The Journey Makes Us One

     On August 21-22, I served on team for Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP) Women’s retreat #23 at our church. I’m still amazed by the relationships that began over a weekend in February when we came together for CRHP Women’s weekend #22 and have continued throughout our team formation process.

     A love of Christ and desire to be renewed brought a group of women spanning a wide range of ages, levels of education, careers, life experiences, faith formation, ministry involvement, cultural and ethnic backgrounds, and God-given abilities together February 21-22 to continue “Growing in God’s Love.” We did what we were invited and reminded to do by the theme song chosen for our weekend “Let My Love Open the Door.”
     Our theme for CRHP #23, “The Journey Makes Us One,” has proved to be a perfect fit for a number of reasons. A couple lines from the hymn “Jerusalem, My Destiny” described our group coming together quite well: “Let no one walk alone. The journey makes us one.” Over the seven months while the eighteen of us were in team formation, we were given a number of opportunities to pray with and for one another. The death of loved ones, family crises, job loss, separation, divorce, disputes over child custody, facing serious illness, and surgeries are just a handful of the difficulties which we’ve helped support and pray each other through since we first came together last winter.
     Meetings, shared meals, lots of prayer, phone calls, e-mails, Facebook chats, text messages, letters, cards, flowers, impromptu visits, extra hugs, and perfectly timed words of encouragement have helped renew our spirits, create new friendships, and foster a sisterhood within the women of our parish. Our bond was solidified over the Saturday and Sunday of Women’s CRHP #23 as we welcomed ten other women from our parish into the CRHP family.
     A call to serve others kept us growing and transformed us from friends into sisters in Christ as we acknowledged and affirmed that “The Journey Makes Us One.”
     Lord, thank You for such amazing women of faith to walk with on our journey to You. Please help keep our hearts open to one another, so that our faith in You and the bonds we have to one another are strengthened in ways that will bring You and Our Lord Jesus Christ greater glory. Amen.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

     The reminder that “wherever you go, there you are” and a French song’s lyrics have been running through my mind lately. The song lyrics of "Jamais Assez Loin" are ones I learned and memorized when I was taking a French music course in college: “Tous les trains, tous les bateaux, tous les avions ne m'emmèneront jamais assez loin” which basically translates to all of the trains, all of the boats, all of the planes can never take me far enough away.

     Sometimes it would be nice to get away not just from the daily grind, but from the trappings, worries, quarks, and inner workings of my daily mind. I’ve been reading

Whatever You Do

     Over this past week, God put two neighbors in need whom I was able to help in small ways directly in my path. I’m grateful for both of these opportunities, because I realize that it’s all too easy for me to be so caught up in my own world, especially when I’m going through a particularly trying time, that I am not as likely to see the hurt, hunger, or thirst in someone else’s eyes.

The Confessions of St. Augustine

I have a few confessions of my own to make. Though I’ve made a point of reading a number of spiritual classics over the years, I only just this year read The Confessions of Saint Augustine. Of course I’d come across excerpts and quotes from this well-known tome, but even when my favorite brother in Christ loaned me the book, I put off reading it. I already knew that Monica, Augustine’s poor mother, had begged and pleaded with God for years to bring about her wayward son’s conversion. I knew Augustine had spent his youth leading a very sinful life, and frankly, I assumed that in this work he described in detail his many indiscretions. I gathered from the title that the book must be from the perspective of Augustine once he had converted and was, therefore, able to see the sinfulness of his ways.
   
I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that Augustine’s account of his sinful past was written from the point of view of a man who had given his mind, body, and soul over to the Lord. Instead of being a disturbingly detailed record of his debauchery, the work is primarily a look at the love, mercy, forgiveness, and glory of God. I found it all the more edifying that it was after Augustine had converted to Catholicism and allowed himself to be consumed by Christ’s love so much so that others considered him to be a model of holiness that he felt it necessary to write this autobiographical reflection on his previous transgressions and God’s perpetual compassion.
    
