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Guides on the journey

Our Oblate group met this weekend for our monthly prayer and discussion group. One of the questions in our reflection guide was a quote by Esther de Waal (Spiritual writer, Benedictine and Celtic author and scholar) from her book, Living With Contradiction. The quotation referred to respecting our own solitude, revering our identity and recognizing the mystery each of us are, so that we can then recognize that in other people. The reflection question pertained to all the tools (art, music, nature, prayer, meditation, etc) and individuals that have helped us understand who we are and helped us find our direction in life.

One of our Oblates shared a lovely story how being baptized in her childhood, right before receiving her first Communion, gave her greater appreciation for the sacrament, her faith and the journey that she was beginning. It was touching, as we each shared how all of those “tools” helped us in the past and continue to nurture us today.

I left the gathering continuing to bring to mind all those individuals who at different times, and in different ways, have helped shape me as a Catholic, an Oblate, and a devoted follower of Jesus. I pondered how this Lent and Easter Season I have been growing deeper in my understanding of myself as a beloved daughter of God. It’s easy to say the words, listen to them, and read them on paper, but it’s a different story to begin to believe it at a deeper level, at a soul level. To really “know” it.

Eleven years ago today I was beginning a pilgrimage journey to Spain and Portugal. I recall fondly how my friend, and our spiritual director for the trip, shared love and concern for us, desiring that we each grow closer to God spiritually. as we journeyed physically through the beautiful sites we visited. Visiting the sites of favorite saints, such as St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross and St. James helped me connect on a deeper level with them because it was felt emotionally as well as physically by being in the places they walked, taught or are buried. Those guides, physical and spiritual, forever changed me.

These journeys we take in life, physical, emotional, and spiritual, shape us, for better or worse. I wonder how I might have altered the experience of different times in my life if I had recognized more fully the love that God has for me. How might life have been different if I had a better understanding of the depth of that love, respected myself in my actions because of who I belong to and was more amazed at the mystery of who God created me to be?

It’s easy to get caught up in, or distracted by, all of the events of the world around us. I spotted this in the disciples on the Road to Emmaus in today’s Gospel reading from Luke. Of course, they were surprised when it seemed that Jesus, who they weren’t recognizing at the moment, didn’t seem to be aware of all “the things that have taken place” in Jerusalem over the past three days. As they walked, he taught, guided and then opened their eyes to who he was and how everything in scripture pointed to the fulfillment of centuries of prophecies.

Isn’t it true that when we encounter a true teacher and guide on our journeys that our hearts burn in the same way as they did for the disciples listening to Jesus? Aren’t we stirred to the core when we hear the truth of who we are being called to be in life? Isn’t there a thrill of recognition when we see and hear more than we believed up until that moment? Hopefully we are moved beyond that current place we are in life and desire more, are changed to act in a different way, and desire to live life more aligned with this new way of thinking.

Spend a moment today and reflect on who one of those teachers might have been for you. How have you been transformed as a result of their guidance and care?

I hope and pray that I recognize those teachers presented to me along the way, that I listen and am transformed into being a better person as they guide and inform me. I pray this for you as well.

Wishing you abundant peace this week, Deena

Image: A garden and walkway in Santiago de Compostela, Spain.

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Reasons to hope

Yesterday morning my friend Kathy and I visited a couple of our favorite nurseries to look for a few of the plants that we enjoy in our gardens and pots each year. We are a bit early this year (or weather has us a bit behind here in IL) and, at one of the garden centers, there were not as many plants as we had hoped for but it was a lovely trip nonetheless. They have beautiful paths and gardens to wander, there were signs of life everywhere! Little straight shoots of hostas emerging from their winter rest, an awakening canopy of flowering ground covers, and budding branches on trees, and of course, spring blooms of bluebells, hyacinths and tulips! It’s a magical visit there every time but is a reason to hope as all new growth begins to come to life.

Because I was gone most of the day on Saturday I did not attend Prayer Vigil for Peace called for by Pope Leo XIV in the morning US time. I am immensely grateful for the coverage and that I had the ability to listen to, and pray with, the Vigil on YouTube on Saturday evening.

