’s little irritating idiosyncrasies and just love him as he is.”

Another said, “When I’m up in the middle of the night with my infant, and she’s crying, and I’m exhausted but I cuddle her and coo to her and rock her until she falls asleep. I think that’s what Jesus must long to do with us when we aren’t behaving. So often we misbehave because we are tired or hungry or don’t feel loved. But He’s right there holding us and loving us through the hard times.”

So much truth rests in that wise young woman’s words. But women aren’t the only ones who are Christ-like. One man told me, “My joints hurt most of the time. I’ve had severe arthritis for years, but I try not to complain. I think about Jesus and how He suffered for me, and I thank Him, and then the pain doesn’t seem intolerable.”

Another man had a hard time letting go of all the times he’d missed the mark. I had to repeat my question several times, but finally he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “I’m divorced. I didn’t want it, but I am, and sadly, my ex-wife is very angry with me, so she belittles me in front of the kids. I’m most like Jesus when I resist the temptation to do the same about her. He never returned anything but good for evil. I try to remind myself of that, and I try to tell the kids about her good qualities. I don’t want them to think that whatever part of them comes from her isn’t anything but wonderful.”

The elderly man paused and looked at Pedra, who had been recording his words in shorthand as quickly as he spoke.

“How about you, Pedra,” he asked, “when have you been most like Jesus?”

Pedra looked up from her notepad, then looked down again, not wanting to meet Frank’s gaze. She could feel her cheeks burn, and her first thoughts were all the ways she wasn’t like Jesus at all. Frank let her relax into his silence and simply waited. Finally, she said, “I’m most like Jesus when I’m in this room, listening to your stories, and completely enjoying being with you. I hope He enjoys being with me, but I am absolutely sure He enjoys being with you, Frank.”

“Pedra,” Frank answered, “you have no idea how wonderful you are. And I don’t have much time left to convince you. But you are. You make me feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. That’s a remarkable gift of friendship. And I promise you, Jesus loves being with you, listening to you confide in Him, sharing your friendship. He loves you, Pedra, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in who we are right now.”

She looked at the good man through tears in her eyes.

“Go home,” he said. “Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful.”

Betty here. What more can I say? Go home. Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful. He loves you, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in how we are right now.

See Jesus in yourself.

See Jesus in Service

3 See Jesus – in Service

In our story about Frank, he begins to meet Jesus in others as he serves them. He tells Pedra, who is taking his story down in shorthand:

As I grew to be a teen, I followed the precepts of the Church, obeyed the commandments, even Jesus’ command to “love others as I have loved you.” I knew that could mean dying for others. I prayed I could have that kind of courage. But it also meant living for others, which required its own kind of bravery.

Our Youth Group focused on service to others. At first it felt awkward, going to help people. I thought they might be embarrassed by the contrast between their need and our privileged lives, but most of them were truly grateful. We sorted clothes at a local St. Vincent de Paul and were encouraged to converse with those who shopped there. We ran food drives in our neighborhoods. Later we distributed groceries to shelves at the local food bank or boxed up supplies to be delivered to families. We helped manage the lines of people indoors, or the cars outdoors, as people drove up trying to help their food budget reach the end of the month.

Other times we visited nursing homes for the elderly, and we’d sing some old-time songs or simply spread out and visit with the residents. I learned to admire the kind people who worked in the homes every day, whether cleaning up after accidents, helping with showers, or being cheerful and patient when the residents weren’t. Some folks there felt forgotten and abandoned and their hurt could turn to anger. Once, though, I saw one of the crankiest old men turn into a baby-talking cuddler when a therapy dog nudged his hand for a pet. I think we all need a little nudge out of our self-pity occasionally.

In December we would arrange and throw a Christmas party for foster kids. We’d each pick a toy for someone whose name we’d drawn, but we’d also raised money so each child could take home a suitcase or duffle bag for the meager possessions that travelled with them from home to home. Seeing those kids and hearing some of their stories sure made me grateful for my parents. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we did have lots of love. I grew up with a sense of security that those kids might not ever have known. I still pray for foster kids and that truly good people will be inspired to become foster parents.

Later, after my first year of college, one of my professors found me a part-time job at a homeless shelter. I did some cleaning and cooking, but mostly I listened to stories and offered friendship to the friendless. Like Mary and Joseph who fled to Egypt with their newborn Son, some of the guests were immigrants. Some were down on their luck and had lost their homes. Some were addicted to drugs or alcohol or both. But they all needed to be listened to, to be treated with dignity, to be fed and clothed and sheltered. Those people taught me so much. I learned how little in life is really necessary; how relationship is everything. I learned how Jesus was able to hug the lepers. These folks were just as outcast as lepers, so I figured they were His people. It wasn’t always easy, but I occasionally succeeded at seeing Jesus in them.