Throughout the book, Augustine quotes Scripture passages and addresses God directly in his prose. He describes the disillusionment he had been in and propagated to others as a professional orator, lust-filled youth, and follower of the Manichees. He acknowledges that the years he spent believing lies, living according to the desires of the flesh and human glory, and leading others astray were indeed a waste of the gifts God had given him. Augustine goes on to praise God for His infinite mercy and willingness to forgive him and any who will turn to Him.
     
Confessions is divided into thirteen books. I found the first ten books to be the most interesting and spiritually enriching. The last three become a very in-depth philosophical exploration of the abstract concept of time and God, Who isn’t bound by time, but Who has created living things who are bound by time. Though I’ve read other philosophical works and arguments on similar subjects, I found this part of the book to be rather confusing and convoluted. It seemed more indicative of the arguments popularly brought up in Augustine’s time for and against religion and the qualities of God espoused by the Roman Catholic Church.
    
I highly recommend reading The Confessions of St. Augustine.  You can purchase this book here.
    
I wrote this review of The Confessions Of St. Augustine for the Tiber River Blogger Review program.
    
Tiber River is the first Catholic book review site, started in 2000 to help you make informed decisions about Catholic book purchases. I receive free product samples as compensation for writing reviews for Tiber River.

Safely Through the Storm - 120 Reflections on Hope

Safely Through the Storm - 120 Reflections on Hope by Debra Herbeck has been a faithful companion of mine during a really awful week. Though I can’t honestly say that the words of faith and wisdom contained within transformed my tears into dancing, the quotes from a number of writers I love did remind me that God does not leave us alone in our suffering, nor does He give us trials so heavy they will destroy us.
    
The title is actually very telling of the contents and message throughout the work. Often when we embark on a trip, we pray for it to be safe. When someone is having a difficult time, we pray that they will get through it. Sometimes in the midst of a crisis when we’re asking how this could have happened, why, and for what greater good, we sometimes forget that God has promised to bring us safely through the storm. We may get beaten, battered, wind-swept, and worn out in the process, but He will bring us on out the other side.     
    
Amy Welborn, a well-known Catholic writer, starts the book off with a very down-to-earth introduction in which she mentions how she’s been called to have hope, especially in facing a devastating loss, last year her husband died suddenly at age fifty. This sets the appropriate tone for a book that is full of evidence that suffering doesn’t have the last word, especially in the lives of the faithful.
    
These reflections touched on many aspects of struggling and a variety of situations when hope is necessary. Most of the passages included are by authors I love dearly and whose names I recognized immediately from other works of theirs I’ve read and studied, such as, Pope John Paul II, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, St. John of the Cross, Fr. Henri Nouwen, Fr. Benedict J Groeschel, St. Teresa of Avila, and St. Julian of Norwich.
    
I appreciated that the reflections in this book didn’t minimalize life’s trials or the role that hope has in them with pat answers, cute clichés, and namby-pamby advice on how to get through tough times. Real people with real struggles who made it through suffering in mind, body, and spirit while clinging to God resonated on a deep level with me, especially during a very trying week.
    
I’d recommend this book for those in the midst of the storm who aren’t yet to the point at which they’re ready for singing and dancing in the rain.
    
This review was written as part of the Catholic books reviewer program from The Catholic Company. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on Safely Through the Storm - 120 Reflections on Hope.

Assumed into Heaven

In 2009, on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary family members and friends from around the country joined us at St. Michael the Archangel Church to celebrate the life and legacy of two people who have had a great deal of influence in my life: the Blessed Mother and my own father (James Lester Niermeyer).
    
August 15, 2009 was the Saturday of my dad’s memorial service. My mom and I knew it fit perfectly that the readings and songs for the day of his service all had to do with the Blessed Mother, since my father had a strong devotion to Our Lady.

As I listened to the homily Deacon Dave Nemetz gave at 9:30 Mass this morning, I knew my dad was present.  In his sermon about doing a memorial service for a gentleman he’d never met, Deacon Dave shared how he got to know the man by what his friends had to say about him.

