Catholic Theme – Page 7 – Catholic Writers Guild

Alzheimer’s Keeps Reminding Me Why I Love being Catholic

March 7, 2017/5 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Faith, Family Life/by Larry Peterson

I have written about my wife, Marty’s, Alzheimer’s Disease several times. This is another. It was unplanned and spontaneous, triggered by the unique world she and I have come to share together.

I was trying to write something but I was stuck in “neutral.” No pencil scratching, no pen sliding, no keyboard clicking. Then Marty came in and stood there just looking at me and not saying anything. I smiled at her and said, “What’s going on?”

She shakes her head and says, “I really do not feel like going to work tomorrow.” (She has not worked in almost ten years.)

I nonchalantly reply, “Okay, then don’t.”

“Larry, please don’t start with me. You know I have bills to pay.”

“Well then, I’ll call in for you. I’ll tell them you are not feeling good.”

She quickly throws a curve at me. I back away, surprised at the sudden diversion. Raising her voice, she says, “We had better get a few things straight. I have standards and I am not going to be living in sin. I cannot be living here if we are not married.”

I did not know what that had to do with her ‘job” but I mentally bobbed and weaved and circled around. Quickly I said, “We are married.”

She was stunned. She stared at me and I stared back. A moment passed and she said, “We are?”

“Yes, Marty, we have been married for ten years.”

“I suppose you know this for a fact? How can you be sure?”

“We have the papers to prove it.”

I quickly said an emergency “Hail Mary” asking for help. God knew I was in over my head and immediately sent one of His special people. Maybe it was St. Therese or St. Joseph or maybe St. Martha. I really did not care who it was but just like that I had a “thought.” (These folks do not fool around when sent on a mission.)

I had her sit down on the sofa and wait for me. I headed back to my “office” (some may call it a man-cave) and began rifling through the file cabinet in the corner. The top drawer is stuffed with all sorts of “important” papers and I knew that somewhere amongst the mass of disorganized stuff was our marriage license. I started scratching away, peeling papers apart.

I did not keep track of the time but when I looked at the mess of papers I had strewn about it must have been fifteen minutes. Then I hit pay dirt. I found our marriage license. I was sure this would prove to her once and for all that we were, in fact, married.

I hurried back to the sofa and to the woman who immediately asked if I had just gotten home. “Yes,” I shouted. “And look what I have.”

The Pinellas County Marriage License was too confusing for her to understand. The print was small and even though our names were legible and the paper was emblazoned with the words, “Marriage Record,” it did not convince her. I realized she needed “Catholic” proof. That was why she had used the words “living in sin.” Now we come to why I wrote this in the first place.

I slowly headed back to the file cabinet to put the marriage license away. But I had not noticed when pulling the marriage license out that behind it was the 8 X 11 marriage certificate that the church had given us. It was behind the license the whole time. I could not believe it.

It was not a legal document but it was a BEAUTIFUL CATHOLIC document. It had our names on it. On the left side was a Cross with connected wedding bands connected to it. The church’s name was there and it was signed by the deacon and the pastor. It was also perfect for framing.

I had an 11 x 14 frame that was unused. Ten minutes later I brought it out to her. I had her sit next to me on the sofa. “Are you ready?” I asked.

“For what?”

I held this framed certificate up in front of her. She stared and stared at it and then she looked at me and began to cry. She put her head on my shoulder and cried some more. We have used the Hail Mary and the Rosary to help us over some rough Alzheimer’s moments. This time the purely Catholic marriage document was the answer to the prayer. It now hangs in the Florida room and she can see it every day anytime she needs to. Damn—I love being Catholic.

Who Do You Say That I Am?

February 1, 2017/5 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Encouragement for Writers, Faith, Family Life, Inspirational, The Writing Life/by Janice Palko

By Janice Lane Palko

You’ve seen those Ancestry commercials about people who believe they are one race or nationality and then take a DNA test and find out they are not who they thought they were. My husband could be featured in one of those commercials.

This past Christmas, I bought him a DNA test because my parents had had their DNA tested as a gift for me and my siblings. Hence, I thought testing my husband would give our children a clearer picture of their genetic heritage.

My parents’ tests confirmed what my great-grandparents and grandparents had always told me—that I was predominantly Irish, with a splash of English, Welsh, and German. My hubby has always believed that he is half Italian and half Slovak. Imagine our surprise then when I opened the Ancestry email two days after Christmas and learned that he was 29 percent Italian, 25 percent Slovak, and, faith and begorrah, 19 percent Irish! Where did his green roots come from? We still have no idea.

