The Whirlwind

One day I was sitting alone, working to pull out some kind of sentiment toward God. You know, trying to pray. Not the easiest thing to do when you are like a piece of bread left on the counter for the length of Advent.

So there I was, dry as toast. The entire Hallelujah Chorus could have been playing and my reaction would have been the same— comatose.

But heaven must have had a leak because, all of a sudden, I felt something!!! No kidding, my heart lit up and I was just like a moth in the wind, ready to get sucked up into the midst of some cosmic conversation. (I exaggerate here. My life is not nearly as exciting as a moth, but you get the drift.)

Anyway, I hovered in midair and paid very close attention, waiting for something to happen.  And lo and behold, just like the dew on the morning grass, there it was!

“Well, what in the world was it?” you probably want to ask.

Well, steady yourself. Take a deep breath. Exhale slowly: I could almost see Jesus talking to his Father, and his Father talking to him! I know, it was that good!

Now before you get carried away and think I’m some kind of mystic or something, let me clarify. I didn’t actually hear anything. But I was just on the edge of it, close enough to know that there was a really big wind blowing and, if I was positioned just right under the mercy spout, I might be able to catch it. And if I didn’t catch it, that would be okay too. Because to tell you the truth, I was happy as a lark just to know that it was going on—like when I was a little girl lying in bed, listening to my parents talking in the next room. I didn’t have a clue as to what they were saying, but I could tell by the sound of their voices that they loved each other, that they were working together, and that they were planning things for our little family. I loved that.

The amazing thing is that, as a mere moth listening in on Jesus and our Father, I felt the same way—comforted and loved as if I really belonged there with themAs a matter of fact, I felt so loved that I started to believe that something great might happen to me too. I thought that I might even get caught up into the glory of God, just like Elijah whirling away in his flaming chariot.

That didn’t happen, of course.

Or maybe it did. For one brief moment of time, I think I was caught up into the whirlwind. Even if it was just in my imagination.Go to this link


Antsy at Adoration?

Do you ever sit before the Blessed Sacrament and feel as if you want to eject from your seat? I mean, literally for me sometimes, it’s as if I have the engines of a 747 inside me, all revved up, ready for blast-off. I’m not going anywhere, just flying in place at supersonic speed with my insides exploding like shooting stars. There. That was subtle.

The way this is starting out you might not think I want to sit in a dimly lit church in absolute silence with nothing going on. I do. I just don’t want to be the only one there even if I am. I want to have a two-way conversation and not with myself.  But here’s the problem. I say “Okay God, I’m listening. Is there anything you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Hello. Anybody home?”

And that’s as far as it goes. No inspiring words. No uplifting thoughts or pictures in my mind. I’m in a cave with a burned out light bulb; the steady drip of a melting stalactite is plopping onto my head (hey, you got to do something to make it interesting).

God isn’t talking today (He’s probably online with one of my friends). But He does send me some company. This one’s very heartfelt. I can tell the way he throws himself prostrate (not to be confused with prostate, which I am lucky enough not to have) onto the hard floor. He kneels, arms outstretched like Moses. His lips are moving. Heartfelt cries, like the cooing of a dove, break the silence. He must be having a heavenly visitation with quite possibly all the angels and saints and of course, God Himself right there.

This gives me hope. I should try again. “It’s me again. I’m going crazy here. I’d kneel to get your attention but I broke my kneecap; I’d throw my arms out but I’m afraid they’d lock up.” Okay, it doesn’t have to be audible. Maybe there’s a message for me in this book… Nope, that ain’t it. I rock back and forth (carefully because of my sacroiliac joint). I fidget. Scratch my head. Yawn. Another three minutes and I’m close to letting loose an ear splitter. (I’m not sure if this would make me feel better. I’m sure it would do no good for anyone else—including Moses. But I’ve seen some pretty distracting behavior i.e. just mentioned, going on in church which I mostly try not to notice. Mostly.)

I realize there might be a good reason for me going through this. I could be missing the adorer’s gene. Or God doesn’t like me (just kidding).

So why do I sign up for week after week of total tedium?

Well, you might think I’m presumptuous. You might think I’m fooling myself. But here’s the real reason I sit there bored out of my mind.

I think Jesus is so good that He’s pleased with anyone who shows up.

Even me.



Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Have you ever felt as if: (Multiple choice)

  • You were caught in the middle? (i.e. your husband and your son are both accusing you of favoring the other.)
  • No matter which way you turn, you hit a wall? (i.e. your car is rolling down the driveway toward your garage door and you are in a heated argument with your husband. The last word or the door—which is it?)
  • You are reading an article by an author who seems to have some major issues going on in her life. (Actually, I made all this up. I am perfectly in harmony with everyone in my life.) [A slight exaggeration.]


So where am I going with this? Good question.

Enter my perfect little world.

One fine fall day I had nearly all my ducks in a row. I was preparing to go away on a trip, checking off one by one the items on my list. Then the call that changed it all: a neighboring parish was allowing the Blessed Sacrament to be exposed for periods of time with no committed adorers present. Would I go and fill a spot later in the day. If someone didn’t cover, the priest might shut the whole thing down.

Oh.  I guess you could say that was the rock. What else could I do but throw it back?

 Why do I have to do this? Nobody shows up? Aren’t there some responsible people in that parish that could take care of this? … Besides, isn’t there something called subsidiarity involved here? I don’t think I should go around fixing things that are none of my business. They have a pastor.  He should take care of it.

