Rosary Meditation: The Crucifixion

Here is a meditation for the fifth Sorrowful mystery.  You can go here for a meditation on the first Sorrowful mystery, here for a meditation on the second Sorrowful mystery, here for a meditation on the third Sorrowful mystery, and here for the fourth Sorrowful mystery.

NOTE:  This is my own personal interpretation of scripture.  If you'd like exact quotations or actions, feel free to read each gospel account of these mysteries.

TIP:  Sometimes I meditate on all portions of this scene and sometimes just on a few moments.  I allow God to guide my mind and if I get distracted (which can happen from time to time with kids in the room), I simply return to the last moment I can recall.

The Crucifixion

It's close to noon by the time Jesus stumbles up the hill to Calvary.  He is stripped unceremoniously of His garments, which the guards take and divide among them using the game of lots.  When they strip our Lord, He stands, barely but He stands.  And in this moment He decides to leave this world just as He came, with nothing but His love and compassion.

The guards roughly pull Jesus onto the cross.  And with ropes and great pulling, they pull His arms of their sockets so they can plow their nails ruthlessly into His hands.  They do the same to His feet.  The pain that radiates from His arms alone should kill Him, and yet He continues to suffer on.  How great are my sins Lord that You should still suffer?

The cross is lifted and dropped into a whole in the ground where Jesus hangs for the next three hours.  Struggling to breathe, He must lift Himself up off the cross by His pierced feet.  How painful each breath must be.

Jesus looks around from His perch and sees His mother again.  There she is STANDING.  He can no longer stand, so she does for Him.  Standing a pillar of strength for her Son and for us.  He sees His executioners.  Father forgive them, they know not what they do.  Then He sees the many many souls in the crowd He knows will never choose Him.  So many souls He cannot save because they refuse Him and He shouts I thirst!.  Oh how He thirsts for us, for our souls!  Will we quench His thirst?  Will I give myself to Him today, tomorrow and always?  Will I serve?  Will I deny myself, take up my cross and follow Him?  How can I not?  I know I will stumble and fall, just like He did on His way to Calvary, but this time, I will have Him to pick me up.  How can I not give You, Jesus, my all?

Finally, after hours of pain and suffering Jesus knows the end is near.  To Mary Woman behold thy son and to John Son behold by mother.  The last greatest act of mercy Jesus gave our world, was His mothers!  Then Jesus screams Into they hands I commend my spirit.  And it is done!  He bows His head and His spirit leaves His body.  The centurion pierces His side and is immediately converted by the blood and water that flow from Jesus and wash over Him.  His eyes are opened and for the first time, the Centurion sees.

Silence.  Complete silence.  Emptiness.  Nothingness.  Despair.  Then the earth quakes and a storm rolls in.  Our Blessed Mother, stands steadfastly in front of her son, awaiting the moment He will be lowered down into her arms.  She stands for us!  Mary accepts Jesus' lifeless body as it is lowered into her lap and with great tenderness she kisses His face.  She holds Him close to her bosom.

When Mary is finally ready, she opens her arms so Joseph of Arimathea can bury Jesus' body.  His burial place was used.  New, clean.  Jesus is placed in the tomb and the stone is rolled in it's place.  It is finished.

Rosary Meditation: The Carrying of the Cross

Here is a meditation for the fourth Sorrowful mystery.  You can go here for a meditation on the first Sorrowful mystery, here for a meditation on the second Sorrowful mystery, and here for a meditation on the third Sorrowful mystery.

NOTE:  This is my own personal interpretation of scripture.  If you'd like exact quotations or actions, feel free to read each gospel account of these mysteries.

TIP:  Sometimes I meditate on all portions of this scene and sometimes just on a few moments.  I allow God to guide my mind and if I get distracted (which can happen from time to time with kids in the room), I simply return to the last moment I can recall.

For the fourth station, I tend to meditate on the various scenes from the Stations of the Cross. I'll briefly mention them below but won't go into detail.

The Carrying of the Cross

Pilate just sentenced Jesus to death and a large crowd lines the streets of Jerusalem, waiting to catch of glimpse of the defeated, so-called "King of the Jews".  They are curious but they are also thirsty for blood.  The gates open and the guards are rushed by a crowd of men, possessed with hatred for Jesus.  The guards push the men back.  Jesus looks around.  He sees the crowd of people.  His people that only 7 days ago, welcomed Him into these streets while waving palm leaves as He rode a donkey.  How can hearts be turned so quickly?  How can man be so fickle?  

Two guards drag Jesus' cross and place it on His back.  He wraps His arms around His cross, embracing it.  With eye closed He takes a deep breath and for one quick moment, He finds peace.  He knows this is what He was made for. So Jesus takes up His cross and stumbles down the street.

As He walks, the crowd begins to close in on Jesus more and more.  They are waiting for a moment of weakness. Just one.  And it's not long before they get it.  Jesus falls the first time.  The crowd rushes at Him, kicking and stomping on Him.  Cursing at Him.  Guards spend several minutes trying to break up the crowd.  At last, the beatings stop and Jesus has no time to recover.  He is whipped and a guard yells for Him to stand.  He takes up His cross again.

Jesus walks a short while when He sees His mother, there in front of Him.  She stands in the middle of the street.  They make eye contact and she imparts all of her strength to Him.  He knows now.  No I am not alone.  You are here, my mother.  We can do this together.  We can save this world.  Oh the pain in His mother's eyes is not for herself but for Him.  How she longs to take Him home with her, to clean Him up and nurse Him back to health as any mother would.  But something is communicated in the split seconds they have together.  No, mother.  This is the time.  I must complete this journey.  And Mary responds Than I will stay with you.  And that is enough for Jesus to keep going.

He stumbles and falls again, but this time the guards are ready for the encroaching crowd.  They ward them off with only a few blows to our Lord's body.  Yet, by now He has lost almost half of His blood.  By now He should collapse on the street unable to get up again.  However, He stands!  Once again our Lord Jesus stands!

