When I was a little girl, I was much more interested in reading, writing, and all things religious than I was in housekeeping or the culinary arts. However much my mother tried to impart to me the benefits of proper measuring and vacuuming-after- dusting, her efforts for the most part did little to arouse my interest or curiosity. But this in no way dampened her enthusiasm to engage me in the arcane sciences of domesticity. Read the rest…
Simon Matthew Benkovic
March 3, 1979 – March 20, 2004
Dear is the grave where son is laid,
Sad is the memory that never fades,
Sleep on, dear son, and take your rest;
God called you home, and He knows best.
And I will always love you, my son. Mom
Many years ago I was in San Antonio, Texas, to present a day of recollection for those engaged in parish ministry. I rose early that morning to spend time before the Blessed Sacrament reposed in the chapel of the retreat house where I was staying. Read the rest…
I went to Cconfession today. And once again, I was overcome by the gracious goodness of our God. It caused me to wonder why it is that we do not use this sacrament more frequently.
I do know numbers of dear souls who have made a pledge of sorts to go to the Sacrament of Penance at least once a month. And this is commendable — laudable, even. And I know other souls who frequent the Sacrament bi-weekly or even weekly. This is saintly.
It is said that Pope John Paul II went to confession every day. Imagine. Every day! He, like so many others who have been raised to the altar of Christ, discovered the treasury of grace that awaits us in the Sacrament even when grave sin is not present. Simply put, the Sacrament of Reconciliation is restorative. It is, after all, a sacrament of healing.
For myself this morning, I found it to be exactly that: restorative. And renewing, revitalizing. redeeming. The graces received in the quiet and solitude of confronting Our Lord with our weakness and frailties, our struggles and concerns, our discouragements and frustrations are boundless — like God’s own mercy of which they are replete.
Something about exposing the dark parts of our being to the rays of light that emanate from the Heart of Christ sets us free in new ways. It affects every part of us — our psyche, our emotions, our spiritual life to be sure, even our physiology — all are inundated with the healing love of God and, in that holy exchange of Heart-to-heart, new life comes.
I remember one of my teachers in grade school tell us that she often prayed that God would let her die right after receiving the Sacrament of Penance because she would go straight to Heaven. My little girl’s mind strove to plumb the depths of what this good and holy religious woman was imparting. She pointed to the sun shining on the snow outside of our classroom window so bright it was near blinding. “That”, she said, “is what a soul looks like when it has made a good confession.” I got it then. I understood. At least to some extent. Today, I understand more.
What is your burden this day? Is it a deep sin for which you need to receive forgiveness? Is it a weakness or tendency from which you wish to be set free? How about discouragement, hopelessness, or despair? There is a solution. Run — don’t walk — to the Sacrament! Be set free!
Today is our 25th Anniversary in Catholic communications. I can’t believe it! What a joy it has been to proclaim the Good News of Our Lord, Jesus Christ around the world! And what an absolute pleasure and privilege it has been for both Fr. Ed and I to work together in this apostolic work. We appreciate your love and support! Read the rest…
Not long ago, my daughter, Thea, was driving me to the airport. I was headed to EWTN to produce the next round of programs for Women of Grace. Strapped into the back seat was my almost 7 year old granddaughter, Julia.
“Mom,” said Julia. “It is so sad that Maggie and Elise aren’t friends anymore.”
“They’re not?” asked my daughter. “What happened?”
“Maggie said ‘duh’.” Julia replied somberly.
“She said, ‘duh’?” asked Thea.
“Yes,” said Julia, clearly with the sound of “duh” in her voice.
“Well,” said Thea. “You know Julia, there are two meanings for ‘duh.’ It all depends on your tone of voice. You can say ‘duh’ and it means you agree with someone. Or you can say ‘duh’ and it means the other person is stating the obvious — you know, saying what everyone else already knows.”
“I know that, Mommy. She said ‘duh’!” definition two.
“That’s too bad,” said my daughter.
“I know.” said Julia. “It’s really sad.”
