Ever since I found out about the arrest of West Philadelphia abortion doctor Gosnell two years ago, he has been on my mind. He was charged with the murder of at least one woman and several babies born alive. I felt burdened to pray for him. This was before I had read the Grand Jury Report and before I knew any details. I still pray for him but it is harder to do.

When I became aware that the trial was local enough that I could participate in it, I felt compelled to be there for the closing arguments and I brought my teenage daughters. They are old enough to experience the reality of abortion and, because my eldest is a top debater in her school and considering law, this would be a good way to see how attorneys do their job.

I did a little research and found out the location of the trial and the train schedule and we left on the early train Monday morning. We showed up to the courthouse and got caught up in the jury crowd who happened to be checking in when we arrived. After a few mishaps and metal tweezers in my purse, we finally got through security.

The court room was a small and windowless stuffy room on the third floor of the Criminal Justice Center in Philadelphia. The seating was not unlike the wooden pews in a church building. We took seats just behind the journalists and looked around. My eyes landed on two courtroom artists finishing some expert chalk pastels of the defending attorneys. I wondered if they were working from memory since the trial had not yet started.

I spotted the back of Father Frank Pavone’s head and Bryan Kemper, one the founder and the other the director of Priests For Life. I recognized Bryan from his Facebook pictures and flesh-colored gauge ear piercings. I introduced myself and asked him to introduce me to my hero, Father Frank.

Father Frank kindly stopped talking to an important looking man sitting next to him and made my acquaintance. When I told him my 2 daughters were with me he excused himself and said he wanted to meet them. He came back to our seats to introduce himself to Veronica and Isabel. I was very touched by this and I suspect he cares very much about what young people think. During the breaks he looked back several times and I bet he would have wanted to hear what Vero and Izzy’s thoughts were as the trial progressed. Unfortunately we didn’t stay until the end.

The court room holds about 70 and slowly filled to capacity. About four young women dressed in business attire sat in front of us and told us they were attorneys for AUL- Americans United for Life. One was named Veronica so I teasingly nudged my Veronica and told her she was looking at her future.

The trial got to a late start. When Gosnell entered and sat down Veronica confessed that her spirit felt overwhelmingly sad for him and she had to hold back tears. Prayers instantly filled her heart for him. Isabel turned to me and asked, “Is that him?” I told her yes. I knew she was wondering how we could be sitting so close to a serial killer who looked like he could be somebody’s grandfather. He’s an ordinary looking elderly black man.

The jury, which was comprised of mostly middle aged men and women both black and white filed in.
O’Neill’s lawyer went first. O’Neill practiced medicine without a license and is charged with murder for the death Mongar, the woman who died of an overdose at the hands of the Gosnell staff. The attorney argued that people were paying for services that were rendered and not necessarily a license and he compared it to the services of a barber. For example, if you got your hair cut and were satisfied but later found out the barber was not licensed; you would not be able to say that something had been stolen from you. His entire defense consisted of dismantling the credibility of any witness testimony against O’Neill. It was clear that O’Neill wanted to be considered entirely separate from Gosnell.

The jury took a small break to deliberate at which point I spotted the lovely Fox News personality Kimberly Guilfoyle decked out in a lime green dress. Her gaze swept the courtroom and then she walked out. I was pretty excited.

McMahon defended Gosnell next. I recognized him from having seen him on the news. He is a bald man in his 60′s with a pinched face that gets red when he gets worked up. He was having serious coughing fits for a good while before trial began but they settled down when he started speaking.

He flattered the jury for their faithful service and reminded them of their obligation and duty to be honest and objective and to consider if there is reasonable doubt in this case. He told them that the burden of the loss of freedom was in their hands. At this point my 14 year old leaned and whispered that it was a contradiction to talk about freedom when the babies’ freedom had not been considered.

McMahon argued that the jury’s job was not to prove that Gosnell was innocent but to consider that there was a reasonable doubt to think he might not be guilty. If all they could conclude was that the babies “MAY have been” alive then they would be violating their oath if they didn’t consider that reasonable doubt.

He agreed that abortion is an ugly bloody thing and compared it to his knee replacement which he called a violent bloody procedure.

As he spoke, his voice grew louder and more passionate, expounding on how from the beginning nobody ever presumed on Gosnell’s innocence but the opposite. The media unfairly used terms like House of Horrors to describe his practice and never gave Gosnell a fair shake. (I can hear the violins now).

According to McMahon a tsunami of political rhetoric was created to manipulate and distract the jury. The jury was challenged to stand strong, to show character, courage, truth and independence against the rhetoric created by media and politics. He claimed that the witnesses who had pleaded guilty to murder had been swept in by the tsunami and framed by the government and had done so out of fear.

Two year old abortion instruments and a beat up bloody chair had been taken from the clinic and had been sitting in a closet collecting dust for two years awaiting for the trial. These were placed front and center of the jury to sway them and prey on their fears, McMahon complained.

He showed slides of a clean clinic with a decent waiting room and procedure rooms and explained that the question of whether his clinic was clean or not did not make Gosnell a murderer and that murder could happen in the cleanest of places. ( I agreed with him on that point and considered the hypocrisy of this trial. Aren’t all abortionists equally guilty?) I did wonder if the pictures had been taken after the clinic had been cleaned up because they were inconsistent with the grand jury’s report of what they had seen; bloody walls, cat feces, dirty bloody instruments etc.

Gosnell was a good guy, said McMahon. He gave poor women access to health care and never turned anybody who couldn’t pay away. He actually helped women, trained them in medicine and gave them jobs. (Um, really? He illegally employed a 15 yr old to work excessive hours and grossly underpaid her! What a guy!)

McMahon contested that we privileged folk couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be desperate and uninsured. Did a dirty fish tank, dirty re-used catheter or cats roaming a clinic make him a murderer? No! Hospital abortionists don’t get prosecuted and this is clearly a case of the elitist prejudice against a black Gosnell and those who look down their noses at West Philly. (I looked over to the jury to see if their expressions gave away any distaste for this overt play of the race card but they all had their poker faces on.)

Just last week, Alveda King, Martin Luther King Junior’s niece, lambasted these ludicrous claims in the media and reminded the public that Gosnell was the one who discriminated against minorities, performing their abortions in the dingier dirtier downstairs rooms and giving white women preferential treatment in the upstairs rooms.

McMahon spent most of his time trying to dismantle any credibility against the main witness, a staff member at the clinic, Kareema Cross, calling her Forrest Gump for being all over the place. He argued that she couldn’t be objective because of a falling out with Gosnell and that when she had been given the opportunity to speak the first time she didn’t divulge any information on babies she had allegedly see born alive. Clearly she had changed her witness to suit her best interests.

At this point the prosecution grew angry and objected calling for a sidebar. It was agreed that they would have their chance to respond later.

After casting doubt on Kareema’s testimony, McMahon went through the painstaking process of trying to prove that each baby in question had been born dead. The mothers’ abdomens’ had been injected with digoxin which was a full proof method of causing fetal demise. That’s how he stated it but as the borage of crap continued out of his mouth he started resorting to words like “kill” and “baby”. He claimed that doctors agreed that the purpose of the digoxin was to “kill the baby right” which means in utero.

I want to pause here and point out that this is what our culture has come to. I realized that I was sitting in a courtroom in the United States of America listening to an intelligent man tell intelligent people that there is a right way to kill a baby. This is what abortion has done to us. At which point did the question about the location of infanticide become the criteria of whether infanticide is ethical or unethical? Why weren’t we asking how these children could have been killed in the first place! When did we become so schizophrenic?

McMahon went to great lengths to explain that all babies were born dead and it was only afterwards that Gosnell snipped their spines with scissors. Any movement seen by any staff members of babies were simply cadaver reflexes caused by digoxin. He explained that a tiny arm quiver or a shrugging shoulder were questionable testimony and recalled (his) doctor’s autopsy reports that no lungs had breathed in oxygen. But he couldn’t quite explain away the baby that had cried or the one who swam in the toilet so instead he deduced that the person who witnessed it was lying. And he didn’t mention that no traces of digoxin were found in babies.

Gosnell, judging by all his actions, was a man who liked to cut corners. He frequently came into the office late and only after patients had been under dangerous amounts of anesthesia given by staff members who were not licensed. He didn’t like to pay his medical waste bills, so he let body parts collect. His ultrasound machines had been broken for years and he re-used catheters and spread venereal disease by using dirty instruments. When he realized that digoxin was not killing the babies in utero he induced women to into labor let the babies “precipitate” before severing their spines after birth. Why on earth would he feel the need to sever a baby’s spine if it was dead?

At one point- and this was creepy- McMahon put his foot in his mouth and suggested that perhaps Gosnell severed spines to ease the pain. I saw one of the AUL attorneys whip her head towards her colleague. I had the same reaction. Did he really just say that? If a baby is dead he doesn’t feel pain. Did he inadvertently just admit that the babies were in need of pain relief outside the womb?

Isabel was growing re-faced and scribbled on a piece of paper. “This is so stupid! It would be like saying it’s okay to kill somebody as long as they’re sleeping.” I understood her point completely.

McMahon finished his arguments. Listening to him had been difficult. Our spirits were agitated. We were tired. I felt like I had been listening to a crafty devil spin a web of confusion.

We couldn’t stay for the prosecution’s final words and I regret that. I think hearing an impassioned defense of the babies would have helped us feel better or vindicated. Listening to somebody argue that these breathing babies had not been born alive was an insult to our sensibilities. I pray that the jury thought so too.

When we got home I asked my daughters to write down their thoughts. Ironically, Veronica had to write a paper for her bible class on something that makes God cringe so she wrote about the trial. I took this excerpt from her paper to share with you because it shows not only the culpability of the murderer but of those who defend him:
“Throughout the bible, God speaks strongly against those who murder innocent people, which in this scenario would be a child. In Deuteronomy 27:25 it says ‘Cursed be anyone who takes a bribe to shed innocent blood.’ And all the people shall say, ‘Amen.” This verse clearly applies to Gosnell. His bribe was the blood money he received from his job. Working at the abortion clinic was just a way to make quick money for him.

Again in Proverbs 6:16-19 it says “There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.” This verses says it all, God doesn’t just hate what Gosnell was doing. He also hates false witnesses who breathe out lies”.

Isabel also put it very succinctly when she wrote:

“People make such a big deal about shooting and bombs and murders, but why do babies being murdered not count?”

