Best Way to Bring Fallen Away Catholics Back

I attended the Archdiocese of St. Louis Evangelization Conference last Saturday. It was an inspiring day of talks and videos, panel discussions and round-table brainstorming.

My biggest take-away? The best way to share your faith is to share the joy of being Catholic. Do you love Mass? Do you hunger for quiet Adoration time? Do you get a little stronger and feel a little better when you dip your fingers in the holy water font?

Then tell someone.

When you share with others, don't just share the theology. Share the joy.

BUT,

Talk to God more about your friend (family member) than you talk to your friend (or family member) about God. In a word: pray.

And the best prayer (outside of the Holy Mass) is the Rosary.

Here's a challenge for you. Promise to pray the Rosary every day (or as often as you possibly can) for the conversion of someone you love. If you have multiple people to pray for, attach one person to every decade of the Rosary. For example, I have five other people in my family. Each one gets a decade.

I came into the Church in 2005. In 2006, my youngest child followed me into the Church. In 2008, my husband followed me into the Church. On Pentecost 2013, another daughter came into the Church. At Easter Vigil, my grandson was baptized in the Catholic Church. This summer, another grandson will be baptized.

Take the Rosary challenge. And see what happens.

And during the challenge, be sure to offer this person as a petition/intention when you receive Holy Communion. Make a deliberate offering as you walk forward to receive Christ. Spiritually, take that person in your heart and, when you take Jesus inside of you, talk to Him about this one you love. Feel the peace of Christ in this moment. Jesus will take up your burden and leave you with peace.

Do you have faith?

Then go to Jesus with your request.

Conversion is real. It is possible. And grace is made available to you through praying the Rosary and receiving the Blessed Sacrament.

Share the joy and pray, pray, pray.

Best Way to Bring Fallen Away Catholics Back

When a Little Brother Dies

He is only in 7^th grade, but he has witnessed the effects of original sin. In my first weeks as his teacher, I heard his story while eating lunch with other staff members.

Five years ago, Justin’s mother, Amy, was driving home after attending a fundraiser event sponsored by a St. Ignatius teacher. Amy had two of their three sons in the car. Two-year-old baby Carson and four-year-old Sam. Justin wasn’t in the car.

The accident took the life of Justin’s littlest brother, it caused significant brain damage to his mother, and it left a long scar on the right side of Sam’s face.

Every time there is a field trip and parents are asked to chaperone, Justin looks up and says, I can go, but – well, dad’s busy.

His father is busy. He’s busy raising two boys and caring for his wife. Amy struggles to speak, she cannot walk, and she labors to complete simple daily tasks.

Justin asks questions every now and then. They are the kind of questions any student might ask in a religion class. But behind the questions, there is a sincerity borne of experience; there remains a desire for answers and a willingness to receive them.

“Mrs. Bossert, what happens to us after we die? I mean – you know…” and then he groans loudly and runs the palm of his hand up his face and over the short hair on the top of his head.”

“Are you wondering what happens to the body or to the soul?” I ask.

He gathers himself together and tries again. “Well – I mean – there’s just nothing there. I’ve been to funerals and the person just lays there. It doesn’t do anything.” His gestures are big and the whole class is quiet.

I nod my head and pray for the necessary grace to respond well. I listen to my own words and critique them as they come out. Are they enough? Will the words falling off my tongue help him to heal a little more? Do I see peace and understanding registering on that perfect face?

When we come to the part in his religion book that talks about original sin, he asks more questions. Other students are learning a lesson on original sin and gathering information that they can put down on the next test. Justin is learning something more.

He is making sense of the senselessness in his life.

This is not God’s plan. He did not want us to know the very thing the serpent wanted us to know. He did not want us to understand good only when we contrast it against the terrors or tragedies or temptations of a world marred by original sin.

God wanted us to be in perfect relationship with Him and with one another.

The Fall placed the entire human race under the scourge of original sin. And God grieved.

God is the redeemer and healer. He restores what was lost through Adam’s sin.

Justin gets it. I can see that he does – because he nods his head as I speak. The others are listening and learning. Justin is healing.

Another teacher at the school teaches reading to Justin’s class. She asked the students to write one thing they would change about the world if they could.

Justin wrote that he wished there were no such things as car accidents.

I don’t understand why a two-year-old brother was killed. Why he would never enjoy a game of kickball like his brothers, Justin and Sam. Why he would never carry the football into the end zone on St. Francis Borgia’s field like Justin does every fall. Why he would never be able to bring birthday treats for the class like the other students who are in the grade Carson would have been in.

I don’t understand why Sam will always have a scar. Why he has to look at it every time he looks at a mirror. Why he has to be the youngest boy in the family when he was really the middle child.

 

I walk Sam and Justin across the road every day after school, and I watch as they race each other down the long lane that leads to their grandmother’s house. And I think of the little brother who will never run with them on this side of eternity. I think of Carson and know if I turn 90°, I will see the cemetery where that boy’s body rests.

This kind of tragedy was not God’s plan. But I have seen a family’s strength. A father who works hard to do-it-all. A grandmother who bakes “the best food in the world,” according to Justin. A mother who suffers well and still takes delight in her sons. A community that joined together to fund and build a handicapped-access home in the months that followed that accident. A school where teachers intensely love the two brothers that remain.

