Sunday Gratitude and Prayer Score Card

Today is the 19th anniversary of my father's death and, of course, Mother's Day. It's the second without my mother, although I don't recall much of last year at all.

So, remembering both my parents in prayer today.  I am grateful for:

1. The fountains in my yard. Here's the one I see the most often. It reminds me of the Middle East, even though it is set in the midst of Oregon greenery.

2. The restoration and on-going healing of a relationship. Only God knows the end of the story, but I am grateful for the healing that has taken place.

3. Skype, which allows me to "talk" with my son.

4. The white cupboards in my kitchen.

5. Fabreze...I have cats.  They have litter.  Connect the dots.

Prayer Score Card

I have 10 things on my list this month.  So far there have been 3 "Yes" and the rest are still waiting.
Interestingly, and this is something I want to explore in more detail, the more specific the prayer, the more specific the answer.  And the more immediate the prayer, the more immediate the answer.  Both yes and no.

Out of the Depths

I'd like to say, "Where does the time go?" but I know where it went.  Into a black hole of work, with a dollop of worry, a slurp of travel, and a heaping cupful of procrastination.  Yep, that's where the time went.

The perfectionist in me thinks that unless I go back and fill in all the missing days, I should write at all, but that serves no one, especially not me.  So, just a brief backward glance and then moving on.

I was honored to be a guest on Donna-Marie Cooper-Oboyle's new EWTN show, Catholic Moms' Cafe in Birmingham along with several prestigious and well-known authors.  Here's a picture of me with Donna-Marie, Marge Fenelon and Lisa Henley.  And one on the set for the show.

Then I went to an incredible seminar/retreat in Canada that gave me great new perspectives on my career, my relationships, my motives and my life in general.

Now I'm back in Oregon where there hasn't been rain for days and everyone is talking DROUGHT, but I'm loving the sunshine. I think my heaven has to be sunny.  It can sprinkle now and then, enough to give everything that fresh rain smell, but no long, grey, gloomy days that hang like a shroud over my life.  (Yes, I do question why I live in Oregon, but apparently the greenery offsets the greyery.)

So, what have you been up to while I've been gone?

Mom's Cafe

  

I've long admired Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle, ever since I learned of her decade-long friendship with Mother Teresa.  I never thought I'd get a chance to meet her, but God works in mysterious ways.  Not only do I get to meet her, I will be a guest on her upcoming EWTN television series called "Catholic Mom's Cafe"!

 

Donna-Maria has written a simply marvelous book with the same name (almost): Catholic Mom's Cafe" 5-Minute Retreats for Every Day of the Year (Our Sunday Visitor, 2013). When I had a chance to see a copy, I promptly turned to my birth day and chuckled with it was all about not worrying.  I think I have a PhD in worry, so the irony was not lost.

 

 

I've always loved daily devotionals and this little book is just my cup of tea (all puns intended.) Each day provides a quote from the Bible, an inspirational quote, a short but pithy meditation, a prayer and a thought to carry through the day. It's the ideal length for meaningful insight but not so long as to become another chore. It's the kind of book that would make a great gift for a new mom, a seasoned mother or even yourself!

    

Donna-Maria also has a great blog at CatholicMomsCafe.blogspot.com. (Disclosure:  I am an occasional guest there!) as well as a Facebook page at facebook.com/CatholicMomsCafe. Lots of good stuff there...and not just for moms!

 

The book will be out soon and I've got it on good authority that you can get an autographed copy at her website. They will be available at Our Sunday Visitor, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Catholic bookstores as well.

 

And in case you are interested, here's link to the upcoming TV show and one of Donna-Marie's guests. :)

 

 

Inside Anxiety

Anxiety and panic are inside jobs.

That's one reason why it's so hard for someone who hasn't experienced them to understand what they are like.

In the past few days, I've had the opportunity to try to explain what they feel like to friends and family who have loved ones who suffer from anxiety and panic. If there is any good that can come out of my experience, perhaps being able to share the "inside" information is it.

