Handmaids of Mercy

July, Precious Blood and a Jubilee

The little church without a Saint's name

Way back in 1999, I started a Catholic apparel business with original handmade embroidered designs. I sold my fares at local parish craft shows all the rage in the 1990s. One of the craft shows that I attended was at a small little country parish called Precious Blood Catholic Church. I remember thinking to myself at the time that this was a rather odd name for a church, weren't Catholic churches usually named after saints? While I realized that the title must refer to the Precious Blood of Jesus, my understanding was at best shallow.

So, as the years progressed, our family grew from two children to four children and Jordan River Creations slowly ceased to exist as I became very involved in preparing our townhouse to be put on the market. Originally, we had planned to move to the county where my husband was employed, but it proved to be too expensive for our needs so he suggested going to a neighboring county....the same county where that little church with the unusual name was located. That was in 2002. We now have six children, two of which have been baptised , two of which have received First Communion and one of which has been confirmed at that beautiful little church in the now "not-so-country" country.

July and The Precious Blood of Christ

According to catholicculture.com, "Traditionally, each month of the liturgical year is dedicated to some mystery of the faith or special saint."  The month of July is dedicated to The Precious Blood. The fact that this information was sourced from Father John Hardon's Modern Catholic Dictionary, caught my eye. I enjoy Father Hardon's writings and was recently reading the transcript of a speech he gave on The Precious Blood. I had actually been trying to gain a deeper understanding of St. Paul's "circumcision of the heart" during June (dedicated to The Sacred Heart of Jesus) when I came across the following words of Father Hardon, which gave me a greater understanding of why St. Peter called the blood of Christ "Precious":

"Christ, listen, could not have died of some disease. Christ could not have died because of some mortal illness. All illness, disease, the natural debilitating of the body is the result of sin. Let me emphasize this. All our illness, our disease, our sickness, our wasting away of our body for all of us this is our faith - is the result of our sinful nature. Not so with Christ. That draining of the human body of His Blood was the one way that Christ, Sinless Son of God and Son of Mary that He was, the one way that He could die...."

I could see where someone might ask, "Is he saying that those that are ill or diseased are so because of some sin they committed?" As a mother of children with major health issues, I can say this is certainly not what Father Hardon is implying. We know from the book of Genesis that God created us to be with Him in paradise. He made Adam and Eve the garden keepers and gave them everything they needed to be happy with Him forever. But, they were not satisfied, they wanted more, they wanted to be like Gods. So, in their selfish quest, they chose what they desired over what God had planned for them. In their disobedience to God we find the "fall" of man. A fall away from perfection and eternal life with our Creator to the corruption of our bodies and death which is a result of the disobedience of mankind. We all now suffer, not even our poor little children are spared from suffering because death entered the world. Father Hardon goes on to speak about the fact that due to the original sin of Adam and Eve (disobedience to God) and all the sins accumulated after, we had to be "ransomed", literally "bought back". He says that "because an Infinite Being was offended by His creatures, only an Infinite Being could provide adequate ransom to redeem."

"Why does Peter (1 Peter 1:18-19) identify the Blood of the Lamb of God as "Precious"? it is the Blood of God who took on human nature in order to be able to suffer and to bleed, and let us add in order to bleed to death. Why Precious? Because it is the Blood of the living God." Father Hardon

A Golden Jubilee

Fifty years ago, a twenty-three year old young man from the sandy shores of the North Sea in Holland, was ordained to the priesthood on June 27, 1958 during the month of The Precious Blood. After surviving German occupation, this young man had hoped to be a missionary in China or the Phillipines, but instead was sent across the ocean to Catholic University in Washington, D.C. to study philosophy. He then went on to teach philosophy at Catholic University and later traveled for ten years as the Provincial of Missionhurst's 110 parishes throughout the United States. He never did make it to China or the Phillipines, but to our great fortune was given a new mission, as Pastor to a little church in the country, named Precious Blood. We know him affectionately as Father Leo, and all wait in anticipation to celebrate his Golden Jubilee at Precious Blood during the month of The Precious Blood, which I'm sure is by Divine Design.

Father Hardon tells of Father Gerald who in 1950, wrote an essay devoted to the special relationship between a priest and The Precious Blood. In this essay, Father Gerald states that priests share with all sinners in the debt of gratitude for Christ's sacrifice and the graces of personal holiness which come only from the Blood of Jesus. He goes on to say priests share in Mary's privilege of giving the Blood of Jesus to the world and that every time they administer the Holy Sacraments especially absolution, they share in the fruits of the Most Precious Blood. Father Hardon then adds, "When priests are ordained, we are told by the ordaining prelate, to be what we are called, to live up to what we offer, to become like the one Who ordains us, the High Priest Jesus Christ. A priest is ordained, not - dear Lord - not for himself but for others. He should spend himself."

The Precious Blood of my own children

This week John and I were given our greatest test of faith. Our beautiful, energetic, life-loving eleven-year-old daughter was diagnosed with bone cancer. This all comes after a difficult time which started with a diagnosis of auto-immune liver disease for our five-year-old daughter in December and a diagnosis of Type I Diabetes for our eight-year-old son in May. People have repeatedly asked me, "How are you surviving all this?"

The only way I can possibly survive all of this is to see it through the eyes of faith. God did not give my children these ailments, they come from elsewhere. These ailments come from a dark and sinister rejection of God, one that says there is no God because if there were, children would not suffer or die. They come from a place that says we must demand comfort for ourselves at all costs, we deserve it, and to be truly happy we must reject all suffering and chose self indulgence. It comes from a place where we don't make time for God because what we want to do takes precedence each day over the investment of time and energy spent in strengthening our faith. It comes from a place that separates our faith from our daily lives, Mon.-Sat. belongs solely to us, we will give God one hour on Sunday, if we aren't too distracted while we are there, or have something more inviting to do, but that is it. It comes from the one who first decided "I will not serve".

