for emilie

Emilie darling,
I loved you like a sister. I asked you to be my matron of honor because you were one of the closest, dearest friends I've ever had--and probably ever will. I feel somehow as though part of my soul is missing now that you are gone; a void has opened that, I know, will never close. All of our other friends have written so eloquently about what you meant to them, about how you will be missed. But for all that you encouraged me to become a writer (nagged, occasionally!) I cannot seem to do likewise. My heart feels like lead, my eyes continually fill with tears, and my mind is a mushy fog. I flounder, helplessly, to find words adequate to express my feelings. So, instead, I am copying the words of a writer far more able than I:

We Remember Them

In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember them.
In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember them.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember them.
In the rustling of leaves and the beauty of autumn,
we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
--Jewish prayer

I loved you, Emilie. I only pray that you knew just how much. May God bless and keep you, now and forever.

funeral today

I'm too exhausted to write about the funeral today...but I did want to write something in honor of the occasion. So here are the quotes I used in my eulogy:

"Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limitation of our sight."
--Rossiter Worthington Raymond

"We do best homage to our dead by living our lives fully even in the shadow of our loss."
--Jewish proverb

And mom's favorite prayer, the Prayer of St. Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
Where there is injury, pardon,
Where there is doubt, faith:
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
--St. Francis of Assisi

Rejoice, heavenly powers!

If you want to know what holds me together--and has for years--it's the Exsultet. This once a year Easter proclamation is my rock. It is proclaimed, usually sung, by the priest at Easter vigil after the lighting of the Easter candle, once in Latin and once in English. For me, it's the climax of the year, it's the way I make sense of my life, it's my comfort and my hope. It gives me the courage to get our of bed in the morning, knowing that today I will go to visit my mom and witness her suffering. I have never made it through listening to the entire Exsultet with crying: I probably never will!

The Exsultet

Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels!
Exult, all creation around God's throne!
Jesus Christ, our King, is risen!
Sound the trumpet of salvation!

Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,
radiant in the brightness of your King!
Christ has conquered! Glory fills you!
Darkness vanishes for ever!

Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
Let this place resound with joy,
echoing the mighty song of all God's people!

[My dearest friends, standing with me in this holy light,
join me in asking God for mercy,
that he may give his unworthy minister
grace to sing his Easter praises.]

[V. The Lord be with you.
R. And also with you.]
V. Lift up your hearts.
R. We lift them up to the Lord.
V. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
R. It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is truly right
that with full hearts and minds and voices
we should praise the unseen God, the all-powerful Father,
and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

For Christ has ransomed us with his blood,
and paid for us the price of Adam's sin
to our eternal Father!

This is our passover feast,
when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain,
whose blood consecrates the homes of all believers.

This is the night when first you saved our fathers:
you freed the people of Israel from their slavery
and led them dry-shod through the sea.

This is the night when the pillar of fire
destroyed the darkness of sin!

This is the night when Christians everywhere,
washed clean of sin
and freed from all defilement,
are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.

This is the night when Jesus Christ
broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave.

What good would life have been to us,
had Christ not come as our Redeemer?

Father, how wonderful your care for us!
How boundless your merciful love!
To ransom a slave
you gave away your Son.

O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam,
which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Most blessed of all nights, chosen by God
to see Christ rising from the dead!

Of this night scripture says:
"The night will be as clear as day:
it will become my light, my joy."

The power of this holy night
dispels all evil, washes guilt away,
restores lost innocence, brings mourners joy;
it casts out hatred, brings us peace, and humbles earthly pride.

Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earth
and man is reconciled with God!

Therefore, heavenly Father, in the joy of this night,
receive our evening sacrifice of praise,
your Church's solemn offering.

Accept this Easter candle,
a flame divided but undimmed,
a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.

Let it mingle with the lights of heaven
and continue bravely burning
to dispel the darkness of this night!

May the morning Star which never sets find this flame still burning:
Christ, that Morning Star, who came back from the dead,
and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,
your Son who lives and reigns for ever and ever.
R. Amen.

as we remember them

I meant to post this yesterday in memory of my dad, but was so overwhelmed with my mom's illness I never managed to get it done...however, I don't want the anniversary of his death to pass without doing anything in his memory. This is a Jewish prayer I found in a book about grief after he died, and I've always found it to be a tremendous comfort; it expresses so many of the feelings about grief and loss, and the world to come that I've come to believe since he died. He's always with me now; I can feel him patting me on the back and saying gruffly, "Good job, kid" or "hang in there kid, you're stronger than you think" or just being with me, smiling at me with that beloved twinkle in his blue eyes. So here's to you, daddy:

We Remember Them

In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember them.
In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember them.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember them.
In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are now a part of us, as
we remember them.

good news not so good, after all

Yesterday I did what was, I think, the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life: I had to tell my mom that when she leaves the nursing home she will probably need to go into an assisted living facility rather than be able to return to the little apartment she loves so much. She took it well--no tears, hysterics, etc.,--but I know her so well that the look on her face (which I could tell she was trying to control, probably to keep from upsetting me) told me exactly how devastated she felt.

Tomorrow we have a "care conference" scheduled with her social worker, physical therapist, nurse practitioner, etc., to discuss her discharge planning. I'm hoping that maybe--a big maybe--she could stay in her apartment and just have more help come in on a daily basis, like home health care aides, that kind of thing, but I'm not sure she could manage even then. I just don't know; everything's up in the air right now. The bottom line is that her heart and lung problems are making it impossible for her to recover at the rate she (and I) were hoping.

