I must admit that I have had very little time to think about writing a FGF this week. Unfortunately, the everyday things do not stop just because Christmas is around the corner. Since I am a bit pressed for time, I thought that I would retell a story that I have told several times about the greatest Christmas gift ever given.
About five years ago, Matthew and I went out to buy a gift for Cheryl. I had planned on buying her a pearl bracelet, so our first stop was a jewelry store owned by a woman that we knew through some friends. Matthew was very specific about what he wanted to get his mother--- a piece of jewelry that had three hearts on it, the three hearts representing the three kids. Very thoughtful. Even more so, considering that I wanted to get her a pearl bracelet because I had no clue what to buy her, and since I had bought her a pearl necklace the year before, this was as good as anything.
When we got to the store, I got the bracelet and one other smaller piece of jewelry, and then Matthew began his search for the perfect gift. He told the woman what he wanted and she showed him a nice ring that had three hearts. Very nice and very much within budget.
He seemed to like it, but then she showed him a very beautiful necklace that had three hearts, each inside of the other. Two were formed from small diamonds and one was made from red rubies. Think of the Grinch's heart as it grows. Wow, he loved it and knew that this was the one. I must admit, I loved it too, but thought this may be out of our price range. I asked how much this necklace cost, and let's just say that if the ring was in our price range, the necklace was ten times over our price range.
I politely told the woman that this was a bit more than my five year old (and his dad) wanted to spend. At this point, Matthew asked if he could talk to me. For some reason, he always starts off every comment to me by saying, "Dad," even if we are the only two in the room. "Dad, can I talk to you for a second?" Sure, no problem. "No, dad, I need to talk to you in private." We walked over to a corner of the store and he told me that he really, really, really wanted to buy that necklace. I explained to him that it was really, really, really, really over the budget (I threw in an extra really). The owner of the store was amused by the exchange. We settled on the ring.
Matthew was very disappointed, so I thought a trip to the ice cream parlor was warranted, but after ten minutes of his moping, I had had enough. It was time for him to get over it. Although he got more and more upset about the situation, he told me he had to get all of his disappointment out before we went home because he did not want his mother asking him what was wrong.
I again explained that it was a lot of money and that since we planned to go skiing for a week, money was tight. At this point, I realized two things: one... I was negotiating with a very cute, lovable terrorist; and two... I was going to go back to the store to see if they could hold the necklace until after the holidays, perhaps for an anniversary gift in April. I explained my plan to Matthew, but he was still not moved and wondered out loud why HE would buy an anniversary gift for MY wife. He had no problem with ME buying a Christmas gift for HIS mother, but I digress.
I went back into the store and asked if she could hold the necklace and she told me that she could not. She mentioned how cute she thought our "man to man" talk was, but apparently, not cute enough for her to hold the necklace for three or four months. I understood and I told her that she only saw part of Matthew's act because even Coldstone Creamery was not cheering my boy up.
A few days later, I went back to the store to pick up the three items that we purchased and when I did, she handed me a bag with four items. I told the woman that there was a mistake and that I only got three pieces of jewelry. She told me that she was so impressed and moved by Matthew's reaction that she included the necklace, and that I could come back and pay for it whenever I got the chance... and whenever I got the money. What a great gesture and it only came with one small catch... I had to promise to come back and tell her about Matthew's reaction. She was so moved by the things that Matthew had said, and how much he wanted to get that necklace for his mom that she had to know "the rest of the story."
I thanked her and told her how excited Matthew would be and as we talked, I decided that I would not tell him and just let him be surprised on Christmas morning. I put the necklace in the corner behind the tree where it went unnoticed. On Christmas morning, typically Cheryl opens her gifts last, and so, after she was done opening all of her gifts, I told Matthew that there might be one more gift for mom. I asked him to grab it and to stand by her as she opened it up.
When she opened the box, she was very impressed as she placed the necklace around her neck. Her reaction, however, was nothing compared to Matthew's. His eyes lit up, and got as big as saucers, and he immediately ran over to me and jumped into my arms and just kept saying "Thank You, Dad. Thank You so much, Dad."
Later I told Cheryl the story and told her if she did not like it, we could take it back. She looked at me like I was crazy because she loved it and after Matthew's reaction, she did not care if it cost a million dollars, it was not going back. By the way, the necklace was just shy of a million.
The greatest gift ever given was not the necklace that Matthew gave to his mom. As nice as that was, it was a distant second. The greatest Christmas gift ever given was the gift that Matthew gave to his dad. Thank you Matthew, Thank you so much Matthew!
