When I read Gene’s death notice recently, I remembered the stories he shared, but most importantly, I recalled a lesson he taught me before his failing health required his move to a personal care facility. It was a short lesson, but memorable, nonetheless. In fact, this man of many stories just used one word!
"Life changes in a moment/ The loss – you’re made to own it." In a powerful poem on the diocesan "Trading Parables" blog, Carl Goodwill makes sense of suffering and seeks God through it.
In the Old Testament, there are numerous examples of angels of the Lord that are sent to guard and protect humanity. The Psalmist proclaims in Psalm 91: “For he commands his angels about you, to guard you wherever you go. With their hands they shall support you, lest you strike your foot against a stone.”
You and I and all people are called to holiness. This is a call to the “Royal Priesthood” by virtue of our Baptism. By this great and powerful sacrament, we enter our relationship with Jesus Christ, our best friend and ultimate love.
Recently, my wife and I experienced a deeply personal loss. The pain is very difficult to describe. As I was recently driving to work, I heard the words on the radio, “Don’t focus on the end, focus on the journey to get there.”
There was a time not too long ago when I was excelling in my career, thought that I knew everything, and felt I knew exactly what was good for me. Though I was materially happy, an inner voice began to nudge me, telling me that there was more to life.
There is a fire burning inside me and Satan wants to starve it by removing my hope, the oxygen that feeds my fire. He tries to convince me that small acts of love will not make a difference in the world. I must let God’s voice speak louder than his.
The peace of the Eucharistic gift I had just received at Mass drove from my heart the anxiety I might have felt about a growing to-do list. Mary stood still, yet every curve of her figure enswathed the movements of my prayer.
Quarantine killed my shamrock plant. Its leaves had drooped to form a wilted brown ring around its sky blue pot, which greeted me when I returned to my apartment after three months of quarantining with my family.
I was determined to notice more on this walk, to find some tiny feature I had overlooked in previous springs. I would not take daffodils for granted this year.
Those profound words started me thinking about who I am, what my God-given talents are, and whether I use them to make a happy life for myself and others.
I can’t say there was one moment when a sense of feeling God’s presence overwhelmed me. It was a million little moments. The countless instances of beauty in the pain showed me that God was there, working amid the chaos.
“Our congregation is now making better use of our resources, and there are similar opportunities in parishes if we’re really willing to look at the future and not just preserve the past,” she said
It wasn’t just my kids trying to get my attention. Jesus was interrupting me to force me to say these words over and over and over until I heard him speak through them.
With over 900 guests in attendance, the conference teemed with energy and excitement as women from all over Pittsburgh came together to celebrate the beauty and strength of their womanhood within the world and the Church.