Original sin has dealt this world a terrible blow. We know how “good” good can be because we have seen how “evil” evil can be. God was right about the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. We were not made to eat of that poisonous fruit.

But the Tree of Life brings us the fruit that is the antidote.

What happens to a little brother who knew the Sacramental life even though he didn’t live long enough to learn his ABC’s? What happens to a toddler who has been washed of the stain of original sin and didn’t live long enough to have personal sin of his own?

That’s the good news, Justin. While his body rests in the cemetery beyond the schoolyard, he intercedes for you every minute of every day at the Throne of God! For you. For Mom. For Dad. For Sam. For us all.

The Tree of Life has the final Word. And Justin nods his head knowingly.

When a Little Brother Dies

Blessings on all Ministers of Holy Communion for the Sick

My daughter texted me this morning from her hospital room to say that someone visited her room and asked if she would like to receive the Eucharist.

Kari is a recent convert. She entered Mother Church on Pentecost Sunday a few weeks ago. Today was the first time she was going to miss Mass.

It is the first Sunday in which she would not receive the Eucharist.

And then, somebody knocked on her hospital door and said she had heard there was a Catholic mom in room 5547.

There was a time I didn't know that Jesus was waiting for me down the street in the Tabernacle. Now, He comes to me - and He comes to my husband and daughters  - wherever we are.

This access to the Eucharist is universal. Where the Church is, there is Christ. Wherever the Church goes, so goes Christ.

Kari's hospital band says that she is Catholic - and the Church knows how to find her and bring Christ to her.

As long as we stay close to the Church, the Eucharist finds us.

In a hospital bed, in a nursing home, on the battle field, behind prison doors.

My daughter texted me to say that Jesus came to her today. She just gave birth to a son. You would think that would be enough joy for one weekend, but her text indicates that our joy is made complete when we have Christ truly with us.

Thank you to all who bring the Eucharist to those who are unable to come to Mass.

And praise be Jesus Christ who longs to find us - wherever we may be.

Blessings on all Ministers of Holy Communion for the Sick

Grandson Levi Michael Born Today

Our Fourth Grandchild, Levi Michael.
Born at 1:30 AM on Feast of Immaculate Heart of Mary, 2013
Thanks be to God!

Grandson Levi Michael Born Today

June Catholic by Grace Column

The Alpine Tower is a rite of passage. The name alone strikes fear in the hearts of student campers.

In 2012, I chaperoned 17 students on their Camp Lakewood adventure. The students stood at the base of the tower - and stared at the 50-foot vertical structure.

The most athletic boys had the greatest mental challenge. They silently assessed the tower from all angles. They categorized the ropes and swapped notes. Taking the easiest way up would look bad. They had images to uphold. But choosing the most difficult way up might mean not making it at all. That would be tragic.

The girls had their own fears.

One girl marched over to the base of the tower. Her older siblings had made it to the top in previous camping trips. And, by golly, she would too. Family honor was at stake. She scaled the structure quickly and easily.

Another girl stepped forward. This one approached the challenge as she does everything. She focused on the immediate six inches in front of her. She did not know if she was three feet off the ground or thirty feet off the ground. And that is how my frailest girl made it to the top. She didn’t see a tower; she merely saw one handhold after another.

Then there was the girl who begged to come down when her fingers could touch the highest platform. We shouted, “Just reach up and touch it. You are right there.” Another classmate started climbing on another rope and gave her a pep talk as he passed her on his way up. Finally, she threw a leg over the platform and hauled her body up.

There was still one more student. She was from the neighboring school, and she was as petite as a second grader. She trembled as tears rolled down her face. She never looked at the teachers. She only saw The Tower. There was no getting out of this challenge. And she knew it.

The girl walked quietly to the tower and began climbing. And climbing. And climbing. She went deliberately. Silently. We weren't witnessing confidence, just pure determination. She made it all the way to the top, while some of our strongest students had stood on the lower platform and begged to come down.

I've thought a lot about those students and how they approached their challenge. The making of a climber is not so different from the making of a saint.

Some people who seem to have this whole faith-thing figured out tremble as they face the last, greatest fear. The shadow of death. There is humility in this moment.

For some, their entire family has set the standard, and it's almost as though they were made for this. They have been groomed to conquer this challenge. Like little Therese, whose parents and sisters were so holy that holiness was what one did, who one was, how one lived.

Still others are like the girl who moved from one handhold to another. The journey is do-able because the climb is never more than six inches higher. These are the ones who know how to give a yes to God. And another yes. And another yes. And then, it's done.

Some are like the girl who wanted to quit when the end was within sight - when they can touch the final landing and all it takes is one more heave upward. They, too, find the grace to make that final ascending move.

I think I’m like the smallest girl. The weakest. The youngest, spiritually speaking.

I'm the convert. I spend much of my life just trying to keep up with those who have longer spiritual strides.  I'm not a cradle Catholic with a family line that seems to fit me for this task. I'm not able to compartmentalize the journey, taking in only today. I look at the tasks before me and tremble. I've been known to mutter to myself I don't think I can do this.

Dear, little girl. If you can make it to the top, then I can too. It's time to reach for the rope and just move higher.

June Catholic by Grace Column

Best Thing I Ever Ate -- Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives -- and Receiving Holy Communion

Last night, my husband and I were watching Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives on the Food Network Channel.