Jesus meets Veronica who wipes His face. He comforts the crying women of Jerusalem.  He finds time and strength to give even more.  He falls the third and final time but as He looks up from the ground He can see, Golgotha, only a hundred yards away.  

Jesus gets up one final time, to complete His way of the cross.

Rosary Meditation: The Crowing of Thorns

Here is a meditation for the third Sorrowful mystery.  You can go here for a meditation on the first Sorrowful mystery and here for a meditation on the second Sorrowful mystery.

NOTE:  This is my own personal interpretation of scripture.  If you'd like exact quotations or actions, feel free to read each gospel account of these mysteries.

TIP:  Sometimes I meditate on all portions of this scene and sometimes just on a few moments.  I allow God to guide my mind and if I get distracted (which can happen from time to time with kids in the room), I simply return to the last moment I can recall.

The Crowning of Thorns

Jesus is lugged back to a holding cell after the terrible scourging.  He has lost so much blood, it would be impossible for any of us to go on.  Yet He does.  The blood is beginning to congeal and some of His lacerations are beginning to close.  But not for long.

When our Lord reaches His cell, a crowd of guards are awaiting His arrival.  They surround Him.  He once again is alone.  They throw a red cloak over Him and find a cap of thorns.  They push it down hard on His head, laughing and mocking Jesus saying All Hail, King of the Jews!.  Blood drips down His face from every puncture wound each thorn makes.  His head is throbbing in pain.  His vision is blurry.  He sees flashes of light and shooting pain comes from behind His eyes.  Again, the Lamb of God, is spat upon, kicked, hit, humiliated.  Again He is brought to His knees writhing in pain.  But He doesn't shout out.  He doesn't complain.  He doesn't smite these lost souls so full of hatred for Him.  

No.  Jesus, ever loving and compassionate, prays for them.  He prays for these executioners, these sadistic men who seem to be possessed with evil.  Our Lord calls out to God and prays for their souls' release, for their eyes to be open and for them to see the truth.  But it is not a prayer God the Father can answer right now.  Jesus knows He must complete His journey first.  He must take up His cross.  He must continue on.  He must show tremendous courage and fortitude.

Once the guards have had their fill, they rip off the red cloak and with it, all the skin and dried blood that had adhered itself to it. His wounds are now open and oozing again!  Oh, my Lord, Jesus when will it stop?!  When will we stop?! They walk away leaving Him shaky, sweaty, bleeding from head to toe with a cap of thorns fixed upon His head.  

Time goes by and Jesus is finally brought back to Pilate.  By this time, it's later in the morning and the crowds are getting riled up by the high priests.  They begin to shout and protest.  Pilate, afraid a fight will break out among the crowd and get carried away, tries to appease them.  He shows Jesus off, pointing out the stripes He received from His scourging, much like a zoo animal is shown off by a zookeeper.  Pilate offers the crowd a choice, between Jesus and Barabbas, but the crowd refuses to give in.  They take Barabbas, a known murderer over their Lord, their Savior for which they have waited thousands of years..  Yet, they do not stop there.  They will NOT take NO for an answer.  They will be happy only when the last drop of this Lamb's blood is shed.  And so Pilate acquiesces.  He sentences Jesus to death; death on the cross. 

Rosary Meditation: The Scourging at the Pillar

Here is a meditation for the second Sorrowful mystery.  You can go here for a meditation on the first Sorrowful mystery.

NOTE:  This is my own personal interpretation of scripture.  If you'd like exact quotations or actions, feel free to read each gospel account of these mysteries.

TIP:  Sometimes I meditate on all portions of this scene and sometimes just on a few moments.  I allow God to guide my mind and if I get distracted (which can happen from time to time with kids in the room), I simply return to the last moment I can recall.

The Scourging at the Pillar

Jesus is pushed, pulled and dragged along the streets of Jerusalem, like an animal until He reaches Pontius Pilate.  Pilate is a small man, clinging to his office of Roman Prefect of Judea.  He doesn't want any incidents that may cause scandal.  So he tries to hand off Jesus to King Herod.

Again, Jesus is dragged through the streets like a common criminal.  When he arrives at Herod's gates, the Lord God, the Word Incarnate, is greeted with barbarian curiosity.  Jesus is viewed as a spectacle to behold, as if those in attendance were viewing a circus act. Once again, our Lord is mocked and spat upon.  He's dismissed from the "almighty Herod" and sent back to Pilate to await His fate.

Pilate, annoyed by this nuisance, our Lord is now becoming to him, decides to appease the crowd.  He knows Jesus has done nothing wrong, but he is a spineless man.  So he orders Jesus to be flogged.  

Jesus is tied to a pillar, His body bare.  And the whipping begins.  His skin is ripped open by sticks, whips and other weapons.  He is repeatedly hit over and over again.  Not 39 times as in Jewish law, but as many times as it took until the Roman guards were too exhausted to go on.  Was it 40 times?  50?  80?  100 times?  Over and over again He is whipped.  Over and over again, He gives His body up to God the Father for us, for our sins.  Through His wounds we can be healed.

Finally, the whipping stops.  But only for a short time, as Jesus our Lord is now turned over and facing forward now, looking straight ahead at the brutal faces staring back at Him with contempt, with pure hatred, the torture begins all over again.  Over and over again our Lord silently cries out to the Father.  Father forgive them.  Father forgive them.  No words are heard, but mercy is His plea.

The time has come where the guards are completely finished.  They have no energy left with which to beat our Lord.  With lacerations and blood covering His body, He is dragged and thrown into a holding cell, leaving a trail of blood, His most precious blood, behind Him.

