Shepherds Field - Sheep Fold - Bethlehem November 2014 |
O my God, Thou knowest I have never desired but to love Thee alone. I seek no other glory. Thy Love has gone before me from my childhood, it has grown with my growth, and now it is an abyss the depths of which I cannot fathom. -St. Therese
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Advent, the Road to Bethlehem
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Reforming Our Attitude About Reformation Day
Reforming Our Attitude About Reformation Day
Monday, September 22, 2014
Interested in Making a Pilgrimage to the Holy Land? Here's Your Chance!
As many of you know, I will be traveling to the Holy Land November 7-17, and we have a few openings. Yes, I would love to take you with me!
If you are interested, send me a Facebook message or email me. I will send you the flyer/itinerary. Ten days. Everything from Nazareth to Ein Kerem. From Jerusalem to Bethlehem. Mount Carmel to Mount Tabor.
It. Will. Change. You. Forever.
Interested in Making a Pilgrimage to the Holy Land? Here's Your Chance!
Friday, September 19, 2014
How I became a Travel Writer at Fifty
She indulged the wanderlust when she accepted a teaching position at an American boarding school in England. She wrote home about Piccadilly Circus and Paddington Station. She scouted out London and planned my parents' dream vacation to England. She welcomed them when they landed, took them places.
I visited once, but by then my sister was back in the States for a few short years. David Clark and I had implemented a European travel program at the school where he taught social studies and I taught Spanish. I spent that Thanksgiving in London (though it seems like something completely different when you are in a country that doesn’t do Pilgrims and turkeys and Thanksgiving). Instead, I saw Poets Corner and Hampton Court Palace. I shopped at Harrods and stayed at the King Henry 8th Hotel.
And then I returned home to my three littlies. I had helped to get the student European travel program off the ground at Beckman High School, but before their first trip, I resigned my position and followed my first husband on a cross-country move. That was the extent of my travel. Where he went, I went. Many students and teachers enjoyed the program in the years that followed, but I focused on other things.
I thought the door to international travel was closed for me. One little dip. A few souvenirs. A memory of landing at Heathrow on the very day Margaret Thatcher resigned. But at least the students would enjoy international travel. At least I had gotten that program off the ground (along with David--what a pair we were).
My sister backpacked across Europe. Then she took a job as a manager of a science roadshow in New Zealand. My parents made another trip to see what their oldest was doing while their middle child wrote articles, taught students, raised babies, and completed degrees.
Who had time for international travel?
And then the balance shifted. My sister adopted two daughters from China (and had her passport stamped two more times), and then she settled in to do what I had done. Raise babies. She completed a doctorate, and I said no, graduate school is enough for me. She taught middle school, and then she went on to teach math and science education at the college level.
She is 51. I am 50. And now, I am the traveler.
My degrees in English opened the door for writing. The writing opened the door to syndication. The syndication led to a book contract. And all of it paved the way for my first visit to the Holy Land with the Israel Ministry of Tourism.
That's all it took. I had caught my sister's travel bug. The timing was right - and I was ready. I wanted more.
I wanted to see everything, to hold plane tickets in my hand and see new destinations listed on each ticket. I wanted a reason to have a passport and keep renewing it. I wanted to return from other countries and crave what I ate there so badly that I searched Pinterest for exotic recipes and put new things on my grocery list. Tahini. Za'atar. Babaganoush. Quinoa. Couscous.
I wanted to be the family member who gave interesting gifts at Christmas.
I wanted to prove to myself that fifty is an ideal age for wanderlust.
And I have.
Dreams have a way of coming true far more often at fifty than they do at twenty or thirty. Education
and experience and everyday life isn't aimless. It goes somewhere. It leads to more work, to beautiful grandchildren, to opportunities you never expected to have.
Life is a journey.
God leads.
And now is the time to see more of His grand world. To take it into my heart. The culture. The vistas.
The people.
A hymn by a Methodist preacher keeps going through my head these days. "This is my Father's world and to my listening ears all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres. This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.
And as I hum the tune to myself, I make plans - to see as much of that world as I can.
________________________________________
“This Is My Father's World” The United Methodist Hymnal. Text: Maltbie D. Babcock. Music: Trad. English melody; adapt. by Franklin L. Sheppard.
This is my Father's world, and to my listening ears all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres. This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise; the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker's praise. This is my Father's world: he shines in all that's fair; in the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me everywhere.
This is my Father's world. O let me ne'er forget that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father's world: why should my heart be sad? The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! God reigns; let the earth be glad!
How I became a Travel Writer at Fifty
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Former Protestant Makes a Case for Pilgrimages
Dad was the pastor of the small Presbyterian church where Leo and his wife Zoan worshipped. We cut our vacation short and returned home to the rural community where we lived so that dad could be with Leo and the family.
After weeks of recovery, Leo was finally released from the hospital and returned home. I remember
the day I was riding my bike down the street that passed in front of our house (the manse) and the Presbyterian church less than a block away. I noticed Leo and Zoan as they walked inside the church. It was the middle of the week, so it was odd that someone was going to church. We didn't have around the clock adoration time like many Catholic parishes do. So the only time people gathered at church was on Sunday mornings or for fellowship and scheduled events. If there was an event at church, we would have known it. We were the pastor's family, after all.