With this perspective in my mind, I can go forward one step at a time in faith. My God is an awesome God. He loved me so much that he allowed His very own son to offer His own life as my ransom. Jesus shed his Precious Blood for me, my husband and my children and for every soul ever created. And as I have watched three of my six children shed their blood in blood tests, IVs, glucose tests, insulin shots and biopsies, I've learned the preciousness of the blood of a child. God sent His son to suffer for us to redeem us, give us eternal life once again, but also to comfort us when we are facing suffering of our own. God also gave us men that have said, "I will serve, I will spend myself for others just as Christ did." I thank God today for Father Leo, and for placing us at Precious Blood. Yesterday, Father Leo served our family in a great way. He celebrated a mass for our daughter, Reagan and gave her the annointing of the sick. It means so much to me that this priest with such a special connection to the Precious Blood of Christ could adminster the sacraments to our family as we face the challenge of our lives.

In the words of Father Hardon,

Lord Jesus, You became Man in order by your Passion and Death and the draining of your Blood on the Cross, might prove to us how much You, our God, love us. Protect us, dear Jesus, from ever running away from the sight of blood. Strengthen our weak human wills so that we will not only not run away from the cross, but welcome every opportunity to shed our blood in spirit in union with your Precious Blood, so that, dying to ourselves in time we might live with You in Eternity. Amen

In the Name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Mary Kidd Flemming blogs for The Handmaids of Mercy , The Splendor of Truth and The Compass Rose (Parenting and Family Life Issues). You may also enjoy her husband's website: Crossroads Family Center

What's the meaning of "Hope Floats"?

Have you seen that movie, Hope Floats?

Some of you may have seen the movie entitled, "Hope Floats". For those of you who haven't, the short version goes something like this. A woman who "thinks" she is happy  is dumbfounded to find herself on a national talk show where she learns that her best friend has been having an affair with her husband.

In an instant of unanticipated angst, her world would forever change. How many of us have been in similar situations? I have to admit that I've been cruising along on auto-pilot for a while now, and suddenly I've felt like I've been broadsided by a Mac Truck delivering the liver disease and diabetes of two of my children. In an instant of unanticipated angst, like Birdee...my world has forever changed.

"Birdee" returns to her hometown to rediscover what is truly important after being devasted by her husband's infidelity. The following conversation between Birdee and her young daughter ties the phrase "hope floats" into the film: "Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome. That's what momma always says. She says that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will, too..."

Thank God for floaty suits, goggles and noodles!

I've had a challenging year as a Mom, and truthfully the winter and spring have beaten me down. I certainly haven't devoted much time to giving hope a chance to float up. I've not had the floating feeling much at all, in fact, I've felt like an anvil salesperson that has been forbidden to put down her wares! I've been going home like Birdie in my mind though, remembering my own childhood, and wishing for some of the simpleness of my summers spent outside from about 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. I've been wondering what my children will think about their own childhoods when they become adults. Will they remember a tired, cranky and taxed Mom? Will they spend the rest of their lives trying to overcome their childhood like Birdee, or will it be one of fond memories, and warm thoughts?

Speaking of warm thoughts, I just LOVE the summertime, for a number of reasons. The warmth and brightness, the sun-kissed freckled noses, the watermelon juiced t-shirts and the missing toothed girins of a six-year-old holding a wiggling, muddy worm over his unsuspecting sister's head. I also love having more time with my kids and husband. My children seem to love it as well, especially time in the pool, the river, the lake or the ocean with ...their Dad! Frankly, I'm just not as fun as Dad is in the water. Chalk it up to years of being the baby holder and toddler tamer. No, Mommy plays for a while and then she seems to just float around the pool like an old ship with the little ones attached to me like barnacles, and that is a wonderful, relaxing feeling. When you are in the water, floating peacefully, your troubles just seem to float away. As my muscles relax, I do as well, and I start to regain peace, tranquility and most importantly hope.

We spent most of Father's Day weekend in other people's pools. As I watched my children taking turns horse-playing in the water with their Dad, I watched him slowly become refreshed and renewed. This is an amazing feat, considering most of his time was spent hurling our eight year old son (who looks ten) in the air.  I'd look over and they'd be doing the Nestea Plunge or the Belly-Flop off the side of the pool. My husband spends the school year enveloped in his work, not because he is a self-absorbed workaholic, but because he is a wonderful and loving provider for our family and a compassionate, concerned counselor for his students and clients. He takes his occupation very seriously and works very hard to meet the needs of our large family and the families he is called to serve. He rarely finds time to just let go and have fun. These relaxing water adventures are truly priceless in regaining our balance.

How 'bout St. Paul y'all?

How do I get from the swimming pool to St. Paul? Well, I'm participating in a seminar through Catholic Distance University entitled, "The Letters of St. Paul". I'm really excited about this because Pope Benedict has designated June 2008- June 2009 as the year of St. Paul. I've always hoped to learn more about St. Paul as he was my Grandma Kidd's favorite apostle. I can still recall a lively debate between Grandma and my husband, whose favorite apostle is St. Peter. I'm partial to St. Luke because of his gospel being considered the gospel of mercy, but I'm looking forward to learning more about St. Paul. As it turns out, he is the perfect summer patron saint because he knows a lot about hope floating!

St. Paul often writes to the early Christians concerning their faith journey. Some of them had faced harsh persecutions, trials and suffering. Some of them became grievously concerned about their loved ones who had died awaiting Christ's return. I believe St. Paul was very concerned that their faith might waiver and they would "sink" in despair. He encourages them by referring to faith, hope and love as armor "putting on the breastplate of faith and love and the helmet that is hope for salvation" (1 Thessalonians 5:8). It is interesting to me that hope is portrayed as a helmet which would cover and protect our heads. Our heads contain our thoughts, thoughts that sometimes perplex and confuse us and beat us down. Yet, when covered with a helmet of hope we can put those often self-absorbing thoughts aside and allow the hope we have in the promises of Christ to protect us and ultimately allow us to serve others in our midst.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church states: "it (hope) keeps man from discouragement; it sustains him during times of abandonment; it opens up his heart in expectation of eternal beatitude. Buoyed up by hope, he is preserved from selfishness and led to the happiness that flows from charity." (CCC 1818) "Hope is the 'sure and steadfast anchor of the soul (from Hebrews)....that enters....where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf." (CCC 1820)

I really love the imagery of hope protecting us and keeping us afloat in times of trial, suffering, persecution and even separation by death from the ones we love. I just imagine myself, "buoyed up by hope' like a dingy...sometimes more dingy than others....with each ripple of water representing a new challenge, so that when the big rough waves hit me, I'm prepared with my anchor of hope, resting securely in the arms of Jesus. It is not an optimisim, but the hope that can only come from Our Lord. Our trials truly can open our hearts to the hope of being rescued from our trials, if we only give hope a chance to float up and "preserve" us in our faith. Hope, like any priceless life preserver, shares Birdie's sentiment that "it's the middle that counts the most" because when we place ourselves in the center of the life preserverof hope, we can be totally encircled by Christ's love, promises and mercy in times of trial.

