Showing posts with label offer it up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label offer it up. Show all posts

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Praying With Mary


There’s just nothing fun about a colonoscopy. Not. One. Thing.

This time, I had a sinus infection that peaked on the day I drank the tanker of Gatorade-Miralax mix.

I should be ultra-thankful for modern medicine that keeps me well – but when you’re in the middle of gagging down lemon-lime ackiness and running to the bathroom, it’s hard to drum up gratitude.

So, yesterday, I kept returning to my Catholic faith. Offer it up, Denise. Just offer it up.

It didn’t make me feel better, but it did make me feel useful.

Recently, I renewed my consecration to Jesus-through-Mary. I read 33 Days to Morning Glory, and I was struck by something that had escaped me in the five-plus years since I made my first consecration.

To be truly consecrated to the Blessed Mother, we must be willing to take her petitions as our own. I no longer have jurisdiction over my prayers.

That was a hard thing to accept. I thought I was all-in with this consecration thing. Suddenly, I realized I was not as far along as I had thought.

I have prayed a lot over the years.

But I always had my list of petitions, and that list of petitions was (usually) limited to my family members. They got all of my attention – and I liked it that way.

Now, I realized, Mary wanted me to take on her intentions. She wanted me to trust that she would know what to do with my family – that they wouldn’t be lost if I completely gave over control to Mary. Her mantle was big enough to cover every petition.

She simply wanted me to trust her. To care about what she cares about.

Now . . . I have prayed the Rosary many times. And from my first days as a new convert, I dedicated each decade to one of the other five members in my family. Things were about to change. I had to pray that Rosary with as much fervor as before – but now, it must be for Mary’s intentions. Could I do it? As a mom and grandma, that's a tall order. I want to pray for those who are closest to me.

I remember the first time I tried to pray for the things that Mary has in her Immaculate Heart, deliberately setting aside my family's needs. I was amazed by what happened next.

The beautiful thing happened – that thing that used to happen in those early days of conversion - that thing that doesn't happen quite as often any more – that contemplative communion that St. Teresa of Avila describes. Consolation upon consolation. Joy. Holiness. Rapture. I was in the presence of God.

And I heard God speak to my heart.

That day, a mom had a special prayer intention that she shared through social media. It was for her son.

I don’t know very much about the situation. I had no idea what to pray for – specifically.

Until, God spoke. The boy came to my mind, and I knew how to pray.

And it felt amazing – a true communion with the Saints – and especially with Mary. There was a boy who had some old hurts, and he was working through them. God was healing old hurts.

So, what does all of this have to do with a sinus headache and a colonoscopy? Well, there wasn’t any great contemplative prayer going on yesterday. I spent most of my time feeling awful – but I offered it up.

Last night, late, long after I had swallowed my last mouthful of lemon-lime mixer, I saw a post on Facebook. Another mother needed prayers. Her preemie was back in the hospital - fighting off an illness – and his life was hanging in the balance. I suspected that this was Mary's intention. And it became my intention as well. I offered the day for a baby I will never meet. For a mother I will never know. For Mary's intentions.

This morning, while the fog of outpatient anesthesia was wearing off, I clicked on Facebook and read that the little boy made it through the night. Thanks be to God.

I’m learning to take Mary’s petitions and make them my own. I am still learning.

But it is good and sweet and a very beautiful gift we have – and it is ours to give. Through Mary, I offer all my works, prayers, joys, and sufferings, all that this day may bring. For Jesus.

All for Jesus through Mary.

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Monday, May 11, 2009

"Offer It Up" - translate please. . .



We are a family of new Catholics, but we are beginning to learn the language and speak it more fluently.

Language, you may ask? What do I mean by the Catholic language?

I’m talking about strange words and phrases that Catholics understand but things which mean something different – or nothing at all – to non-Catholics and converts. For example, Grace means so much more than how we defined it as Protestants. Back then, it was almost the same thing as mercy.

Grace and mercy.

I wasn’t really sure how they were different from one another. And we used acrostics to help us understand Amazing Grace a little better.

God's Riches At Christ’s Expenses. (GRACE)

But grace is everywhere. It is in all things and all moments that lead us to Christ, keep us in Christ, and help us to grow in Christ.


But I think the Catholic phrase that has been uttered most in our house lately is “offer it up.” Now that is a uniquely Catholic phrase.

The other day, my husband asked me what it means. I tried to explain it. I sort of floundered for awhile. But I tried really hard. "It means that everything I do and everything I experience is offered back to Jesus Christ as a living sacrifice. We are sent into the world at the end of the Mass to become little priests (prophets and kings). The priest stands in the place of Jesus Christ (sacramentally) and offers up the sacrifice of the Mass. We go into the world and take the place of Our Lords’ hands and feet, offering all that we are and all that we do for the salvation of the world and the good of the Church."

It goes deeper. . . I offer up my disappointments and my hopes. My work. My moments in the garden and my moments in the shower. Those times I need a pain reliever for minor aches and those times I cry out in excruciating pain because I broke a bone or tore a ligament.

I offer it all.

Mopping the floor. Cleaning the carpet when the dog throws up. The agony of waiting for the phone to ring, when the one you need to hear from most of all just isn’t calling.

The disappointment when medical treatments fail.

I offer it all.

My husband says he still doesn’t understand it – but he likes the idea of it. And he’s trying to practice this new thing.

It’s like learning a foreign language for the two of us, but our daughter gets it in a way that we don’t. She is like the child who grows up speaking the language of the new world - fluently. For the transplants, it’s harder. In time, though, they get pretty good at it.

So, I’m offering it up.

At least, I’m trying.

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