Rosary Meditation: The Agony in the Garden

 
The Rosary is such a beautiful devotion that includes both vocal prayer and mental prayer, in particular meditation on the scriptural life, passion, death and Resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ.  Even though the Blessed Mother has specifically asked for us to pray the Rosary daily numerous times, including through her apparitions at Fatima, so many of us still struggle with it.  One of the common complaints I have heard others say over and over about the Rosary is that they have difficulty with the mental prayer portion of the devotion.  They find themselves praying the Our Fathers (i.e. the Lords prayer) and Hail Marys (i.e. Angelic Salutation), but they have real difficulty praying these prayers while visualizing each particular mystery. So I thought I'd share what types of things come to my mind when I'm meditating on the various mysteries of the Rosary.  Since we have entered into Holy Week 2016, the climax of our Lenten season, I have been focusing more on the Sorrowful Mysteries lately, I thought what better way to prepare for this week than to meditate on these five mysteries.  Let's begin with the first Sorrowful Mystery, the Agony of the Garden.

NOTE:  This is my own personal interpretation of scripture.  If you'd like exact quotations or actions, feel free to read each gospel account of these mysteries.

TIP:  Sometimes I meditate on all portions of this scene and sometimes just on a few moments.  I allow God to guide my mind and if I get distracted (which can happen from time to time with kids in the room), I simply return to the last moment I can recall.

 The Agony in the Garden

I see the 12 lounging at the table around our Lord, just finishing up the Last Supper.  Full.  Satisfied.  Our Lord just consecrated the bread and wine, transforming it into His body and blood right in front of His apostles, yet they know not what He has done.  They understand not what this sacrifice truly means.  He dips the bread into the wine at the moment Judas does the same.  Their eyes meet and Judas knows he cannot hide his plan from Jesus.  Jesus speaks.  Go.  Do what you must.  And Judas walks out.  The remaining 11 look at each other having no idea what just transpired.  

Jesus sits, amidst His beloved 11, yet completely alone.  He rises and they head out to the Garden of Gethsemane, leaving His Mother and the other women who prepared the meal to finish their work.  The moment the door shuts, His Mother, Mary, stops what she is doing.  She feels His presence leave the house.  She knows.  It is time.  It has begun.  Mary closes her eyes and prays for Her Son. 

In the darkness of the night, He asks His 11 to stay and wait for Him, while He prays.  He takes Peter, James and John with Him and asks them to stay and wait with Him.  They say "Of course" but look at each other questioning what He means.  Kneeling on the rocky ground, moonlight and shadows dance across His face, He begins to pray.   Sweat and blood trickle from His forehead.  Take this cup away from me.  Not my will but yours be done.  He falls prostrate on the ground.  The three, Peter, James and John, hear the muffled pains of His prayer, look to one another and shrug, not knowing what awaits.  

Jesus returns to the group now sleeping.  Can you not stay awake with me for one hour?  Keep watch that you may not be put to the test.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.  The feeling of isolation creeps in again.  Alone.  Again He leaves to pray a second time.  Kneeling, lying prostrate, face down on the ground.  Shaking.  Sweating.  Bleeding.  Where are You, Father?  Who will stay with me?  

Jesus returns to His apostles, His friends, and again he finds them sleeping.  Leaving a third time to pray, Jesus knows what lies ahead of Him.  He knows He will be doing this on His own.  His disciples will not stay with Him.  He sees that now.  

Jesus returns the third time and finds them asleep again.  Wake up.  The hour is at hand.  Looking up, Jesus sees Judas with a dozen Jewish soldiers arriving.  Judas walks up to Him, smiles and gives Him a kiss on the cheek.  Judas, do you betray your Lord with a kiss?  Soldiers try to handcuff Jesus and chaos breaks out.  Jesus' legs and hands are shackled and His neck is tethered.  Several disciples scatter.  Peter draws his sword and cuts the ear off of a roman soldier.  Peter!  Do you not know, those who live by the sword will die by the sword?  Peter looks with tears into Jesus' eyes, and he knows he cannot win this fight.  So Peter runs and hides in the forest watching from afar.  In His great mercy, Jesus heals the soldier and then He is pulled like cattle to the High-Priest's house.  Peter follows, far behind, not wanting to leave our Lord but remaining hidden among the brush.

The soldiers arrive taking Jesus to see Caiaphas, at a secret night meeting where only those high-priests who feared or hated Jesus are present.  Out in the courtyard Peter is confronted.  Aren't you one of them?  Aren't you with Jesus of Nazareth?  Didn't I see you with him?  Peter responds.  No.  You are mistaken.  It wasn't me!  Then the cock crows.  Peter fleas.  From the holding place where our Lord is shackled to the wall, He looks toward the courtyard, knowing Peter has denied Him a third time and He hangs His head.  Completely alone.

Jesus is questioned by the high priests but He refuses to answer to them, mere men.  They hit Him, spit upon Him, curse Him.  He stands.  He takes it all upon Himself.  They decide to send Him to Pontius Pilate.

Walking The Path To My Calvary

I reach up, holding this plank with shaky hands, sweat pouring down my forehead.  With weak knees, I stumble over this barren earth losing my balance when stepping on the smallest of pebbles.  Down I crash, hitting the ground.  Hard.  This hefty timber comes tumbling down upon me and there I lay, barely breathing under it's great weight.  Silence.  Complete darkness.  I am all alone.  This is the time I question my own strength.  Can I go on?  Is it even worth it?  Why do I try?  And then, just as sunshine rises over the horizon and night is met with all the promise of a new day, the weight is lifted and the darkness fades.  In it's stead, staring back at me, I see the kindest, most compassionate eyes, filled with tears, filled with my pain.  He reaches out his hand to me and helps me up.  I reposition my substantial load, equally distributing it's weight across my back.  I check my balance before I begin to walk.  Walk again.  It's then that I look up for the first time to see whom I should thank for rescuing me.  Who was this hero?  And there He stands, bent forward, sweat and blood running down His face.  But He stands.  He does not waiver.  He does not stumble.  He stands.  He stands for me.  He embraces His tremendous cross, such a weight I cannot even fathom carrying.  I look at the small bundle of wood I am supposed to lug on my back and realize how small my cross has become.  That large plank, the great weight I was suffocating under, is no longer there.  It has been replaced by a much smaller version.  My little cross.  I look to my Lord and see His eyes pleading for me to pick it up and take my little cross.  So I do.  I fling it on my back and together we journey along this path.  I still feel it's weight on my body, trying to push me down.  I still feel the grief, despair and sadness that sits heavily upon me.  Yet, I know, this road that I travel is not one I travel alone.  I can carry on, I can continue, because He has taken on my burdens and relieved me of the impossible.  So with joy and tremendous effort, I take my next step.

