Among Women 134

Together we share the concerns often found on a woman’s heart, as we explore themes of faith, life and death, the feminine genius, family, and prayer. Sarah shares her heart not only in concerts as a singer and songwriter, but as beautiful wife, mother, and evangelist with a passion for women’s ministry. Don’t miss this one!  Find Sarah Hart’s music on iTunes.

Copyright 2012 Pat Gohn

Over the last three years, several writers from Catholic Mom have been guests on my weekly podcast, Among Women. Created in Lent 2009, Among Women grew out of my years of ministry in local churches, and my special regard for women’s ministries.

The Among Women podcast and blog celebrates the beauty and grace of a Catholic woman’s faith and life. It’s faith sharing, teaching, and some good old-fashioned girl talk rolled into one. Each podcast has two segments: “Blessed are They” looks back on inspirational women who are saints, mystics, blesseds, or women from the Bible. The “Among Women” segment focuses on conversations with contemporary women on themes that are important to them.

Among Women has over 125 episodes on a variety of topics.  Its growth and success comes from social media contacts, church bulletin announcements, and, of course, word of mouth. Why not share Among Women as a resource for the women in your life and parish?

Meanwhile, get to know the women behind the bylines here at Catholic Mom, by listening to a few episodes, including three shows with founder of CM, Lisa Hendey.

AW 121: “Each Life is a Masterpiece” with Leticia Velasquez

AW 117: “The Gifts We are to Each Other” with Patti Maguire Armstrong

AW 116: “The Advent of Advent” with Sarah Reinhard

AW 113: “Communing with the Saints” with Lisa Hendey

AW 107: “Making Peace with Your Body” with Kate Wicker

AW 89:  “The Sacred Heart” with Ellen Gable Hrkach

AW 78: “Be An Amazing Catechist” with Lisa Mladinich

AW 62: “Catholic New Media” with Maria Morera Johnson

AW 59: “The Rosary Workout” with Peggy Bowes

AW 56: “The Handbook for Catholic Moms” with Lisa Hendey

AW 50: “Kids and the Bible” with Heidi Hess Saxton

AW 43: “Lisa’s Reversion Story” with Lisa Mladinich

AW 39: “Mom of 10” with Patti Maguire Armstrong

AW 30: “Cause of our Joy” with Leticia Velasquez

AW 27: “The Coping with Breast Cancer” with Lisa Hendey

AW 26: “The Inspiration of Mother Teresa” with Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle

AW 15: “Mommy Blogging and Motherhood” with Kate Wicker

AW 13: “The Blessing of Music” with Susan Bailey

AW 11: “The Snoring Scholar and Great Books” with Sarah Reinhard

AW 10: “All Things Girl” with Cheryl Dickow

AW 6: “The Writing Life” with Patrice Fagnant-MacArthur and Leticia Velazquez

Copyright 2012 Pat Gohn

We lug the groceries into the car, and finally up to her place. Actually, she defers to me and does most of the lugging. She reminds me, this is the last “move in” back to college… I know that but I don’t say. I am having one of those how time flies moments, as all seems right with her world.

In a blink, I am transported back to another cold blustery January day when I am doing the lugging… lifting her into her booster car seat in the mini-van that carried us everywhere. Her baby brother is already strapped in, as we were food shopping while the eldest was still at school. That day was memorable for what went wrong!

As I turned to get the children in to the van, beyond my gaze, a wind gust mysteriously eased the filled-beyond-capacity shopping cart away from the rear bumper of the van. And the cart, heavy and heaving on the twisty front wheels, managed to slip a few feet away from its berth near the rear hatch. And the wind kicked up.

There you go darlin’, all buckled in while Mommy unloads the groceries out of the… What the? Where’d it go?

And there it was going… my grocery cart picking up speed about 12 cars away already… So, as the kids were safe and secure in the car, I bolted after the cart. Gee, I never noticed the pitch of this parking lot… look at that thing go! 

Uh oh.

There’s a sudden sideways lurching of the wriggling wheels and ohnoitsgonnacrash into that red Ford Escort. BONK!

Oh, man! There is a dent — a long vertical dent, the size and shape of the corner of my errant cart. This isn’t a kiss-it-up-to-God moment, kids. No, this ain’t no innocent door ding. This is a bona fide crunch to the front quarter-panel over the wheel well.

Did anybody else see this happen? Nobody. Save me and the kids. And God. My heart sank. I know how I would feel if my car was sporting a dent that large.

I bring the cart back to van and unload it, keeping one eye on the little red car, hoping to meet the owner to explain what happened. I finish and the kids want to know when we are going to go home. I’m waiting a few more minutes to see if the owner of the car emerges from one of the stores. No luck. So I write a note of apology with my name and number and pin it under the windshield. Yes, that’s the responsible thing to do. The honest thing would later cost me $240 to have Mrs. Living-On-a-Fixed-Income’s Escort unwrinkled.

Back in the kitchen of my daughter’s apartment, we unload the groceries. She is making me a sandwich and pouring me a coffee — just the way I like it. She gives me the exact mug that I would have chosen myself — the one with the picture of one of my favorite beaches on it. When did she get so perceptive?

In a heartbeat I’m back twenty years at another kitchen table pulling my own peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich alongside the Fisher-Price high chair. I’m staring at the little towhead cutie ready for lunch, and I hand her favorite sippy cup without her having to ask. When you love someone, you get to know their preferences, and you offer those options whenever you can.

Now it’s nearing the time for me to leave. We talk about the campus organizations she leads and the transitions for new officers now that she’s almost done. She still has new books to buy for her classes, and a new boss to check in with at her new part-time job. I have a full day of work to finish after my drive home too.

And I realize that after a lifetime of having my daughter observe my actions, now I’m watching her. I am no longer surprised by shifts like these, or by time picking up speed.

She walks with me to the car. A hug and I love yous… For perhaps the last time I whisper, Study hard.

She smiles, and mimics an eye-roll, I always do.

I know you do, honey. It shows.

Copyright 2012 Patricia W. Gohn

I hope your life at college is going well. Your last email and your Facebook statuses all sound pretty positive. Your departure as the youngest child off to college means that there are a few new things going on around here. So I thought I’d let you know about them before you arrive home between semesters.

After 24 years of parenting, I’ve gotten rid of the infamous lost sock bag. That’s right. Let the purging begin. I matched what could be matched, and the rest will be recycled into grease rags for Dad’s auto repair kit, dust clothes, and doggie chew toys. There are only two people here now, one guy, one gal. Finding mated sock pairs is pretty easy. But I almost caved on the whole project when I got to the bottom of the bag and found blue socks from when you were little. No lie! Blue uniform socks from grade school! *sniff* Unmatched in size, of course! But I could not throw them away. Not quite yet. I am keeping them in an undisclosed location since there is no more random sock bag.

Today I finally dropped off that clothing bag you put together for the St. Vincent de Paul collection before you left for college. I recognized those oxford shirts you wore to the prep school. I’m going to miss those. They kept your wardrobe simple.

I’m shopping for a new bathtub. Yup, we’re taking the sledgehammer to the upstairs “kids bathroom.” Hope it will be done by the time you get home. We’ll see.

I’m still adjusting to a shorter grocery list.

I am buying more fresh fish and more wine for the menu. Things I can afford now that there’s only two of us. Fresh tuna cost $17.99 a pound! No wonder I never bought it before. Dad said I better not go to the fish market too often.

I had a hankering for watermelon and had to buy one that was pre-sliced. Yuck. I disliked that someone else already sliced and wrapped up my slab of watermelon. But I’d fretted about wasting a whole one that Dad and I would not finish.

Speaking of sweet things, I was missing you today at the bakery. I saw those muffins that you liked… the kind with the mini chocolate chips? I resisted buying one, since I really only bought them for you. Had I bought one I would have eaten it. Then missed you even more. I consoled myself with an iced coffee.

There are no sugar cereals in the pantry. Today we pick from Special K, Cheerios, and Kashi. I may just run out and get some Cocoa Puffs, you know, for medicinal purposes. I think I feel a hot flash coming on.

The frig is only about half full, and I’ve already thrown out 2 gallons of soured milk. We just don’t drink it as fast anymore around here. It really is amazing how much I associate different foods in my shopping routine with your likes and dislikes.

Am contemplating breaking out my espresso machine. Thought I’d fire it up and actually leave it out on the counter, rather than just taking it out for special occasions. There’s so much extra space around here these days.

Took my walk in the cool weather we’ve been having. Wore my new college hoodie with your school’s insignia, and my baseball cap from your high school team. Did not even realize I did that, nor that I did not “match.” Yeah, I’m missing you. Dad decided to walk with me. He had on another college shirt with a different college cap on. We are walking billboards for where our money goes. But we love it, of course.

I’m having a hard time not hearing your piano playing every day. Twelve years of classical music as dinnertime preludes is a hard luxury to let go of. I have some piano playlists on my iTunes but it’s not the same. I hope you find a new instructor in the fine arts department. You’ve got to keep up your skills to impress your mother when you get home.

The dog is sleeping more, and demanding more of my time. He is missing you making him chase tennis balls that are rocketed off the end of the bat. I throw like a girl.

Here’s a crazy thing: we’ve got too many cars. At the moment, and this is embarrassing to admit, we have 5. And there are only two of us home! Even if I drove a different one to work every day – you know, selecting which one went best with my outfit, or some insane criteria like that– it would still be three too many. I mean, that is if I drove to work. You know I work from home.

So my car is being sold. Dad and I will share his. Your truck will be around for Dad’s little projects and for when you get home. Sis’ car will stay since she’ll need one to go to work once she’s got the degree in her hot little hands come May. And then, there’s Dad’s MGB, which he informed me is not a car but “a recreational vehicle,” which I always equate with those rolling campers. So, by the time you get home after this semester, it’s likely we’ll only have 3 cars and one recreational vehicle.

Meanwhile I spoke to the insurance carrier. You and your sister are coming off our policy for a few months. We’ll save close to $2000 this year doing that. Imagine that. I might get the bathroom finished after all.

I was reading my bible the other day, during my morning devotional time, and came across a story about St. Peter. And tried to not to obsess about your departure… I’m mean, you know, letting all that mushy Mom crap weep out from the corners of my eyes.  I guess that will be a hazard in my bible reading from now on… being that you’ve got a biblical name and all. Maybe I better stick to Paul’s epistles for a few more weeks.

I really enjoyed visiting your new campus on “Parents Weekend”. I hope you are working hard at your studies and meeting new people. And of course, going to church. I’m praying for you every day, even while I’m missing all the little things about you.