Thea and I exchanged a knowing glance. Julia was “coming of age” in the world of social communication and beginning to realize that tone of voice matters. She was also beginning to see how fragile friendship can be – the power of one syllable can destroy it.
Tone of voice and tonal inflection communicate — often more directly than the actual words being spoken. Tone of voice can bring comfort and solace or hurt and misery. It can be an instrument that heals and bonds a friendship or a sword that slashes it to ribbons.
Tonal inflection is just the same – it can indicate solidarity or derision by the mere emphasis placed on one word over another.
Just as we ought to select our words carefully so that we properly communicate what we are expressing and are rightly understood, so too should we guard our tone of voice and tonal inflection to make sure of the same.
What we say matters. And how we say it matters, too. Both are creative forces that can bring joy and peace or sorrow and pain. What are your words saying today? Are they relationship builders or relationship busters?
My special family friend has taught elementary school for over 30 years, most of those years with five year old kindergarteners. Through the years, she has witnessed a changing demographic. Not only are her classes more culturally, ethnically, and religiously diverse, but the lifestyles and home lives of her children have experienced a demographic shift as well – not for the better.
Currently, my friend has 14 students in her class. Of the 14 only 2 do not have at least one parent incarcerated. Two of her students are half-sisters, but they don’t know it — Dad impregnated two women at the same time. He’s not been around for either of them. And this dear person has had to call social service agencies any number of times since September because of dangerous information her children have told her.
Lest you think she teaches in an inner-city school, think again. She teaches in a neighborhood school in a suburb of a rather smallish resort city.
One of the challenges this special teacher faces is that few if any of her students have any real concept of right or wrong, socially acceptable behavior, moral truth. They’ve witnessed in five years more than most adults see in a lifetime. Good example? Please. Their solution to problem-solving is to throw things, have a temper tantrum or defecate. They’ve done it all in her classroom.
But, my family friend runs a tight ship. These babies come in spouting four letter words that would curl your hair and leave her class at the end of the school year reading, writing, doing math, and –yep — practicing manners.
It’s a transformation really. And this caring woman digs deep to help it happen. She hugs these babies, rocks them in a rocking chair, tells them how precious they are, rewards them when they follow through, and corrects them (sternly) when they do wrong.
And — she has Jiminy Cricket.
In the public school system, she can’t really talk about her Faith. She can’t mention Jesus, His saving act, or the eternal realities. It’s tough to help form a good conscience when situational ethics and political correctness legally prevail.
But, she can teach them the natural law. And Walt Disney is her aide with his katydid-like insect, Jiminy Cricket. You may recall that Jiminy is Pinocchio’s alter-ego, his conscience. He shows up to inform the marionette of what he should and should not do. When Pinocchio listens to Jiminy, good things happen. And when he doesn’t — well, a heap of trouble follows.
My family friend tells her little ones the story and let’s them know they each have a “Jiminy Cricket”. She tells them their Jiminy is the little voice they hear inside that tells them right from wrong. With repetition, good effort, and reinforcement, they get it. They begin to heed the law God has written on their heart.
Eventually, she tells them Jiminy has another name. “Conscience”. And they need to pay attention to their Conscience. Though the challenges remain, progress begins to happen. And a school year closes with more success than failure.
The kids are boomerangs, though. They move on to first, second, third grade, but they keep coming back to my friend’s classroom. They come for a morning hug, a treat, to hear a kind word, to talk about a problem, to help her set up for the day. They sing out her name in the cafeteria, flock to her after school, blow kisses to her when they see her: all the return of her investment and their good “Jiminy.”
These kids were born with strikes against them. Who knows how their futures will pan out. It will take heroic effort and courage for many of them to make it out of their environments.
But, they have experienced a teacher who has loved them, taken the time to show it, and has given them something for the long haul in addition to reading and math: the foundation for a well-formed conscience. And with that, they have a chance to really grow sturdy and strong.
We need more people like her — and far more “Jiminys” as well.
Earlier this week I was in Houston visiting my daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. I attended my third annual Grandparents Day at my granddaughter’s school. It is a lovely affair that begins with a breakfast, followed by entertainment courtesy of the music department, and concluding with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Carmen and I look foward to it every year and it is becoming a sweet tradition we share.
