My Testimonial...
If left to
me, I will always choose the easy road.
Because, well… it’s easier. When
I stumble across that fork in life’s pathways, I am usually inclined to head
toward rainbows, and French fries, and bubble baths- as opposed to hair shirts,
sacrificing the butter on my toast, and hard workouts. But if the endgame is eternal paradise,
unfortunately I have to put forth a bit more effort. I need to grow in grace, and nine times out
of ten, that can only happen through sacrifice. It’s not that I’m going to do anything to earn
it, but as everyone knows, some kind of personal relationship with our Savior
is going to be essential.
The snafu
arises then when my game plan of easy livin’ meets up with taking on life’s
crosses and growing in holiness. I come
to an impasse because while I understand the tremendous value of crosses, I
still think they’re yucky. The good
ones are gonna hurt. As my dear patron
St. Teresa of Avila quipped to our Lord:
“With how you treat your friends, it’s no wonder you have so few.” So how
am I going to ride that luxury bus on the road to heaven? It surely didn’t seem like I was going to
sort that out to my satisfaction. But, for
some remarkable reason, Jesus decided to accommodate me when some seventeen
years ago He moved us into this particular house in the suburbs.
You see, it
just so happens this home I share with my husband and our youngest, teen-age
child now, is situated a stone’s throw from St. Andrews Catholic Church. I can see the doors that lead to the chapel
and the Blessed Sacrament from my kitchen window. Jesus is practically my next door neighbor.
I’m a cradle
Catholic; I’ve always been on board with having Jesus in my life, but it’s
always been this “good enough” relationship.
I checked the box as each day I “did my duty”: Rosary.
Check. Prayers before bed. Check.
Mass on Sunday. Check. I could hear that still, small voice from
time to time, calling me, calling me to more...
But I’m, as I say, basically looking for the cushy way, and there’s only
so much effort I was willing to put forth into that relationship. I was good enough wasn’t I? At least compared to everyone else.
We had been
living in this house for a number of years when one day the Blessed Mother
decided to take matters into her own hands.
She must have decided I was not living up to my full potential. Mothers sort of know stuff like that. So, one day, she picked me up and carried
me. For whatever reason, I can’t even recall,
I decided to walk over and visit the Blessed Sacrament. Ten
minutes tops. Good enough.
But soon
after those initial random visits, my mother started growing more ill with her
terminal cancer. And the relationship
with my eldest daughter was strained and becoming more difficult. And my brother and his wife were threatening
divorce… The weight was getting too
heavy for these weak shoulders to muscle on my own. I was finding that I was spending a little
more time in the silent church than just my token ten or fifteen minutes. The day I found out my daughter had moved in
with her boyfriend, I marched right over to that chapel and got “right in
Jesus’s face”. Literally. I could not even kneel in humble prayer. I pulled my rosary beads from my pocket,
paced that marble floor, and wept as I dumped it all on Him.
When I was
coming to grips with the unbelievably difficult reality that my mother was
dying, I came to Him. I told Him over
and over that He was going to have to handle me with kid gloves if He was
expecting me to live without my mommy. I
sat there. I prayed there. I wept there; right up in His face. Day after day. Month after month.
It’s funny
how a relationship can change without your even knowing it. Grace.
“A good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing” (Luke
6:38) was poured into my lap, and my mind, and my heart as I started going more
and more regularly. Just to be with Him. The Hound of Heaven was drawing me in, little
by little, and I found myself kneeling right beside Him and begging, “Give me
this that I ask of You. That I might
love you.”
Depth of
feeling. I may have brushed the surface
from time to time at really centering my attention on God and earnestly praying
and adoring. But my pion brain was
forever sidetracked by insignificant nothings- during mass or in my “good
enough” prayer time, done so I could neatly check off the box. But then Jesus would sort of get boring to
me. Been there, done that; and then I
was looking to other flashy things that seemed more interesting. I began to see this huge, dramatic change in
me as little by little I have been cooperating more with the grace to stay
focused and attentive. Jesus is no
longer the friend I keep at arm’s length.
That still, small voice is growing louder, and I’m finding it harder to
resist Him. I am no longer afraid of a
harder road…
I
trained for the Boston Marathon in early 2014.
It was my third and last marathon.
I really need some kind of heavy
inspiration to get me through the grueling months of training. A purpose, a kind of “reason to suffer”
because if I’m going to voluntarily take on some behemoth cross, there’s got to
be a good reason. One day when they were having Eucharist
adoration, I went over, and started praying with a book I have: Visits to
the Blessed Sacrament and the Blessed Virgin Mary, written by St.
