When Christ said to go into a closet to pray; not to make a great show of speaking to God…I think this is because there is no more intimate connection in a relationship than being alone and speaking of all that is in one’s heart. Prayer has taken many forms for me. As a child, prayer was about asking for something. As a young adult, prayer was about asking for something! I was harnessed to the idea that something magical would occur and what I was asking for was really going to materialize. In a frenzy of “why isn’t God giving me what I’m asking for?”, I was told by two of my Southern Baptist friends, “you are not saying the right prayers.” Years went by…wondering what particular words I needed to say so that God would rescue me. I began to read some books about Buddhism. I love the book that combined the efforts of Vietnamese monk, Thich Nhat Hanh and Father Thomas Merton…LIVING BUDDHA, LIVING CHRIST. I explored more books by this wonderful monk, who keeps ideas simple and direct. The RELIEF that I began to feel,knowing that God is not micro-managing my life; that God is not doling out or withholding “things” based upon “how” I pray. The sense of freedom that I began to have…. understanding that I am blessed with LIFE! I am capable of making decisions. Prayer, for me, is rather like going to a very close friend…someone to open my heart to; and, often from whom I don’t require a response….just to know that I am heard. As I share my thoughts, sometimes my fears, doubts, heartache, with God; I am inspired to be myself! I am safe to talk things out; to know that I’ve been heard; to know that somewhere, somehow I really will have the courage and strength to get through another day. When I pray for others; I ask for peace of mind, courage, strength. I cannot presume to ask for more. HOW do I know that I have been heard, and that I am heard. As I step away from myself to reflect on the past and even the events of this day…I am in AWE of so many things that I survived both physically and mentally;of the joy that unexpectedly fills my heart and yet has no feasible explanation. I know that I am not “walking” alone.

MichaelCarlos….blessings on you as you search for what your heart needs and requires.

Becky Wolfe wrote, “I use to worry that so many different interpretations, would diminish the true meaning to Scripture and would be somewhat sacrilegious.” I think the Church has worried about that in the past, but anyone who understands classic literature knows that it touches people in their particular circumstances. That’s what makes it CLASSIC literature!

Over and over, I’ve wondered about why Abraham stopped at 10 people. I love the way the text says that his visitors walked on but the LORD remained standing before Abraham. The LORD must have noticed that Abraham had something on his mind. There’s a very confidential tete-a-tete or heart –to-heart going on because Abraham “drew nearer” to God. Abraham seems to be buttering God up “far be it from you to do such a thing….” Maybe he’s just telling God that he knows who God is and has experienced God’s mercy. There’s that Eastern flavor of bargaining going on in the conversation, Abraham saying things like, “Let not my LORD grow impatient …” or “Since I have thus dared to speak to my LORD…” and even “Please, let not my LORD grow angry if I speak up this last.” No matter how many times I read the text, I don’t get a sense that God is growing impatient or angry. (I guess you had to be there.) God just says the same thing over in different ways. “For the sake of …I won’t destroy…”
But there’s that question of why stop at ten? I am reminded that in the process of prayer, dialoguing with God or simply sitting in the stillness where the Holy Spirit speaks, I find that sometimes my prayer changes. I come to a place of knowing that what I have prayed for is not going to happen the way that I want. When my dad was dying of esophageal cancer, I prayed for a miracle and healing of all kinds. I reached out in ways that I never prayed before. The signs were all there. He was not going to get better. Then I prayed for his peaceful death and my being able to let go.
So where was the Holy Spirit in all that? Probably leading me to the prayer of letting go and surrender, a prayer that I did not want to pray in the beginning. It was a time of recognizing that God was in control and that I could not manipulate God or make this pain go away. I guess both Abraham and I yielded, put down our arms and shields of thinking that we knew what was best. Even though Abraham stopped at 10 and I began to pray differently, I think the most important thing that happened was the relationship, the conversation with God, the boldness that tells God, “This is what I need…want…” and the willingness to let the Spirit’s promptings move me to another prayer.