As a Catholic I believe in the inspiration and guidance of the Holy Spirit, enlightening the cardinals, in their selection of a new Pope. I still recall my delight and surprise last year to learn of our first US pope. Each and every day since then I pray in thanksgiving for the selection of Pope Leo. I can’t imagine a better choice for this time in history. He has, especially in recent weeks, been a voice of reason on the world stage, calling for diplomacy over weapons and force. Given his first words to each of us, last May from the balcony of St. Peter’s, were “Peace be with you all” we might have imagined this tone for his papacy.

I found his words yesterday, April 11, to be courageous and needed, given the current state of tensions in the Middle East and other war impacted areas of our world. But I also found them poetic, profound and emotionally stirring as I listened and then read them (you can read the full reflection here, or if reading on social media, click my blog for the link).

Prayer teaches us how to act. In prayer, our limited human possibilities are joined to the infinite possibilities of God.

True strength is shown in serving life.

We are an immense multitude that rejects war not only in word, but also in deed. Prayer calls us to leave behind whatever violence remains in our hearts and minds. Let us turn to a Kingdom of peace that is built up day by day — in our homes, schools, neighborhoods, and civil and religious communities. A Kingdom that counters polemics and resignation through friendship and a culture of encounter. Let us believe once again in love, moderation and good politics. We must form ourselves and get personally involved, each following our own calling. Everyone has a place in the mosaic of peace!

Brothers and sisters of every language, people and nation: we are one family that weeps, hopes and rises again.

Pope Leo’s words lifted my heart and gave me hope. His words don’t change the current state of the world but I pray that as our voices and prayers for peace rise and become stronger, we plant those seeds around us. We cannot lose hope that together our prayers and voices make a difference!

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, Jesus entered the upper room and said “Peace be with you.” May our voices and our lives share that same message to those we encounter.

Wishing you abundant hope and peace this week, Deena

Image: a cute frog statue in one of the emerging beds at Hornabaker Gardens, Princeton IL.

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We will rise again

Our Lenten observance is over, the days of the Lord’s Passion have drawn to a close and we celebrate the joy of the Risen Lord today. My heart is full and I celebrate this day with great gladness.

This Lenten Journey to the desert was a powerful one for me. I faced sadness, grief, and anger. I found the edge of my limits with certain things and was able to accept them. I stood at the cross and sat at the empty tomb of this world and what it offers us. But I found immense comfort in knowing that these things do not matter, they are not eternal.

During the Easter Proclamation, the Exsultet, at the Easter Vigil, the priest sings that Christ breaks the prison-bars of death and rises victorious from the underworld. That great and glorious victory gives us our hope today. No matter the state of our world, the moral failure of prioritizing conflict over diplomacy, war over peace, and the neglect of those in need, we have hope that it will not endure. The empty tomb gives us that confidence.

My Lenten studies helped me desire greater surrender. My journey with the Desert Fathers in A Different Kind of Fast helped me embrace “the call of the desert to let go, let go and let go some more”, knowing full well that it is a lifelong quest. As our pastor, Fr. Paul Carlson assured us in his profound homilies this Easter weekend, the worries and fears we have in life may not go away, but we can endure and move on with overflowing joy of Mary Magdalene and (“the other”) Mary as they encountered our Risen Lord and then carried that victorious message out to the world.

This morning I was reminded of a song by Peia Luzzi I heard several years ago, We Will Rise Again. I will share the link here but for those reading on social media, you will have to click the link to my blog to listen. It’s lovely. I have pasted a few verses below:

So many times I’ve looked out across the ocean, wondered what is it all for?  

So many times I’ve raised my hands to the sky, I’ve prayed for more.

(and that)  And we will rise again, we will rise again.  My people will rise again, We’ll rise.

I wish you abundant joy and peace on this glorious Easter Day, Deena

Image: A photo of prison bars taken during my pilgrimage to Venice, Italy

A heart burning with desire

Last week I saw the movie released about Blessed Carlo Acutis, the impact of technology on us, and how Carlo used technology, by creating a website on Eucharistic Miracles, to spread his message of the importance of the Eucharist. Carlo was a 15-year-old Italian teenager known for his devotion to the Eucharist. His canonization, as the first millennial saint, was postponed, from April 27, due to the death and funeral of Pope Francis. Besides being an amazing young man, he is also the new patron of the Catholic grade schools that will consolidate in my home town area in The Fall. I attended the movie with two friends, Kelly and Mark. Kelly and I are parish point people for the Eucharistic Revival, for which Carlo is a selected “intercessor”, so we enjoyed seeing the bonus video at the end with highlights from this past summer’s National Eucharistic Congress. As I watched it I felt my heart fill with the same emotions that I experienced during the events of the Congress in July of 2024.

