Friday, March 30, 2007

How one knows that one is living miraculously

  • A different 50+ people come to your house every night to pray with your family
  • people who have said that they do not believe in God tell you that they are praying for you
  • You wake up with thoughts on life that insist on being written down. Feeling completely instrumental (and not at all exerting agency over the words) you open up a blank screen and begin writing. Twenty minutes after continuous typing, an article appears only to be found somehow by a priest in Florida two weeks later --who then reads it to his congregation....AND this somehow gets back to you 'through a friend'.
  • People want to be at your house all the time around you and your dying father because there is an incomprehensible feeling of peace
  • You haven't been sick-not in the slightest-for 6 months, with sick people all around you
  • You haven't prepared a meal in 3 weeks
  • A priest pleads for prayers for your family in a newsletter that reaches 18,000 of the faithful
  • red roses in your living room stay in bloom for weeks on end
  • your sister's boyfriend of quiet faith, tells you that he prays the rosary on the fishing boat for the family
  • and perhaps most importantly...but the most difficult one to put into words: The whole community seems to have simultaneously lost the ' that's your problem attitude'. There is no superficiality, only genuinely concerned and prayerful hearts

And many, many more. To be continued....

The shadow proves the sunshine

We all have a vague concept of how we were created to be. Our broken spirits and our desperation are the results of the disparity between our fallen state and the consciousness of the state of grace that we were meant to embrace.

With all of this pain, therefore comes the recognition that there is a way of existing without it. The fact that we recognize the presence of pain proves that it is possible for pain to be obsolete (to NOT exist).

The shadow proves the sunshine.
When we dwell in darkness, Lord, help us to remember the brief bouts of sunshine that life sometimes affords - also help us to remember that the existence that You are calling us to is one of eternal sunshine (Son-shine).

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

A prayer from my uncle Todd:

Daily Prayer of Surrender

Heavenly Father, once again we come before you with wearied minds and broken hearts as we witness the anxieties and sufferings of Daddy, whom we love so dearly. Yet, Lord. we also trust in Your infinite Love and Mercy.

Declaring the power of salvific suffering, the Apostle Paul says: "In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church" (Colossians 1:24).

Therefore, we know that Daddy's and our sufferings have immense value and meaning when they are united with those of your precious Son, Jesus. Give us the fortitude and courage to carry our crosses , as long as You permit them in our lives.

With steadfast trust in your Word, we unite Daddy's sufferings-as well as our own-with the sufferings of Jesus Christ on the Cross of Calvary, in atonement for our sins , the sins of the whole world , and the conversion of sinners around the world.

You alone, Oh Lord, are the Author of Life and Death. In faith, we now choose to surrender into Your hands, the hour and the day and hour of Daddy's departure from this world and his glorious entry into your Heavenly Kingdom. Free us from all anxieties, fears and needless worry, as we await the fulfillment of Your Holy Will.

We thank You for inviting us as a family to actively participate in the Redemption of the world in this profound and special way.


Amen.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

" Life is lovely"

Yesterday being the first day of warm weather of the season, we all had spring fever. My father had not been out of his hospital bed in our living room for about three weeks (minus a four-step assisted transfer to a rocking chair), so my sister Jillian proposed the impossible: that dad should sit out in the backyard. Jillian, full of confidence that dad would be as excited as herself, leaned down to dad's ear and asked ' how would you like to sit out in the sun?'. Dad opened both eyes fully (very rare) smiled and said: 'I'd love it'. As if he was thinking it all along but didn't dare bring it up because of the awkwardness of the whole procedure. It took an entourage of six people, a wheeled computer chair, and a lot of enthusiasm, but we got him outside.

It was so worth it.

Once we had him all arranged with support blankets and pillows on his chair outside, we were all mesmerized by the look of sheer joy and appreciation on his face. He just kept whispering: 'beautiful, just beautiful'. We all prayed (sung!) the Chaplet of Divine Mercy (quickly becoming a family favourite) and then sat in silence. I can't fully describe how light we all felt. We were certain that there were no other people in town who were savoring the day like we were. We were all thinking the same thing, and no one shied away from becoming slightly emotional. I will NEVER forget that afternoon. I know exactly what spring smells like, now..I took special note when I saw dad taking special note. At first I thought that taking him outside might be in some ways cruel, because fair weather sometimes has a way of taunting those who are underneath of it. Sunny days present a carefree feeling that few people have ever fully known. No matter what it always seems that we are not quite taking full advantage of the beauty of the day, at least I feel personally that I am lacking when faced with so much blue sky. But this day was different. I heard everything, and smelled everything in the high sun of yesterday afternoon...from here on, whenever I feel spring coming and sense its efforts to lift up my head, I will lift up my head and I will always let my mind's eye return to the look of peace on my father's face.