It got us talking about our favorite meal in a restaurant. We couldn't come up with one contender - and we eat out a lot - too much.

That's when I realized something. My favorite meals have always been the ones I eat when I am incredibly hungry.

John agreed.

When we come to the table hungry, we experience the best meal.

The same is true with receiving Our Lord in the Eucharist. We come hungry for Jesus. Having set every other substitute aside, we come to receive the Meal we most desire.

Some may leave feeling ho-hum about Mass, but those who put aside all other contenders, those who have set their hearts and minds and bodies on Christ, are always filled. Always satisfied. Always renewed and strengthened.

The International House of Pancakes has a slogan. Come Hungry, Leave Happy.

Spiritually, that could be our slogan.

Come to Mass hungry to receive. Leave fulfilled and happy. Ready for almost anything.

Best Thing I Ever Ate -- Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives -- and Receiving Holy Communion

A Pat on the Back or a Kick in the Pants?

My mind goes to many things as I get ready in the morning. This morning, I thought about the man who asks Jesus what he has to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus tells him to follow the commandments. If you are reading this blog, you probably already try to do that. People who routinely break the commandments aren't likely to click on a blog that is called Catholic By Grace.

It's the next part of the story that is meant for you and me.

The man tells Jesus that he already follows the commandments. So he asks, "What else must I do?"

Do you have a spiritual companion in the journey? Do you have a spiritual director? If you have a go-to person in the faith, imagine asking him this question. The ultimate question we all have for our spiritual director is really the same one this man asked of Jesus.

What must I do to be holy (or what must I stop doing to be holy) because I want to inherit eternal life?

There really is no point in asking the question if we are unwilling to hear the answer. Our spiritual director could pat us on the back and say that we are doing great. Keep on keeping on, brother.

But if he knows us really well, if he knows us like Jesus knew this man, then he knows what is keeping us from becoming holy.

What happens next is important. It is probably the most important moment because it is the moment that plants your feet on the path to holiness or the path to selfishness.

Now is the time to be docile to the Holy Spirit.

Now is not the time for the word can't.

Now is the time for the phrase by the Power of the Holy Spirit, I can, and I want to.

Are you following the commandments?

You probably are.

But there is more to be done, and you probably already know it. Perhaps your spiritual director has already named it.

What happens next is important--probably the most important moment because it is the moment when you plant your feet on the path to holiness--or you keep on keeping on.

Let your spiritual director lead the way. If you have no intention of listening to him, then what's the point of having a spiritual director in the first place? It's almost as bad as not having one at all.

And if you don't have one, remember what St. Teresa of Avila said. The man who has himself for a spiritual director has a fool for a spiritual director.

A Pat on the Back or a Kick in the Pants?

I Have a Mother

(Previously published in the Archdiocese of St. Louis Laity and Family Life E-Newsletter May 2013.)

 

As a convert from evangelical Protestantism, it feels presumptuous to think I have great insight to share with life-long Catholics about the Blessed Virgin Mary. I grew up in a Protestant preacher’s home. We had two images of Mary. The first was a figurine that came with our Nativity set, the second a ceramic Madonna my sister painted in art class which she gave to my father for Christmas. When he opened it, Mom laughed and said it looked Catholic, but Dad kept it on his office shelf anyway. That was the last time anyone in my family did anything to highlight Mary’s place in the lives of believers – until I converted.

 

 Catholics have taught me many things about the Blessed Mother – things I never learned growing up Protestant. There is something beautiful about planting flowers in my Mary garden as I say a prayer.

 

 

 

 

There is a quiet strength to be gained when I pause to touch the image of Mary on my mantle… to light the candle at her feet… to entrust my cares to her.








There is an inexpressible joy, a balm that heals and peace within when I reach for my Miraculous Medal. Sometimes, I reach for it almost mindlessly, but that subconscious habit becomes a deliberate act of faith countless times each day.

 

In these moments, I know that Jesus Christ loves me so much that He shared His own hand-picked Mother with me. And He has chosen you – His Church – as the means by which I discover the Holy Mother of God. I remember these things each May. I ponder them at every May Crowning. I think of them when I reach for my rosary. I have a Mother because of Christ and His beautiful Church.

 

 

And so I say thank you even as I continue watching you – my brothers and sisters in the faith – that I might learn even more.

 

 

I Have a Mother

Field of Grace

There's something about a field of corn in late spring. It appeals to my love for order and rhythm in life.

Straight rows.

Rich soil that is freshly plowed and planted.

Tiny green plants full of promise.

Warm days. Rainy afternoons. Mild evenings.

And the promise of what the farmer will harvest sometime next fall.

This is God's world. The seasons and planting cycle are reminders of the order and rhythm of the liturgical calendar.

Lent.

Easter.

Ordinary Time.

We watch the colors, just as the seasons have their colors.

Purple.

White.

Green.

I am blessed to live in a rural area with distinct seasons. Every morning this time of year, I drive past fields and gardens. And I think about the God who has ordained the seasons of life to point to the seasons of grace. Dying. Tilling. Planting. Growing. Harvesting.

It's the Memorial of St.Isidore, patron saint of farmers.

He intercedes for all those families that depend upon the land, relying upon its order and rhythm. Is it any wonder that farmers, who live so close to the land and depend so completely on the elements of sun and rain, tend to live close to the God who ordered all things well?

