It started when I was backing out of the driveway to run an errand with my daughter, and we noticed our 8-year-old under the large evergreen tree in front of our house, his abandoned bike lying on its side nearby.

“What’s going on?” I asked him after rolling down the window.

“Oh, there’s a baby bird here dying,” he said sadly.

He wasn’t doing anything rash. Just keeping vigil, you could say. It was the sweetest, saddest picture of one of God’s creatures looking after another.

It was enough, too, to have us stop the van to go take a peek. Sure enough, there was a fuzzy baby bird, struggling for life. It had been injured, and it was suffering. It opened its beak as if to ask for food, beg for help. We didn’t know what to do, what would be right. We noticed its bleeding leg. We felt utterly helpless.

The bird had some pine needles stabbing its tender skin. We pulled them out, and ran inside to find a box. A few minutes later, I emerged with one, and asked the kids to gather some grass. We knew we couldn’t probably save the little bird, but at the very least, we could offer it a soft, final resting place. Our little guy remained with the bird while we left to do our errand.

Later on, the kids discovered another young bird in the back yard. This one had already died. My daughter found another box, and carefully, with a paper towel, placed the bird inside. She found some tiny purple flowers and sprinkled the bird with them.

At nightfall, we went out to check on the first bird in the front, and found that the life had passed from it. There in the dark with the flashlight shining, we shed a few gentle tears for the bird, realizing it had indeed perished. The color had gone out of it. Its labored breathing had stopped.

Yes, I know it’s “just a bird,” but I’ve always been deeply affected by death of any kind. The loss of anything living — except perhaps a hungry mosquito — has never been something I could pass by easily. I didn’t want to bypass these events, either, nor did I want to belittle the sadness my children were feeling. So I joined them, honored their feelings, experienced the sadness of something passing from this world all over again.

What is it that compels us to our knees even when the dying thing is “just a bird?”

There is a sacredness in being among the living. All creatures of our God and king have a place, a reason for being here, and all come from the Creator and are part of His living masterpiece. To have one creature plucked from the picture feels tragic, not right.

A few hours before we’d discovered my son tending to the baby bird on the verge of death, my older daughter and I had joined some friends praying at our state’s only abortion facility. Quickly, I note the parallel. Just as I’d run to the shade of the evergreen tree to honor the dying baby bird, so, too, I’d run to be with others praying for the human babies who are perishing at that facility, and their human mothers who are also experiencing a death, no doubt, having felt forced to make a tragic, counter-natural decision to end the life within them.

Life is precious. We stop for dying things because we know this inherently and feel moved to honor life when it finds itself at the threshold between the living and the dead.

Sometimes, we can take action to save a life. Other times, all we can do is hold vigil and let God take care of the rest.

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

Since I was leaving, and on a timeline, I called my daughter and had her run out to inspect what looked to be a well-formed nest, toppled over now, lying in my van’s path of the driveway. I hoped it was empty, and she confirmed that it was before carefully setting it on the front steps for later.

When later came, I bent down to get a closer look, and indeed, it looked to be an abandoned nest.

What the Nest Taught Me

What had caused the birds to leave? Had its babies grown and flown? Or had something else prompt an urgent relocation — perhaps the loudness of our household bursting through the front doors to take in the long-awaited spring weather?

I may never know. What I do know is that while nests have always been something of a curiosity to me, this one struck me in a new way. Perhaps because it seemed so fresh, I couldn’t help but think of the little creatures who’d fashioned such a vessel, this twigged crater meant to harbor new life.

Some of the twigs were brown; others, newer, greener. It was splendid, really, this thing from nature that looked so refined.

When I posted a photo of the nest on Facebook, a friend commented: “I’m always fascinated by birds’ nests, especially the smaller birds – hummingbird nests are beautiful and awe-inspiring! I wouldn’t even know how to begin to fashion all these twigs and threads into a home, but all of these little bird-brains know exactly what to do. They’re a testament to persistence! Thanks for sharing a wonderful reminder of life.”

“I agree,” I wrote back. “To think that they did this twig by twig, feather by feather, beak to grass blade. I agree that the bird-brains might have something on us, by their work ethic and tenacity! And all for the preservation of the bird species. Nature is fascinating if we take time to regard it. I’ll admit, I don’t always, but then one fine day a nest falls onto my path, and I must stop and admire.”

Later, I reflected on that theme of persistence and how it relates to the faith life. We don’t always know where we’re heading, do we? Well, we know the destination, but it’s hard to see sometimes what exactly we’re doing as we fashion our world, detail by detail, sometimes almost as if by rote, and definitely by some compulsion we sense but can’t completely wrap our “bird brains” around.

Being a city girl, I don’t have a millions chances to sit and reflect on nature, and yet whenever I do, it seems nature always teaches me a little something about my relationship with God.

What the birds have told me this week, through revealing their nest (whether they wanted to or not) is that I must keep going, keep bringing in each offering of love, one by one, step by step, even when I can’t see the beautiful thing that is going to result; the lovely life-giving thing that will harbor something — maybe a hurting soul, maybe a grieving heart.

Someday, we’ll all experience a forced exit. We cannot cling to this life or our work forever. But as long as we’re given this day, this vantage point, these tools, and whatever insight with which we’ve been blessed, we must do this work, and if God really resides in our heart, perhaps sing a little song while we go, minute by minute, dedicating ourselves to that beautiful thing that urgently demands our time and attention: life and what we’re here to do.

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

Words do hurt, and lately, I’ve being hearing one word in particular being flung around wildly in a way that stings unfairly: bigot.

I live just across the river from Minnesota, where marriage recently was redefined. Rather than marriage being a union between a man and woman (and any children born from that union), a child-centric institution, Minnesota has now made it, legally anyway, a genderless, adult-centric union, becoming the 12th state to do so.

The news had barely hit the press when I began seeing the word “bigot” on my Facebook news feed, posted by those who supported the change, referencing anyone who had not supported it.

Some harsh things are happening surrounding this issue and I find it very disturbing.

Just last month, I read with alarm an article on LifeSiteNews.com about a priest in Belgium who supports traditional marriage and came under attack by a group of gay activists. The women had barged into a meeting he was leading and shouted curses at him while dousing him with water.

I’m concerned about these actions, which are the result as I see it of a misunderstanding regarding what those who oppose a redefinition are really saying.

I’m not sure when it happened exactly, but somewhere along the line, it became “truth” that when someone opposes something, it means they hate anyone associated with the thing they oppose.

In the case of a redefinition of marriage, based on everything I’ve heard from those with whom I’ve spoken who oppose redefining marriage, there is no absence of love toward everyone involved — children, families, and even people with same-sex attraction who desire to love and be loved. But they are deeply concerned about the implications of redefining this bedrock societal institution, and believe it will hurt families and children.

As I’ve watched this discussion happen, it appears to me that each side is speaking a completely different language. It’s easy to see how a word like “bigot” might crop up given the misunderstanding that hate is involved, but it’s a tragic misapplication and misunderstanding. I’m disturbed because “bigot” has an awfully strong implication. “Obstinance,” “intolerance” and “hatred” are some of the words linked with its definition. And in some ways, it seems, using this word without understanding the true intent of the target is actually perpetuating an attitude of bigotry in reverse.