Have internet will travel. So said the Mom who works from a desk at home. I’ve taken three trips since you left — accompanying your Father to Washington DC, Atlanta, and Denver. I think I’m finding a new rhythm reverberating off the edges of the empty nest.

Oh and guess who I saw at the pharmacy this week? Your second grade teacher! She couldn’t believe you were in college already. We joked that we both looked too young for you to be this old!

Yes, the years really do fly by. And the things we miss the most are almost mundane but beautiful: the smiles, the snacks together in front of the fireplace, the play-it-again songs and games, the table talk…  That’s the stuff of life.

Stay true to who you are and what you value.

Text me soon. A call would be even better.

Love,

Mom

PS: Update on the Cocoa Puffs. I actually did buy some the week before you were due to come home for Thanksgiving. But I ate them. (I was a puddle one minute and a blizzard the next.) I apologize that only the Cheerios were left when you came home. Looking forward to seeing at the holidays! XO. I think the grocery story is having a sale on cereal this week.

Copyright 2011 Pat Gohn

I have kissed my son and waved goodbye. The day finally came to for him, the youngest of the brood, to pull up anchor and sail off for college. As I’ve come to assess the condition of my mother’s heart, I find a contented peace, like a sunset after a long working day. My years of sailing a thousand smaller voyages with this young man now bring me here, standing on the shore of blessing.

The giant ship — that is, an adult child’s college career or work life — and the sails that are made to harness the winds of successful living, are, in the end, steered by the smallest rudder… for the conscience is hidden deep. It invisibly navigates every journey, guiding the course.

Such are the paradoxes of the Catholic faith. We can easily recall how the smallest Host of bread contains the greatest mystery and the holiest power. To consume it – to let it transform us – is to yield the tiller to Another’s gentle hand and influence. It never fails to reveal True North to the sailor.

My husband and I took pains to always start there, with the development of conscience: To shine a beacon on the truth, to foster a love not only for the gift of the sea, but for the Giver as well. We knew, one day, the still small voice of the interior man would be his ultimate Master and Commander. To know one’s identity and destiny, to serve it passionately with honor and duty, and to love above all else, is the secret to sailing freely. It cannot prevent storms or rough seas from affecting the ship, but it supplies steady fortitude against fear of capsize.

This is the plebe’s course to navigate now. And he is ready.

We’ve passed along what we know of compass and charts.

Under our watch, he learned the ropes, passed the tests, and developed a strong stroke. Countless practice maneuvers tested his mettle and his senses.  Years of hard training, straining in the whitecaps, are coming about. The emergency drills have been reviewed, the knots well tied, the rigging tested, and the galley is finally stocked. A trunk full of homeport reminders is also stowed aboard.

We who were charged with his progress and development watched him grow into a restless sailor itching to sail.

We could not deny that the wind was right.

Finally commanding his own vessel, we untied the lines and dispatched him to sail his ship, to learn the solo rigors of open waters. As the wind kicks up, we commit the youngest of our fleet to the care of the Ocean Maker and the Guardian of the Deep. We asked the Star of the Sea to be his guide and mistress.

And like so many before us, we stand on the shoreline and watch the horizon, eager for good winds and temperate seas.

Godspeed, Good Man. Send us word before too long.

Copyright 2011 Patricia W. Gohn

Oh, yeah, I know she’s got many more formal titles: the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Theotokos or the Mother of God, Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Ark of the Covenant, and every amazing title we find in the Litany of Loreto handed down from the sixteenth century.

Over several decades, my relationship with her progressed in friendship and familial love. I’ve grown from being a casual observer to a daughter. For me, Mary has changed from being a distant biblical character, to my prayer partner, friend, sister, and mother.

I am a devotee of the rosary, and my fellow rosary chicks with whom I pray know I often call her Momma Mary. I also favor familiar nicknames that reflect her motherhood toward me.

Mom’s the word, you could say… Or rather M.O.M.S. is an acronym – an easy shorthand – for the personal litany of how Mary mothers me.

Mary is the Mother of Many Sinners. (M.O.M.S.) But she doesn’t want us to stay that way. She wants to bring us to Jesus. In fact, in some of his last words from the Cross, Jesus made her the mother to all of us, in the order of grace, when he gave her to John, the beloved disciple… “Behold your mother.”  (John 19: 27.)

Every disciple must struggle against sin. In Scripture we see that Mary was a mother to all the disciples in the Upper Room on the day of Pentecost. Each one was a sinner who came to love her Son. And the Holy Spirit instilled his fire in each one on that day. Pentecost reflected the kind of woman Mary always was — filled with grace, and ready to share it.

Going all the way back to the stable of Bethlehem we see Mary’s maternal heart in action. Mary and Jesus were the only non-sinners in the room, but she welcomed each imperfect visitor who drew near to her most precious Son, from the rich and famous Magi, to the most humble shepherd from the backcountry.

Every Scriptural depiction of Mary shows her love and concern for others… folks who were sinners like me who wanted to come closer to Jesus. Mary doesn’t condone our sin, but she doesn’t judge it either. She leaves that to Jesus’ mercy. That is why she is known as “a refuge for sinners.” She just invites us to be with her and then reminds us to “do whatever He tells you.” (Luke 2:5.)

Mary is also the Mother of Many Saints (M.O.M.S.). And this really is heart of what she longs for each of her many children.

St Louis de Montfort taught that Mary is the molder of saints, who were once sinners.

I say the saints are molded in Mary. There is a vast difference between carving a statue by blows of hammer and chisel and making a statue by using a mold.  Sculptors and statue makers work hard and need plenty of time to make statues by the first method. But the second method does not involve much work and takes very little time.  St. Augustine, speaking to our Blessed Lady says, “You are worthy to be called the mold of God.”  Mary is a mold capable of forming people into the image of the God-man.  Anyone who is cast into this divine mold is quickly shaped and molded into Jesus and Jesus into him. At little cost and in a very short time he will become Christ-like since he is cast into the very same mold that fashioned a God-man.

… [They] have discovered the beautiful mold of Mary where Jesus was so divinely and so naturally formed.  They do not rely on their own skill but on the perfection of the mold. They cast themselves and lose themselves in Mary where they become true models of her Son.

Besides St Louis, there have been countless saintly disciples devoted to Mary. St. Dominic, St. Alphonse Liguori, St. Thomas Aquinas, St Catherine of Siena, St. John Vianney, and St. Bernadette were all sold out for Mary. Even modern saints like St. Maximilian Kolbe, St. Padre Pio, and Blesseds Teresa of Calcutta and John Paul II were Marian-devoted. That’s a good enough short list for me.

Mary is the Mother of my Merciful Savior (M.O.M.S). Mercy has done more for me than I can fully explain here. Through Mary, the whole world was able to receive Jesus, and the new life that comes through his unfathomable and deep mercy. Thanks to Jesus, we have also been given a most merciful mother. I need both.

Mary is the Mother of My Sanity, and the Mother of My Sorrows. (More M.O.M.S.) She keeps me steady as well as she keeps my deepest confidences. She comforts me when I’m afflicted and afflicts me when I get too comfortable. Like a good Momma, she has seen me through broken dreams and broken relationships, not to mention births, deaths, cancer, other health crises, moves, menopause, and job loss. She was also the one who cheered me through good times, successful ventures, and all the average days in between.

Mary is the Mother of My Seriousness and the Mother of My Silliness. Being Mary’s child means she “gets” me. There’s a deep seriousness to my character, but a joyful child just below its surface. I’m a mixed bag and she knows it. Mary’s mothering of me through her many virtues has done more to help understand, balance, and alleviate the ups and downs of my soul, my temperament, and my mistakes, than any self-help text, or therapist ever could.

Mary mothers all of me, not just the spiritual parts. And for that you could call her the Mother of My Sanctity. For when it comes to the call to holiness in my life, if there is anything that dimly reflects Jesus and all that is Good, she helped to give it shape. Like St. Louis said, I do not have to rely on my own skill, but only on the perfections of my molder, my mentor, my Mother.

Here are two simple prayers to ask for Mary’s intercession that I use: Mary, help me to love Jesus like you did. And, Mary, be a mother to me now.

Mom’s the word I want to use most to describe Mary.

Happy Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary on August 15^th, and Happy Feast of the Queenship of Mary on August 22^nd!

Copyright 2011 Pat Gohn

In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a city of Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the babe leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the voice of your greeting came to my ears, the babe in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” (Luke 1: 39-45.)

On May 31, the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

In this powerful encounter, two women — Mary, now miraculously pregnant with the Christ Child, and Elizabeth, whose maternity carried his forerunner John the Baptist — get their first look at one another after being separated by time and distance. But there’s more going on than a happy family reunion… there’s supernatural history being made!

Prior to this visitation, Mary received a miraculous visit from an Angel of God. On that day Mary not only received the good news of her own maternity, but the Holy Spirit overshadowed her and she conceived the God-Man in her womb. Then, the Angel went on to explain the similarly almost-impossible-to-believe baby news of Mary’s older cousin Elizabeth who suffered from a lifetime of infertility. Indeed, both women had miracles to share! (See the annunciation account in Luke 1: 26-37.)

Luke’s Gospel, therefore, has a few different stories going on all at once…

First there’s the story of these two women who are family. The younger one, Mary, takes great pains, given her times and condition, to travel the distance between her home in Nazareth to the hill country in Judah. Still, she undertakes the journey in order to share in Elizabeth’s joy — and her own — to do what women do — take care of each other when a baby is due. For Elizabeth is already six months along and there’s much to prepare!

This is the dynamic that many women recognize — the “nesting” that accompanies the birth of a first child. What a boon to Elizabeth her cousin Mary must have been.. to have a young, vibrant, and deeply spiritual woman around the house for three months as her newborn arrives. And then Mary, newly betrothed to Joseph, who will benefit from the elder Elizabeth’s loving mentoring and wisdom as she adjusts to her new life as wife and mother.

You can just picture it, right?

This scene was just Day One of a great sisterhood that would fill the next three months, a kind of “working retreat” for these two who loved and served each other as kinswomen: Women who will share countless conversations over the cooking and the household chores as they discuss the mysteries of life together. There would be time to pray and ponder, as they work side by side to prepare for their babies. And these were preparations for no ordinary babies. Foretold by the Prophets, these sons would grow to be men with a Godly mission that would change the world. In fact, we already get inklings from Luke that the world has already changed.

