Kathryn Griffin Swegart's Blog, page 4

Miracle at the Grocery Store

Christmas was three days away and the state of Maine was under siege. A mini hurricane blindsided the state, blowing down thousands of trees, thrashing unsuspecting citizens with torrential downpours, damns near bursting, evacuations, mudslides, and power outrages that threw 400,000 Mainers into the dark.

Food shopping became an adventure. I entered Shaw’s Supermarket with cash in hand, ready to buy the Christmas ham. Rumors spread that the cash registers were off-line, slowing transactions, and creating long lines. I stood in line waiting my turn. I noticed that the young cashier was frazzled by the slow working of the register.

Three people were in front of me. The first lady in line did not have enough cash and started to put some of her purchases to one side. Suddenly, the second person in line leaped to her aid.

“Here, take this twenty-dollar bill and buy what you need,” she said.

“Are you sure?” inquired the first lady, acting a bit stunned. 

The second lady smiled and nodded.

The exasperated cashier watched the encounter. She slammed her hands on the counter and proclaimed loudly, “I knew there was going to be a Christmas miracle today!”

We all were startled by the outburst. 

I asked, “Did you tell people that you thought there would be a Christmas miracle today?”

“Yes, I did, “she said definitively.

We all smiled.

Amid a trying week for Mainers, this simple act of charity brightened up our day, giving us hope that human kindness was alive and well, even at your local grocery store.

[image error]

The post Miracle at the Grocery Store first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

What the Little Boy Said

It was to be just an ordinary evening, or so he thought. Time to bring wood in for the stove. Perhaps he could snatch a little time for himself, briefly away from his busy family. Finnian, his little shadow, had other ideas. The good father could not resist those bright blue eyes, alive with curiosity.

Out they ventured into the brisk night air, the sky filled with stars, sparkling against a black canopy. Finnian looked up and for the first time in his two years of life he saw stars.

“Make them stay,” he said to Daddy.

I imagine that the father gave his son a hug and forgot about gathering wood. He looked up and marveled at a masterpiece, beautiful beyond comprehension.

Only human beings can gaze in wonder at the stars. James Schall, a priest and philosopher, once wrote, “Our minds are open to a reality that is not ourselves; in fact, we stand in wonder and amazement at what is not ourselves.”

In some tiny way, Finnian ‘s heart leaped at the sight of stars, hard-wired to sense the transcendent nature of our world, filled with miracles. We must only pause and gaze.

Psalm 46 urges us to “be still and know that I am God.”

Advent is upon us, and we will be advised not to be ensnared by this busy season in preparation for Christmas. Maybe that is not as difficult as we might imagine. Simply pause and appreciate a crescent moon or the constellation Orion standing guard over the rooftops. You may even look beyond the stars and feel your heart quiver, just a bit, knowing that God loves us beyond our wildest imagination.

The post What the Little Boy Said first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

Radical Thanksgiving

One brilliant autumn afternoon I turned by face to the sun and felt its warmth, drinking it in, as New Englanders do, knowing that winter snows would soon beat upon us. I do not take this sunny day for granted. I am standing in the middle of a football field exhilarated by the presence of my sons, daughter-in-law, and four of my eleven grandchildren. I see my grandson toss a toy airplane and watch it do double loops. My granddaughter just keeps swinging, announcing that she is just too happy to stop. My son helps his 6-year old son learn to fly a kite.

Patiently, my son shows him how to hold the kite, to keep running, and watch as it sails in the sky. Kite flying begins with many false starts. Still, the good father gently persists. Some readers might perceive this moment to be of small importance. After all, fathers often teach sons about the fine skill of kite flying. Be assured, this moment is special. I am about to witness a moment of radical thanksgiving.

The little boy I now watch run down the field with kite soaring overhead could not always run and play in the sunshine. In his early years, the child spent many months in a hospital, often confined to a crib. Periodically, his parents helped him walk down the hospital corridor. He wore a hospital gown and wobbled along, determined to get strong.

On that recent glorious fall day, I reminisced with my son about how far we all had come as a family.

My son agreed. “Back in the hospital, I dreamed of days like these.”

I realized that it is necessary to cultivate a spirit of gratitude, “to keep my eyes open and my spirit alert … to live in continual thanksgiving.”