Not to mention we let him drink a quarter of a beer...very important point. We are Irish Catholics, after all. Then he asked us one more favor: that we would take him for a drive out to our cottage on Island Pond lake. My father has just come to finish building the most beautiful cottage I have ever seen, but then I know I am admittedly biased. When he was first diagnosed (Christmas day, 2001--the milestones in his cancer walk are noteworthy as I think we will continue to see...) dad started to build ' his dream cottage' with a few of his friends. Dad studied electrical, construction basics, plumbing--you name it, in order to build this place. Every square inch of that cottage was engineered and built by my father's own hands.

Even though we were all seeing the beginnings of a grimace from muscle spasms and inevitable neuropathic pain, we knew that since we came this far, we needed to make the drive out to Island Pond..to let him see the cottage for what we knew was probably the last time.

The lake was so stark looking-the water was slate grey with parts still wearing a thin layer of ice..the sky closely matched in its icy blue tone. We just sat there in silence with the occasional compliment on dad's work. We all feel that though it is the family cottage, it is dad's first. It will always be his...

We got back to the house, loaded him onto the computer chair, wheeled him to his bed and got him settled in.

Mom: What a day, Robert. Sunshine, prayer, fresh fruit (we had some on his bed afterwards), a drive and even beer. It doesn't get much better than that.

Dad: Yep. Life is lovely...God is so good.

Mom: You know, when you get there, God will say 'well done, Robert'

Dad: and I'll say 'Thanks. You didn't too bad yourself.'



My dad is my hero.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Were not our hearts ablaze ...?

The Lord works through our suffering... I have searched, yet I have found nothing more obviously true. This morning, as I was agonizing over my own inability to pray, I was forcefully struck with my own blindness of our unique situation. Imagine the value of these prayers? Even if I do not feel anything, the worth of the offering is beyond measure. How vain we can be, little creatures that we are. We feel that if the tiny antennaes that are our human senses cannot perceive that God is listening, then He is not.
For years I have been familiar with the saying 'unite your sufferings with those of Christ'- but this lent, in my 22nd year of life, I think I get it. To loosely quote St. Therese, our suffering is the only thing that is truly ours to offer to God. All else that is, belongs already to Him. These sufferings, therefore are infinitely valuable. The uncertainties surrounding our suffering...the dryness of prayer, the whole desert experience...these things will be put to our credit if we bear them with grateful hearts and steadfast spirits.
We are tired. Very tired...the night shifts are really messing up all of our circadian rhythms. But thanks be to God, it is a gorgeous spring day in the maritimes and life will go on. My heart will be more mature and much more dependent on God to be the 'unique joy of my heart' (St.Pio). May we never stop along the way to dwell in our own sorrows...instead let them be for us a tool to remind us that the one who knew the greatest sorrow (Mary, our Mother while watching her own Son and her God die at the hands of men), holds the greatest place in heaven among the angels. Let us ponder all these things in our hearts...

Saturday, March 17, 2007

and the Truth will set us free

Do you find yourself tripping over your words more than usual lately in the effort to appear politically correct? This past Christmas season, more than in previous years, I have been especially aware of the awkward ‘holiday’ jargon. To me, it is obvious that we belong to a society whose members are so fearful of stepping on toes that they often do not step out at all.
This past spring, I spent a month working in the shantytowns of Peru with the Canadian Catholic Student’s Association (CCSA). While there, we had the chance to work with the Christian Life movement, a spiritual family founded by a priest named Luis Fernando Figari, about 30 years ago. On one particular evening our group of 60 university students from all over Canada had the chance to hear Fr. Luis Fernando speak. I will never forget this meeting. At the beginning of his talk, Fr. Luis Fernando warned us that many of us Canadians would find him abrasive and some of us would be offended. Luis Fernando then proceeded to speak at length on all the ‘hot topics’ such as abortion and pro-life issues, ‘state-driven’ degradation of marriage, and materialism. He told us that we were headed toward destruction if we continued to create our own truths (i.e. defining where life begins, redefining the covenant of marriage). Figari entreated that because God's ways are so above the ways of humanity, we must not lean only on our own understanding. Fr,. Luis Fernando was right. Many people were offended and some people walked out. On the bus on the way back to our lodgings, I remember hearing people protest that there were too many exceptions to his absolute ideologies or that Figari obviously did not understand the multi-cultural reality in Canada.
When I think about the conundrum of political correctness, I think about a verse from John: “If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples , and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31-32 ). This freedom that Jesus speaks of does not suggest an obsessive fear of insulting people. We learn from the scriptures that while on earth Jesus used tact, but He was far from what we would call politically correct. If we follow Jesus, He promises that sin will not lay a claim on us. In this spirit of obedience to God, we are not promised popularity but we are promised peace for living in the Word. This is not to say of course that we should become blunt or ignorant, but we should not live in a country where we are frightened to fully embrace the faith of our ancestors. Lingo will continue evolving, and our children will frown at the ‘correct’ terminologies of our time, but Jesus, the source of our salvation and the realities of His Church, will not change.
I often reflect that the people who have most radically changed the world for the better; these unanimously exalted individuals throughout history were not politically correct people. In fact, the most admired of the world’s heroes defended their beliefs sometimes to the point of death. It is becoming clear to me that becoming bold does not mean becoming reckless, but it does mean reconsidering who it is that we live to please. Let us not be afraid!
“ You will arraigned before governors and kings because of me, as a witness before them. But the gospel must first be preached to all nations. When they lead you away and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say. But say whatever will be given to you at that hour.” (Mark 13: 9-11)