The second story being played out in this biblical account is on a spiritual plane. For besides the story of the visitation between these two holy women, there is the story of their two sons in utero who “meet” and “greet” each other in a supernatural way. It seems uncanny and miraculous.

Mary, already the theotokos – the “God-bearer” – brings Jesus into the home of Zechariah and Elizabeth. Then the child in Elizabeth’s womb “leaps for joy” in a supernatural recognition of the presence of the long-awaited Messiah. Even from the womb, John, the soon-to-be-herald of the Christ, begins his ministry of preparing the way for Jesus, by “announcing” that he is come, as his mother verbalizes the sentiment.

Further, Luke’s Gospel is embedded with language that echoes the Old Testament stories of King David’s processions and prayers – with leaping and dancing for joy – before the Ark of the Covenant, the ancient tabernacle of the Presence of the Most High God. (See 2 Sam 2: 6, 16, 1 Chron 15:26, 16: 4-5.) This is why scripture scholars have, for centuries, called the Blessed Virgin Mary the new Ark of the Covenant.

And now we see a new order contained in Elizabeth’s marvelous Spirit-inspired greeting of Mary: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”

Here is yet a third layer to the same story…

Elizabeth’s exclamations proclaim two truths in tandem: that Jesus is the Lord, and that Mary is the Mother of the Lord.

In the former, we see fulfillment of God’s Word, of his promises to the Prophets to be with His People through a King that would be born. This is Jesus, the Lord — the long-awaited Anointed One of Israel whose presence every Jew longed for! Jesus now comes to the earth, recognized by John and Elizabeth, yet hidden from view in the sanctity of Mary’s womb. Elizabeth doesn’t guess Mary’s secret, she is given spiritual knowledge of this truth, just as her baby knew it and proclaimed it by his movements.

Finally, there’s a fourth level to this story. Elizabeth recognizes that this visitation not only declares something special about Jesus, but she also proclaims the truth about Mary. Centuries later, her words would be confirmation by the Church of what it already knew as the first Marian dogma — thanks to the Angel’s message to Mary — Mary is the Mother of God, the theotokos. A dogma is never a new idea, or something the Church invents; no, it is only the Church’s confirmation of what already exists as a profound truth.

Elizabeth first uses the words that we use today to describe Mary: she is “blessed” among women. She is not only the most graced woman of all, but she is also the happiest of all: her Son Jesus bestowed that joy on her by his presence in her womb. Elizabeth echoes it with her words. And we recall it every time we pray the “Hail Mary” prayer.

Following Elizabeth’s greeting, Mary breaks out into the song, or canticle, that we know as “The Magnificat”. Her heart is bursting with joy…

My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden.
For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name. (Luke 1:46-49.)

You could say that, in the Visitation, Mary makes the first missionary journey…  she joyfully brings Christ to the world… the first stop being the home of Zechariah, Elizabeth, and soon-to-be-born John. You could also say that Mary, as a good mother would, finds personal joy in sharing the Lord’s presence with us, whenever we invite him into our hearts and homes.

But Mary’s greatest joy will be sharing Christ’s presence with us in the fullness of joy that is our heavenly home.  Then the true fruits of her Visitation will be realized.

©2011 Patricia W. Gohn

Soon my family will meet my daughter in Rome before she ends her semester abroad. I expect similar connections to be discovered in the Masses we will attend at St. Peter’s Basilica. There will be thousands of pilgrims there, and we’ll experience the Mass we’ve come to know at home in a new way: in Latin and many international languages during the high holy days.

I know just how my daughter feels. It is wonderful to discover that we are members of this amazing global Catholic Church. It is astounding to think that, at every moment of the 24-hour day, a Mass is being offered somewhere, touching every hemisphere.

Thinking back over my own life, I have been to Mass in cathedrals and in humble open-air churches on remote islands. I have been camping where I attended outdoor Masses. I once had the privilege of a Mass being offered in my back yard! I have been to Masses in different countries and cities and towns.  I have been blessed in much the same way by the unity of the experience, whether at the shrines of saints, school chapels, or stadiums where the Pope visits.

The Mass contains a rich and penetrating familiarity to it, no matter the rite, or place, or number of people gathered there. That’s because Jesus is present is there.

Jesus is there in his Word, in the people gathered there, in the priest, and most uniquely and profoundly in the Eucharist. The same Jesus that once walked the shores of Galilee and the dusty roads between Jerusalem and Nazareth humbly comes at the beckoning of the prayers of consecration to inhabit a small wafer of bread.  Jesus becomes the Bread of Life. And he comes to feed the hungry and the lowly and the lonely and the hurting and the broken in all of us.

I figure that if I conservatively count the Sunday Masses only, I have been to Mass over 2200 times in my life since making my first Holy Communion in the second grade. I can’t say that at every Mass I’ve had that feeling of global interconnectedness, but it does wake up my imagination to consider this idea of the worldwide Body of Christ, even as I receive the very Body of Christ. And, beyond that, to begin to grasp that the Body of Christ on earth is linked powerfully, though often imperceptibly, to the Body of Christ that is in heaven and purgatory. What we see physically and tangibly is not all there is!

If we can begin to get the sense of a global church, we are not far from understanding the connection between heaven and earth via the Body of Christ. But to do so, we have to enlarge our understanding of what the Body of Christ really and truly is. In other words, though at times we marvel at the vastness of the Universal Church on earth, it really is just the smallest segment of the Church in reality. We are connected, via Jesus, to all the faithful – throughout the ages – to a larger and more spectacular Body.

There are three states of the Church. They are traditionally called the Church militant (those of us on earth), the Church suffering (those souls in purgatory), and the Church triumphant (those saints in heaven). And that Church triumphant holds all the saints and holy souls from the beginning of time!

“We believe in the communion of all the faithful of Christ, those who are pilgrims on earth, the dead who are being purified, and the blessed in heaven, all together forming one Church; and we believe that in this communion, the merciful love of God and his saints is always [attentive] to our prayers” (Paul VI, Credo of the People of God, § 30).

This point is well illustrated in The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis. In the following passage Screwtape, the senior tempter, is writing to his nephew, Wormwood, a junior devil. Screwtape’s counsel is to not let a young Christian know that he is part of this magnificent Church that extends beyond the local parish, but to let him be daunted and discouraged by the imperfections of his local parishioners.  Screwtape writes:

One of our great allies at present is the Church itself. Do not misunderstand me. I do not mean the Church as we see her spread out through all time and space and rooted in eternity, terrible as an army with banners. That, I confess, is a spectacle which makes our boldest tempters uneasy. But fortunately it is quite invisible to these humans. All your patient sees is the half-finished, sham Gothic erection on the new building estate… (The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis).

When we catch a glimpse of the majesty of what the Church really is, both as a global entity, and an eternal one, we begin to understand that this Big Church extends into eternity. The Church is truly just reflective of the Big God we have: a God Who at once is both omnipresent and omniscient in every sublime way, while at the same time, is hidden from view within the host in Holy Communion. It’s the same God, but different, you know?

Copyright 2011 Pat Gohn

When I unload my burden in prayer, God hears it, receives it, and cherishes it. Call it what you like. This is no highbrow prayer. It’s prayer from the pit, or the gut, from the dark recesses of the heart. Real. Honest.

Filial love is beyond where I acknowledge that God is God and I am not. (Don’t get me wrong, that’s a great starting point for prayer too.) But the grace of one’s baptism is way past that… it’s living one’s true identity as a child of God.

Sometimes it takes a while to get honest about who we really are before God. Years even. But when our egocentricities and mistakes take their toll, the cry from our heart leaks out. Fortunately for us, God knows all about it. And he has been waiting for us to bring him whatever is tearing us up inside.

Closer than my next breath, God my Father is ready to move in my situation if I give him room to act.

In our moment of relinquishment God does his best work. God waits for those honest moments – conversion moments! —when we lean more into him, and less on ourselves.  Its then we unpack the truest gift of baptism – our redemption!

The Church has many soulful, traditional prayers: the Lord’s Prayer, the Hail Mary, the Creed, the Angelus, the Mass, etc. The Psalms are prayer-songs.  Words or phrases from them often match our identity and circumstances.

And yet, there is a time and a place for our own honest heart cries before the Lord. We don’t have to sanitize our prayer or pray well before the One in whose Name we were baptized. We just have to mean it.

When I am dealing with hardship or trials… when I fear I might burst into tears if I stop long enough to admit that out loud… then I am ready for the honest prayer that God wants most to hear. As I open my misery to God’s sovereignty, his grace pours in.

The Gospel proves this:  In the darkest moment in history, Jesus, the Son of God, cried aloud from the cross of crucifixion to his Heavenly Father: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? (Mk 15:34)”  (In that moment, Jesus was praying from Psalm 22: 2.)  It was the cry of his heaving, broken heart.

Jesus prayed openly and honestly. Even in anguish, it is still a filial prayer… The prayer of a Beloved Son to a Father. Honest filial prayer is transformative.

Jesus surrendered his prayer and his life for the sake of God’s better plan. In return the Father transformed that lowest moment into an exalted one: yielding Salvation for the world.

“In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered, and being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him. (Heb 5:7-9)”

Copyright 2011 Pat Gohn

Recently, I was in a situation that truly impressed on my heart just how important it is to stop and intentionally ask the people in my social milieu and workplace the simple question, “How are you?”

At a recent church function, a woman who is a longtime acquaintance came up to me and expressed her loving concern for my predicament as I hobbled along.  For the fifth time that night, I had to explain myself, and I was getting a little tired of my on-going narrative.  I gave her the 60-second version of my story.  Knowing she was a nurse, I mentioned how wonderful it is to have great people like her in healthcare to suffer with the likes of me! As I thanked her for loving concern, I wondered aloud with her, how many people in this room with us have hurts and burdens that we cannot see… and if anyone rushed up to them to ask how they are doing?

At that moment, my friend’s eyes grew wide. She dabbed at a tear as she pushed back her glasses. So I asked the obvious: how are you? And then I listened. We talked together for the rest of the night about a very painful family situation. I offered my own concern and support.

Look, I’m no saint, and I can’t say for sure, but I wonder if I did not give this person an opening to share, would she have had anyone else there that night that might have listened? Again, I don’t know. It was a buzzing church fellowship setting with lots of normal chitchat.

Still, I wonder if my cast provided a natural opening for her to come and talk with me? Again, I don’t know. But I do know that now this woman’s situation is the focus of my prayers and my ongoing concern.