We had a lot to think about and to process last night. I am glad for the experience and so were the girls even if it was a sad one. Sometimes we can grow desensitized to the fight against abortion and see it only as a voter issue. It was good for us to be in the front lines and it made me resolve to be more involved in the battle.

Gosnell was arrested and charged for things that abortionists do every day. The only difference was that Gosnell had stopped any pretense and did his dirty deed out in the open and not hidden inside the walls of the uterus.

Today or tomorrow the jury will deliberate and give a verdict. I ask that you be in prayer about it and I will be as well.

Copyright 2013 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

Finding Grace

How can we ever measure the love in others’ hearts, or truly understand their intentions, when so often we misconstrue their words and actions due to the faults and weaknesses in our own characters? – Laura Pearl, Finding Grace

Those wise words are the thoughts of Grace, the young sweet protagonist in this book, a girl not unlike St Therese of Lisieux, whose name appears quite a few times in the story. I fell in love with Grace, often wishing I were more like her.  Finding Grace is indeed a story infused with the presence of God and faith. It is the perfect book to give your teenage daughter.

The writing is clearly superior and attractive. It’s a story of young Irish-American girl growing up in a beautiful small northern New York State town in the 1960′s and 1970′s.  The setting has a delightful appeal, slightly reminiscent of Beverly Cleary’s lesser-known teen books like The Luckiest Girl and Fifteen, that makes the reader wish it were a real place to visit.

Red-haired Grace Kelly is the youngest girl in a family of all boys, and the apple of her father’s eye. Grace is mortified by her fancy name because she finds herself quite ordinary in comparison to Princess of Monaco and worries that others will do the same. Her father, the epitome of the Irish father-figure: jolly, affable, and with a twinkle in the eye, adores his daughter and makes no apologies for her name.  Grace’s elegant mother is quiet and reserved in comparison, and the relationship in the beginning of the book is a little strained as mother and daughter try to find a comfortable balance.

The story starts out in the summer, before her freshman year at Saint Joseph’s High School, when Grace, an avid bookworm, picks up a book on the saints. Inspired by talks with her father and by the lives of the saints, Grace determines to take up the personal challenge to become a saint.

Finding Grace is a nostalgic coming-of-age chronicle and love story that follows Grace and her best friend Irene, an effortlessly popular and languid beauty, and two boys through high school and beyond.  The culture of Plattsburg is definitely a Catholic one and the town is blessed with many Catholic schools and faithful nuns and a rich sacramental life. Although they are sheltered in their small community, they are not immune to the shifting attitudes that permeated the culture in the 1960’s and 1970’s and each character struggles with his or her own spiritual battles.

Tom, who is new in town, is endowed with natural good looks, physical ability, and a humble spirit.  He finds himself the object of both girls’ affections. His best friend, Sully, is plain in looks but charming and disarmingly witty, not unlike Grace’s father. Will his love for Grace be unrequited?

This book did not follow the typical formula for a love story and I found myself conflicted as to who would be the better choice and intimately drawn into each character’s personal battles. There were tender moments of grace and forgiveness and moments of dark brokenness. Topics like underage drinking, pre-marital sex, teenage pregnancy, abortion and adoption make an appearance throughout the novel. Author Laura Pearl did an excellent job of portraying the good and the sinful sides of each person and revealing very human and relatable characters. The characters had depth and complexity that were completely unpredictable and I loved it. Two thumbs up!

My only aesthetic concern is the book cover which I fear would be passed over in a book store or library. A more modern cover, in the style of teen novels today, would better appeal to the book’s target audience. Perhaps a sharp-looking photograph of the same subject matter (a red-haired girl in a green sweater donning a miraculous medal) would fare much better than the amateurish drawing that was used.

Order Finding Grace and support CatholicMom.com with your purchase

Copyright 2013 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

The Woman Saw that the Tree was Good

We often see depictions of Eve holding a shiny apple and talking to a snake as the single defining moment before the fall of man. We all have thought it.  Oh, if only she would have known! What was it that was so irresistible? When the serpent approached Eve for the classic set-up he asked her if God really told her that she couldn’t eat from any of the trees in the garden. Eve answered him. Maybe I should just stop right there. She not only answered him but she went into a full explanation. Did she ever wonder why she was even being asked or who this most cunning of all animals was? Some translations call him the most “subtle” of all creatures.

When she answered him, it is revealed that she was fully aware of the rules and the consequences that would follow if she broke the rules.  She knew she couldn’t eat or even TOUCH the fruit of the tree in the middle or she would die.  Even if the devil was too crafty for her, she wasn’t left without armor because God had left them with instructions. But we know the serpent challenges these instructions and tells her that if she eats of the tree, her eyes would be opened and that they would be like gods, knowing good and evil. She made her choice.

Before we throw Eve under the bus there is one more thing to consider. Adam was there. Art often portrays Eve alone with a serpent but verse 6 tells us, “…she also gave some to her husband, who was with her”.

Men have a calling to love their wives and lay down their lives for them. This means he must be willing to die for the sake of her salvation. They are created to protect and defend. But in this account, we behold Adam behaving in the complete opposite manner. Instead of putting himself between the serpent and Eve, he watched, perhaps with perverse curiosity, as Eve risked her life!  I believe that is why He had to answer to God first.

On the other hand, women have a certain influence over men because of our beauty and our nature. We can use it for evil or for good.  Men will often take their cues from their wives and either live up to the bar she sets or follow her into sin.

To a great extent the level of any civilization is the level of its womanhood. When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue, the more noble her character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, goodness, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. The history of civilization could actually be written in terms of the level of its women. ~Fulton Sheen

Eve used her influence selfishly so she wouldn’t be alone in her sin. “The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eyes, and desirable for gaining wisdom. So she took some of its fruit and ate it; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.” Gen 3:6 NAB

This verse shows us at which point exactly the woman started trusting her own eyes for what is beautiful and her own appetite for what is food and her own desires before God’s.  She “saw” that the fruit was “good”.  How could she have “seen” what we know was obviously not good?  Some translations have it as “delightful to consider”. Even in her pre-fallen state, she was obviously limited by her human senses to be able to know the depth of everything that is good and bad. That was God’s job. Hers was to trust.

In a way, the devil wasn’t lying, when he promised her that they would be like gods and their eyes would be open to good and evil.  We know that after they did eat it, their eyes were opened, for the first time, but not the way they had understood it. They were opened to corruption and disorder. They opened the door of shame and saw their nakedness. Did this make them like God? Hardly. They became “like God’ only in that they became their own gods.

Isn’t that just like the devil to give a half truth and then stand back and laugh when we fall in the ditch? Sin promises satisfaction but it delivers something else every time. It never disappoints.

Let’s consider the opposite scenario. Abraham was promised children when Sarah was too old to conceive. He accepted this even over his own common sense.  But it got more difficult. He was asked to sacrifice his own son. Some theologians say that maybe Abraham had some understanding of resurrection and was trusting God for this. Whether that is the case or not, we know he took Isaac up to Mount Moriah and was going to obey God even over his own desires. An angel stopped him and God provided a ram in Isaac’s place just like He provided His own son, the Lamb of God, as a sacrifice in our place. See, because of his Abraham’s trust he was blessed. Where Adam’s sin became our sin, Abraham’s blessing became our blessing because from his lineage we were given the Savior.

For what does the scripture say? “Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness. Romans 4:3 NAB

Herein lies the lesson. God asks us to believe what we cannot see or fully understand. He asks us to trust Him even over ourselves, to trust Him even over our own intellect, our senses or appetites. Every time we choose ourselves we are saying that we know better and that is our nakedness.   But He is a good God and He promises something better if we trust.

“But as it is written: What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard,   and what has not entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him” 1 Corinthians 2:9 NAB

Copyright 2013 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

Josette Puig

As we all know, January 1^st is an infamous time of year for making New Year’s resolutions. The most common resolutions most often have to do with weight loss and cleaner eating habits. So many of us are dissatisfied with what we have allowed to become habits and it shows. Come January, we make rigid resolutions to detox, eat clean,  get gym memberships and enlist in boot camps. We go at it full speed ahead until, sooner or later, the changes are overwhelming to sustain and we fizzle out.

It doesn’t have to be that way. Changes don’t have to be an overnight shock to the system. They can be very small and systematic but have a huge impact.

I had the pleasure of interviewing author of Frumpy To Fabulous. One Change a Week to a Healthier You Josette Puig.  Josette is also a Fitness Contributor for “The Doctors” Show, has made  television appearances on CBS Morning Show, TeleMundo, Style Boston, WBZ, Spokesperson for Boston Sports Clubs,  Shape-Up America Campaign, Fitness Model QVC and TurboFire Infomercial Success Story (Beachbody). Josette’s specialty is to help and motivate others make small changes with big results. As a divorced mother of 4, Josette can relate to every excuse people use to not make lifestyle changes.

Josette. I know you had four children close together and struggled with baby weight and fad diets for many years. What was your break through?

It was 2003 and I was a stay-at-home-mom of 4 young children. I was 40 pounds overweight and dealing with post partum depression. I was sick & tired of being sick & tired and knew I had to make real and permanent changes. I’d done EVERY diet program out there and was feeling very overwhelmed with life in general. Every time I asked my doctor all he did was up change my antidepressant or up my dose. This was not the picture of motherhood I had envisioned, I wanted more for myself, for my children and for my marriage.

I’d recently read an article about creating habits in 21 days. It sounded simple enough so I figured since my life is so crazy raising 4 kids and still nursing my youngest, I’m going to commit to making one change a week. On New Year’s Day 2004 I sat with a calendar and a Sharpie pen and made my first change to switch my coffee creamer to skim milk. Every Sunday after that, I added another change. By April I’d lost over 30 pounds and was off antidepressants by October.

Frumpy to Fabulous

As a nutritionist and fitness expert what would you advise us busy moms who want to get fit but are overwhelmed?

Make small changes you know you can realistically achieve. Keep in mind that you are also teaching your children lifestyle habits. That was one of my biggest inspirations and the reason I wrote my book Frumpy To Fabulous. One Change a Week to a Healthier You.

I knew if I was going to talk the talk, I had to walk the walk. It’s our jobs as parents to teach them skills from the time they’re born. We focus on eating schedules, sleep time, brushing teeth and flossing, daily baths. We should be also teaching them fitness and nutrition as a lifestyle  and not just to strive to fit into a pair of jeans or crash diets for special occasions like so many women do. It is our responsibility to teach our children to take control of their health and well-being and not leave it up to doctors and pills to cover up illness and obesity. It’s that simple.