St. Isidore, pray for all farmers who are the best stewards of this world that you have given to us. Teach us to have a spirit of gratitude for all that they do. Amen.

Field of Grace

Holy Spirit, Come, With Healing in Your Wings

I've been thinking about Pentecost Sunday and the Descent of the Holy Spirit. Jane Mellinger writes of Ives Congar: "he insisted that the role of the Spirit is to unify these diverse individuals and gifts into one ecclesial body."

I've been toying with this thought: Christian unity totally depends on the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

Do you ever feel like you are standing in front of a door, and you've expended a crazy amount of energy trying to get the door to open. Your intellect is spent trying to figure out what's wrong with the thing. Your energy is used up trying to turn the knob and push the door in and out.

And the really horrible thing of it is this. You are meant to get into that room. You have to get into that room.

The problem is, you've tried everything. So you sit down and cry. Or you stand there and just kick at the base of the door, over and over.

I pray for Christian unity. A lot. And this year, something clicked. I didn't come up with it. I figured it out while reading something by Ives Congar.

There is only one way that Christian unity will ever happen. By the Power of the Holy Spirit. So simple. The key was in the story of Pentecost. The whole thing is waiting for the new outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

The division that occurred at the Tower of Babel was reversed on that Pentecost day when everyone understood every language perfectly. Unity is a sign of the Holy Spirit's presence!

So the division in the Christian world will be reversed when we open our hearts and minds to the movement of the Holy Spirit.

I don't know about you, but I am ready for the number of Christian denominations to shrink not grow. Don't we have enough denominations? Do we really need more than 33,000 of them? I'm ready to see the whole fractured Christian community healed.

Talk about getting back to basics! Talk about finding our roots!

Let the Church arise. That one, holy, catholic and apostolic church. There's only one church that has all Four Marks.

 I have prayed the prayer Come Holy Spirit. I have prayed it many times. But I have always prayed it for myself.


Or for my students.


What if I began praying this prayer with one petition in my heart? What if I waited on the Holy Spirit, as those first disciples did? Come to us. Create and renew us. Make us one!

Ives Congar, I don't know you very well, but perhaps you would pray with me.
Blessed John Paul II, please pray as well.

 And all who truly wish to see the Body of Christ restored to full, visible unity, please pray.

Come, Holy Spirit.
Fill the hearts of the faithful.
Enkindle in them the fire of Your love.
Send forth Your Spirit,
and we shall be created,
and You shall renew the face of the earth.

Holy Spirit, Come, With Healing in Your Wings

Sharing the Faith When You're Afraid of Public Speaking

We are called to witness.

Every baptized Christian must go out and share the Gospel message with others.

Yes, even those who are afraid of public speaking are called to give public witness to the joy that comes to all who live in Christ.

Before you dismiss the Great Commission, before you tell yourself that the mandate to give witness to the faith is only for those who like to stand up in public and hold a microphone, you need to know something.

We are all afraid of public speaking.

This morning, I was a lector. As I stepped up to the Ambo, I felt the familiar fear. It always comes. It has a voice. It tells me that I am going to lose my place or trip or get a frog in my throat that won't go away or have a clothing malfunction. I'll sit down in a few minutes and realize that the tag is sticking out of my shirt or I forgot to zip up my pants or my shirt is tucked in on one side and not the other or...

You get the idea.

I am afraid.

Every time I get up to speak, I bow before the Altar and I give it all to Jesus. My weakness. My horrible insecurities. My mind games. What I might do. What they might think. I give it all to Him.

He does wonders with our broken, little gifts.

I hesitated to admit that I have these fears, but then I changed my mind. Here's why:

If there is any chance that you have exempted yourself from sharing the Good News because you

don't feel comfortable speaking up in a crowd or talking about the faith to others, then you need to know that you are exactly like the ones who do it. The only difference is that you don't do it, and they do.

The fear is exactly the same.

You know that parable of the Talents? How the first two guys invested their gifts from God and turned a profit, but the third guy buried his gift (probably because he was afraid of what might happen if he put it out there and messed up the little transaction).

It's okay to be the guy who has the least-- if that is given back to God.

What isn't okay is hiding it because it is so small or so easily lost or so pitiful compared to the gift God has given to another guy.

So be a witness.

Let your knees wobble.

Let your words get all jumbled up.

Fumble for your glasses.

Trip on the first step.

But offer all of it to the Lamb Who Was Slain, the One who comes to us on that very Altar.

We are all a little insecure, but that must never eclipse the message.

Sharing the Faith When You're Afraid of Public Speaking

What's the Deal With Mary and the Month of May?

It is May.

That means Catholic schools and parishes will all be having May Crowning.

About two years after my conversion, the whole Mary-and-the-month-of-May thing hit my radar. So what's with the month of May and Mary? My friend explained that the Church has set aside the month of May to honor the Blessed Mother.

Hence, May Crowning ceremonies, where living rosaries are prayed and flowers presented to the Blessed Mother and a lovely floral crown is placed upon the head of Mary.

Try explaining that to your Protestant family & friends.

You do what?

We pray the rosary...

[You've already lost them and you haven't even gotten to the part about the crown.]

Have you ever read that book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? It's kind of like that.