Have a very Merry and Blessed Christmas.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Zechariah's Canticle...
“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel;
for he has come to his people and set them free.
He has raised up for us a mighty Savior,
born of the house of his servant David.
Through his prophets he promised of old
that he would save us from our enemies,
from the hands of all who hate us.
He promised to show mercy to our fathers
and to remember his holy covenant.
This was the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to set us free from the hand of our enemies,
free to worship him without fear,
holy and righteous in his sight
all the days of our life.
You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High,
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way,
to give his people knowledge of salvation
by the forgiveness of their sins.
In the tender compassion of our God
the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Luke 1:67-69
for he has come to his people and set them free.
He has raised up for us a mighty Savior,
born of the house of his servant David.
Through his prophets he promised of old
that he would save us from our enemies,
from the hands of all who hate us.
He promised to show mercy to our fathers
and to remember his holy covenant.
This was the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to set us free from the hand of our enemies,
free to worship him without fear,
holy and righteous in his sight
all the days of our life.
You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High,
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way,
to give his people knowledge of salvation
by the forgiveness of their sins.
In the tender compassion of our God
the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Luke 1:67-69
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Magnificat...
Mary said:
“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
for he has looked upon his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
and has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children for ever.”
my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
for he has looked upon his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
and has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children for ever.”
Andy Williams... A Song and a Christmas Tree... Twelve Days of Christmas...
Here's another "oldie, but goodie" that lets me know Christmas is nearly here. Andy Williams never disappoints.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Steve and Eydie... Sleigh Ride...
Music was such a big part of my childhood. My parents must have played this album every day in December. My mom and sisters will especially appreciate hearing it one more time.
Merry Christmas. Do you remember?
Friday, December 17, 2010
Funny Guy Friday... Confessions of a few bad confessions...
As Catholics, our family goes to Confession at least four or five times a year. We especially make a point to go before Easter and before Christmas to prepare ourselves for these Holy seasons. It is a great opportunity to cleanse our souls, and be granted absolution by the priest. It is also a chance for my wife and kids to get in a few good last-minute violations of the Ten Commandments, as they make fun of me and my confessional disasters.
First of all, I should confess, no pun intended, that I was not raised Catholic, so going to Confession is a fairly new thing for me, and I am not as comfortable as I should be.
For those of you that are not familiar with the sacrament of Confession, there is a basic script that starts with, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been _____ days/months/years since my last confession."
Each time that we go, I try to squirrel in a way to tell the priest how long it has been, without actually telling the priest how long it has been. Technically, saying it has been "several weeks" is not a lie when it has actually been more like four months. There are, in fact, "several weeks" in four months.
Cheryl points out that it may not be such a great idea to start the whole thing off by lying to the priest. Personally, I don't think it is a lie, and I want a ruling from the judges. The problem is that it is too stupid of a question to actually ask the priests about... and if it turned out to be a lie, it would need to be confessed at our next session. So, I just bite the bullet and give them an accurate timeline.
Once the initial "greeting" is out of the way, the confession begins. A confession can be face-to-face with a priest, or behind a screen in a small dark booth. I refer to this as contact, or non-contact.
This is similar to when I go to the jail to visit an inmate. My decision to go contact or non-contact at the jail usually depends on how bad the inmate might be... the worse the inmate, the higher the chance of a non-contact visit.
My decision to go contact or non-contact with the priest depends upon how bad my sins might be... the worse the sins, the higher the chance of a non-contact confession. Occasionally, the only option is a contact visit, but I must admit that typically, if I can go non-contact, I do.
Unfortunately, this is not the only time that my work life creeps into the process. Almost every time I go, I refer to the priest as "your Honor,'' at least once, as if I am talking to a judge. But none of this is what my family makes fun of me for when we go. No, they make fun of me about my previous Confession disasters.
Not being raised Catholic, I never had to memorize the Act of Contrition... a prayer you say at the end of your confession, to show that you are truly sorry, and that you want to change your life. Cheryl and the kids know this by heart, but I do not. As a result, I bring a little cheat sheet into the booth. A bit embarrassing, but what the heck, they don't know who I am... or do they?
The first time that I went to Confession at our current church, I waited in line for about half an hour. They should really figure out a way to make the line more entertaining like they do at Disney... with a show or something. I think they would attract a bigger audience, but I could be wrong.