But as a mother of four HOW is it possible to keep fit, make the meals, and do the homework and everything that comes with mothering? What would you advise moms with big families who can’t afford to join a gym or have no time?

The key is to Keep It Simple! My children eat dinner right after school at 3 o’clock. This eliminates the nonsense snacks and fuels them properly for their after school activities. And when I was married they would have a snack while their father ate dinner after work. This allowed us all to sit at the dinner table and catch up with our day without dealing with a messy kitchen, homework and bedtime all at once. As for the fitness component, there are so many great DVDs, Wii workouts and On Demand exercises you can do. I have plenty of videos on how to turn daily home chores into workouts too. You can find them free on my website www.getjosette.com.

You don’t need to grueling workouts to get results like you see on these reality shows. It’s 80% what you eat and only 20% exercise! Your kitchen is your REAL gym. What you put in your mouth can give you life or suck the life out of you.  On the flipside, you cannot out  train a bad diet either.  No matter how hard you workout, it will make no difference if you’re eating badly.

I believe in eating real food. If it rots, it’s good for you. You get to a point in life, especially women, where we don’t lose weight the way we used to before having children. Hormonal changes are the biggest component here and there comes a point in everyone’s life when your hormones decide they’ve had enough of your C.R.A.P. (Crazy diets. Refined sugars. Artificial sweeteners. Processed food.)

And the way they let you know is by gaining weight in places you never did before. This is them telling you, “STOP FEEDING ME C.R.A.P. or I’LL MAKE YOU SICK & FAT!” I still enjoy a treat meal a week. A sweet a week is a treat. A sweet a day is a habit.

As a fellow Cuban American you know I’m biased and I love your sassy Latina style!  Our readers might not know this but you are bilingual and your book is published in both Spanish and English.

Yes, the Spanish translation of my book is called De Descuidada A Fabulosa . And I offer services in both languages.

There is so much you have to offer that can’t be covered in a short interview. I know many people want to be further educated on clean eating.  Where can they go to get FREE sound nutrition/ exercise advice if they want?

Thank you and you can find me on Facebook on my GetJosette page or follow me on twitter @getjosette. And of course plenty of great videos, recipes and tips on my free website http://getjosette.com/en.  My “Handcuffed To Josette” is a very popular online service. http://getjosette.com/en/services

Thank you so much for your time. I know so many will be helped. Any final thoughts?

I was overweight but learned to nourish my body.
I was depressed but learned to nourish my emotions.
I was lost but learned to nourish my soul.

Copyright 2013 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

Confessions of a Sloth

I have a confession to make. I struggle with sloth. I’m embarrassed to even admit. But I am even more plagued by guilt as I watch my lovely husband rotate the laundry or make the kids lunches or set his alarm in the mornings to make sure we don’t sleep in. It’s a routine we have fallen into and I really like it. Yes, I know there is nothing wrong with splitting up the work load. But, I admit that I take advantage of it. He is such a giving person and I am sure he is weary of picking up my slack.

Then there are the kids. So often I resent the interruption of my children when I am doing something really important- like updating my Facebook status.  How many times have I delegated to my older children something I could have easily done but chose not to out of laziness? How many times have I skipped making dinner because I didn’t feel like it? What am I teaching them?

This sloth-problem bleeds into other areas of my life. I go through episodes where I get up early and make it to daily mass.  I am happiest during those moments when I put God first. But, inevitably, my good intentions fall to the wayside. It’s hard to get up early.

And there is more, I can completely relate to the habit of distracting myself (and blaming it on ADD) to avoid the task at hand. There are days at work that I check and re-check my email to put off making dreaded phone calls or use my work time to print out school forms or browse recipes.

I know most of us can relate to this feeling, but, in the back of my mind I suspect that there might be more to it than that. I suspect that these moments of falling off the bandwagon are really a symptom of a bigger underlying problem

Today I decided  to face my demon so I did what I always do. I googled. When I typed in the word “sloth” a psychology blog entry popped up about vices and virtues but, what caught my eye, was the distinction the synopsis made about the difference between laziness and sloth. “Oh good,” I thought “This will prove once and for all that I’m not really slothful, I just am too hard on myself.”

To my dismay, it described me so much that I could have written it myself!

Psychology Today Blogger Michael Austin writes on the book Glittering Vices; A New Look at the Seven Deadly Sins and Their Remedies:

“Here, I’ll focus on the treatment of the vice of sloth given in the book. We tend to think of it as mere inactivity, or mere laziness. What’s really wrong, after all, with camping out on the couch on a Sunday afternoon and watching hours of sporting events or movies? Perhaps nothing. This may be slothful, but it may not be. This is because sloth is not equivalent to laziness. Konyndyk DeYoung states that sloth “can show itself in the total inertia of the couch potato or the restless distractions of endless activity” (p. 95). But why think this?

The primary reason has to do with the true nature of sloth, which is defined in this book as resistance to the transformative demands of God’s love. (For those not in this religious tradition, it could be the demands of love for one’s spouse, children, and community, though these are related of course to the demands of God’s love for the theist). Now we are in a position to see why sloth can be shown via inertia or endless activity. When we avoid fulfilling the demands of love, this can occur via laziness. It can also occur by keeping ourselves busy, distracted, going from activity to activity as a way of avoiding the hard work of loving others.

This is why sloth is a moral vice.  Sloth prevents us from fully engaging in relationships of love and sacrifice with other people. And it is in these sorts of relationships that we can find deep fulfillment.”

(www.psychologytoday.com/blog/ethics-everyone/…/the-vice-sloth)

There it was in black and white. I am too lazy to LOVE. My perpetual procrastination really translates into the resistance to the transformative demands of God’s love… the demands of my spouse or children to avoid the hard work of loving others.  It is work to love others. It requires SACRIFICE. And, frankly, I hate sacrifice. 

Sloth.  At this point I’m not sure if it falls into vice or capital sin in my life but I know it makes me unhappy. All this avoiding work makes me feel dissatisfied at the end of the day. It’s a bad feeling to think you have wasted all God’s attempts to give you grace. For what? What am I aiming for when I avoid work? Is it physical comfort? I’m not sure.

I envy those people whose good work ethics seem to come effortlessly and naturally. But it doesn’t matter. Virtue is a habit, and habits are something we have to form.

I looked up “virtue” in the CCC and this is what is reads:

1804 Human virtues are firm attitudes, stable dispositions, habitual perfections of intellect and will that govern our actions, order our passions, and guide our conduct according to reason and faith. They make possible ease, self-mastery, and joy in leading a morally good life. The virtuous man is he who freely practices the good.

The moral virtues are acquired by human effort. They are the fruit and seed of morally good acts; they dispose all the powers of the human being for communion with divine love.

It made me feel better to see that virtues are acquired by human EFFORT. I want to love my family better and be a source of rest for my husband. So, guess who is making lunches tonight?

Copyright 2012 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

As I drove to work that day and mentally planned the activities, I was aware that it had been a long time since I acknowledged my own guardian angel.  I offered up a quick prayer and apology and got to wondering about what his name might be. I remember a friend once told me that there was a speaker or visionary she went to see once who could tell people the name of their guardian angels and I remember thinking that it was rubbish. There was no way of testing it and, anyway, why would God give somebody else the name of YOUR guardian angel. Maybe I’m not being fair, but it seemed unlikely and felt a little indulgent.

When I got to a stop light my thoughts carried me back to my own guardian angel.

Alonso.

Randomly, that’s what my next thought was and I laughed to myself. Alonso? What about it? That couldn’t be my guardian angel’s name. That’s like a cheap version of Alfonso or Alphonsus.  I was glad that nobody could hear what goes on in my mind.  It would be like be to come up with a name like that. Guardian angels should have cool names that nobody knows like Anja or Osmid or whatever.  Obviously, I have been making too many phone calls to Latin America at work and Hispanic names have seeped into my subconscious.

As I sat at my desk to work that morning I got my papers ready and logged unto my computer to see what banks  I would be cold calling that day. As I pulled up my tasks, the name of my first contact popped up on my screen. Alonso Jimenez.  The skin on my scalp got goose bumps.  This was too much of a coincidence but Alonso? Really?

I jumped unto a baby name web site for the meaning of Alonso. I discovered that it is a derivative of Alfonso, which is a Spanish or Italian form a Visigoth Germanic name meaning-  get this- “Ready for battle” or “noble and ready” (for battle).  The name took on a whole new meaning at that moment. That was the clincher for me. How perfectly appropriate! Of course, my angel is ready for battle at any moment for my sake! Maybe Alonso wasn’t so ridiculous.

I felt honored, cherished, and valuable, kind of like a princess passing through a dark forest in a carriage surrounded and protected by her knights. More importantly, the realization that my angel has to be ready for battle must mean that there is somebody on the prowl waiting to make his attack. I offered up a prayer of gratitude to “Alonso”.

I was aware of “Alonso” for the rest of the day and ever since then, especially when I was tempted to take a few Keurig cups from the office supply to use at home later. (I didn’t)

Later that day I shared my experience with my 6^th graders and they didn’t think I was crazy. They had a great time naming their angels and then looking up the meanings. This activity carried over into my home at dinnertime and my kids named their angels; Josie (He will Multiply) Felix (Happiness) and Eric (Prince). We all felt the graces of their feast day but there was more.

The next day Susie came home and asked, “Mom, what does Skylar mean?”

I realized she had been telling her friends at school about guardian angels and I was pleased.

“Why”” I asked.

“Because my friend Sarah told me Skylar is her angel’s name”

We looked it up and, again, I was amazed to find out that the name means “protected” or “guarded”. This was too much and I had to call Sarah’s mom to tell her. I wasn’t sure how it would be received.  I know Evangelicals believe in angels but I wasn’t sure if they had a specific understanding about guardian angels.

She was in awe and explained to me that every morning she had been praying Psalm 91 over her children. She also told me that she has been meeting regularly with another 2^nd grade mother to pray over the class every Thursday because the girls in the class were always fighting. Their specific prayer every Thursday is “that God would send his angels down and surround 2^nd grade and not let any evil in!”

“Hmmmm,” she joked, “I wonder if Skylar is a sign that God is letting me know that He is listening. So awesome! Love Him.”