What wonderful “letters”!! I learn so much from reading the thoughts and interpretations of others.

Yesterday morning I attended 7:30 Mass. A first for me. I
had a friend request that I attend this Mass and then come to her home to have breakfast with her and some friends. As
we all arrived…almost at the same time…along with our hostess; there was a great deal of scurrying around to get
all the food set out and coffee brewing. Amid all the apologies for “I’m so sorry that everything is not ready”;
I reflected last night…what a GREAT time we were having
in preparation. I remembered: My aunts, grandparents, my mom’s kitchens were the hub of all good things. I thought back to when my children were growing up…up to my wrists in mashed potatoes! laughter…”just a bite, mom”..tall tales being told…inclusive of me…”don’t you dare put your finger in that!” “no, you cannot have any…have to
wait until the meal is served”; “mom, this needs more…more
something! Dear Lord…the quandry of “WHAT?”..and more and more sampling. And, at the table…when everything was finally prepared,”Mom, you’re not eating much.” How could I
eat…I’d sampled my way through every dish to find the missing “more of something”!! Why am I sitting here with tears? My family is pretty much gone; my children are all grown. The kitchen…where in the preparing of food; sometimes love is at its best; wounded spirits are forgotten;and thankfulness ,however brief, abides. As I reflect on my past; I kinda wish that maybe Jesus and Mary might have gone into the kitchen to be with Martha…good food, good conversation, the intimacy of friendship…all shared in the heart of any home…the kitchen.

I’ve been thinking about those angels and wondering if maybe they came just to tell “good news,” without expecting a feast. I know that it was part of desert hospitality to supply food and drink, to take care of the needs of travelers. Abraham does exactly that. He is described as a most gracious host. I’ve been there, done that. Here’s the question: was the announcement of a son a reward or was it the purpose of the angels’ visit? Would God have promised Sarah’s pregnancy just because God wanted to give and assure the fulfillment of the covenant made long before?
God’s messengers were about to speak of a miracle. Like Martha, Abraham had to do something. It gives me pause and causes me to ask myself if there are times when I interrupt the proclamation of “good news” because I have to do something first. As if I were in charge, I have to set the stage, create the environment, offer the first gift, out do God. What if I could just listen (like Mary) to the Word God speaks and then respond? Would standing in awe and marveling at the blessing that has come my way be enough? Or would I still have to rush around and make something happen?
Just in case, I’ve decided to take a moment before I act and see if there’s an angel standing in front of me ready to speak “good news.”

The thing I learned at a really young age is there are different types of love, and when I hear in a reading the LOVE OF GOD, I think of Father Corapi on EWTN. though I can’t for the life of me remember the word he uses that means the Love of God in Greek, yet it made a impression on me that set the wheels that started turning toward my reconversion to the Catholic Faith,after a twenty year lapse into a dark and distant journey of Godlessness. When at the end of that journey I realized that everything I had always wanted was within the Catholic Faith. True understanding, true love and hope, were in the Lord’s loving arms waiting for me. I have always been loved by Him though I have not always been loving toward Him or His childern. My priest has spent many hours since my return trying to teach me the difference between loving and caring from enabling , this I at a young age. I alway thought that to see a negative situation in the actions and values of others, was being judgemental, and the Lord warned us about judging others. Father has taught me that being Prudent is important also. There’s acts of caring like Kathy spoke of in her sharing this week where a family gave help and saved a life, and then there are the ruthless people who take advantage of the Good Samaritans in life. I guess I have learned that I love the the saint and the sinner,I just don’t do the usual thing for me, I don’t allow the the sinner to use me to sin. And I pray for their conversion just like I’m sure that many people prayed for me to come home to this amazing Faith. Sometimes prayer is the kindest act of loving we can offer. Isn’t it