This particular confession was on a Saturday afternoon, before the 4:30 Mass. While in line, I remembered that I did not have my reading glasses. No problem... I determined that I could make out my cheat sheet without them. But once inside the confessional, with the door shut, I realized that it was pitch dark. In fact, the only scrap of light to be found was peeking out through the screen, from the priest's side.
As panic was setting in, all I could think of was, How am I going to read my cheat sheet when it comes time for the Act of Contrition? I have no idea what I said, or what he said, but I do remember struggling mightily to find light on my side of the booth, and trying to read without my glasses. In fact, it was so bad that the priest kindly asked me if I needed help. As I struggled, the one thought that saved me from complete humiliation was that this was non-contact. He would never know who I was!
After I was done, I exited the confessional only to have the priest walk out at the exact same time. "Oh, well hello Mark, good to see you. I have to run, I am late in getting ready for Mass." This had to be some violation of some priestly professional standard... I was thinking that perhaps he needed to go to his own confession.
On another occasion, we went to a Penance Service with a whole gaggle of priests, and we could get into any one of five or six lines. I just happened to pick a line with a visiting priest... in a previousy scouted-out, well-lit confessional.
I greeted the priest, and started the confession off with a sure sin of missing Mass on one particular Sunday. This guy asked for details. This had never happened before. Typically, I confess in a general manner, and they forgive in a general manner. What was up with the new guy and details? I explained that we had been on vacation in Vermont, and I really lost track of the days and could not find a Sunday evening Mass. He said it was not a sin, as it was not intentional. Wow, they have to be intentional? Who knew?
I went to the next sin on my list, and he again told me this one was not a sin either... that he does the same thing. I was 0 for 2. This was going great, but I was running out of sins. I started sweating, and thought to myself, Maybe I should start making stuff up! I mean... It's one thing not to know the Act of Contrition... but when you have no reason to even be in there in the first place...
The thought of making stuff up struck me as funny, and I soon had the giggles. Uh-oh... giggles and Confession is not a good mix. Anyway, I came up with a few things, but nothing very good. I remember leaving that night thinking that if this guy were my regular priest, I could cut my confessions down to one every three or four years.
Then there was the granddaddy of all confessional screw-ups. On this particular occasion, we went to Confession at the Chapel instead of at the regular church. I had never done this before at the Chapel, so Cheryl and the kids advised that there are three doors: If you want to do non-contact, use the door on the far left... and if you want to go contact, use the door on the right. No problem.
For some reason, I was telling the kids that they should go contact... to "be a man, and face the priest when you confess your sins." I was going to do it... so they should do it too. They all went before I did, and none had the guts to take me up on my challenge... but I backed up my words with action.
That is right... contact all the way, baby. I would show these lifelong Catholics who the real man was.
I must admit that I was a bit nervous. So nervous that when I opened up the door on the right, I actually opened up the door in the middle by mistake. You know... the middle door... where the priest sits... and waits for everyone to open the door on the left. He had his ipod touch sitting there in what looked like clock-mode, but if I had to swear to it, I think he had on headphones.
He nodded, and it occurred to me that there was nowhere for me to sit unless I crawled up on his lap. Then I realized... I was not where I was supposed to be.
So, what do you do when you walk into the priest's side of the confessional? Well, one thing is for sure, you cannot go non-contact at that point. I said, "Hello," and then I actually said, "I will see you in a second," and I shut the door.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 3 seconds since I saw you last, and in that time, I walked in on a priest during Confessions.
We went again last night, and it was more of the same. Again, I realized that I did not have my reading glasses, so I dropped off the family, and went to the Dollar Store to get a cheap pair. All they had were purple and pink, but I didn't care... I would be the only one in the booth, and the priest wouldn't be able to see me... plus, it was Advent... the purple worked.
When I returned to the church, Grace and Cheryl were near the front of the line, so I got in at the end. I waited and waited, and finally it was almost my turn. Once I had made it to the front of the line and was next to go, I felt it was safe to break out the new purple reading glasses to make sure that I could see my cheat sheet. As I was looking down, the priest calls time out for a potty break. Seriously, don't you think he could have laid off of the coffee for just one night?
My man scurried out of his side of the confessional, but only after the guy in front of me had safely checked in on the non-priest side. I was sure that the priest waited for him to get settled, so as not to embarras the guy. However, I was also sure that he got a good look at me standing at the front of the line, reading my cheat sheet in my purple glasses.
As he came back from his bathroom break, he greeted me, and jumped back into the game. I was thinking about asking the guy behind me to switch, but then I thought, I have no idea what that guy is going to confess, and I don't want the priest thinking that I did something awful. I stayed in line with the idea that I could do damage control.