 

Mary Kidd Flemming blogs for The Handmaids of Mercy , The Splendor of Truth and The Compass Rose (Parenting and Family Life Issues). You may also enjoy her husband's website: Crossroads Family Center

Mercy, not sacrifice?

Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice.

This past Sunday, the Gospel reading focused on Jesus eating dinner with the tax collector Matthew, some of his co-workers and sinners. (Matthew 9:10-13, NJB). ¹⁰ Now while he was at table in the house it happened that a number of tax collectors and sinners came to sit at the table with Jesus and his disciples. ¹¹ When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, 'Why does your master eat with tax collectors and sinners?' ¹² When he heard this he replied, 'It is not the healthy who need the doctor, but the sick. ¹³ Go and learn the meaning of the words: Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice. And indeed I came to call not the upright, but sinners." Really? I'm sure that I've heard or read these words before, I must have, but I couldn't recall doing either. I sat there in the pew going over them in my head. Does Jesus really desire mercy and not sacrifice?

I started reflecting on the word sacrifice and "offer it up" immediately popped into my head. I think the first time I ever heard that phrase was from the lips of Mother Angelica, founder of EWTN as she said that people had forgotten the value of offering up our sufferings to God. Those three words had a terrific impact on my attitude towards suffering and personal sacrifice because I finally could see some value in suffering other than sacrifice simply teaching us values for our own benefit. Surprisingly though, the words left me a bit anxious. It is not that I don't agree with the sentiment, I do, I think it is a beautiful thing to unite our sufferings to the cross by offering them back to God as a small sacrifice for the sanctification of someone else. My anxiousness comes from feeling unworthy of the mission to do so. 

The purpose of sacrifice.

You see, I tend to be a self-absorbed and selfish sufferer. For as long as I can remember, I've weathered the storms of pain, suffering and sacrifice internally, and as I internalized this pain, I've done major damage to my self and my family, as sooner or later, the pain turns into anger. Then the anger remains reserved simmering on a back burner, only to be unleashed like a bubbling, boiling cauldron of doom on my husband and children. It is extremely rare for me to let even one warm bubble escape from the pot of anquish before a friend, aquaintance or stranger. No, it is those closest to me that are always the ones to undeservedly pay the price for my suffering. I've heard anger described as fear turned inward, and I believe it to be true. It is embarassing to admit, but at times I have been overcome with the fear that God might not love me. What if he didn't love me because I fail him so often? What if all of this suffering was "just" and deserved punishment for my failings or my lack of trust? My head knows otherwise, but sometimes I struggle with my heart getting the message.

Father Raniero Cantalamessa, OFM Cap, known as the Pope's Preacher, recently commented on this past Sunday's gospel. He says, " The love that is spoken of is not that which God expects from man, but the love God has for man. 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice' means: I want to be merciful, not to condemn. Its biblical equivalent is found in Ezekiel: "I do not want the death of the sinner, but that he convert and live." God does not want to "sacrifice" his creature but to save him."  To me, this gives a fresh insight into this scripture passage and reinforces God's never-ending love for us in spite of ourselves, even when we doubt the enormity of His love. So, it seems to me that our sufferings/sacrifices are an avenue to bring us closer to God, to lean not on our own understanding but instead to be nudged to the point of wearily climbing into the lap of our loving Father where all mercy derives.

Getting mercy and sacrifice right.

There have been times, out of frustration with one of my own "spirited" (um, melodramatic) children that I curtly said to them, "OH, Get over it already, JUST OFFER IT UP!" The phrase is delivered like an arrow into the poor child's heart, lacking compassion and sensitivity. I'm sure my piercing words inspire them to be saintly in their offering it up! My disdain and rebuke are totally lacking in love and more importantly, mercy. I hope to grow in my approach to sacrifice by learning to accept the difference between suffering through sacrifice and willingly, and joyfully accepting it as a means to sanctification.

Father Cantalamessa puts it this way, "God does not want sacrifice 'at all costs', as if he took pleasure in seeing us suffer; nor does he want sacrifices that are aimed at placing our rights and merits before him, or that result from a misunderstanding of duty. He wants rather the sacrifice that is required by his love and by the observance of the commandments....Sacrifice and mercy are both good things but they can become bad if misapplied. They are good things if--as Christ did--we choose sacrifice for ourselves and mercy for others; they can become bad things if on the contrary we choose mercy for ourselves and sacrifice for others, that is, if we are indulgent with ourselves and rigorous with others, ready to excuse ourselves and quick to judge others."

The Mercy-Sacrifice Grapevine

WOW! What a challenge Father Cantalamessa gives us. One of my greatest struggles in dealing with my husband, children and others is to be quick to judge their own suffering or sacrifices. (The let me tell YOU a thing or two about suffering attitude.) I can hear myself now..."It can't be that bad. I wish you would just stop whining about it! You're not the only one making sacrifices around here!" Yet, when it comes to my own suffering or sacrifice, I indulge in self-pity and want the world to commisserate with me! I look for compassion and empathy from others and when I don't get it, I fall right back into the trap of self-pity and feeling unloved.  So, if I do this to myself, what am I doing to my children and husband when I lack mercy towards them?

Jesus said, "Mercy is what please me". It pleases Him because in order to be merciful we must stop being self-absorbed. We must put someone else's needs above our own. St. Therese the Little Flower, a favorite saint of our family, once said that she prayed that she might be a sweet grape to satisfy, if only ever so slightly, the thirst of Christ. Christ thirsts for us. He wants us to be with Him for all eternity. He wants us to be Christ-like in the mercy we show others. It is up to us to decide if our sacrifice is to be one of sour grapes or the sweet grapes of mercy.