Perhaps it just takes years of living and life experiences; or, maybe I’m just terribly slow to reflect; or, maybe I’ve been too long in survival mode….moving at a great pace, semi-conscious of all the goodness that has come my way. I think…I want to believe…that I’ve never taken the occurrences in my life for granted. But, as I think about the MANY blessings that have come to me throughout my life; I think, ” I could not have survived all these many years had it not been for the hundreds of kindnesses that have been given to me throughout my life.” Some incidents that might be considered so small…hardly noteworthy…yet loom in my mind as huge events because they were gifts of mercy. I loved what Father Pat had to say this morning about the difference in forgiveness and mercy. I am quite certain that I’ve not always been loveable. In my younger years…I think that my “unsureness” might have come across as being flip or arrogant. Yet there were many…some faces and names now gone from memory….who reached out to me; who didn’t bother with whether I was living according to “their” rules; or attempting to figure out whether I was suitable to be helped; but, those who showed mercy and kindness. Each hand, each smile, each word of encouragement
helped me in my journey to becoming a better, more whole human being. Thank you to those in my past and to those in my present who accept me, care for me…. because of and in spite of my many flaws. The gift of kindness…the gift of mercy….thank goodness! I am not burdened with “forgiveness”!!

It is good to be thankful for this great Country we are living in. But we are a spoiled people and forget the blessing of being here. We litter the roadways and waste our resources. We fear sharing it with the less privileged. We fear that it will cost us something, when in true they have so much to offer us in spirit and truth. God opened the gate to His home by the Sacrifice of His Son Jesus on the cross, He welcomes the once sinnful with open arms. He in His wisdom show us that there is always room for love and sharing. When we giving Thanks on these “holidays” do we remember the wonderful hospitality once shown us by the American Natives? Or the reason our people fled to America in the first place, Religious Persecution. So as a people of faith I hope that for at least a few seconds this 4th of July we set down the beer bottle, look at our plates of plenty and silence fire crackers for just a nice prayer to Thank the Father for what we have and ask Him to forgive us or belly aching about what we think we ought to have and dont. With much Love Becky

I truly awaken each day and realize how very fortunate I am.
To wake up to the sound of my coffee maker brewing coffee;
to get up in the middle of the night and know that I have
water; to have work. However, this weekend has weighed heavily upon my heart. It’s not that this is the only time that I’ve had these thoughts; but, perhaps everything has
culminated in a sense of crushing reality because I was not
working…not being busy. I took my German Shepherd for a
very early walk down at River Pointe…along the river. Birds were in “conversation” with one another; ducks were bobbing on the water; tiny flowers were as brilliant and beautiful as their larger neighboring flowers; the leaves
rustled with the wind; the air was sweet and perfumed with
grasses, flowers, water. I couldn’t stop the tears. My heart had such an ache, such pain. I have two friends…one in PA. and one in Watkins, CO. Both live in
beautiful, quiet areas. Places where you feel God present in every sound, every movement of nature. In Watkins, there are many scattered homes; simple dwellings; horses grazing; sometimes one can catch a glimpse of a small herd of deer. Both of these families are facing oil drilling being done near their properties. The “fracking” will ruin their water. They are fearful and hearts are breaking. As I walked this morning, watching Kelly sniffing out myriad scents…I understand all the sorrow we cause this good earth; the heartlessness of a nine year war. I know that we don’t “learn lessons”. We are arrogant and mindless. My tears were for the sorrow of loss…past and continued; and, for the absolute beauty that I experienced this morning. God was with me and Kelly this morning….in the wind, the river, the trees; and, I was grateful and appreciative for the time. Thank you for allowing me to speak MY truth as experienced through my heart.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers and sisters. Amen
Let the peace of Christ control your hearts and let the word of Christ dwell in your richly.
PASS IT ON –Be a missionary where you live and work!

I guess I missed the point of the liturgy totally — I didn’t realize that there was an ecological message in any of the three readings. I thought they were about the abundance of God’s love for all humankind and the fact that eternal life is open to everyone — circumcised (Jews) and uncircumcised (Gentiles) alike. Luke writes that we are to rejoice because our names are written in heaven — we are wanted there. It may be time for me to go back to the Catholic Biblical School to learn to see beyond what is written.