If you mention May and the Blessed Mother, you have to mention May Crowning.
If you mention May Crowning, you have to explain how Mary is the Queen of Heaven & Earth.
If you mention that Mary is the Queen of Heaven & Earth, you have to talk about the Assumption.
If you talk about the Assumption, you have to explain that Mary was received into Heaven, body and soul, without suffering corruption.
If you make it through all of that, you have to explain that Jesus loved her and wouldn't the perfect Son want to do that for the Mother who bore Him and loved Him and was there at the beginning of His public ministry and stayed with Him even when He was crucified on Calvary.
If you explain that she is full of grace and lived out her calling perfectly, you have to talk about the Immaculate Conception.
If you talk about the Immaculate Conception, you are going to have to talk about the Ark of the Covenant and how no man could touch it and how it prefigured Mary and how she is the New Eve and why that's all scriptural and the Book of Revelations and the Women Clothed with the Sun and how she was like Hannah, and Ruth, and Queen Esther, and Judith.
And if you make it to Judith, you are going to have to explain why Judith is not in their Protestant Bibles--but they don't know what they are missing because it is an AWESOME book.
And if you make it past the Septuagint, you are going to have to explain why the Protestant Reformers rejected it.
If you mention the Protestant Reformation, you are going to have to talk about Indulgences and the Papacy and praying to the Saints and the Rosary.
And if you talk about the Rosary, you are going to have to talk about why the prayers come right out of the Bible and the Our Father was prayed by Jesus Himself and the Hail Mary is a combination of the words of Archangel Gabriel and Saint Elizabeth.
And if you manage to explain why we pray memorized prayers, you will have to explain that we pray in many different ways and it all comes together in the Mass and the Mass fits into the Liturgical Calendar and the Liturgical Calendar takes us from Advent to Christmas to Ordinary Time to Lent to Easter to Pentecost to...
May.
To the Blessed Mother.

And... if you mention the month of May and the Blessed Mother, you'd better put on another pot of coffee because you are about to cover the same ground all over again.

Our Faith is organic. It all fits together. It cannot be reduced to one sound byte. It lives and breathes and has a complexity and beauty that is as mysterious and glorious as the Body of Christ.

And the month of May is connected to that living, breathing complexity.

It is May. And the best way to experience Mary's month is to become as a little child. Don't try to figure it all out at once and be able to take the test on it and ace it on your first try.

Just go cut some flowers and lay them at her feet.

Pick up you rosary and pray the Glorious Mysteries.

Or simply plan to learn the Hail Mary if you have never even tried to do that before.

Sometimes, the best way to discover Jesus is to let His mother lead you to Him, to show you the stable & manger, to let you catch a glimpse of Him in the Temple when she finally found Him, to listen as she tells the apostles to do whatever Jesus says and then to watch as those same apostles fill the jars with water and pour out wine, to hold her trembling hand as she watches her Son die in agony before her eyes, to pray with her in the upper room, to stand with her when the Holy Spirit comes.

Sometimes, the best way to find Christ is to let yourself find Mary, the one who magnifies the Lord.

Embrace the simple elegance of it.

What's the Deal With Mary and the Month of May?

A Middle-Aged Man & His Happy Meal

It was such a weird assignment. But, then again, it was a college sociology class, so that may explain the weird factor.

Assignment: Deliberately do something counter to social mores, observe reactions of those around you, and write about it in your journal.

One student - a middle-aged man with a large beer belly - went to McDonalds and ordered a Happy Meal. He asked for a boy's toy and proceeded to sit directly in front of the counter and eat the meal himself.

Then, he played with the toy.

Another students entered an elevator and stood in front of the closed elevator doors - staring at the other people in the elevator rather than standing face-forward in silence like everyone over the age of five has learned to do.

I remember the assignment because it was SO uncomfortable. I like to fit in. I care what people are thinking about me. I feel this crazy compulsion to explain myself to perfect strangers even when I merely suspect that my actions might not make sense to them.

I don't like breaking social mores - ever.

I like to blend.

But the world has changed. Catholics cannot just blend in. We stand out because we stand up for Christ and His Church, and we hold to Church Teaching.

There was a time when that meant there wasn't very much difference between Catholics and the rest of the grown-ups in the United States.

Yeah, there was Mary and the Pope and no-meat Fridays, but in general, we could blend.

Today, people look at us like we are a grown-up who just purchased a Happy Meal and is entertained by the toy inside.

Today, people think we are as odd as the person in the elevator who faces away from the doors rather than staring at the closed doors in silence.

No college assignment required. We break social mores all of the time.

And it is kind of uncomfortable.

At a glance, our Catholic practices and beliefs don't make sense to the public.

But they do make sense. There is a Truth here that is so deep, so rich, so eternal that we must not sacrifice it to feel like one of the crowd.

The stakes are too high.

Now more than ever, we must be the salt of the Earth - even if the world has lost its taste for this kind of salt.

More than ever, we must be the light of the world - even if the world likes to dance and throw darts in the dark.

The world may like us to follow along blindly. But we cannot.

The Shepherd is calling us to follow after Him.

So, we stand and face the people in the elevator when we stand up for the unborn, for holy matrimony, for chastity, for beauty, for sacrificial living, for suffering-made-holy, for the immigrant-among-us, for the aged-and-infirm, for family meals and family values, for Mass attendance because Jesus IS waiting for us in the Eucharist. The crowds may say we are only playing with McDonaldland toys when we pick up our rosaries and light candles in the Adoration Chapel.