Mary Kidd Flemming blogs for The Handmaids of Mercy , The Splendor of Truth and The Compass Rose (Parenting and Family Life Issues). You may also enjoy her husband's website: Crossroads Family Center

God's Mercy from Creation to Eternity

A new merciful way of looking at our bodies and souls.

I'm taking a wonderful seminar at CDU (Catholic Distance University) it is entitled, Introduction to Genesis and it is taught by Dr. Robert D. Miller II.  The following quote was in our lecture notes: "Man is in the image of God, not one aspect of man! We aren't souls encased in a body; we are people - body and soul. Man's spiritual life is not something added to his physical life, our very existence is our relationship to God."

This is a novel concept to me because I've always heard that the soul is what was created in the "image of God' so I prayed to the Holy Spirit for enlightenment. My heart was flooded with thoughts. First, I remembered Our Blessed Mother, assumed body and soul into heaven. Why? because she was immaculate, without blemish. When God created Adam and Eve, they too were without blemish until they chose to disobey God. Eve's quest for "knowledge" on her own terms, as opposed to God's wisdom, led to her disobedience and sin entering the world, by way of death. In order to die, there must be a cause for death, hence aging and disease etc. Prior to the fall, there was no aging, no disease, no death. Body and Soul were in a perfect union acting together.  Eve made the choice in her mind to say "No, I will not abstain" from the tree of knowledge and used her body to pick the fruit of temptation. Body and Soul worked together to her demise.

                                  

I believe that life's struggles are actually opportunities to choose virtue or vice, once we make the choice in our mind then we eventually move forward with our bodies. Our Blessed Mother humbled herself in complete obedience to the Father, "Be it done to me according to your will."  She did not have all the knowledge most young girls would have desired about her situation, but she had faith and used her free will to say "Yes" to God. She said yes with her mind and her body when she conceived Christ. Her soul and body were in perfect union with one another, because she was in obedience to God.

We must not separate our intellect and spirituality from the actions of our bodies.

The body is a blessing. It is the body that allows us to touch, to feel, to hear, to see, to taste, to smell, but it can be a curse when we don't use it as God intended. When we say no to God, and sin with our bodies...lust, gluttony, sex outside of marriage, etc. we upset the "order" intended by God in creating us in His image. I think we get too boxed in by the word "image"....we think in terms of an absolute replica...instead, perhaps we need to think of "image" as "strikingly alike" or "in union. with".  For example, when someone says, "Oh she is the "image" of her Mom" they really mean, so much like her, or an uncanny resemblance. Isn't that what God wants of us, to desire to be like him in our nature? Not to be "A God", but to be like God. We must not separate our intellect and spirituality from the actions of our bodies, because God created us to have them work in unison with one another in order for us to fully know Him, love Him and serve Him.

So, what if we've messed up? Is it too late?

Take the Prodigal Son for example. He made bad choices. With his mind he greedily decided to take his inheritance and with his body he used his money to sin. But, his father waited anxiously for his return. When the prodigal son did return, his father seeing him in the distance, went running towards him joyfully rejoicing. This is how it is with Our Heavenly Father, he is waiting with Divine Mercy for us to return to communion with Him. The prodigal son was repentant and only expected to serve his father as a lowly servant when he humbly returned. But, the Father said, bring him fine robes and serve him a feast. The mercy of God is like this, shining in splendor, spread out like a feast before us, awaiting our return. All we have to do is to return to Him with a contrite heart and a soul wanting to be united with the actions of our bodies.

Why not take a class or two at CDU?  CDU Catholic Distance University

Mary Kidd Flemming blogs for The Handmaids of Mercy , The Splendor of Truth and The Compass Rose (Parenting and Family Life Issues). You may also enjoy her husband's website: Crossroads Family Center

My Mother's Day Shot in the Arm, courtesy of the Holy Spirit.

Getting what you ask for...

Over the past few weeks, God has given me just what I needed and just what I'd ask for....only on His terms.

A few weeks ago, while preparing for a field trip with my son to the National Zoo, I had a sudden overwhelming pain in my stomach. It was similar to female pain that I've had in the past when suffering with endometriosis, but I hadn't had any problems with that for about 17 years. It was somewhat different, a burning pain, almost like a small fire had been set in my lower abdomen.

I was determined to go to the zoo anyway. I'd promised Justin, we'd been looking forward to it since the beginning of the school year and I would just take two tylenol, add a few to my purse and deal with it. That is exactly what I did. But, as I walked around the zoo, I knew that something wasn't right, this was pretty intense pain. The bus ride home was excruciating. My husband, John, took me to the emergency room that evening, but they were extremely busy and we decided to go home. All night long I agonized with pain comparable to the last bit of childbirth. I went to the doctor the next day only to be told that she felt it was a female problem, most likely an ovarian cyst and that I'd need to get an ultrasound at the hospital and follow up with my OB/Gyn.

The next day I went to the hospital and had the ultrasound, but the technician couldn't see my ovaries! Huh? I knew they were there, and half-jokingly insisted that I'd never authorized for them to be removed! He recommended that I see my OB/Gyn because there was a lot of "air" in my intestines apparently blocking the view of my ovaries. So, I made an appointment and was in to see my OB/Gyn before I knew it. He found a "fluid sac" but it wasn't on my ovary, he said it looked to be an inflammation of my intestine. He suggested a strict diet regimen for two weeks which consisted of eliminating many simple carbs, and he said he was almost 100 percent sure that I'd be feeling better at the end of the two weeks. He was right.

Prior to this incident, our entire family had joined the hospital affiliated Wellness Center and I'd started working out again. I was feeling better but having trouble losing weight because I didn't have a "diet" plan. Well, now I had one, an un-realistic one, but it was a start. I clearly remembered praying for a lifestyle change for all of us in regards to better eating and exercise, so I knew in a way, this was probably an answer to prayer.

My shot in the arm, courtesy of the Holy Spirit.

Some people refer to a wake-up call, a new realization, a new understanding as a "shot in the arm". Not only did my stomach pain and change in diet foreshadow what would happen over the next few weeks, it began to prepare me to consider how I'd been abusing high carb foods for years. I realized I was addicted to the sugar rush after two weeks with out potatoes, sweets, rice and breads. I began to see that my stomach pain was self-inflicted and a consequence of a lack of self-control and temperance (moderation). In other words, gluttony and wild abandon were running my life, and consequently the lives of my children and husband.