Alphonsus Liguori. I saw there printed
my reasons for running. They were
reasons for a visit to the Blessed Sacrament, but I tweaked them, and came up
with my pledge, my Mission Statement, my four reasons to run. Here, at last, was a little something I could
do to let Him know how grateful I am for all that He is giving me. A special cross- to unite to that perfect
heart in the unbelievable sacrament of love.
I typed them up on a paper and taped it by my treadmill, so I could see
and think on them every day:
Why am I doing this…
1.) In thanksgiving for the great gift of the
Blessed Sacrament.
2.) To make amends to the Sacred Heart for all
the outrages committed against the Blessed Sacrament by me, by those I love,
and by Your enemies.
3.) I intend to adore You in all the places on
earth where The Holy Eucharist is present and most forgotten and abandoned.
4.) And I offer it up for all those You have
given me to love.
I
was once praying before the Blessed Sacrament, just sort of “minding my own
business” when out of nowhere my calm was interrupted by images and thoughts
very, very dark and disturbing. It
almost made me jump it was so shockingly evil.
Then words came into my head, “How can someone like you, who thinks such
evil thoughts, dare to come before God?
You shouldn’t be here.”
I
cried and thought of what that would mean to me- this girl who was maybe a step
above “lukewarm” normally, who was changing so profoundly. What would that mean to me to leave this
place, the absolute presence of God? I
started to cry and although I know I am nothing but misery I looked at the
silent tabernacle and said out loud, “Where could I go, if not here?” Through amazing grace then, I latched onto
His mercy, and thought of the words of St. Peter who spoke similarly to Jesus,
“Lord, to whom would we go, for you have the words of eternal life.” (John
6:68) I pleaded with Him in my heart,
“Do not take me from You Jesus. I want
to stay with You.”
I
recently read the book called: Return: How to Draw Your Child Back to the
Church by Brandon Vogt, and in it he talks about creating some of the
initial dialog to bridge the gap with your child. He suggests being able to share why it is
that you’re Catholic. You need to think
on it so you can share your story. I sat
back and thought how I would frame that conversation, what I would say. It’s actually an easy thing for me, and
difficult at the same time.
Easy,
because there is not even the slightest doubt.
The Blessed Sacrament. The source
and summit of our Catholic faith- He is the reason I am blessed to be Catholic. While that wasn’t truthfully always the case
with me, it certainly is now. And it’s
difficult because how can I possibly put into words how my life has changed
over the last few years? It didn’t
happen all at once, but I am truly in awe at my life now.
So
many times… I will go over to that silent chapel area. Still.
Alone. And more recently I have
been sitting in the main church, as opposed to right up at the Blessed
Sacrament kneelers. I choose a position
where I can focus on a number of things- the beautiful wood statue of Our Lady
of Grace, the large Divine Mercy portrait, the crucifix… But lately I have turned my attention to a
small section of stained glass that runs along the upper walls, close by the
tabernacle. It is a heart, fused pieces
of glass in reds and golds, and in the afternoon, around three o’clock the sun
shines through those colors and it shimmers.
There is a white blade in another panel close to it, and the sun
illuminates it so much that it is almost blinding.
Then
the thoughts come, words not of my own, and I praise Him. I beg Him to pierce my heart with that blade
so that I might love Him. The tidal wave
washes over then of thought after thought- profound gratitude that His mother
brought me there to partake in the wellspring of His grace. I’m amazed that He moved us to this house, so
I can live so close. I am so grateful to
understand as much as my tiny mind can, that He is the One Who has supplied the
grace for this incredible change in me.
Day after day. More and more I am
focusing my whole life around Him, around time spent with Him.
I
see more clearly that Sacred Heart. His
vulnerability; His sensitivity. I think
on the words He spoke to St. Margaret Mary when He was consumed in His love and
said, “I thirst! I so ardently thirst to
be loved by men in the most Blessed Sacrament, that this thirst devours Me,-
and yet I find no one who tries to slake My thirst by giving Me some little
return of love for love.” These words
reach me now, and I will my heart to comfort Him!
I
close my eyes as I turn my face to the sun, the tabernacle, and beg Him to let
me love Him. I weep and weep. It’s as if I can barely sit still as thought
after thought of His grace, and mercy, and goodness, and profound love wash
over me. I cry, reaching into my pockets
so to speak, to give Him something to pay Him back for all He is heaping on
me. It is incredible. I can’t even think of words to describe
it. But, as always, my pockets are empty. I have nothing. I am nothing.