Upon further reflection, switching with the guy behind me could have been a great opportunity for me to make myself look good. At least that guy may have actually known his Act of Contrition without relying on a cheat sheet.
First of all, I should confess, no pun intended, that I was not raised Catholic, so going to Confession is a fairly new thing for me, and I am not as comfortable as I should be.
For those of you that are not familiar with the sacrament of Confession, there is a basic script that starts with, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been _____ days/months/years since my last confession."
Each time that we go, I try to squirrel in a way to tell the priest how long it has been, without actually telling the priest how long it has been. Technically, saying it has been "several weeks" is not a lie when it has actually been more like four months. There are, in fact, "several weeks" in four months.
Cheryl points out that it may not be such a great idea to start the whole thing off by lying to the priest. Personally, I don't think it is a lie, and I want a ruling from the judges. The problem is that it is too stupid of a question to actually ask the priests about... and if it turned out to be a lie, it would need to be confessed at our next session. So, I just bite the bullet and give them an accurate timeline.
Once the initial "greeting" is out of the way, the confession begins. A confession can be face-to-face with a priest, or behind a screen in a small dark booth. I refer to this as contact, or non-contact.
This is similar to when I go to the jail to visit an inmate. My decision to go contact or non-contact at the jail usually depends on how bad the inmate might be... the worse the inmate, the higher the chance of a non-contact visit.
My decision to go contact or non-contact with the priest depends upon how bad my sins might be... the worse the sins, the higher the chance of a non-contact confession. Occasionally, the only option is a contact visit, but I must admit that typically, if I can go non-contact, I do.
Unfortunately, this is not the only time that my work life creeps into the process. Almost every time I go, I refer to the priest as "your Honor,'' at least once, as if I am talking to a judge. But none of this is what my family makes fun of me for when we go. No, they make fun of me about my previous Confession disasters.
Not being raised Catholic, I never had to memorize the Act of Contrition... a prayer you say at the end of your confession, to show that you are truly sorry, and that you want to change your life. Cheryl and the kids know this by heart, but I do not. As a result, I bring a little cheat sheet into the booth. A bit embarrassing, but what the heck, they don't know who I am... or do they?
The first time that I went to Confession at our current church, I waited in line for about half an hour. They should really figure out a way to make the line more entertaining like they do at Disney... with a show or something. I think they would attract a bigger audience, but I could be wrong.
This particular confession was on a Saturday afternoon, before the 4:30 Mass. While in line, I remembered that I did not have my reading glasses. No problem... I determined that I could make out my cheat sheet without them. But once inside the confessional, with the door shut, I realized that it was pitch dark. In fact, the only scrap of light to be found was peeking out through the screen, from the priest's side.
As panic was setting in, all I could think of was, How am I going to read my cheat sheet when it comes time for the Act of Contrition? I have no idea what I said, or what he said, but I do remember struggling mightily to find light on my side of the booth, and trying to read without my glasses. In fact, it was so bad that the priest kindly asked me if I needed help. As I struggled, the one thought that saved me from complete humiliation was that this was non-contact. He would never know who I was!
After I was done, I exited the confessional only to have the priest walk out at the exact same time. "Oh, well hello Mark, good to see you. I have to run, I am late in getting ready for Mass." This had to be some violation of some priestly professional standard... I was thinking that perhaps he needed to go to his own confession.
On another occasion, we went to a Penance Service with a whole gaggle of priests, and we could get into any one of five or six lines. I just happened to pick a line with a visiting priest... in a previousy scouted-out, well-lit confessional.
I greeted the priest, and started the confession off with a sure sin of missing Mass on one particular Sunday. This guy asked for details. This had never happened before. Typically, I confess in a general manner, and they forgive in a general manner. What was up with the new guy and details? I explained that we had been on vacation in Vermont, and I really lost track of the days and could not find a Sunday evening Mass. He said it was not a sin, as it was not intentional. Wow, they have to be intentional? Who knew?
I went to the next sin on my list, and he again told me this one was not a sin either... that he does the same thing. I was 0 for 2. This was going great, but I was running out of sins. I started sweating, and thought to myself, Maybe I should start making stuff up! I mean... It's one thing not to know the Act of Contrition... but when you have no reason to even be in there in the first place...
The thought of making stuff up struck me as funny, and I soon had the giggles. Uh-oh... giggles and Confession is not a good mix. Anyway, I came up with a few things, but nothing very good. I remember leaving that night thinking that if this guy were my regular priest, I could cut my confessions down to one every three or four years.