Psalm 91:11

For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways;
 they will lift you up in their hands,
    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
 You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

God’s Favorite Fruit

One day I was struggling with my laziness in regards to prayer and scripture reading and my inability to stick to any devotion long enough and I argued with God,

“Yes, I know we are supposed to know you, to love you and to serve you.  And I know that in order to know you I should read the bible. But really, am I ever going to know you like I know my kids or my husband? I mean, I know what kind of sandwich Rick likes and what color Susie loves but will I ever know these little things about you by reading the bible? I mean if we’re going to be friends I think you need to give me a little more, don’t you think?”

And then I dared God, “Help me out here. Tell me what your favorite fruit is. I think you owe me that.” I felt instantly ridiculous and guilty. Was I putting God to the test? But I felt stubborn, too.  And I decided to give him till the end of the day.

I didn’t see any obvious signs of fruit that day and felt sheepish and embarrassed as I said my lip-service prayers that night.  I had obviously taken liberties by talking to God that way, but I still felt let-down. I told Him so and I dozed off to sleep…

As I slipped into half-consciousness, an image popped in my head of my Wendy’s salad from lunch earlier that day with an emphasis on the pomegranate salad dressing. I was completely surprised that I remembered what kind of dressing it had been since my memory for detail is terrible. (I would have guessed it was raspberry vinaigrette.)  And then I knew. God was handing me a clue! You know that feeling of understanding that God gives you sometimes that’s not in words but suddenly infused into your consciousness? Well, that’s how it was. I knew the answer. It was pomegranate. And I could just picture Jesus sitting down maybe under a tree and breaking open the fruit and popping the seeds into his mouth.  I smiled and fell asleep.

Of course I never told anybody or ever planned to tell anybody about my crazy mental games with God. It was enough that we had this thing between us.  I did start to doubt it. Do pomegranates even grow in the region where Jesus grew up? I would have to look it up later.

And when I did, what I discovered astounded me.  In my research the fruit quickly became something more than just Christ’s favorite snack. I found that not only did it grow in the Middle East where Jesus grew up but that the pomegranate is INCREDIBLY meaningful to the Jews.

In Exodus 28:33-34 God commanded that images of pomegranates be woven into the hem of the me’il (“robe of ephod”), a robe worn by the Hebrew High Priest in three different colors! Pomegranates can also be found in the Bible in 1 Kings 7:13-22, where the fruit is depicted on the capitals of the two pillars which stood in front of the temple King Solomon built in Jerusalem. King Solomon is said to have designed his crown based on the “crown” of the pomegranate. The significance of the Jewish pomegranate is further exemplified by its appearance on ancient coins of Judea, one of only a few images that appear as a holy symbol.

Jewish tradition teaches that the pomegranate is a symbol of righteousness because it is said to have 613 seeds, which corresponds with the 613 mitzvot, or commandments, of the Torah. For this reason and others, it is customary to eat pomegranates on Rosh Hashanah. Moreover, the pomegranate represents fruitfulness, knowledge, learning, and wisdom.

Interestingly, many Jewish scholars believe that the pomegranate was the “forbidden fruit” of the Garden of Eden. Furthermore, the pomegranate is listed in the Bible as one of the seven species (shivat haminim) of fruits and grains that are special products of the Land of Israel.

(source: jewishgiftplace.com/symbolism-of-pomegranate.html)

If that didn’t convince me, I was even more amazed to discover that depictions of the fruit are a symbol of resurrection and life everlasting in Christian art, In fact, the pomegranate is often found in devotional statues and paintings of the Virgin and Child. I did a quick google image search and, sure enough,  found lovely paintings of the Madonna and Christ Child with Jesus often holding a pomegranate in his baby hands!

To those scholarly Christians more knowledgeable than I, this might be a “no duh” moment, but to me, completely ignorant of the symbolism of the pomegranate, it was an incredibly beautiful thing to come upon. This beautiful ruby-colored fruit that almost resembles a sacred heart will never ever be the same for me. In fact, I have contemplated making it MY favorite fruit!

Copyright 2012 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

José Sánchez del Río

It comes as no surprise to say that we are living in uncertain political times, where we fear for the loss of our liberties and the future of our country. I will go as far as to say that evil is being called good and good is being called evil. Catholics are being bullied by the Obama administration with the threat of losing our precious religious liberty with the passing of the HHS mandate. Not surprisingly, the mandate is proposed falsely by the media as “progress” for women’s health while painting the Bishops’ leadership in this Fortnight For Freedom as an archaic attempt to suppress women.

It is important to remember, however, that there is nothing new under the sun and that we already have the victory through Christ. Many have gone before us in the face of persecution. In fact, some of the boldest of those who stood in the face of tyranny- even unto death – were very young.

The movie For Greater Glory could not have come at a better time. There was a dark time in Mexico’s history where the Catholic Church underwent one of her fiercest persecutions in history ever. Mexican President Plutarco Elias Calle was of the same arrogant mindset that progress meant to “defanaticize” the country (ie. to destroy the Catholic Church) and he passed laws outlawing monastic religious orders, forbade public worship and savagely executed countless of priests and Catholics all in the name of progress.

But the people fought back and created the Cristeros- an army for Christ. Among the Cristeros was a boy by the name of José Sánchez del Río. He was around 14 years old at the time of his martyrdom. He would beg his mother to let him fight with the Cristeros. Eventually she allowed him to be the flag bearer. During battle he was captured when he gave his horse away to a general who’s horse had been killed. Calle’s soldiers promised his release if he chose to denounce Christ, which he refused. They forced him to watch the execution of a fellow Cristero but José responded by encouraging his friend telling him they would see each other again in heaven. In response, the soldiers cut the bottoms of his feet, cut him with a machete, stabbed him with bayonets and forced him to march to his grave but, still, he refused to denounce Christ shouting only, “Viva Cristo Rey!” Finally am enraged commander shot him in the head.

This was not the first nor will it be tha last time the Church is hated. Hitler shared a similar deadly anti clerical agenda. He took it a step further and shrewdly targeted youth first, knowing that by extinguishing every religious organization or youth group except for his own nefarious Hitler Youth, he could control a generation to mold to his idea of “progress”. We know that he banished and mass murdered priests and religious along with Jews.

During these times, there were some brave youths who refused to be brain washed. In my readings of the Hitler Youth I came across the story of Sophie Scholl, a girl who was influenced by the writings of Cardinal John Henry Newman on the dignity of persons. She discovered her brother, Hans, and two of his friends had started the underground group called The White Rose. She joined them in distributing antiwar leaflets during Nazi Germany in secret despite the threat to their lives. They were eventually captured and beheaded. But during their phony court trials they continued to fearlessly speak up and challenge the Fuehrer and his lies. Both marched to their deaths with heads held high that people marveled at their courage.

Helmuth Hϋbener

I also read the story of 3 teens; Helmuth Hϋbener, Rudi Wobbe and Karl Schnibbe. Like the Scholls, they purchased a duplicating machine and created anti Hitler leaflets exposing the lies and murders of the Third Reich. At night they would sneak them in mail boxes and public places. They vowed that if one of them got caught they would not expose the others. Eventually Helmuth was arrested and so were the other two. They were held in solitary confinement for 6 months and repeatedly tortured and beaten but Helmuth bravely resisted to the end taking the majority of the blame unto himself and thus preserving the lives of his two friends. He was beheaded at the age of seventeen and the other two sentenced to long prison terms.

We should not be discouraged or even surprised at the trials we face to hold on to our religious freedom. Evil knows that by targeting religion- especially that pesky truth-telling Catholicism, it has an easier time silencing the conscience. But like a buoyant object held under water, truth has a habit of always rising up no matter how fiercely it is pressed or weighed down. (As I type this, it brings to mind Truth Himself and the Resurrection. Even death could not keep him “under”). We must not lose hope. Instead let us follow the example and inspiration of these stories and resolve to be no less bold than these children in our fight.

Viva Cristo Rey!

Copyright 2012 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

We were luckier than most because we only lost power for a few hours and passed the time affably. The children rode sleds outside or stayed indoors and colored and read. As the sky grew dark the last few came inside and we gathered around the fireplace with our dinner and blankets. The house grew very dark and, inevitably, as fireside gatherings go, the ghost stories began.

In his usual fashion, my husband began a story benignly enough. There was a haunted house and a pond. To my chagrin, the story grew more sinister and there was murder by drowning, an unsolved mystery and, of course, a ghost. As he told the story, he pretended to have been body snatched by the ghost. Our teenagers egged him on, absolutely thrilled. The younger kids and I, however, begged Daddy to stop. His token answer? “I am not your Daddy. I am The Ghost of the Pond.” Our pleadings went ignored.

As the story ensued, Rick, who had suddenly become “Daddy” again, heard a noise upstairs and announced that he was going to check it out. I groaned. I knew what this meant.

I must preface by explaining that, my husband, Rick, loves to spook me and the kids by turning out the lights and hiding in corners sometimes. On this occasion, he had the perfect set up. The power outage had ensured that there was not a single room we could escape to and turn lights back on. The whole house was his playground. We were completely at his mercy.

It is a mental game. I have learned that I must not show any weakness and bravely pretend that I’m bored by his antics. If it doesn’t discourage him, sometimes we tag team him and [try to] wrestle him to the ground while another turns on the lights.

Sounds of struggle and screams came from upstairs. Rick made a big show of hooting and hollering and slamming into walls to sound as though he were being attacked by a gang of robbers. The hysteria mounted downstairs and my youngest, Susie, clung to me and begged me to pray to make him stop. I was completely exasperated at that point and had little hope of making him stop. But I couldn’t say no to prayer. So I tried to pray over the noise, “God, PLEASE STOP THIS NONSENSE!”

Around the same time, their Daddy had decided to continue his spectacle by practically throwing himself down the short flight of steps into the den where we all huddled together in his mock attack. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the power instantly went back on and we were showered in light. My husband suddenly looked awfully silly.

There was a stunned moment when we all realized that God had literally pulled the plug on Rick’s show exposing him as nothing more than their dad just making a lot of noise. The kids started cheering. My prayer had worked. God beat the bogey man!! I was struck by the hilarity of God’s timing and couldn’t stop laughing. Even Rick was amazed and felt a little sheepish, bless his heart.

As I reflected on this later, still chuckling to myself, it brought to mind a deeper truth. The real bogeyman, Satan, tries to makes us afraid so often. In our fear he can control us by paralyzing us into not acting or speaking. In truth, he is nothing but smoke and mirrors and a phony. If we are children of God, we have nothing to fear.