Pausing to reflect, it occurs to me just how often I am as dense as an iceberg; I fail to stop and ask this very simple question…  how are you? I need to do that more, and, more importantly, I must pause to wait for the response.

I’ve found this sage advice to be helpful:

Human being are very much like icebergs — we only see a small portion of them, and nothing of the hidden currents which drag them this way and that.

I fancy we would not sit and judge our neighbor so frequently as we do, did we but ponder well over the small amount of data we possess.  We perceive only the external act, but nothing of the motive activating it.

— Fr. David McAstocker, SJ

Finally, over the years, I have found that there is one more leading question that never fails to get a response:  Is there anything you would like me to pray for? (Try it yourself and see what happens. And then, of course, we must follow through on what we hear.)

At the moment, I have a visible disability and a situation that people notice right away. That won’t always be the case.

Still, I’m praying for the grace to be more sensitive toward others, and less in a rush. I hope to remember that sometimes the worst hurts and pains are the ones we cannot see.

Copyright 2011 Pat Gohn

(It is a profound moment that we modern parents experience: the audio detection of a human heartbeat in the womb, let alone the video rendering of an unborn child via an ultrasound exam!)

A healthy pregnancy, eventually, yields a profound knowledge of the presence of another. We women who have been privileged to become biological mothers, especially, cannot deny when it begins to occur.

A woman is not alone in the mystery of a growing nascent life inside her body. Another heart beats within. Another’s blood is circulating. Another unique soul awaits something more.

We mothers come to know our biological children in a way that defies proper explanation.

This heartbeat and these first stirrings are an advent of that first encounter face to face. And we await the birth of this tiny one that we know somewhat dimly, and yet intimately.

In my imagination, on the night Jesus was born, I wonder if Mary nuzzled him close to hear his Sacred Heart beat. And as He grew, I wonder again, of the many times the Child Jesus drew close to his mother’s breast only to fall asleep to the rhythm of her heartbeat under his ear.

It is a holy and sublime thing – both within the context of marriage, or within the context of the parent-child relationship – to fall asleep close enough to another person to experience the peaceful beating of their heart… Yet all of us, regardless of circumstance, did precisely that, at one time, within our mother’s womb. We were not alone in that dark confine. Comfort came from the heartbeat and nourishment of another who submitted and committed their body and lifeblood to our wellbeing and protection.

Closeness. Heartbeat. Blood. Life. Relationship.

These are not just the proximities of maternity; they are the stuff of the once-invisible and inexpressible God entering our humanity and cleaving to us in ways unimaginable yet tangible.

It was, indeed, the start of something new… God who came as the Christ Child.  Immanuel, “God-with-us”, taking on human flesh (Is 7:14.)

And Mary gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger… (Lk 2: 7.)

Still, God had something more in mind. What started with Mary’s maternity had ramifications for all of us.

For one day, many years later, at the Passover, the Lord Jesus vivified the bread and wine that was at that table. Consecrating bread and wine, he gave it to his friends, with the admonition to “do this” in perpetuity. (Lk 22:19-20.)

More than a sign, the Eucharist is his true Body and Blood. (Jn 6:53-56)

It is a way that we might share in receiving him inside our very selves.

Do we dare contemplate this?  The heartbeat of the Holy One, the life of the Jesus himself – his Body, his Blood – inside our very being?

Yes.

For as Mary said yes in receiving him, so must we.  For He is the Truth, and the Life. And He made for us, a Way (Jn 14:6.)

Christ, who came to be God-with-us, came to love us: to baptize, forgive, heal, and to actually live inside us in a way that defies proper explanation in that it is transcendent.

And we have seen these transcendent moments before…

The Passover meal was God’s gift to the Jews to remind them of his intimate love, protection, and nourishment for them en route to their freedom from slavery to the Promised Land.

The Eucharist is the Savior’s gift to humanity to remind us of his intimate love, protection, and nourishment for us en route to freedom from sin and death to the promise of Heaven.

Finally, in receiving the Eucharist, we experience the closeness of Another – The Holy Other – God REAL and PRESENT with us and within us: His heart beating with ours…his holy blood pumping… his very life within us. It is the closest of relationships.

It is an invitation to draw ever nearer, this Christmas, to the One who loves us beyond our imaginations, tangibly.

It is the Advent of our meeting him… One Fine Day… “face to face” (1 Cor 13:12).

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

For me, one of the many beauties of the Incarnation is that the once-invisible God now becomes visible.  Jesus Christ was a man with a certain skin tone and eye color, who carried a physique with a certain cut and height. There was a specific timbre to his voice and a unique way he used his hands, both as a carpenter who built furniture, or a rabbi breaking bread. He was a traveling itinerant preacher – a man on the move with feet, and yes, toes.

For several years now, at the long-ago urging of my pastor, I make a weekly holy hour. Most Fridays you’ll find me down at the church were I am a regular adorer of the Blessed Sacrament.

I sit or kneel and face Jesus, present in the Host set within the monstrance that you see in the photo accompanying this article. And we talk. It’s my weekly “appointment with God”, very different in setting and activity than my attendance at Sunday Mass, or my daily prayers at home.

In this particular adoration chapel, directly above the monstrance, is a statue of the Risen Jesus, arms outstretched. Faithful to the biblical accounts ( Jn 20: 24-28), the wounds of Jesus’ crucifixion are still visible on his glorified body.  This depiction of his once-crucified feet extends low into my field of vision, inches away from the monstrance, as I concentrate on his True Presence in the Host.

And as I visit, the statue’s portrayal, and the Lord’s profound nearness in the Eucharist, is an ever-present reminder of “This is my body, which is given up for you (Lk 22:19).“

As I enter the chapel each week, my knees hit the floor and I bend low: My Lord and my God!

Not insignificantly, my Lord and my God has toes.

And I’m struck deeply by the delightful humanity of it all. The precious and weighty reality of the Incarnation becomes, remarkably, accessible. And in that moment of recognition, I find this God, who is undeniably wondrous and magnificent as the Creator of the Cosmos, all at once, very much lovable to my down-to-earth womanly sensibilities.

I have a God with toes. Isn’t THAT amazing?!

I meditate and my own mother’s heart begins to rev in high gear. I start to muse about the Babe of Bethlehem, born to Mother Mary and Joseph. I can picture the delightful scene … where natural motherlove kisses the feet of her newborn.  Oh yes! Kissing infant feet lavishes love from head to toe!

Of course, I’m only surmising here, but you get the picture… I can quickly recall my own joy in kissing and counting and adoring those “piggy toes” of my own three children.

But these toes that I find in the chapel, that were once treasured by a young mother, are now mature… and then I’m thinking of another woman.

I envision a woman who was once so transformed by love of this God-made-man – this God with toes – that she sought to lay herself and her burdens at his feet, kissing them and washing them with her tears and her hair. (Lk 7:37-38.) Her actions signal surrender, and a yielding to sublime love, tender and chastely passionate all at once.

In the next moment, my mind’s eye catches glimpses of those holy feet covered in dust and blood, bearing the weight of a crossbeam, marching relentlessly along the Via Dolorosa.  Later, executioners mercilessly pinned those same feet to the “tree” that would bear the fruit of new life for the world.

While Jesus was raised on that Cross, I contemplate that the only thing perhaps reachable to the hands of his mother who stood by ( Jn 19:25-27), were those lovable, aching, wounded feet.

Echoes of that long-ago day remain with me now in the memory and memorial of the Eucharist that is before me in this chapel.

And now it is my turn, woman that I am, to lean in and kiss the feet of Whom I love and want to know so well… the Son of Man (Mt 9:6) who removes all my sin and shame in the moment of such a kiss.

And all at once, I am all three: I am a mother-delighting, and a sinner-confessing, and a believer-rejoicing in the gift of these feet, even these toes…

The Incarnation brings me in touch with Jesus in beautiful ways, and my heart embraces the lyrical words of the prophet Isaiah to describe my fascination and my joy:

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him

who brings good tidings… peace,… good,… salvation,

who says to Zion, “Your God reigns (Is 52:7).“

Copyright 2010 Pat Gohn

On the occasion of your Confirmation I wish to offer the sage and time-honored advice of a saint.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church, teaching on the Sacrament of Confirmation, quotes St. Ambrose, a bishop and theologian from the 4^th century. His words are worthy of repeating here. My prayer for you, as your Godmother and Sponsor, would be that your reception of this important sacrament would mirror the words of St. Ambrose:

Recall then that you have received the spiritual seal, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of right judgment and courage, the spirit of knowledge and reverence, the spirit of holy fear in God’s presence.

Guard what you have received.

God the Father has marked you with his sign; Christ the Lord has confirmed you and has placed his pledge, the Spirit, in your hearts.

The grace of your Confirmation deepens the grace you received way back on your baptismal day.  It will have many effects. (See CCC 1303.)

Your Confirmation roots you more deeply as a son of God, and it strengthens your prayer to “Our Father”: The same Father in Heaven that you can call “Abba” as Jesus did, or “Daddy”.

Through your Confirmation, you will be more deeply joined to Christ, the Lord Jesus who loved you so much as to give up his life for you.  Remember that Jesus was called the Son of God, right?  By the gift of grace, in and through your baptism long ago, you were made a child of God too. Now your sonship is being taken to a new level.

In Confirmation, you, the beloved son, will give your own “yes” to God in and through your Profession of Faith (in the Creed.) And moments later receive the next measure of grace that Our Father wants to pour out on you.  You will be marked with a sign – the bishop will use holy oil to anoint your head. And as he does, God will anoint your soul with an indelible mark that can never be erased. You belong to Him.

The gifts of the Holy Spirit, that Ambrose talks about will not only strengthen your identity as a Catholic, it will give you new power to be a Christian – not in name only – but in word and deed. For the gifts of the Spirit empower you to be a witness for Christ in your family, among your peers, and wherever you go in the world.

My prayer is that you take St. Ambrose at his word and guard what you have received.

Whenever you feel that faith doesn’t matter, or it feels a little hard to live out, when you are tempted to doubt or give up, I want you to redouble your efforts and guard what you have received.

God has already provided you with the graces and strength of this sacrament to weather storms of doubt, confusion, frustration or heartache.  Call on God and rely on Him when these times come. And they will.

Guard what you have received.

Ambrose is a saint for a reason.  He gave up a successful and comfortable life as a lawyer and the governor of Milan to take up the role of being a bishop in the Lord’s service.  For years Ambrose fought heresy against his fellow Catholics – a very hard predicament! – and on other occasions he defended churches that were literally surrounded by enemy soldiers. Yet he never resorted to violence.