Imagine sitting in your favorite chair, with your favorite beverage at hand. (Island Coconut Coffee with real cream.) The sun is splashed across the floor and the cat is basking in the warmth. You aren't awaiting a medical diagnosis.  No debt collectors are banging at the door.  You aren't facing foreclosure or starvation. No one is dying right this second.  All in all, things are pretty okay.  If anyone were to look at you, you'd look downright peaceful and content.

On the outside.

Inside it's a different story.

Let's start with the heart. It's probably racing, as fast as if you had just run around the block. It might even feel like it's skipping a beat now and then. But that's nothing compared to the stomach. It's in literal knots, twisting and churning, with surges of nausea. It feels like coming down with the flu. Only you aren't.  Then the breath. You feel like you are suffocating, like nothing short of great gasping gulps will bring in enough oxygen. Yet you know if you give in, you'll hyperventilate and feel even worse than you do right now, so you try to breath as slowly and steadily as you can...all the while feeling like you are suffocating.

That's just the tip of the physical feelings. You might add feeling faint, dizzy, shaky, trembling, too restless for words--or conversely, absolutely frozen in place unable to move. All the while, sitting in your favorite chair, watching the cat stretch in the sunshine, looking peaceful and calm.

Mentally it's even worse.There is a sensation of impending disaster and complete doom. You might have enough money in the bank to pay your bills this week, but your mind looks ahead to next Christmas and goes hysterical about how you are going to pay to travel to be with the family if they invite you again. Not to mention how you are going to pay the taxes next April. If you can slow down those thoughts, others catapult in. What if your mammogram, which is scheduled in six months, comes back with a problem like it did a year ago even though it turned out to be fine and you didn't have cancer? What if, when you decide you want to sell your house, you have to repaint it all and how will you find a reliable painter who won't overcharge? And what if the jar of jam that is in the refrigerator has gone bad and you'll get food poisoning because you had it on your toast this morning? And what if you are out of work next year? How will you pay your bills? And how will you pay the taxes in April!!!! Especially if the family wants you to visit at Christmas.

Inside, it's as if your body and mind have become a blender of terror, the physical contributing to the mental and the mental to the physical, all shredded and whirled into fear soup.

Well-intended family and friends try to reason with you...if you risk enough to share what's going on...by telling you that Christmas is more than nine months away and it's not even tax day this year, much less next year, and you aren't planning on selling anytime soon and jam has too much sugar to go bad and no one knows for sure if they will have a job next year.

It doesn't help. You know these things intellectually and if logic were enough to banish anxiety and panic, no one would suffer from them.

Sometimes people who are frustrated because anxiety and panic don't make logical sense and tell you to just get over it. If it were that easy, you'd do it because you would like nothing more than to be freed from these mental and physical sensations.

Others suggest that you take medications and even if you are taking what your doctor has prescribed, you know that the only way to be totally free of the feelings is to be drugged into oblivion and you can't or won't live that way. Not to mention that the mind is the most powerful force on earth and a panic-striken mind can override all but the strongest of drugs.

There probably are some moments when the panic lifts. Maybe it's first thing in the morning, when you wake and think, "Oh, it's gone for good!" Or perhaps it's at night, when you fall into bed, praying that when you wake it won't be brooding on your pillow waiting for consciousness to break through. In those times, when the physical and mental torture wanes, you hope that perhaps today will mark the end or at least the beginning of the end. When it doesn't, the disappointment is almost too much to bear. You understand why some people think that suicide is the only way to be released from the unrelenting grasp of fear and panic because you don't know if you can stand to be disappointed one more time.

But you take a deep breath, sip your coffee, watch the cats and say a prayer that you make it through this minute because that's the only way you can manage. One prayer, one minute at a time. Because anxiety and panic are inside jobs.

Pope Francis and Mary, Undoer of Knots

My heart warmed when I read that one of Pope Francis' favorite devotions is to Mary, Undoer of Knots. It's my favorite Marian devotion.

I wrote about it here.

Sunday Gratitude on Monday

Better late than never, right?

On this Monday/Sunday I am grateful for:

Cherry blossoms

Having the taxes done before April 15

Divine Mercy Sunday--and the hope of healing

Chocolate (See getting taxes done above)

Hope. The thing with feathers, as the great Emily says.

(I can't find the source for this picture, but to whomever created it, thanks.)