For there is nothing hidden which shall not be made manifest; nor does any secret thing take place, but that it should come to light. Mark 4:22

Copyright 2012 Victoria Gisondi

These words have been a popular exclamation in my home time and time again. God is so deeply involved in our daily cares that I am sometimes surprised when people don’t have eyes to see  it or refuse to “bother” God with mundane prayers for things like parking spots or lost keys and therefore miss the opportunity to see His love. Somehow by grace, this little habit of noticing little favors and graces granted to us by God out loud by exclaiming “See, Jesus love me/you!” stuck with me and eventually stuck with my children. Yes, Jesus loves me!

What amazes me even more is when I see God working in my children’s lives DESPITE me. Let me explain:

One time my preschooler was attending her older siblings’ field day at school. She wanted to stay to the end because that’s when the school handed out ice pops to all the kids. Things were going well until my daughter said something disrespectful as a teacher walked by. The teacher was surprised by it. (This was all reported to me second hand by her older sister). I was embarrassed and decided that we would leave before the ice pops were distributed as a punishment. My daughter cried so despairingly as I picked her up and buckled her into the carseat that it surprised me. It wasn’t until she had caught her breath enough to explain what happened that I realized it had been a huge misunderstanding. I had never even thought to question the occurrence but acted immediately. I felt terrible but not enough to turn around.  All this fuss for an ice pop? I don’t know why but I was inspired to say to her, “Listen, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Just pray and Jesus will provide you with an ice pop.”

I know I am a wicked and lazy mother. But God is not.  She took a nap and the pop was soon forgotten by us. But, of course, not by God. That evening I got a phone call from my mother who wanted to stop by for dinner. When she pulled up to the house she honked in her customary manner and we helped her get some things out of the trunk that she had purchased for the kids. The last thing she pulled out was an entire case of, you guessed it, ice pops!  Amazed, I quickly ran to get Susie to show her. She was thrilled and I kept saying “See?! Jesus loves you!” ( even when your own mother is rotten). I was as excited as she was that God loved her enough to bless her with her ice pops- a whole case of them. Moreover, I was personally touched at  how God was just and blessed her  DESPITE my injustice and despite ME. It brings tears to my eyes as I remember it.

These things have happened in my home time and time again so I was surprised one day to hear my husband echo my own words to me. That’s not to say he didn’t embrace our family motto, but he had always been a a quiet observer and I never thought he gave the matter much thought.

We were at his Baptist church one morning picking seats near the front to see the children sing some Christmas songs for the parents. I was happy that we had found seats near the front until I realized  we were on the wrong side of the church and the kids would be filing out and singing from the steps at the opposite end of the church. That’s what they had done the previous year and that’s why the seats had been too easy to find. I grumbled something to my husband and we were both slightly disappointed.

The service started and soon the kids started filing out. To my surprise, they kept on walking right past the steps and marched over to our side of the church and stopped directly in front of us. They were so close I could see up their noses! (ok, not really) My husband smiled and turned to me and said, “See? Jesus loves you!”

Copyright 2012 Victoria Gisondi

I used to speed. Not dangerously but faster than the speed limit. First of all I never really looked at my spedometer and secondly, I had the notion that speed limits where sort of just…nice but optional. Every once in a while I was conscious that I had surprisingly never made it a habit to look at my spedometer or go below 35 miles an hour but then I would shrug it off. I wasnt a dare-devil speeder that endangers lives. That’s who the cops go after. I figured most normal citizens drive the way I do otherwise I would have gotten a ticket by now.

My attitude seeped into my job. When I became a school bus driver, I prided myself on getting the kids to school on time and maybe even some minutes before the bell. There was always a line-up of buses in front of the school entrance. If your bus was at the end of that line, the kids inevitably arrived later than their counterparts and grumbled that they would miss First Bell. Well, my kids would not miss first bell! In order to do this I had to drive at a…well, let’s just call it a “quick pace”.

Once when I was driving my bus route on a busy back road, I caught sight of some parents at the end of a driveway most likely waiting for another school bus. A dad motioned me with his hands to slow down. Was he talking to me? What a grump! Some people just love to complain!

Another time the director of transportation of the school called me. Apparently somebody in one of the neighborhoods where I made a stop called to complain about my speed. The director was very kind and gently relayed the news to me but, I was stung. I wasn’t going THAT fast. What kind of namby pamby goes out of her way to write down a bus number, look up the school in the directory and complain about a school bus driver? Somebody with no time on their hands, that’s for sure. We bus drivers are the good guys. We have schedules to adhere to. We get kids to school before First Bell. Some people!

Some family and friends were tickled by my new job as a bus driver and I would often get reports from people who spotted me. My brother-in-law had spotted a yellow school bus, he once told me. The bus was coming from the opposite direction. He was making a left and figured he had plenty of time to turn before the bus approached him. He started to turn slightly and halted. He had been mistaken. There was definitely no window of opportunity to make a left (unless he wanted to die). He glanced up as the bus whizzed by and he saw what he described as a driver on a mission, shoulders hunched forward and vision straight ahead. Then he realized that driver was me.

After this story was relayed to me I started wondering if maybe I did have a problem. Worse, I wondered if I had put my students’ lives in danger by my OCD tendency to have the kids to school no later than 8:05. I was now aware and a seed was planted. I started slowing down a but not totally.But at that time, I was not fully cured.

My career took a different turn (pun intended) and I no longer drive a bus but kept my CDL current. Last year I was driving down main street on my way to morning mass. Main Street is lined with pesky annoying 25 MPH signs. I have lived in this town for over twleve years and never once been stopped for going a little faster than the exaggeratedly-slow request of 25 MPH. I didn’t have to rationalize at all. I simply didn’t pay attention to my spedometer and drove at a comfortable speed. My husband’s car did something strange then. Apparently some fancy cars actually talk to you when there is an engine problem or low tire pressue. The car was warning me of low tire pressure and possibly a flat tire. Technology is amazing. My attention was devoted to the warning displayed on the dashboard screen when suddenly flashing lights in my rearview mirror stole my attention. Some poor guy was being pulled over. Wait, that cop was following me! I was being pulled over. I couldn’t believe it.

When the police officer asked for the registration cards I was such a nervous mess that I didn’t know where my husband kept his information. The cop told me, on a hunch, to look in the glove compartment. There they were. I tried not to cry. Some friend you are, I argued internally with God. Is this the way you treat somebody who is heading to mass? The cop took my license and turned it over. You drive a bus, he asked. Yes, I told him, hoping this would show him what a good citizen I am. It was a white lie. I didnt currently drive a bus, but I could if I was asked to. I mean, people like me dont get speeding tickets. Maybe the fancy car made him think I was stuck-up and had ideas that I was above the law but now that he saw my devotion to the children of the world by being a bus driver, he would go easy on me. I didn’t get out of a 90 dollar ticket but the police man showed me some mercy and I didnt get any points due to my CDL. Of course, I wasn’t gratfeul at that moment until a coworker explained to me that it could have been much worse and how unsual it is to not get points for speeding 20 miles over the speed limit.

I drove to mass even though I was late. All the while I cried. My pride was hurt. My feelings were hurt. My ego was bruised. But I will say this, after that day I was cured. I now check my spedometer often and I could tell you the speed limit on most streets in my hood. Ok, I am not sinless and might go 20 MPH when it says 15 but I keep it real. But being “cured” of my need for speed is more than just having a fear of law enoforcement. Something sunk in and I marvel at how naive I was to think that my car was always under my complete control. What if i was going 35 MPH in a neighborhood and a kid darted out in front of me? What if had slammed into my brother-in-law that day and killed him? It’s as though God gently and gradually impressed upon me something important and was gracious enough not to let me hurt anybody during the learning process. That’s just His way.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Gisondi

“Mom, did you wait?”

I told her the truth. Not only did I NOT wait till my wedding night to have sex for the first time but I lived a very promiscuous life which caused me much grief and sadness.  I told her God’s desire for her was that she would have more in life.

Back then, we didn’t have Theology of the Body for teens or fabulous chastity speakers.  Our understanding of sex was all about avoidance of hell had nothing to do with understanding the reflection of God’s amazing love in uniting our flesh with another’s in a reflection of the trinity.  There was no Theology of the Body for Teens.

And yet, although I could my best to explain to my daughters that sex outside of God’s  plan for marriage is just a counterfeit, what was truly missing from my life was simply a question of TRUST and RELATIONSHIP.

You see, I had completely forgotten that my life was created to be in relationship with HIM and that if I surrendered  to Him, He would take care of the details- even down to preparing the man that would one day be my husband.

“Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all his righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you.”

See, the biggest lie Satan tells teenage girls is that they are missing out. They are “missing  out” when they don’t have a boyfriend and all their friends do. Satan tells girls that a boy’s “love” will fill a void in their heart and make them enviable and beautiful.

What nobody tells girls is that if she seeks Christ’s love FIRST she will be pursued by the lover of lovers beyond her wildest dreams and enter into the most exciting relationship of her life.  Seriously.  I don’t know if I would have believed that Christ would be as satisfying, as romantic, as handsome and as real-flesh as a boyfriend. Nobody ever told me. And so I imagined being “good” as a stoic pursuit of “not doing” and all that was un-fun and I failed.

If I had known it was as easy as falling in love with God and living my vocation as daughter, student and sister, the rest would play itself out. I wish my mother had told me that God had my life mapped out for my good down to the smallest detail if I would just stay in His will and trust Him; that His plan for me would be better than the one I could formulate on my own and that if I kept myself pure I would know much joy peace.

So, yes, besides the bad consequences of sin, we need to convince our daughters  to have a relationship with Christ that is constantly nourished by prayer, by EUCHARIST and adoration.  As I write this I am painfully aware of how much I have been avoiding my own relationship with my greatest love, Jesus . So, let me reiterate, the best way to show our daughters is by doing it ourselves first, by example.

Copyright 2011 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

I wish everybody knew this. My biggest frustration is running into Christians who have very flawed or biased information about Catholicism. They are usually educated in evangelical circles and have a good knowledge of scripture- or rather, a great memory for scripture verses. I say this because time and time again, I find that the scripture they have been spoon-fed since birth is mostly eisegesis. The bible was never meant to be interpreted by verse but as a whole.

In some churches I have personally witnessed a lot of time spent on explaining what a bible verse does NOT mean as opposed to what it DOES mean with the sole agenda of disproving Catholic doctrine. Verses that are pretty obvious at face value are taken out context and explained away. One typical example is the Bread of Life discourse in John 6 or the need for baptism for salvation.

