The Power from on High

Today begins the original novena—the nine days of prayer leading up to the great feast of Pentecost.  As I join with so many others in praying this novena, I pray for an increased outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon all of you, upon all artists, upon the Church, and upon the whole world.

If you would like me to carry your intentions specifically, please send them to me.  I will lift them up to our Lord, carrying them in my heart during these days.

Please pray for me.

Missionary of Divine Providence

Somehow I find myself speaking more and more boldly and freely of late about abandoning oneself to Divine Providence and, as I do so, I find my own belief in it strengthened.  It is like a gift that I have the more I give it to others.  I find myself compelled from within to become a missionary of abandonment to Divine Providence.

It seems fitting to write of this idea today upon the feast of Saint Joseph the Worker, for he was ever abandoned to the Providence of God throughout his life.  In his work, in his silence, in his love, in his tender care for the Blessed Virgin Mary and for Christ, and in his humility, we see a tremendous example of one committed to living for the Lord.  He did not question, he did not shirk his duties, he did not flee from suffering.  Instead, he gave himself wholly to God's will in ways that we may never know upon this earth.

Saint Joseph seems to keep presenting himself in little ways in my life.  Some months ago now, I was blessed to visit the miraculous staircase he built at the Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  I think of that experience now as I lift up my life to him, asking his intercession, that he may build of my life also something miraculous as a gift for my Lord and for the world.

He is a powerful spiritual father.  I look up to him as I continue my earthly pilgrimage and speak—I hope—by both words and actions of abandonment to Divine Providence.  I pray that you may do the same.

May it ever be for His glory and not our own!

Death Comes for Us All

Death has been on my mind increasingly of late, and not merely because we have just come through the intense commemoration of Christ's death in the Easter Triduum.  That mystery, however, casts its shadow upon every experience of death and every pondering thereof.  For where our Lord has conquered death by His death there must also be life.

The reality of death never affected me much as a child.  Even now I can count on one hand the times that death has touched me closely, butchery of chickens and viewing of murder mystery shows notwithstanding.

I think of a priest I met who shared with us words his mother had repeated to him about how where there is death there will come life.  That priest knew a couple who received a newborn boy after they had longed eagerly for a child they had been unable to conceive on their own and had prayed through the intercession of the priest's mother.  Their new child was born on the same day that the priest's mother had died.  Where there was death there came life.

I think of tulips planted in rocks beside the ocean with their roots sheltered by soil carefully patted around them.  As their bright colors caught my gaze, I found my heart reflecting on death contrasting with their bright and vibrant life, for I thought perhaps the tulips stood as testimony to some lost love.

Before the mystery of death I have no words, writer as I am.  Still, writer as I am, I must strive to put words where only silence can adequately respond.  I must speak out from my heart what I know in its quiet beating, even though in the end I will say nothing of what I know with all my many words, but speak only of all that surrounds it, of all the little petty details that seem to mean nothing.

Perhaps it is best to rely upon poetry whose imagery speaks what prose cannot.  Here a little piece from G.K. Chesterton:

The Skeleton

Chattering finch and water-fly
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly.
No; I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King's jest,
It was hid so carefully.

Storm the Heavens!

When a dear friend writes and asks me to pray and I promise to storm the heavens, I feel a little foolish. After all, how can I storm the heavens when I scarcely even know how to pray? How can I truly intercede for others?

Scarcely do I begin to question when I pick up a copy of Restoration, the newspaper from Madonna House.  It was the January issue which I had not yet had a chance to read. The theme for the month was prayer and the title of the first article was Prayer that Pierces the Clouds. How fitting that I should have mislaid this issue of Restoration until it should speak even deeper to my heart!

Although this issue of Restoration, like every issue, held many beautiful thoughts and stories, it was the section known as The Pope's Corner that I would like to quote:

But we need to pray from our hearts. A courageous prayer that struggles for that miracle. Not like those prayers of courtesy: Ah, I will pray for you! Followed by one Our Father, a Hail Mary and then I forget.

No! It takes a brave prayer like that of Abraham who was struggling with the Lord to save the city, like that of Moses who prayed, his hands held high when he grew weary.

Prayer works miracles, but we must believe it.

What I learn from these words of Pope Francis is that in order to storm the heavens, in order to intercede for another, we cannot treat this interchange with our Lord as a matter of manners where we ask nicely and make sure to say please. No, rather we must implore Him like the widow persisting in beseeching the judge to hear her. We must not throw out a simple gesture of prayer, but stand up bravely like Horatius at the bridge, defending the entire city alone. We must wrestle in prayer like Jacob who found out he had wrestled with God.

Healer of Families

Here is a beautiful hymn for today's meditation in honor of Saint Joseph.  It is sung by the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles, who live in the lovely community known as Ephesus.  Note the image of Saint Joseph holding the child Jesus, who looks up so lovely and trustingly into his eyes.  May we trust likewise in his intercession before the throne of God!