As I prepared for confession today, a piece of spiritual advice came to mind.  I had heard it paraphrased years ago, probably by our youth director. 
 
St. Faustina shares these words, once directed to her: “Do not fight against a temptation by yourself but disclose it to the confessor at once, and then the temptation will lose all its force.”
 
I think the way it was put to me was that, when we confess temptations, “they lose their punch.” 
 
The recollection of this adage was good for me today as it encouraged me to bring a temptation I’d been fighting for a long time to this Sacrament of Mercy.  I hadn’t planned on doing so before this thought came to me during my preparation. 
 
I ended up having a very good confession and left with peace and courage.  I know a daily struggle still awaits me, but am hopeful that I’ll experience some of “the punch” being taking out of the temptation in this area of my life. 

​I pray that the graces of this confession may be sealed and may be fruitful in my life as I move forward “with the help of [His] grace.”

Today, the Church celebrates the conversion of Saint Paul to the Christian faith.  Needless to say, it’s a very important day. 
 
On this day, though, my mind often drifts from this first goes to our Sister whose birthday was also January 25th. 
 
She loved playing Pinochle, and would have a card party with cake and ice cream to celebrate her birthday. 
 
While St. Paul used pen and preaching to spread the gospel, Sr. Mary used her gift for art.
 
When I was in formation, I used to clean in her art room every week.  Boy, was that a job!
 
There were so many knickknacks and projects to dust around.  The floor (what you could see of it) was bubbled in one place so the dust mop would catch. 
 
It was definitely an interesting place to clean! 
 
Now, years later, on this feast of St. Paul, I remember her fondly and ask the intercession of the great “Apostle to the Gentles” for her and all of our Sisters. 
 
I would appreciate your prayers as well.

I was doing a bit of reading earlier today from a book discussing the Divine Mercy devotions.  
 
Interestingly, the author was trying to make a distinction between one of St. Faustina’s experiences and other some visions of saints.  He mentioned how, at that time, children outside of her convent had been drawn by a bright light coming from there, concluding that Jesus had actually come to the saint’s cell in His glorified body.  
 
I had never heard this before and found it thought-provoking, if nothing else.  
 
Without giving this assertion much additional consideration, I went on with my day, which included a visit to the Blessed Sacrament for some prayer time.  
 
As I was praying before the tabernacle, it dawned on me that Jesus had actually come here in His glorified body as well.  
 
In the tabernacle, there He was…there He is!  
 
We are so blessed!  We need not be a mystic or visionary to experience our Lord’s physical presence!  
 
I am not meaning, in any measure, to diminish the significance of one of the greatest saints of the past century, but, these reflections stirred my heart to greater appreciation for the gift of Christ’s Eucharistic presence.
 
His wondrous, physical presence is only as far away as the nearest tabernacle!
 
In the meantime, before I visit Him next there, I remain grateful for His presence with us spiritually.
 
He is faithful to His promise: “…I am with you always, until the end of the age!”

As we celebrate the birthday of the Blessed Virgin today, I decided to share a poem I wrote as a postulant.

Ave Maria!
Hail our Mother and our Queen
Who, at present though not seen,
Watches and protects us here-
in times of peace and times of fear.
 
Please help us to be more like you
Who, in everything, was true.
Please help us trust and truly pray:
Let it be done me as you say.
 
Guide us, please, and help us obey
The words at Cana you did say.
Like those servants, please help us do
What ever He tells [us] to.
 
Show us, please, the way to go
And what we should do to know.
Please help our minds be lit, not dim
As we heed: Listen to Him.
 
Please help us have obedient hearts
And never let our feet depart
From the way which you did run
That will lead us to your Son.
 
Hail, my Mother and my Queen!
Though your loving hands unseen,
I know you have maternal care
For us your children everywhere.
Written January 9, 2006

A week and a half ago, I spent some time in the afternoon (after finishing my shift at the reception desk and attending resident care conferences) cutting up some bread. 
 
We had received a large donation of day-old Panera breads of all kinds: sour dough, cinnamon-sugar glazed, and more.  After advertising it to our staff (for them to help themselves) and taking some for our kitchen’s use, there was still quite a bit left.  Two viable options (besides just sticking it all in the freezer) arose for me.  Croutons and bread pudding could both be made out of leftover bread.  I ended up making some of each, using sour dough loafs for the former and cinnamon-sugar glazed bagels for the latter. 
 
Unfortunately, though, the project left a tender blister on the forefinger of my left hand.  (Yes; I am a lefty.)  Finally, I noticed this morning that it has really started to heal.  The now crusty area is actually shrinking a little.  It sure was sore for a while, though!
 
I think of this after hearing and reflecting upon the gospel reading this Sunday as well as a poem that was shared from a funeral of a Sister we know.  The poem was about “The Hands of a Sister.”  It chronicled some of the different types of work religious Sisters have traditionally done: forming and teaching little children, caring for the sick, etc. 
 
Some of the deeds described there were not ones that I am called to engage in.  Nonetheless, it made me think about my hands and what they do on a daily basis.  I pray they may always serve in a way pleasing to Our Lord.
 
I think this Sunday’s gospel (about the servants entrusted with varying amounts of money) fits with this reflection, also.  Like these servants, each of us will be called to give an account for how we used what was given to us, what our “hands” did with the gifts we received. 
 
I hope and pray that, like the first two servants, at the end of our lives, each of us will have a good return to show on God’s investment in us.
 
However, as I write this, I can’t help but think about St. Therese of Lisiuex’s reflection on empty hands: “In the evening of life I shall appear before you with empty hands, for I am not asking you, Lord, to count my works.” 
 
Her humble, trusting attitude is something for us to really think about and seek to emulate. 
 
While my hands are engaged in the humble work of cutting up old bread, washing out a resident’s support socks, or taking someone’s temperature, my eyes (inspired by the Little Flower) can be fixed in trust on Jesus.

Although he's not a patron of mine, or a saint of our Franciscan order, today's memorial of St. Peter Claver has resonated with me during my adult life. 
 
On this feast, which I also remember as the birthday of the sister of my best friend from childhood, my mind tends to go back to a visit I made with the St. Peter Claver Sisters, who had a house a little ways away from my home.  When I was first exploring religious life in my early twenties, I spent a day or two with them for a brief experience of life as a Sister.  I even volunteered a little for them afterward, helping with a writing project for their Echo magazine.  I pray for both these Sisters and the sister of my friend on this memorial.
 
In his homily today, Father mentioned the aid, physical and spiritual, that St. Peter gave to the African slaves as they arrived in Colombia.  I was reminded of the movie Roots, which I saw as a child or early teen.  It definitely made an impression on me; I can still remember seeing footage of captives in the terrible conditions of the slave ship, practically piled on top of each other.  It was only years later that I learned about the Saint who met these poor people and shared Christ’s love with them. 
 
St. Peter Claver’s example of charity is a reminder to me of the call to love those who the world might see as “the least of my brothers.”  This gospel call aligns with our mission to the elderly and disabled here at St. Anne’s.  Today, if I let it, can serve as an examination of conscience and an impetus to do better in my own life. 
 
An amazing fact about St. Peter Claver, also mentioned in today’s homily, is that he baptized about 300,000 people during his 40 years of service to the African captives.  According to my calculations, this means that about twenty people a day were brought into God’s family through his ministry!
 
St. Peter Claver, please pray for us!

This blog just moved here, but it started several years ago. 
To view older posts, please visit: https://ndfranciscans.weebly.com/blog
and https://ourfranciscanfiat.wordpress.com