One man came in every day for the noon meal. He always wore a tee shirt and jeans, much like most of the men there, but he looked more clean-cut than others. It took me a couple of weeks working there to notice that he moved around the diners chatting here and there, and occasionally took one or another of them into a separate room. I asked my supervisor about it, and he said, “Oh, you must mean Doc. He comes to bandage a blister, offer an antibiotic when something is infected, or encourage a person to go to the free health clinic for more care. I even saw him stitch up a knife wound once.”

I asked if he really was a doctor. My boss shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows,” he said. “But he knows his stuff. He never asks for anything more than his lunch, and the people trust him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Those words made me want someone to say that about me someday. “He’s one of the good guys.” Or even more to the point, I wanted to hear God say, on my judgment day, “Well done, you good and faithful servant. What you did for the least of these, you did for Me.”

Betty here: We all want to hear those words on our own judgment day, when we will see God face to face. Whether through service to the poorest of the poor, to our family and friends, or to the people God places in our lives, whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Him.

See Jesus – In Others

       Welcome, or welcome back to these 4-minute posts written to help us grow.  I usually set my fiction writing aside during Lent, but this year, I will illustrate one aspect of “seeing Jesus” with excerpts from my work-in-progress novel, Jesus’ Joy. In the story, we meet a terminally ill, elderly patient who is dictating stories of his life that tell how he came to see Jesus. He begins when he was a young boy visited by the Virgin Mary in a dream.

Aging with Forgiveness

“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Whenever we look back on our lives, and forward to how we’d like them to grow, we are likely to realize we need to forgive in order to continue to age gracefully. Maybe we need to let go of a past hurt. Maybe we need to forgive ourselves… or maybe God. No one who is holding a grudge or heavy guilt will age with grace.

First, we will look at forgiving others, then below consider how to forgive ourselves.

In the book, Everyone Needs to Forgive Somebody, Allen Hunt offers suggestions to help us discover whom we need to forgive and seven steps to assist in our journey of forgiveness.

1. Remember your own need for forgiveness.
2. Pick one thing you know you ought to forgive.
3. Ask God to saturate you with his grace to help you forgive.
4. If possible, engage the offender in direct, open, honest communication. Don’t accuse, focus on how you feel. Say, “I forgive you.” (Do this in your imagination if the person isn’t available.)
5. Follow your words with some act of reconciliation—perhaps a hug, handshake, or meal together.
6. To prevent the same hurts from occurring again, keep your lines of communication open, with clear, healthy boundaries and guidelines for your relationship.
7. Learn to forgive the small things—with friends, family, or coworkers. Be a person of grace. Don’t dwell on the hurts. Recognize you are still prone to mistakes as you become the-best-version-of-yourself, just as others are.

Forgiving others is a process, not usually a one-time decision. We will possibly fail, but then can try again. Here are a few practices that help me personally:

• Acknowledge to yourself the anger and hurt you feel. If possible, voice it calmly right away to the person who hurt you.
• Don’t continue to “lick the wound.” Dogs make their sores larger by doing this, and so do we when we dwell or obsess on them. Practice “thought stopping” when you find yourself doing this and instead—
• Pray for the person who hurt you. Place them in God’s care. Remind yourself you want to be a forgiver.

Letting Go of Guilt – Forgiving Ourselves

Fr. Peter Siamoo, a priest from Tanzania who studied and worked here in Portland, wrote a book called Restore Your Inner Peace: Personal Healing from Within. In Fr. Peter’s work as a counselor in hospitals and prisons, he found the inability to forgive oneself to be both prevalent and destructive. Perhaps we too have trouble letting go of our mistakes, weaknesses, and past sinfulness. Don’t we, in this study of Aging with Grace, also need to forgive ourselves?

He recommends steps:

1. Acknowledge what you’ve done.
2. Talk about it with a safe person, possibly a good friend, minister, or therapist.
3. Learn from it in order to grow and not repeat the mistake.
4. Make peace with it, not to justify the mistake but to become a wounded healer.
5. Ask for and accept forgiveness from God, who is loving and who readily forgives our transgressions when we sincerely ask for it.
6. Forgive yourself, remembering to love your neighbor as (well as) yourself.

Forgiving ourselves after a mistake is:

• An act of appreciation for God’s love and forgiveness.
• Self-love that restores our inner freedom and peace.
• A choice we make to acknowledge and accept God’s mercy and choose to treat ourselves better than what we think we deserve.
• Worth doing because we deserve a better life than carrying guilt around.
• A way of imitating God who has forgiven us, and
• Important to our being happy.
• Make amends to repair the damage and restore the relationship.

