God's Woven Stitches

I don't feel that it is ironic that the same month my dear, sweet nephew and God son was born in the month of the sacred heart of Jesus. Praying the litany to this devotion tonight was so beautiful. Reflecting upon the goodness, sweetness, peacefulness and abyss of all virtues from His heart made me think of my newest nephew and God son's dear heart. It has already gone through its own trials, and pain and I know my dear sister and brother-in-law have experienced the same anguish, and deep suffering and are witnesses to it.

Jesus' heart has wounds, and in the sacred heart image it depicts these wounds with the crown of thorns- the same thorns which pierced his forehead and surrounded pain with bloodshed. His heart knows how to love because it has tasted the bitterness of sorrow, pain, and death.

When we are wounded exteriorly there is a pain, yet we can be healed through stitches or another form of healing and receive reassurance and solace in the suffering and hurt, and can see the physical wound and pain slowly leave. The wounds that are internal, and perhaps deeper take upon a different form, and one that isn't necessarily visible, or tangible. It's usually a more unique pain, and suffering that has its own timeline for relief, solace, and healing.

Stitches that go in one's knee or a relief from another outside wound has its own story to tell that can even sometimes leave a mark that's visible, and one that won't necessarily go away. However, the sorrow and suffering of an interior wound tells another story, and the healing process follows its own accord and journey.

My dear sister received stitches after her C-section to her sweet and beautiful son who was born on my birthday! I've only heard about the process and procedure and the journey of physical pain, soreness and the process of recovering and healing from this surgery. My mom underwent her 1st C-section with me and has told me a couple times how deathly afraid she was of the surgery, of the thought, and I manged to be born 3 weeks early in the early morning hours with a jaundice coloring. This dearest God son was born a little early also, and born in the middle of the morning. There was so much anticipation, preparation, excitement, joy, and waiting for this little one to finally come and make his appearance.

This sweet little one was born on my birthday, and I feel that birthdays are a time of renewal and another wonderful opportunity for new beginnings, a new year ahead, a new journey. God is continuing to stitch my story, write my story.

Every day has it's own stitches. And sometimes you feel like you dropped some and need to restitch and make up for the day before. It reminds me of knitting and with every stitch makes progress. Currently I am knitting a blanket for this sweet little one and I sincerely hope it can be a gift. If not to use right away, to remember, and to hold. It's a dark green and the color reminded me of the statue at the St. Raphael mission that I visited in December. He's a powerful saint and intercessor, and it's also the middle name of this precious and new little life.

Stitches are also a way of putting things back together, a form, and process of healing and recovery. Every time we go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, God is putting back the pieces to our heart, our soul and the gift of his most precious blood heals all our internal wounds, our sin, our weakness.

On my birthday, I wore the shoes that needed repairing. Though not stitches, it needed glue, to be put back together and to be useful again. I didn't wear them for too long- just at the end of the day and celebration, but it reminded me of a bigger message about being put back together again, healed, renewed. The cute wedged shoes just point to something greater, deeper, and more beautiful.

I couldn't help but remember a beautiful excerpt from Venerable Fulton J Sheen's interesting and insightful autobiography. And I will write it here.

I can remember when, after four months in the hospital, I began to recover; I was reading Mass on an altar constructed over the bed before a few priests and friends. I spontaneously gave a sermon, which I remember so well. I said that I was glad that I had open-heart surgery because when the Lord comes to take us all, He will look to see if we have any marks of the Cross upon ourselves. He will look at our hands to see of the are crucified from sacrificial giving; He will look at our feet to see if they have been thorn-bruised and nail-pierced searching for lost sheep; He will look at our heart to see if that has been opened to receive His Divine Heart. Oh what joy is mine just to have endured the minuscule imitation of His suffering on the Cross by having a wounded side. Maybe He will recognize me from that scar and receive me into His kingdom.

With today being the feast of Sts. Peter and Paul, may their examples continue to lead and inspire us. And may this new little son of God and precious life, the treasure of my sister and brother-in-law's hearts, and the spiritual abode of mine these past nine months be protected, guided by God, and may we continue to trust in His Heart and plan.

A New Appreciation

Today was the first daily Mass since March. It felt surreal, almost like walking into the past but with a shed of light on the future since no one wore face masks 3 plus months ago. The pastor was so welcoming and friendly, it was encouraging and uplifting. The lights were on in the church and it was inspiring. For many weeks on end this church had been dim or nearly dark, silent, yet peaceful and serene.

There were some really hard days and weeks for me these past 3 months, and the highlight of my day was driving to this church, and getting out of the house. It felt like the walls were caving in and I needed to do something about it. Taking a drive, seeing new scenery and reflecting on past memories along the roads was helpful, but the solitude and reassuring peace inside the church was what I really needed. To sit, kneel and be in the presence of our Lord.

I started to miss the busyness of my schedule, and the days when my mind was actively stimulated and distracted on the students and the world of school around me. I liked the openness of the schedule surrounding me but some days it felt like I would be drowning and it flooded the depths around me. The reassuring part was that I knew I wasn't the only one going through these challenging times, and I only wish things could be like they used to with libraries and cafes open, Masses starting up again and having family, friends and social events back to normal. I wouldn't mind the openness then, but God was teaching me and all of us a lesson in the process, and still is!

There is strength and grace in the waiting, unknown and mundane. When every day can feel the same or blend into one there's a challenge to make things light and fun. There's a challenge to get innovative and creative again and try to forget about all of the bigger questions. However, there has been so much growth in this waiting process, internal, spiritual, mental, emotional and letting go of what I want and how things should look. Letting go of thinking that we are in control of what should happen next in this whole process.