I recently crossed paths with a fundamentalist who was so vehemently opposed to the Catholicism she warned me of my impending doom if I continued to trust in the “traditions of sinful men”. Somehow she had the mistaken notion that the Catholic church must be a result of many man-made traditions none of which originate in scripture.

There is truly a disconnect there. First of all, she is confusing erroneous human traditions for Apostolic Tradition. The CCC defines tradition this way:

#81 “Sacred Scripture is the speech of God as it is put down in writing under the breath of the Holy Spirit.” And [Holy] Tradition transmits in its entirety the Word of God which has been entrusted to the apostles by Christ the Lord and the Holy Spirit. It transmits it to the successors of the apostles so that, enlightened by the Spirit of truth, they may faithfully preserve, expound, and spread it abroad by their preaching.

#82 As a result the Church, to whom the transmission and interpretation of Revelation is entrusted, “does not derive her certainty about all revealed truths from the Holy Scriptures alone. Both Scripture and Tradition must be accepted and honored with equal sentiments of devotion and reverence.”

#83 The Tradition here in question comes from the apostles and hands on what they received from Jesus’ teaching and example and what they learned from the Holy Spirit. The first generation of Christians did not yet have a written New Testament, and the New Testament itself demonstrates the process of living Tradition.

The disconnect is that she was using the very bible that was SAFEGUARDED by the Tradition of the Catholic church and declared canonical by the authority of bishops (through the Holy Spirit) to try and DISprove the need for the Catholic Church or the priesthood or bishops or Tradition or anything but the bible alone. That’s like saying to a child that his mother was irrelevant in bringing him into the world. A child without a mother is an orphan and herein lies the problem.

An orphan has to make his own way in the world. He has nobody to turn to for guidance and for authority. He makes his own way. He may be a good child but a misguided child who has lost his family history.

When Christ promised not to leave us orphans he meant to leave us a VISIBLE church- a mother; a visible authority, guidance and protection. He said He would build his church on Peter. We do not think Peter built the church. We do not rely on the “traditions of sinful men”. We believe it is the Holy Spirit’s power safeguarding Christ’s teaching to us. We know that if it were up to mere men our faith would have been lost long ago. But because Christ promised that not even the gates of Hades would have power of this protection- that this protection was under “lock and key” we know we can trust in His promise.

If Christ not leaving us orphans by sending the Spirit to guide us only meant that each denomination had to fend for themselves and trust that they alone have the correct interpretation of what the Holy Spirit has revealed as truth, He could have skipped over this whole “scene” with Peter and gone straight to Pentecost. It can’t be every man/church for himself. As we can see, this is very problematic. Does the Holy Spirit teach one church that infant baptism is ok and then another that it is not? Sure, they will say that those things are nonessential or don’t matter but that doesn’t fly. He meant for us to be “one” as He and His father are one.

Christ prayed in a very strong way for unity in His church. He gave us a visible head. He gave us “Peter the Rock” ,not “Peter the Pebble”. The rock is Christ IN Peter, not Peter himself or Peter’s statement of faith. Peter’s authority is evident throughout scriptures particularly in the circumcision dispute.Once Peter spoke the issue was settled. After Christ revealed Himself to Paul, Paul went first to Peter to get “okayed” as an apostle. There is a reason for that. When Christ says something, He means it.

Paul knew without doubt that it was Christ who had appeared to Him but he went to Peter in obedience. Jesus knew he did not need baptism but He went to John to get baptized in obedience. Mary was not impure but went to perform the cleansing ritual after Christ’s birth in obedience.

What happens when we don’t obey our parents? We learn things the hard way. In throwing out Tradition and holding only on to Scripture only you have kicked out one leg of a stool and it won’t stand. Scripture alone is like that orphan looking through old family photo albums without his mother to tell him who his Uncle Benny was and what really happened in the Fourth of July family photo. He has only his best guess and vague memory to help him remember. How can somebody know for sure what the authors of scripture intended without the assurance of that Tradition that passed it down to us?

Be thankful today for the gift of Mother Church who shows us the surest way to go and guides us safely, not coincidentally like our Mother, Mary, who does the same. Be thankful for both Tradition and the holy Scriptures that have been kept intact because of the promise of our Father. Be thankful for the safekeeping of our family album of Saints- our true relatives who have not been separated by death because we are one Body. Not only are we NOT orphans but our family is HUGE. We are so blessed!

Copyright 2011 Victoria Gisondi

A special thank you to Victoria Gisondi for conducting this Catholic Book Spotlight interview with Arlene McGinley, author of Attic Alone: An Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Finds the Church.

Hi Arlene, would you kindly introduce us to yourself and tell us a little bit about you, your life here as a parishioner at St Jude’s, how many years you have been here and the ministries you may be involved in?

My husband Jim and I have been members of St Jude parish for five years. I am a convert and he is a revert.  We are both weekly participants in the Blessed Sacrament Guild Alter Society.  In other words, we, with about ten other volunteers, help clean the church every Friday morning at 9:30 a.m. and we always welcome extra helpers.  Jim is very active with the Pro-Life group and Knights of Columbus.

You currently had a biography of your life published.  I had the pleasure of reading one of the first editions of your book Attic Alone and I am currently reading it again. I can honestly say it is a captivating biography. Without giving too much away, can you tell the readers what your book is about?

The book is about my childhood where I spent many hours in the attic alone, and my young adulthood in a Jehovah’s Witness family ruled by my father and grandmother. I reveal how the teachings of the Watchtower caused great internal conflict because it was like living in two different worlds.  I had reason to doubt what I was taught at the Kingdom Hall because my school friends and my neighbors were different from us. At twenty-six I broke free from the Witnesses and began celebrating holidays, but spent ten years in a spiritual void while seeking a normal life.That normal life included a new husband and moving an hour away from my family and hometown. It felt as though chains had been broken off of me and my life changed dramatically.At thirty-six I discovered that Jesus is not Michael the archangel as I had been taught by the Watchtower. He is not just one of many sons of God. He is God the Son!  I attended a Baptist Church, was baptized and learned the basic doctrines of Christianity. It was a long journey to the Catholic Church, but upon reflection, one can see how the Holy Spirit was gently leading me along the path to the fullness of the Church founded on Peter that the gates of Hell will not prevail against.

Why or how you were inspired to put your life events into a story?

For the past twenty-five years, I have been sharing my story with others by writing articles, speaking publicly, and privately emailing with people leaving the Watchtower organization. Many people encouraged me to write a book, but I always felt that my story, as written, was not complete. When Jim and I began studying and reading about Church history, we learned a great deal about the Church fathers and saints. We discovered EWTN, the Eternal Word Television Network and began watching many programs. At the same time, our daughter was in RCIA at St. Jude Church. The next year, Jim and I attended RCIA and came into the Church. I knew that my story was now complete. I was where I needed to be when I came home to the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church. Now that my days on this earth have grown shorter, I felt the need to have my story available in print to others who are breaking free from Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Watchtower publishing company.

Your book is more than just a biography. Would you agree that it is a ministry to reach others?  Can you tell us more about that?

Yes, it is a ministry, not only for those who are leaving the Witnesses, but also for those who have no church affiliation and for those who are in the churches. It is quite easy to be taken in by the smiling faces at your door who offer Bible study aids that are actually the writings of unidentified men.  It is estimated that seventy-five percent of Jehovah’s Witnesses have some Catholic background.

For those of us that are not acquainted with the doctrines of JW what can you  tell us and why is this ministry so close to your heart?

The Watchtower is a very controlling publishing company that dictates how Jehovah’s Witnesses live their everyday lives.  Basic Christian doctrines are denied. They deny life after death except for themselves. They practice shunning those who leave. This ministry is close to my heart because I have three sisters who are still Jehovah’s Witnesses and they have had no relationship with me for the past thirty-six years, for half of my life, because I told them that salvation is in Jesus, not in the Watchtower organization.

Your story is incredibly intimate and you share very personal things about how alcoholism, domestic violence and other forms of abuse directly affected you. Would you say your experience is common among JW’s or not?

Yes, it is as common among the Witnesses as it is among the general population.

Was this difficult for you to put on paper for others to see? Has there been any back lash from family members?

It was very difficult for me write on paper or to enter my story onto the computer over the past twenty years. I often wept, but it was very healing to release the pain I felt. I gave it all over to the Lord. There has been no family lash back because my sisters are not allowed to read anything I write. My husband and my children are supportive.

Do you  keep  in touch with any family members that you grew up with? What about your first husband?

I have three younger brothers that escaped becoming Jehovah’s Witnesses. We love and appreciate each other, but distance and health issues prevent us from seeing each other very often. My first husband is deceased.

What would you say was the final turning point for you in leaving Kingdom Hall?

Being abandoned with three children to support by myself was a turning point because it made me realize that I was living a life that was not working. My life was built on hopes that were not believable.

Are there others that followed you into the church or, rather, out of Kingdom Hall?

My younger brothers refused baptism and stopped attending the meetings. My small children escaped being further exposed to the teachings of the Watchtower and they are baptized Christians.

I know this book was 20 years in the making. Are you currently working on any other projects? Do you see any other published books in your future?

My current work involves being on Internet support groups for those who leave the Watchtower. Recently, I joined a Catholic yahoo group where I met another ex-JW woman and together, we hope to help others appreciate what they have in the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church. No future book is planned.

How can people purchase your book?

The book, Attic Alone: An Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Finds the Church by A. McGinley and printed by iUniverse, is available in softcover, hardcover and Kindle at Amazon.com. It can be found at Cokesbury.com and ordered from Barnes & Noble. The paperback is presently available in St. Jude Parish gift shop. Hopefully, it will be made available to other Catholic book and gift shops, but I have not had time to look into that kind of distribution.

Are there any other comments you would like to add?

I want to thank you, Victoria, because you have been encouraging me to get my book published for the past four years. I am thankful for all who prayed for me and especially Sister Janet Thaddeus for her prayers and advice. If anyone wants to email me, send it to:  atticalone.amcginley@gmail.com

Order Attic Alone: An Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Finds the Church and support CatholicMom.com with your purchase.


Copyright 2010 Victoria Gisondi

Interview with author Joanna Tenkorang by Victoria Gisondi

Hi Joanna. Firstly, let me thank you for having entrusted me with the reading and review of your wonderful book! I really did enjoy the characters and the story. I had the pleasure of reading your science fiction book Attack on Planet Falrus, which is a story about the adventures of a boy, his friend and a robot and their quest to save their world from tyranny. Without giving too much away, what else would you tell the readers about this book?