I’m not going to argue the definition of marriage in this post. That can be for another time. I’m just very troubled right now by the venom I am seeing spewed throughout social media surrounding this topic, all based on a misunderstood base. As a result, we are losing touch with love; hate between friends is becoming commonplace. That’s a problem, because no world can thrive when that happens.

Unfortunately, I don’t see the problem diminishing anytime soon. In fact, I see the opposite in place — an escalation. In the meantime, we must pray long and hard and not lose sight of the God of love whom we serve. When wrongly placed, hurtful accusations come at us, we must not succumb and return the same in kind.

We need to keep looking to the cross, remembering the words, “Father, they know not what they do.” It is a heavy load and becoming more so by the day, but Jesus showed us what was possible through perseverance, and we owe him our best attempt at humility and love.

According to a Catholic News Agency article, Bishop Paul D. Sirba of Duluth, Minn., lamented recently that “this debate has often been used as an occasion to sow mistrust and doubt, as if followers of the God who is Love, and whose love for all people we proclaim each day as the Body of Christ, are acting instead out of some sort of ill will.”

He stressed the need to continue in charitable defense of truth.

Someday, harmony will be restored. Trust in that, and until then, continue serving God in truth and love.

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

Not email, but the snail-mail variety — old school. The envelope was hidden among the pile of mostly junk, and since it bore the return label of our kids’ school network, Blessed JPII Catholic Schools, I figured it was yet another notice of lunch money due, a report card reported, or a meeting mentioned.

But when I opened it, I found something that took my breath away — my father’s name.

Robert Beauclair, the man who helped bring me into this world and taught me how to fish and write.

The memorial came from a teacher of my daughter’s and his wife; money had been donated to the school in honor of my father, who left us Jan. 11 of this year.

They didn’t know my father. He lived three hours away and stayed close to home these past years as he suffered through the effects of diabetes. They likely didn’t know he’d been reared on Catholic schools, and how his vivid recollections of those days with the nuns had made me wish, as a younger parent, that our kids could experience the blessing of learning in a faith environment, too.

Dad would have been touched knowing someone had thought of his grandchildren enough to donate money to their school and their Catholic education on his behalf, even though the donor and honoree had never met.

As I read the card in the minivan at school pick-up time, the tears began to flow. And in that moment of profound gratitude mixed with joy and some sorrow, too, the thought occurred to me: this is the Church.

The Church isn’t what we see and hear in visual sound bites on the evening news. It isn’t even the beautiful buildings in Rome, nor the astounding art housed within them — good things in their own right that point us to the divine. The real heart of the Church is the Holy Spirit working through its people.

This doesn’t just happen. We aren’t inclined, as human beings, toward generosity. Something must prompt us to reach out in love to a stranger, and that something must be so strong, so compelling, that it would nudge us to think of someone we’ve never even met, and not only that but respond in love.

Before losing my dad, I’d read of money donated on behalf of so-and-so to thus-and-thus organization, and I didn’t really understand it. But I get it now. It’s a big, big deal to honor the dead in this way, and in so doing, to love the living. Because I know this gift, though in his name, wasn’t just for my father but for those younger ones who exist in part because Dad helped give me life. It was borne out of hope and love — two things the Church does very well despite what the world says.

We get so caught up in the negativity of the world and the Church’s necessary response that it’s easy to forget the essence of who we are, our common source, and how our fellow brothers and sisters, people of God all, are spreading light to one another one card, one hug, one simple word at a time.

Perhaps I need to make this a regular offering. Consider this, then, the first installment of, “This is the Church.” If you have examples of how the Church has brought life to your world in quiet but powerful ways, I’d love to hear them to share in a future post!

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

My Confirmation Book by Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle

Next spring, our youngest of five will be Confirmed in the Church! With First Eucharist happening the same day, we’ll have nudged all of our birdies through all the Sacraments of Initiation that spring day in the future.

To add to that, we just learned on Monday of the appointment of our new bishop, Bishop-elect Folda. He’ll be in place by then and will confirm Nicholas. How exciting to realize our little guy will be among the first crop of confirmands of Bishop Folda!

With all this lining up, I am so pleased to have a copy of my friend Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle’s new book geared toward those who are taking this big step in life. Because our diocese started confirming children in third grade, beginning with our oldest son’s group, we have had a lack of resources in preparing them. Certainly, we’ve had what has been needed to teach them what is necessary, but we’ve been in ground-breaking territory in our diocese, so anything additional is so helpful.

Donna-Marie’s “My Confirmation Book,” by Paraclete Press, is beautiful from the outside-in and in reverse. The cover is gorgeous and in my (and the Holy Spirit’s) favorite color, red. The dove representing the Holy Spirit is stunning, too.

But then you open it up, and the true treasure unfolds. This small, 70-page booklet leads the child through the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit one by one, with a Scripture verse, reflections and prayer. The reflections are geared to help the child think of situations that might apply — how a particular gift could play out in his/her life — with thoughtful questions to consider.

I’m already imagining going through these little chapters and having meaningful discussions with Nick about how Confirmation is going to change his life, and in what ways it’s going to strengthen his spiritual resolve. This will be a wonderful addition to the resources our parish provides.

The final prayer of the book comes from The Rite of Confirmation, and is, simply: “Lord, send out your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth.”

With this little red book in hand, the Spirit is going to be moving in a new and vibrant way in the lives of these young ones. This will be a beautiful keepsake for my son next year, and I hope for many others as well.

For more of Donna-Marie’s good work, visit her website.

Order My Confirmation Book and support CatholicMom.com with your purchase

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

I should probably mention there were 600 other people at the Catholic radio fundraiser he graced as keynote speaker, but I was honored to be at his table, #42.

Patrick Madrid, right, at our table, #42

I’ve been listening to Patrick on radio a long time now and greatly enjoyed his book, “The Godless Delusion,” which I read and discussed with him on Catholic radio a few years back. I’m now equally appreciating his memoir, “Envoy for Christ”.

Patrick led two talks Thursday — a midday luncheon and evening banquet — and at each of them, he made mention of something of which we should all be aware if we care about our lives: forced euthanasia.

Not a pleasant topic, no, but a reality that will almost assuredly affect us if we don’t pay attention.

Yes, that means you!

Patrick helped lead us into the topic by calling to mind the Titanic and the iceberg that started off the downhill spiral.

But as he reminded us, it really wasn’t the iceberg that did the big vessel in, but the lack of preparedness, the pride of many who designed the ship and set it afloat, and the failure to respond effectively once the block was spotted; these are the elements that caused the ship’s and its passengers’ demise.

Madrid pointed out that we, too, have an iceberg up ahead. Are we going to acknowledge its existence, and if so, will we collect our wits soon enough to avoid hitting it?

We have a situation now in which the population of our world is turning into an inverted pyramid, according to Madrid and others who study these sorts of things — the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, for example. And we know that many developed countries aren’t replacing themselves. That combined with medical technology that allows us to live longer could make for a highly problematic scenario soon.