I had such grand ideas of the Lenten journey I'd take this year.  How my heart would be transformed!  How close I would become to my Jesus!  Yet, the Father had other plans for me.  This entire season has been spent at doctors offices, urgent care centers, and emergency rooms.  Fighting colds and banishing fevers has been the plight of my poor children for most of the month of February.  But the boys finally kicked their cold and things began to look up.  Spring was coming and winter would be gone soon enough.  We could get through this, right?

Up until a week ago, I felt we were coming out of the haze sickness leaves over a household, when it was my turn for the ER visit.  Last week, my husband and I suffered our third miscarriage.  The third baby I will never get to hold against my skin, nurse, bathe, or smell that newborn baby smell.  The third child I'll never watch grow up.  The third adult I'll never send to college or see get married.  Therefore, my cross became too great, much too great for me or my husband to carry alone.  We were stumbling and falling beneath it's weight.  And if I'm being completely honest, there were moments when I didn't want to get back up again.  I didn't want to take on this cross, to carry this grief, this pain, this loss.  I didn't want to go through this AGAIN.  Yet, God the Father knew how difficult this would be for us and in His great goodness and generosity, He sent us beautiful mercies along the way.  The best part was that He made me aware of these mercies when they were happening and the consolation of knowing He was with us, helped us both to keep going and to get out of bed in each morning.

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of times I felt alone, abandoned even.  If anyone has ever experienced a miscarriage at the ER, you know how matter-of-fact these things are taken and how little if any care or sympathy is expressed.  During my examinations, while alone with numerous emotionless medical personnel, I was wondering, just as my Jesus had on Calvary, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?".  Intellectually I knew God was there.  My Blessed Mother was there, holding me, stroking my hair.  I knew it, but I couldn't feel it.  The emptiness!  The great nothingness!  It's a darkness I do not wish upon my worst enemies.  This is the cross I had fallen beneath.  It's a cross I must carry every day and one I am trying desperately to carry well.

You know, it's funny, because life actually goes on.  The earth has the nerve to rotate around the sun and time has the gall to march on.  In spite of my heartache, the world continues to move.  How cruel and yet how satisfying to know some things never change.  To know this great tragedy of ours will not become the "be all and end all" and life will go on, is both terrifying and reassuring at the same time.  Am I still stumbling over the little pebbles of life?  You better believe it.  Do I fall sometimes thinking I can't or don't want to get up?  It's part of the process, a process I know all too well.  But do I know my Lord, Jesus, has taken the most burdensome parts of my cross upon His back?  Do I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this Lent, I walk this path to my Calvary in the greatest company?  Oh, praise God for this knowledge!  Praise God for this truth!  I do not walk this path alone.  It gives me joy, no matter how difficult it may be, to suffer alongside my Jesus and if I must suffer, let me, Lord, suffer well with You, for the greatest good of all souls!

  

Ready for Lent 2016

It's that time again! Time for renewal, transformation, and repentance.  A time for great sacrifice and also great hope! I love the Lenten season so much, I cannot fully put into words what it means to me.  For years my Lenten experience was very personal and to some extent it still very much is. Yet now I'm a wife and mother and my vocation expects me to share more of myself than was ever required before marriage. All the moms reading this understand what I'm talking about. Motherhood is a daily martyrdom to oneself. We are constantly giving and sacrificing and doing, and working, and so on and so forth. Most days, especially mothers with little ones or those with children who have special needs, are tired, no, exhausted, barely able to open our eyes in the darkness of the morning when our youngest cries out. But we do it. We get up and the dying to ourselves begins again. 

Lent is another one of those great sacrifices for mothers and fathers. We desperately want and need to be refreshed and renewed in the blood of the lamb. But we are also spending all of our free time with our family, in the noisy hustle and bustle that child rearing is. How hard it is to find any time for silence and listening to the voice of our Lord!  How difficult it becomes to really participate in the Lenten process in order to make the transformation we desperately need! That is why, for me, preparing my house for Lent is more than necessary. 

I need to be reminded on a daily basis of the liturgical season in which we are currently.  I need that visual to make me stop and be present in the many moments of sacrifice a day so I don't waste any suffering,  any penance,  any sacrifice or annoyance. I need my eyes to tell my brain over and over again to "offer it up". I also need these decorations to illustrate to my children that this time of the year is a very very special time and different than any other time of the year.  So this is the motivation behind decorating my house for Lent. It's not for the purpose of enhancing beauty but to bring us all closer to the Lord.

This is how I prepared for Lent this year.  The picture at the top of this post shows our dining room table. I just added a purple runner and this cross centerpiece for our family dinners.

I made this centerpiece by using an old picture frame ( I added a black piece of construction paper inside of the frame just to give it a black background) with simple black rocks (I actually found in the aquarium area at Walmart), and votive candles that I bought at a thrift store.

My plan is to begin by lighting each candle nightly at dinner and as the weeks get closer and closer to The Passion of Christ we will blow out one candle each week. This is a visual way to show my children that the "Light of the World" was extinguished from this material world on Good Friday.  A friend of a friend came up with this idea and I thought it was perfect for my family. I'll share pictures of what we will do to celebrate the Easter season when that time comes.

I placed some plastic purple flowers (I bought 4 stems at $.97/each a few weeks ago!) around the house in a few places just as another reminder of this beautiful time repentance. 

Seven feet of purple tule I purchased for less than a dollar. I simply wrapped it around the staircase so that we are greeted with a sign of Lent as soon as we walk into our front door.

