The Feast of St. Francis

Yesterday was the feast day of one of my favorite patron saints, St. Francis of Assisi. Finding myself faced with a day full of errands in the big city with my eldest offspring tagging along, I searched for a Mass service that we could attend while we were there. Unfortunately the big city isn't really all that big and the available Mass times were either early morning or evening, neither of which we could make it too.

Instead we settled for stopping by Immaculate Conception to say our prayers and find a moment of peace and calm in the middle of an otherwise hectic day. My sidekick that day is also my most reverent child. He loves visiting churches, he never balks at going to Mass, and his sense of wonder and curiosity about our faith make for an always interesting time traveling with him.

We entered through the side door, and paused for a moment to speak with the woman who was cleaning the vestibule. As I waited for Eli to return from the restroom a young woman came through the door. Wearing sweats and a tank top, hair pulled back, very thin, stress written across her face. She stopped and looked at the woman who had returned to her cleaning and then she focused on me. She forcefully asked if there was church today. I responded that there had been an early morning service already. Looking a bit disappointed, she glanced through the door into the chapel and asked if it was okay to just go inside and sit down. I assured her that yes, it was perfectly fine. Thanking me, she tentatively made her way into the chapel.

A few moments later, Eli and I entered and took a seat at one of the front pews. Pulling out my prayer book, I withdrew my St. Francis metal prayer card that I had gifted to myself around the time of my baptism. Kneeling and reciting it, I suddenly felt a very very strong urge to give it to the young woman. I finished the prayer, got up and made my way to the back of the church where she was sitting. I knelt down beside her and explained to her that today was the feast day of St. Francis and that this prayer was one of my very favorite prayers. I put the card in her hands and told her that I felt like she needed it. I saw her eyes glisten and a smile flutter across her lips as she quietly said thank you. I returned to my pew and completed my prayers.

I've learned that the Holy Spirit is the force that drives us to do and say things that might not be in our normal character. I saw myself in this woman. I remembered nervously walking into St. Agnes in the middle of a weekday and just sitting down in the back pew by myself for quite sometime. I don't know what brought her to the church in the middle of the day, but I do know that I was brought there at that exact time to share something with her.

Solitude vs. Loneliness

I've been thinking about solitude. Solitude versus loneliness.

"All human beings are alone. No other person will completely feel like we do, think like we do, act like we do. Each of us is unique, and our aloneness is the other side of our uniqueness. The question is whether we let our aloneness become loneliness or whether we allow it to lead us into solitude. Loneliness is painful; solitude is peaceful. Loneliness makes us cling to other in desperation; solitude allows us to respect others in their uniqueness and create community." - Henri Nouwen

Is this it?

People watching in a tourist town behind glass. With a beer in hand so it is a double meaning. Behind the window, behind the glass. Pen in the other hand instead of a phone. Dining alone never bothers me. This is self imposed solitude that is anything but lonely. But I'm watching these people walk by, and I'm thinking about counting how many of them are walking looking down. Peripheral vision is not engaged while there is a whole other world in the screen in their hands. I keep expecting one of them to walk off the sidewalk into traffic, or bump into a passerby or a pole. It doesn't happen today.

This is so obviously what I needed. Solitude away from what at times feels like a home in a prison colony. The home itself not a prison, but the location of it, so remote, the community so lacking. Fallen down buildings, fallen out teeth. Overgrown lots, overgrown adults. Burnt out trailers, burnt out addicts. The drive just to get anywhere to experience anything other than poverty is exhausting in itself. Two hours travel just to be somewhere that doesn't feel like its standing still. Alone in the bathhouse turned brewery, perched at a counter in front of a huge picture window, I sat and watched. Savored my beer and good food, counted my blessings, and then I took a walk to see Mother Mary.

I tried to meditate on her solitude.  How utterly alone she must have felt after her only Son gave his life. Then I recall John 19:26-27 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his home. At this point Mary became the mother of the Church, which could come with great solitude but hardly loneliness. I always ask her to intercede for me that I might be a better mother myself and learn to love as selflessly as she, but I think from now on I will include a petition for learning to live in solitude among community so as to not feel lonely anymore.

Traveling Catholic: Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe

At six thirty on a Thursday morning in April,  I made my way up a Dallas city street to the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

It was semi-dark and quite chilly. Being unprepared to spend the night in Dallas I was underdressed and seeking warmth. I was naturally attracted to the grotto of candles adjacent to the statue of our Blessed Mother. Out of the wind, the tiny little flames provided enough heat to stop my shivering.

I stood next to all the visible signs of prayer offered up. Words, worries, pleas, and thanksgivings all flickering silently in the dawn light of an ordinary weekday morning. The Blessed Mother stood nearby, welcoming and beckoning weary souls to pause a moment and kneel before her. To lay it all down. Let it all go. My own soul was worn out. Tired enough to sit down with her and beg to never leave her presence.

As soon as the doors were opened for morning Mass, I stepped inside. And then I gasped. Words nor pictures can do justice to the beauty of the cathedral. Finding a pew, I knelt and silently sent up my thanks to God in all his glory for this moment. Alone, with few other parishioners nearby, I spent Mass in near constant prayer. At times I wept. Asked forgiveness for lies I had been telling myself. Asked for mercy for my continual sins. Asked to be granted wisdom and strength. Asked that the Holy Spirit be present in my life. I prayed for myself and my problems until there was nothing left.

And when Mass ended, I breathed deeply, feeling much more at peace than when I arrived.

You can find information about the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe here.