Rather than having the base of young people at the bottom of the pyramid and the elderly population at the narrow top, we’ve got more and more older citizens at the wide top (above) and a waning number of youth to support everyone else.

Now, mix that with a culture that devalues the human being (think 40 years of abortion, consumption of pornography at an all-time high, and all kinds of other versions of objectification of the human person), and you’ve got a real issue: A whole bunch of old people who aren’t seen as valuable, and not enough young people to sustain them.

If we can justify disposing of our smallest children, Madrid pointed out, it’s going to be equally as easy to justify disposing of our elderly who have outlived their time of usefulness to us.

Seems logical to me, and frightening.

As a friend and I talked about this horrific possibility — a reality we’re already seeing in some countries, and beginnings of in our own — I mentioned that it could well be our generation that winds up first on the chopping block. “It will be those who put Roe v. Wade into place,” she said, who will first be nudged in line for an untimely death.

Again, I know, not a pleasant subject, but another friend of mine who visited a nursing home in France last year gave me a verbal tour of what could be our reality here someday soon, describing the desolation of the place and how little care the residents seemed to be being given.

God help us. Help us see the value in all of our citizens. Help us work on solutions that are life-giving and life-sustaining. You, Lord, are the author of life, and we are here because you loved us into being. Let us not desire to assume your post as Creator of all, but work to love one another while we can, and to help each other live as long as you will it.

Amen.

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

There were times I wondered if it would happen, truly. For one, 50+ hours traveling on a bus with mostly teenagers, virtually no leg room and an aisle seat, and tons of walking running to get to the bus on time left me in physical pain by the end of the pilgrimage.

I also got lost on the day of the March for Life. Yes, the day 500,000 people surrounded, I stopped to take a photo, and by the time I looked up again, poof! My group had vanished; a group that included my daughter and the people I was there to chaperone and photograph.

Not good. I shed a few quiet tears after the fourth cell-phone attempt came up empty. Thanks be to God, after several stressful phone conversations, I ended up reunited with my group in time for the longest part of the March. God brought me back. Dad too, perhaps.

Though the March was an incredible experience, that’s not what I’m feeling inclined to share about just now. Rather, ever since arriving in D.C., a journey that was all about life, I’m still stuck on the death of it.

But please hang on. I’m not intending this to be depressing. Not at all.

Yes, it’s true. I am still a grieving daughter. The loss of my father on Jan. 11 still haunts. But my days since haven’t been without light and joy. And I have to say, especially after what I saw in D.C., that the Catholic approach to death has been a huge part of the exacerbation of my healing.

It struck me first at our first stop — the Franciscan Monastery of the Holy Land.

Death and dying, everywhere…

St. Sebastian, patron saint of athletes

And yet so beautifully depicted.

Crypt of the Holy Land Monastery, St. Cecilia, patron saint of musicians.

This was a comfort to me, so fresh from the deathbed of my father. There’s something about watching a loved one die that causes the grip of death to lose a bit of its power — at least for me.

Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

Yes, it was soothing to me to be reminded that death…is just another part of the life continuum.

I recall again a conversation I had earlier this year about the Catholic focus on the crucifix.

Yes, we are big on that, but it does not mean we obsess about death.

March for Life 2013, Washington, D.C.

Rather, we acknowledge it. We don’t pretend it doesn’t exist. And in doing so, we are zeroing in on life. “This sad thing happens, but this good thing follows.”

In creating art depicting death, we declare ourselves free from the bondage of death.

Again, we are saying, this happens. And when it does, we weep, and that’s okay.

But…it’s not the end. Far from it.

It really is the beginning.

Meditation area – Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

A dear friend from Canada sent a book this week, and in a chapter on the Catholic perspective of death, this quote jumped out at me:

“God has not taken them from us; He has hidden them in His Heart that they may be closer to ours.” - Maurice Zundel

Praise be to God that this would be part of His plan; that this end is truly just a time of waiting for the beginning around the bend.

Crypt Church – Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

Roxane with her father in 1973

My father died early last Friday morning, just a few minutes after midnight. My sister and I were privileged to be with him, helping him make his way back to the others who love him dearly.

The night prior to his passing, I’d traveled three hours to the North Dakota hospital where he’d been since the day before Thanksgiving, and arrived ready to do what needed to be done to show him love while I still could. It was just the four of us — Mom, Dad my only sibling, Camille, and I — experiencing a very heart-wrenching yet peaceful, joy-filled time together.

Not long after I arrived, Camille mentioned our duet of old, figuring I’d bring it up at some point if she didn’t. “I was sort of hoping we might sing it again for Dad,” I said, confirming her thoughts. And so, just before she left for the evening, we drew near our father, who was by then unable to talk or even open his eyes, and sang “Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled” by Robert Franz with words from John 14:1:

Let not your heart be troubled, ye believe in God, believe in me.
My peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.
In my Father’s house are many mansions.
I go to prepare a place for you.
And if I go, I will come again.
And receive you until myself
My peace, my peace I give unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled.
Let not your heart be troubled.

The songs continued from there. On my phone I found lyrics to one my father sang to me years ago, a tune called “Sparrow in the Treetop,” and sang it to him the following morning. I also played some Christmas music I know he would have appreciated, and shared a couple other songs from YouTube that he’d taught me years ago — “Underneath the Arches,” “Bicycle Built for Two,” and “Poor Little Robin, Walkin’ to Missouri.”

I guess I wanted Dad to go out with a song in his heart. It was he who first taught us to appreciate music, after all. Both my sister and I have followed musical paths; we did not forsake what he’d given us in those earliest years through his love of a good tune.

My father’s funeral Mass on Tuesday at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit in Bismarck, N.D., where my parents married in 1965, will remain a precious memory to me for a long time to come. My mother, a trained lector, offered to do a reading, and rather than hire extra musicians to sing and play for the Mass, my sister and I raised our hands. It was breathtaking to hear the “Ave Maria” by flute resounding through the sanctuary during final goodbyes. After processing up with the rest of our family, I served as cantor and we both sang or played throughout the service.

It wasn’t without effort, though well spent in our minds. In the 24 or so hours leading up to the Mass, Camille had begun an intent search for piano music for our duet, checking by Internet and calling local piano stores, but came up short. Finally we surrendered. “Well, we’ve sung it without the piano all these years. We’ll just have to do it a cappella again,” we decided.  However, God had other plans, and in the nick of time the music appeared. The pianist whipped it into shape, and we were able to share, again, this gift with Dad and those who had gathered to mourn his passing.

At some point in those fleeting days with Dad, I shared with my sister this realization: “To think we started practicing this song all those years ago, all in preparation for this moment.”

It was a powerful thought that back around 1984 we’d happened upon this particular song, unknowing then what an unparalleled gift of love it would be for our father and family so many years later.

Throughout this process, as I felt deeply the gifts our father had passed on to us throughout his lifetime, another phrase kept tapping me on the shoulder as well: “It all comes around to love.”

Indeed, it does. When even words fail, song comes through, and in this case, a song rich in love – a return back to Dad for the love and life he’s given us.