As I watched, Leo and his wife walked through the front doors and up the aisle, where they kneeled to pray. I felt warm inside. I knew what they were doing. They were thanking God for sparing Leo's life. It was a rare thing to see a Presbyterian doing something like that. They were usually "proper" and didn't do the overtly holy things I remembered from our years in the Wesleyan denomination (dad was a Wesleyan pastor before he became Presbyterian pastor). Wesleyans were always praying and hitting their knees in those Wesleyan churches.
As Protestants, we believed you could pray anywhere. One place was as good as the next. The church offered the whole community a place to pray, but praying on one's own could be done anywhere.
So why did Leo feel the need to hobble to the car in those first days following his release from the hospital and why did he slowly mount the front steps of the church when there was no easy access for one who was recently handicapped, and why did he walk with his wife to the front of the church and kneel when it must have been painful after all he'd been through?
It's simple, really.
Somewhere inside of us, Protestant and Catholic alike, we know that there are holy places - places set aside for our most fervent prayer time, places where we know God shows up and we can commune with Him.
Churches. Shrines. Grottos. Monasteries. The Holy Land. Lourdes. Fatima. Knock.
The cathedrals.
Marian gardens.
The bedside of a loved one who is dying.
A cemetery.
It is a Catholic concept - this going to a place because we anticipate God will meet us. Sure, Catholics believe they can pray anywhere.
But they also know that there are holy places where one meets God more substantially.
If there are unholy places - and there are - then there are holy places.
If one can expect the demons to dance in places where evil people do evil things, then we know there must be holy places where holy people do holy things.
In those moments when we long to come close to Christ, we know that it requires some kind of pilgrimage.
A journey.
A drive.
A flight.
It's like the Holy Spirit is sending us. Yes. It is a kind of divine sending and a divine visitation.
Pilgrimage. Perhaps it's a simple as driving to your church and kneeling before the Tabernacle. Perhaps it is as wonderful as planning a trip to France or Mexico or Rome or Israel.
Yes, we can bow our heads anywhere and encounter God, but somewhere inside, we all know that there is something holy about taking a journey with the expectation of encountering Christ when we reach that holy destination.
Former Protestant Makes a Case for Pilgrimages
Thursday, August 14, 2014
August 2014 Catholic by Grace Column
August 2014 Catholic by Grace Column
Sunday, July 27, 2014
July Catholic by Grace Column
July Catholic by Grace Column
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
ACTS Retreat Weekend
http://denisebossert.com/2014/06/30/grace-flows-from-wounds-such-as-these/ |
ACTS Retreat Weekend
Friday, June 20, 2014
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Picture of the Patriarch of Constantinople - Bartholomew I
Picture of the Patriarch of Constantinople - Bartholomew I
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
What's the Deal with Mary and the Month of May (and how do I explain that one to my Protestant friends and family?)
What's the Deal with Mary and the Month of May (and how do I explain that one to my Protestant friends and family?)
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Denise Bossert on the Son RIse Morning Show Tomorrow!
You can follow my travelogue at denisebossert.com and follow my journey on my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/denise.bossert.
Blessings!
Denise Bossert on the Son RIse Morning Show Tomorrow!
Monday, May 5, 2014
The Thing That Needs to Change in Almost Every Parish in the United States
- I don’t want to bother my priest before Mass because it’s just a venial sin, and he’s so busy right before Mass, and I would guess there are others far more sinful who need these few minutes more than I do.
- If I go to Confession right now, then my parents (wife, children, husband, friends) will know that I have mortal sin that I need to deal with before Communion. Who wants to open that can of worms.
- I’ll just go another time.
The Thing That Needs to Change in Almost Every Parish in the United States
Friday, April 25, 2014
The Absurdity of "Decluttering Catholicism"
Her counselor suggested that she attend the post-divorce class which is held in a non-denominational church in the area.
My friend doesn’t know if she will go back.
On the night of the first class, she walked down the hall and read the signs on the doors as she looked for the class on healing after divorce. The sign on one door said De-cluttering Catholicism.
It felt like someone had punched my friend in the stomach.
She felt the blow both physically and spiritually. And the one thought she had was how much she loves her faith – and how little they must understand about the faith she holds so dear.
She kept on walking and eventually found the class on divorce, but the blow against her faith and her Church stayed with her.
When she shared the story with me, I felt the anguish, too. Oh, Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are saying.
I do not want to de-clutter any part of this beautiful faith. It is a treasure. And nobody throws open the Kingdom’s treasure chests in order to toss out all that is beautiful and precious.
Nobody raids the coffers in order to cast the treasures aside.
How precious the intercession of saints.
How dear the gift of the Blessed Mother.
How sacred the Chrism, the bells, the incense that rises to the heavens.
How lovely the holy cards and statues and icons. Mosaics. Stained glass. Sculptures. Paintings. Paten.
Chalice. Ciborium.
