St. Nick and the Blind Men

   Advent has not started out as I hoped (shocker, I'm like a record on repeat every liturgical season;)) but today I was blessed with a gift. A gift, despite my hesitation and insecurity, I feel compelled to share. I had big hopes of starting Advent off on the right foot with the advent wreath ready and I knew the house would not be decorated for the season yet, but I was hoping to at least have started and incorporated some basic Advent prayers/activities into our routine.  It's not a total fail but it's pretty close.  I've been looking forward to St. Nicholas Day as a day to reset, first day I take a full day off from school, get some stuff out of the house to make room for Advent and Christmas, and a day without activies so we enjoy a peaceful night as a family and dig out some of the decorations and decorate together.  A day to talk about punching heretics...  and the care of the poor and defending the church. But today I was given a gift so much more special than all these things on my list. 

   I ended up not purchasing the Advent devotional I had been planning on getting and thought a few resources I had for personal prayer during Advent would be enough. Although I have been able to stick to prayer and reflection every day, the Advent aspect of it I felt was lacking.  Today, I started with the Magnificat which takes me through morning prayer and the mass. I would add my Advent reflection book and webseries after I had read the readings of the day.  I had been regretting not getting the Advent journal I planned on spending money on, feeling like I was missing out on the Advent aspect of my prayer time. 

   Some might say what happened is coincidence, or me searching and finding what I want to find. But I know Jesus heard my heart. I know he responded.  The gospel reading today was the reading about Jesus healing two blind men, he tells them not to tell anyone what has happened, but they do.  Matthew 9: 27-31. Friends, this is a story I have heard or a read countless times.  I'm fairly certain I've read reflections about it's meanings before, which are all good.  But today was different and special. As I was sitting there reading in the same spot I often do, where I often go through the motions despite my best efforts not to, my eyes were opened. I could envision Jesus in the house of the blind men, asking them with quiet peaceful love, "Do you believe I can do this?" I can picture the men, eager, not only to be able to see,  but oh they sincerely believed Jesus could. They knew He could. They had faith.  They truly believed He could work miracles, even on them.  In awe and wonder, they believed. But what really got me was then I pictured Jesus, his calm demeanor, his tender touch, his quiet but sincere words raised to heaven, in communion with His Father, the peace He exuded.  The glory and awe of his whole presence and demeanor, in-explainable, for a moment overshadowing the miracle he was working. This might sound insignificant, it almost sounds silly to me now, but I cannot describe what I felt and saw or pictured this morning. It was so strong and real I was a crying mess. I felt like I had a real glimpse of Jesus. And it was so powerful to feel that, to glimpse him and his loving glory, I could not stop crying. He was so filled with love and sincerity, I cannot describe it.  

    How many times do we read the stories of Jesus, as just another "story" and one we have heard countless times. How many times do we read or listen without even really taking in what we are reading.  What would happen if we let it wash over us. If we entered into the spectacularness of what is really happening in what we are reading. What if we took the time to let it speak to us, to open our hearts.  This was all so much for me, to just experience Jesus and even the Father this way.  But He had more for me to learn from this.  Jesus told the blind men not to tell anyone. They didn't listen, I'm not going to comment on that but what I was led to thinking about was, how could they not?  How could they not share not only that Jesus actually healed them, but I think they, and everyone who was spreading the news about Jesus was sharing because of everything else about Him too.  How just by being with Him, you knew there was something real and true, His whole presence and demeanor exuded the glory, the peace, the love of God.  If we really let ourselves enter into what we believe, if we let it wash over us, if we believe what we say we believe, we won't be able not to share the beauty of our God. May we let Jesus wash over us in a real way this Advent, may we open our hearts to him in a real way. May we let him love us.  Yes, He wants to transform us, but He wants to really love us first. By letting ourselves be truly loved by him, by feeling his presence, that is how He will transform us.  

   There are lots of reflections on this story, and all the stories of the bible, that's one of the beautiful things about the gospel, the bible, you can always learn something new.  

  I share this with much humility and even trepidation but I share it because how could I not after the gift I was given today.  So Happy Feast of St. Nicholas!  

P.S. We have some awesome priests here in Pittsburgh. Sharing with permission:) 

Rebuild my church

I've been wanting to start over on a new writing space for a long while now, because honestly, 3 kids later although I still love my heels, they don't come out as often any more... but that's another story for another day.  A new writing space just hasn't made it to the priority list. I've been kicking it old school recently and writing a lot on paper but I really felt the desire today to share some thoughts reflecting on the sad fire at the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

A few years ago I learned more about St. Francis of Assisi than the trite common knowledge of his love of animals and nature and since I've really admired him, and been annoyed by his simplification.   But I have been even more drawn to him since the release of PA Grand Jury report on priest sexual abuse.  The call to rebuild our beloved church seems so fresh and raw.  You see, St. Francis wasn't this just meek and mild peaceful nature lover who  sat around talking to birds. He was out to create radical change in the church and the way Catholics lived,  a return to true devotion to God and self sacrifice.  This, after a lavish playboy style youth. After experiencing a vision he heard God calling him to "repair" His church. At first, Francis thought God meant literally repairing the crumbing church structure.  After some time, by what some would consider extreme measures, working on this, which was needed as well, Francis realized that God was actually calling him to spiritually rebuild his church.  St. Francis of Assisi was a truly passionate man who if you met today you would probably think was not normal but through him some radical changes were made.

After reading about Notre Dame I couldn't help but think of Francis the call the rebuild the church. Apparently Notre Dame was in bad disrepair in many aspects.  There were already efforts underway to try to restore the structure at exponential costs.  The process of repairing the church was in process.  As I sat staring at the flames appearing to gut the structure I couldn't help but think of God telling us, it's not enough to repair my structure you need to rebuild and restore spiritually. Then I heard, albeit  brief, accounts in the news of the songs and prayers being prayed around the church. My heart sang when I finally caught a glimpse of these faithful servants of God, not crying in despair, but on their knees praying and singing to God outside the church as they watched the flames spread and appear to engulf the structure. The tragedy brought people out on the streets, praying on their knees for all to see as a beautiful witness of the roots of our faith.  This tragedy of destruction of one of our most treasured churches was already demonstrating and rebuilding and restoring and repairing our church in one of the most basic and beautiful and important ways.  God never ceases to amaze me in his way to bring beauty of ashes. Literally and figuratively.

Later as I was thinking about how this happened at the start of Holy Week and simultaneously feeling like a failure in carrying out Lent in our home, or lack thereof, I thought of this tragedy. And the reminder that every day, every  season, we are called to rebuild. When beloved churches go up in flames, when we fail at our spiritual goals, or any goals, we are called to lean on God and repair, rebuild and start anew.  I might not have carried out Lent how I intended but it is the start of Holy Week and I can start rebuilding again right now.  God provides us an opportunity to restart and rebuild every day in little ways in our homes and communities. Now, for me, by simply rededicating myself and my family, my efforts, this week to enter more fully and deeply into Lent and restore and rebuild.

For those of you reading this not in my or any little Catholic bubble, please know that there so very many of us dedicated to rebuilding our church, and not just our structures. We are trying in big ways by being more active and vocal in our parishes and beyond, and we are trying in small ways (which in the end I don't think are so small) every day in our homes with our families and our interactions with everyone we meet. Don't expect perfection from us because we are after all sinners. But know we are working hard on rebuilding our church.