Breathing through difficult times.

When I was pregnant with our first child, I learned mindful breathing techniques to help with the labor and delivery. Knowing how to breathe through the pain became more important with the birth of our second baby, simply because my labor with her was significantly longer than with the first.

Six months after our second child was born, I was diagnosed with cancer and those breathing skills immediately kicked back in. When the doctor says, “Change of plans, let’s do a biopsy,” there is nothing you can do but take a deep breath. When the doctor calls and, before explaining the test results, asks “Is your husband home with you?” all you can do is breathe. Knowing how to breathe through the pain helped me get through the nasty barium drinks, the physical pain of recovering from surgery, the post-surgical prohibition on picking up my daughters, and the unexpected news that I needed to have radiation and chemotherapy after all.

After a while, I realized that mindful breathing was not just a coping mechanism but it was also a gift. Normal life is very busy and offers few opportunities for quiet reflection. When you are lying on a cold metal table trying not to move during radiation treatment, however, you have the time to be still, and to breathe, and to reach out for God’s presence.

Being hooked up to an IV for 6 or 7 long hours on the chemo days forces you to slow down. I couldn’t go anywhere, but I could sit quietly, breathe deeply, and take the time to recognize and appreciate God’s grace, which was manifested in the love and kindness shown by my family and friends and by the nurses and volunteers.

It has been almost three months since I completed my treatment. My first post-treatment test came back clean and my life is mostly back to normal. Now, my challenge is to create space in my normal life where I can capture some of the stillness that was imposed on me while I was undergoing treatment in order to, again, focus on my breathing and, in those breaths, feel the enduring presence and strength of God.

Erin Choquette

The Place Called "I Know"

Patty A. shares her spiritual journey of recovery.

There is a place beyond “I Believe.” It is a place called “I Know.”

You can get to “I Believe” through the experience of others. You go to meetings, for coffee, to church basements. You listen to stories, you identify, you trust and so you believe.

But that place beyond “I Believe”, that place called “I Know”, can only come from within. It is a result of your own experience, of living on the edge, on the threshold. It is a place where you can taste your own death.

“I Know” is the “inside job” that I kept hearing about. “I know” is beyond sobriety. It is a place where you are finally attached, at the hip, at the head, at the heart, to God. It is a place of quiet, a place of peace, a place of comfort, a place of safety. But now, instead of having the covers over your head, you feel all of this in the light of day with everything whirling around you.

I know –
•That there is NOTHING that I cannot handle today, as long as I stay connected with God. I have faced my greatest fear; I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death and I am here to say that you can survive it.
•I know that there is nothing worth drinking over.
•I know that there is nothing that a drink cannot make worse.
•I know that if you hold onto this program and to your Higher Power, you can pass over the threshold into the place of peace.
•I know that what doesn’t kill you WILL make you stronger.
•I know that my priorities are, in this order: my connection with God, my sobriety, and my relationships with those around me.
•I know that people are not gods, or even demigods. They are human and they will fail you.
•I know that God will never fail you. Even in the times of greatest pain, He is holding you and loving you. What you feel is Him carefully chiseling down the walls that are keeping you from Him.
•I know that God will not “render you white as snow unless you fully cooperate with Him.”
•I know that it is unhealthy for me to judge myself by what I perceive others think of me.
•I know that if I lay my head on my pillow tonight without alcohol in my body, it’s been a pretty good day.
•I know that I know longer “need to know.” Knowledge will not save me, trust in God will.

I wonder if there is a place beyond “I Know”? Is it the place called “I Am”?

The Challenge of Pentecost

by Bill Walsh

From John’s gospel on Pentecost Sunday we read that Jesus did three things when he greeted his fearful disciples in that locked room. He offered them peace. He breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” And then he said, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and who’s sins you retain are retained.”

Jesus could have said, “Peace be with you” and “Receive the Holy Spirit” to the crowd of disciples all at once, but scripture also says that he breathed on them. It would be comical if he tried breathing on all of them at once, like blowing out the candles on a birthday cake. Instead, he must have slowly and deliberately moved through the gathering, talking with each person so intimately that his breath touched the person receiving his words. How comforting that moment must have been for each disciple. I can only imagine that Jesus confidently and gently extinguished the fear in that room person by person.

That moment in the locked room defined Pentecost for us. Jesus offered his disciples the gift of the Holy Spirit and God’s peace, and he wanted them to bring that peace to a world overwhelmed by the power of fear, a fear that leads to the evil of this world. We are all broken, we are all flawed, and we all need to be forgiven. Sometimes, though, we don’t think that we deserve to be forgiven. We think that our actions have been too hurtful for forgiveness. And sometimes, in our arrogance, we don’t think that we need to be forgiven, and we refuse to admit how we have failed.