Hunkering Down and the Siren of Suicide Revisited

I've said before that when I go on radio silence, both here and in my "real" life, it's because I'm battling demons.  So it is with the past weeks that I've been away, hunkered down, steeling myself against the anxiety that wraps its tendrils around my soul, choking out the smallest shoots of joy that try to emerge.

Things had gotten better for me, but then I heard about the suicide of Rick Warren's son. Rick is the author of The Purpose-Driven Life and the pastor Saddleback Community Church in California.

I understand all too well about the siren of suicide. 

Days before my mother's death, I wrote about her and her temptations.

That's when the siren of suicide sits on the rock and bats her beguiling eyes: "Come see me," she whispers.  "I have a solution.  A real solution. No more struggling with finances.  No more waiting at hospice bedsides.  No more trying to figure out how to get through one more day.  Just come see me and I will take care of it all for you." (Click here for rest of post.)

Several bloggers have written about Matt Warren and mental illness, none better than Thomas McDonald of God and the Machine. He articulates the experience of the "clammy parasite that attaches to your soul and sucks out your life day by agonizing day, until annihilation appears to be the only relief" as only one who has been inside the pain can.

While the siren of suicide has visited me, the one thing that has kept me able to function, albeit sometimes in hunker-down mode, has been the line from this Sunday's Gospel:

A large number of people from the towns
in the vicinity of Jerusalem also gathered,
bringing the sick and those disturbed by unclean spirits,
and they were all cured.--Acts 5

Notice, it doesn't say that some were cured.  It says ALL.  All were cured.  All those disturbed by unclean spirits, and certainly anxiety, depression and suicide are unclean spirits, were cured. When the cold foggy darkness seeps into my soul, I remind God--and myself--that ALL were cured.

I know from what his father said that Matt Warren had been prayed for and probably prayed himself for healing and it didn't happen. He remained caught in the claws of his depression until he no longer believed he could stand it.

I understand. Believing that healing is possible and believing that healing for you is possible are two very different things. I suspect that Matt Warren believed that God could heal his illness. However, at some point, he stopped believing that God would heal his illness. I understand that, too. After years of praying with no tangible result, the temptation to stop believing can be overwhelming.

And yet, I keep coming back to that verse:  "they were all cured."  Not some, but all.

Over and over in the gospels, we read that it was the faith of those who came to Jesus that resulted in their cures. They believed that Jesus would cure them. They didn't hope. They didn't wish. They believed.

And so, on this spring day, as the squirrel runs along the limbs of my cherry tree, causing the blossoms to fall like pink-tinged snow, I say the words of the father in Mark 9: Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

I don't know when, but I believe that my prayers that the demon of anxiety that has haunted me since my mother was placed on hospice nearly two years ago will be banished. Perhaps it may even be today.
 

Deliver Us from All Anxiety

One of the things I miss in the new translation of the Mass are the words, "deliver us from all anxiety." Somehow "deliver us from all distress," while presumably more accurate to the Latin, isn't as meaningful to me, especially when I am in the grips of an anxiety attack. I want to be delivered from anxiety, not just distress!

Since I've admitted to suffering from anxiety, I've been surprised at how many people have told me that they, too, have had their experience with this particular demon. People who appear to have their lives in complete order, with success in every aspect from relationships to finances, say that they battled or still do battle anxiety.

I'm not sure that misery loves company is quite accurate in this case, but it is interesting how many people carry this dark secret. And make no mistake...this is a very dark secret. The kind of dark secret that is usually associated with alcoholism, drug addiction or other types of haunting addictions. It's one thing to say that you are nervous; it's another to admit that even when you are sitting safely in a chair, looking out into a bright spring day, your heart is racing, there's a stabbing pain in your solar plexus and you don't feel like you are going to survive another minute, much less another day or week or month.

I wish I could tell those of you who have confided in me that I have the answer, the solution. I don't. Sometimes I get a modicum of relief and have a respite from the fear, but so far it has always returned. For me, it begins with my first breath in the morning, rising to a crescendo by mid-afternoon and, on the good days, diminishing by evening. Sometimes, by the time the moon is rising, I actually have moments of calm and peace. Those moments I treasure and try not to think that they will be gone by break of day.