My mother, whose maiden name is Hughes, registered 11 percent Irish and 50 percent Great Britain. Technically, my husband was more Irish than my Irish mother. The target of good-natured jokes from my family over the decades for not being Irish, my hubby now is one of the clan. He has taken great delight in his newly found heritage, lording it over my family, prompting him to don his “Who’s Your Paddy?” T-shirt reserved only for St. Patrick’s Day wear. The axis of our world has shifted a bit, and now I will have to throw away the “Honorary Irishman” button I gave him 36 years ago when we were first dating.

Accompanying the DNA test came a free month’s subscription to the Ancestry website, and I took full advantage of it. I discovered some things along the way. I learned that one paternal great-grandfather, James Lane, had a mother named Mary, a sister named Mary, two wives named Mary as well as a daughter named Mary, which made keeping all the Marys straight very difficult. I learned that a maternal great-great grandfather, who the family had been told had died when my great-grandmother was very young, most likely skipped town to take up with another woman in Colorado. I also learned that my English great-great grandmother who owned a bar, smoked a pipe, had a tattoo, and a pet parrot (I must have descended from sea captains.) and had 13 children was not widowed as had been reported by my late grandfather. She had divorced her husband as her marriage license to her second husband, my great-great-grandfather, stated because of “cruelty and barbaric abuse.” She went on to have a set of twins, one of whom was my great-grandmother. While Catholics dominated my heritage (hence the myriad Marys), I did find some Welsh Baptists and Cornish Methodists among the lot.

However, the most stunning discovery was that I had a fifth great-grandfather, Martin Short, (not to be confused with the comedian and actor), who came from Dublin in 1750 to the U.S. and fought at the battles of Bunker Hill and Yorktown and crossed the Delaware with General George Washington.

In addition, I learned some other, more important things. First, life matters. Although in this day and age, we treat it rather cavalierly, why, if life were not so important, would our ancestors have taken such pains to record births and deaths and chronicle who we have descended from?

Second, as writers, we provide a link to the past. I taught memoir writing for a number of years, and I always urge everyone to write their life story. What we put on paper today may one day offer clues, insights, or inspiration to someone yet to be born.

Third, you are dead for a very long time. My searches revealed a few relatives who died days after birth or as young children and one centenarian. However, no matter how long any of them lived, most have now been dead longer than they were alive, and with each passing day, they are even “deader.”

We will all eventually be dead longer than we have been alive. Therefore, plan accordingly. Make the most of your time on stage. Dream big, write beautifully, love with passion, leave a legacy. And all the while, prepare for your eternity. What you do now will determine where you will be later.

Finally, whether you think you are one nationality or ethnicity and you find out that you are not, or whether you find heroes or scoundrels or just common housekeepers, coal miners, railroad laborers, or shopkeepers in your background or not, it really doesn’t matter. Jesus posed this question of his disciples: Who do you say that I am? We should also ponder the converse. Who does He say that we are? What is our real identity? What He tells us is that we are His fallen creation, who He reclaimed for Himself on the cross so that we could become His beloved children and live with Him in eternity.

While it is interesting to know where you’ve come from, it’s more important to know where you’re going. That supersedes any knowledge of our earthly identity. Cling to your heavenly heritage because it’s the only one that truly lasts.

Pick up the Orange

January 4, 2017/8 Comments/in Beauty, Catholic Fiction, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writers Guild, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Encouragement for Writers, Hope, The Writing Life/by Janice Palko

By Janice Lane Palko

Some people receive profound promptings from the Holy Spirit. Me? I get messages like “pick up the orange.”

A few weeks ago, I walked into my local grocery store and saw a woman select some oranges and put them in a plastic bag. As she walked away out of the corner of my eye, I saw an orange fall from the display and roll across the floor.

You should pick up the orange, said that still small voice.

Instantly, I began rationalizing. I didn’t dislodge the orange. Why should I pick it up? They have stock boys to do that. I’ll look stupid, like I have OCD or something, if I pick it up and put it back where it belongs. Let somebody else do it.

Then my better nature joined the debate. Will it kill you to pick up an orange? Geez, Mother Teresa picked up dying people from the streets, and you’re freaking out over an orange. How shallow are you? Who cares what people think? Someone may trip over it. You will be doing a good deed, no matter how insignificant.