I thought back to last year when my uncles, aunts, cousins, my dad’s college roommates, his friends from the gym, and a number of family friends gathered to honor his life. After the Mass said by Monsignor Shreve, two of my cousins Tim and Tom Niermeyer, got up to tell some stories about my dad. They had us howling with laughter as they recounted memories of my dad babysitting them many years ago and setting up a football training camp in the front yard or a gymnasium in the living room. They went on to tell how they built their careers in corporate America by listening to my dad’s advice and following his program for success.
    
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad as well as my nana, his mom. Nana was one of my favorite people on the planet. I loved spending time with her. She was prim and proper, but also feisty and faith-filled. Hearing about my father’s antics and knowing his three brothers have equally outrageous tales has made me marvel at her life even more.
    
My nana died in February when I was eleven years old. Within the next couple days of her passing and without my mom knowing, I went with my dad and his brothers Bob, Dave, and Rich to Woody’s funeral home to identify my nana’s body before she was cremated. We each kissed her goodbye one last time before leaving.
    
When my dad was taken to the same funeral home and my mom and I went there to make arrangements for his cremation and memorial Mass, it made me think about Nana. When I kissed Dad’s cold, stiff cheek for the last time; it was the same as when I’d kissed hers. I’d reached out completely certain that the souls of my loved ones were no longer in their bodies. I knew I was respecting the vessel for their spirits, but that who they had become in life after death wasn’t confined by their fragile bodies.
    
Lord, thank You for the gift of faith You gave to the Blessed Virgin Mary, that she might say yes to Your Will and be the vessel through which salvation was brought into the world in the form of Your Beloved Son. Thank You also for the lives of Nana, Dad, and Uncle Bob, who all learned to love and honor Mary as their own mother, and thereby give You and Christ Jesus greater glory. Amen.

My uncle Rich, my dad, Uncle Dave, and Uncle Bob many moons ago.

Now and at the Hour of Our Death

Five years ago if you told me that I would be sitting next to my mom holding my dad’s hand when he breathed his last, I would have figured you were crazy.
    
In 2006 a true miracle occurred. After many years of pushing my dad out of my life, I had a true reconciliation with him. There’s no explanation other than God’s grace that led me to reach out to my dad and really let him into my life.

I could never have imagined the healing that would take place for both of us over such a short time. I know I was given an amazing gift that God led me to reconnect with my father, really love him and let myself be loved by him during the last three years of his life.
    
What a tremendous blessing God took away the hardness in my heart so I could be there for and with him as the rare illness he had stolen his ability to work and volunteer, robbed him of his football player physique, and eventually led to him becoming very dependent on others. I had the privilege of being one of the two people he relied on most when he struggled with excruciating physical, emotional, and spiritual pain.
    
My mom was the one who did the most for him during the last three years of his life. I sometimes refer to her as the patron saint of ex-wives, because of the love and compassion she showed my dad. When he breathed his last on August 10, 2009, I was holding his hand and my mom was sitting right next to me.

Suddenly the words of the “Hail Mary” had even more significance: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us now and at the hour of our death.” My dad often prayed the Rosary. It was rather comforting to think that each time he’d prayed a “Hail Mary” that he was praying for the hour of his death. His advice to me when I was about to do something difficult or had a big task at hand was to pray three “Hail Marys.”
    
There are many gifts I have received from my parents. Of all of them, I am most grateful for the gift of a faith which has taught me to believe in the true presence of Christ in the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist and that Mary, the Mother of God, is also my own mother.
    
I am beyond grateful I was given such a gift beyond measure of making peace with my dad before he passed away. I know he’s still praying for me and loving me, but I’m thankful his suffering has ended.

Living the Lie that Everything's Fine

You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.

I used to be much better at fooling people than I am now. I got so used to burying my thoughts and feelings that there were times it took me quite a while before I could go below the surface of what I did during the day to access how it made me feel and what I thought about it. Most of these thoughts and feelings I wouldn’t have dreamed of saying out loud.
  
My mom, who was my only real confidante for many years, still remembers how it would take me half an hour of talking with her about superficial things, then a half hour of crying without being able to say anything before I’d finally open up and tell her what was going on inside.
  