I cried while thinking about the challenge of making changes and sticking to them...uh, that's called fortitude. I'd had some success. My kids love all kinds of fruits and vegetables and I'd switched to whole grains about a year ago, my dinners were well planned and balanced. But, I knew I also had my failures, too many high carb snacks, treats and drinks plagued our family. I prayed that somehow I could inspire my family to get on board with making a healthy lifestyle change.

Then, I had "THE" phone call from my husband. He was having chest pains and shortness of breath. Thankfully, it turned out to just be anxiety and indigestion, but it scared the bee-jeebies out of him and me too! He went to the local emergent care center, with both of us thinking he was having heart problems. In the course of the hour and a half between the start of the pain and the results of the test, my forty-one year-old husband had a lot of time to think. While praying for him, I asked God to please keep him here with me until we both grew very old and to help him to make healthy changes. John came home that evening a changed man, devoted to "getting healthier" and we talked for hours about the changes we needed to make.

My son's shot in the arm, an exercise in virtue.

Though we were both resigned that we needed to do this for ourselves and our children, we didn't become completely convinced until the diagnosis of our eight-year-old son with Type I Diabetes (insulin dependent). This cinched the deal. Justin has to have a regulated diet, he has to learn temperance, fortitude and self-control, gifts of the Holy Spirit long before he is confirmed. The alternative is death, period, that's the final answer. So, my son's cross, his challenge, his suffering will benefit us all in the long run. With each shot that I give him in the arm, I realize that it is a shot in the arm for me as well, a wake-up call to better take care of the temples of the Holy Spirit dwelling in my household. I remember thinking how odd it was that Mother's Day and Pentecost were on the same day this year. How foolish of me, mothers attempt to teach our children virtues every day. What a better job we'd do if we relied on the assistance and the gifts of the Holy Spirit more often. The gift may be delivered by a blazing, burning, fiery pain in the stomach or an alcohol swab followed by a injectible syringe delivering insulin.

Insulin is the "key" that opens the door to our cells to let sugar inside. The sugar is the energy that our body needs, it keeps us fueled, without it we become lifeless. Sometimes we need a "key" to open the door to keep us spiritually energized. The key given to us by Christ is the Holy Spirit. When we let the Holy Spirit open the door to our hearts, we can cross the threshold to Christ-like living. We embrace the virtues and turn away from the vices. We have a new Pentecost.

Mary Kidd Flemming writes for Handmaids of Mercy, The Splendor of Truth, and The Compass Rose (Parenting and Family Issues)

You may also enjoy her husband's website: Crossroads Family Center

Mercy's Motherhood

Motherhood: Being Tough is Not Enough

Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo. I sent my excited kindergartener off to school with his jar of salsa for the fiesta, not knowing that it would be a day that would forever change the life of our family. After the older kids got on the bus, my husband took our eight-year-old son to the doctor for what I thought was a bladder infection. Our son has asthma and severe eczema and suffers a great deal from these ailments and has been very cranky for weeks. Within twenty minutes of arriving at the doctor, my husband was told that our son was also suffering from Type I Diabetes. His disease will require daily shots of insulin and a strict diet. John was also informed compassionately by our very loving, supportive, Catholic friend and pediatrician....that it was "another" auto-immune disorder.

I say "another" auto-immune disorder, because last December, we spent a week at UVA Children's Hospital with our four-year-old daughter, where she was diagnosed with Auto-Immune Liver Disease. Dr. Werner later told me that she regreted deeply having to tell John that we were facing another auto-immune disorder, and she knows how hard this all must be for us to absorb. It is hard. I'm finding it extremely difficult and I'm agonizing in my heart about being able to meet another child's medical needs. I've been told by many people that God doesn't ever give you anything that you can't handle. I've felt a lot of pressure after a well-meaning person has said this to me. It seems the burden is placed squarely on my ability to "handle" the situation. It is almost like suck it up, gather yourself together and move on. This is true to some extent, we do have to find strength somewhere inside ourselves, but what so many people fail to realize is that being tough is not enough. Eventually, the effects of being tough will manifest themselves in personal illness, psychological issues or even addictions if we focus only on our own ability to handle the situation.

Amazing Grace, Divine Mercy and Holy Nudges

We can not lean on our own understanding, we must ask for grace and mercy. Grace is freely given from God, we can't earn it, but we can ask for it. Yesterday, I was beside myself after hanging up the phone with my husband. I cried out, "God, help me, my little boy, why my little boy, he is already suffering so much?" Immediately, I felt the urge to call my SOUL SISTER Hannah. I simply asked her for her prayers, that's all I could do. I also told her that it seems this disorder comes from my bad gene pool and she quickly rebuked me in a kind and compassionate way saying, "Mary this is not your fault, you can not blame yourself. God loves you and Justin and He is with you now. He will give you the graces you need."

Later on in the afternoon, Hannah emailed me with some amazing news. She was in her office at the church and flipped over a Liturgy magazine that had been sitting on her desk for several days. On the back cover was the following:

Saint Pauline of the Agonizing Heart of Jesus (1865-1942)

O St. Pauline Visintainer, always trusting in God,

having suffered yourself with the affliction of diabetes,

and ever faithful in responding to Our Lady's call

to help diabetics and all the suffering in the world,

we ask your loving care over the Church that you

love so dearly; we entrust to your loving care our lives,

our famiilies  and all of God's people.

Hannah sat there and typed out the entire article about St. Pauline for me and put it in her email! She said she just couldn't wait to get me a copy. I'm so glad she did. This prayer brought me so much comfort. I'm a self-ascribed Handmaid of Mercy, dedicated to spreading the Divine Mercy Message, "Jesus, I Trust in You.",  yet I needed something to remind me of that message. "O St. Pauline, always trusting in God...." ALWAYS trusting in God at all times, I couldn't remember that in my agonizing heart, but through God's grace and Hannah's willingness to be a handmaid of mercy, I was reminded to put my trust in Him.