Covering our crucifixes was the hardest thing for me to do. How I miss seeing my Jesus' face when I pray to Him! But I knew I needed to do it, for myself and my family.

All the purple cloth was purchased for about  $7 total. I simply cut it up to use to cover my crucifixes and as my dining room table runner.

And that's it! I don't decorate my entire house just the living areas and our prayer room. One day maybe I'll share a picture of that room with you. But not yet. ;)

This is a beautiful Lenten meditation book we are going to read and follow daily as a family during Lent. It is written by Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle (there is a Lenten sale going on right now and you can get four of these meditation books for $11 at this link). She has numerous ones for various saints. I purchased the ones with St. Pope John Paul II, Bl. Mother Theresa and this one above with my lovely Little Flower, St. Terese of Lisieux. 

What I like about these meditation books is that they are written for families. Each day offers  a meditation, a story about the Saint's life, a suggestion of what to fast from that day, and prayers that you can pray as a family together. It's a beautiful way to reconnect as a family, and a way to emulate such wonderful

Saints during this Lenten time.

So that's how we have prepared ourselves for Lent 2016! I would love to hear your ideas as well.

Blessings to you and yours,

Good Friday Poem!

A Good Friday Poem

By: Maria Del Duca

Catholicinthechaos.com

The betrayal with a kiss

in the garden has been made. 

In the middle of the night, 

like a thief they take him 

with clubs and swords.

Secret trial and false accusations!

Peter's third denial 

as the cock crows.

Apostles have scattered.

Where is His support?

Like a lamb to the slaughter 

He is bound and lead to Pilot.

Whipped, scourged, spat upon.

Kicked, hit, beaten, blows to the head.

Loss of half of His blood

standing there, alone.  ALONE.

"Crucify him!" yells the crowd.

The coward washes his hands

but not his soul,

of this death sentence.

Embracing the cross!

Hugging the cross!

Struggling to walk,

slowing putting one foot 

in front of the other.

Beaten, kicked, falling.

So weak.  How to go on?

He sees his mother.

His face is wiped.

He stands with Simon.

Together they drag

the cross to Golgotha!

Nails in his wrists!

Nails through his feet!

Crown of thorns pushed

more deeply in his head.

Gasping for breath.

Loosing blood.

So weak.

Pushing himself up:

"I thirst"

"This is your mother,

this your son."

"My God, my God

why have you forsaken me?"

"It is finished!"

At the foot of the cross,

a mother's heart is broken.

Tears streaming down her face,

but no words of protest

ever touch her lips.

The baby she nursed,

the toddler she consoled,

the preschooler she guided,

the school age child she taught,

the teenager with whom she shared jokes,

the man she adored and admired,

has now expired.

The light in her eyes 

has been extinguished.

Her despair is beyond belief.

A part of herself has died,

how can she go on?

Alone?  ALONE...

...until they meet again.

Parents: Washing the Feet of Others!

Happy Holy Triduum, 2015!

I was searching for a picture I could share with you without violating copyright and I found this beautiful picture on Google images (labeled for reuse and reuse with modification).  Isn't it just beautiful?!

The reason it jumped out at me from the number of other pictures I could have used is that upon a quick first glance, to me, Jesus reminded me of a woman wearing an apron.  Not because He looks like a woman, but because of how nurturing this action is.

It made me think of how often we as mothers (and fathers for those of you reading this) are washing the feet of our children, literally and figuratively.  How often we are cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, folding, organizing, teaching, mentoring, preparing, etc. for our families!  How many times a day we are thinking of ways to keep our houses going.  How many times we write those grocery lists, to do lists, up date calendars, make appointments, etc.  And every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME we do these actions for our family members we are being Jesus to them.  We are washing their feet!  

Oh how this thought lightened my heart!  To know that just through my daily hum drum actions I too can be Jesus to others?  I too can give, can provide a self-sacrifice for others?  I too can be humble just like our Lord, and our Blessed Mother who was the ultimate model of humility?  What a feeling!

So I just wanted to take a moment today, on Holy Thursday to say "thank you" to all the mothers and fathers our there "washing the feet" of their families. Thank you for being Jesus to others!

May you have a very blessed and holy, Holy Thursday!

Blessings to you and yours,

Using the "Sacred Minutes" this Lent!

It's Wednesday of Holy Week and I'm attempting to mentally and spiritually prepare myself to participate in the Holy Triduum.  However, with a 6 month old constantly crying for my attention (he seems to be obsessed with his mama), a 4 year old continually wanting attention, time, food, snacks and playtime with mom, and a house still full of boxes to unpack from our recent move, it can be very hard to find time to prepare the way I'd like. This is really my favorite time of year spiritually.  Yet, sometimes it seems that life throws all of it's distractions at me right at the time I most want to meditate and sit in the presence of our Lord.  I guess I could do one of two things: 1) give up trying to pray and meditate in frustration and just "get through each day" or 2) I can see these distractions as my participation of Christ's passion by carrying my own daily cross and choose to use the "sacred minutes".

What? You've never heard of the "sacred minutes"?  Well since I believe I coined the phrase, I'm not surprised.  The "sacred minutes" are what I like to call the 2 or 3 minutes of silence (or relative quite) I may get several times a day when Pickle may be playing with his toys and little Bean may be distracted watching him.  Or they may be those minutes without distraction, when I'm cooking dinner, doing the laundry, cleaning the bathrooms (Ugh!), washing the dishes or even (if I'm lucky to NOT be disturbed) in the bathroom.  The "sacred minutes" when I can quietly in my heart and mind just ask the Lord to be present in my thoughts, words, and heart.  Those very few "sacred moments" when I may think of a station or  two and meditate on Jesus' way of the cross and our Blessed Mother's great sorrows.  Those "sacred moments" that can possibly even add up to 20 or 30 minutes a day, if I choose to spend my time wisely, where I can immerse myself in Christ's passion.