Everyone needs to feel forgiven. Everyone needs to know the healing power of forgiveness that frees us from our fear. Everyone needs to be freed from the evil that we do when we don’t feel forgiven. What if Jesus wasn’t giving his disciples the authority to choose whose sins should be forgiven and whose sins should be retained? What if he was commanding them to forgive everyone, because anyone who did not feel forgiven would remain trapped in his fear? And it is fear that generates the evil in this world.

Does forgiveness have healing power? Do we trust in that power? If we do, then our evangelical calling should be to bring God’s healing power of forgiveness to everyone, because it is through forgiveness that we will come to know God’s peace. We are called to go out into the world confidently and gently offering God‘s peace to each person we meet. Maybe we are called to extinguish the fear and evil in this world by teaching forgiveness to one person at a time?

Only for Today

Judy George

Little did I know that the day following the January 25-27 “Only for Today” women’s retreat that I would be sitting at my mother’s bedside escorting her into eternity. I want very much to communicate to you how incredibly important the retreat experience became for me during this time.

I kept a journal of sorts during those days relating the retreat to the experiences of January 28 when my mother was rushed unresponsive with virtually no pulse to the hospital to February 2 when she passed away. I’d like to share some thoughts from that time with you.

January 29 – One has to go alone (die) clearly but they do not have to be alone as they go, that’s why I’m here knitting, talking once in awhile but working really hard on being just here just now. I and we will continue this vigil throughout whatever this experience turns out to be. “Only for today, I will adapt to circumstances, without requiring all circumstances to be adapted to my own wishes.”

I’m trying to do now well whatever that means to me in this moment.

People do the best that they can. I am an optimist and know no other way to believe. So I will think about the good things. “I want to be kind, today and always, to everyone.”

My mother taught me to knit. For me knitting has become so much more than a hobby. It foundates my beliefs about spirit and life. The weaving, the texture, the color, the simplicity of two stitches with endless possibilities astounds me continually with life lessons as I work.

January 30 – “It’s not the what of now, it’s the how of now” that keeps me soft, aware of the feelings of others and working hard at inclusion of family members as we make difficult and irreversible decisions.

Consensus as to what next is still forming but in the midst of this very real time of life I am here, now. “The way through it is the way through it.”

January 31 – I wrote my mother’s obituary today. It seems so morbid to be doing this while she’s still alive but this is, no doubt, a one way street and I want to do this well. Almost an afterthought turns out to be what I really wanted to say. “Throughout her life Edna was a voracious reader and until the last few years produced a seemingly endless stream of mittens, sweaters, afghans, oil paintings, watercolors and ceramic pieces.” The meaning for me is that although Mom was unable to engage in words or actions of love and affirmation perhaps her way was to share the products of her creativity.

February 1 – A very hard day. The hospital cannot keep Mom. I broke down and sobbed. The thought of her taking an ambulance ride, the discomfort, the lurching, the cold of the day is just more than I can handle. One of us can go with her and it will be me. I will be present. “Only for today, I will firmly believe, despite appearances, that the good providence of God cares for me as no one else who exists in this world.”

February 2 – My mother died today. My brother, his wife and a priest were with her. As my brother tells it, as the priest’s prayer ended decades of age fell from my mother’s face, her skin glowed and she smiled as if seeing the very one she had waited her entire life to see and then with the final amen, she was gone.

Clearly the story does not end here but suffice it to say that when I registered for the retreat I did so simply because it sounded intriguing, when I attended the retreat I enjoyed it greatly but experienced no great movement or revelation but thanks to the retreat “all things worked together” and I was able to come from a deeply peaceful place to share my mother’s last days. Thank you and may God continue to bless the work of your ministry.

Momentum

Theresa Wiss











Everyone enjoys a good roll- the times in our life when everything seems to fall into place. When the pieces of our lives fit together nicely and neatly creating a pleasant picture. When we seem to catch all the “lucky” breaks and we’re riding high on a wave. Ah, yes, life is sweet from that vantage point – full of optimism, feel-good moments and great expectations for the future.

If only these days, weeks, months, even years could last forever. Much to our dismay these “good times” are interrupted, diminished, overshadowed, disfigured or sometimes smashed. Instead, we face cancer, the death of a child, a foreclosure, a divorce, or a job loss. Suddenly, our wondrous wave comes crashing to the shore. Our perfect picture is shattered into pieces.

We find ourselves overwhelmed with grief during these times, experiencing a deep sense of loss and questioning the meaning of life. Where did all our “good times” go?