You know, the patron saint of diabetics could have had any name, but her chosen name was Pauline. In 2007, I had a sudden unexpected miscarriage. I felt in my heart the baby was a girl and named her JoHannah Paulina after Pope John Paul II and my dear soul sister Hannah. It is no mere coincidence that it was Hannah that found the information about St. Paulina. I truly believe that my little saint in heaven Johannah Paulina interceded on behalf of her brother, by sending a holy nudge to her spiritual godmother on earth. This very small act of turning over a magazine while immersed in thoughts and prayers for our family turned out to be a tremendous act of mercy for a mother with an agonizing heart.

Reflections from Heaven

Several years ago, I was directing the Children's Choir at our church and Hannah was playing the organ. During the rehearsal, I turned around to look at the clock and noticed a beautiful round circle of light on the back wall outside of the confessional. I said to Hannah, "Look at that, doesn't it look like the Eucharist?" She said that she had seen that before and thought the same thing. We pointed it out to the children, who were by the way preparing to sing for First Communion. So, every week we watched for the stained-glass induced Eucharist on the wall. The amazing thing is that the stained-glass window with a cross and a bleeding heart representing Precious Blood has no white glass in it.

Last night, before heading to the hospital, I stopped by the church to offer my prayers for Justin before the Blessed Sacrament. I sobbed more deeply than I ever have while alone in the Church with Our Lord. I let it loose, I let it go, and turned it all over to Him. I asked for direction and immediately the words of the Memorae came to my mind about Our Blessed Mother never abandoning us and then the Hail Holy Queen came to my lips and I began to sing them out loud:

Hail Holy Queen, Mother of MERCY, our life, our sweetness and our HOPE, to Thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send out our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then Most Gracious Advocate, Thine eyes of Mercy towards us. And after this, our exile, show unto us the Blessed Fruit of Thy womb, Jesus. O Clement, O Loving, O Sweet Virgin Mary. Amen.

It is May, the month dedicated to Our Blessed Mother. It is also the Month for First Communion and May crowning. On Saturday, May 3, 2008, my Justin received his First Holy Communion. On Sunday, May 4, 2008 he received his second communion and crowned the statue of the Virgin Mary with his brothers and sisters. On May 5, 2008 he received his lifelong cross of insulin dependent diabetes. As I sat pondering all of this and looking up at Justin's First Communion banner, I wondered if the stain-glassed Eucharist was on the back wall. I turned looking behind me and it wasn't there. I said my final prayers and genuflected beside my pew. As I turned to leave, I looked over at the pew across the aisle from me, where a small white round circle the size of a dessert plate was reflected on that pew. My Eucharistic reminder was no longer behind me or a figment of my past experience, but was seated right beside me, reminding me that Jesus is right beside me at all times, it is up to me to take His hand and the hand of His Blessed Mother like a little child and let them lead me wherever I need to go.....the hospital, the pharmacy, the specialists, or uncharted waters.

Mary Kidd Flemming, Founder of The Handmaids of Mercy www.handmaidsofmercy.typepad.com

Mary's blog about TRUTH, www.splendor-of-truth.com

Other Blogging by Mary Kidd Flemming concerning parenting issues and family life can be found at www.thecompassrose.typepad.com

You may also be interested in visiting www.crossroadsfamilycenter.com the website of Crossroads Professional Counseling and Family Life Center, owned and operated by John A Flemming, LPC. 

Filling our nests with Divine Mercy

During the 2007 Advent Season, I felt the urge to get a small tree for our foyer, but it seemed like a frivolous expense after looking at local options which didn't fit my December budgetary constraints. Then my husband John and I happened upon a true bargain, a potted 5 ft. tall artificial evergreen, originally $75.00 marked down to $17.00 because it was a floor model. I'm the kind of gal that always goes to the clearance racks first. I've been a thrift shopper since a child, learning to stretch a dollar a long way out of necessity. That has proven to be an asset in raising six children. My husband asked how I planned to decorate my bargain and suggested we look for decorations before leaving the store. He found a nice set of beautiful bird ornaments that he said reminded him of the ones that his grandparents once had on their tree. They were very nice, but were extremely breakable. They also were pricey and to get enough for the tree would have been costly. Disappointed, yet inspired, we put them back on the shelf.

A few days later, I was back in the same store again and thought I'd take another look at the ornaments. I was thrilled to find several tiny wooden bird ornaments in various colors and became even more excited when I saw they were on sale at a basement bargain price! I carefully chose enough of the ornaments to fill the tree and brought them home to show my bird loving husband and kids.

My husband's love of birds is most definitely passed on by his Grandfather, Albert Latusek. Grandpap loved bird watching and listening. Very often when we would visit him in Monroeville, PA we would join him and Grandma on the big swing he'd built out back or on the back porch. We would sit quietly and listen to Grandpap chirp "bird" calls and watch the birds go in and out of the birdhouses by his grapevine. When our oldest son John was about 2 1/2, he asked me something about Pap-Pap, I asked him which Pap-Pap he was talking about and he said, "Pap-Pap Birdie in Pencil-Pencil-vaneyah!" The name stuck and from then on, Grandpap became Pap-Pap Birdie to our children.

I was so excited to show my colorful treasures to my husband and children when I returned home from my ornament treasure hunt. My husband was impressed when I told him I'd only spent $15.00 for the whole lot of them. Everyone took turns looking at all the different birds. Everyone but Jake. Jake looked at me and said, "I don't like birds, Mom."  All the other children started laughing at this surprising statement from my six-year-old. The sudden laughter truly agitated Jake. He said in protest, "It is NOT funny, birds are dumb and scary!" This was followed by more laughter from the kids who couldn't believe their little brother was scared of birds. After hushing them and sending them away, I asked Jake why he didn't like birds. He responded, "They have very sharp beaks, Mom." I went on to explain why birds had beaks and what they used them for and I assured Jake that birds were not out to terrorize little boys. My husband, John was sitting there and he brought up how he had learned to love birds from Pap-Pap Birdie. He talked at length about how Pap-Pap Birdie had built bird houses and knew different bird calls. He explained to Jake that birds were a part of God's creation. Jake listened intently and said, "But Pap-Pap Birdie is in heaven now. Do they have birds in heaven?" John and I looked at each other rather dumbfounded. Wow! How do we answer that one? After a brief silenced we both stumbled into something about how we "hoped" there were birds, but even if there weren't, that most certainly the saints in heaven could still enjoy in some mystical way, the birds on earth.