I'm looking forward to Masses returning to a new normal and living out our faith and spirituality in this beautiful and important way. March 15 was the last Mass I attended right before the shut down and shelter in place. It was a melancholic day, a reflective day. It was eerily the 'Ides of March' as Shakespeare says and it felt like the start of everything. I was emotional and sad that a wonderful priest was being transferred soon amidst all the unknown and changes ahead. He was a comforting presence, a spiritual Father and the comfort of it all was being taken from the rug beneath me and I missed his gentle, soft spoken yet strong leadership qualities.

It was the last time going to a Starbucks with my sweet sister and soaking up the unknown with a warm drink, Arabic notes and books stacked, and a notebook and a pen to write with. People in the cafe didn't know what to anticipate either and it felt like something was right around the corner, a blind corner that no one could see or fully anticipate but still trying to enjoy the moment. I wouldn't see my school, co workers or students again, hear their voices or talk with them, laugh with them or congratulate them. I wouldn't open the classroom up again to see all the various faces and brimming personalities about to bubble over, or hear their smart jokes or wise teenager ways. I didn't know I would miss it so much, and see all the growth it gave me then and now.

I remember a couple summers ago, my dear sister and I went to a daily Mass together, and she had an interesting point that I remembered today. She said to pretend like its your last Mass you will attend, dress well and be reverent, focused since you never know when it will be. I couldn't think of how relevant that was looking back. I feel like its a point for reflection to not take it for granted, and going back to that same church brought me back to remember to not take it for granted, and to be joyful, hopeful, and grateful; It's time to be, and the waiting is nearly over.

Rainy day, early April

Love these trees when they bloom!

A Sacred Freedom

Freedom. It's a word that I or others don't think about too often but one that has struck me most recently. A year ago around this time I left my former job. It was a toxic and unhealthy environment that burdened me with a large weight. Once I left with good terms and for the most part friendly faces sending good lucks and tight hugs, it all came crashing like a ton a bricks, the ones that I built on my shoulders for weeks and weeks, and finally could relax, enjoy the start of summer, the cool air to my breath while running and reflect on all that had happened. It felt so good to leave, to be alive that I couldn't fully express it in words.

We have all experienced our own share of trials, sufferings and limits to freedom during these 3 months of isolation from others, our favorite places and excursions, regular plans and even praying and worshiping in our own churches. With the regulated access to the sacraments there's been a greater appreciation for our faith and ways that we can still practice. But nonetheless, even if Masses slowly reopening with tight rules and regulations, it on't be perfect but its necessary. Even when our freedom due to this virus has limited in what we can do, I need to continue to remind myself it won't take away my faith and believe in God and His plans, and how I think about things in a positive light.

There's so much sacred in the month of June, as John Mayer says in one of his songs. It's nearly almost summer and with every passing bright, hot day and cool, lush, peaceful evening there's hope for something more. Not only with things to slowly return to a new normal, but trusting not in our ways and plans, but God's. Even if I don't feel like I have the full freedom to keep running and running in the dusk and beauty of a crisp evening, there's ways I can embrace this cross, small suffering and hold on to the freedom that Christ gives.

Today is the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. It's a beautiful and very special feast day, and it crept upon me almost without notice. I love that June is dedicated to His Sacred Heart, as it's my birthday month and the start of a lovely season, with many more beautiful months ahead! There is freedom, peace, joy, hope in His heart and in His graces, if we trust. It gives me that reassurance during these crazy times of pandemic, and busy, tiring yet joyful ones too with a toddler nephew here.

I'm looking towards St. Anthony of Padua whose feast day was last week, and is known for holding and being close to the Child Jesus, and also known for great miracles. May he help us with this little one and the joy, demands and love that my nephew needs from us during this time. Happy June, happy summer! With the heat of the days and cool mornings and evenings, and with a bigger heart to go around.

Gifts From the Spirit

Card from my sister, to ensure peace:)

With the feast of Pentecost comes other things that seem to relate well with all that's been going on for me. It's such a special and beautiful feast, to close out the Easter season and enter into Ordinary time. This Easter season has been such a different one, unlike any before with churches and Masses closed and this Paschal feast celebrated from home. And this upcoming Ordinary time will be anything but 'ordinary' with all the changes and unique experiences ahead.

As I was reflecting upon the feast of Pentecost, I couldn't help but think about the similarities, the ties that seemed to bond what this feast is about and what Mary and the apostles experienced on that blessed day, the birthday of our church. It was a day exuded with peace, unity and a deep trust in God's presence, the gift of the Holy Spirit. Upon Confirmation, we receive the special graces and gifts from the Holy Spirit to lead us, and guide us on our faith journey.

With the end of the Easter season comes also the end of the school year. And what a school year it has been!! I came back to my school workplace with an empty and vastly eerie feel to the silent and bare campus that was once before crowded, vibrant with noise, students and activity. I opened my classroom, locked doors they have been for weeks on end, and I was suddenly flooded with memories, memories of students, classwork, Math and English lessons, conversations and an abounding peace and enjoyment through it all.

The doors were also locked when Jesus came in and stood in their midst and brought them the gift of His peace, and their hearts were aflame with love, joy, trust and peace. On the feast of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit comes to set a fire to their hearts, their minds and a deep wisdom and understanding of this spirit; tongues of fire and a sense if unity with various languages spoken and coming together as one faith, one church.

Yesterday would also be the feast of the Visitation, when Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth who was pregnant with John the Baptist. This summer we will be taking care of my dear nephew, Santiago and with all of it will come generosity, service, sacrifice, love and joy. Mary experienced this too with the travels to see her cousin and extend herself. Elizabeth was touched by Mary's generosity but also the gift of Jesus in her womb.

With still a sense of uncertainty up ahead and a busy, fun, eventful summer here, I want to entrust these intentions, and thoughts to the peace and confidence of the Holy Spirit to guide, lead and pour out upon us the graces and gifts needed.