So today and the rest of this week, I am making this promise to myself, to the Blessed Mother, and to Jesus, our Lord, that I will not throw my hands up in frustration and give up on reaching out to Him during the day, but rather I will use my "sacred moments" and bring Him into my life, right where I am at the moment.

Hopefully you can use your "sacred moments" this week as well.

Blessings to you and yours,

Stations of the Cross Easter Egg Set

I was inspired by Catholic Icing's brilliant idea to use plastic Easter eggs to introduce and pray the Stations of the Cross with little ones.  So I decided to make our own version of this set.

I'm a fan of bright colors so as you can see the eggs I used for my "stations" are quite colorful.  In each egg is a picture and label of the specific station.  The three blue eggs I left empty and represent the 3 days our Lord's body and soul were separated from each other (also known as "death").  With these eggs we discuss that Jesus "descended to the dead" (not hell) and preached to those already passed away and whomever chose to follow Him, then went to heaven and those who refused Him went...downtown so to speak. ;)

The golden egg...ahhh the golden egg!  Well you can imagine what that is!  That's our Resurrection Egg!  You can't talk about Jesus' way of the cross without adding the END of the story...His glorious resurrection!  In this egg, I have a picture of the risen Christ.  Sometimes I add the word "Alleluia" and we talk about how we cannot say "Alleluia" during Lent but on Easter Sunday we get to say it again!  Sometimes, I simply add a small piece of chocolate because there is nothing sweeter than the end of this beautiful story!  Is there?  So part of the fun of the stations is always discovering what Mom put the golden egg!

Tip: To stuff the stations eggs, I actually just did a google images search and found pictures of the stations that I liked, copied and pasted each station, one by one, into a powerpoint document, resized to make it small enough for the egg, printed, cut out and placed in the corresponding numbered egg. Below is an example of how I did this, however I do not have the permission to share these pictures for public reuse, so I can only show you how I did this for my own personal use.  Feel free to do your own google search and find pictures that fit your family's style and your goals!

I then made additional pictures, one for each station, that represents each station.  I used pictures from Microsoft's powerpoint clipart which is available to the general public therefore I can share them with you.  If you would like your own clean copy, you can grab it here!

What do all the pictures mean?  Here's a quick cheat sheet for you:

1.  Handcuffs represent when Jesus when bound up and condemned to death.

2.  Wooden cross represents when Jesus picked up His cross.

3. 7. 9. Each band aid represents the times Jesus fell. 

4.  A picture of the Immaculate Heart of Mary represents when Jesus met His mother along His way to Calvary.  We also discuss how her heart was breaking watching her son suffer so!

5.  HELP represents Simon of Cyrene who helped Jesus carry His cross.

6.  Cloth represents the cloth Veronica with which she wiped Jesus' face.

8.  Tissues to represent the weeping women Jesus meets and comforts along the way.

10. Dice to represent how Jesus was stripped of His clothing and then His clothes were "won" by a dice game.

11.  Hammer and nails represent Jesus being nailed to the cross.

12.  Crucifixion picture to represent His death on the cross.

13.  Crown of thorns to represent Him being taken down from the cross, de-clothed and re-clothed, prepared for burial. (I know this isn't the best picture representation but I had a hard time thinking of something to represent taking Him down from the cross)

14. Tomb to represent how Jesus was placed in a tomb. 

Ok so...what do we do with these eggs? Well we have used them several different ways so far:

1. Exploration/Discovery:  The first thing I did was show Pickle the pictures that correspond with each station.  We looked at each picture and wondered allowed what each picture has to do with each station and made an "educated guess" as to what each station would be.  Then we opened up the corresponding egg and read the station name and looked at each picture.  I answered all of Pickle's questions as we went along. Simply doing this to introduce the stations for the first time took well over a half hour.  So be prepared the first time around you may be spending more time on exploring and explaining each station than actually "praying" them.  However, if you ask me that's a prayer in and of itself! ;) 
   
2. Hide-n-Seek:  This is a simple but fun game for young kiddos who need some movement when learning new information.  It does not make the stations any less reverent, so have fun and enjoy watching your kiddos learn about the Lord's way of the cross!  You can do this game one of two ways:
1. Hide the egg; take the corresponding picture and try to match it to the correctly numbered egg. 
   
2. Hide the corresponding picture; take the numbered egg and try to find the correct corresponding picture.  Either way you play this game, you can still spend as much time as you need discussing and explaining each station.
3. Stations-on-the-Move:  Create a space in one room or all around your house (or even in your backyard, if you are lucky enough to not have SNOW still in it),  place your "stations eggs" in numerical order.  Have your family move from one station to the next stopping at each egg, reading the station and either discussing the station or praying the following traditional prayer (which you can follow with an Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be if your kiddos are up for it):
   
4. Coloring Stations Match-Up:  You can download a number of different FREE coloring sheets for the stations of the cross.  Here is one from St. John the Baptist Religious Education page and also one from Catholic Playground.  Discuss each station while being colored and after all are colored you can match up the corresponding egg to colored page.  Or, because we love moving and learning, place each colored sheet along the floor in a liner fashion.  Then have your children place the correct egg on each colored sheet.  When stopping at each station you can pray the traditional prayer or have your children come up with their own simple prayer. My Pickle came up with simply "Thank you Jesus for dying for us." and he said that at each station.

So that's it!  So far these are the ways we have been participating and praying the Stations of the Cross with my little guys (well really only my 4 year old b/c my now 5 month old, well he's just there to listen)!

Have other ideas?  PLEASE DO SHARE by commenting below!  I'd love some more clever ways to use this egg set!

Blessings to You and Yours,

 

Why I Can't Wait to Go to Confession Next Week!

The very best reconciliation experience I have ever had just happened to me recently.  Now when I say the BEST allow me to put this into perspective for you. I mean the best experience I have had from years of many good ones including some amazing confession experiences when on retreats, to confessions with a wonderful spiritual director I had for several years.  So I am not new to pleasing reconciliation experiences.  