Ambrose fought for truth and against corruption in the culture of his day, standing up for God and ransoming Christians who suffered imprisonment. He used his intellectual gifts and his communication skills. He left a legacy of faith and reason and a life worthy of the calling he had received … always guarding what he had received from God, as something precious and worthy of giving one’s whole life.

Thomas, you will receive much more than will be visible at Confirmation. Trust God and stay close to him. He is very close to you.

With love, from your Godmother,

Auntie Pat

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

Originally posted at Today’s Catholic Woman at Catholic Exchange. Reprinted with permission.

Amidst making lists and schedules, designing lessons, fixing meals, getting supplies, shuttling children back and forth, doing homework, and establishing new routines in the endless dance of September mothering, let us be mindful of our greater calling beyond the tyranny of the September-to-June calendars.

Our goal as Christian parents points well beyond the academic education of our children: That of helping them to heaven. One of the ways we do this is by encouraging a sense of vocation.  And that means, encouraging not only “what” a child want to be when they grow up, but also “who”?

When we know the ultimate goal, we can take steps toward achieving on-going Christian formation in the lives of our children. In a broad sense, it is what successful business managers call “beginning with the end in mind.”  It’s also what spiritual directors have called having “an eternal perspective”.

So, as the new school year begins, it might be fruitful for us parents to wonder just how this coming year might shape the future Christian vocations of our children? Will this be a year that opens their heart more fully to God’s plan for their life?  No parent can predict a child’s future, of course. Yet a parent’s good example can provide an excellent foundation for a child to grow in the ability to hear God speaking to them about the ultimate path for their life.

To grow a sense of vocation, we must try to teach our children to love and to serve God and one another in a selfless manner.  And that’s not easy. It comes from years of example on the part of parents, and other loving adults in a child’s life. It also happens in practice by trial and error on the child’s part.

In serving others, a child comes to learn that “Love of God” and “Love of Neighbor” are intertwined. They cannot be separated from one another.  This is the foundation that any future vocation is built upon. It is the discovery that to love is to serve.

All strong vocations come from asking the question: “Whom are you going to serve?”  And having the response be: “God and others.” Strong vocations come about slowly… from years of dealing with our own tendency toward selfishness, and deciding to be generous and charitable in those moments, instead.

The Vatican Council fathers wisely surveyed the depth of human nature when it comes to finding one’s calling in life when they wrote “man… cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself. (See Gaudium et Spes, 24.) ”

Whether a child’s vocation is to marriage, or religious life, or the priesthood, or to a single life, the same universal call to love applies: in what way can will that child best make a sincere gift of himself or herself to another?  Or to Another (who is God)?

In a recent blog post, I wrote the following:

Vocations, whatever they may be, are all about the intersection of living a life of love and service both to God and to others.

In a pivotal scene from The Sound of Music, Maria, the impetuous postulant nun and star of the film, discloses her vocational “crisis” to the Reverend Mother: Maria, who once thought she would enter the convent and take permanent vows, now fears falling in love with a local widower and his children.

The wise Reverend Mother counsels, “Maria, the love between a man and a woman is holy, too… You must find out how God wants you to spend your love… you have to live the life you were born to live.”

You must find out how God wants you to spend your love. Therein lies a holy dilemma: choosing a fitting response to God who has first chosen to love us. God invites human persons to respond to him freely.  He does not coerce or force; he respects the dignity of the person.  But each person must find out for themselves how to best spend their love.

The point here is that, for our children, a religious vocation to the priesthood or religious life will never be considered if a child does not first hear it is a viable option for their life and love.  The same is true for the married life. A child will never consider the benefits of sacramental grace acquired through the Sacrament of Matrimony, or hold on to the sanctity of the home, if we do not show them the benefit of “the domestic church” in concrete ways.

A strong home life is a garden where vocations of all kinds grow. It will be years before the harvest is ready… but one day, it will be.

Here are few suggestions that may help shape a sense of vocation in your home. (These come from our own experience, and no doubt, you might have many others that I invite you to add in the Comments Box below):

• Give your child your unconditional love, and disclose their true identity in Christ. This is not always easy to do, if we ourselves struggle in these areas.  But we should strive. With words and actions tell your child that they mean everything to you.  But more than that – they mean everything to God.  Show them pictures from their baptism.  Tell them of the graces they have received from whatever sacraments they may have received.  Tell them that God has a special plan for their lives, and its unfolding even now, at whatever age they are!A very powerful way of communicating just how well a child is growing in Christ is to “catch them” in the act of “doing good”. Too often, we parents act as if we are traffic cops handing out citations for infractions of the home rules.  But compliments and appreciation for the good we see our children doing should be genuinely noted, and once in a while, rewarded.

• Foster the spiritual life in your home. Attend Sunday Mass as a family whenever possible. Take your children to the church: introduce them saints they see in the statues there, or in the stained glass.  If there is Eucharistic Adoration, make a short visit and teach them about Jesus being present in the Host. To be sure, teach them to reverence His Presence in the tabernacle.Offer routines of prayer through the day at meals, at rising or retiring. Be a prayer leader in your home, and slowly teach them to lead as well. Young children can start devotional lives that include praying the rosary with the family, reading saints’ biographies, and finding ways to celebrate Catholic life through the liturgical year. (There are many valuable suggestions found here at the CatholicMom.com website on enriching family devotional practices.)

• Teach “people” before “things”. One of the greatest cultural pressures our children face is the lack of respect for the dignity of human persons.  At all times, the moral development of our children must always respect people first.  A person’s needs always trump a person’s wants.Putting another person first will affect how we will spend our time, our money, and our love.  And yet it is the simplest way to show that sacrifices must be made on behalf of others.  A small child can be taught to share.  A teenager can be encouraged to tutor a younger student, or to serve a meal at a soup kitchen, or cut an elderly neighbor’s lawn for free. In each of these moments, one gives something up for the sake of another.

  Every time a child makes a sacrifice on behalf of another person, they are growing in virtue that will serve their ultimate vocation one day.

  Along the same lines of not over-valuing things, children need to learn about the value of money as tool, as well as detachment from it, and from possessions.  The point here is that some children are easily “owned” by their toys or possessions, or their personal bank accounts, rather than the other way around. As parents, we have to take decisive action to prevent our children from becoming addicted to pleasures of any kind, and teach them self-mastery of their time and their spending. These days, digital technology tools such a computers, cell phones, and video gaming must not monopolize a child’s time so much that it desensitizes them to the people around them.

• Introduce your children to strong married couples, as well as to priests and nuns. Pick up the phone and invite ‘em over!  Have a priest come by for coffee and dessert after dinner one night. Ask why they chose their vocation.  Or ask a married couple to tell their wedding story.  Invite a sister to come by, or ask if you can visit a convent, or share in their apostolate for a day.  Support a religious order or apostolate financially and share that mission with your children.

• For teens, find youth ministry options that offer a spiritual component. This is often harder than it looks.  During the teen years, it is vital that teens find points of connection with Christ and the Church in a personal way.  In our house, we’ve often had to look to other parishes, and even programs out of state, for our teens to take part in.  These might be Catholic retreat offerings, service projects, and religious conferences geared for teens.  It took effort, time, and money to support these projects, or to get involved as parents. But again, it’s part of on-going Christian formation.

• Do what you can to inspire a sense of beauty. This might be through love of the arts, music, literature, or through appreciation of the great outdoors … anything that builds a sense of heightened awareness that life is beautiful and joyous.  In our house, that meant years of painting classes, music lessons, and camping trips.  In your home it might be creative writing or drama groups.  There are so many options for families today. By cultivating a sense of the beautiful, and the kinds of moments that capture your child’s imagination can raise the spirit to seek the Ultimate Beauty: God.

This few suggestions are just scratching the surface of developing a sense of vocation in our children.  Again, kindly add your own thoughts below in the Comments Box.


©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

You start out with a clean coffee pot or coffee maker.

Add fresh water!

Carefully measure out the coffee beans and choose the preferred grind. Of course, the quality and richness of the beans is directly proportional to the flavor of the brew.

Get that water hot by whatever brewing method you select… percolator, drip coffee maker, French press…

Then let the transformation begin! The brewing process forces the water to pass through the grinds delivering the satisfaction of that first fresh cup of coffee.

Finally, add cream and sugar to taste.

Ahhh…

How much my life is like my morning cup of coffee.

(I’m often amazed how often God uses simple everyday moments like this to bring me closer to him. These moments help me clarify where and how my faith and life intersect and form a seamless connection.)

So back to coffee making.  And what, per chance, God is making of me.

The coffee maker is like my world, or my cultural milieu.  Its purity, cleanliness and integrity have an impact on the resulting brew.

The water is, well, my life.  Water is the stuff of life… made up of two basic elements, hydrogen and oxygen. In its liquid state, you cannot tell that water has these components. My human life is both body and soul.  I cannot separate the two. Whatever impact one, impacts the whole.  The water of my life is becoming something new as more is added to it.

The coffee grinds are the circumstances, or – pardon the pun – the “daily grind” of what my encounters and experiences. Recall, the quality of the beans determines the quality of my coffee’s taste.

Heat is applied to coffee making, yielding a slow-drip, transformative process of chemistry.  There is no change in me without the heat of challenges and the fire of the Holy Spirit mingling with my life and circumstances.

Finally, the coffee is poured and cream and sugar add flavor. What might these be, by analogy? For the Christian, I suggest that the cream is the smoothness of grace, and sugar is the sweetness of charity.  Both enhance the fullness of the taste of life.

This simple coffee analogy invites a few questions for reflection about the quality of our daily lives.  (I’m sure you could find others thoughts and ideas that apply to you.)

What is the condition of the world I am living in?  How much of its purity and goodness are within my care and influence?

How fresh is the water of my life?  Is it stagnant, distilled, or fresh?  Are there areas of body and soul that need to be cleansed, refreshed, or revitalized?

Are the circumstances of my life a premium blend?  Are the beans rich and robust? What is being added to my life? What is being subtracted?

What is within my control to improve the quality of my life?  What do I leave to God’s care?

What can or should be changed to improve life’s flavor?

What are the transformative agents of our life?  What’s the heat source?  What is the source of change?  What makes it all work?

Finally, these ideas:  What are we pouring ourselves into?

What do we add to the final brew?  Are we open to grace and life-giving love?

The fresh aroma of rich flavorful coffee is always alluring. It draws others to partake of it.  A bitter brew turns others away.  That pretty much sums up the Christian life too.