So, I pushed my grocery cart over, picked up the orange, and put it back in the display. But then something else happened.

As I was about to press on with my grocery shopping, I caught a glimpse of a woman to my side bend and pick up another orange, one that I hadn’t even noticed had escaped with the other orange, and replace it in the display.

I was astounded. This woman was following my example.

That little interlude set me to thinking about life, and for those of us who write, about what our toils to turn a phrase may mean in the big scheme of things.

Several months ago, fellow CWG member Cathy Gilmore posted an article from the Catholic News Agency titled The Catholic Church Desperately Needs Artists by Mary Rezac. It detailed how the world so sorely needs creative people who can bring beauty and truth to the culture.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been writing for more than twenty years, and the monetary return on my artistic endeavors has yet to land me a summer home at the beach, a six-figure deal, or a stint on Oprah.

I attend a weekly Bible study, and shortly after the orange incident, our leader asked us to share our all-time favorite inspirational books. One woman recommended He and I by Gabrielle Bossis, a French, Catholic woman who lived from 1874-1950. He and I chronicles the interior conversation she and God shared. When she was putting these conversations on paper, Bossis didn’t know that after her death, they would be published, translated into many languages, and cherished by so many readers.

At times, it may be frustrating when we think of how much time and effort we put into our literary endeavors compared to the remuneration we receive in turn. However, I don’t, and I’m sure many of you don’t, write solely for financial gain. Then, take heart, fellow creatives. Though we may never know the extent of our influence, like Bossis, our work may do good long after we are gone.

I don’t know if God intends for me to be a best-selling author or not. But what I do know is that I’ll be fine with whatever magnitude of success I achieve. I’ll continue to write and strive to bring beauty and truth to the world through my work with the hope of glorifying God.

I may be only a stepping stone for someone who comes after me, a toehold for another writer on their climb to achieving loftier success in reviving what has been a hallmark of the Catholic Church throughout its existence: excellence in artistic expression for the glory of God.

Therefore, as this new year begins, I’m going to pick up that orange and keep on writing. I urge you to do the same. You never know who is watching us or reading works or being inspired by our example. We don’t know who may decide to follow us, who may bend down to pick up that orange we didn’t even realize had also rolled away.

Visiting Homebound Elder-Catholics—A Privilege and Sometimes, an Unexpected Challenge

December 6, 2016/0 Comments/in Blogging, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

I have been an EMHC (Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion) for over twenty years. I have had the honor and privilege of bringing Holy Communion to many people in many places: hospitals, nursing homes, hospice centers, assisted living facilities,and, of course, to the homebound. I love being part of this ministry and it has brought me in touch with some amazing people who have lived their Catholic lives quietly, faithfully and without fanfare or notoriety.

Most of those I visit are Elder-Catholics.These are the Catholic faithful who have, throughout their lives, supported their church, been active in various ministries and carried on the faith that was and still is, part of their very being. Some were born into the Faith and it was nurtured in them by their parents and oftentimes by nuns, brothers, priests and Catholic laypersons. They in turn have passed it on to their own children. Some found the faith as adults and converted. (I so admire those people.) And so, as is the way of things, the Church continues.

I would like to share a story about one of these people. His name is John. I have been bringing Holy Communion to John every Sunday for a little more than a year. He is ninety years old, an Army veteran who spent almost thirty years in the Far East and was married for sixty years. His wife, Mary, passed away several years ago. He loved her dearly and misses her greatly. John is not delusional, or suffering from dementia or anything like that. His mind is sharp and clear. Physically, John is deaf (hearing aids help a tiny bit) and wheelchair bound.

When I arrive at his front door, I push the doorbell. I hear a chime; he does not. Inside, several strobe lights begin to flash, notifying him someone is at the door. He is expecting me and the front door is unlocked. I walk in and he gives out a big, “Hey, hey, good morning.”

I more or less holler back, “Hey John, how you doing today?”

He is always wearing a smile. He says, “Well, I’m still here.” We both laugh.

John is facing a dilemma. He picks up the newspaper from a few days before and points to a story. “Have you gotten any feedback on this?” I look at the paper he has opened to an article dealing with the church’s newly revised guidelines on cremation. I shrug and tell him I have not. He says, “I have a problem and maybe you can help me out. I need some guidance.”

I am not “Father Larry” or “Deacon Larry”…I’m just Larry. I immediately feel a bit insecure because I do not like telling folks what they should or should not do when it comes to their personal faith issues. I quietly ask the Holy Spirit to quickly help me out. Then I say, “I’ll try, John. But I may not be able to. I will go to Father Anthony and ask him if necessary.”