Attack on Planet Falrus, although was written for children, is probably more likely to be appreciated by the older children amongst us, or those of us who never grew up! It is all about the utopia I sometimes wish this world to be, and ended up effectively creating in my head. It is my secret home, a great place to be! That is not to say it is a place free of problems – it is a nice mix of utopia and ‘normal life’ where the central theme is family life, a sense of community, and importantly, a sense of order and social cohesion which is key to the happy and carefree life there, and a national spirit similar to the ‘blitz’ mentality of Great Britain during the second world war, all seen through the eyes of a child. I wanted to impart the kind of values I would love to live by, in my own life, in this book, to create a world of shared goals and a desire to help those less fortunate than ourselves (as illustrated by the ‘relationship’ between the Falrusians and the ‘District’ people). In short, alongside the exciting adventures of my young heroes as they get themselves embroiled in the biggest challenge of their young lives, this book’s running theme is also the depiction of an innocent era, perhaps a bygone one?

Your biography mentions that you are a physician and author but I’m sure your readers would like to know more about you personally. Could you introduce us to yourself and tell us more about you? Where do you live? Family? Hobbies? Likes and dislikes?

Yes, I am a physician, a cardiologist by profession, but my first love was writing. I was born in Ghana and brought up a little there, in Togo and Nigeria and in England. I now live in Switzerland, as I work here. My parents were both academics, teaching french and history in a university, so books were all around me from the start. I didn’t just want to read them, I wanted to write them! Apart from writing, my other big passion is cycling. I love the freedom and the sense of abandon that I get when faced with the open road. It’s that ‘me against the road’ feeling. And often, I have no definite plan as to where I will go. Cycling has taken me to some interesting places, for example, the North cape (I cycled from Tromso in Northern Norway all the way, ie almost 400 miles, over 6 days to the North Cape 10 years ago), Holland and all through Great Britain as I cycled the 1000 miles from the Southwest tip of England all the way to the Northeast tip of Scotland in 12 gruelling days (ouch, that was painful especially over the mountains of Scotland, still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it). I love thai food and learning languages, but I am not the biggest fan of vegetables (please don’t tell my Mum!)

Have you always written? Is this your first published book?

I started writing when I was six. Although this book was first written when I was 17, I didn’t have the time to develop the story until recently, due to my studies and eventually my job over the years. Yes, this is the first of my stories to be published.

What can you tell us about your own faith journey that lead you to where you are now?

My mother is a staunch Catholic. So it was inevitable that I was going to be at least raised Catholic. Like most people, I probably took my faith for granted, but over the years, it has definitely helped me. I believe that it is a good thing to have a faith, whatever that may be. The Catholic faith is not a bad one to have, contrary to widespread propaganda, despite all the issues the Church has faced in recent times. That’s a personal opinion based on my own life experiences. As one matures, one realises that there is more to life than meets the eye. In the end, faith, or religion is more logical than science, even though on the face of it, the reverse may seem true. Apologies for the cryptic answer!

I noticed you incorporated your Catholic faith in the books but not overtly. Why did you feel it was important to infuse the culture on Falrus as well as past Line Desimak as a Catholic culture?

That was actually not intentional. It just so happens that in my idea of utopia, some sort of faith is central to the existence of life. It just so happens that the catholic faith is the faith that I know well. So it made sense to incorporate this into the book. I do know a little of other faiths, but not enough to feel confident to, for example, accord these to characters in the book. Interestingly, people from other faiths who have read the book remarked it was nice to have that aspect to the storyline.

The Demba family was very realistic. I loved Giren and Square especially. Are any of the characters based on real life experiences or family members?

Yes, each character in the Demba family and indeed most of the characters in the book are a mix of people I know, their personalities, mannerisms, quirks and idiosyncrasies. My ultimate fear right now is to get a call at midnight from a family member to say, ‘Ah, it’s suddenly hit me! So-and-so in your book is actually me, isn’t it?’ Then I would have to fess up (smile). Giren is a lot like me when I was a child. I had a friend like Square at school. I think most people have a friend like Square at school – you know, the really clever kid who seemed to ooze intelligence and that you were secretly jealous of (smile). The tyrants of the OLD World are not completely fictional to me. The military coups of the 80′s in West Africa helped to shape my imagination, but when I lived through it, it was very real. Anyone who has lived through a military regime would immediately identify with the people of the OLD World. It is an extremely terrifying experience.

There was a lot of science lingo that went over my head in the book, but was quite fascinating, like how life beyond Desimak is older than the Big Bang. Can you share more with your readers about your thoughts on the origins of the universe in general? Could there be life older than the Big Bang?

(Smile) I love this question, because I am by no means an expert on the Big Bang. This is one aspect of the book which is truly fictional. Space and nuclear physics was one of my favourite subjects at school, and as a teenager I was fascinated by atoms, neutrons, planets and galaxies, that sort of thing. Hence the original idea for the book. To answer your questions, I am as much a fan of the Darwin’s theory of evolution as the biblical story of the Creation, with Adam and Eve. In some way, I do not see why these two theories cannot co-exist in a unifying way, i.e. that Darwin is right, but the origin of his complex life forms have to have been created by a divine entity, i.e. God. To my simple mind, there need not be a conflict. The answer to your second question is that no-one really knows. Which is why it is great to fictionize it. It cannot be proved wrong!

What was the inspiration for this story?

The context to the inception of this book is this: Picture a 17 year old, bored after finishing high school exams, waiting to find out if a medical school place is in the offing. Head full of science and an overactive imagination to boot, with a history of writing stories for hours just for the pleasure of putting pen to paper, and six weeks of time to kill with no definite plans for a holiday or any other organised activity (far too impoverished for that!), it was only a matter of time before this kid was going to write a story about life on an unheard-of planet. For self-entertainment. Just for the sheer fun of it. Some might say I needed to get out more, indeed to get a life! But I had so much fun developing the characters and having fun with the science part, it was the best six weeks of my life (well, up to that point!) Then I had more fun recently, ‘tidying’ up the story, rewriting a few parts and getting it ready for publication. I relived the pleasure, reacquainting myself with my ‘secret people’. In short, by that age, I had my own ideas about what the perfect world should look like, and I wanted it to document that somehow, make a snapshot of my thoughts. I was inspired by the need to create something nice, initially for myself, and then to be shared with others. Some do it with music, I like to do it with writing.

Would you say Professor Potty could be a Christ figure in the story or is that reading too much into it?

Wow, I honestly never saw it from that point of view. It is an interesting connection to make, but not one I had in mind when I was writing the book, I must admit! My take on Professor Potty is that kind of ‘big brother’ or young (perhaps unmarried) uncle who can get down to the level of a child and interact with them as such. I had several Professor Potty figures in my life growing up. Quite why I chose a robot to fulfill this role for the kids in this book, I cannot really explain: I guess the robot was always going to be central to the story, and some sort of adult figure was required to ‘help’ the kids, so it made sense to use the robot in this way! I guess this relationship between a child or children and a non-human adult is not unique to my book…as an example I could cite that between the Terminator and Edward Furlong’s character, John Connor. It was a beautiful friendship, bordering on a father-son relationship, don’t you think? Especially in this case given that John Connor was indeed fatherless (and actually, vrtually motherless for much of his life too).

I would call your genre science fiction geared towards children. Why did you pick this age group? Have you written any stories for adults?

Again, interesting and actually insightful question. It may well be purely because I was a ‘child’ myself when I first wrote this book. I have also written fiction for adults, in my adult life. I do however prefer to write for children. It is that refusal to grow up, I guess, the eternal desire to entertain first the child within, and then other (real) children. I love the innocence associated with childhood, and I guess this is my way of preserving it for myself and others.

At one point in the story, Giren is conflicted on whether to tell his father about his “adventure” or keep it between Square and himself. Why do you think Giren chose what he did and is there a lesson in this for children?

To answer this question, I would ask anyone reading this to revert to their own childhood. Remember the feeling od wanting to do something for yourself, rather than asking anyone else, least of all an adult, and least of all your parent for help? Remember the need for independence? We have all done this in one way or another. I love that ‘us against them’ attitude children sometimes adopt against grown ups. It is fearless, it is noble, and it is natural. As an adult now, I react with an ‘Ahhh, bless’ when I see it in action. It is part of growing up. It is a necessary step before adulthood. It is being stubborn, obstinate and sometimes naive. But as Frank Sinatra reflected in his famous song, it is a good feeling to know that ‘I did it my way’. That little decision Giren took was my way of saluting all our little friends who choose to do something (hopefully good and not naughty), their way. In many ways, it is an ode to adventurous children of which I was one. It’s what childhood is all about.  It is also why I chose that particular acknowledgement at the start of the book.

Life beyond Desimak is a place of tyranny and oppression, but Falrus is a place of freedom. Is there any reason for this?

As is often the case in life, where there is good, in another part, there is evil, unfortunately. It’s like yin and yang. To fully appreciate the (almost) perfect life in Falrus, I feel one has to feel the pain of the District people. But even there, it’s not all about pain and suffering. They are wonderful people, with goodwill and kind hearts. They too are people just like the Falrusian people, but who just happen to find themselves in a tricky situation. In many ways, what happened to the District people could have happened to anyone, even the Falrusians. One never knows, in this life.

When can we expect the second book in the series?

Not very long. I shall let you into a secret. It is now finished! Just watch this space for the release date in the next year, I hope.

Is there anything else you would like to share with readers?

Yes! Another cryptic answer coming up: in the book I am careful not to give a physical description of any of the characters…but I was persuaded to ‘introduce’ them on the cover. That let the cat out of the bag about what the sequel is all about. Confused? All will be revealed in a year…(smile)

Order Attack on Planet Falrus and support CatholicMom.com with your purchase

Copyright 2010 Victoria Gisondi

When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.”

(And) Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.”

It’s almost as if she didn’t hear his response, but, of course, we know that’s not the case. Until this point Jesus had performed no miracles.  But that didn’t matter to Mary. From the beginning, she believed what had been told her was true and that was enough for her.  Elizabeth said it best at the Visitation when she cried out:

“Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

So while Mary knew that her son is God, what remains a mystery to me is not only how Mary knew it was the right time to ask  but how she had the perfect assurance that Jesus would indeed not let her down.  I mean, in his response to her, he did not seem too enthusiastic  to start His ministry at that very moment and yet we know that God does nothing outside His will.  Was Christ’s response “my hour has not yet come” the Lord’s way of showing us Mary’s influence on His heart? Is it possible that He had other plans on how and where he would perform his first miracle but was moved by Mary’s faith? I do not know.