Such are the words of Venerable Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan. In a remarkable litany of gratitude, Cardinal Thuan felt overwhelmed by the gift of his birth, by the labors of his father, by priests who gave him the Eucharist, for being Vietnamese, and for “the people whom place obstacles in my path and cause me trouble; they help me to become holy.”

Dig deeper on that last one. What obstacles? He was imprisoned by the Vietnamese government for thirteen years, nine of those years were spent in solitary confinement.

Never again will I complain about anything.

The post Radical Thanksgiving first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

Father Browne’s Saving Grace

 

How blessed I was this summer to visit Ireland with my husband. We joined 22 other Americans on a Catholic pilgrimage, visiting towering cathedrals and the crumbling ruins of monasteries and castles.

One of my favorite stops was the coastal village of Cobh, famed as the last stop of the ill-fated Titanic on her maiden voyage. Situated near the pier is a small museum filled with photos of the ship, depicting life aboard the luxury ship. To my surprise, I learned that these rare photos of the Titanic were taken by a Jesuit priest, Father Francis Browne. 

The discovery of his photos is a story in itself. Browne’s negatives were hidden away until 1985: seventy-three years after the Titanic hit an iceberg and sank. More than fifteen hundred passengers perished in the disaster. 

The details are fuzzy regarding the discovery of the photographic negatives. Another priest named Eddie O’Connell rummaged through an basement in Dublin. I doubt he was looking for treasure. He opened a trunk and found 40,000 negatives, among them were images depicting the Titanic in all its glory.

Father Browne was a gifted photographer who cruised on the majestic vessel from Southampton, England to Cobh, Ireland. His photos captured life aboard ship. It truly was a floating palace.  Musicians played as patrons waltzed. It had a workout room complete with a rowing machine. Sitting rooms were adorned with pillars and oriental rugs.

  During that short trip, Father Browne dined with a wealthy American couple. Evidently, they were charmed by Father Browne and offered to pay his fare for a vacation in America. Eager to accept their invitation, he climbed below deck to the Marconi room and sent a telegraph to his superior, asking permission to make a trans-Atlantic voyage on the Titanic.

His answer came a short time later. Mail bags were ferried in a small boat out to the luxury ship anchored in the harbor. Inside the bag was a message for the priest. It read, “’Get off that ship. -the Provincial’”.

Now if that was not good advice, I can’t imagine what else would qualify. Father Browne gathered up his bags, thanked the American couple for their generous offer and returned to shore. Four days later the Titanic slammed into an iceberg and sank.

I will always remember Father Browne’s story. How well it illustrates the importance of following the guidance of respected friends, family members, and colleagues. Father Browne surely was disappointed that he could not engage in an oceanic adventure. He might have even sighed as he reluctantly left the ship. Notice that he did not question the note. He simply obeyed.

Father Francis Browne believed that obedience saved his life. How do we know? He folded up the message from his superior and kept it in his wallet for the rest of his life.

The post Father Browne’s Saving Grace first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

The Mystery of Our Lady of Knock

In this third installment of our pilgrimage through Ireland, we head north to the remote village of Knock in central Ireland, past fields where sheep peacefully graze in lush green pastures. 

The Gaelic word for Knock is Noc which means hill. It was here on August 21, 1879 that a small group of poor Irish peasants witnessed an apparition shrouded in mystery. 

Heavy rain beat down on the housekeeper at St. John the Baptist Church. It was evening and Mary McLoughlin was eager to warm herself by sipping a hot cup of tea with her friend widow Byrne. All was normal until a strange sight materialized under the black skies. White glowing figures pierced the night. Mary figured that the pastor, Father Cavanaugh, had bought statues and had not mentioned it to her. She kept walking to widow Byrne’s cottage. Upon her arrival, Mary told her friend about the statues (or so she thought). They decided to investigate. Widow Byrne sent her daughter, Mary, along to accompany Mary McLoughlin.

Upon arrival at the church, the two women got a clear view of the figures. Not only were they glowing, but they also were moving. Before their eyes were St. Joseph, Our Lady, St. John the Evangelist holding a bible, and an altar, a lamb, and a cross. Angels hovered over the altar. Mary Byrne sounded the alarm, knocking on doors to gather more witnesses. Twenty-five people stood in the downpour to pray the rosary. It was a silent apparition that lasted three hours. 