But, I wondered where those feelings of excitement and passion for the Revival went? Did they leave me, were they lost forever? Did I just get busy and forget about the importance of the topics discussed during the keynote speeches and guided prayer? Did I let others things take their place?

Later in the week, I talked to my spiritual director about my experiences during Lent, Easter and the death of Pope Francis. I commented that life got so busy at the end of Lent, that I felt I rushed through those final sacred days of Triduum and Easter. While I felt Lent and Holy Week were deeply transformative this year, I lamented that I didn’t want the intensity of the penitential days to go away. I wanted to be transformed by them, to make sure the experiences carried on beyond the Easter season. I wanted a life that reflected my beliefs as I mused on how Pope Francis lived his life. He was a Jesuit during his priesthood and papacy, keenly aware of the teachings of St. Ignatius, shaped by the Spiritual Exercises and discernment. He was a Contemplative in Action, one of the ideals of Christian life and Jesuit spirituality. He lived what he believed.

I asked “who am I now that Lent is over?” How do I feel I am being called to live the grace of resurrected life beyond Easter?

It became clear as we talked that rather than viewing these feelings as regret over something that didn’t last, it was, in fact, an invitation by the Holy Spirit to go deeper, to enter the mystery and grace of life with the risen Christ more fully. The desire was welling up in such a way that the resistance to moving in that direction could easily feel like sorrow and discouragement. I prayed for the ability to see that truth more clearly as I discerned what I was being called to. Later that day, I reflected on the gospel story of the disciples on the Road to Emmaus (Easter Wednesday, Luke 24: 13-35).

In the gospel account, Jesus walks with some of his disciples, who are so focused on his death, they can’t recognize who is standing in their midst and what is happening as Jesus discusses all the prophecies of his ministry, death and resurrection.

My heart burned with desire to live life differently, so much that I almost missed the invitation to go deeper. I focused on what I thought I lost instead of the Spirit inviting me into a deeper union.

How often do we miss these occasions of grace? How often do our hearts burn to move closer to Christ and our mission in life? How often do we pray and focus on the change we desire that we miss a potential opportunity to look at a situation in a new way?

Would you be willing, this week, when things look like they aren’t going the way you would like them to, or you are wrestling with a deep desire for change, that you might pause and look for a threshold moment to live in deeper grace, faith and hope? What are you being called to embrace, what new perspective is waiting for your glance and awareness?

As always, I would love to hear from you, in a private message or in a comment, as you reflect on these invitations this week.

Wishing you abundant peace and hope, Deena

Photo: a fire burning at Stronghold Retreat Center this weekend.

A lost sheep

I woke up Friday morning from a dream and felt lost. In my dream the school children did a presentation in our church, before Mass, but moved the ambo, altar and tabernacle. As I was helping to remove their displays, a visiting priest came from the confessional. He didn’t know where everything was and I could’t find the items to help. How were we going to go on?

I woke with the realization of the heavy loss and sadness of this week. The loss of our shepherd, Pope Francis, is weighing heavily on my heart.

The week has been full of beautiful tributes and remembrances of Pope Francis’ writings and impact, so I won’t presume that I can say anything different, or more eloquently, than others have already. I have lived in a church and world guided by 7 different popes. Pope Pius XII was only pope two more years after my birth, but each of the other popes since Pope John XXIII have influenced me and my faith in various ways, but none as much as Pope Francis. He focused on themes such as joy, mercy and hope and lived a life that honored the dignity of all people. He asked us to hear the cry of the earth, our common home, and the cry of the poor and respond with love. He called us to evangelize with our lives and let our joyful way of living be the way we share the Gospel with those we encounter. His smile radiated love and compassion. These teachings, his spirituality and catecheses on other topics, were tenets that I resonated with, more than any other pope, therefore I feel the loss more deeply.