From this week on, let’s love ourselves enough to forgive ourselves… and others!

Blessings on your Lent! We’ve passed halfway!

The Gift of Holy Saturday

Have you ever asked yourself what Holy Saturday is all about? We know the gift of Good Friday – that Jesus suffered and died for us so that we can experience forgiveness now and joy with Him in Heaven. And we understand the gift of Easter – that Jesus rose from the dead, and in so doing, conquered death’s hold over us so that we might rise again, too.

So, what is the gift of Holy Saturday?

Imagine what the disciples must have felt like on Saturday. Surely on Friday they were numb and couldn’t believe what had happened. But Saturday came and they had to admit Jesus had died. All their hopes for a better life must have died with Him. Jesus—who was so charismatic, so good, so filled with potential, who was going to lead them into a new kingdom—had agonized and then breathed His last on the cross.

Think of the women who followed Him and hadn’t been able to embalm His body on Friday. Now on Saturday they were not allowed to do so because of the Sabbath. So, they were left with no way to show Him their devotion, no opportunity to pay tribute to His body. No work to distract themselves from their loss.

I’ve been there, haven’t you? When all your hopes have been destroyed and you realize your dreams will not be realized. Perhaps when someone you love has died? It takes time to process your loss. Your mind doesn’t want to accept the pain and pushes it away in denial. We want to blame someone, and often God takes the brunt of our anger. We are where Lazarus’ sister was when she said, “Lord, if you had been here our brother wouldn’t have died!” We are where Jesus was when He said, “Father, why have You abandoned me?”

Yet, at some point in your Holy Saturday experience, you realize a phase of your life is over, and you must bear the loss and go on.

I think the gift of Holy Saturday is that even when we are at our lowest, and everything seems hopeless, and even when we can’t feel God is near, He is. When we are in that dark pit, alone and desolate and frightened, He is there. When we are “going through Hell,” we can know the Son of God has been there, too. There is no depth we can sink to, where He hasn’t been.

Jesus taught us how to make it through the Holy Saturday loss when, though He felt abandoned, He said, “Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit.” He showed us God still exists, even when we can’t feel Him, and we can trust and place ourselves in His hands.

Yes, He could have risen on Saturday morning. Yes, He could give us everything we want right when we want it. But then we wouldn’t be given the gift of being able to say, “God, I can’t feel You here. I can’t understand what has happened. I’d give anything to change it, and I don’t know why You allowed it. Still, I believe in You. I know, even though it doesn’t seem like it right now, You love me. And I know you are all powerful. So even if I can’t have what I want, I trust You that you know what I need, and You want to shower me with goodness.”

It takes time to get to the point of being able to say this and mean it, all while enduring intense pain. But that’s the gift of Saturday, Time. And because we now know that Jesus did rise and our God isn’t dead, the gift of Saturday is Hope. Because of that Saturday and what happened next, we now can trust that a Sunday will come and with it, the resurrection of all that is good.

Now as Lent draws to an end and we prepare to celebrate Easter, this celebration of new life, let’s resolve to choose life.

Choose gratitude, rather than complaints.

Choose simplicity over materialism and complexity.

Choose relaxation and renewal over busyness.

Choose trust, rather than insecurity.

Choose service, rather than meaningless pursuits.

Choose life!

Choose love!

May all your Saturdays of Despair be followed by Sundays of Life! And may your choices lead you to Joy!

Spiritual Calm

This week let’s take a look at anxiety. Or put more positively, let’s focus on our sense of Calm.

First, some enemies of calm:

• Hurry
• Overextension
• Dwelling on our fears
• Giving in to our fears
• Disorganization
• Indecisiveness
• Procrastination
• Negativity
• Selfishness
• Fear of the future
• Inconsideration
• Unwillingness to say no
• Failure to plan
• Weariness
• Poor prioritization
• Weak self-discipline
• Insufficient self-confidence
• Too little prayer or meditation
• And perhaps most importantly, lack of trust in God

Does one of the listed challenges feel like an area where you need growth? Focus on improving in that one category. An improvement in any area of our lives will improve the other areas as well. But allowing anxiety in any area in our lives can affect our spiritual well-being.

Given that we profess to believe that:

God is all good,

God is all loving,

God is all powerful,

God wants what is best for me,

And true happiness comes from following His will,

Then why are we not spiritually calm?