So please know that if I seem out of touch or something that it's not that you guys don't matter to me anymore. I'm just so overwhelmed; my depression is kicking in and I'm so weepy I can't seem to get anything done. I guess I'm saving up all of my energy so that I can be strong when I'm with my mom.

Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and everyday. Either God will shield you from suffering, or God will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations
--St Francis de Sales

stewardship prayer

I found this terrific prayer on the Basilica of St. Mary's website. It's an especially nice one to remember this Christmas season:

Stewardship Prayer

Christ has no body now but ours, no hands but ours Here on this earth ours is the work, to serve with the joy of compassion

Christ has no hands but ours to heal the wounded world, no hands but ours to soothe all its suffering, no touch but ours to bind the broken hope of the people of God

No eyes but ours to see as Christ would see, to find the lost, to gaze with compassion; No eyes but ours to glimpse the Holy Joy of the city of God

No feet but ours to journey with the poor, to walk this world with mercy and justice Ours are the steps to build a lasting peace for the children of God

Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

discernment

So here's my prayer for the day:

Lord, teach me to be generous,
Teach me to serve you as you deserve,
to give and not count the cost,
to fight and not heed the wounds,
to toil and not seek for rest,
to labor and not ask for reward,
save that of knowing that I do your will.
--St. Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuit order), The Spiritual Exercises

When someone is given a great deal, a great deal will be demanded of that person;
when someone is entrusted with a great deal, of that person even more will be expected.
(Luke 12:48)

Or to paraphrase, what Fr. Neenan (good Jesuit that he is) said to begin my Boston College orientation: "To whom much has been given, much is expected." (The Jesuit mantra, at least the B.C. Jesuits!)

This has been on my mind a lot lately. I've believed this for years. But belief is one thing, putting that belief into practice is another. Please pray for me as I struggle with the question of how. How do I use my gifts (for I know that I have been very, very blessed) in a responsible way, in spite of my physical, etc. limitations? How do I discern what God's call is for me today?

"The greatest glory of God is the human person fully alive."
--St Ignatius of Lyons (or Antioch? I don't remember!)

the please and thank you prayer

Three years ago today my friends Emilie and Steve were married at St. Luke's Catholic Church in St. Paul, MN. Happy Anniversary guys!!!! I met Emilie and Steve through a mutual friend--Steve's brother Bruce, in fact--the same day I met my husband. Little did I know that day that less than two years later we'd all wind up married!
Their wedding was absolutely beautiful (how could it not be, with Emilie as the bride?) and I felt very honored when they asked me to read. (My reading was from the Song of Songs; luckily for me, not the one about the leaping gazelle, so I was able to keep a straight face.) What I remember most clearly, however, is the "please and thank you prayer" for married couples Fr. O'Connell recommended during his homily. Take a quiet moment together and light a candle. Each person in turn asks God for an intention, then each mentions one thing for which they are grateful. That's it; very simple (which, of course, is the beauty of it). Praying together does a lot to bring couples closer to each other and to God, and the two elements of the prayer remind us what really matters in our lives together.
Now, if I could just get George to do it with me...

*sigh*

This is Steve and Emilie with George and me last New Year's Eve:

prayer for peace

Sometimes we learn of our loved ones deepest feelings by the things they leave behind, particularly if they have traveled lightly. My dad, unlike me, was a person of few words, not inclined to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He didn't talk much about the war, except to share a few bits and pieces here and there, mostly funny stories; in fact the one time he really opened up to me about his experiences was the Memorial Day I wrote him the letter, when he told me about a good buddy of his who was blown up by a land mine in France--the only time in my life I ever saw my father cry, other than when my grandma died.

So, after he died, when I discovered the following prayer--along with an old missal, his rosary, my letter, and assorted old photographs, including a number from the war--it told me a lot about the the scars the war had left.

God of power and mercy,
In the midst of conflict and division,
we know it is you who turn our minds to thoughts of peace.
Your Spirit changes our hearts:
enemies begin to speak to one another,
those who were estranged join hands in friendship,
and nations seek the way of peace together.

Protect us from violence
and keep us safe from the weapons of war.

This we ask though the Prince of Peace,
our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you
and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
(Based on the Eucharistic Prayer for Masses of Reconciliation II)
Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis


My dad was once a crack shot; he qualified as a rifle expert in the Army and, being a farm boy, hunted frequently before he was drafted into the service. Yet after he came home he never picked up a rifle again. As he told me, "Once you've seen what a gun can do to a human being, you just don't want to ever look at one again."

It's good to remember that all combat veterans sacrifice for their country; it's just that in some cases, the wounds aren't visible on the outside. But that doesn't mean they aren't there, and that the suffering isn't real. My father had nightmares and insomnia all his life, and when I was a chaplain intern I worked with WWII vets who, more than 50 years later, still had flashbacks of concentration camps and landings on Normandy Beaches, desolate Christmases in the Ardennes and firey Pacific Islands, haunted by unimaginable horrors that could not be put to rest.

So if you (if anyone is actually reading this) happen to meet a WWII vet--or any vet at all--say thanks. Believe me, it will mean the world to them.