How holy the Body of Our Lord. The Most Precious Blood.
How full of grace the Sacraments, the open door to the Confessional, the steps that lead down the
aisle to the Eucharistic Lord of Life.
How healing the touch of Christ through the hands of the priest, the anointing of the Bishop, the blessing that comes down to us through the Pope, through St. Peter and apostolic lineage.
How sweet the feel of smooth rosary beads, the voices of those beside me praying, the cares and intercessions lifted by each one kneeling.
What joy is found in the holy water font, the cool water touching the forehead, the smell of Chrism on a baby’s head.
What a treasure the family baptismal gown, a grandmother’s prayer book with its weathered pages.
What meaning comes with the flowing stream of the liturgical calendar, the readings each day and each hour, the colors, the altar, the Tabernacle and lit candle.
The Stations line the walls. The kneelers wait to be lowered. The book is opened and ready.
No. Do not de-clutter my precious faith.
Do not reduce it to something too small.
Do not suggest that it is better to have a faith that is summed up in five bullet points and one passage from Scripture.
I. Want. It. All.
I need it all.
I thirst for these streams of running water. It is life. It is strength. It is all a venue for grace.
One would never enter the King’s palace in order to de-clutter the rooms and toss out the treasures.
And so it is with the Faith.
It is a deposit worthy to be kept sacred. Worthy to be passed down to our children.
It is rich, so very rich, and the divine life infuses all of it.
No. You cannot purge the most holy, most beautiful, most precious of all that serves to bring us into the holy, the beautiful, the precious.
It is a treasure worthy of our treasuring.
The Absurdity of "Decluttering Catholicism"
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Sense of An Ending . . . and a beginning
“The ancient Greeks had two words for time: chronos, the tick-tock chronological time that we are more familiar with; and kairos, the right or opportune moment. We also know what these kairos moments are like: tired and dissatisfied with our lives, we’re waiting for someone to say that it is okay to change. For the fishermen on the shore, this was their kairos moment” (Martin 140).
All the talk of chronos and kairos reminded me of The Sense of an Ending - required reading for M.A. comps. Not that I wrote anything profound that awful, awful day. I received a B on my comprehensive exams though I had trended toward A’s throughout graduate school. I choose to blame my performance on the migraine that rendered the experience a nightmarish blur. No hyperbole. I began the day with a shot of Imitrex which worked no better than a couple of Tic Tacs.
I remember three writers from the long list of required reading. Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot. The Writing Life and Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. And Frank Kermode’s The Sense of an Ending.
I might have known that I was headed for a massive conversion –for I forgot most of the other things I read in the months of preparation for comps, but the things that remained and took up residency in my long term memory were Annie Dillard, T.S. Eliot and Frank Kermode. If you took Pilgrim, Writing Life, Four Quartets and Sense of an Ending and ground them up with a mortar and pestle, you might end up with words like Catholic and mystery and contemplative and writer.
It is where I was headed – though I, myself, had no idea.
But there is something about the notion of kairos. A time for each thing. A season. A changing over and rendering up. Dropping nets to follow. Or abandoning the now for the unexpected call. The sense of an ending. And of a beginning.
When you talk about such things, others stare. They don’t get it. Aren’t privy to the crook of God’s finger. The hook of the Shepherd’s staff. My walking papers. My mandate to go. To follow. To pick up a pen. Or a cross. Or both.
There is something beautiful-and painful-in accepting the call one receives in these kairos moments.
You try to get others to understand, but there is no way they truly can– not being in your skin.
Not having walked in your moccasins.
The most one can hope for is for one’s spiritual director to affirm the call.
It’s enough. A nod from him and a nod from grace– that’ll do.
Kairos. The changing time.
A blank page.
It’s not that anything is possible. It is only that His Will awaits. And somehow, you know it. You begin to perceive it.
The words on the blank page are written in invisible ink – the kind of ink that fills God’s pen. And your spirit is the secret decoder that unlocks the hidden script. You see the words.
And you get to say–
Ok. Let’s do it.
So be it. Amen.
You drop your nets and walk away from what was to embrace what is to come.
It is the moment you are ready for God’s plan for you.
Kairos.
Sense of An Ending . . . and a beginning
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Novena For Pope Francis' Trip to the Holy Land
Israel may be cut out of Pope Francis’ visit to the Holy Land
You can find the Novena to Our Lady, Undoer of Knots here.
The novena begins March 30th.
Novena For Pope Francis' Trip to the Holy Land
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Invisalign Braces and Free Will
Invisalign Braces and Free Will
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Catholic or catholic?
Catholic or catholic?
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Bossert To Travel to the Holy Land
Bossert To Travel to the Holy Land
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Check out Boomer Esiason Story
Cystic Fibrosis Foundation Link: http://www.cff.org/
Check out Boomer Esiason Story
Friday, January 24, 2014
Two Reminders
If you are on Facebook, you will want to stop by Denise's Facebook Page for the latest updates on her writing and speaking engagements. https://www.facebook.com/denise.bossert
Two Reminders
January 2014 Catholic by Grace Column
January 2014 Catholic by Grace Column