I guess that is the funny thing about us as humans.  Now that I think about it, over the last few decades of going to confession, I have had so many great confessional experiences yet the one that really made me question whether to return or not was the one and only (so far) bad experience I had a few years ago.  It always seems that the negative experiences outweigh the positive, that the bad memories are recalled more often than the good.  How strange we humans are!

Anyway, I digress.  Back to my original story.  Preparing for this Lenten season I wanted to be ready to receive and share whatever graces with which the Lord is willing to bless me.  Therefore, I thought what better preparation than to begin with a clean slate?  

So I again mustered the courage (yes I still have to muster it b/c of my previously bad experience)to head on over to confession early one Saturday morning.  Now there were a million and a half reasons NOT to go to confession that morning.  One, it was so cold outside and I just wanted to stay in my pjs in the nice warm house and snuggle with my kids. Two, the time confession was to start my son was still nursing.  Three, by the time I arrived there was a LONG line for the confessional.  I debated leaving and returning another time when it was less busy.  But I knew in my heart all of these things were just reasons I was creating to postpone my need to walk into that confessional door and ever so humbly lay out my sins to the world (or at least to the priest and Jesus).  So, I did it anyway!

It's not like I had these terrible sins to confess.  I mean, I'm pretty sure, most people who went into the confessional that day said the same sorts of things.  But there I was once again, waiting, anxiously fearfully waiting.  Waiting for what?  Judgment.  THAT'S why we dislike confession so much I think.  We humbly hang our heads in shame in front of that privacy screen or for the very brave, sitting across from the priest, and wait for the judgment that is to inevitably come upon us.  The irony is that am I so fearful of the judgment here on earth but think so little of the judgment that will most definitely come upon me in the next life!  I mean seriously, who wants to see the face of God with a mortal sin on their souls, but telling a priest how I yelled at my husband and lost patience with my kids seems too much to emotionally bare?  Sheesh, I HAVE to put this confession thing into perspective! 

Eventually my turn in line came and I took the long walk down the hall to the confessional.  Dead man walking! yelled a voice in my mind.  I turned the knob and pushed open the heaviest door I'd ever had to open.  Seriously, what did they make this door out of, steel? I knelt down.  Screech, bang, click! Was that a jail cell or the confessional door closing? 

Out of breath and with sweaty palms, I launched into "Forgive me father for I have sinned...".  Oh my gosh, did my voice just crack?  Quickly, quickly like pulling a band-aid off skin.  Let's get this pain over with.  And before I knew it, I has shared all my offenses.  Whew!  Surprisingly, the priest did not scream and run from the room in terror, nor did he begin to bless me with holy water and in the name of Jesus Christ "compel" me.  Ever so softly and sweetly, this tender confessor encouraged me on my faith journey, counseled me on other ways to handle various situations, absolved me from my sins, blessed me, and told me to "go in peace".  Wow, it was over! Sweet relief!

Then the most extraodinary thing happened.  He thanked me.  The priest thanked ME for coming to confession!  He was truly GRATEFUL that I came that day to the confessional to reunite myself with Christ.  This priest, who was already running almost 15 mins late from all the confessions previously heard, took the time to THANK ME!  Of course, I started to cry!  And no the irony does not escape me that both my worst and best reconciliation experiences ended in tears. 

It was an amazing moment b/c I finally realized something.  After all these years of going to confession, I finally understood something that I never even thought about before. Not only do I receive the amazing graces the Lord bestows on me during this beautiful sacrament, but so does the priest if he is open to receiving this grace.  We both are ACTIVE participants and therefore also RECIPIENTS of this grace!  Yes, he is here to judge me with the Lord's prudence, compassion and love, but he also receives the fruitfulness that comes from me being present confessing my sins.  Together we are helping each other become more Christ-like!  

I never thought of confession this way.  I saw it as something I must do to repair my relationship with God.  But what if I didn't go?  What if NO ONE went?  How could our earthly shepherds, our priests, fulfill their vocations? I single handedly (well maybe not single handedly since it takes more than just me), am helping this priest fulfill his duties here on earth.  I am not only receiving pardon and peace but I'm granting him to opportunity to GIVE pardon and peace to another; to fill the need to lead others to the Lord.  

I was as light as a feather and as happy as a clam (which I suppose must be really happy because many people use this expression)!  I jumped up and opened that door with one hand.  Whoa!  That door was so light it almost got away from me.  What was it made of, styrofoam?  I was joyous.  Deeply emotional, yes.  But joyous none the less.  I practically skipped to my car.  All is right with the world!  I have been forgiven AND I have been thanked which means I have been valued.

Dare I say it? I do indeed dare. I can't wait to go to confession next week!!!!

Blessings to You and Yours,  

Why I Vowed NEVER to Return to Confession!

I grew up in a household where going to confession every other weekend was the norm.  Every other Saturday, my family of 9 (minus my mother who boycotts such Catholic “events”), would hop into the station wagon (the golden age before “the minivan”) and we headed to church to confess all the things we had done over the last 14 days.  The great thing about growing up going to confession all the time is that I never felt the nervous anxiety people say they feel about going to confession.  I didn’t even know that most people didn’t go to confession every other week.  In fact, I was actually surprised to learn that we only are required to go to confession, ONCE a YEAR (unless our soul is in mortal danger).  Say what????

In college, I thought I would “stick it to my parents” by only going to confession once a month. Ha! Take that, suckas!  But once I began that slippery slope of allowing myself to slack on going to confession, I found myself, as I got older and older, making excuses not go to confession and easily fell into the trap of waiting several months between partaking in the sacrament of reconciliation.

Again, I didn’t think much of it because, well hey, I was going way more often than we are “required” to go so I must be doing alright.

 

Then it happened.  The traumatic experience EVERYONE fears will happen in the confessional, happened to ME!  Only a handful of people actually know this story, so…you won’t tell anyone will you (wink, wink)?