There can be many reasons, but let’s look at four:

We know what God wants, but we don’t do it. Even St. Paul wrote, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do.” (Romans 7:15)

 Maybe we fail to do what we should because of:

1. Resistance to change
   1. We are satisfied, and comfortable with our current situation.
   2. We feel we’ve done enough and are good enough.
2. Fears, such as:
   1. What He has in store for us will be painful.
   2. Service will take time away from our families and their needs.
   3. We won’t be good enough at what God asks us to do.
   4. He might lead us to suffering, or even death like the martyrs.
3. Contrariness or choosing short-term over long-term gain
   1. I don’t want to.
   2. I don’t have time.
   3. Maybe tomorrow.
4. Wounds from the past
   1. Criticism, judgment, or belittling has left us with low self-confidence.
   2. Accusations from others of being a goody-goody, showing off, or seeming self-righteous.
   3. Continued focus on our weaknesses makes it hard to believe we can do what He asks.
   4. But there is another wound from the past… Someone who represented God, or who pretended to, hurt us and/or our family. In this case, imagine Jesus driving the money changers out of the temple. Or remember that Jesus was hardest on the Pharisees. I believe the few examples of Jesus’ anger show He wants His church leaders to be Good Shepherds to His people, protecting the lambs rather than wounding them. I am so sorry if you were hurt by the very people who should have shown you the most loving kindness. Please seek the healing you need to restore your spirit and know that, though we all are imperfect humans, this should not have happened to you.

With all the above reasons for not doing what we know we should, we must remind ourselves that our All-loving God wants what is best for us, and true happiness comes from following His will.

The second reason we might not be spiritually calm is we don’t know what God’s will is.

Sometimes we seek to choose between two options. If one (or both) was a bad thing, such as breaking a vow or intentionally hurting an innocent person, we’d know it wasn’t God’s will. No dilemma. But sometimes we are trying to discern which direction God wants us to go when both are good choices, such as which career to follow or whether to marry or consider a religious vocation as a single.

• There is no substitute for prayer at these times, and even fasting.
• Consulting other trusted individuals who are wise mentors or counselors is helpful for pointing out areas you might not have considered, but the choice must be yours.
• Sincerely ask yourself if you really do know, but don’t want to admit it because of fear.
• Imagine for a few days you’ve made choice A. How does it make you feel? Do the same with choice B. If one choice seems more attractive, might it be that God is leading you through that attraction?
• Would your strengths serve one choice better than the other? Might God have been preparing you for this choice by your life experiences, even the difficult ones?
• Take time away from your routine to be free to think and pray through the decision. Ask God to lead you, and to redirect you if you are not making the choice He wants.

A third possibility is we are overwhelmed with non-spiritual matters. For six days, work is to be done, but the seventh day shall be your holy day, a day of sabbath rest to the Lord. (Exodus 35:2)

How balanced is your life? Have you set any boundaries that ensure time for spirituality, creativity, family closeness, and fun? We are doing ourselves no favors if we forget that God gave us one day each week to rest and refresh. On that day we should be enjoying our families, moving closer to Him through prayer or spiritual reading, and expressing our creative, fun side.

Fourth, perhaps we aren’t calm because our relationship with God is weak. How can we trust someone we don’t know?

Matthew Kelly writes about a very dependable way to deepen any relationship, be it with God, spouse, best friend, or children. He calls it, Carefree Timelessness. By this he means spending time without an agenda, simply to enjoy someone’s company. No matter what the relationship, increase carefree timelessness and it will deepen. Spend some carefree timelessness with God. Chat with Him. And listen. “When you feel the absolute calm has been broken, come away alone with Me until your heart sings, and all is strong and calm.” From the book God Calling, February 21 entry.

Let’s end this exploration of calm with a disclaimer. Don’t expect to remain spiritually calm, even when you obey God’s nudges. We will find joy from obedience, but in my experience, it won’t be long before God nudges us back out of our new comfort zone and encourages us toward more growth and more joy!

But even before you find yourself spiritually calm, perhaps you can be a calm eye-of-the-storm for someone else. Listen to them when they are in need. Don’t be surprised if find your own worries seem small by comparison, and you can gain perspective.

Necessary Losses

In her book, Necessary Losses, Judith Viorst discusses the “loves, illusions, dependencies, and impossible expectations that all of us have to give up in order to grow.” Our life, our growth could be seen as a progression of letting go.

She writes:

In the course of our life we leave and are left and let go of much that we love. Losing is the price we pay for living. It is also the source of much of our growth and gain. Making our way from birth to death, we also have to make our way through the pain of giving up and giving up and giving up some portion of what we cherish.

We have to deal with our necessary losses.

We should understand how these losses are linked to our gains.