Being part of this ministry can have unexpected rewards. God was about to bless me with a glimpse into the hearts of two Catholics, a man and a woman, people of faith who married in the faith and lived it and who shared a love that did not die upon the death of one–rather, it simply continued and still existed. John says to me, “You know, I am upset about this article. It says we Catholics must bury the ashes of loved ones in sacred ground.”

I said, “That isn’t anything new. Some folks are scattering ashes over the Gulf of Mexico or off mountaintops or sharing them among family members. Those kinds of things are not approved of.”

“Look”, he says. “I have Mary’s ashes here with me. I talk to her every day. I’m all alone and I feel she never really left and I get such comfort from that. Do I have to get her over to the cemetery?”

I’m looking at him and tears are filling his eyes. He wants to be a GOOD Catholic man and he loves his wife and wants to be loyal to her. He will give her up if the Church requires it even though the pain he will feel is unimaginable. It did not matter. He would be true to his faith no matter what. I was looking at a man who would have gladly embraced a martyr’s crown if he had been called upon to do so.

I knew that cremated remains are supposed to be kept intact and placed in a proper vessel. Nervously I began to answer but he continued. “I have a spot down at the VA for both of us. I made arrangements with the funeral home and when I pass they are going to take us together down to the VA and bury us next to each other.”

I breathed a sigh of great relief. Casting doubt to the wind, I told him, “John, that is great. She can stay here with you. She is encased in a vessel and is scheduled for burial. You will make the trip to the VA together. Don’t worry about a thing.”

I will never forget the smile that broke out across his face. I’m not sure if I gave him proper “guidance.” No matter; in this case I am sure the Holy Spirit helped me out. I will check with the priest when I see him.

The Catholic Writers Conference Online is Coming Soon

February 7, 2016/0 Comments/in Catholic Fiction, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writers Conference Online, Catholic Writing and Publishing/by Karina Fabian

It’s almost here! CWCO – the biennial online conference for writers – is set for March 4-6. 2016. This faith-focused authors conference offers presentations covering all aspects of writing from finding your calling as a writer to publishing and marketing your books. There will also be online pitch sessions with noted Catholic publishers and secular publishers.

Attendees must register by Feb 27 at on the CWCO website or this direct link. However, if we get 200 attendees, we will close registration early. Don’t delay!

This year, the conference will be held using webinar software, making the experience more personal and immediate.

“We’ve had people asking for webinar formats in the past, but this is the first year we felt comfortable with the technology and the ability of our attendees to stream live presentations,” said organizer Karina Fabian. Fabian said the workshops offer terrific opportunities to ask in-depth questions and get feedback from knowledgeable instructors.

This year’s sessions include an emphasis on the faith aspects of writing no matter what the genre. Speakers like Gary Zimak, author of Faith, Hope and Clarity; Joe Wetterling, President of the Catholic Writer’s Guild, horror author Jonathan Ryan and others will speak on writing as a calling, a literary revolution, and an evangelization. In addition, there are practical workshops including legal issues, techniques for characterization and plotting, how to journal, and time management.

Pitch sessions give authors with finished books a chance to personally interest a publisher. Pitch sessions include well known Catholic publishers like Servant Books and Ligouri, smaller presses like Liberty Island and Dragon Moon Press, and ebook publishers like eTreasures. (Find the still-growing list here.)

“Every year, we hear back from an author who finished a book, started a project, or got a publishing contract thanks to the Catholic Writers’ Conference Online. Plus people make contacts and good friends. It’s a terrific opportunity, especially for those who can’t afford to attend a live conference,” Fabian said.

This year’s conference is $40; $25 for members of the Catholic Writers’ Guild. To register or for more information, go to http://www.catholicwritersconference.com.

From the President’s Desk – World Meeting Recap

October 23, 2015/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing/by Ellen Gable Hrkach

I’m currently preparing to leave for the Catholic Writers Retreat (Your Word is My Delight) in Dewitt, Michigan. It begins on Sunday. If you’re attending, I look forward to seeing you there!

World Meeting of Families
My husband and I had a wonderful time last month at the World Meeting of Families in Philadelphia. We attended as exhibitors (manning the Catholic Writers Guild booth.) Special thanks to Erin McCole Cupp for helping set up the booth!