Then there was the granddaddy of all confessional screw-ups. On this particular occasion, we went to Confession at the Chapel instead of at the regular church. I had never done this before at the Chapel, so Cheryl and the kids advised that there are three doors: If you want to do non-contact, use the door on the far left... and if you want to go contact, use the door on the right. No problem.
For some reason, I was telling the kids that they should go contact... to "be a man, and face the priest when you confess your sins." I was going to do it... so they should do it too. They all went before I did, and none had the guts to take me up on my challenge... but I backed up my words with action.
That is right... contact all the way, baby. I would show these lifelong Catholics who the real man was.
I must admit that I was a bit nervous. So nervous that when I opened up the door on the right, I actually opened up the door in the middle by mistake. You know... the middle door... where the priest sits... and waits for everyone to open the door on the left. He had his ipod touch sitting there in what looked like clock-mode, but if I had to swear to it, I think he had on headphones.
He nodded, and it occurred to me that there was nowhere for me to sit unless I crawled up on his lap. Then I realized... I was not where I was supposed to be.
So, what do you do when you walk into the priest's side of the confessional? Well, one thing is for sure, you cannot go non-contact at that point. I said, "Hello," and then I actually said, "I will see you in a second," and I shut the door.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 3 seconds since I saw you last, and in that time, I walked in on a priest during Confessions.
We went again last night, and it was more of the same. Again, I realized that I did not have my reading glasses, so I dropped off the family, and went to the Dollar Store to get a cheap pair. All they had were purple and pink, but I didn't care... I would be the only one in the booth, and the priest wouldn't be able to see me... plus, it was Advent... the purple worked.
When I returned to the church, Grace and Cheryl were near the front of the line, so I got in at the end. I waited and waited, and finally it was almost my turn. Once I had made it to the front of the line and was next to go, I felt it was safe to break out the new purple reading glasses to make sure that I could see my cheat sheet. As I was looking down, the priest calls time out for a potty break. Seriously, don't you think he could have laid off of the coffee for just one night?
My man scurried out of his side of the confessional, but only after the guy in front of me had safely checked in on the non-priest side. I was sure that the priest waited for him to get settled, so as not to embarras the guy. However, I was also sure that he got a good look at me standing at the front of the line, reading my cheat sheet in my purple glasses.
As he came back from his bathroom break, he greeted me, and jumped back into the game. I was thinking about asking the guy behind me to switch, but then I thought, I have no idea what that guy is going to confess, and I don't want the priest thinking that I did something awful. I stayed in line with the idea that I could do damage control.
Upon further reflection, switching with the guy behind me could have been a great opportunity for me to make myself look good. At least that guy may have actually known his Act of Contrition without relying on a cheat sheet.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Hope for crisis pregnancies...
This past Monday, I had the wonderful and much-needed opportunity to visit a pro-life crisis pregnancy center that occupies an office space that was once an abortuary. This particular center is one of two clinics run by my sister-in-law. The one I visited is in Severna Park, Maryland, and the other one is in nearby Bowie.
The people/angels of this ministry have reclaimed that Severna Park space for God, and have brought it from deep and horrifying darkness into the Light of Christ's presence and hope.
In a culture that falsely and hopelessly markets killing as a necessary choice, these pro-life centers are full-service clinics with 3D/4D sonogram machines to show their clients the truth. They also bring the truth of God's mercy and love to every person who walks through their doors.
In this Season of Hope, it is a comfort to know that these clinics stand for peace and truth, shining light on life-affirming choices for those who may believe all hope is lost.
To visit their website and see their broad spectrum of free services, please click here.
And if you are considering end-of-year contributions, please, prayerfully consider donating to these centers. Although they have many volunteers, money is needed to hire the nurses, to pay for supplies, and to pay the rent. They receive no public funding of any sort. They rely solely on private donations. If you wish to contact them, please click here .
If you cannot give money at this time, please pray for this ministry and the men and women who seek their care... that God will always provide.
May God bless you abundantly, now and always.
Blessed Mother... Please look with favor upon this ministry, and these centers, and intercede with utmost urgency on their behalf... as at the Wedding Feast. Thank you. Amen.
"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28
The people/angels of this ministry have reclaimed that Severna Park space for God, and have brought it from deep and horrifying darkness into the Light of Christ's presence and hope.