I watched the Requiem Mass live from the Vatican on Saturday morning and thought it was so fitting for the person he was and the way he lived. If things can be simple by the standards of the Vatican, and all the trappings of being Pope to a church of a reported 1.4 billion people, I think it was. I captured images so that I can recall the day, but as I watched the Mass and journey to his final resting place, I was especially moved by two images, that I felt represented the man that he was. There was something very poignant about the unadorned casket in St. Peter’s Square. Later, as the proceedings came to a close, I loved watching the white “Pope mobile” travel the city of Rome from the Vatican to Santa Maria Maggiore, where Pope Francis has been laid to rest. The Pope’s body moved through the streets of Rome among his people, close to the people, just as he preferred his pontificate to be.

I was fortunate enough to visit the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore during my 2023 pilgrimage and now that his tomb is open to the public as of today, Divine Mercy Sunday, I have a reason to want to return.

The picture that I used for this blog image was taken during our general audience with Pope Francis in St. Peter’s Square. I posted it on social media this week, and in 2023 during our visit, it’s my favorite picture from the pilgrimage and I am delighted I hadn’t used it in a blog post previously.

So now I turn my prayers to formidable task ahead for the College of Cardinals. I pray for the future of the Church and for the Holy Spirit to guide the cardinals to select someone with a pastoral spirit similar to Pope Francis and with a heart and mind capable of offering wisdom to leaders in the world today.

Wishing you abundant trust in God’s mercy, and a heart full of joy and hope, Deena

A pilgrim journey

Our Lenten journey has brought us to the glorious Feast of Easter, it is the Solemnity of all Solemnities, a joyful conclusion to our Lenten penances and the beginning of the Octave of Easter (Easter is eight days long!). I wish you and your loved ones a grace-filled Easter Season!

If you participated in the Triduum Services of the Lord’s Supper, Good Friday and Easter Vigil, there is so much to reflect on from the solemn liturgies we prayed with and today we celebrate the gift of God’s love in the Resurrection. A few thoughts came to mind as I reflected on my own journey through Lent.

Meditations written by Pope Francis for the Good Friday Way of the Cross in Rome’s Colosseum explained that the world we are faced with can be cold and calculating, that we become prisoners of ourselves when we focus on selfishness and indifference to those in need. Writing about and using the analogy of each of the Stations, Pope Francis explains our human journey and that only when we focus on the way of Christ, are we able to make sense in our lives, to bring about a restoration of joy and we feel as though we have come home.

Pope Francis’ meditation reminds me of the essence of a book I read during Lent, Jesus and the Jubilee; The Biblical Roots of the Year of God’s Favor by Dr. John Bergsma. It’s a deep and profound study of the history of the Jubilee Year in the Church and an invitation to reflect on this current Jubilee Year of Hope 2025, as a way of life, not a single, special event in the Church. He shares practical ways that we can bring the Spirit of Jubilee into our lives. We reflect on how we might make Jubilee a lifestyle and encounter the liberty that Jubilee offers us. If I approach the crosses of daily life with a heart of the Beatitudes and the “divine economy” of God, then we are able to experience the liberating grace of Jubilee.

I spent time on Holy Saturday reflecting on words written by Fr. James Martin, S.J. for America magazine on waiting. Fr. Martin wrote that most of our life is spent waiting. Our days waiting aren’t always “the unbearable pain of a Good Friday. Nor are they suffused with the unbelievable joy of an Easter.” Most days, Fr. Martin proposes, are “in between”. We wait for changes in circumstances, health, job, and relationships. I know I often think, “when this happens” (whatever “this” is), then I’ll be happier or find more peace, that my life will change or be better. But, our waiting becomes bearable when we change our approach to the outcome we desire and when we choose to wait with hope.

As I look back on this Lent, I’m a little sad it has ended. I have benefited from the extra prayers and practices. I have grown and changed in ways I hoped to, but desire so much more. That, I suppose, is our Easter pilgrimage, a journey that continues beyond this Lent and each day of our lives.

Wishing you abundant peace, Deena

Image: A fresco of the women encountering the angel at the tomb of Jesus, painted by Fra Angelico viewed in the Museo di San Marco in Florence, Italy.