What’s perking in your life?

Psalm 34:8: O taste and see that the LORD is good!

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

But I am a singer because I have heard the music of my heart… and have “felt” my heart sing at the most amazing moments… when actually no sound was coming out of my lips. It’s like I hear music in myself.  And at times I cannot shut it off.

Perhaps you know what I mean.  Perhaps you too can hear music or feel it swell within you, even when there is no music playing.

In my younger mothering years I delighted in singing with children. Those were the days of fun songs like nursery rhymes, bible songs, lull-a-byes, campfire songs, and happy little ditties that filled the air.

My children would sing for the joy of singing, without fear or self-consciousness.

At some point in their development they would no longer sing out loud. Maybe someone discouraged them, or maybe they just absorbed the message from our “American Idol” culture, that we should not sing if we don’t have the gift.  Such thinking is epidemic: I have already confessed my own self-consciousness about singing, even at my “mature” age when I should “know better” than to be so intimidated by peers or culture.

So what am I getting at here?

It is that we are all made to sing.

I mean that.  I think we need to wrestle up the gumption to sing for all we are worth. Not to impress anyone. Not to put on a show.

But for God’s sake.  And our own.

Why?

Like I said, we were made for this. But what I am talking about is unlike the physiological DNA-driven gift of sweet vocal cords that some of us received at birth.

The words “sing” and “singing” appear in the Bible over 200 times, with over 60 mentions in the Psalms alone. (“Psalm” is another word for sacred song or hymn.)

Think about it: Human beings are the only creatures on the planet that can sing. The only other creatures in God’s great plan who sing are the angels.  (Does it help to know you have something in common with the angels?)

(Yes, granted, birds tweet and have “songs.” Even certain whales “sing” siren songs.  Indeed, much of creation “sings” within its instinctual and natural limits. But we humans sing beyond instinct. It is an act of the will and a motive of the heart. Each voice absolutely unique and recognizable to the Creator.)

Singing puts us in the moment. It engages us. Whether it’s the song that others have penned that we make our own… or the one written in our human heart.

Your song matters to God because you matter to God. Zephaniah 3: 17 paints a picture of a God who would sing over you:

The LORD, your God, is in your midst,
a warrior who gives victory;
he will rejoice over you with gladness,
he will renew you in his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.

A God who sings over us?  Not unlike a parent singing over a beloved child. Just as I have delighted in my children’s singing, God delights in hearing his children sing for the same reasons.

Now recall that baptism makes you a Child of God.  Knowledge of that identity will help you sing more if you’ve lost the urge.

Recall the songs of children: They sing the way God intended us to sing… Freely.

Psalm 100 illustrates this:

Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the lands!

Serve the LORD with gladness!

Come into his presence with singing!

Know that the LORD is God!

It is he that made us, and we are his.

Still debating as to whether you can lift your voice? Consider the language of Psalm 100: Why else would the psalmist mention a “joyful noise”?  Like the songs of creation, all of us are capable of raising “a joyful noise” to God!  Not just the great and the talented singers of this world. All of us are made to sing!

But there’s more:  the psalmist instructs us to “Come into his presence with singing!” There’s an exclamation point at the end of that line!

I have three thoughts regarding this instruction.

First, at the beginning of Mass, and especially appropriate on a Sunday, we begin the liturgy with a hymn.  We join our voices in song that is meant to be our prayer in unison; we come into God’s presence in the sanctuary with singing.  Even at Masses without formal music usually open with an antiphon.  The Mass itself is punctuated by periods of song. One example is the song that is the Santus (“Holy, Holy, Holy” is a song from the Book of Revelation. See Rev 4:8 ff.) The Mass also has moments of silence – where the song of the heart is sung.

Second, when we sing out of the fullness of our heart, (outside of Mass) in our daily life, we can come into the presence of God.  We can sing in the shower, in the car, or as we do our chores.  Wherever.

The other day I found myself humming along as I was working the mulch in the garden.  The rhythmic work I was doing just filled me with song.  And I became conscious of two things for the briefest of moments. First, my singing erupted spontaneously before I even became aware of it.  And second, when I took time to consider that I was singing in my heart, I had a precious revelation… my little song was an exercise of my being human, of being fully alive in the presence of the Lord even in my little task. Not only that, my tune was adding to the on-going joyful noise of creation… For somewhere beyond my hearing, the hymns of heaven’s angels are reveling in the presence of God. My singing was yet a small holy echo of heaven in my garden patch, because that song was within me.

Finally, I think our culture’s fascination (and dare I say deification?) of its famous singers proves the point: God made us to sing.

Today’s popular singers are doing something they were created to do.  Of course, many vocalists have not been exposed to the gospel. Self-centeredness or selfishness often clouds acknowledgement of God as the true source of the gift. Indeed, our culture spends too much time exalting the gift, instead of the giver.

I imagine, that for many of today’s music stars, their experience of singing makes them feel alive in a way that they cannot totally describe without pointing to something beyond explanation. That “something” is the divine spark of the soul. Singing is one of the many joys in life that is meant to bring us to God.

The simple idea is this: all truth, beauty and goodness reflects God in some way. It is how we recognize God’s fingerprint – his movement – in creation.

Truth, beauty, and goodness are the attributes of God. And when you find these things in music, your heart cannot help but overflow.  Such songs brings us into God’s presence. Even the silent songs of the heart do this.  (Clearly the reverse is true: Songs that deny truth, beauty and goodness, are also rejecting God, the source of those things.)

When singing aloud in public, you may still have doubts about your vocal skills as I do.  That’s performance anxiety to be sure.  But what’s important to recognize is that I have no anxiety when I sing in the kitchen, or in my car, or on a walk, or with children, or singing whatever comes to mind as I garden.

Find some place where you can sing, then sing.

After all, God is singing over us. So sing your own sacred psalm. Be it a joyful ditty with the kids, a beautiful song from a well-known singer, a hymn of sublime praise with a choir, or the singular hum of your own heart song.

“Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord is God.

It is he who made us, and we are His.”

The Lord beckons us to sing.  We are his. Singing reminds us of that.

So, sing something. Everyday.

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

I’m not quite sure how to explain it, yet. I’m still sorting it all out. But in a few weeks, my oldest son graduates from college, 500 miles from our home.  And his chosen path for work and grad school is out there, not back here.

What’s significant is that this is a healthy separation: the emancipation of a young man into the world.  And it is his idea, not ours. That is reason enough to be grateful.

Naturally, I could regale you with the kinds of classic mother-like thoughts that fall into the category of how-did-this-happen-when-I-wasn’t-looking? Or maybe wax nostalgic over all the blissful remember-whens of his childhood.  Oh sure, that bubbles up now and again.

But emotionally, I feel pretty ready for this. And actually, it surprises me. In the past, I’ve really struggled with separations; a common malady among extended families separated by many miles, especially when you wish it were otherwise.

The first bittersweet pangs of real adult-child separation came four years back when we drove home from moving him into his freshman dorm. (Okay, I wept openly for two full hours on the drive home. Fortunately, my calm reassuring husband was at the wheel.)  But when I went out to school to pick him up the following spring, my son was like a new man.  Or maybe, I just started to see him as one.

I realized, after that first year of his being away, that throughout my parenting life, my children are were almost always more ready for new experiences – and ready to grow up – several months ahead of when I “expected.” I was constantly in awe of them.

Maybe it’s a function of my own temperament and ability to adjust to change, but with this first son, I’ve learned the most about letting go.  And you know what?  He’s doing just fine.  And so am I. This truly is the lesson of the firstborn child: they mold us, too, whether we admit it or not.

I knew this time was coming, sometime. The family door was open to possibility that he would move back home after college to launch his grown-up life. But it this new direction became clear over the last few months as the grad school application went in, and there were dates for entry-level job interviews in out-of-state locations.

Sure, I continue to pray for him every day. We “talk” by phone and other electronic tethers. But it is not every day, and that it okay. You see, he is already pretty much on his own.

I do miss him. He was home for a short Easter visit, and there were “scheduled events” around which the more relaxed recreational conversations happened. But, yes, we were just settling in with him when it was time to pack him up and get him to the plane. That’s a perennial heartache when we have geographical separations from our loved ones… yet I’m even grateful for the heartache, for the love that it signifies.

So I guess I’m here to say to the mothers who ask me what this is like: I’ll let you know for sure in a few months. But for now, what’s strange is that it is not as scary as I thought it would be.  It all seems rather natural.  (Oh, I’m sure I’ll be keeping the Kleenex handy at the commencement exercises, and again when we unpack his things into the new apartment.)

But this is the natural part: what I know down deep is moving up from my heart and informing my consciousness – this is all part of God’s plan for this son.

Day by day, as our children grow, we parents stand up and point the way.  We hold hands as tiny feet learn to walk.  We are the first teachers and the first voices of conscience.  We strive to bring our children up in the Faith. Slowly, year by year, our children learn to walk on their own, in so many different ways.  Still more importantly, they really can learn to obey the voice that is heard from within their own heart. And we must revere what God may be telling them, where he might lead them. Eventually, we parents know that this is, truly, what they have prayed for all along.

There’s a few verses from the Prophet Isaiah that keep ringing in my ears… reminding me of God’s promise of his faithful guiding presence. It is my prayer as I look forward with joy for God’s will in my son’s life and my own.

The LORD is waiting to show you favor… blessed are all who wait for him!

O people of Zion, who dwell in Jerusalem, no more will you weep; He will be gracious to you when you cry out, as soon as he hears he will answer you. The Lord will give you the bread you need and the water for which you thirst.

No longer will your Teacher hide himself, but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher, while from behind, a voice shall sound in your ears: “This is the way; walk in it,” when you would turn to the right or to the left. (Isaiah 30: 18-21.)

Amen.

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

For years, I was married to a frequent flyer.  Truthfully, it was not something I enjoyed. Mostly it was something I endured.  But I did learn a few things from those years that may help other spouses deal with habitual business travel as I did.

Before he would leave, I always stood on “our step” – the one that brings my shorter height more in line with his lips – and gave him a kiss worth remembering.  The kind that would make our kids blush when they were little… a G-rated public display of affection, but enough to get the point across.  The kind that says I’ll be missing you and I’ll be right here when you get back.

Then came my traditional “wave” from the front door as he droves away.  I would take a deep breath as I would say a little prayer. This aspect of his career life was, at the least, a necessary inconvenience and, at the worse, a hardship we bore.

