x Close
World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
Holy Women's History Month | Lenten Reflections | catholic mom | women's history month
As a child (well, who am I kidding? This still happens), I cringed when we would read the parable of the Prodigal Son. It used to make me so irritated because what does a BOY have to do with me, a GIRL? I remember feeling stubborn angst towards this parable because the man had sons, and I was a daughter. I’d roll my eyes (still do) and listen in without really caring. You see, I understand this parable, even more so as an adult; however, it has just never resonated with me. As a girl child, I wanted to have my femininity seen by Jesus, just as so many boys saw themselves as the prodigal son. Side note: I do now understand this parable a bit more and actually identify as the eldest son most days. Prefer to Listen—Audio version available!
Share
Catholic Faith | family prayer | pray the rosary
Several years ago, my mom found herself in a precarious situation. Financial struggles and the complexities of her ordeal made her problems seem insurmountable. Her mental health—and her very future—hung in the balance, and I did everything I could to help. At the same time, my wife and I were new parents, and the weight of trying to pull my mom out of her difficulties threatened to pull my marriage down with it. I felt trapped, as if caught between Scylla and Charybdis—every path forward seemed to lead to disaster. I was treading water, searching for something—anything—to hold onto, even just a tiny glimmer of hope. And that consoling presence I longed for? It was nowhere to be found. I remember sitting in my mom’s living room one evening, anxiety pressing down on me. I worried about her. About myself. About my wife and our child. Then, as if something deep within me was praying through me, I began murmuring the Hail Mary. Over and over, I whispered: Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee… My thought—or maybe my hope—was that another mother might step in to help us. Without even realizing it, my mind had slipped into a practice I had learned as a child in Catholic school—the Rosary. That night, as I whispered each prayer, I asked for a miracle. And do you know what happened?
Share
Brief and contemporary inspiration focused on hope and family prayer will be delivered to your inbox! Articles include live video, written word, and links to resources that will lead you and your family deeper into faith.
Holy Women's History Month | Lenten Reflections | catholic mom | women's history month
I hadn’t heard of Saint Gianna Molla back in 1993. At the time, I was a young mother of three small boys. I had suffered a life-threatening internal hemorrhage after the remains of an ectopic pregnancy ruptured one of my fallopian tubes. Because I had experienced two previous ectopic (tubal) pregnancies, and because I nearly died with this one, my doctors and many of our relatives told my husband and me that we “had no business having more children,” and “you have to think of your other children now.” In those first few months after surgery, we believed that we ought to listen to the “doctors’ orders.” We continued using NFP (Natural Family Planning) in the most conservative way to avoid pregnancy. Prefer to Listen—Audio version available!
Share
Learn more about our faith | Seasonal Reflections
In Mathew 25 the Lord paints for us a scene of the Last Judgement. The criteria he uses in passing judgement is a simple – “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me. I was in prison and you came to visit me.” The Lord does not judge people by how many Bible verses they knew, or whether they knew the Catechism of the Catholic Church by heart or not. While knowing all that is of great benefit to an individual, he reduced it to the basics of love being put into action.
Share
Holy Women's History Month | Lenten Reflections | catholic mom | women's history month
While growing up, I didn’t give much thought to my last name, Perpetua, other than it was hard for telemarketers to pronounce (they always put the emphasis on the wrong syllable, if they could say it at all) and when the priest chose the long form of the Eucharistic Prayer at Mass, Perpetua was named as part of the Roman Canon, along with Felicity and some others. I knew that Perpetua and Felicity were women saints, and that is where my knowledge began and ended, for many years. It wasn’t until I was an adult and, eventually, a mother that I embraced these heroic Christian martyrs and shared the story of my (and their) eponym with my children. Only then did I begin to fully appreciate their sacrifice. Saints Perpetua and Felicity were young mothers martyred in the early 3rd century. Perpetua was a noblewoman with a young nursing child. Felicity, a slave, was eight months pregnant at the time she, Perpetua, and others were imprisoned. Prefer to Listen—Audio version available!
Share
Learn more about our faith | Seasonal Reflections
A while ago, there was an annoying commercial, for some product I can’t remember that had a woman who no matter the situation always had the same statement: “More!” It didn’t matter whether it was her dentist showing her the post-whitening process of her teeth, the waiter applying grated cheese to her meal, or a boyfriend who arrived with a bouquet … her response was consistent: “more!”
Share