To hear those songs Dad cherished earlier in his life, follow these links, and enjoy!

• Bicycle Built for Two (Nat King Cole) 
• Walkin’ to Missouri (Hames Sisters)
• Sparrow in the Treetop (Guy Mitchell)
• Underneath the Arches (Flanagan & Allen)

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

She said these words to me the other day, and by the next morning, plans were in order to make my way to the North Dakota city where she lives, and where she’s been visiting my father in a Catholic hospital for the past month-plus — since before Thanksgiving when he was hospitalized for pneumonia.

The Will to Live

Since the ambulance trip to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving, dad has had more dips than peaks. The pneumonia is at bay, but his body took a whipping from it, as well as his psyche. He’s been diagnosed by his primary doctor as having early-stages Alzheimer’s — a word I’d always hoped I’d never say or write in connection to my family members. Isn’t it enough that he’s been suffering from diabetes all these years? How fair that both brain and body be attacked? I’ve since learned there might be a connection between the two. But that’s for another post.

What’s been on my mind now is the will to live and how strong it is. Many days of late, I have wondered if my father has begun to lose that will — the same will that keeps my 98-year-old grandmother hanging on, unbelievably in my mind (though I’m grateful she’s still with us). Some days, he’s refused to eat. And when my mom invited him to a meeting about his condition and future with hospital staff the other day, he didn’t care to be part of the discussion. That said a lot right there. He seems content to let others take control of his life. That’s not my dad.

I’d really begun to feel that the end was near, and I think my mom had thought that, too, but today, a positive came from mom. When she arrived for her daily visit at the transitional unit in the hospital, a nurse had reported an “awesome day” and he was just finishing part of his lunch — real food, not the powdered drink he’d been consuming. He’d also eaten a good breakfast and taken all his pills without complaint. And — this is the clincher — he’d asked for something to read. This is the first time since his long hospital stay that he’s had any interest in reading. Big, big deal.

And so there’s hope again, and a growing wonderment within me about this will-to-live thing. As I’ve watched those near death spring back to life when, seemingly, the quality of life isn’t as superior as one would imagine it should be for one to desire it that much, I can’t help but stand in awe at how valiantly we cling to life…from cradle to grave, it seems.

Which begs the question: why? What is it that propels us in THIS direction? I realize, yes, that there is the other extreme — the young teen that gives up and chooses the opposite route. That, in light of what I’m talking about here, is just as perplexing. Because, based on my Grandma Betty’s life, even when the only thing to look forward to is a monthly outing to the doctor and maybe to lunch if you’re lucky, there is an absolutely over-the-top amazing will within most of us to live, to breathe, to see what’s next, even when the next thing is not taking a trip to the Bahamas or meeting the President of the United States.

Why? I don’t have an answer. I’m just exploring today, because I’m compelled to do so. What is it about this life that is worth clinging to?

The atheists I’ve talked to have challenged me in this. If we Christians are really, truly excited about the next world, if we view that to be our true home, then why the insistence on living in this world?

What is it? What do you think? I’ve come looking for answers and hope you’ll oblige me. I’m sure there are a million different answers for this question, but I want to know. What is it about life that makes it so worth living that my father would suddenly want to read the paper after not caring to look at another written word for a month straight?

I think I have part of the answer, but I’m looking forward to what you might add. And if I could ask for a few prayers for my parents besides, it would be worth this post to me in gold.

Copyright 2013 Roxane Salonen

One summer during junior high

For weeks, maybe months, afterward whenever those sweet youngsters would see me at Mass, they’d point me out to their parents, smiling brightly, proudly as if I were some kind of rock star. Of course at that awkward age I felt anything but, and yet I could see in their eyes and smiles that I had come to mean something to them, and the feeling was mutual.

I decided that summer that if I were to become a teacher like so many in my family had, I would teach first grade. Though it never came to pass, first-graders have and will always have a special place in my heart.

Which is one of the reasons I wept quickly and easily as I sat on my bed a week ago and read the Facebook status of my friend Donna-Marie, who lives in Connecticut, about a school shooting that had just taken place: ”Oh no! Shooting and fatalities at CT school! Please pray! All Newtown schools in lockdown.” The update had come from her cell phone.

Just a short while later, we knew much more and wished somehow that it wasn’t true.

As is always the case with such things, social networking has been lit up with discourse ranging from everything from gun control to mental illness as a result. I have not entered into those discussions, though I think they have a place and are important. But to me, this is largely a faith thing, a grieving thing, and for me, a time to sit a while and not say a whole lot.

But I have wanted to share this. Not long after the massacre, I had a thought about these dear children. In my mind, they were like little snowflakes falling upward into heaven, and above them, I imagined Mother Mary lovingly opening her arms, gently gathering up those sweet snowflakes, cradling them, welcoming them home.

They are lights to us now, every last one of them, including their teachers; lights that, if we allow it, will guide us all home someday.

Some of you may have come across either one of the two things I’d like to share before closing today. One is an email reflection written in memory of the children in Newtown that has been making the rounds. The other is a video that, when I watched it, made me think on the Newton children because they are around the same age. I hope they will bless you as they have me.

Peace be with you and may your Christmas be merry, bright and extraordinarily meaningful this year…

A Kids View of the Christmas Story video (kindergarten class from Oregon) 

Memorial to Newton, CT, children

by Cameo Smith, Mt. Wolf, PA

T’was 11 days before Christmas, around 9:38
when 20 beautiful children stormed through heaven’s gate.
Their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air.
They could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there.
They were filled with such joy, they didn’t know what to say.
They remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day.
“Where are we?” asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse.
“This is heaven,” declared a small boy, “we’re spending Christmas at God’s house.”
When what to their wondering eyes did appear
but Jesus, their savior. The children gathered near.
He looked at them and smiled, and they smiled just the same. Then He opened His arms and He called them by name.
And in that moment was joy, that only heaven can bring.
Those children all flew into the arms of their King.
And as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace,
one small girl turned and looked at Jesus’ face.
And as if He could read all the questions she had
He gently whispered to her, “I’ll take care of mom and dad.”
Then He looked down on earth, the world far below
He saw all of the hurt, the sorrow, and woe
Then He closed His eyes and He outstretched His hand,
“Let My power and presence re-enter this land!
“May this country be delivered from the hands of fools.
I’m taking back my nation. I’m taking back my schools!”
Then He and the children stood up without a sound.
“Come now my children let me show you around.”
Excitement filled the space, some skipped and some ran,
all displaying enthusiasm that only a small child can.
And I heard Him proclaim as He walked out of sight,
“In the midst of this darkness, I AM STILL THE LIGHT.”

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

After a year of trying to make working outside the home and managing a family of seven come together, I surrendered and returned to the hearth. The joys have been more than what I could have anticipated.

I didn’t realize how thirsty my soul had become, how infrequently I had been taking nice long breaths. I have spent much of my first couple weeks at home catching up on all the things that have gone undone for the past 11 months.