In a culture that falsely and hopelessly markets killing as a necessary choice, these pro-life centers are full-service clinics with 3D/4D sonogram machines to show their clients the truth. They also bring the truth of God's mercy and love to every person who walks through their doors.
In this Season of Hope, it is a comfort to know that these clinics stand for peace and truth, shining light on life-affirming choices for those who may believe all hope is lost.
To visit their website and see their broad spectrum of free services, please click here.
And if you are considering end-of-year contributions, please, prayerfully consider donating to these centers. Although they have many volunteers, money is needed to hire the nurses, to pay for supplies, and to pay the rent. They receive no public funding of any sort. They rely solely on private donations. If you wish to contact them, please click here .
If you cannot give money at this time, please pray for this ministry and the men and women who seek their care... that God will always provide.
May God bless you abundantly, now and always.
Blessed Mother... Please look with favor upon this ministry, and these centers, and intercede with utmost urgency on their behalf... as at the Wedding Feast. Thank you. Amen.
"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Adoration...
I have been going to Adoration on Sunday mornings before Mass.
Alone in a room, face to face with Almighty God. Aside from the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, it is my favorite hour of my week.
Sometimes I sit there and stare at the Blessed Sacrament, trying so hard to see with my eyes something that my soul knows is there. Maybe I will see a swirling of majesty. The Risen Jesus, glorified, surrounded by the Heavenly Hosts. Maybe I will see and feel a warm light.
A few weeks ago, I read something that changed my perspective. I had been so focused on what I could see when I look at Him, that I never stopped to think about what the Lord sees when He looks at me. Does He see a light? Does He see Himself?
When I am there, part of me wants to approach the Lord Jesus, and hold the Monstrance close to me, as like a hug. To have God close. So close.
The other part of me says, Don't you dare touch God. I am not worthy. He is perfect, and holy, and pure, beyond my human understanding. I don't dare disturb Him.
But still, I want to be closer. Physically closer.
Then I meditated on what I would see, if I could. And He wasn't a swirl of majesty. And He wasn't just a glow. Or the Man Jesus.
He was a baby. The baby Jesus.
In my mind and in my heart, I approached the manger of that first Christmas night, and I picked up that Baby. And I held Him close. And He was in my arms. And I kept Him warm.
Jesus, the infant Savior. My infant Savior.
For all the times in my life when I need Him... when He alone is my utmost joy... He holds me.
But in that hour of uninterrupted quiet with the Lord, He needed me, and I held Him. I want to always hold Him close to me. And keep Him warm.... as He needed that first night in that stable. There, with His Mother and Father protecting Him and loving Him, it was safe and warm. But beyond those walls, it was dark and cold. And although there were some people who couldn't wait to meet Him, there were also those who wanted to kill Him.
Lord, I pray that I can always hold you close. Especially when it is dark and cold out there.
Alone in a room, face to face with Almighty God. Aside from the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, it is my favorite hour of my week.
Sometimes I sit there and stare at the Blessed Sacrament, trying so hard to see with my eyes something that my soul knows is there. Maybe I will see a swirling of majesty. The Risen Jesus, glorified, surrounded by the Heavenly Hosts. Maybe I will see and feel a warm light.
A few weeks ago, I read something that changed my perspective. I had been so focused on what I could see when I look at Him, that I never stopped to think about what the Lord sees when He looks at me. Does He see a light? Does He see Himself?
When I am there, part of me wants to approach the Lord Jesus, and hold the Monstrance close to me, as like a hug. To have God close. So close.
The other part of me says, Don't you dare touch God. I am not worthy. He is perfect, and holy, and pure, beyond my human understanding. I don't dare disturb Him.
But still, I want to be closer. Physically closer.
Then I meditated on what I would see, if I could. And He wasn't a swirl of majesty. And He wasn't just a glow. Or the Man Jesus.
He was a baby. The baby Jesus.
In my mind and in my heart, I approached the manger of that first Christmas night, and I picked up that Baby. And I held Him close. And He was in my arms. And I kept Him warm.
Jesus, the infant Savior. My infant Savior.
For all the times in my life when I need Him... when He alone is my utmost joy... He holds me.
But in that hour of uninterrupted quiet with the Lord, He needed me, and I held Him. I want to always hold Him close to me. And keep Him warm.... as He needed that first night in that stable. There, with His Mother and Father protecting Him and loving Him, it was safe and warm. But beyond those walls, it was dark and cold. And although there were some people who couldn't wait to meet Him, there were also those who wanted to kill Him.
Lord, I pray that I can always hold you close. Especially when it is dark and cold out there.
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