In the account, Mary was concerned about somebody else’s dilemma and made it her own. Although running out of wine would have been a terrible embarrassment, there was no catastrophic crisis in the story, no leprosy being healed or dead being brought to life.  It was a problem of a more simple nature, but since it was important to the bride’s family, it was important to Mary. It was not the family who turned to Jesus in faith but Mary.

Mary ACTED in faith after she voiced her concern. We know because she simply turned to the servants and told them to do whatever Jesus said to do. In this passage I see Mary not as a child but as a woman of purpose and quiet grace. Our lady went forth as if her prayer had already been answered. The gospel of Mark tells us to believe we have already received an answer to our prayers even before we have. Notice he uses the past tense in the word “received”.

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours” (Mk 11:22, 24)

Again, we see the word “act” when St Louis de Montford tells us in his work True Devotion to Mary to:

“Pray and act always with something of that pure faith which Mary showed when on earth, and which she will share with you as time goes on.”

This kind of faith is always the most difficult. It requires a risky kind of conviction before we see any results.  It’s faith with muscle and not the wimpy conditional kind.  I once heard somebody say that if having faith that moved mountains was easy, there would be no more mountains.  Mary has that kind of muscle, though.  If we are to imitate Mary in any way, it is through her absolute trust in God.

What’s comforting about deMontford’s words is the consolation that if we turn to Mary for help, her faith will somehow rub off on us.  Mary makes it easy because she lets us borrow her faith when we ours is lacking.  The Lord sees it as fragrant offering wrapped around our measly ones and it pleases him to accept it. Let us never forget to turn to our Mother in time of need.

Our Lady Help of Christians, pray for us.

Copyright 2010 Victoria Gisondi

I’ve been so angry all the time. All my life, really. And I pray to God to heal me. I mean really heal me. So we go to this marriage talk and I figured it would be completely unrelated to my prayer but there was something that the pastor said in the video that touched something in me.

You know how marriage talks go. The lesson discussed loving your spouse, dropping expectations and demands and dying to your self, blah blah blah…But then the fear crops up. You know the one; It  goes something like this:

“If I die to my self and do more for Him, well, then he’ll get used to it and then he will EXPECT it and then MY needs wont be met…and I might resent him more. I mean this has to be a two way street!”

Unexpectedly the pastors next words addressed that. It was like he read the mind of every spouse there.

And this is the “thing” I mentioned that struck a chord with me. He said that as long as we keep thinking like that we are just holding on to a leash or a rope that’s attached to our spouses. Every time they get out of line, we  tug onto that leash and get them back in line. Whether we have our “little talks” with them, punish them, withold money- whatever.

The trick is that we must drop that leash and just do our part, no matter how our spouses respond since that is between the spouse and God. God has forgiven our debts and has showered our ungracious selves with his unmerited love. In our gratitude, we must do the same for our spouses. Like that story in the bible where the judge forgives the debtor and then , instead of showing mercy to his own debtor, the newly freed man beats him, we are doing the same to our spouses as long as we hold on to that invisible rope of debt.

In our gratitude to God we must be a reflection of God’s holy unmerited love to our spouse. God loves us so much that he made marriage to reflect that love . We MUST be that tangible love- that love made visible- to our spouses.

I got it. But…still….there is something about “dropping that rope” that made the whole room go silent. It was as if a light bulb went on. Once that rope is dropped, we lose all control, all claim, all power. It’s a frightening challenge. Suddenly, it became more than just about marriages. Everybody started talking about wounds and hurts and how dropping that rope would make you exposed or vulnerable or open to hurt or whatever.

The clincher is that  as long as we clutch that rope there is absolutely ZERO growth for unconditional love or love to grow in ANY way. There is no freedom there. It is a two-way debt-debtor relationship. That kind of marriage is only about compromise but not about love-the real kind of love, the submitting kind, the dying and laying down your life kind, the kind that God calls us to.

So, okay, I  recognized that if i dropped the leash, as hard as it may be and stuck only to my part, God will do his thing with my husband. If he offends me, mistreats me, fine. He is not my child and its not my job to collect retribution or demand explanations or corrected behavior.  That’s between him and God but my job is to reflect Gods unconditional love.God will only ask me for an account of my part

But it’s that danged rope. I just cant seem to drop it. Most of us can’t. If we do, in our spirits, we know we will be blessed. We know God will defend us. We know that every desire that we have unfairly loaded up on our spouses that goes undelivered, will be delivered by God. HE is the one that can give us the desires of our heart, HE is the one that never disappoints. HE is sufficient. but, but, but….the flesh keeps going back to the same old “but she OWES me! He OWES Me!” It’s what that leash really is.

And there it is…I don’t know what it is about the lesson of the rope but I wanted to cry. I have a very deep feeling that the rope in my own  life is somehow connected to my own anger or the control I want to have over protecting my wounds….I cant bear to let go…And I would wager that I am not the only one. But this one thing I do know. Resisting to drop it is a guarantee that NOTHING will ever change or improve. Although we may not all be angry people, we all clutch on to control to protect ourselves from something. Perhaps its being taken advantage of, being hurt, disappointed, walked all over. No wonder God wants our surrender. He wants to heal those wounds we protect so fiercely. We must all learn to let go…

Copyright 2009 Victoria Gisondi

I was at 3 day Women Of Grace conference years ago at the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Doylestown, Pa. On the last day there was to be a closing mass with the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament at the end. Those who felt moved  were asked by the music leader to come up the altar for adoration and healing.  We were supposed to bravely stand and go up to the front with our needs. Many gathered  but I sat frozen in my seat.  My heart was longing and aching to be one of the brave who weren’t afraid to expose their needs in front of many. I kept trying to coax myself to get up out of my seat and take a not-so-short walk to the altar. But I was stuck. In frustration and despair I threw up my hands (internally).  Why did they have to have an altar call anyway? I was a revert to Catholicism and had participated in my share of “altar calls” when I had flirted with other denominations. But today, I just couldn’t or wouldn’t.  Because of my cowardice would I miss out on God’s blessing and healing for me? I knew exactly how that young man who approached Jesus felt. The one who walked away sadly because he just couldn’t give up his riches for the kingdom. He knew he just didn’t have what it takes and neither did I. And so I cried out my frustration to God in my heart. Then something truly wonderful started happening.

As the crowds knelt at the front of the church, Jesus Himself stood up and (no offense to the brave people at the altar) picked up His robes, stepped down off the altar and started walking down the aisle…right towards me! I couldn’t believe it. The words to the song “Do Not Be Afraid.” proceeded with Him filling the space around me.

Do not Be Afraid I am with you
I have called you each by name…
I love you and you are Mine

I wept with gratitude. He knew my heart and my weaknesses and He came to me just the same. He wasn’t even asking me to meet Him halfway! I couldn’t stop crying. When he got close I  touched the tassels of his robes in sweet gratitude for His mercy and love before He walked on to heal others.

I know it’s hard to understand, but through the hands and feet of the priest (who picked up the monstrance and was processing with It) Jesus was walking literally  towards me. I know it like I know the sun rises every morning. I could see Him in my mind’s eye. And in all my life I never felt so unconditionally loved and valued. We don’t need to be perfect or brave. We can even be cowards and  we are still valuable to Him. The only thing I brought to the table was my desire and my belief.

Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.

I hadn’t realized how much of this mentality had affected me until recently. As I was leaving daily mass one morning, feeling fresh and fancy free because I was completely childless and had been able to enjoy the Mass without the usual distractions, I encountered a an older gentleman I have seen around at Adoration; a kind man who wore a large beautiful cross with a Saint Benedict medal infused into the center of it. We got to talking and I was singing the wonders of how wonderful it is to feel that “holy quiet” that can only be felt at Adoration- how its almost tangible and how it permeates the soul. But he said something that surprised me. He told me that it is not necessarily the quiet that matters. He explained that the Lord wants us to come to Him like little children and how he has gotten to know many broken people who visit Our Lord on a regular basis and,as a result, had established a sort of community. I gathered from what he said that he and these people had possibly conversed quietly or shared the burdens and prayed together in fellowship before Our Lord. What a novel idea! The idea of little children struck a chord and I asked him if this idea included actual children. Then he smiled and recounted a specific time that he remembered ME bringing my children to daily Mass and how frazzled I had looked trying to keep them all in order.


He recounted the face of an elderly lady who sat in the back and who’s face lit up as she saw me enter with my clamorous brood.

“You don’t know the beacon of light you are to those elderly or lonely people that haven’t seen small children in a long while. ” he told me.

Yeah right, I thought, but what about all the rest of the people who I’m bothering? And, before I could get the thought out he said.

“There will always be people who express complaints. But those that are disturbed are truly disturbed by something else. Those that are there with a heart to love the Lord will not be disturbed.”

Something about the statement moved something inside me. It felt a new perspective shift and settle like tectonic plates inside me. I tried to fight the tears welling up in me and gave into them. So, it wasn’t me. It was them. I hadn’t been wrong.  I suddenly grieved for all those times I had scowled at and pinched my children during mass or left church angry. I grieved for all those times I had unreasonable expectations and had left Mass in a dark storm. I had been focusing on the wrong thing.

The gentleman reminded me that the Lord had very specifically said “Suffer the little children on to me. ” And the word “suffer” stood out and gave me peace all at once. Jesus knew that in order to bring the children to him there would be some suffering required. As immature little people, they have not yet conquered their impulses, their manners their noise level. They are, after all, little children. I pictured Jesus smiling at the raucous, making allowances for the disrupted silence and interrupted half prayers. The Lord loves them dearly and accepts them with infinite patience- something I had failed to do.  Where did this unwritten rule that children do not belong at Holy Adoration emerge?

I left a little sad but resolved and so I sat down to write this article. My prayer is to free all the women who have felt the same frustration I have. I wrote this article to give you, the mothers of young children, permission to go before the Lord, to ignore all those “apostles” who want to shoo them away to be bold and unapologetic about it and to encourage you. If you have held back from the graces of daily mass out of fear, if you have stopped making holy hours before the Lord out of fear, out of shame, or even out of pride, GO BACK! Do not let the devil have the last laugh. The Lord wants us and our children. He wants to build up his Body starting with the children. What better way is there to instill a love of the Lord if we don’t start very young? If we come back in armies of mothers and children who will be able to stop us?

Copyright 2009 Victoria Gisondi