Looking back, I find it hard to believe that I held so much in for so long. My middle school and high school years were often tumultuous and sometimes downright hellish, yet rarely did my closest friends know what was going on in my life. Part of the reason I didn’t talk about illnesses, injuries, addictions, disagreements, embarrassments were because I didn’t want to cry in public. I didn’t want to be seen as vulnerable or weak. Plus, as is customary of dysfunctional families, we had an unwritten law that you just don’t talk about it to other people.
  
It surprises me now how deceptively good I got at acting like everything was fine. I earned good grades, was involved in clubs, hung out with friends on the weekends, and went to church, but on the inside I was deeply unhappy, stressed, afraid, and worn down from living the lie.
  
A song that came out in 2005 whose lyrics and the theatrical singing performance amused me because of how well they portrayed the duplicitousness of people. In the song, “Mother, Mother” off of The Secret Life album by The Veronicas, the following lines are sung in such a way, they’ve stuck in my head for years as a prime example of what people say versus what they’re really feeling:
  
“I’m hungry. I’m dirty. I’m losing my miiiiind!”  “EVERYTHING’S FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”
“I’m freezing. I’m starving. I’m bleeding to death!”  “EVERYTHING’S FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”
  
There's only One who always knows if what we're saying is truly in line with what's in our heart and on our mind.  Others may think they know, but sometimes they're wrong.  We don't always say what we mean or what we think.  It's rather ironic that so often we crave intimacy, wanting so much to be known, accepted, and loved, yet we fear the vulnerability required to let others get to know us.
  
Lord, You who knit us in our mother’s womb, have known us from the beginning of time. You know each word and action, every thought and motivation behind it, yet You love us infinitely and desire to have an intimate relationship with us. You alone know us inside and out and can, therefore, love us more completely than anyone else. Lord, open our hearts, minds, bodies, and souls to such a profound intimate love, as Yours was, is, and ever shall be.

Quiet Desperation

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation...                                                  

                                                                                      -Henry David Thoreau

Many circumstances have led me to believe that many people really do lead lives of quiet desperation. I’ve often been surprised to find out that someone I see regularly is going through a major personal or family crisis. Most of us have been taught to hide any impression of being stressed or depressed. Put aside fear or indecision, and forge ahead with a purpose. Never let them see you sweat…or sigh, give up, give in, quit. Big girls don’t cry. That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Blah, blah, blah.

I know I was schooled in the art of living the lie that everything was fine when really it wasn’t. Early on, we’re taught to get ahold of our emotions and stifle them or bury them when it isn’t considered appropriate to express them. When growing up, we learned to do this not only when we were in the grocery store and wanted candy we’d been told we couldn’t have, but also when in front of a group of our peers whose teasing only escalated if we became increasingly upset. When company came, we were told to be on our best behavior, meaning not embarrassing our parents by saying or doing anything that would reveal our true nature and upbringing wasn’t by any means Mary Poppins kind of picture perfect.

  
If almost every one of the family members and friends I am close to has one thing or another going on in their lives that is a crisis or could easily become one, then it makes me think that’s also the case with people I don’t know very well.
  

For many years, I was convinced that I shouldn’t say anything about what I experienced or how I felt because other people wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t care, and/or wouldn’t believe me. Most of their families seemed normal. I assumed my friends weren’t worried about the effects of workaholism, alcoholism, depression, or co-dependency on a family. I was right. Some of them weren’t worried about any of those things; instead, they were concerned about cancer, separation, divorce, finances, physical and/or emotional abuse, drugs, and death.

  
Now that I’ve learned more about human nature, I know adults are particularly adept at putting on a mask that tells everyone life’s just fine even when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some people’s masks are more elaborate, sophisticated, deceptively calm, sickeningly sweet, or duplicitously attractive than others. I’ve found, lately, mine, which used to be several inches thick, has begun to wear thin—perhaps because I’m sick of keeping so much in. If I’ve fooled all of the people some of the time, then I bet you have, too. What if I take off my mask and you remove yours?