So from Him alone do I understand that I can offer Him, His bursting Heart back to Him. He provides the grace. He provides the love.
It’s
important to say it would be wrong to latch onto something just because it
makes you feel good. To use someone so
you can feel happy, spending time with them solely for what you are getting out
of it. That is not what is happening in
my life. There are many times I sit with
Jesus and practically fall asleep! As local
priest Fr. John Ricardo has said, I am “wasting time with Jesus”. I am
waiting on the Lord. A beggar. Whatever He wants to give me or not give
me. I don’t seem to care. All I want to do is be with Him- and I
honestly mean that! I laugh at these
deep thoughts coursing through me all the time, because they most certainly
don’t come from me!
But
still there are many days when life’s responsibilities fill all the space, and
I am unable to walk over the see Him.
Sometimes a few days in a row will stack up, and I marvel at the
difference in me. My thoughts don’t
focus on God as much. I easily fall
right back into habits and worldly, lukewarm nonsense. The Blessed Mother lends a hand again,
drawing me back. Thank God for her! She picks me up and carries me along that
easy road to my purpose. Sitting with
Him again only solidifies the truth in it.
When I was a
little girl, I remember one evening etched in my young mind during the holiday
season when my family went to Federals Department Store. We
were there and “what to my wondering eyes” so was Santa. He had a meager set up; just he and his
wingback chair, an endcap along one of the rows of merchandise and my mother
said I could go sit on his lap and relay to the jolly old man my Christmas wish
list. Afterwards, we continued
shopping. The store was relatively
empty, and all I could think of was him sitting in his chair, alone.
My mother
would shop down another isle and I kept sneaking over to see him. He was full of wonder and magic in the eyes of
an innocent child and I was amazed that no other kids were there. This was Santa Claus after all! The big man; and there he was. So approachable. So kind.
He would smile at me each time I would shyly poke my head out from
around the corner and wave to him.
For whatever
reason, that memory is very vivid to me, and it reminds me of my life now. Only now I am not longing to see some make-believe
hero, but God Himself. The child’s
wonder is alive though as I walk through my house each day and suddenly I will
think of Him. He is waiting there,
alone. And that bead of excitement takes
hold, and I know that all I have to do is peak around the corner, and He will
be there. Waiting for me. Beaconing.
Smiling.
I know it is
hard to believe a round, flat piece of bread could really be God. I get it.
Often, as I kneel and pledge my whole life to what seems to be only a
wafer of wheat, I chuckle at how I would appear to the majority of the
world. I look like a complete fool. But I so
don’t care! Because I see the
truth. My life now is a walking, talking
proof that that bread is actually God. I
see it in myself as I can honestly step back and think that there is no other
explanation for this profound “conversion” in me except for this easy
road… Just sitting with Him. Just sitting there.
Then I will
be sitting in the evening on the couch watching TV with my husband and daughter
and from nowhere I will think of Him in the dark, silent church. Secretly then I will race there in my heart,
to be with Him, so He isn’t alone. It’s
like when I was first pregnant and I had this special secret, this life growing
in me and my heart would unite with such joy to that motherhood, but no one
would know. To all the world I was
nothing special. But truly I was united
to an unbelievable miracle- life growing inside me. Now, He
is growing inside me.
I
go to morning mass often now. I live so
much more with my eyes and mind on eternity and what He is calling me to do to
get there, to help others get there.
I’ve struggled with the idea of writing all this stuff down. I think to myself, “Who am I that anyone
would want to hear anything I have to say?
There are already tons of people who write stuff. It’s enough already. And besides, I can’t really write well
anyway…” But during mass one morning,
during the consecration when I once again am filled with a depth of love that I
have never experienced I turned my eyes to the crucifix and told Him, “How
could you not expect me to share this?”
And
so, what I want to share is the unbelievable fact that I have found it. Like the person who finds the treasure in a
field, and in their joy goes and sells all they have to buy that field. (Matthew 13:44) I have the one thing necessary. My life
is living proof. But it isn’t just for
me, this treasure. It’s the Pearl of
Greatest Value that is actually so
incredibly easy to have. Really and
truly. It starts with just ten
minutes. It’s good enough, you’ll
think. But I guarantee you, if you let
Him, He will change your life.