We spoke to many people, answered questions and gave out hundreds of Guild brochures and business cards. A few CWG members stopped by the booth to visit. We were there as exhibitors, but we also attended the keynote presentations and daily Masses.

CWG Booth, photo E. Hrkach

Sacramental Life
Attending Mass daily with 17,500 other people was a unique experience. The Convention Center hall where Mass and the keynote presentations took place is an enormous indoor auditorium capable of seating 20,000 or more. There were Jumbotrons (big screens) that allowed us to see the altar up close. There was a bit of a Disneyland atmosphere and rarely could people remain quiet before Mass (despite the multi-language messages asking for prayerful reverence), but it was understandable given the numbers of people and the once-in-a-lifetime experience of the World Meeting of Families. There were also ample opportunities for adoration and confession.

Multicultural Experience
Each Mass was trilingual: English, Spanish and Vietnamese. The reading was proclaimed in one of the three languages and the Gospel in another language. The parts of the Mass varied in language, but our little Mass booklet always included the English translation. The homilies were in English and were given by the celebrant (usually a cardinal or bishop). Some of the break out sessions and keynote presentations were in different languages or translated for attendees.

On various occasions, while sitting in the lobby trying to access the internet, or in the washrooms, or in the narrow hallways, different languages could be heard by attendees. The Nigerian attendees dressed colorfully and identically, with a different vibrant outfit for each day, and on the first day, they could be heard chanting an exuberant African song in the halls of the Convention Center. A Vietnamese choir sang a beautiful hymn at one of the Masses and a large group of Spanish attendees enthusiastically chanted after one of the Masses.

With two members of the Nigerian group!

Exhibits
The exhibit hall contained over 500 exhibitors from all over the world. EWTN, Knights of Columbus, many religious orders, publishers, Catholic stores and tee shirt companies sold items that one would normally have to purchase online and pay shipping. Some offered special deals. Unfortunately, because of “security concerns” with the Pope’s impending arrival, the World Meeting of Families organizers closed down the exhibit hall one day early, so many attendees didn’t have a chance to peruse the exhibits.

At the booth in the huge exhibit hall. We were right across from Ave Maria Press. Photo by L. Power

World Meeting of Families Mural
Attendees also had the unique opportunity to paint a small section of the World Meeting of Families mural, which will be permanently displayed on the side of St. Malachy’s School in Philadelphia when it is completed. The mural will be listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the “Mural with the highest number of contributors!”

My husband, James, painting a small section of the WMOF Mural. Photo by E. Hrkach

Festival of Families and Papal Mass
It was edifying to see hundreds of thousands of Catholics and non-Catholics enthusiastically welcoming the Holy Father. Security was tight at both public transportation stations and security checkpoints to the ticketed area where both the Festival of Families and the Papal Mass were held. Digital devices were turned on to make sure they were actual devices. No one was exempt from the security, including all religious sisters and priests. Apples, oranges and hard fruits were taken away (because, we were told, they could be used as weapons). The confiscated fruit was donated to the local food bank and homeless shelter.

Because we arrived at the Ben Franklin Parkway early on Sunday morning, we managed to find a spot that had an excellent view of the altar. After walking 30 blocks (3.5 miles) our feet ached, but our hearts were full with anticipation as we waited for the Holy Father to arrive. A group of Spanish pilgrims chanted “Papa Francesco!” When Pope Francis finally passed by during the motorcade, I was too short to see him (although I was able to see the top of his white-capped head going by). Fortunately, my husband managed to take this excellent close up photograph of Pope Francis.

Photo courtesy James Hrkach

All in all, we were happy to have attended and promoted the Catholic Writers Guild. However, we were equally happy to be home as it was an exhausting trip!

CWG Elections!!
Elections are coming soon! Watch for an email that you’ll be receiving with information about voting!

If you have any questions, comments or concerns, please don’t hesitate to ask! president(at)catholicwritersguild(dot)org.

In Jesus and Mary,

Ellen Gable Hrkach
President, CWG

Faith on the Edge of a Cliff – Thoughts of a Wyoming Catholic College Student – Episode 3

August 1, 2015/1 Comment/in Beauty, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Christian education of youth, Faith/by Mary Jessica Woods

Last month in my blog series on my journey to Wyoming Catholic College, I explained the purpose and benefit of a Great Books curriculum. This month, I offer a reflection on WCC’s outdoor program—one of the school’s most distinctive and essential elements.