Here are 10 ideas, in random order, that have helped us deal with the separation both as a couple and as a family.

ONE: Keep tabs on each other.

Decide in advance when you will or won’t call each other and make this a priority as far as possible.  Texting is okay, and email is nice, but live voice contact person-to-person is what stirs the heart, and keeps relationships intact.

Before my husband would leave, depending on his destination, we would decide on what times were feasible when I could expect a call, or when it would be good to call him.  We usually settled on a nighttime call for me, at the end of our days when he was back at his hotel and we both could unwind.  (Naturally, this varied depending on time zones. Sometimes he and I would have to set alarms on watches, phones, or elsewhere as little prompts to help us keep the time zones in sync.)

When my children were little, my husband made it a priority to have a once-a-day phone conversation with them sometime within the two-hour window before their bedtime.  This often required some scheduling heroics on the part of my husband depending on his time zone as it intersected ours.  If time was really tight on my husband’s end, rather than play pass-the-phone with each little child, we opted for using a speakerphone. Then we interrupted whatever we were doing to have a family chat with Dad.  These days, families make use of internet technologies like voice- and video-over-IP chats via their computers.

He would review the day with each of them and talk to them about the people and places he was visiting.  Sometimes we’d find a map and let the children find he location.

Every call always ended with sufficient “I love you’s” and similar affirmations.

As my children grew into teenagers, these calls to my children became easier; Dad could call them directly on their own phones or text and vice-versa.

TWO: Keep him close in your heart.

Besides phone calls, I always keep my husband’s photo in my workspace in the kitchen and in the office.  And if I’m at home, I keep one of his jackets or sweaters by the front door.  I like seeing it there as I come and go, and sometimes I would even wear it outside if I was going to run an errand or join the children outside or walk the dog.  Or I’d play music that would remind me of him, or write him a letter to send while he was away, or to tuck into his suitcase on the next trip, or under his pillow when he returned.

And, I would pray for him… for his protection, for his success in his business, and for fortitude in the lonely moments while being on the road.

THREE: Keep his travel itinerary on hand for your sake and for his.

It goes without saying that if you have an emergency at home while your spouse travels, you’ll want to be in contact with him. For the sake of emergencies, always make sure you have your spouse’s full itinerary, complete with hotel, airline, and work-related phone numbers at the ready. You never know when you are going to need it.  Keep it in your purse or near the phone. Tell your older children where this information is as well.

Have more than one phone number to contact your spouse such as their administrative assistant, boss, or traveling companions. Keep handy his corporate travel agency contact or online booking service.

For your traveler, it’s important not to become overly reliant on cell phones and other mobile devices.  They can malfunction, or get lost or stolen. Not to mention batteries die, internet connections break down, and public phones are getting scarce.

There have been times when my husband was in a remote region of a country where the internet went down. He needed me to call his travel agent because his travel needs were changing by the hour, and he could not get through by phone or internet. Fortunately, I could help him out from home.

Another time he was on a plane that had to make an emergency landing at a different airport than its original destination. Such an event causes pandemonium at an airport for hours. Grateful as we were for his safety, he still was in the aftermath of the event and he needed me to alert his boss of his delay while he figured out how his was going to continue his travel, as well as recharge his blackberry.

FOUR: Be resourceful.

Naturally, emergencies related directly to the people in your family need to be communicated as soon as possible with your spouse: a death in the family, a sudden medical emergency, a severe car accident, etc.

My rule of thumb is always “people before things.”  Therefore, emergencies related to people in our family, I always communicate with my husband as soon as possible. But depending on severity, as far as possible, emergencies related to things, such as home or car or finances, I try to see what I can work out before calling my husband who is away from home.

Just because I have a cell phone doesn’t mean I have to use it for every little problem that comes up in my day. That would only add stress to my husband’s day, when often he is not in a position to help. If he calls me during the day, I’ll update him, or maybe send him an email about something that’s “brewing”… but I try to take things in stride, and see what I can do to remedy the situation.

This means that as far as possible, I am knowledgeable about our house, car, and finances. If I cannot fix a problem myself, I have a list of service providers that I can call in to help, or at least get an estimate while I’m waiting to discuss the problem with my husband. Between trips, I often had conversations with my husband about where he would like me to get help before a problem arose.

With that said, I always keep some extra cash on hand.

FIVE:  You don’t always have to go it alone.

This really applied to life with small children when daily routines are both helpful, but at times, tedious.  When I was a stay-at-home mother with small children for long stretches of business travel, I needed an adult break once in a while, even if I never left the house.

During the week, I would plan for a friend to come by at night for coffee and dessert. Or if my children’s needs allowed, I planned a lunch date out during the week.  Visiting with another adult helped those weeks pass by, plus allowed me some time to catch up with friends.

At times, teaming up with another friend who had a traveling husband, or inviting a single mother and her kids over for supper helped both of us cure loneliness that can creep up.

SIX: Do something out of the ordinary.

While routines are great in the family home, doing something silly or different can have a happy result and make happy memories even while Daddy is on the road. (Plus it will give the kids something to talk to Dad about on the phone!)

Simplify meals: Have breakfast food for dinner.  Picnic in the living room.  Eat dessert first. Let the kids plan and “cook” a meal as appropriate.

Camp out: Get out sleeping bags, or set up “camp” in the living room with candles and flashlights. Make popcorn or a special dessert while playing games together. Mom gets the couch. Kiddies get the floor. (A good option on weekends, not on school nights.)

Have a field trip: Take a mystery ride and don’t tell the children where they are going. Get to the zoo, a museum or a local historical site, a lake or the beach, or over to Grandma’s house.  It doesn’t matter where, just that you go and that it is fun for you and for them.

Seven: Learn to enjoy solitude.

Admittedly, this is a lost discipline in our high-powered multi-tasking culture.  Creating space to think and breathe and create is often hard to come by.

When my husband traveled, I had some “space” open up for me after the children went to bed.  And even when they were teens, their evening schedules often included homework or jobs.  I could often carve out a few hours each week after dinner, during my husband’s business travel, to pray quietly, to read a book, to watch a chick-flick he might not care for, or to pursue my writing craft or musical composition.

While enjoying social networking or reading some blogs might be fun for some people, I’ve found for renewal of mind and heart, often doing something creative brings more dividends that than just being passively engaged.

Eight: Plan a date with your spouse.

This is a sure-fire way to beat the blues that come from being separated from the one you love. I recommend the date being within a few days of his return. It can be simple and inexpensive, but it will be something both of you can look forward to.

Don’t begrudge the expense of a babysitter. You both deserve it. If you must be frugal in your budget, it might be time to add a line item of babysitting to your budget and work toward making it a reality.  Then you can plan and not feel guilty about the expense, and enjoy the process of planning the date.  For a few lean years, I traded babysitting time with a good girlfriend who had the same need. The benefit was that she was someone who knew my children and my house, and I could really relax when she was there.

Planning the date for a few days after his return allows him to restore from his travel.  My husband usually needs a day or two to recover from the fatigue associated with business travel, time zone changes, and meals on the road. Besides, he’s more fun on a date when he’s refreshed.

However, I will tell you one story that does not fit that mold. Sometimes business travel interferes with birthdays, anniversaries and similar special occasions, no matter how carefully we plan around them. Weather delays, airport traffic, it all can wreak havoc on a family calendar. After a flurry of incidences like that, I boldly planned a super date since I had the budget.  My special occasion date had a co-conspirator in a friend who took my children for a night. I arrived at the airport in my best dress and picked up my weary traveler.  After greeting him, I told him we had a dinner reservation at a restaurant we both liked. When the check came, I slipped a hotel room key in with the change.  I don’t recall fatigue being an issue on that date.

Nine: Make “coming home” pleasant and welcoming.

The space shuttle and other spacecraft experienced a certain amount of heat-shield loss upon re-entry of the earth’s atmosphere. In a way, this can happen to us humans as well. Business travel is not all that glamorous. It takes a lot of mental and physical energy to be “on” all the time. Coming home should be sweet, refreshing, and welcomed.

When children are small, make Daddy’s arrival back into the clan a true homecoming… and enjoy their excitement in welcoming him back.  But then, try to make minimum demands on him the first few hours home. For me, this meant making sure the living room and the master bedroom was tidy and a place to relax. It didn’t often matter if the rest of the house was a bit chaotic.  But giving my husband a chance to change out of work mode to home mode was key.

Honestly it often took great self-control on my part to not overwhelm him with my own immediate needs; like my need to talk to another adult, or have him fix the screen in the back door again. There would be time for all of that. For now, the emphasis is on welcome and hospitality. And gratitude.

TEN: Pray.

Pray for each other while you are apart for one another.  Pray for the children.  I already alluded to this above.

It is often helpful, when dealing with your own struggles during business travel separations to pray for others who deal with separation.

Through the years, I prayed for families who have loved ones in the military or government security agencies. These families live through deployments, often without knowledge of their loved one’s whereabouts.  I’ve really come to appreciate the depth of personal sacrifice these families are making to support a loved one in deployment.

I’ve prayed for families who are separated by long hospitalizations, or treatments that take them to distant cities in search of a cure. As a cancer survivor, I’ve met so many people who have travelled from afar to receive medical care in the fine hospital where I was treated.  I was so fortunate to have such care near my home.

I’ve prayed for families separated by incarcerations, natural disasters, or war.

Most of all, I found myself praying for single parents. And my gratitude for my own situation would swell. For I knew the date and time that my spouse would come home and my solitariness would come to an end.

Finally, I’ll admit that if I could end all this business travel for us, I would. Yes, we’ve had the benefit of frequent flyer miles for personal travel now and again.  Its still not worth the trade off.

Copyright 2010 Pat Gohn

Throughout my growing up years I was chief hearth tender and log-splitter. (Not having any brothers, my father taught us gals how to chop wood with a wedge and a sledge. Just recently my younger sister and I were laughing about our prowess with a sledgehammer and a long-handled axe. Ah yes, we were formidable women in our day!)

Last week I tended a fire amidst yet another New England snowfall. The simple act of fire tending caught me by surprise. There, as I knelt on the step of the open hearth, surprisingly, it felt to be about the height of a church kneeler. A simply thought occurred to me… what if I treated my prayer life with the respect I tended the fireplace? There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

Kneeling as if on a prie dieu, I placed one hand on the warm bricks in front of me while my other hand grabbed a new log from the bin. I leaned into the radiating warmth of the fire as I slowly took the poker to arrange the logs, ensuring each one catches. There’s nothing haphazard about my technique, I know just where to place a log so it will be fully consumed.