It's the hardest battle I've ever fought and I'm not sure that I will win. All I know is that I keep trying and keep fighting and keep praying that perhaps, just perhaps, when the sun rises one morning, the demon will be left perpetually in the dark night of my soul.

Sunday Gratitude, Prayer Score Card and Anxiety

When I struggle with anxiety and panic, I become a hermit crab.

I withdraw, retreat, and everything from this blog to friends to laundry is left behind. That's what has happened these past few days. I've gone into my shell, trying to keep the battering waves at bay.


I don't think that I've ever faced anything as difficult as coping with the anxiety that has been my near-constant companion for nearly two years, starting when my mother first went on hospice and through her death and the last year of grief.

Oddly enough, twice now, in the middle of a raging panic attack, I was told what a calm person I was. Outwardly, apparently, I do appear serene, but on the inside, my heart is racing, my chest is aching and every muscle fiber twitches with "fight or flight." And yet, by dint of will and practice, I must look as if I am very much in control of myself.  Perhaps that's why I retreat when the pain is too great. It's much easier to be calm when you are hidden under the bedclothes than when you are out in public.

As we enter into Holy Week, I went back to read what I had written last year about Jesus, the Garden of Gethsemane and panic attacks. And as we enter into Holy Week, once again I pray that perhaps with Easter will come healing and restoration and anxiety may become for me, just a memory of a time recorded on a blog. This is the week of miracles, after all.

With that, this Sunday I am grateful for:

1. Trader Joe's Dixie Peach juice that tastes like summer when summer seems far away
2. Daffodils...next to lilacs, my favorite flower
3. The ongoing and joyful restitution of a relationship
4. Bits of blue in an otherwise grey sky
5. Hope...even when I'm feeling like a hermit card

As for the prayer score card,
3Yes
12 No answer
and 1--not sure.  I had prayed for clear direction on a decision and I never got direction, but I had to make a decision.  So not sure if that is a yes, no, or no answer.

Papal Coat of Arms

I have been waiting to see what Pope Francis chose for his coat of arms.
John Thavis, the Vatican observer, explains it better than I ever could.

Sunday Gratitude and Prayer Scorecard

Before I get into the Sunday gratitude and all, I would like to invite any of my readers who aren't Catholic who have questions about the pope or what's been going on to ask your questions in the comment box.  If I don't have the answer, I'll do my best to find out.

With that....
I am grateful for:

 A day without anxiety.  I had one last week and it was nearly miraculous.
The hope of a new pope.
Sunshine. We had a couple of lovely days.
Daffodils
Ice tea...finally warm enough for a glass.

As for the prayer scorecard, it's been a very interesting month.
1 yes
13 unanswered and
1 (probably) no.

I guess it's a season of waiting.

Pope Francis--A Little Overview

This is mostly for my non-Catholic friends, who have asked me questions about what all has happened in the Catholic church in the past few days. I'm not a papal expert, but I will try to explain what I can.

The election of Pope Francis is remarkable for many reasons, which have been talked about extensively in the press. Some of them are simply historical firsts--such as being the first pope from the Americas--the import of which only history will be able to evaluate.

But other aspects of this election have more immediate meaning even for the average Catholic in a parish and I'll try to explain a few (if I can.)


 The first is that we Catholics haven't had a pope resign for 600 years. It had been thought that popes were like parents...in until death. Pope John Paul II, whose health declined to the point of near morbidity in the final years of his pontificate, was held up as an example of that dedication.

However, his successor, Pope Benedict XVI took a different tact and shocked everything except maybe his brother and his cat by resigning. Thus the election of Pope Francis had a different tone from the very beginning since the Church wasn't in mourning.  People were sad to have Benedict step down, but death did not hang over the proceedings.  Therefore, the election of a new pope was marked almost exclusively by excitement and anticipation.

Mixed with a soupcon of fear.

The "liberals" in the Church were fearful that an archconservative would be elected and the "conservatives" were afraid that an archconservative wouldn't be. In Francis, both factions were taken aback since he is both conservative on doctrinal issues and liberal on social justice matters. So no matter where on the spectrum a Catholic falls, Pope Francis is bound to bring surprises.