Get used to feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of the world...

...because the time has come.

For the time will come when people will not tolerate sound doctrine but, following their own desires and insatiable curiosity, will accumulate teachers and will stop listening to the truth and will be diverted to myths. But you, be self-possessed in all circumstances; put up with hardship; perform the work of an evangelist; fulfill your ministry.  For I am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. II Timothy 4:3-7

A Middle-Aged Man & His Happy Meal

Tulips for Secretaries & Grandsons

It is a simple truth.

Notice the Blessed Mother at the left? It is a reminder that
she is always present - when we choose life & joy.

When I choose to live in love, all the love I've ever shared comes back to me...washes over me, like a gentle rain. And I feel joy.

When I choose to live for me, especially at another's expense, all the selfish acts I've ever done come back to me... crash over me, like a tidal wave. And I feel anguish.

The joy brings life.

The anguish brings a living death.




The joy is immediate and lasting.

But so is the anguish.

I choose.

Choose you this day whom you will serve. (Joshua 24:15)

Today, I choose to live by love.

This morning, I went to my garden and cut some tulips for the school secretary. I handed the flowers to my daughter as she got out of the car. By now, she has passed the love on to the school secretary.







Two days ago, I cut a tulip for my grandson. When I dropped him off at home, I handed the flower to

him and reminded him that he could give it to his mommy.

It made him smile, and within minutes, it made his mom smile. I'm still smiling.

In the middle of these simple acts, I remembered something.

I rediscovered the joy of all the times in my life that I have chosen to give myself away.

And it was very good.

Tulips for Secretaries & Grandsons

Why Should I Connect With You on LinkedIn?

It was a great question.

I clicked on the email and thought... now that's a great question.

Yesterday, I sent out some invitations to connect through LinkedIn. One person wrote:

How can my accepting your invitation to Linked-in be of help to you?

 

Most people simply accept or ignore LinkedIn requests and leave it at that. I have two reasons for connecting with people on LinkedIn.

The first reason is that LinkedIn connected me with a group of faithful Catholics who were willing to pray for a very serious situation in my family last January. I wrote about this in THE ST. LOUIS REVIEW. God heard the prayers, and my newborn granddaughter survived a traumatic birth against all odds, without suffering any brain damage. Since then, I have had the privilege to pray for other LinkedIn contacts. So, the first reason has to do with interceding for one another.

The second reason is that I share my conversion story (and other topics) with parish groups, Confirmation classes, RCIA classes and high school religion students at no cost. Many people know that I write, but I also love to share the story of God's grace - at no cost if possible. The gentleman who wrote lived in the Archdiocese of St. Louis and worked in the area of education & evangelization, which meant that I might be able to provide that service at no charge for his students or parishioners. Sometimes, travel expenses are so great that I am not able to speak pro bono - but in my home diocese, I am in the position to give freely. In other dioceses, I am able to speak at cost (travel expenses).
 

 

Feel free to contact me at: denise.bossert@centurytel.net or to connect with me through LinkedIn.

 

Let's keep praying for one another. Let's keep sharing the Good News with one another. All for the greater glory of God.

You can find my bio and speaking topics at my blog: www.catholicbygrace.blogspot.com

Blessings!

Denise Bossert

Why Should I Connect With You on LinkedIn?

How can I forgive? How can I forget?

Never underestimate the gifts of the Holy Spirit in unmasking the things you need to jettison in your quest for holiness.

If we are willing to go deeper, He will help us to go deeper.

When I go to confession, my confessor poses a few questions to me:

Do you know God loves you? (That’s when my eyes usually fill up with tears. Seriously, I have just come clean about my worst self, and God shows up to assure me that He loves me. Who wouldn't tear up?)

Do you want to become holy? (I truly do, but I'm such mess.)

Are you willing to receive the help of the Holy Spirit? (Totally.)

And then I go back to my life. But the crazy thing of it is this. God begins showing up everywhere to take me closer and closer to the holy version of me - closer to the woman that He created me to be.

Recently, I uncovered a pitfall in this quest for holiness. I knew something was wrong with me. It’s not right to replay other people's offenses against you in your head. I was stuck in a pattern. Each time I remembered the offense, I would be hurt all over again and have to make another act of forgiveness. I couldn’t seem to forget.

My own memory was hijacking me.

It was hijacking my quest for holiness.

So, I needed some major help from the Gifts of the Holy Spirit. A little wisdom. Some understanding. Right judgment. Knowledge about what was happening and why it was happening and how to stop it from happening over and over.

It would be so much easier to get amnesia. Forgiveness is an act of the will. I did all that. But what can a person do with an active memory.

Every time I see that person … I remember.

To not remember – well, that’s not even possible.

And yet, it seemed necessary in order to get out of this spin cycle I had fallen into.

I don’t remember when I figured it out or why I figured it out. I just know that I did. Somehow, the Holy Spirit came through on that promise to lend some help to the penitent soul. And that’s when I realized…

… the problem is arrogance and pride.

The antidote is meekness and humility.

So, each time I remembered… I would have a chat with myself. Come on, Denise. Drop the arrogance. Blessed Mother, teach me to be more like you. Help me to learn how to be meek and humble of heart.