The Pap-Pap Birdie Christmas tree spent the month of December and a good bit of January in the entry foyer of our home. As I carefully put away the ornaments, I was rather sad, because I'd enjoyed looking at them everyday. I decided to place the artificial tree on the porch as we had picked up another (at an even better markdown) at the after Christmas sale. We placed them in front of the long rectangular windows which adorn each side of our front door. Jake continued to struggle with his issues with birds and John and I had many conversations discussing strategies to help Jake de-sensitize and re-think his position on birds.

With no success, I started thinking a lot about my Grandma Kidd and how she always had such a special way of explaining things to little ones. She taught kindergarten for years, and always had a bird nest on her science table. If only she were here to give me her advice. I closed my eyes and immediately felt the urge to pray about Jake's fears. Perhaps it was a holy nudge from Grandma. If only this mother of six could come to the conclusion to pray in a more timely way when presented with a challenge, our nest would be a much more peaceful place! As with most of the answers to prayer in my life, I've stubbornly learned the hard way, to trust that God would answer me within His time.

The trees remained on the porch for the month of January, February and March and then a miracle happened. On the Friday before Divine Mercy Sunday, which happens to be the two year anniversary of my Grandma Kidd's death, I was cleaning the foyer and saw movement on the front porch. I peered out of the window to see a small wren building a nest in the Pap-Pap Birdie tree. NO WAY! I couldn't believe it! When the Mama bird saw me, she quickly flew away. I peered into the nest and there were three tiny blue eggs. I called to the little ones to come see. They anxiously awaited the arrival of their older siblings from school to share the news.

Of all the trees in our yard, the mother bird chose this one, the one with a clear view of her nest from inside our own nest. Our family has our very own window on God's magnificent creation, bird parents, their nest, and their five little eggs to date. We are all waiting (even Jake) in anticipation for the birds to hatch and to watch them grow and leave the nest. We've named the Papa Bird Albert and the Mama Bird Hilda, after John's grandparents. We are hashing out names for each egg now. I can't help but believe that these tiny little wrens (Pap-Pap Birdie's favorite birds by the way) are an active merciful intercession between heaven and earth. An actual communion with the saints. A grandmother helping out her grand-daughter. A great-grandfather that never got to meet his fourth great-grandson sending him a special gift wrapped in a nest and filled with Divine Mercy. The Divine Mercy so needed in times of fear and in times of ineptness.

Mary Kidd Flemming, Founder of The Handmaids of Mercy www.handmaidsofmercy.typepad.com

Other Blogging by Mary Kidd Flemming concerning parenting issues and family life can be found at www.thecompassrose.typepad.com

You may also be interested in visiting www.crossroadsfamilycenter.com the website of Crossroads Professional Counseling and Family Life Center, owned and operated by John A Flemming, LPC. 

Glorious Merciful Laundry

When I was a little girl, we did not own a dryer. I have many fond memories of running through the yard dodging both clothing and sheets in the three or four clotheslines that my Grandfather had built. There was nothing like the smell or feel of clean, damp laundry being hung just so by my Grandmother. She showed me how to carefully overlap each piece so to make the best use of her limited clothespins....the old fashioned kind without the pincher clasp. I would sit on the back porch very often eating warm peanut buttered toast and watch the laundry blowing in the wind.

I remember abandoning the toast on more than one occasion favoring a run through the laundry instead. The white and light loads were my favorite. There was a sense of running through the very clouds of heaven itself. My sister and I were like little angels as we floated about, dodging the moving clouds. Pristine white sheets and pale clothing blowing wisps of bleach my way, the world was clean, fragrant and beautiful. The white clothes drying in the hot summer sun emanated not only a warmth, but a certain glorious glow across our backyard, one that I had not thought about in years until today.

Yesterday, I was privileged to receive the traveling Divine Mercy Icon on behalf of our parish. I could hardly wait for the box to open and for it to be removed from its cloth bag. When it finally emerged, I was taken back. The often seen brightly colored image of the Divine Mercy Jesus was not brightly colored at all but instead very pale in color. I was surprised but not at all disappointed. The Polish artist, Anna Sekowska that had been commissioned to paint the icon for our diocese had chosen a much paler palette than I'd ever seen used before. As I gazed more intently at the image, I was drawn to how it somewhat glowed from the canvas. Every detail seemed to suggest more strongly the risen Christ, radiant in the resurrection. This was a new take for me on the Divine Mercy image as the one in our home is done in bright colors. I knew there was a hidden meaning somewhere in all of this for me, otherwise it would not have had such a strong impact on me at first sight.

Five families from each parish in our diocese were given a photographed copy of the icon to take home. We were asked to pray the Divine Mercy chaplet and the rosary each night that the image is in our home for the healing of families. Tonight was the first night the image was present in our home. I envisioned us all sitting around the image, saying our prayers together. My husband had to visit some families in crisis tonight and my oldest son was celebrating his one year anniversary with his girlfriend. I was alone with my five younger children, one of which was continuing to celebrate his eighth birthday and another of which starts Kindergarten tomorrow.

By 8:30 I knew that my prayertime would be spent alone tonight before the image of the icon, there was just no other way and I think that is just what I needed. Time alone with Jesus. As I continued to gaze on the image during the rosary and the chaplet I was drawn to the fact that today is Sunday....the glorious mysteries...of course! The resurrection and the ascension, (both full of images of the beautiful resurrected Jesus in all His glory). Next, the descent of the holy spirit (I was reminded of my need to call on the Holy Spirit more often for healing in my own family). The assumption and the coronation (of course the Mother of Mercy, the handmaid of the Lord constantly returning us to Jesus). All the things this tired mother of six and struggling handmaid needed was set out before me. And while I was pondering this glowing picture of Jesus I was transported back to my childhood backyard on a warm summer day. Back to a time when a glimpse of the glory of heaven was so plain to see to my childish eyes and I reveled in it all. Little did I know what plans God had during the making of those memories, in order to reveal His glory to me as an adult, more deeply than ever before! Glorious laundry and a professional artist's renderings, I could have never made the connection without the Lord's grace. Jesus, I trust in You, You gift us every day whether we realize it or not.