As we move through the circumstances of our loss- whatever the particulars may be – we make an effort to pick ourselves up, tend to our wounds, and look for ways to return to the “good times”. But things aren’t the way they were before – life is not unchanging.

Life is made up of good times and difficult times and lots of experiences in between. Change, loss, and death are all part of life. To imagine a life without these parts is to imagine a world other than the world we live in. To live in the fantasy of a world where only “good times” happen to get away from my immediate experience of pain, I have to question what reality I’m really living in.

Finding our way during difficult times is prickly and painstakingly slow. Lately, it has occurred to me that the hardest part is recapturing momentum – re-establishing a rhythm in my daily life. It’s a wonderful feeling to face the day with energy, clarity and purpose. Without the thrust of momentum, it feels impossible to sustain feelings of peace and a sense of hope. This would be impossible if we were truly alone. The truth is, of course, is that we are not alone. We don’t have to rely on our own petty strength. God is with us and will sustain us. God is the wind under our wings and the One who puts the spring back in our step.

Live the Challenge

Fr. John Baptist Pesce, C.P.

The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy of the Second Vatican Council is an immense help in profiting from Lent which the Church terms “this great season of grace” (Preface for Lent II) when in the chapter on the liturgical year, we are given the words:

The season of Lent has a twofold character: primarily by recalling or preparing for baptism and by penance, it disposes the faithful, who more diligently hear the word of God and devote themselves to prayer to celebrate the paschal mystery.

The emphasis is on the celebration of the central mystery of our faith, the paschal mystery, the passion unto death, resurrection and ascension of the Lord Jesus. While it is true that every Christian liturgy celebrates the paschal mystery (especially in the Eucharist), Lent memorializes this in a unique fashion and receives its culmination in the Easter Triduum.

The paschal mystery is, in the first place, the mystery of Christ but, as Blessed Abbot Columba Marmion highlighted many years ago, the mystery of Christ passes into our lives. The mystery of Christ becomes the mystery of Christians. Baptism initiates us into the paschal mystery. The responsibility of disciples of Jesus is to live out that mystery in their daily lives. By the paschal mystery, Jesus by dying destroyed our death and by rising restored our life. Now we are to continue that process and thus build up the body of Christ which is the Church.

The discipline of Lent: the more diligent hearing of the word of God (as expressed in the above quote – “diligent hearing” obviously includes, although unstated, quiet reflection on that word), the penitential elements (which, for the most part the Church leaves us to determine for ourselves), the dedication to prayer and service to others, in particular the needy and marginalized which is very much encouraged during “this great season of grace” – all have as their goal to empty us of our self-absorption and open us up more and more to being possessed by God and transformed into Christ. In this process, the Church proclaims the paschal mystery and with our grace-cooperation accomplishes it.
We die ever more completely to sin and live more fully unto God.

It is because the Church never takes our eyes off of the goal of Lent that the Church terms Lent “this joyful season of Lent” (Preface for Lent I). But how many of us associate Lent with joy? The Church sees Lent, “God’s gift to your family,” as a “joyful season” because the Church knows from experience that this grace-filled season has the power of the Spirit to transform believers more and more into the image of the Lord crucified and risen from the dead and thereby to enable the Church to fulfill the mission given by the Lord, expressed by the Church thus “to render God the Father and his incarnate Son present and as it were visible [in the world]” (CMW, 21). Lent, entered into in an active, generous and intelligent fashion, enables the Church to be what the Lord Jesus intended, a visible sign, a sacrament, of God. There is, indeed, reason to rejoice in this.

Accept the gift. Live the challenge. Experience the joy as you with the community of believers contribute to the design of God.

In Hope We are Saved

Fr. David Cinquegrani, C.P.

My trip home at Christmastime found me delayed in the Detroit Metro Airport for five long hours. Just enough time to read and ponder Pope Benedict XVI's new encyclical Spes Salvi (In Hope We Are Saved). The Latin title comes fromthe words in Romans 8:24 ("For in hope we are saved") and leads the reader into the understanding that without faith in God, the human race falls into despair and so can be capable of cruelty and injustice, but with hope, can be capable of almost any good and generous act. Benedict centers on the revelation of God in Jesus Christ but asserts that we put too much emphasis on personal salvation and not enough on the communal nature of redemption and what we must do for people around us as part of our moral obligation as Christians.

To bring these points home, the Pope, in this 76 page document, reviews the lives of saints from various times in history. Unfortunately, he did not include any lay persons in his examples of heroic Christians, though we all know many in our lives. As I sat in the airport, I watched intently as a family with three children, one of whom had Downs Syndrome, tried to pass the five hours in patient waiting. The love between and among them gave me a personal example of hope and reminded me that God is alive in each one of us and can be recognized easily by those who are searching.