If I did that the very second in which my memory took me back to the offending moment—my hurt evaporated. Peace took its place.

Then, that truth was underscored in an unlikely place. I was scanning some boards on Pinterest. I

usually stop and read the text on pictures of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. And this time, it was pure gold. Forgiving requires love; forgetting requires humility.

That was it. That was the very thing I was discovering. I knew I loved the offender. I truly did. That’s why I was able to forgive again and again – every time the memory took me back. The thing I had trouble with was humility. Humility would enable me to let the memory go before it had a chance to take me back. Humility ended the spin cycle.

And the thing I was realizing was that I didn’t even have to have the strength to be humble. All I had to do was call in the troops for assistance in the effort.

Jesus, help me to be more like you right now.

Blessed Mother, throw your mantle over me and show me what meekness and humility look like.

Archangel Michael, defend me in this battle…

Unbelievable how much difference this all makes.

So, just when I thought I had gathered together all the bits and pieces the Holy Spirit wanted to show me, I got another lesson. Where? Today at Bible study.

When we fall into the trap of labeling other people solely in light of their sin, we see nothing else good in that person. Who wants to be defined by his or her worst moments? I certainly don’t. And it is a pretty awful existence to see others and immediately think of just one thing… that thing.

Suddenly, the windows of my mind opened, and I remembered the good in the very people that had offended me in the past.

I thought about all that the Holy Spirit had taught me…

And it was very, very good.

Do you know that God loves you?

Do you want to become holy?

Are you willing to accept the help of the Holy Spirit?

Answer yes to all three of those questions—and look out. God is about to do a new work in you.

How can I forgive? How can I forget?

A Prayer Request from Kim

Denise - you don't know me.  I just ran into your blog while listening to How Beautiful by Twila Paris.  A friend had sent me the link.  Then I ended up on your blog.  NOT I do no believe in accidents.  So I believe God led me to your blog and now i believe He is asking you to pray for me.   I had an abnormal mammogram on March 29th and then had another and an abnormal ultrasound on April 3rd.  Had a biopsy on April 9th and now have been diagnosed with cancer in both breasts.  I don't know any more as I see the dr. today but if you could pray for me that would be wonderful.  we have 3 beautiful boys.  Two of which we homeschool and the other went to a Catholic High School and is now at Maryville University in St. Louis.   My husband is a convert to the faith and I am a cradle Catholic.   Please pray for me and my family and get any prayer warriors to do the same. 
God bless you,

 

Kim

 

UPDATE: biopsy came back, and it is Stage One! Thanks be to God. Kim is so thankful! Please keep her in your prayers!

 

A Prayer Request from Kim

Confirmation Readiness and the Sailboat's Sail

It reminds me of a sailboat whose sail is curved, like the curve of a woman's belly when she is six or seven months pregnant.

It reminds me of a kite that has found enough wind to remain airborne but not quite enough wind to soar.

Both are waiting for the mighty gust - so that they can fulfill their destiny, their mission, their reason for being.

Our daughter will be Confirmed in just a few weeks. She is the sailboat. She is the kite.

At the evening meal on Sunday night, she talked about the previous night's sleepover at a friend's house. There were five girls total. Three that were not Catholic. And two that were Catholic (my daughter included).

The topic of abortion and gay marriage came up.

(Yes, the world's talking points are hitting our children.)

Our daughter was sad because she was the only one to defend Church teaching. Even the other Catholic girl affirmed gay marriage and abortion rights.

My daughter lowered her head. "I lost the debate." She took a bite of her quesadilla, but kept her eyes
lowered.

My husband and I asked her some questions and realized that she felt bad because she had not convinced anyone of the very things she holds dear. Even the strength of her defense was weakened because the Catholic girl said that she did not believe a Catholic has to accept everything the Church teaches...and if two people love each other... and if a young woman is pregnant and doesn't want to be pregnant...

So, as Dad and Mom, we listened and felt our daughter's frustration. But we were also very proud.

She was the little sailboat with the curved sail. She was the kite full of promise.

All she needs is the gusty wind of the Holy Spirit. She is ready to receive the Gifts of the Holy Spirit.

It is a beautiful thing to witness the spiritual readiness of one's child.

We affirmed her efforts. We told her she handled herself well. She hadn't become angry or arrogant. She hadn't backed away from Truth. She hadn't sat quietly while the others affirmed one another's opinions.

She stood in her Baptismal grace and did her best.

My husband told her that she had experienced a small portion of persecution for the Faith. And there is always a cross and a crown that come with that. He reminded her of the profession of faith every catechumen made just a few evenings ago at the Easter Vigil - what she will also affirm in a few weeks when she is Confirmed. I believe and profess all that the holy Catholic Church believes, teaches, and proclaims to be revealed by God. Yes, a Catholic must accept all that the Church teaches. That is our Catholic Faith. We revisit this very question every Easter Vigil.

Even so, we both said a silent prayer for this very special daughter. She will face moments like this many times. Her faith will be tested. And she will feel like she has failed all too often.

She will need wisdom and understanding. She will need right judgment and courage. She will need knowledge and reverence. She will need to sense the wonder and awe of the Holy Spirit.

Or the sail will deflate.

The kite will take a dive.

And, as her parents, as those who have been Confirmed and have full access to the Holy Spirit's gifts of wisdom and understanding, we recognized that the moment has come.