A successful and continuous fire is one part method and one part raw materials.

First, long before I strike the first match, I open the damper and clear away the old ashes that have piled up around and under the grate. The flow of oxygen is needed to keep the coals burning… a fire can be snuffed from the inside out if there is no room around the grate for an oxygen supply to heat the inner flame.

Similarly, for a strong prayer life, I first need to open my mind and heart to the idea of prayer and open my consciousness to God’s presence. Secondly, I need to have regular confession and reconciliation to clear away the “old ashes” of sin and bad habits. Openness and clearing away negative debris prepares the hearth for a blaze. The same happens in our hearts. We must prepare a place where the embers can burn with a holy passion.

Once I’ve got the fireplace clean and open, dry tinder and kindling must be laid… we need fuel for the spark to catch fire.

In prayer, we’ve got to lay down dry tinder and kindling. It’s about focus. Sometimes it requires some creating a space for prayer, both mentally and physically. Limiting noise, minimizing distractions, and sitting or kneeling in a comfortable posture allow preparation to settle into prayer.

It’s also about bending my will… choosing to go to prayer, and offering myself in that time, really, is a discipline.

We finally strike the match when we choose to utter a prayer, and we choose to talk to God and listen to him. Like dry tinder we “catch” the flame of the Spirit.

As we experience the warmth of this flame, we might choose to add more fuel… just as a well-placed log builds the blaze. Likewise, as our prayer continues, perhaps we’ll meditate on the mysteries of the Rosary, or the Divine Mercy chaplet, or pray the Scriptures with Lectio Divina, or attend Mass. These are holy additions to the fire of prayer, hefty “logs” that keep us burning, and radiating with the love of God.

What’s more, keeping prayer alive in our hearts ignites our desire to seek and know the face of him who IS the Sacred Heart aflame, the Fire Tender. And that’s where a shift occurs. Its no longer about what we are doing in prayer; it is what He is doing with us.

Suddenly we discover that this whole process of spiritual fire tending is not at all about keeping a respectful distance from the flames, but about building bigger bonfires that acclimate us to holy heat. That we may enter into the purifying heartfire of Jesus Christ, surrendering the wood that we are to his all-consuming love.

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth! Amen.

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn

“All I know about tomorrow is that God’s providence will rise before the sun.”

—Fr. Jean Baptiste Henri Lacordaire, OP

This story has a happy ending: After 16 months of praying and diligently seeking for one, my hubby began a new fulltime job this week, following 13 months of unemployment. We are most grateful and we are thanking God for his providence. Every day.

At the close of summer 2008, the US economy tanked and we were launching our second child into college. It became clear that my husband would soon lose his job in a matter of weeks.  With over 25 years experience in technology, hubby had never been let go by a company before. He always managed to manage his career with confidence and competency, like a boy stepping happily from stone to stone across a brook. Now that next step seemed a mystery as so many businesses were sinking fast.

Meanwhile, I was already unemployed, recovering from hip replacement surgery. Having recently earned my Masters Degree in theology, I had delayed my next job search until after my recuperation period. (Not exactly the best time to seek a salaried position in belt-tightening churches.)

On December 5, 2008, hubby exited his Boston employer and made the long slow commute home. He would be home for some time to come… but for us, it would be a momentary blessing, as so much of his employment history had mandated numerous weeks of business travel each year.

Hubby came home with a modest severance package that he added to our savings account… the one we had built up for the college years and for “the rainy days”. Having that umbrella, we were in better shape than most of the unemployed people we already knew. We just had no idea how long the rainy season would last.

We were already three years along into our “paying-for-college” schedule, accustomed to living frugally, yet not austerely. We would gear down even more.

Never a slacker, hubby got right to the work of finding work. And, those of you who have been there know that finding work is, indeed, work.  Countless phone calls, resume rewrites, networking breakfasts-lunches-drinks, support groups, emails, and following up on leads ensued month after month. It’s a fulltime job in itself.

In 13 months, Hubby had numerous nibbles, a few promising “almosts”, but no bites.

It takes faith mixed with fortitude to keep looking and stay optimistic when the job search is fruitless. The downward trending national unemployment figures make you realize that you are not alone, but they are no comfort for the emotions. When three months turns to six months of unemployment, you begin to wonder just how far things will have to stretch. Not to mention what you fear you will feel at 12 months.

Once my hip was healed, employment in my field of choice was not looking promising either. If you think finding work in the business world is slow, try finding it in a church or Catholic organization in a poor economy.

In the last year, I came across only four fulltime positions that I was qualified to apply.  I did not apply to the first job listing, as it would require a commute of two hours each way. Surely, I thought, something closer to home could be found. The second one, very nearby, would mean I would have to give up seeing my family every weekend, a very rough trade-off for a mother with a teenager alone in the house. The third one never answered my inquiry, despite my follow up. The fourth one really was a lark, and it flew away, though the potential employer was most kind in the process.

What did we do in the meantime as we continued these job hunts?  You mean, besides praying every day, and asking everyone we know to do the same?

Well, under the category of keeping faith, you could list daily prayer as a must. Plus keeping active in local parish ministries allowed us to give of ourselves in constructive ways.

But besides those basics, we decided it is better to do meaningful work that gave delight to the heart, while working at whatever part-time paying endeavors we could find.

Hubby paid some bills by finding occasional short-term consulting contracts. But meaningful work for him took the form of pulling the tarpaulin off his rusting MGB out in the yard. Taking over most of the garage, he hunted down used parts online and began the slow process of restoring the ’77 British convertible, the fifth MG in our marriage.

Investing in the MG might have seemed frivolous to some, given our tenuous financial circumstances. And yes, it has cost a few bucks. But the money spent in MG restoration came from selling another vehicle, so it was a trade-off.

I consider it to be the priceless “therapy” of meaningful work: keeping a smile on my hubby’s face as he faced continuing un- and underemployment and ongoing rejections.

The little car is metaphoric: sometimes you can’t see how things are going to work out, but you keep at it, doing your part, using the tools and whatever pieces you have on hand. You keep faith that the thing will turn over someday. You pray and work.

For me, meaningful work meant I continued, as I have for years, to write niche articles at Catholic web portals and elsewhere, looking to plant seeds for the new evangelization that the late great John Paul II prophesized. Writing articles does not pay our mortgage or the college tuitions; it never has. But hubby encouraged me to continue in this curious ministry of encouragement, information, and values-centered entertainment.

I also began producing and hosting a Catholic podcast for women. It doesn’t generate any income, but it is creative work for the writer and former radio broadcaster that I am. The “Among Women” podcast allows me to participate in a one-to-one faith-sharing ministry with Catholic women around the world – something I have long enjoyed on the parish level. Not only that, it has stretched my own technology muscles. Today, I am less afraid of traversing the vast digital frontier that comes with the new evangelization’s terrain.

An unexpected benefit to my technology investment is that it has eased me back into the voice-over and production market in a meaningful way after years of hiatus. And while it is not a church ministry position, it is another part-time revenue stream. And every little bit helps.

Now and again, I speak in person at local churches doing adult education, retreats, or whatever is needed. Ultimately, it’s the content of the Catechism of the Catholic Church that I want to teach, but I’ve got other ideas too. But it all boils down to that. That’s where my passion lies.

I learned what I learned in theology in order to give it away. Not to keep it locked up in my brain or in my library.

So I’ll continue to write and produce and teach as the Lord sees fit to use me. I guess you could say that in some ways, I am already doing what I was trained for. It’s just that my expectation of it does not fit the traditional model of faith formation that I had in my mind. Yet, astonishingly, thanks to Catholic websites, my writing and podcasting is reaching more people with Catholic content than I might ever meet face to face in one parish.

And yet, while digital media is exciting, I can only pray and hope that good Catholic content online will draw people “home” to their local parish churches. For, truly, the parish is the place of first-person encounters both with Jesus and with one another.

At Thanksgiving, after 12 months of unemployment, we were still digging in prayerfully and emotionally. But honestly, it was getting tougher to stay optimistic. Another 6 months of unemployment and we would be in crisis mode.

The “less is more” paradox was certainly coming into play. We’ve had to give up some material things, yet we exchanged them for much perspective along the way. Still, we count ourselves fortunate compared to countless families who have suffered so much more in this struggling economy.

Christmas came and went with minimum outlays. Our family embraced the joy of little things. We toasted God’s providence at Christmas dinner, for a second year in a row, and the part-time jobs that each family member had.

It was strange when the new job offer came. A few days before it did, hubby told me he had a sense someone might offer him a job soon. Turns out it he was right.  The offer resulted from one of the consulting projects he had done in recent months.

And so, he started his new employment this week. And again, we are very grateful.

Our story is not one of extreme hardship, deprivation, or devastation.  It is just about keeping faith, and a little about saving when the times are good and hunkering down when the times are bad. God’s providence for our family included the stewardship plan to put those savings away when we did. Some people call it self-sufficiency. We know better. God supplies all our needs. (See 2 Cor 9:6-15 and Phil 4:19.)

St. Paul said best: “For I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content… in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want. I can do all things in him who strengthens me (Phil 4: 11-13).”

We will continue to be on a tight budget, but somehow, the breathing seems easier. We are still working out our healthcare and insurance costs. And, naturally, it will take a very long time to rebuild the savings we have lived on. We recently calculated that as of now, we are at the halfway point of seeing our three through college.  And for that we are grateful, too.

Hubby’s new job will keep us afloat as I continue to stay open to what God’s will is for my fulltime employment. Lately, I think God wants me to just keep that posture of openness, and to keep stoking the flames of my part-time pursuits. From my mother’s perspective, there’s still one more son at home who will launch into college next year. And my extended family has needs that must be tended.

The MG is not yet on the road. Like our lives, it is a work in progress. Now that hubby is back working fulltime, the MG may return to hobby status, but perhaps when the New England snow melts, it’ll be ready for a test drive.

In the meanwhile, hubby and I will share the same home office space. Most of his new work will be from home, with travel as needed. There’s no more “his” space or “her” space. (Good thing that we really do get along!)

There are positives and negatives in working from home. Prayer and a strict calendar will help to keep it balanced. And, I expect, occasional escapes-to-come in a certain little two-seater ragtop.

As a couple we’ll endure fewer goodbyes demanded by business travel as we have for so many years. For now our lives will remain intertwined daily, as they have been during this long employment search.  And, frankly, that is a luxury I could get used to.

And that’s God’s providence too.

©2010 Patricia W. Gohn