Image courtesy of Wyoming Catholic College

Three years ago my family took a vacation to Yellowstone Park. That was one my first times out West, and the first time I’d been to Wyoming. During the road trip and our hikes through the park, I found myself stunned by the beauty of the land—a pristine, craggy, wild kind of beauty, totally new to my Chicago-suburb eyes. In short, I fell in love. On our last day in Yellowstone, this is what I wrote in my journal:

“Once God’s finger touched this land, and the earth still sings and trembles with that glory. It sings of open grass, of tumbled rocks and sagebrush, in thin gold-green tones as high as wind. It sings of rivers, lazy and brilliant among the meadows, rushing and deep foam-flecked green between the cliffs, in strains strong and ever-flowing. It sings of pines and pine-shadows with somber, tall, fragrant, mysterious notes. And last but reaching above all else is the song of the mountains—keen, stirring, cragged and snow-capped, draped in the pines and calling…calling in their great deep voices, stern and irresistible as distant bells. Tolling out a fell and beautiful song…this, this, this is the voice of the land. It is a song you must hear with all your being. So hear the song, and sing back a hymn, to complete the harmony of Creation, and its Supreme God.”

Little did I suspect that I would be returning to Wyoming for four years of college!

The mountains and rivers are an integral part of the curriculum at Wyoming Catholic College, just as much as the Great Books. Nature is “God’s First Book,” from which students learn the lessons of wonder, humility, and leadership. In fact, the freshman orientation is a 21-day backpacking trip in the Rocky Mountains.

Yes, it’s required. And yes, I am nervous. But more than that, I am looking forward to the challenge and the beauty and the experience. For I already know how well it works. Last year I attended a two-week summer program at the college, which included a weekend backpacking trip.

First of all, there’s nothing that tastes as good as a meal you’ve cooked yourself after hiking three or four (or more) miles on a rough mountain trail. And there aren’t many things cooler than standing around a bonfire under a starry summer sky in the middle of nowhere, singing folk songs and Gregorian chant with your friends.

To be serious, though, I had profound experiences of both wonder and humility during that summer camp. I found myself inspired, challenged, and changed—broken open, thrust into new horizons, discovering weaknesses I’d hidden and growing in new strengths. And that was just two weeks. Now I get to spend four years steeping myself in this life-changing beauty.

If I tried to list all the encounters with wonder I had during those weeks, this would be a very long blog post. Fortunately, I do have a favorite experience to share. One of the college chaplains came out with us on the weekend backpacking trip to celebrate Mass. Sunday morning found the forty of us kneeling on a massive rock which rose above the pines and the sagebrush, while the priest celebrated the liturgy from a boulder-turned-altar. The rock scraped my knees and the July sun glared in my eyes, but I felt more focused than I had during any of the Masses I’d attended in church that week. This rock was God’s altar, this brilliant sky His cathedral. I was saturated in delight and wonder.

My experiences of humility were not always as pleasant as my encounters with wonder, but they were equally valuable. I’m an introvert-perfectionist, so I hate acting stupid or admitting my flaws. But the wilderness exposes spiritual weaknesses just as it challenges physical ones. I will never forget the day my group went rappelling in Sinks Canyon. After teaching us the technique for traditional rappelling (climbing down a cliff backwards in a rope and harness), our instructors offered us the chance to try it “Australian style” (a.k.a., “defying every single human instinct relating to the law of gravity”).

Me (in orange) beginning to freak out! Photo by Grace Pfeifer.

I was either feeling very brave or very overconfident. I found myself walking down a cliff headfirst, with the harness pressing into my stomach so that I could barely breathe. More than once I panicked, slipped, and fell dangling against the cliff face. Only with the firm guidance of my ground team did I finally reach the bottom. I was exhausted, bruised, and rawly humiliated. But I was also extremely grateful for my ground team. I realized that if I relaxed and trusted my teachers and teammates, I could not only live through a terrifying experience like Australian rappelling, but I could also grow from it.

I have yet to learn leadership from WCC’s outdoor trips, but I will soon. At some point during the three weeks of the freshman orientation, I will be in charge of my group for at least one day—planning the route and making the decisions. The rest of the time, I’ll have to be a cooperative and active follower—which, for an introvert-perfectionist, may not always be easy, either!

The purpose of WCC’s freshman orientation, to my mind, is a sort of a baptism by fire. Right from the start, the students are challenged, thrust beyond their comfort zone, and taught the importance of virtue in a real-life situation. The lessons of wonder, humility, and leadership I’ll learn won’t be confined to the outdoors—I’ll bring them back to the classroom, my relationships, and my whole life.