She is ready.

Confirmation Readiness and the Sailboat's Sail

The United Church of Mayberry

One of my daughters will be entering the Church on Pentecost Sunday.

First item on the "to do" list? Present the local parish with proof of her baptism.

Kari was baptized in 1987, just two months after her birth. My father was the pastor of the parish in rural Iowa where she was baptized. The United Church of Crawfordsville.

When I handed the RCIA instructor the necessary documentation of Kari's baptism, he read the name of the church and looked at me with confusion. It was obvious that he had never heard of that denomination.

I explained to him that Crawfordsville had once had two churches: a Methodist and a Presbyterian. The churches decided to merge at a time when both of them were losing members. Many people were leaving the state of Iowa at that time. Farmers were losing their farms. Young adults were finding jobs in other states. The overall population of Iowa was declining, and the two churches were left with one choice.

Merge or die out completely.

They merged.

The two denominations agreed to toggle back and forth between pastoral candidates. They would have one Methodist pastor. When he left, they would have a Presbyterian pastor.

The merge worked. The laity wasn't concerned about the differences in their denominations. The pastors didn't highlight the theological differences. They didn't even set up worship in either one of the old churches.

They had a new building.

The RCIA instructor didn't need to hear more. All he had really needed to know was whether or not Kari had a valid baptism. He didn't know anything about the United Church of Crawfordsville or how they celebrated the Sacrament of Baptism, but he did know about Methodists and Presbyterians. Both of those baptisms would be valid.

But he was intrigued by the small scale show of unity. He also found a little humor in it.

I had never thought about the name - or how silly it sounded. United Church of Crawfordsville. It
was something like United Church of Mayberry. There was a kind of unity, to be sure, but hardly the universal unity that Jesus desired when He prayed on the night of the Last Supper (John 17).

These two little churches agreed to avoid their differences. They agreed that the theological differences didn't matter, although their respective denominations obviously disagreed since the larger denominations had never merged.

On a small scale, these two congregations were attempting what the larger denominations couldn't seem to pull off.

By the time my father became the pastor, most people couldn't even remember if their families had been United Methodist or Presbyterian prior to the merge.

Even so, if unity is important... If unity has merit... If unity is preferred... Why settle for a unity of two small parishes in one tiny Iowa town?

The name United Church of Crawfordsville, Iowa points to the greater need for Christian unity even as it reveals a degree of absurdity.

Toggling back and forth between pastors of two denominations...

Well, that's an interesting way to institute unity--but it is not enough.

That little parish may be an icon of unity in that little town, but to those who do not live there - to those who live anywhere else - it has no meaning. Like the RCIA instructor who looked at the documents and read the parish name... nobody else can appreciate their small step toward unity.

And then there is the Catholic Church.

The name Catholic means universal.

Now we're talking unity.

She has one deposit of faith, and She is global.

True unity.

Her priests are all on the same page... studying the same theology... receiving the same Sacrament of Holy Orders...reading the same Divine Office...upholding the same Faith.

No toggles required.

And the laity is united. There are no topics we refuse to talk about fearing they will reveal that we are not really as united as we like to think we are.

This unity is real.

My father loved the little church in Crawfordsville, Iowa. It was making progress in unity in ways that the denominations at large couldn't seem to pull off.

But I have discovered something even better.

We are Catholic.

We are John 17 in living color.

The United Church of Mayberry

Dreams & Rosaries

A couple of nights ago, I had a dream. It seemed full of meaning... even if it was only my subconscious mind having some fun with spiritual realities.

There were two babies in the dream. They had both been born many years ago and died shortly after that. Even so, their bodies were completely intact.

I was filled with a great desire to see their lives restored, and I thought to myself, if only they would eat... then they would live again.

Unable to feed them from my own body (keep in mind that I am past the season of childbearing and nursing), I looked down at my hands and saw my white pearl rosary.

Some of the beads were swollen - full of something. I knew immediately that they contained the nourishment these little babies needed.

I took the swollen beads and touched their mouths. They began sucking on the white beads, which broke open and began filling the little mouths with a nourishment that was beyond earthly sustenance. The babies revived.

It was a beautiful dream.

And I keep replaying it in my mind.

I think of it each day as I pray the rosary.

Isn't it possible that there is some spiritual truth here. It is completely consistent with our Faith to believe that we can do far more by offering a rosary for lost souls than anything we might strive to do with human effort alone.

I think especially of those who have been baptized... but fell away.

Metaphorically speaking, they are like the babies who were born, but died or lost consciousness from lack of nourishment shortly after birth.

We try everything we can to bring them back to the Faith. Our efforts seem pointless, as pointless as a middle-aged woman who wants to nurse a dead baby back to life.

But...

Go ahead. Walk over to your rosary and pick it up. Look at it. Spiritually attach your lost one to a certain bead... a decade... the entire rosary.

And then, get on your knees.

I do not believe this is a random dream. I believe this dream reveals what we already know as people of faith.

There is more power in one rosary prayed with great faith than contained in all of the tears and words and books and letters and DVDs we insert into their lives to try to bring them back.

I'm praying my rosary with more fervor than ever.

Each white bead - each Hail Mary & every Our Father - yields life-giving graces.

And in that dream, the babies began to suck, and their eyes were opened.

Dreams & Rosaries