One small indication of how this is evident lies in a bit of Catholic trivia. The pope wears red leather shoes, sometimes from famous shoe designers. When a man is elected, he is taken into a room called the Room of Tears (because, undoubtedly some have cried at their new responsibilities) where he is fitted into one of three sets of papal robes--small, medium and large--depending on the "substance" of the new pope. He is also presented with several sizes of red shoes.  Pope Francis declined to wear the whole papal regalia, choosing the most simple part of the outfit--a rather plain white robe without a fancy cape or trimmings. More striking, however, is that he didn't wear the ruby red slippers and as I write this, on the third day of his pontificate, he is still wearing the plain black shoes he wore from Argentina. It will be interesting to see what he wears when he is installed.  So check out his shoes for another clue of how he will treat papal protocol.

Much has been made about the choice of the name Francis. It had been thought that no pope would take the name Peter or Francis because no one would be bold enough to claim kinship with either The Rock of the Lord or the great saint from Assisi who even today is beloved by Catholics and non-Catholics around the world.  But Pope Francis shook and shocked Catholic circles by identifying himself with Francis.

The name is particularly significant because St. Francis is traditionally thought of both for his simplicity and love of nature and for his reform of the Church in a time of corruption. By choosing that name, Pope Francis sent a strong message to Catholics that he will be paying close attention to how the Church deals with the poor and with corruption. It is as if he said by the choice of his name that it won't be business as usual anymore.

Incidentally, the pope chooses a new name to indicate that he is leaving behind his old life and beginning a new one of universal service to the Church. The first popes, such as Peter and Clement, kept their own birth names. The idea of name change came when an early pope's birth name was Mercury and it was thought rather unbecoming to have a Christian leader bear the name of a Roman god. The practice stuck and we've had name-shifting ever since.

Finally, most Catholics are a bit startled by how unassuming Pope Francis is. We've been used to the Rock Star that was Pope John Paul II in his prime and the rather elegant and high-churchy Benedict, so to have a Pope who pays his own hotel bill, travels with his fellow Cardinals in a shuttle bus after his election and stops to pet a golden lab after a press conference with journalists is novel for us.

I can't speak for the whole of Catholics, but as for me, I am encouraged and deeply hopeful that Pope Francis will not just tell us what to believe, but show us how to live.  

May God guide and protect our new pastor from Argentina.

Pope Francis in Motion

He seems to be genuinely engaged with each person he meets. I've never felt a great desire to meet any pope in person, but I would like to meet Pope Francis.

Worth a Thousand Words

Pope Francis riding with the "guys" on the bus back to the hotel after his election instead of taking the papal limo.
I am already incredibly impressed with him. Didn't even take the front seat!

A Few More Facts about Pope Francis

•  A seagull perched on the chimney moments before the smoke announced the election of Pope Francis. The gull’s scientific name is Larus Argentinus Argentina.
• One of Pope Francis' first actions as pope was to phone Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI at Castel Gandolfo.
• He is the ordinary (bishop) for Eastern-rite Catholics in Argentina, who do not have their own ordinary. This means (presumably) that he can celebrate the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom as well as the Roman rite of the Mass.
• He is a “football” (soccer) fan and roots for San Lorenzo de Almagro, one of the five most popular teams in Argentina.
• After his election, he rode the bus back to Doma Santa Marta with his fellow cardinals instead of using the papal car.

A New Spirit, A New Baptism

From the Most Rev. Greg Venables, former Anglican primate from Argentina: 

Many are asking me what Jorge Bergoglio is really like. He is much more of a Christian, Christ centered and Spirit filled, than a mere churchman. He believes the Bible as it is written. I have been with him on many occasions and he always makes me sit next to him and invariably makes me take part and often do what he as Cardinal should have done. He is consistently humble and wise, outstandingly gifted yet a common man. He is no fool and speaks out very quietly yet clearly when necessary. He called me to have breakfast with him one morning and told me very clearly that the Ordinariate was quite unnecessary and that the church needs us as Anglicans. I consider this to be an inspired appointment not because he is a close and personal friend but because of who he is In Christ. Pray for him.