Year of Faith... and so it begins

Image from Diocese of Down and Connor, Ireland.
Used with permission from the
Catholic Communication
Office of the Irish Bishops' Conference.
 

We are about to begin the Year of Faith.

For the Bosserts, it will probably be a year of great change. There is a very real possibility that we will be moving before the Year of Faith is over.

Not a move across town.

Not a move to a bigger house.

Not even a move to down-size.

A move away from family and friends and school and parish and everything that we know. A move out of state. A move out of the Midwest.

We don't know anything for certain yet. A fitting beginning for the Year of Faith.

We don't know if we will move. We don't know when we will move. We don't know where (exactly) we will move.

I don't know what I will do. Will I teach? Will I write? Will I speak? Will I go back to school? Will I be a stay-at-home mom?

Will I have too much time on my hands or will it be a lot like my life here. More to do than I can possibly get done - except by the grace of God.

Welcome to the Year of Faith. And so it begins...

I think women are good at this "not knowing" - it's kind of like being open to life. One little plus or minus sign means that everything is about to change.

I can do this faith thing. I don't give myself enough credit. It's all wrapped up in one word. Yes. May it be done unto me according to your word.

Spiritual pregnancy. Women get it intuitively.

I think I will throw myself into this Year of Faith. No holds barred. Yours, oh Lord, without reservation.

Yes, Blessed Mother, I'll do whatever He tells me to do.

Who knows what might happen - everything, anything -  from nothing, to a change of venue, to a change of purpose, to a change of heart.

Faith is exciting. Anything can happen when we decide to abandon everything to Divine Providence.

Welcome to the Year of Faith.

Buckle up.

You are about to give birth to Mystery.

Year of Faith... and so it begins

"I'm Such a Bad Catholic" - he said

About a year ago, I was returning from a speaking engagement in Oklahoma. A male flight attendant stood at the exit door along with the rest of the flight crew to thank each passenger for choosing American Airlines.

You know how it is, the chaos of so many people all trying to file into the center aisle and claim overhead baggage. I tried to make myself as small as I could. I shifted my carry on totebag to the front of my body and held it close. My purse was sandwiched between the bag and my body. My eyes were watching the feet of the person in front of me. Finally, I was almost to the open door. Almost home.

As I passed the flight crew, the male flight attendant commented on my bag.

"Women of Grace, what's that?"

I looked down at my bag and noticed that the logo was facing out for everyone to read. "Oh, it's a Catholic women's group." I kept inching my way past the young man.

He groaned. "Oh, I am such a bad Catholic!"

His words caught me by surprise. Immediately, I stopped trying to move forward. I looked at him, square in the eyes. I read no disdain there. Just honesty. Right in front of his colleagues, he had admitted that he was not living a rightly-ordered life. He could have kept quiet. He could have said something with a note of sarcasm.

Instead, he spoke with sincerity and contrition. And I had to wonder if my logo had been a kind of message to him. Yes, God is still calling you back. Come on home, son.

I smiled, the best smile I could muster. "Well, you know the remedy for that." And I silently prayed, Sweet Blessed Mother, shower him with graces. Let him know I really care about him

"I do." He smiled back at me, then. "I need to find a good priest, one who's gentle."

"Oh, St. Louis is my Archdiocese. There are many good priests here. And I haven't met one that isn't gentle. You can do it. You know what to do."

Every time I think of that young man, I whisper a prayer. I pray that God honors his honesty, his bravery - to speak of such things in front of his own co-workers. And I pray, if he hasn't yet set things right - that God will continue to use clueless women like me to send messages. Come home, son. Come on home.

"I'm Such a Bad Catholic" - he said