I’ll see you in God’s country.

The Nativity of Our Lord

December 23, 2014/0 Comments/in Advent, Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, History, Hope, Religious Liberty/by Leslie Lynch

Luke 2: 1-20 The Infancy Narrative

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria. So all went to be enrolled, each to his own town. And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem , because he was of the house and family of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear. The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying:

“Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels went away from them to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.

We, too, keep all these things, reflecting on them in our hearts, and give glory and praise to God for all we have seen and heard, just as it has been told to us.

Merry Christmas ♥

Fortnight for Freedom: Freedom to Serve (and Love)

June 24, 2014/2 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Pro-life, Religious Liberty/by Leslie Lynch

Fortnight for Freedom: Freedom to Serve

The US Conference of Catholic Bishops has adopted this modifier—freedom to serve—for the third annual Fortnight for Freedom campaign. Most people are aware of the legal battles being waged in this country, and readers of this blog even more so. The intent of the current wave of laws and regulations is to force religious entities (whether “corporate” or individual) to renounce their moral compass and bend to the will of the government.

As Catholic Christians, how are we to respond? Many are called to write letters to their Congressional representatives and Senators at both state and federal levels—and this is an action all of us can take. Many work tirelessly behind the scenes to support various facets of Catholic work, whether it’s running a food pantry, providing for the needs of unwed mothers, or establishing hospitals and schools for the good of all served, without prejudice or prerequisites.

Some are called to speak for the rest of us. Archbishop Cordileone of San Francisco tangled with Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi over the March for Marriage last week, and the result was a clear and courageous letter. Then he exercised his rights as an American and his leadership as a Catholic Bishop as he spoke at the March for Marriage.

Unlike the secular us versus them approach that inflames divisiveness, though, Archbishop Cordileone responded with a call to love.

This, too, is something we can all do. No, it is the one thing we are all called to do, even unto death.

It is too tempting to fall into the us versus them abyss. It is far too easy to judge. But we are called to recognize our commonalities with our fellow earthly travelers. We are told by Jesus that we are to serve them, to offer them love, even as we reject and resist what is forced upon us. We are to pray for those who persecute us and love our enemies. Yes, we are to do the work placed before us, but we are to do it with hearts filled with love, and we are to do it joyfully.

An inspiring post on one way to approach this challenge appeared on Saints 365 last month. It went straight to my heart and has stayed with me since. It’s a reflection on Max Lucado’s book You Are Special, a children’s story with even more relevance for adults, especially in these volatile times. God loves each one of us, no matter who we are or what we believe—or who/what we believe ourselves to be. Our role is to strive toward the heart of Jesus, which is full of truly unfathomable mercy.

It may be easier to do battle—and I do not discount that some people, maybe all of us, are called to that role—but before battle of any kind, we are called to love. Love, without self-righteousness; love, without prejudice; love, without pride.

Just love.

Can we find the courage to see our persecutors through the eyes of Christ? Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. These words, uttered by Jesus and echoed by St. Steven, must be our focal point.

Let’s try.

Meanwhile, let us go forth to love and serve the Lord.

*Here are links to my previous Fortnight for Freedom posts on this blog:
Freedoms We Hold Dear: Freedom of Religion and Freedom of Speech
Religion and Politics: A Polite Conversation

A Love Story that Embraced God’s Love

May 6, 2014/5 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Inspirational/by Larry Peterson

Sometimes God puts you in a place and you just have to stand in awe and humility as you feel His presence. This is about a love story and, no doubt about it, I know HE has been involved. Why I was allowed to be a small part of this story is beyond me. But I was and I thank HIM for it. Anyway, please allow me to share my experience(s) of the past several months. I was witness to the love shared between Ed and Cathy, husband and wife, both dying from cancer, together, holding hands, smiling at each other and at peace as the days passed by.

Ed and Cathy Caramiglio had only been my neighbors for a short time, less than a year I think. Ed was a retired commercial painter and also a master wood carver who had his magnificent creations all around his house. Ed and Cathy were simply enjoying life together. I guess the two of them might be considered an unusual couple. They had met when Ed was 60 and Cathy was 40 and neither had ever been married. Now, after celebrating their silver wedding anniversary, Ed’s prostate cancer had returned with a vengeance and was destroying him quickly. Cathy had been diagnosed with Stage IV Melanoma. She told me about that when ‘maybe’ she had six months to live. ( It was the exact same thing my first wife had died from 12 years earlier.) So there they were, three houses down, spending their last months together and making the best of what still was.