Dancing with Daddy

Today I'm feeling conflicted. We just got back on Sunday evening from a wonderful, joyful family wedding where children were invited! My children had so much fun dancing with cousins their own age and cousins in their twenties and thirties, Aunts and Uncles and Great-Aunts and Great-Uncles, Grandparents and family friends. It truly was a generational family affair enjoyed by all, especially my children's Great-Grandma Latusek, who taught them all some dance moves and danced nearly every dance. These are the memories I live for and I know my children will cherish forever. I feel so grateful that my husband's Aunt and Uncle not only allowed my children to attend the wedding, but wanted them there. I'm sure our family of eight added significantly to the guest list, the noise level and the budget, but in spite of all those inconveniences, our brood was invited and welcomed with open arms.

As I watched the bride dancing with her own Dad, I was flooded with the memories of my own wedding. I thought how happy Daddy was and what a sacrifice he made financially and physically to be there for me. He had had emergency gall bladder surgery the week before my wedding, but he was determined to be there to dance with his little girl. And little did I know that I would only have him with me for four more short years. As I watched Megan and her Dad and the smiles on their faces, I quietly prayed for many more years together for them and that he would one day dance with his own grandchildren. I felt the glow on her Mom's face from across the room as she gazed at her beautiful daughter. The glow was especially heartwarming because Megan's Mom is a cancer survivor.

My thoughts carefully turned to another family fighting cancer. Our family friend Cathy was told the day before we left for Pittsburgh that the doctors could do no more to help her husband, dying from brain cancer. I wondered how much time he would be given and my mind drifted to his five children, two daughters in their early twenties, two sons aged nine and thirteen and then to his daughter aged fifteen, a good friend of my son John. My heart sunk, I grieved for Patricia silently at the reception table as my eyes took in the beauty of a bride dancing with her Daddy. This magnificent gift will not be one Patricia will receive, and as I reflected on the power of that gift, I felt ashamed for not having appreciated the value of it before now. I desperately want this gift for my own daughters and I'm sure Cathy has hoped for the same for their daughters.

We left to come home on Sunday and spent a good bit of time talking about all the fun we had at the wedding. As we were heading down the Pennsylvania Turnpike, we got the news that Keith had passed away. The circle of life...weddings and funerals. Immediately, the car quieted, a hush fell over even the little ones and our joy turned to sorrow for their family. I couldn't stop thinking about Cathy, she had been so hopeful for the last year as Keith experienced a brief remission before the cancer invaded his brain. Even after the bad news, she remained hopeful and so very strong. Then, my thoughts turned to the children that would grow up without their Dad present at the milestones of their lives.

I think as a whole, our society takes so much for granted, often becoming entitled. We so often get entangled in the small stuff...planning "perfect" child-free weddings or complaining about out of town accommodations or the menu to which we are guests. We sometimes pick away at the efforts of others totally ignoring the generosity shown towards us because the effort did not meet our standards in some way, or is somehow not enough. I've attended a lot of weddings and a lot of funerals and I've heard a lot of complaints about the way the "family" handled anything from food to the service. I just want to stand up on the banquet table and scream at the top of my lungs, "Don't you see the gifts before you???? OPEN your eyes and your hearts!!! Have mercy on these poor folk for goodness sake!!!"

We sometimes become so entangled in our own narcissistic ways that we can not see God's gifts before us. The gift of a Mother and Father enjoying their child's wedding in spite of the challenge of cancer. The gift of a few more months, a few more weeks, a few more days, a few more minutes to say to someone... " I love you. You are so special to me. I appreciate you for who you are with all your quirks and idiosyncrasies... not for who I think you should be. Sometimes you let me down, sometimes I let you down, and sometimes we disagree, but nothing will destroy the love I have for you. I thank God for putting you in my life even with all the little annoyances and inconveniences that come our way. Even the beautiful. fragrant rose was not spared the thorns. Dear Lord, have mercy on us and help us see the tiny gifts that you give us every day we are privileged to once again open our eyes to the light. Help us to free ourselves from the small unimportant inconveniences and annoyances that keep us from seeing clearly the gifts you set before us. Please help change our hearts so that we may all one day dance with you in heaven.

Mercy is Medicine for the Soul

My children are sick. Three doctor visits within two days. Five of my six kids have strep and four of those five also have a strep related skin infection invading mosquito bites, small cuts and eczema hot spots. My refrigerator is filled with bottles of pink medicine. Normally, the boys would bawk at pink medicine, but for some reason the pink amoxicillin is being taken without any rebellion. I think it is because the taste is no where near as bad as the augmentin most of them had the last time we had a household epidemic. I also think they are all tired of sore throats and itchy spots.

We are so blessed. Our Pediatrician, Our Pediatric Nurse Practitioner and my OB/Gyn are all active members of our parish. I'm certain that the faith of each one of these people makes all the difference in the exceptional care our family has received. They are patient, even in the event of the tantruming toddler, nursing baby or the sleep-deprived frazzled Mom. They are kind, they speak with a gentle, reassuring tone to not only the interupting or agitated child but also to the anxious parent. They are not rushed, but rather relaxed. They take the time to not only answer questions, but the time to offer and discuss the recent research pertinent to the diagnosis. A sense of peaceful serenity envelopes each one of them. They each have been gifted by God with what seems to be the perfect demeaner for their vocation. They are trustworthy, full of compassion and mercy. According to the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, the third definition of mercy is "compassionate treatment of those in distress".

Distress is pain or suffering affecting the body, a bodily part or the mind. That explains very well the current state of our sleep-deprived family of itchers, scratchers and hoarse-voiced complainers. There are times we've been in distress with something a bit more urgent, like a bad asthma attack or an unexpected sudden miscarriage. Yet, the compassionate care we have received has never seemed compromised. It makes you wonder if these people ever have a bad day, I'm sure they do, but God has given them the grace to conceal it from their patients. I'm sure that their grace-filled vocations will continue to be blessed and that they will continue to bless others with the life-changing gift of mercy.

These wonderful people certainly inspire me to be a kindler, gentler, more compassionate and merciful mother as my children begin to recuperate. God is so good, He allows us to find Him even in times of distress. When we can't seem to remember He is with us always and everywhere, He reveals His mercy through the encouraging smile and gentle demeanor of another. Mercy is medicine for the soul.