For in leaving the blurred-boundary bliss of mother-child oneness, we become a conscious, unique and separate self, exchanging the illusion of absolute shelter and absolute safety for the triumphant anxieties of standing alone.

And in bowing to the forbidden and the impossible, we become a moral, responsible, adult self, discovering—within the limitations imposed by necessity—our freedoms and choices.

And in giving up our impossible expectations, we become a lovingly connected self, renouncing ideal visions of perfect friendship, marriage, children, family life for the sweet imperfections of all-too-human relationships.

And in confronting the many losses that are brought by time and death, we become a mourning and adapting self, finding at every stage—until we draw our final breath—opportunities for creative transformations.

There is plenty we must give up in order to grow. For we cannot deeply love anything without becoming vulnerable to loss. And we cannot become separate people, responsible people, connected people, reflective people without some losing and leaving and letting go.

Viorst lists times in our lives when we must let go, followed by what we will gain by doing so:

Childhood’s End – We give up a belief that we can be kept safe and receive instead the freedom and responsibility to make our own choices. We accept reality, and with it accept that we don’t get special treatment, absolute control, compensation for past loss, or perfect companions. We don’t blame our current lives on our childhood.

The Married State – We learn that no person can meet all our expectations all of the time, nor can some expectations ever be met. Our spouse can’t make us be happy, heal all our hurts from the past, or fill all our needs. Those unfulfilled expectations are necessary losses in order to truly love our less-than-perfect spouses.

Letting Children Go – In parenting we fear our imperfect love will harm our children, or we will fail to keep them safe. Facing our fallibility as parents is another of our necessary losses. We must let our children become steadily more independent and let go of them and our dreams for them. It is also through parenting that we accept that some things we wanted from our own parents we will never receive. We learn to give thanks for imperfect connections.

The Loss of Youth – Time will repeatedly force us to relinquish our self image and move on. We travel stages of our adulthood and must move out of times of stability into times of transition. We leave youth and health behind. We lose abilities and strengths. We let go of dreams as we realize we’ll never accomplish them all. Yet we gain experience, inner depth, acceptance of others, patience, and self-control. We move from body preoccupation to body transcendence. We move from identifying ourselves by what we do or who we parent to who we are. We can become an integrated whole, accepting our weaknesses along with our strengths.

The Loss of our Loved Ones – Mourning is the process of adapting to the losses in our lives. We travel through and revisit stages of numbness, denial, intense emotional pain, bargaining, anger, guilt, and idealizing whom or what we lost. But as we find our way through the mourning and learn to let go of our pain, we can come to acceptance.

Accepting our Mortality – By letting go of our pretense that we will live forever, we acknowledge the importance of the present. We live enriched lives, knowing that each day is vital. We make the most of the present to find a way to leave a legacy to the world for the future.

When we are children, we tend to strive to achieve the next level of growth. My granddaughter has just begun to walk and now her day is spent standing up and down, climbing up and down, daring herself to toddle farther, always strengthening newly controlled muscles and determined to achieve even more.

For some reason, as adults, we hold tighter to what we have achieved and need longer periods of stability before and if we progress again. Sometimes we would refuse to progress if the option were given to us. We know God wants us to become the best we can, which means continually growing, improving, and fighting our weaknesses. Yet, we fear the unknown, grow comfortable with the present, and hold tightly to what we treasure. (Wouldn’t it be better if, instead of collecting treasures, we shared ourselves?)

If we are blessed with a long life, we will face many necessary losses. We lose the constant companionship of our children as they grow up and move away. Even grandchildren will eventually be too old to nestle into grandma’s lap. Many of us will lose our spouses, as well as dear friends. We will adjust over and over to new health issues, grieving the loss of pain-free joints and sharp vision or hearing or thinking, while possibly relying on a cane or walker or wheelchair. We may downsize our house, letting go of sentimental attachment to things.

I watched my mother, who worked until she was 86, need to let go of so much in the course of a couple of years. She had to stop driving and soon after that, she moved from her own little house to our guest bedroom and gave up what treasures wouldn’t fit in our van. She left behind a lifetime of Montana friends and familiar places. When later she moved by train from my house to my brother’s home in California, she brought two large suitcases and left the rest behind. And yet, she did all this with grace. She doesn’t even complain now when Covid keeps her homebound, and she can no longer go to church in person.

Life will hurt us, but because of our wounds, we will stretch and grow and be more than we were. Perhaps this process of letting go, if done well, makes room for God.

Being alive means we will suffer loss. But the loss will open us to new possibilities. Jesus lost his life, but by doing so, regained for us the Kingdom of God. He rose to new life so that we will, too. In that life, there will be no loss.

Blessings on you and on your week!

Betty Arrigotti.