The Hope of the Resurrection

A Mary Moment Monday post

Ah, Lent is over. We leave the desert for the feast.

And I find myself wondering, yet again, what the point of it all really is.

Chocolate bunnies and shreds of colored grass? Fancy new shoes and curled hair? Egg hunts and bouquets?

It’s all too easy to get jaded and cynical about Easter, just as it is with Christmas. It’s oh-so-tempting to roll my eyes and declare that it’s getting too secularized.

I’m reminded, though, of an evening recently when I caught myself looking up from my book repeatedly with curiosity and disgust.

“WHAT are you watching?” I finally asked him.

He replied, but I don’t remember exactly what he said. I think we were watching an episode of Doomsday Preppers.

I couldn’t quite put my book all the way down: I wasn’t going to admit defeat to this dumb show.

And yet…and yet there was this grain of truth in what was underneath these people’s crazy obsession with preparation. There was this nugget within their craziness that appealed to me. There was something strangely appealing to the idea of being self-sufficient.

It took me a few hours to put my finger on what had me outraged, though.

“They don’t have hope,” I said at last, feeling triumphant. “These people are acting as though there is no hope.”

I don’t think any of those preppers would have called it a lack of hope. In fact, they would probably call their vast reserves of food and equipment and medical supplies the only hope they have in the face of certain disaster.

Except disaster isn’t certain.

That brings me back to Easter, to the Resurrection.

It’s the very embodiment of hope. God died in a savage, ugly, unthinkable way. He was buried. And then…THEN he rose from the dead.

Do I believe it? Do I live it?

Maybe what the Resurrection means for me is that hope must never die. Maybe what the Resurrection holds for me is a beacon that blinks “hope, hope, hope” in the face of despair and discouragement. Maybe what the Resurrection reminds me of is that before I give up, I need to give in.

Did Mary wonder? Did she doubt? Was it hard to say Yes to the uncertainty of the Passion?

Her reward was the empty tomb. Let it be mine, too.

The title to this post has been on my heart for a couple of weeks, and, in a fit of “What will I write?!?” I did some online searching.

I thought you would find this as interesting as I did.

John Paul II maintained, in his general audience of May 21, 1997, that Jesus appeared first to the Virgin Mary. Worth reading. Also worth contemplating at length.

image credit: MorgueFile

Writing Here and There

At CatholicMom.com: 

Tech Talk: Laudate, An App Worth Downloading

A while back, when I was looking for Rosary app recommendations for Droid users, a friend of mine called Laudate (then Catholic One) her “one stop” app for all things Catholic.

I felt sort of sorry for her, truth be told. I’m an Apple user, and my iPad apps are just, well, prettier than what I saw then on Droids.

The folks at Catholic One changed their name to Laudate (which, near as I can tell, is Latin for “Praise”) and now they’re billing themselves as the #1 free Catholic app on iTunes, too. –> Read the rest.

A Survival Guide & Giveaway You Don’t Have to Be Single to Appreciate

In early March, I was blessed to be participating as a blogger at the Behold Conference in Peoria, Illinois. While I was there, I met a delightful woman who, it just so happened, had a personality that made me want to read her book. She had just penned an article that week that grabbed my attention, and meeting her made me pick up her book right away, despite a review shelf that’s begging to be emptied soon.

How had I never heard of Emily Stimpson before? –> Read the rest.

At the Catholic Writers Guild blog: 

What I Love about Being Catholic Online

Every week, I encourage you to keep going with your blogging. I share tips and advice to the best of my ability. I try to be candid and not too idealistic.

Blogging’s hard work. But, as I was reminded recently, so is life. Period.

Last week, I had a bit of a family emergency. It took over my life, and it also made me appreciate, once again, why I so treasure my online Catholic community. –> Read the rest.

At New Evangelizers: 

Making an Old Story New

When I stand in front of my fifth grade class as a catechist, animated and enthusiastic, and mention “Easter,” I can see their eyes start to glaze over.