Until now, I had been avoiding my kitchen, knowing I could not deal with all that being in a kitchen and providing warm, healthy meals entails. Instead, my family was having to fend for itself, mostly, or being tossed bags of fast food. How good it feels to be reunited with my Crockpot!

I also took part of a day to start decorating for Christmas. I don’t know how this would have ever gotten done had I not come home.

Each decoration hung…

Each photo of a friend or loved one displayed…

Each symbol of the blessed waiting this season entails…

Each extra step to help my family feel welcomed when they walk through the front door…

Has felt like a breath from heaven.  

Oh, I know I will come down from my high soon enough. Then again, as a friend pointed out the other day, I had 11 months of not breathing, so perhaps I’ll have 11 of breathing deeply. All I know is that God has blessed my steps back to the home front, and I plan to seek His will each day to make good on this gift, this second chance to be a mom who doesn’t just skim the surface but goes in deeply and wholly.

Thank you, thank you Lord Jesus, for the hope, the promise, and love you offer us now, and always. We await your coming into our lives more fully, too, with great anticipation!

I’m so pleased to be part of the effort to help spread word of my sweet friend Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle’s brand-new book, “Rooted In Love: Our Calling as Catholic Women.” 

Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle

I can think of no better time than now for a book like this to find its way into my own hands, head and heart.This week has been my first working at home full time after a year of trying to manage work outside the home. With the surrender, my life has changed overnight, and all for the better so far. In these first days of being immersed fully in the depths of family life, I’ve been rewarded richly as I’ve rediscovered the deepest calling through serving my family. And there’s no one who more assuredly affirms women in their roles as mother, wife and daughter of God than Donna-Marie.

My hot-off-the-press copy of “Rooted in Love” is sitting right next to my nightstand. I’ve already begun dipping in and am looking forward to journeying further with Donna-Marie by way of her blessed, wise words throughout these next weeks. To whet my and your appetites, Donna-Marie has graciously answered a few questions about her book and how it came to be. By leaving a comment at the end of this post, you’ll be entered in a drawing to receive a free copy!

Donna-Marie, thanks for allowing me to be one of the hosts of your blog tour. I’d love to know more about why you wrote “Rooted in Love.” In what specific ways do you feel it will benefit women?

Thank you for asking, Roxane. I wrote “Rooted in Love” because I believe that Catholic and Christian women are grappling with so many issues and I feel this book might very well bring them the peace they’re aching for.

Rooted in Love

Women wrestle with scores of struggles. They are sometimes stressed, depressed, and worn out. They battle with demands for perfection and can sometimes feel alone and discouraged trying to make sense out of all of the mixed messages aimed at them. The world tries to push a false identity on women based on its corrupt values. Most of that comes to us through an onslaught of messages via the mass media and the culture, which is hard to escape.

Women are stretched beyond measure trying to do it all—all of what they need to accomplish on any given day and even the extra bunch of things that they add to their own shoulders (inadvertently or mistakenly). In addition, certainly we must face the facts that women have not exactly been acknowledged or affirmed properly throughout the centuries.

With all of that going on in a woman’s life, she might (and often does) totally lose sight of her true purpose (if she was ever aware of it), as well as the joy she deserves to feel, being a daughter of God, possessing so many beautiful gifts.

I hope that by my offering encouragement, support, and advice in ”Rooted in Love,” Catholic women will garner a sense of affirmation of their God-given dignity and even feel a renewed peace. I’m hoping and praying that women will fully realize their true feminine genius and endeavor to unearth it with gusto.

As I wrote in the introduction, “Today’s Catholic woman need not feel alone or discouraged. There is an amazing richness to the Catholic faith that can be unearthed and applied to our lives. Catholic womanhood is steeped in tremendous love, transforming grace, and fulfilling joy. Our mission and vocation are rooted in love of God, who actually stoops down to serve us, his creatures, even as we strive to serve him. Amazing!”

Later on, I mentioned that “Somewhere beneath the surface of our lives exists an incredible God-given and magnificent dignity as a woman. I say that it’s hidden because, for many women, when they recognize their true dignity, it’s a sheer delight, perhaps even an unexpected surprise.”

Throughout the book, I discuss the innumerable facets of a Catholic woman’s life, offering suggestions of Catholic tools that can help navigate it. I also propose the solution to the problems of objectification, exploitation, and the mass confusion aimed at women: to earnestly and prayerfully seek to discover our true dignity as women, reveal it with great joy, and then do our part to assist other women to unearth their true God-given dignity.

Why is this the ideal time for “Rooted in Love” to release?

In the chapter titled, “In My Struggles,” I talk about the many challenging issues that women face, including sickness, grief, stress, sense of failure, discouragement, anger, resentment, jealousy, divorce, difficult pregnancies, loss of a spouse, being stretched to the limit, dealing with demands for perfection, and being bombarded with lopsided messages from the culture.

Because of this and the fact that women could certainly benefit from encouragement and guidance, I think the book comes at a very good time. Despite these issues, women are pressing forward, moving deeper into their faith, and feeling more recognized as an integral part of the Church.

In ”Rooted in Love,”I draw on solid Catholic teachings and weave in uplifting as well as dramatic stories throughout. I endeavor to hearten Catholic women to strive to explore how they can live an amazingly meaningful and happy life as they come to know, love, and serve God with their feminine minds, hearts, and hands. Imagine what could happen if women would gather together to share their faith and insights by using this book in a study group!

Indeed, I can easily see this book being used as a conversation starter and idea generator among groups of women. I think the fruits of women gathering together to share their faith and insights by using this as a tool would be bountiful.

Donna, thanks for sharing some of the gems of your book with us. We are indeed thirsting for words and thoughts such as what you have labored to offer us here. Thanks for digging deep into your own life as a mother, wife and daughter of God to bring us “Rooted in Love.”

I’m excited to share this treasure of a book with one blessed reader. I’ll be watching for those comments!

For those who would like to order a copy or two (Christmas is nearing), visit Donna-Marie’s website and buy it at a special, early-bird price for a limited time here.

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

Now that I’ve experienced these pre-Advent events, I never want to go back! They are the most peaceful, lovely way to ease into the season of Advent.

The evening includes treats, Scripture readings and reflection, a presentation of some kind that typically involves a meditation on Advent, and song.

Each table host sets up a unique setting…

And serves a dessert of her choice. At this year’s program, our sweet host, Julie, brought a chocolate cake and M&Ms. Nothing like chocolate to soothe your soul.

After a prayer and welcome, Jill and I sang the first song, which was also the evening’s theme: “Sacred Silence.” What a privilege to be able to launch the music and help prepare the hearts of the women attending for what would follow!

During the welcome, Mary Kay mentioned that Advent isn’t so much a time for us to prepare for Christmas, but for us to be prepared, to be readied. I love how just a slight word change can make all the difference.

Are we looking at Advent as the build-up to Christmas, to scurry around and get loads of things done? Or seeing it as a time when Jesus prepares our hearts for what He wants to offer us?

The very talented Melissa accompanied Jill and me on piano. She also sang a beautiful song, “Blessings” (I’ll include a link at the end) while playing piano, and she gave the presentation/meditation. Her gentle voice was as welcoming as the words themselves.