One of the great blessings in my life is being a grandparent. These little ones teach me so much. Take Carmen, for example. She became a big sister on May 1 when her baby brother, Matthew Anthony, was born. I have seen so many beautiful qualities developing in her since that time. Virtues, really.
Carmen treats Matthew with patience, kindness, thoughtfulness. Much to his delight, she gleefully rushes to him when she sees him after school. She plays with him, dotes on him, and tells everyone she meets that he is her baby brother. Plain and simple, she loves him.
Frankly, I wondered how Carmen would handle his arrival. She had been an only child for five years and very accustomed to Mommy’s and Daddy’s full attention. I’ve witnessed other situations where older only children have not been very welcoming to a new sibling. But, Matthew’s birth has enriched her personhood and enhanced her lovely feminine graces.
Change can do that. It holds the possibility for us to expand as persons, grow in virtue, develop as individuals. Change can help us discover character strengths we never knew we had and bring to the surface latent talents and gifts. I suppose it really depends on attitude and openness of heart: an attitude of gratitude for that which God is entrusting to us, and an openness of heart to explore the opportunities the change may hold.
This has taught me a lot. And given me pause for reflection. Maybe you, too. To what extent do I embrace change with an attitude of gratitude and with openness of heart? I know one thing — I will be thinking of Carmen the next time a change comes my way.
Plurism entered my daughter’s car the other day as she drove my six year old granddaughter to school. After hearing some especially disheartening news on the radio, my daughter turned to Julia and said, “Julia, you are growing up in a very difficult world. Keep Jesus in front of you and stay the course.”
Julia chewed on these words for a moment and then she said, “Mommy, I know. __________ told me that she doesn’t believe in God. She told me her mommy told her God was a monkey.”
“Julia, that’s too bad, isn’t it? We know there is a God and He is no monkey!” responded my daughter.
“I know that!” Julia retorted. “He’s a Lamb!”
While this story shows us that Julia has given attention to the Agnus Dei we pray at Mass, and has obviouly given attention, too, to the stained glass window in our Church depicting the Lamb of God, none of this innoculates her against the winds of heresy that blow all too liberally in our culture today.
It also points out the false ideologies many of our children’s playmates and classmates are being taught in their homes. One can only wonder at the world they will experience in their adult years.
What are we to do? I think my daughter gives us good example. Make certain our children know the truth. Continue to use every opportunity to tell them the truth (Rom. 10:17). Reinforce that truth. Make them present to the truth by participation in the Faith. Exemplify the truth in your own life. Finally, but preeminently, entrust them to the One Who is the Truth – and the Way and the Life as well.
If we are willing to do so, deep roots will grow and truth will flourish in our children’s hearts. I know this to be true. Those words of advice my daughter gave to her daughter were the very words her father had given her throughout the 26 years of her life that he had lived. Apparently, they had sunk in and were being passed on to the next generation. As Proverbs reminds us, “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6).
A monkey. Really? Even a monkey would be shocked.
But this was no ordinary dinosaur.
This paper dinosaur stood on its own with the help of a special aid rigged by Gabriel himself. He had glued his green creature to the cardboard core of a roll of toilet paper to make his antediluvian reptile stand erect.
And Gabriel loved his dinosaur.
According to his father, Tom Sullivan, Gabriel carried his dinosaur with him everywhere. He placed it on the floor when he was playing. He sat it on the table when he was eating. He even perched it on the back of the couch to have it near while he watched his favorite show and he treated it to a trip to the restaurant when the family went out to dinner.
Dad Tom asked Gabriel what it was that so attracted him to his dinosaur. Gabriel simply responded, ” I made it.”
I loved Gabriel’s answer. It brought a smile to my face and joy to my heart. It made me think of God.
I am thinking if we asked our Heavenly Father why he keeps us in His gaze, His answer would be the same as Gabriel’s: “I made you,” He would say.
And then He would add “… and I love you; you are mine (Jer. 31:3).”