The faithful have puzzled over the apparition at Knock. Why was it silent? Why did they choose Knock? Many have speculated that it was to comfort the oppressed Catholics of Ireland who suffered under British rule. More than a million Irish Catholics died in the potato famine that lasted from 1845-1847. 

Look more closely at this story and you will find another clue to this mystery. 

Father Cavanaugh, pastor at the church, was deeply troubled that so many Irish died in the famine without receiving the Last Rites of the Church. He decided to say one hundred Masses for the repose of these souls. When do you think he said the final Mass? That’s right. He offered the last Mass on August 21: the day the apparition appeared.

The humble village of Knock is now a major pilgrimage site and has been approved by the Church. This unusual apparition is a Marian apparition but also a Eucharistic miracle, for the lamb is a symbol of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

The post The Mystery of Our Lady of Knock first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

Whispers from the Grave

On the first day of our pilgrimage to Ireland, our bus rolled into the parking lot at Glendalough, an early medieval monastic settlement built in the 6th century by St. Kevin.

The landscape of western Ireland is dotted with sheep, stone walls, and monastic ruins. Among the architectural wonders are round towers built hundreds of years ago by monks using limestone from local quarries.

I wandered through the cemeteries, reading messages etched on gravestones. It felt like the dead were talking to me, asking for my prayers. All the markers faced toward the east in expectation for the Second Coming of Jesus at the end of time. Never had a walk among gravestones conveyed this powerful feeling. Cemeteries are a place of waiting. One day Jesus will come again and there will be a resurrection of the dead.

Every Sunday I say the Nicene Creed in which I express my belief in the resurrection of the dead. Have I really thought about what that means?

The resurrection of the dead will precede the Last Judgment. Here is what the Catechism says.

This will be the hour when all who are in the tombs will hear the Son of man’s voice and come forth, those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment.”

Imagine what these holy grounds looked like back in the heyday of St. Kevin’s monastery. It was a bustling community of workshops, guesthouses, an infirmary, farm buildings and dwellings for monks and a large lay population.

Now they all lay buried, waiting for the sound of trumpets at the Second Coming.

The post Whispers from the Grave first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

“If You ever Go Across the Sea to Ireland…”

Hundreds of miles off the coast of Ireland, I felt our Delta jet rumble and drop rapidly in altitude as we approached Dublin Airport. It was a golden sunrise over the patchwork of pastures bordering the Irish Sea. Thoughts of Irish ancestors flooded my mind. More than a hundred years had passed since the Griffins, O’Briens, Murrays, and Keatings fled the ravages of a deadly potato famine and landed in the hostile environment of Puritanical Boston. Now I had returned for a tour of the Irish Republic along with 23 other pilgrims. We were blessed to have a young priest, Father Brian Morris, as our spiritual director.

Whisked away on a 50-seat bus, our delightful and knowledgeable tour guide, Ann, enlightened us to the history of Dublin. Soon into the ride I saw statues honoring victims of the Great Famine.  Dedicated in 1997, the Dublin Famine Memorial is a haunting reminder of the disaster that overtook the Irish people. The six large figures are scrawny and ragged as they stumble toward the ship that will take them to a new life in America.

During the Great Hunger (1845-1852), one million people starved to death and another million immigrated, many to America. The population of Ireland declined from 8 million to 4 million.

On Friday of our tour, we arrived in Galway. We visited Croagh Patrick (Saint Patrick’s Holy Mountain), where the famous saint fasted for the 40 days of Lent in the year 441. A short distance away is another memorial to victims of the famine. The National Famine Monument, dedicated in 1997, is the largest bronze sculpture in Ireland. As I stood under the shadow of the ship, I was moved by this somber work of art, entitled The Coffin Ship, that depicts immigrants as skeletal bodies.

What happened next on this tour? Well of course, we all went into Campbell’s Pub where the Guinness flowed and spirits were uplifted, inspired by the courage and faith of our ancestors, gone but not forgotten.

The post “If You ever Go Across the Sea to Ireland…” first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

The Real Miss Rumphius

An old woman ambled down a dirt road from her cottage on Christmas Cove along the coast of Maine. Hilda Hamlin was her name and she had a secret. It was a secret kept in her pocket. Now on her way back from the post office, she fumbled in her pocket for little treasures brought back from her native England. In one sweep of her hand, she cast lupine seeds to her left then to her right. A quiver of homesickness stirred inside her as she thought of Bristol, England and the life she left behind at age fifteen. Somehow the lupine made her feel at home in this land across the sea. No one had to know about this little hobby.

In early summer, lupine sprouted in her backyard and along roadsides, tall plants with blue, purple, rose and white flowers. Neighbors noticed and scooped up seeds from Lupine stalks to plant in their yards. Soon, Lupine covered the fields in this tranquil village. Hilda became known as the Lupine lady. Years later, Hilda’s story came to the attention of woman who also lived on the Maine coast.

Twenty miles down the road in Damariscotta, Barbara Cooney heard the story of Hilda Hamlin. Seeds of a story grew. Cooney, a renowned writer and illustrator, retreated to her study and began to write. A character formed in her mind. Cooney named her Miss Rumphius, an old woman who traveled the world and settled in a cottage by the sea. Miss Rumphius looked out about the sparkling waters and remembered words told to her as a child. 

“You must do something to make the world more beautiful,” said her uncle.

Miss Rumphius procured lupine seeds and trod the meadows and roadsides planting seeds. Children gathered at her feet and listened to the old woman tell of her long life and her many adventures. They left with lupine seeds in their pockets.

Barbara Cooney’s book, Miss Rumphius became a classic in children’s literature, awarded the prestigious National book award in 1983.

 Hilda Hamlin died before the publication of Miss Rumphius. I think that she would have been surprised that her little secret became known to thousands of young readers around the world, inspiring them to make the world more beautiful.

The post The Real Miss Rumphius first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

Miraculous II

In the summer of 2015, I sat at my computer pondering a writing project. Children’s literature has a special place in my heart. Perhaps I could write stories for children that would inspire and entertain. I glanced at a book loaned to me by a neighbor – The Eucharistic Miracles of the World. The book revealed that there were many different types of Eucharistic miracles. So, I began to write…ten stories in three months (later I added two more). John Folley created an original watercolor cover for Heavenly Hosts: Eucharistic Miracles for Kids. Busy with family matters and employment, several years passed before I finally self-published, uploading the book on Amazon in the fall of 2018.

Would anybody buy it?

By April of 2019, Heavenly Hosts was #1 in Roman Catholic Bestsellers. Stories based on actual Eucharistic miracles were the perfect way to introduce the Real Presence to children. Encouraged by the response, I kept writing. To date I have written five more books, garnering an award from the Catholic Media Association and the Seal of Approval from the Catholic Writers Guild. God had a plan and by his grace I was able to respond.

Now I am working on Miraculous II. Once again it will be ten short stories suitable for ages seven and up. Young readers will learn about four Marian apparitions, the seldom told story of the discovery of St. Peter’s tomb, the stigmata of St. Francis of Assisi, and more.

Once again, I will be blessed to have the talented artist John Folley create the artwork. Look for publication in late fall.

Thanks to the thousands of loyal readers who have bought these books. I pray that in some small way the faith of families will grow by the heroic figures portrayed in my books.

The post Miraculous II first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.

Song of the Humpback Whale

Deep beneath the vast expanse of oceans, humpback whales glide through dark waters in search of food and mates. Biologists have long listened to the mysterious sounds emanating from these giant mammals. Moans and groans and cries emit otherworldly emotions. Recently scientists have discovered surprising changes in their songs.

Australian scientists have recorded fewer wails, sparking speculation about the cause. 

University of Queensland marine biologist Rebecca Dunlap commented on the phenomenon. She points to successful conservation efforts that halted commercial whaling. Whale populations rebounded from near extinction in the 1960’s to a robust 27,000 in 2015.

Dunlap tracked the frequency of whale cries: “It was getting more difficult to find singers. When there were fewer of them, there was a lot of singing. Now that there are lots of them, no need to be singing much.”

Was the wail of the humpback a cry of loneliness? Do our hearts cry out with loneliness? Indeed, it is part of our human condition.

Writer Elizabeth Elliot contemplated this notion.

Loneliness comes over us sometimes as a sudden tide. It is one of the terms of our humanness, and, in a sense, therefore, incurable. Yet I have found peace in my loneliest times not only through acceptance of the situation but through making it an offering to God, who can transfigure it into something for the good of others. 

Like the humpback whale that roams deep waters, we roam this earth in search of friendships, pilgrims in a foreign land, restless until we find the one true God.

The post Song of the Humpback Whale first appeared on Kathryn Swegart.