Melissa reminded us that ”woman is she who receives love in order to give love in return.” What a thought-provoking line. “It takes great courage and great strength to open ourselves up to receiving Christ’s love, because Christ’s love is so powerful that it changes us from the inside out,” she said.

She asked some tough questions for us to ponder, such as “What wouldn’t you do for the love of your child? Your husband?” and “What habits won’t you sacrifice for the love of Christ?”

We have to ask ourselves these questions, she said, “because it is our part, as women, to witness to the world what receiving love looks like.”

It is out part as women to witness to what receiving love looks like. 

Wow…

That is the thought I am going to carry into my Advent. We have a beautiful opportunity, as women, to shine Christ’s love in a way that only we can do. What a privilege.

So, are you ready? It’s almost time.

God bless you as you are readied for Advent, and as you await the gift the Lord has chosen specifically for you this Christmas season!

Hear “Blessings” by Laura Story here.

And the story behind her song: Blessings story…

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

One Nation, Under God, Indivisible…

I remember saying The Pledge of Allegiance as a kindergartner, my tiny hand placed somewhere in the vicinity of where my heart supposedly was attached and beating, doing my best to get through the string of long words that made absolutely no sense.

Can you blame me for thinking it was “Witchit Stands” and “Invisible?”

Now, it hurts my heart to think on those same words, knowing full well what they mean, but recognizing how far away from them we’ve become.

Rather than one nation, under God, indivisible, we’ve become a nation undoubtedly divided. We have the red and the blue, yes, but they are deeply separate. Faith has not fallen away completely, but secularism is spreading, doing its best to make the very source of our existence, God, invisible. And I think most would agree we have reached a point of stark divisibility.

That is reality. Turn to social media during a major national event, like the recent political debates, and it’s clear we are one nation having two different conversations. What one half thinks is brilliant, the other finds ridiculous. What causes one side to break out into enthusiastic cheers, the other jeers.

Truth be told, I think these divisions have been around for a while now, seething just below the surface, waiting to break through. And now, they have. It is troubling, and yet somehow, naming it, acknowledging it is worth something.

We are no longer in pretend mode. We know that our nation contains two major factions that are becoming more prominent, more distinguished every day. The issues that affect our lives on a deep level are demanding they announce themselves, calling them to the surface, challenging who we are and what we’re about.

We are like two people talking to one another in a different language, each completely misunderstanding what the other is about and failing to see that, in the end, we really do want the same things, but each is choosing a different route.

Another uncomfortable fact: though gray matter exists, each stance contains varying degrees of right and wrong. We are having to decide where we see the most in each and move in the direction of the most right, the most truth.

I could go on and on about how troubled all this makes me, not because not everyone agrees with how I see things but because a truly healthy discussion doesn’t even seem possible anymore.

At the point of this realization, there is only one place to go for solace: the feet of Jesus.

How do we resolve this? Where is this going? Where are you, Lord? Will you intervene? What will it take to make us come back together again?

Lord, show us your mercy. Break through the division in which your children find themselves. Help us to be able to have a respectful discussion once again. Give us a way to see your face as we look into the eyes of our neighbor with whom we are at odds.

God, please bless America. Show us what we have not been able to see. Give us hope and clear direction.

You alone can bring us back to our senses, to help us love again, to give us a way to have a conversation not marked with bitterness and misunderstanding, but a common goal.

Only you, God. I will be watching for your answer.

Amen.

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

Getting the Marriage Conversation Right

The other day on the way to school, one of my daughters came up with what we in journalism call a bombshell question.

“So, Mom, what do you think about gay marriage?”

We were about a block from the drop-off point when the question came forth; not nearly enough time for a thoughtful response to such a multi-layered topic. But her question prodded me to dig deeper to find a satisfactory answer. After all, I realized at that moment that this is no longer an issue I can just toss about and let fall where it might. Seems my children are invested in the answer now, too.

And, as it turns out, in more ways than one might realize at the outset.

In order to answer my daughter’s question to satisfaction, I realized I needed to go back, to begin from a simpler, less explosive starting point.

Indeed, before a fair conversation can happen on whether gay marriage should be allowed, we must address the base question: Why does marriage exist in the first place? And why would the state care?

Getting the Marriage Conversation Right: A Guide for Effective Dialogue

As laid out in a little book by William B. May that recently fell into my hands (Getting the Marriage Conversation Right), there are two definitions floating around about marriage these days, particularly as it concerns public policy:

1. Marriage is the public recognition of a committed relationship between a man and a woman (or two adults) for their fulfillment.

2. Marriage unites a man and a woman with each other and any children born from their union.

Which of the two is true, and which better serves the public interest?

Read them again. Notice that the second is the true statement. It’s also the way marriage has been understood and recognized by states, cultures and religions for eons.

Here’s another fact: marriage between a man and woman is the only institution that unites children with their moms and dads.

In marriage, a man and a woman freely choose to make themselves irreplaceable to each other. They also become irreplaceable to any children that result from their union.

Some readers might have to resist the temptation to become distracted by side issues here. It’s important to stay on point. The fact that not all marriages remain intact is a side point. Nor is anyone going to argue (at least I won’t) that same-sex couples do not have the capacity to fully love a child as well as anyone else. Those conversations can happen on a different post. But for now, let’s keep to this: What’s the harm in changing the definition of marriage?

The above bold statement is really the crux of the issue. As May notes, removing marriage between a man and a woman from the law would eliminate the only societal institution that unites children with their mothers and fathers.

“Redefining marriage and the family implies the only thing that is important in parenting is competency, leading to the notion that no one, including mothers and fathers, are irreplaceable, and men and women are interchangeable,” May says. “The fallacy of this can be seen by turning to our own experience. All of us have the desire…for knowing and for being loved by our mother and father.”

If marriage is redefined, it would necessarily have to be presented as a lifestyle alternative with no relationship to children or the foundation of a family with common ancestors.

I know this might not be the way the discussion is being framed and understood, but it is what’s at stake. Are we really willing to go here?

When we look at it this way, it really isn’t even about homosexuality at all. It’s about the children who are the fruits of marriage, whether or not the marriage remains solid from beginning to end.

This is not a deflection. This is a crucial point that is often misunderstood or eliminated, and yet it’s what’s most at stake in this debate.

Is it surprising that I haven’t mentioned God once, nor quoted any Bible passages? There is no need. Our faith affirms Truth, and encourages us in Truth, and helps lead us to Truth. But so, too, does logic and reason. You don’t have to be Catholic, or even Christian, to see the logic of the above.

It can be challenging to pull away from emotion long enough to really get at the truth of the matter. It is clear, and it is fair, to everyone. Especially kids. And even if we don’t have children, we were a child once, and we likely know and hopefully love someone who is a child.

The discussion is important, and we owe it to our children, and theirs, to keep having this discussion, and being as thoughtful about it as we can.

Q4U: Where do you stand on the issue of marriage and its purpose?

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

Baby Francis

My excitement over the Year of Faith came to a sudden pause Wednesday, just hours before the bells were to ring to herald the launch.