There. That took care of that.

I had another friend (I have only two, I need myriads) that was upset about how this was affecting her life (call this the hard place). She had been filling in at that same church for two years and had never felt like she could leave adoration, even when her house was burning down (another slight exaggeration). After talking to her, I had a feeling the pastor was going to get an ear full and that he may very well shut it down. So where did that leave me? Right smack dab in the middle: Rescue or Wreck.

It didn’t take long for guilt to settle in. You know how it is, all of a sudden you are in a fog bank. And it’s all on you. I must be selfish. Poor Jesus is sitting over there all by Himself and I don’t want to go. What if somebody kidnaps Him?

That cycled for a while until Wait a minute! Maybe I can pass this guilt on to my husband. “Sweetie, I have something to ask you.” Why didn’t I think of this before?

His answer was encouraging. “Why do you want to go back over there? You were just there this morning for Mass. I think that’s crazy.”

Well, there you go. Submission. I have to obey—at least this time. He’s way smarter than I thought.

But there was still the issue of my other friend. I could just see her electric blue eyes all ablaze for love of Jesus. She knew what it took to launch an adoration program. She knew that one little slip could sink the ship. “The Blessed Mother wants us to get this going,” she said very convincingly, as if she had just talked to her.  “The more adorers, the better.”

I could feel the rock closing in.  Now what? Well, I did what any good girl would do when she is in the Red Sea between two large walls of water.

Multiple choice:

  • Tell God “I can handle it on my own.”
  • Tell God “I might need a little help.”
  • Tell God “Hey, I know this boat’s going down, but I’m going nighty night. You’ve got this, right?”

Actually, I did #2. And then I did # 3. I plunged like Jonah to the bottom of the sea. Aha, I got away!

But then God did #4 (not listed).

Whoa! All of a suddenmy brain rebooted. My eyes shot open and I saw it.

“You saw what?” you ask.

How God Sees Things.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yes…  I saw that God was pleased. God was consoled.  As a matter of fact, He was ecstatic.”

And you ask “What on earth was He so pleased, consoled and ecstatic about?”

“Glad you asked that! Simply this, God was pleased, consoled and ecstatic because He had two really good friends: one aligned with his justice, caring about the offense to his Holy Presence and the lack of theirs (presence—but you knew that); the other aligned with his mercy, caring about getting as many souls as possible to love Him much more intimately than they had ever loved Him before.”

“And what is your part in all of this?” you ask.

“Well, it’s like this. I’m still between a rock and a hard place. But it’s okay. I just have to pray. I have the distinct impression that God will work out the details.”

“And you don’t think you are a spiritual slacker by just sitting around praying?”

“Nope I don’t. ‘The fervent prayer of a righteous person is very powerful’ James 5:16 says (NABRE).”

“That’s not the end of the story, but it’s a good beginning.”

Anxious Vigils

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Jesus, sometimes I talk too much and I’m too letter- of- the- law in my approach to things. These tendencies seem almost too hard for me to overcome.

Keep your eyes on Me. That’s all that matters. I will take care of everything if you do this. Have no fear about anything. Keep progressing in my love so you will be free of these anxious vigils that undermine your confidence in Me.

A Great Blessing

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My dearest one, why do you doubt Me? The confusion, uncertainty, the undefined pain that sticks like a thorn in your heart, feelings of being lost in the fog—haven’t  you been here before? And haven’t I made all things well?

This is a time of purification. It is also a great blessing for you. Later you will understand. Yes, it will all come together. In the meantime, thank Me for this divine intervention in your life. I say it again. Thank Me!

Jesus Blogging … Help

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Jesus, help!

You are going through a most difficult time—an interior scourging. Don’t worry, it won’t last long. In only a short time, you will find yourself in a much better place as a result of my operating on you. While it is happening, you think it will kill you. You’ll see. It will all be worth the sacrifice. It is important that you trust Me. I am more than able to sustain you in all of your trials.

Jesus Blogging … How Much?

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Jesus, what do You think of me? I’m an abyss of misery. I know that. And I know that You love me as you love everybody else because that’s what You do. But I want to ask particularly, the way a lover would ask her beloved, how much do You love me?

Words cannot explain how rich, how indescribable, how bigger-than-the-universe my love is for you! Let Me put it this way, I lovingly watch over you as you sleep, hardly able to contain myself in anticipation of the moment you open your eyes. I then hold my breath, hoping you will once again put your day in my hands. When you say yes, I live within you, carefully doing each act of your day with you in the most loving way. If you are heading for a pitfall, I arrange the circumstances, filling you with so much grace to help you stay away from the influence of the world. As you close your eyes to go to sleep, I carefully tuck you inside my heart and place sentinels to guard you.

In short, you have no idea how much I love you. I would rather die a thousand deaths than lose you. This is how important you are to Me.

I feel the same way about all of my children. But very few of them ever ask. Sadly, they want nothing to do with Me. Tell them what I’ve told you. Tell them how much I love them!

Left Alone

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My beloved children, I have not left you alone in a world of utter disaster. If you look through my eyes, you will see that things are not as they appear to be. Yes, they are indeed falling apart, but I have a plan! I am working it amidst all of the turmoil to bring you to a place of unbelievable peace. Do not believe all that you hear and see. Believe Me. Look only at Me. Trust Me.