Miserere Me – Psalm 51

miserere psalm 51

A mutual friend texted me the news, begging for prayers for the stricken family. I could barely choke out the words to tell my husband. My friend’s son, just 22 years old and loving father to two sweet babies, had died by suicide two hours earlier. I did the only thing I could think to do – I drove to the Adoration chapel.

I threw myself onto my knees and began to sob. For the next 45 minutes, I stormed Heaven, crying out for the salvation of his troubled soul and for comfort of his grieving mother. The agony etched on the Blessed Mother’s face in the statue of the Pieta haunted me, reminding me of my friend’s agony taking place in real time over 100 miles away. I prayed through the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary, my heart heavy with the sudden gravity of their meaning. I couldn’t see through my tears as I fumbled through my Missal, desperate to find the words of any prayer that expressed lament or sorrow or a plea for mercy.

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Two Thousand Eighteen: A Game Plan

2018 goals

 

It’s the last day of the year, and we wanted to make sure to end 2017 with Confession and Mass. Experiencing the cleansing mercy of absolution, closely followed by the reception of Our Lord in the Eucharist, was just what my soul needed on a day when the temperature outside is dropping like a rock and the hours of the year dwindle to a close. We went to one of the only parishes in Houston that offers Reconciliation on Sundays – Our Lady of Czestochowa on Blalock. Would you just look at this gorgeousness?

Our Lady of Czestochowa, Houston

Without further ado, here’s where my head’s at we venture in 2018, knowing full well that the Lord is the one in charge and there’s no telling where I will actually be 365 days from now. Continue reading

Not My Circus. Not My Monkeys.

A month or two ago, I came across a Facebook post from a former coworker of mine.  It was a meme of a little nugget of wisdom — “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.” — and underneath, she’d proudly proclaimed “my new motto!”  not my monkeys

After I giggled, I dismissed it as nonsense.  As Christians, aren’t everyone’s monkeys our monkeys?  Aren’t we our brother’s monkey’s keeper?  Or something?

It took me a few days to realize that God might be trying to speak to me, using my favorite animal as his mouthpiece. Continue reading