 

A while back, after a wonderful Lenten season and lots of prayer on my part in preparation for Easter, I was energized and on fire from the Holy Spirit. I was turning over a new leaf.  No more waiting a few months before heading to that wonderful sacrament of reconciliation.  No more excuses.  “I’m definitely going once a month if not every 3 weeks” I promised myself.  Why not go?  I feel so GREAT afterwards. I mean my sins are forgiven.  FORIGIVEN!  Not just forgotten, not just set aside. NO FORGIVEN.  The slate is wiped clean and I am as fresh as the morning dew and sweet as the smell of a baby’s bottom (well clean bottom that is). Heck yeah!  Let’s get my confession on, people!!

So a week or two after Easter, I found myself in the confessional on a lazy weekday morning.  There was no line.  No one was knocking down the door of the confessional to get in.  It was just me, the priest and Jesus.  Ah! It is gonna be a great day, I thought.

I began ”Forgive me Father for I have sinned! It’s been three weeks since my last confession…”.  Here I went, confessing my struggles over the past 21 days.  I’m feeling good.  This is going well I tell myself.  Why would I ever not want to go to confession? and I’ll never let myself wait so long again I drone on in my head.  All these great feelings running through me as I am confessing when it happened.  “Hmph, ARE YOU GOING TO CONFESS YOUR SINS SOMETIME TODAY?” was shouted at me from the other side of the privacy screen.  I stopped, frozen with fear.  Within milliseconds I think, Did…uh…did that just happen? Did the priest just interrupt me confessing my sins to yell at me for…NOT confessing my sins?  Oh NO HE DIDN’T!  Righteous anger came over me (as least I thought it was righteous). I sighed and shouted right back “GEEZ!”  Ok, ok, so it was not the best come back in the world.  But really, he was just LUCKY other words didn’t come flying out because boy was my brain fighting to keep them contained.  With my hands shaking from anger (and, let's be honest, a bit of fear), I went on and quickly finished my confession.

I know what you are thinking, Why the heck didn’t you just walk out?  Well the truth of the matter is that all this occurred probably within less than 10 seconds from start to finish of my confession (you better believe I said that act of contrition so fast his head was probably spinning).  I was just so shocked that it happened at all and it took all of my effort not to yell at this priest (my parents taught me well), that I just stayed and went through the motions I suppose.  Hey, nobody is ever going to accuse me of being quick thinking in a crisis, that’s for sure.

As soon as I heard the words “Go in peace” I booked it out of that confessional, ran out of the church and got into my car faster than I’d probably moved in a long time.  I cried and cried all the way home, coming up with some very clever quips I told myself I should have said, along the way.  Oh I’m so witty after the fact!

I was devastated. I couldn’t believe I got yelled at by a priest!  In confession.  For not confessing…fast enough?  I felt like a child being scolded by her parents.  I vowed to NEVER go back to confession again!  Never again would I let someone talk to me like that when I was at most vulnerable!  I didn’t want to feel alone in my anger and disappointment.  So I went to the closest "most reliable" (ha!) source to find others who have been in my shoes. I scoured the internet and read stories of people who had horrific, terrifying, traumatic reconciliation experiences and never returned to receive the sacrament in 10, 20, even some 30 years later.  So many stories!  So many people hurt at a time they are sharing all of themselves, the good, the bad and the ugly.  So many people pushed away from the Lord!  My head was spinning and my heart was broken for them because they never received the sacrament again (at the point they wrote those stories on the internet at least).

Then it hit me, like a cold wind smacking me in the face on an icy cold winter morning!  Could I NEVER go back to confession?  Could I NEVER receive this wonderful, blessed sacrament again just because of one man who either was having a bad day or was just a plain ol' flawed human being and a bad confessor?  Just the thought of never feeling that wondrous feeling I get after receiving the sacrament, the feeling of a weight lifted off my shoulders, the feeling as if I am lighter than air, made me stop in my metaphorical tracks.  No I could never deny Jesus the relationship He so desperately wants with me.  And that includes asking for forgiveness and being pardoned for my sins.  

So, I decided I would work on building up the courage to go again “sometime” in the future.  In the meantime, I prayed for the priest that he also learned a lesson in the confessional that day and would show others a compassion and understanding he did not show me.  I still pray for him to this day whenever this story comes to my mind.

To be perfectly honest, it took me several months before I could show my face in a confessional again and no I never returned to confession with that priest.  But those feelings of fear, disappointment, and humiliation have not gone away.  Yes they have lessened a bit but are still all too present. If I just think about going to confession, I get butterflies in my stomach.  I finally understand the feelings of anxiety people have about confession.

In retrospect and after much time processing this situation, I do believe that the devil was at work that day (yes even in a church, I think he tries desperately to be at work).  I believe this experience was one way in which he hopes that I would cease going to confession.  Sadly for him, I have not and will not ever give in!

To those of you out there who have had an awful reconciliation experience, I want to let you know that I’ve been there.  I know how it feels to be humiliated at the moment you are at your most vulnerable.  But I ask you to never let one human being stop you from improving your relationship with Christ.  Thwart the devil’s plan by saying “yes” once again to the sacrament of reconciliation.  I promise you, the feeling you get after receiving the sacrament is so worth it!

To any clergy out there reading this I just want to say “Be kind”.  Yes you have many, many duties.  Yes you are tired and have to look forward to hundreds or thousands of confessions this Lenten season.  But please, please, be careful with your words as you have our hearts, minds, and souls (truly) at your disposal.  You don’t know what anxiety, fear and stress we had to conquer just to walk through that confessional door!  Do NOT push us away from the sacrament of reconciliation.  Just be Christ to us!

After all this serious talk, I thought I'd share this picture to lighten things up a little!

 

Blessings to You and Yours,

P.S. It’s not all gloom and doom.  Soon I shall share with you my very BEST confession experience (which has just happened recently), so stay tuned and look for that in the next few weeks.