“Isn’t Easter just about coloring eggs and icing cookies?” their initial reactions seem to say. ”Isn’t it a chance to eat chocolate and see family? Isn’t Easter just an old story we talk about over and over every year?”

I found this reaction when I started to talk to these kids about the wonder of Christmas, too.

 

Serving as Loving

A Mary Moment Monday post

I had to go to the back of the church to nurse the baby, so I had a clear view of the front of the church after Father’s homily on Holy Thursday last week. He invited everyone forward to have their feet washed.

“It’s a gift you give me,” he said, with a look that I now recognize. It’s a look of love for each of us and of gratitude for his vocation.

This year, I noticed something: the children were the leaders, the first responders to the generosity of the invitation, and they didn’t hold anything back. They were at the head of the line with open arms, wide smiles, and unabashed enthusiasm.

My six-year-old, who has been asking all year long when this Mass would be (it’s one of her favorites too), leapt up and was first in line. She was followed closely by my ten-year-old niece, who asked to miss her volleyball practice so that she could come to this Mass.

I ended up in the middle of the line, and I couldn’t help but reflect on how awkward I felt standing there. Then, when I was in the chair and Father leaned over to kiss my just-washed foot, I had the same conflicting thoughts I have every year: “Ewww, gross! Awww, how sweet!”

That night, my six-year-old, who related to Daddy in great detail everything about the Mass, from the foot washing to the procession to repose the Blessed Sacrament in the church basement, turned to me suddenly.

“Why did he kiss my foot?” she asked. “That’s GROSS!”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would he do something so GROSS?”

“He’s showing us that when we love someone, we will even do gross things.”

Parenthood is full of moments of showing love and embracing gross, but I’ve also dealt with it in my role as sister, daughter, and friend. When you love, you serve.

Mary stands as a model for me of serving as loving. When she was asked to bear the Messiah, she said Yes, beginning her service to the world. Upon hearing that her aged cousin Elizabeth was six months pregnant, she dropped everything and traveled the 80 miles. When she saw that the young couple ran out of wine at Cana, she turned to Jesus with complete confidence.

Did Jesus learn his gentle ways from her? Could it be that when he looked the Samaritan woman in the eye, that he saw the scorn his mother must have endured from the people who just saw her as an unwed mother? Was Jesus’ love for us a product, in some way, of the love he saw every day during the hidden years?

Our faith gives us this gift of tangibility, of things we can touch and see and smell. It also gives us the gift of love: the love we give and the love we receive. As we rejoice over Easter, join me in smiling while you do those gross things that show your love.

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image credit: jotachito2003 on Flickr

Divine Mercy and Mary

A Mary Moment Monday post

It’s Easter Monday, and Sunday was quite a day (both for our family in 2010 and for the disciples 2000 years ago).

In the midst of the Divine Mercy Novena and with Divine Mercy Sunday coming up next week, it seems appropriate to reflect on the message of Divine Mercy.

Mary’s there, encouraging my trust in her Son. Through the letdown of “day after” and the trials of daily life, she’s pointing to that message of trust.

St. Maria Faustina is such a favorite of ours that she’s the patron of our youngest daughter. My husband introduced me to this devotion when he read her Diary during his Adoration time years ago.

I was intrigued by how he continued to read such a thick, imposing book. Is it really that interesting and inspiring? I wondered.

It took me over a year to read it, but I was struck by the gentleness of Jesus toward St. Faustina. I was also struck by how often Mary appeared to Faustina, to comfort and encourage her.

You don’t hear a lot about Faustina and Mary. It’s not the most important part of the Divine Mercy story, after all, and though it’s beautiful, it often doesn’t make the editorial cut.

In my latest column at Faith & Family Live, “Divine Mercy and Mary,” I share some of the lessons I’ve gleaned from Mary’s exchanges with Faustina. Maybe, after reading it, you’ll find yourself encouraged to give that trusting thing another try.

Jesus’ message through Divine Mercy is one of trust and love, one that I need to hear and believe. It’s there on the bottom of the image: “Jesus, I trust in You.” But do I? Read the rest.

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