O Precious to the Lord is the Death of His Faithful (Psalm 116)

I have just recently moved back to Yarmouth, N.S., for a while to be with my family. My father has being fighting cancer for six years and after four plus rounds of chemotherapy and a few experimental drugs; his body is tired of the fight. Since the beginning of Lent, I have had the opportunity to live out the way of the Cross in the supernatural realm that surrounds a soul in transition. My father is a very holy man, and in turn, those around him have no choice but to become holy. If we were to treat everyone as being indispensable to our lives, we would see that we ourselves become indispensable.

From my father’s sickness, I know what it feels like to be a member of the body of Christ. I have quietly watched as people have come forward each offering their humble services with no hope of repayment. I have watched people bring turkey dinners, others fill our house with flowers, others vacuum around me, and still others correct plumbing problems and shovel our driveway. All of this is done with such joy to be of service. When we spend our lives serving others, we are never at a loss; instead we are storing up treasure for the end of our lives and in heaven and I see this is precisely what my father has done for himself.

From this vantage point, I see that throughout my whole life, I have regarded death and grief as something ‘other’; something completely foreign and irrelevant to my life. When cancer came into my family, however, I became quickly aware not only the relevance of death but also its glory! I understand now that our whole lives should be spent serving those around us and preparing ourselves to meet Our Lord. Our life is merely a means to an end, not an end in itself! How often I have heard this said, but only now do I fully understand. Of course it is normal to be fearful of change, but death is not meant to be terrifying, for, it is the event that our soul longs for everyday!

In Saint Faustina’s diary Our Lord tells her: “Pray as much as you can for the dying. By your entreaties, obtain for them trust in My mercy, because they have the most need of trust, and have it the least. Be assured that the grace of eternal salvation for certain souls in their final moment depends on your prayer” . True to these words, my mother woke up one morning with the idea to open our doors every night for a community rosary. Every night at seven-thirty a different 30 to 40 people flock to our house to ask for Our Blessed Mother’s intercession. If there is one word to describe the atmosphere brought about through the praying of the rosary that word is peacefulness: a peace that transcends each individual’s place in their faith walk.

I have read many books on the saints. One thing I have always remarked is that their deaths are always extraordinary and always peaceful (even the martyrs!). I remember always thinking how beautiful it would be to be present at such a death because everyone would be so certain of the treasure awaiting the faithful soul. When we spend time with those who have great faith, we find ourselves becoming more faithful. Even in death, our work is not done. If anything, the impact of our faith on others increases dramatically as we near the end of our earthly lives.

At my dad’s bedside, I have seen hearts of stone crumble, perspectives change, and minds open with a few whispered words out of my father. I will never fail to see the value in suffering, again. We have a God who operates outside of time. Keeping in mind that this life is a speck in eternity; a grain of sand on a beach, the pain of this life is a small price to pay for not only one’s own salvation and eternal joy, but also, the salvation and eternal joy of others. Let us carry our crosses together this lent and remember that Jesus, God’s only Son, came to earth with the express purpose of suffering and dying for us. If suffering is God’s way of attaining salvation for the world, how much more then should we recognize its power to save!

Today, we blog

I believe that I have held out long enough. Initially, it seemed to me that this would be an effort of vanity...I have convinced myself otherwise. I have things to say and more to pray...so welcome to my little garden.

I feel that it will be of future value to say that I started this blog while at home with my family for a rest. My father, Robert, is nearing the end of a 6-year fight with cancer and we, his family have been heaven's prized beggars for quite some time. We are a family of great faith (Roman Catholic) and I feel that miracles are happening in this little ocean town and abroad through my father's sickness and his great faith. So stay close to us, and I will share the view...

If you see this, you must pray.
In His Love.