I thought that meant, that those who died without knowing the the word of Christ were dead in spirit and those more cocerned with eathly matter were dead in spirit. those who chose to follow Jesus at any cost were saved and would be alive eternaly. We are told through this reading that God provides us with the means we need to live now and in eternity. For instants when we go into debt to bury someone in a costly funeral we are really doing it for show. many of our Popes have been buried in pine boxes. we put a great price on showmanship and forget that the living need help with their daily needs like food and shelter, or a place to worship and talk to God about the burdens of their hearts. why bury our mony and more so our souls in everyday trivia.

The concept of the resurrection of the dead has always fascinated me. It takes not only faith but also religious imagination to think how we will come back in a glorious state after having been buried. Though I don’t plan on using it for a long while, I purchased my little box to house my remains after being cremated. I want to avoid the expense of a coffin. Thinking that God knows where every ash is as well as every bone is even more amazing to me. It brings me back to a sense of everyday life and to the realization that the God I believe in knows not only the sparrows and me, but every fiber of who I am. And then, when there is nothing left of my body God still knows my soul and can “knit me together” forming me once again as God “formed me in my mother’s womb.”

Jesus is with us in our sorrows and in the deepest, darkest pits, and in the oil spills, the summer solstice, and both the fears and hopes that we cannot even name. Today let us rejoice in the spirit of the Lord. And yes, let us chatter, gossip, and pay attention to the living Christ.

I was raised nominally Methodist and converted to Catholicism as an adult. When I was about eleven years old and in the sixth grade at Columbine Elementary School in Boulder, I made an unkind comment about one of the sixth grade teachers — not my teacher. I began to feel so guilty about the comment. (I truly don’t remember what it was now, but I do know that it was unkind). Nobody told me to do it, but I clearly remember going into the teacher’s room before school one morning and apologizing. She was shocked, I think, but she forgave me. When I walked out of her classroom, I felt so relieved of the burden, and I promised myself that I would never say anything about anyone behind their back that I hadn’t already said to them, or that I wouldn’t be willing to say to their face.

I now believe that the Holy Spirit prompted that little Protestant girl to do the right thing. The teacher must have been similarly prompted. This is my first recollection of a reconciliation process. I think it says something about how powerful is forgiveness when I can remember the feeling 50 years later but have long forgotten the unkind comment!

St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians stresses the transubstantiation that takes place at every Mass. As a successor to the apostles, the priest has the power to change the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ. Sometimes, I get complacent about receiving the Eucharist and forget to remember that it truly is Christ. I am so blessed to be able to receive the Lord every day of the year and to pray that receiving Jesus will help me to become more like him to the people around me. We don’t have a “representation” of Christ in the Eucharist, we have Christ! It’s what makes the Catholic Church the First Church of Christ, period!

Yesterday, nine of our home Bible Study group went to the Turin Shroud Center of Colorado Springs. There I sat in front of a copy of the Shroud of Turin. John Jackson and his wife Rebecca have done many years of research on the Shroud of Turin and he gave a lecture as to why it is believed that this was truly the burial shroud of Jesus. I sat there and saw on the Shroud the face of Jesus with the bleeding wounds from the crown of thorns, the scrouge marks, the nail marks and bleeding from them and bleeding from the spear thrust. I was so glad I went because it makes this feast day so much more touching and vivid. Praise be Jesus Christ now and forever.

Kathy,

Congratulations! I hope you have many readers and reflectors sharing their experiences with scripture each week.

Paul’s letter to the Romans was the reading that struck me at Mass Sunday morning. It is only in times of difficulty (afflictions) that I grow. When things are going smoothly, I tend to relax in satisfaction and try not to rock the boat. Life’s challenges have made me look for the graces God offers to help me. When I accept and welcome those graces, I realize how wonderful is the love of God for all of us, and I can then hope in eternal salvation. I look forward with great anticipation to that which is to come!

Kathy,
So good to hear of your new venture. Thank you so much.
I feel close to each Person of the Trinity at different times as needs arise in my life. But if I had to choose just one Person it would be Jesus.