The change in momentum resulted from an email message that came with a foreboding subject line. “It is with great sadness that I must let you know…”

No…no… I thought as I read the words my heart did not want to grasp. A baby for whom I’ve been praying had passed on earlier that morning in the arms of his parents.

Back in December, this little darling had captured my heart through a photo his mother had sent me of him swaddled in red cloth with large, white cardboard snowflakes behind him.

I was so taken with little Francis that I made the photo my computer wallpaper. It served both to introduce him to my kids and prompt me to pray for improvement of his health issues that had come with his diagnosis of Down syndrome.

I’d been praying for him well before that, too, from the time his mommy, Cathy, had announced her pregnancy. How joyful I was when I learned he’d entered our world! I welcomed updates on the family and loved knowing how they’d opened their arms to this youngest child of seven.

When Cathy reached out through email Tuesday afternoon asking for prayers, I immediately sent out some urgent petitions. Francis was struggling and had stopped nursing. Disconcerting as this was, I truly believed I’d hear back in a few days that things had improved. Instead, little Francis was called to his eternal home.

I can’t begin to imagine what this dear family is going through. It is, for them, a time of deep grieving, and I can’t ignore that I am connected, even though we’ve never met in real life.

So rather than be dishonest and offer a post on my exuberance over the Year of Faith, I feel I must be real: this is hard. And yet…I know that it is through faith that we find hope, even in the darkest situation.

Thursday morning, while checking emails before work, I saw that my “Read the Catechism in a Year” email from Flocknote had arrived. I searched the words, looking for something that could encourage. And there it was in the prologue:

“So that this call should resound throughout the world, Christ sent forth the apostles he had chosen, commissioning them to proclaim the gospel: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.” Strengthened by this mission, the apostles “went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it.”

I am with you always…while the Lord worked with them…

God is with us. Even in this! This is our hope. Even in the death of a precious child, the Lord will work with us. He will not abandon us in our greatest hour of need, in this moment of grief. Somehow, in some way we can not yet imagine, God will turn this into something good.

Later, at an opening Mass for the Year of Faith at our cathedral here in Fargo, N.D., Monsignor Goering reminded us that faith is, first and foremost, a gift, and as such, our faith is to become our response back to God for that gift.

Francis was a gift, too, and our response to his life, even his passing, is a call out to God, a cry of the heart. More than ever, we need Him. We need the light that He offers. The world needs it. Little Francis’ family needs it.

Monsignor also reminded us, as did the Holy Father, that this Year of Faith should not be just about studying facts, but getting to know the person who is Jesus — to deepen that relationship with Him.

How can I turn my sadness at the loss of baby Francis into a conversation with God — a dialogue of hope?

Dear Lord, I know that the sadness we feel over Francis is because of love. Thank you for your faith that helps ensure us that you love him beyond measure, and will take good care of him. Let this be one more reminder of how desperately we need you, how great our need to accept your gift of faith to us is. Thank you, God, for Francis, and thank you for the Year of Faith.

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

Why Faith and Community Go Hand in Hand

At some point in my Christian journey, I discovered how vital community is for living a more vibrant faith.

I’m one of the fortunate ones; the discovery for me began in college. I’m not saying my college days were perfect and that I didn’t stumble along like everyone else most of the time, but I did do a few things right. One of them was joining a Catholic prayer group called Covenant-Faith connected to my college’s Newman Center. We met Sunday evenings for food and fellowship and it became something of a lifeline.

Toward the end of our college years, our beloved priest, who had led us and was leaving, too, into retirement, gathered with us at a retreat. As we talked about our futures, he posed the scary-to-us question: Now what? How can you ensure your faith lives will remain solid without this community? We shrugged our shoulders like small children, and then he gently assured us we had it within us to continue onward by finding new communities with whom we could experience the faith life together.

I’m sure few of us in that initial group came into the right place right off. Speaking for myself, those were some painful days of trying to figure out how everything would best fit together, but even that floundering was necessary to prod me along. If I can point to one element that has made the difference between a lukewarm faith life and a vibrant one, however, it would have to be this: community.

When my faith is in a good place, it is because of community. The worst of the dips have happened when I have felt more alienated from that community of fellow believers, oftentimes due to my own negligence. Through time, that community has expanded to include more than one group. I have my local faith friends here, and with the help of things like Catholic radio and social media, the community of fellow Christians throughout the world. Each of these groups helps me keep my faith honed and strengthened.

Just yesterday, a younger mother friend shared something with me on Facebook that reminded me, again, just how valuable community is. First, she wanted to know if she could join me at the abortion facility downtown to pray for an end to abortion. This is a brave step for her, she admitted, but she’s been emboldened.

By what? Community. Her son started Catholic school this year, and being part of that faith community, in a very short amount of time, has made all the difference, she said, adding, “Getting more and more involved with the church and school has really renewed my faith, and my husband’s, too. Let me tell you, it feels AMAZING.”

There’s nothing like moving on the path toward our God with others alongside us. In fact, it’s the way we’re meant to do it; it’s God’s very plan. That my friend has discovered this and feels so enlivened by it brings me great joy. In part because I know exactly what she’s talking about and how great it feels, and also, because I care about her and am so thrilled she is rediscovering God with the help of a loving and supportive faith community.

Q4U: When has community been instrumental in enlivening your faith?

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

Interviewing Dr. Ray Gaurendi at the 2010 Marian Eucharistic Congress, Fargo

The question caught me off guard, tucked into an email by a friend as it was, out of the blue as it seemed.

“Do you regard yourself as an evangelical?”

This friend has come to know me in large part through my writing — email messages, manuscript excerpts and Facebook posts. So, mostly in the context of shared professional interests and less through a faith context. That’s part of the reason the question made me pause. That, and I was skeptical of what might follow.

He quickly clarified that he doesn’t view being an evangelical as a negative but he was simply curious and just had to ask.

And I was inspired to answer.

The short answer is of course! How could I not be? How could anyone who has been infected by the love of Christ not be inclined toward shouting it from the rooftops?

Shouting it from the rooftops, and beaches…

And yet I also recognize that God made all of us different, with varying propensities and gifts. And that not every Christian considers him/herself an evangelical.

Here are the bare facts. Beginning from my childhood days, I seemed destined toward a life in the communications realm. One of my sister’s and my favorite past times was making up commercials on our mother’s cassette tape recorder. (Yes, I realize this dates me.) Commercials, newscasts, jingles, you name it, we wrote and acted out the scripts.

How should I answer, then? Is evangelical really the right word to describe who I am? Or is it more simply that I am a communicator?

Though they most certainly do deserve to be juxtaposed, “Catholic” and “Evangelical” historically have not shown up in the same sentence very often. There were the Catholic Christians, and then there were the Evangelical Christians. And the two were very different.

My sense is that this is what had my friend scratching his head.

So, this is the best I could offer.

At bottom, I’m a child of God. I’m also a Catholic in love with her faith and the God who is the source of it. And I’m a natural communicator — someone who enjoys sharing the vitality I feel with others in my life, whether through being inspired by someone’s writing and wanting others to be as well, or helping draw others to Christ through music, or writing articles or posts of my own to educate and/or help reveal something important to others or offer a bit of hope.

