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Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
Blessed Basil Moreau | Book Review | Living the Faith
Moreau: Portrait of a Founder paints a vivid image of the life, times, and struggles of Blessed Basil Moreau and his efforts to form the Congregation of Holy Cross. The merits of this biography lie in the extensive use of primary sources from the time, in particular Blessed Moreau’s own writings, whether letters, published articles, homilies, or other such sources. The use of these sources provides a rich look into the mind of Moreau and his development spiritually. The adept narration of Fr. Barrosse, C.S.C. provides the necessary context, both historically and culturally, to better understand Blessed Moreau, while also letting Moreau speak for himself.
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Learn more about our faith | Seasonal Reflections
We’ve probably all had times when we’ve been trying to tell a story or explain something that it goes off the rails…we might even classify it as babbling. In Jesus teaching the disciples about prayer, He makes several points. The first is don’t pray to God the way that the pagans pray by babbling on…. more words don’t equal better results. Jesus isn’t telling them or us not to pray persistently throughout the day but rather to avoid what the pagans did in praying to their gods, invoking names and formulas…trying to get the attention of the pagan gods; in a sense trying to rouse the attention of those whose attention is elsewhere.
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Holy Women's History Month | Lenten Reflections | catholic mom | women's history month
It seemed like the thing a good Catholic would do, and I was nothing if not a new, enthusiastic, join-everything-do-all-the-things Catholic. Eucharistic Adoration. An hour! In silence! In the church! Wait. What?!? Over the course of my early years in Adoration, I learned to sit in the silence. I learned to have a conversation of sorts with God. I learned to accept the discomfort and peace and weirdness of it all. And I read. Boy, did I read. (Though not nearly as much as I thought I would.) One of the books I discovered during Adoration was Divine Mercy in My Soul, the diary of Maria Faustina Kowalska, who would, in 2000, be canonized. The red tome was tucked among the small collection of books the Adoration organizers had put in the back of the church. My husband — who was then just a guy I was dating and probably going to marry — started reading it during his Adoration hour. He who does NOT read for fun reads Faustina’s diary cover to cover. All five million pages of it. And … he casually mentioned that I should check it out. Prefer to Listen—Audio version available!
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Learn more about our faith | Seasonal Reflections
A few years ago, a bus driver in Seattle named Marcus made headlines—not for any heroics, but for noticing people. Every day, he would watch passengers board his bus, many were his regular passengers, and most of them eyes glued to phones, avoided an older woman who was also his regular passenger in a frayed coat muttering to herself. One icy morning, Marcus saw this elderly woman shivering and he handed her his own thermos of coffee. She stared at him, then whispered, “You’re the first person who has looked at me in weeks.” Turns out, she wasn’t “crazy”—just a widow grieving her son, quietly unraveling. Marcus didn’t fix her life. He just saw her. And in that moment, he glimpsed eternity. That’s the scandal of today’s Gospel. Jesus says the final exam of faith isn’t theology or piety—it’s whether we recognize Him hiding in plain sight, disguised as the people we have trained ourselves not to see.
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Holy Women's History Month | Lenten Reflections | catholic mom | women's history month
There is one sound more unnatural than any other in the world; it is the wailing of a mother burying her child. Watching Shirley at her child’s funeral service, I wasn’t sure whether she was going to puke, collapse, or scream. I recall the crushing grip of her hand clinging to mine during my feeble attempts at prayer, the same grip that clutched the coffin of her fourth and final child who succumbed to the violence of the Chicago streets. This son had survived the longest, being shot dead at age 33. As a freshman in ministry, how was I to share God’s hope with this woman, much less find it myself? The happiness and praise ringing from Sunday liturgy felt off; the Good News of Jesus Christ seemed distant. Where were the words of the Church that could speak life into this tragedy? What wisdom or quip of a saint could I share to make the pain cease? Prefer to Listen—Audio version available!
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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!
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