They had no children and it was just the two of them. How did I fit in? Well, besides being a neighbor, they knew that I was an EMHC (Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion), and asked me if I might bring Holy Communion to them if they could not make it to Mass. I told her I would be honored and to “just let me know when.”

A few more months went by and Ed moved slower and slower. Then he began using a walker to get around. He would come over and we would just joke around about silly stuff, like how many cream donuts he had eaten that morning or how much money he lost one night at Yonker’s Raceway in New York. The guy was only about five feet four but he loved to talk and laugh and had a sparkle in his eye that caught your attention instantly. I would ask if they could make it to Mass and he would always smile and say, “Thanks, Larry, Cathy will let you know if we can’t.” Unable to push that walker for more than ten feet it quickly became necessary for me stop by and see how they were doing. Hospice was now there on a daily basis but they were still managing to function okay.

My daily routine usually starts at around 5:30 a.m. with a one-hour walk. A few weeks ago, I inexplicably decided that I needed to take another walk. It was around 4 p.m. I actually tried to talk myself out of taking this walk but finally “talked” myself into it. (I guess I do talk to myself a lot.) Out the door I went and headed down the street. Ed has an F-150 brown Ford pick-up with a cap covering the truck bed. As I walked past the truck I was dumbfounded to see Cathy standing there on the front lawn supported by her walker. I stopped short and said, “Oh, Cathy, hi. Wow, I did not expect to see you standing here.”

“I was waiting for you. I need to talk to you.”

I was dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? I never walk at this time of day and you say you were waiting for me.”

“I just knew you were coming by. I can’t explain it.”

I had a chill run down my back. I really did. I leaned against the truck as she leaned heavily on her walker. She could hardly stand up. “You know Ed is dying, right?”

“Yes Cathy, I know. And how about you? How are you doing?”

She smiled and looked me right in the eye saying, “I have a few weeks left.”

I tightened my lips, took a breath, and asked, “Do you want a priest?”

“Oh yes, please, can you do that for us? That is why I was out here waiting for you. We need a priest right away.”

It was not necessary that a priest come at that very moment so I told her I would bring a priest over ASAP. She smiled and thanked me and I walked her back to the house. She did not mention herself once, only her husband. She told me how she wished she could ease his suffering and how wonderful it might be if they could go for a bicycle ride just one more time. She mentioned how she thanked God for every moment they had had together.

I went inside and she, Ed, and I hung out for about ten minutes just chatting. Cathy excused herself and slowly walked back to the bedroom. Ed quickly told me how he wished he could ease her suffering and how God had been so good to him allowing him to find such a great woman to share his life with. When God is present sometimes it is hard to breathe. I took a deep breath, gave Ed a hug and left.

We have a young priest at our parish, Father Scott. He just turned 32. I saw him Monday morning of Holy Week and told him about Ed and Cathy. He had to preside at a funeral at 10 a.m. and then go to the cemetery. He said he would be free in the early afternoon and would then come over. I headed to the church office and registered them as parishioners, something they had never done. I went home and told my neighbors Father would be over later in the day and that they had been registered as parishioners at Sacred Heart Church. Ed started to cry. Cathy hugged him and joined him crying. Next thing I knew my forefinger was swiping itself under the bottom of my right eye. I told them I would be back later with Father Scott and left.

Father Scott spent about an hour with Ed and Cathy. Ed and the young priest both had roots in Roanoke, Virginia, and talked and laughed and had a raucous good time together. Even though the two of them were separated by more than 50 years it did not matter. It was as if they had grown up together. It was beautiful. Father anointed both of them and told them he would come back the first chance he could. It was the beginning of Holy Week and he would be busy. They all hugged and said good-bye.

Easter Sunday I was privileged to bring Ed and Cathy Holy Communion. They were lying next to each other in bed, holding hands. Ed smiled and said, “Larry, we are SO happy. This is the greatest Easter we ever had.” He turned and looked at his wife who was smiling lovingly at him. She reached over and wiped his wet happy eyes.

Ed died last week. Cathy is now a patient in Hospice House with little time left. I will never forget Ed and Cathy because the love between them shined so brightly and was a beautiful, inspiring, God-given thing. As for me, I just want to thank God for allowing me to be their friend and a part of their final journey, albeit for the briefest of moments. I have been blessed.