My faith has been important to me since childhood but it has grown in my adult years in a way that has been all-encompassing. I can no longer separate from my Catholic Christian identity, nor would I want to. And I cannot help but let the contents of my cup of life overflow.

If that makes me an evangelical, I am happy to wear that title, along with any others I might collect through the things to which I am drawn and the ways I try (though imperfectly) to live my life.

At the beginning of a statement on “The New Evangelization” by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, we are reminded of the passage from Scripture about faith being like the mustard seed:  

“It is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade.”  Mk 4: 31-32

The New Evangelization, according to the document, calls each of us to deepen our faith, believe in the Gospel message and go forth to proclaim the Gospel. It calls Catholics to be evangelized and then go forth to evangelize others, including through “re-proposing” the Gospel to those who have experienced a crisis of faith. It especially encourages Catholics to renew their relationship with Jesus Christ and his Church.

Somehow, I’ve gotten happily swept up in this enthusiasm for Jesus Christ and his Church and, as one predisposed to sharing the good things in life, I cannot help but, in turn, want others to be similarly enlivened. I keenly sense the brevity of life and know that we only have a certain amount of time to make a difference. So I choose to not hold back.

I know, too, that my efforts and what I have within me alone are not enough to change lives. It is Christ working through me that effects this enthsiasam as I continue to work each day to nurture and improve upon my own relationship with God.

So, that’s the long answer to the question.

The short at the end of the long? Yes, I’m an evangelical, if by evangelical you mean that I’m one not inclined to hold back in sharing my faith, in both private and public settings. And while I try to do so with gentleness and humility whenever possible, I’ll admit that sometimes, I get a little excited about being a Catholic Christian.

It is about love, after all. And love is worth getting excited about, in my humble opinion.

Q4U: How do you feel about the term “evangelical?” Is it attractive or a turnoff? Does it ever apply to you?

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

For the past five years or so, I’ve been hearing about Immaculee Ilibagizafrom my daughter’s godmother and my good friend, Mary. Each year our families have gathered in the fall at Camp Wilderness near Park Rapids, Minn., I would hear yet another rendition, based on another of Immaculee’s books — the most famous of which, I would say, was her first, Left to Tell.

Mary brought Immaculee’s story to life for me through her lively enthusiasm and vivid descriptions of how Immaculee had survived the Rwandan genocide of the early 1990s. And yet, somehow, I’d never picked up any of Immaculee’s work. However, with Immaculee’s impending visit to our area next month, I was commissioned to write a preview article for our local newspaper, and so I had the privilege of interviewing Immaculee by phone from her current home in New York two weeks ago. To prepare, I borrowed two of Mary’s books — her second, Led by Faith, and her third, Our Lady of Kibeho.

I’m towards the end of the latter now, and it has been a fascinating read, just as the former was. Reading about the Marian apparitions to a group of Rwandan children in the early 1980s has been so enlightening. I’ve always been drawn to Mary, but I’m embarrassed to say that until recently, I’d either not heard of or thought a lot about her appearances in Africa.

Christianity, including Catholicism, has grown in Africa. And though these apparitions don’t account for all of that growth, the 1980s visits most certainly influenced a spike in devotion of the faithful. They also provided something of a prophetic warning of the atrocities that would unfold just 13 years later.

Reading this story from Immaculee’s perspective, though, has not only informed, but touched me personally. It has brought to mind my feelings when I was introduced to Our Lady of Lourdes back in my childhood, and how I wished, for a time, that she would appear to me. Until I became too frightened and decided perhaps I was not equipped for such a visit after all.

The day I interviewed Immaculee, she was set to leave for Rwanda with her family after our visit. I was curious what the purpose of her visit home might be, and she said they were traveling back to take part in a Holy Day pilgrimage. Since this was at the beginning of August, I can only assume the visit had something to do with the Assumption.

On September 8, I will travel with Mary to Grafton, ND, to meet Immaculee and worship at Mass with her and hear her presentation in person. I am already grateful to her for what she’s offered me through the two books of hers I’ve read. And though nobody asked for a endorsement, I would strongly encourage a read of Immaculee’s books. Her faith is so precious, and her devotion, so inspiring. I do believe God has led her to her work of writing and presenting very purposefully.

Through Immaculee’s efforts of recording stories from her childhood, from the holocaust that befell her country, and details that surrounded Mary’s visits, I’ve been reminded of the pure and deep love Mary has for all of us. And though her primary mission remains pointing us to her son, our Lord, she’s also here to acknowledge our humanity and draw us close, to reassure us that there’s still time to make a difference, and that we can help transform this world of woe into something that brings life, hope and peace!

I’ll be back after Immaculee’s visit to share more of her message. For now, I would encourage anyone who hasn’t already to find Immaculee’s work. If you’re looking for a good, end-of-summer read, you will not be disappointed by what she offers. Her writings are packed full of important messages that have practical implications for those of us in the world today.

Q4U: Have you read any of Immaculee’s books? What did you think?

Copyright 2012 Roxane Salonen

“I’m sorry, Rox, but we’re going to have the cancel the trip again.”

It was my mother, bearing news of health issues on the home front; concerns that would cause her long-laid plans to take our 9-year-old on a trip to Kansas to a screeching halt – for the second summer in a row.

Last time, a lot of money was lost. But more than that, it was a huge disappointment to my son, who had been waiting for his first plane ride, and to the hosts who’d waited two summers with filled-out itineraries in anticipation of his visit.

I shared some of the details on Peace Garden Mama earlier this week, but in blogging, there are always more things to be said. And today, I can’t help but trace back the hours that followed that phone call. Because I might need a reminder a few months from now.

At first, my mind went to logistics. If I were to go in my mom’s stead, as she’d suggested last and now this summer, would it even be possible? Could I pull off changing work and home plans to make the trip happen? I had a lot of factors to consider.

I knew a reversal would cause some complications, so I paused. I decided not to move in any direction right off. Instead, after turning off the phone, I laid back down and prayed.

“What is your will God? What are the more important factors here? I don’t want to do anything that is against what You would want.”

I prayed these and other words, and then I turned to Mary, reciting some Hail Marys to be assured of her guidance as a fellow mother agonizing over something involving her son.

But I couldn’t pray all day. We were on a timeline. My mom had requested a decision in four hours; after all, the plane would be leaving in 16. So I got up and began making phone calls to see if the lights would be green or red. “If they’re all red, Lord, I’ll surrender and turn back. If they’re green, I’ll make it work somehow.”

I knew, at that point of jumping off, that I had to trust God with the details. If He wanted this trip to happen, He’d have to help me find a way. “What do you want me to do, God? Show me what steps to take.”

God often works through others to reach us. It took a handful of people to say, “Yes, I can help out,” but in the end, I was blessed by a week of precious time with my son — my fourth child who rarely has had me all to himself for more than a few minutes at a time.

Our adventures included time at Wonderscope children’s museum: