Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 31

I’ve got white candles and I’m not afraid to use them

In these parts, throat blessings are hard to come by. No, make that near impossible. It’s just not done. At least not at our parish. So years ago I took it upon myself to do the blessings. And, yes, that’s allowed. The first time I blessed throats for my class of fourth-grade faith formation students, they looked at me in fear and asked if I was going to light those candles before holding them up to their throats. Ah, how sad that these kids don’t know some of the more interesting traditions of our faith. But once I told them about St. Blaise, a bishop and martyr who is said to have healed a boy who was choking on a fish bone, they were all in, and eagerly so.

So if you, like me, can’t find a priest to bless your throat, you just need two white candles, and if you’re able, a small red ribbon to tie them together. Form a cross with the candles, place them (unlit, of course) on the throat of your spouse or child or whoever else is willing to let you do this, and follow these instructions from the Book of Blessings:

1634 A lay minister touches the throat of each person with the crossed candles and, without making the sign of the cross, says the prayer of blessing.

Through the intercession of Saint Blaise, bishop and martyr, may God deliver you from every disease of the throat and from every other illness.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Each person responds: Amen.

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Start talking: Real communication in a virtual world

Put your hands up and step away from the screen. That’s the Cliff Notes version of Pope Francis’ message for World Communications Day. Okay, I may be taking some liberties, but that’s definitely the general idea, and I couldn’t agree more, even if I am terribly addicted to all of my various screens.

The pope’s message and related comments from Archbishop Claudio Maria Celli, president of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, are spot on, and I’m not just saying that because they affirm what I wrote in my book Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship or in numerous columns and articles on parenting, marriage, and life in general.

Real communication, real relationships cannot remain in the virtual world — whether we’re talking about family members living in the same house or dear friends living across the country. That important truth was at the heart of Walking Together, and it’s something we have to take seriously as digital communication rapidly replaces any and almost all face-to-face or verbal communication in our day-to-day interactions.

I can tell you that on any given day at my home office, I may “talk” to dozens of people via Facebook, Twitter, texting, and email, but I don’t actually speak or visit with anyone outside of my immediate family. And, even then, all five of us are often glued to our various screens at home. Just this afternoon Olivia, my 14-year-old, was texting me from the dressing room at H&M. I was not at home; I was standing about 20 feet away in the store. She has also been known to text me from the chair two feet away on our backyard deck. Clearly we need an intervention, so I know of what I speak.

Although virtual communication allows us to stay connected to friends and relatives who might otherwise be lost to us, real communication has to be intentional these days or it threatens to disappear into the digital void.

“Today the modern media, which are an essential part of life for young people in particular, can be both a help and a hindrance to communication in and between families. The media can be a hindrance if they become a way to avoid listening to others, to evade physical contact, to fill up every moment of silence and rest, so that we forget that ‘silence is an integral element of communication; in its absence, words rich in content cannot exist'” Pope Francis writes in his message, “Communicating the Family: A Privileged Place of Encounter with the Gift of Love.”

Archbishop Celli, during a related presentation, added: “The risk is that I’m an expert in technology but I am not an expert in humanity. So it’s a capacity of listening, of being open, of sharing….Today fathers and mothers are involved in so many things, they are so busy, but who is teaching the kids? (Who is teaching them) to be present in a human way and to have a real dialogue, real human communication with others, if we are not teaching them?” he asked.

Back when I wrote Walking Together, I focused on the fact that our first friendships are those we share with our parents and siblings. In our childhood home we learn how to communicate — for better or for worse, and what we learn there serves as the foundation for future relationships and communication. Think of your family growing up, your family now. Is the communication method and style different? What about friendships? Do you still get together with friends in person or talk on the phone, or is it all done via email and texting and Facebook?

In the opening pages of Walking Together, I address the same problems and concerns Pope Francis raises in this year’s World Communications Day message. Here’s what I wrote back in 2010:

“The very technology that is supposed to make our lives so much easier and so much more integrated is, in actuality, cutting us off from face-to-face contact, leaving us with mostly virtual relationships that may supply superficial satisfaction but never feed our deeper need for something that touches the heart and soul.

“In some ways it would seem impossible to be isolated in this modern-day world. Even on vacation, we are usually plugged into a mind-numbing array of people, places, and social networking websites that allow us to occupy every free second of our harried lives. The problem is that despite all our ‘favorites” and ‘buddies’ out there in the land of plenty, we are hungry for real connection.”

What’s one thing you can do today to make your daily communication and connection with family and friends more meaningful, more real? I dare you to write a letter — a handwritten, on-stationery, take-it-to-the-post-office letter. Whoever is on the receiving end will be thrilled, trust me.

I’ll be talking about the importance of real and regular communication on the Morning Air Show on Relevant Radio Friday, Jan. 30, at 9:30 a.m. Eastern time. In the New York metropolitan area, tune in at 1460 AM, or listen live online by clicking HERE.

For more information on Walking Together, click HERE.

For the full text of the pope’s World Communications Day message, click HERE.

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Some advice never gets old

Whenever I give my retreat talk titled “Broken, Beautiful, and Beloved: Learning to See Ourselves through God’s Eyes” (last weekend, for example), I quote St. Francis de Sales twice. Actually, I quote St. Francis de Sales a lot in my life — in posts, in books, in columns, in workshops, but in this particular talk I quote him twice. This 17th century bishop had so much to say that remains incredibly relevant to our 21st century lives.

St. Francis de Sales is one of my all-time favorites, and today is his feast day, so I thought I would share the two quotes from my retreat talk on brokenness because St. Francis has a lot to say about accepting our brokenness and learning to be who we are meant to be without a whole lot of angst and misery over what we’re not.

“Do not wish to be anything but what you are, and try to be that perfectly.”

Easier said than done, right? But, still, great advice, and if we saw it on scrolling by on Facebook or Pinterest from some New Age guru or, say, Oprah, we’d probably think: YES! But somehow coming from a 17th century Catholic bishop, we give it less credence, or don’t pay any attention to it at all. What can he have to say that could possibly mean anything to me? A lot, as it turns out.

Here’s my other favorite:

“Our perfection consists of struggling against our imperfection. Think of the time before you were born. Where was your soul then? The world existed, but it saw nothing of you.

“God pulled you out of that void and made you who you are out of his own goodness.

“Think of the possibilities God has placed in you.”

So, today, on the Feast of St. Francis de Sales, reflect on these two pieces of timeless wisdom and consider what possibilities God has placed in you.

Oh, today also happens to be the SEVENTH anniversary of this blog. How did that happen?!? I kicked off Not Strictly Spiritual on the Feast of St. Francis de Sales since he is the patron saint of writers. Yet another reason I love St. Francis. Click HERE to read my very first blog post, which happens to include my favorite prayer by St. Francis de Sales.

 

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Wisdom Wednesday: You know how to be brave

The song “Colours” by Margo Rey has been a favorite on my iTunes play list for quite a while now, but last weekend’s Christian Mothers’ Retreat in Syracuse was the first time I wove the song into one of my presentations. It was a hit, as I guessed it would be. Quite a few women came up to me after my talk and asked for the song’s title and artist. I knew it would tie in perfectly with a religious retreat despite the fact that it is a secular song because it speaks to the heart and to something I think so many women confront in their lives: learning to love themselves for who they are and to step into their own skin once and for all and be brave, no matter what may or may not be going on in the background or center stage of their lives, no matter how they think they’ve failed, no matter what the outside world pushes them to be.

So here are the words, or at least some of them, and the YouTube clip. Now go, and be brave.

I close my eyes and tell myself

when I feel judged by someone else

that love, love, love

begins with me.

I dig in deep and must reveal

the secret for me heart to heal

no lies, lies, lies

or make believe.

But my stones and sticks

I pitch ‘em quick

and get in the way of myself again.

And then I say,

I am not afraid.

I know how to be brave,

and in the best and worst of times

my colours never fade.

Bitter words can’t stain,

wash out or strip away,

’cause in a million shades of gray

my colours never fade. — Margo Rey

 

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Manic Monday: Oh, wait. It’s Twisted Tuesday.

Headline says it all. It’s going to be one of THOSE weeks. Between my out-of-town travel for a weekend retreat and the holiday for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I am totally thrown off. I’d like to put out a blanket apology for any appointments or events I miss today — or this week — because it’s going to happen. I will be one day off until next Monday. So here’s how things stand on this Twisted Tuesday.

Bookshelf: I finally have my own hardcover copy of Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, which kept surfacing and resurfacing in my life until I finally figured I should borrow it from the library. After one renewal and lots of notes, I decided that this was one to have on my shelf for handy reference and so Dennis can read it when I’m done. Good book about doing what’s most important in life, not setting a long list of priorities that make everything equally important but picking the ONE thing at that moment that is MOST important. Hard to do because it always means a trade-off or a sacrifice.

GPS: I was blessed to be the leader/speaker of the 22nd annual Christian Mothers’ Retreat at Christ the King Retreat House in Syracuse this weekend. Our topic was my favorite: “Broken, Beautiful, and Beloved: Learning to See Ourselves through God’s Eyes,” and, as always, I got more than I gave. At least from my perspective. What a wonderful group of women and so inspiring. They started this retreat on their own 22 years ago with no parish or diocesan or organizing group as a sponsor. Just a bunch of moms who wanted spiritual nourishment and community. They are like one big family — godparents to each other’s children, best friends, encouragers, supporters, listeners, pray-ers. We talked about our brokenness and our belovedness and how to fit prayer into our very busy lives. And we made collages, my new favorite activity. Here are some of the ladies at work in the dining room.

Menu: Last night we made a Turkey dinner with all the trimmings. All of the yumminess of Thanksgiving with none of the stress. And we have enough leftovers for another mini-Thanksgiving during the week. I highly recommend doing this some time during the year if you love Thanksgiving but never feel like you get to relax during the meal. And we always have something to be thankful for, right?

Spiritual Signs: Although I love to pray and write a lot about different prayers devoted to the saints, I am not one to go to the saints very often. In particular, I never pray to St. Therese of Lisieux. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her and her story and her Little Way, but I’ve just never felt compelled to call on her intercession. Then on Friday, I was reading about Pope Francis and his penchant for calling on St. Therese to take up his prayer needs and give him a sign. And the sign St. Therese is said to leave is roses. Again, it’s just never been part of my prayer life. But on this day, as I headed to Syracuse with some special prayer needs, I decided to call on St. Therese, hoping for a sign but not expecting one. I got to my retreat house room, put my bags down and looked for someplace to hang my clothes. I slowly opened the only door that could be a closet in the beautiful old room with a fireplace and enormous old-fashioned bathtub. I was worried I might be going somewhere I shouldn’t, like another person’s room. As the door swung open I could see hangers and stepped in all the way, and when I did, I was floored. There to my left, in what amounted to a big storage closet, were four giant vases filled with red roses. Velvet ones, mind you, but roses nonetheless. I have to say, she got my attention and I will not be so quick to ignore her in the future. To top it off, the next morning, when I told two of the women sitting in the conference room about the experience, one woman pointed to the wall behind where I was sitting, and there was a picture of St. Therese. Okay, I got it. You’re listening. I may have to go back and re-read her Story of a Soul.

Viewfinder: Two spontaneous shots to share with you, and by spontaneous I mean not quite in focus or thought out in advance.

Here’s the gorgeous sunset from the driver’s seat as I returned from Syracuse on Saturday evening. It was so jaw-droppingly beautiful I couldn’t help it. I just picked up the iPhone that was in the cupholder next to me, aimed it out the window and hoped I managed to capture even some of the magnificent sky. Here you go. Sunset at 65 MPH:

Meanwhile back at home…Olivia took out the garage-sale guitar we picked up for her a few years ago and decided to give it a try. So I tuned it up and showed her a few chords. I love this photo of Olivia playing and Chiara in the background in our living room. I have to admit that this photo of Olivia reminds me of myself when I was her age and played guitar day and night. Makes me smile:

Soundtrack: A little music for your Tuesday. This one is a new (to me) favorite: “Shelter” by The Strange Familiar.

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Butterflies in winter: the soul clings to life

It’s amazing how the soul finds what the soul needs.

When I was on silent retreat last month, I sat in the dining room on our final morning, staring out the window at the peaceful, frozen landscape. In the front yard of the Dominican Retreat and Conference Center in Niskayuna (yes, this place is becoming a perennial favorite in my posts) amid the many barren trees and evergreens was one lone tree still covered entirely in leaves — dead, brown leaves hanging ever-so-delicately yet ever-so-resiliently from its sprawling limbs. 

As I sat there, mesmerized by this tree and its odd determination to fight nature, a breeze kicked up outside. The leaves started to flutter, at first just the tiniest bit and then more and more intensely, as if the tree was breathing.  I guess because the leaves were so dry and light they fluttered in a way that was unlike hardy, green leaves. Their twisting and turning made the entire tree appear to be covered in small brown butterflies, flapping their wings quickly and in unison.

I couldn’t help but smile, especially considering the fact that the previous night’s talk had been about reconciliation and butterflies and new life. In fact, each of us was given a small foam butterfly to take home for our sacred space as a reminder of the freedom that is ours when we forgive others, forgive ourselves, and let go of our burdens in confession.

Suddenly that tree and its dead branches became a symbol hope and a sign that even when our soul is entrenched in the deepest winter, the Spirit is fluttering through our darkness offering light and new life. The Spirit beckons us to see the possibility for renewal and transformation even when everything around us convinces us we are stranded in a barren wasteland.

Butterflies in winter. Nothing is impossible with God.

 

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Collage as prayer: cutting and pasting my way to God

Sometimes losing our serious adult demeanor for a bit and doing childlike things can take us deeper into our spiritual center than any book on prayer ever could. Case in point: I spent Saturday armed with scissors and a glue stick, cutting and pasting — and praying. Although I’d done collages before on my own, back when I was working my way through The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, I had never used the art form as a way to deepen my spiritual life. Until this past weekend when I headed back to the Dominican Retreat and Conference Center in Niskayuna, my new favorite spiritual place, for a six-hour workshop called “Collage as Prayer.” I convinced one friend to join me and then met up by chance with another once I got there. We had a great group of women, probably about a dozen of us or so, led by Sister Ethel. The result? Two collages and a whole lot of insights into myself and my spiritual journey. 

Here’s collage #1. I did this one in the morning, after a short, guided meditation. I followed it up with about 30 minutes of journaling in one of the retreat center’s private rooms — sitting in a rocking chair, looking out at the snow-covered landscape while contemplating my collage and trying to figure out why I cut and pasted what I did. My friend, husband, and middle daughter have all asked if I’m going to frame this one, so maybe I will. I do love it, and it speaks so much to where I am in my life right now:

Here’s collage #2, which actually has a back and front. Truth be told, I got so caught up cutting out words and images that spoke to me that I had absolutely nothing glued down on my paper when Sister Ethel gave the 10-minute warning. So this one is not nearly as well-planned as the first. I didn’t have time to carefully place everything where I thought it should go after prayerful reflection. Everything on these two pages landed wherever they happened to fall. I did do a little additional work once I got home just to give each side a more finished look. I also never got around to writing a prayer based on my collage, which was part of our “assignment” at the retreat house. I hope to do that some time this week when I need a few minutes of spiritual quiet time.

Even if you think you aren’t artistic at all, you’ll be surprised at how easily collaging brings out your inner right-brained self. Suddenly colors and words and photos come together, even when you’re not intentionally working toward a specific theme, to form a cohesive whole right before your eyes. Each of my collages speak to me in a different way, including the one I made years ago that hangs beside my desk in my basement office. When I look at it, I can recall where I was at that time in my life. I have no doubt my new collages will do the same when I look back months or years from now.

I may take Sr. Ethel’s suggestion to do this sort of collage prayer on a semi-regular basis, whenever I’m working through something or marking a special or significant event in my life. It’s a great way to see where your head is at — which is often not all where you think it’s at. All you need are some old magazines, a scissor and glue stick, a slice of silence, and a little help from the Spirit. Give it a try and see where you end up.

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Lessons on letting go from a laptop labyrinth

My latest Life Lines column:

I was at the tail end of a silent weekend retreat a few weeks ago when I began reaching my silent prayer saturation point. Although the Dominican Retreat Center in Niskayuna, N.Y., was the perfect place for a spiritual respite, I’m used to taking my doses of silence in the summer when long walks on quiet paths or the rhythmic paddling of a kayak across a perfectly still lake help ease the what-should-I-do-now syndrome that sometimes sets in for me. Silence is not my natural habitat, so I need all the outside help I can get.

On silent retreat in upstate New York in the middle of winter, cabin fever can make the quiet even more challenging. On this particular morning, I was looking at about three hours of silence before Mass would begin, and I was feeling restless. I wandered into the conference room to stare out the window for a while. Over in the corner was a portable wooden labyrinth, which the Dominican Sisters had told us we could use as part of our prayer practice at any time during the retreat. Although I’ve long been intrigued by labyrinths, I couldn’t imagine this portable model doing me much good, but I was getting desperate for a spiritual diversion. I took the lap-sized labyrinth back to my seat and read the set of simple instructions. Not much to it. Whether walking with your feet or your finger, a labyrinth is failsafe. It’s not a maze; there are no wrong turns.

I put my finger into the well-worn groove and slowly started moving it along the path. Not knowing exactly what to do, I began by praying for all those people whose fingers had traced the path before me and all those who would come after me. Then my prayers shifted to those on pilgrimage – physical and spiritual. Somewhere along the way, however, the groove became a mirror of my own spiritual journey without my even realizing it.

I found myself wondering how long it would take to reach my goal. There would be long stretches when I felt as though I was making real progress, and then suddenly an unexpected hairpin turn would send me backwards. Sometimes my finger would move close to the center, my “destination,” and I’d think I was almost there, but with one long curve I’d find myself back on the outer edge, barely hanging on. Finally, I accepted the fact that I probably still had a very long way to go, and suddenly I found myself exactly where I needed to be. It felt all too familiar, those feelings of angst and worry, impatience and frustration over where I’m going in my spiritual life and why I’m not getting there fast enough. I don’t often accept my journey for what it is; I usually want to cut a new path and make my own way rather than accept what’s in front of me.

I started moving my finger back in the opposite direction, which is what you do in a labyrinth. You achieve your “goal” and then you leave it behind and begin the journey all over again. This time, however, I approached the path with less cynicism and more joy. Just one short trip through the labyrinth had proven I need not worry about whatever turns were waiting ahead of me. Wouldn’t it be nice if life were like that, no wrong turns?

Truth is, if we ground our lives in God and steep our souls in prayer, our interior journey can become very much like a walk through a labyrinth. Although our path may shift and twist, our way will be sure. We may look ahead now and then and wonder how long the journey will take or get frustrated with our lack of “progress,” but once we stop trying so hard to figure out every blind curve and detour, we’re likely to look up and find we are exactly where we need to be.

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Don’t miss the eBook sale: Cravings for only $2.99

Want to know how good the eBook sale is over at Ave Maria Press? So good I just bought my own book for my iPad. Seriously. I did.

Cravings: A Catholic Wrestles with Food, Self-Image, and God is now available for only $2.99 for Kindle, Nook, and Kobo. That’s really an offer you can’t refuse, isn’t it? If you go to the Ave link, you can scroll down just a bit to find Cravings, then you can choose which version you want.

So, if you’ve been meaning to buy Cravings but just haven’t gotten around to it, now’s your chance. Sale ends January 9. Thank you in advance to everyone who takes me up on this offer. HERE is that link one more time.

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Music Monday: When You’ve Got Trouble

My new favorite song, discovered on The Coffee House on Sirius/XM, for your Music Monday listening pleasure. Simple, beautiful, spot on. This one goes out to Dennis, my sweetheart. “When You’ve Got Trouble” by Liz Longley:

“All my heart is tangled all around you

When you’ve got trouble I’ve got trouble, too

All my life is arm in arm with you

When you’ve got trouble I’ve got trouble, too”

So what, what, what do you need?

I’ll kiss you awake when you’ve had a bad dream

And I’ll tell you a story… make it up as I go

Or I’ll sing you a song that I know that you know, it goes…

All my heart is tangled all around you

When you’ve got trouble I’ve got trouble, too

All my life is arm in arm with you

When you’ve got trouble I’ve got trouble, too

You and I live like the tree and the vine

Oh my darling we’re so delicately intertwined

I’ll ease your pain ’cause you’ve eased mine.”

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