#rest – Tattoos, Motorcycles, Beer, Bourbon and Faith

A Father’s Love

My husband and I attended Sunday Mass at Our Lady of Sorrows Monastery this past Sunday. It is the home of the Franciscan Sisters, TOR. They do not always have a Sunday mass as they do not have a resident priest. Whenever there is a Sunday service, we try to attend. The Father of Mercy Chapel is a beautifully peaceful place, the sisters are very talented musicians, and we always feel welcomed and rested when we are there.

They have had a Sunday mass for the last two weeks, and we have been in attendance at both. Each week, there has been a beautiful family in attending. They have 6 children ranging from teenagers to toddlers. They are an inspiring example of love and a witness to the importance of families and faith.

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

Fr. Tim Shannon was the celebrant at last week’s Mass. I always love his homilies because he shares a story about his life, growing up in northern Ohio, and makes you feel like you are there in that moment with him. Last week, he spoke about the shepherd and the sheep, how the sheep know the shepherd, and how the sheep trust and feel safe with the shepherd. And he tied that directly to his life and experience growing up. It was a beautiful sermon, and Fr. Tim is a wonderful storyteller.

As Father was preaching, the family in the pew ahead of us settled in to listen to his words. The youngest child, who is probably not more than 3 years old, climbed up into his father’s lap. He wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck and lay his little blonde head on his dad’s shoulder. He was quiet and still, nuzzling his face into his father’s neck as his eyes grew heavy. He then fell asleep on his father’s chest. His little arms went limp as he drifted into a deep slumber. He stayed peacefully asleep for the remainder of the Mass, completely oblivious to everything and everyone else around him.

That is what real rest looks like. Knowing that peace, being that comfortable, and having the security of a father’s love, wow! Nothing disturbed him, not movement, not touch, not singing, nothing. He was still, quiet, completely surrendered because he knew he was safe. He knew he was loved. He knew his dad would protect him, take care of him, not let anything happen to him. (Kind of like the sheep and shepherd). He knew he could rest because he trusted and knew the love of a father. Just watching him sleep gave me a peace that seemed surreal.

But it also made me realize that we can have that too. If we want it. God, our heavenly Father, wants to give that to us, but we won’t ask for it. Maybe it’s because we don’t think we deserve it, or we think we can handle everything on our own. Or maybe it’s because we don’t believe that this kind of rest is possible. And it’s not just the physical rest, that break from the craziness of your life, that brief moment of relaxation, or that nap on a Sunday afternoon while it rains. It’s the spiritual rest that dispels confusion, removes worry, eliminates fear, and alleviates stress. Resting in the Lord, spiritual rest, leads to physical rest. Spiritual rest leads to emotional rest. It brings joy and peace, and contentment. It removes fear and doubt, and worry.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

So today, be like the little boy in church, and surrender to the kind of rest that only God can provide. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28. And today, please pray for me, and I will continue to pray for you.

The Summer of Jen

My husband went back to work on Monday, August 21st. He is a teacher. His return to work effectively ended the Summer of Jen. If you’re a Seinfeld fan, you know what that means, as it parallels The Summer of George. The episode, The Summer of George, was the 156^th episode and last episode of season 8. George lost his job with the Yankees and effectively took three months off, never changing out of his pajamas and never leaving his apartment.

August 23^rd marked three months since I separated from my previous job. And while I did not spend those three months in my pajamas, I got outside at every opportunity, I enjoyed the Summer of Jen. I spent three glorious months learning what retirement might be like. My husband and I spent as much time in nature as we possibly could. We filled our days with fishing, hiking, and backpacking. We took time to seek out obscure landmarks and hidden local gems. We spent evenings by the campfire, beneath the stars. We planted a huge garden and cooked together, smoking all kinds of meats, mastering the art of curing bacon and trying our hand at canning. We foraged berries and mushrooms, spent more time reading, and took the dogs on countless walks. While we had to dial back some things because I was, in fact, unemployed, it was one of the best summers ever. The Summer of Jen was a summer of freedom. We had no constraints. My husband was off for the summer, and I have been off indefinitely as I continue to search for my next great adventure.

We woke early most days, began our mornings with prayer, reading, walking or rucking, then brunch. On the mornings we went fishing; we headed out a bit earlier and enjoyed sandwiches on the boat. The days we hiked were similar to the days we fished; the days we went on other adventures almost always involved a late breakfast, usually omelets, but sometimes something more elaborate. It was a summer of no schedules, no rules. It was a summer of bliss. We even determined that we would be able to survive retirement together.

I am extremely grateful for the Summer of Jen. I needed that time to reset, to relax, and to learn to appreciate everything that life throws at you, even the things that you may not have wanted but desperately needed.

If I am being honest, I was lying to myself about how wonderful my last job was. It wasn’t wonderful, it was life-sucking, and I was miserable, but I didn’t actually know it. My husband has commented on how happy I have been these past few months. I am beyond happy, I am joyful. And surprisingly, not fearful or worried about the future. I know I eventually have to return to the workforce, but I have been taking this time to figure out who I really am and who I want to be. It is almost like a period of invention or rediscovery.

I helped my son with some home improvement projects during my time off.

I have spent most of my career in the fundraising world, and while I have thoroughly enjoyed that work, maybe it’s time for a change or maybe it isn’t. That’s what I have been trying to discern these past few weeks. I have been trying to hear God’s voice and understand his direction for my life. I have been getting a strong sense that I am supposed to “come home,” but I am not sure where “home” is.

Then this morning, I woke up groggy. I packed my husband’s lunch for work and sat down to read. (I am currently reading Miracle in Darien). About 30 minutes into reading, I had this strong sense that I should get ready and go to the 8am mass at Blessed Sacrament. As I sat waiting for the service to begin, I again got a strong sense of needing to “come home.” I was reflecting on this “feeling” as mass began, unsure of what it meant.

Mass started. Deacon Bob gave a great homily tying the first and second readings together on this Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Little did I know that this mass was being offered for my Dad. When the petitions were read, that is when I discovered the intention of the mass. It was a bit overwhelming because of how I actually ended up at mass in the first place.

And while I still don’t know what I am supposed to do next and am not really sure what “come home” means, I do know that I was supposed to be at mass this morning and that God is doing something in my life. Until it is clear to me what that next step is, I will continue to trust in God’s providence for my life. I will continue to enjoy this break. Although the Summer of Jen has officially come to an end, the sabbatical, the rediscovery, the reinvention is still in process. I will continue to find joy in the change and uncertainty.

I hope if you are dealing with uncertainty, with change, or even with challenges, you are able to find the joy and find your path. Until then, please pray for me, and I will continue to pray for you.

New – New Starts, New Beginnings, New Creations

It’s a new year, did you make any resolutions? Why is it that we tend to make new commitments, new promises, about what we are going to do, and who we are going to become at the beginning of the year? We give so much power and influence to the new year. Why do we do that? Does turning the calendar page on the new year really bring with it new opportunities or do we simply view the new year as a new start?

There is nothing magical about a new year. But we open ourselves up for change, for improvement, for betterment at the beginning of each new year. We make resolutions, we make promises. We will eat healthier, we will work out, we will drink less, we will spend more time with family, we will watch less television, we will spend less time on social media, and the list goes on. I, too, have made a mental list of things that I want to work on in the coming year, and things that I want to improve.

My son is starting the new year in a new home.

It is good to have something to strive towards, to work for; to have goals. Some of my goals include reading and writing more, using social media less, keeping a good work/life balance and establishing boundaries, eliminating and removing things that disturb my peace or steal my joy, being mindful of my personal health and wellness, and living an unhurried and fulfilling life. I am approaching 2023 as A Year of Slowing Down.

A Year of Slowing Down is a book by Alan Fadling that my husband and I have committed to reading together in this new year. Now we could have started this book at any time, but we chose to start on January 1. Beginning today (it is January 1 as I type this) was almost prophetic. The first reflection is “Rest is Holy” and today just happens to be Sunday – a day of rest.

I don’t know about you, but I find it difficult to rest, I mean really rest. I am typically distracted by the things I need to do, so I never really rest. Rest usually only comes after exhaustion sets in, when I simply cannot do anymore. But that is not truly rest. That’s more like recovery. Real rest requires us to slow down, to stop measuring our output, to center ourselves, and enjoy the goodness of God. Saint Augustine writes in his Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” That’s real rest, but it requires a trusting relationship with Christ.

While there is nothing magical about the changing of the calendar, it does serve as a springboard for new beginnings. It is the springboard for me to learn to live in an unhurried manner and to learn to rest, truly rest. While there is no power in turning the page of a calendar, there is power in Jesus Christ. In 2 Corinthians it is stated; “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come. The old has gone, the new is here!” What a wonderful sentiment for beginning the new year.

Maybe you haven’t made any resolutions for 2023. If you didn’t, it really doesn’t matter. Every instance is an opportunity for a new beginning. We don’t have to wait until a new year, a new month, a new week, or even a new day. What is the next step God is calling you to take?

You can start right now and become a new creation. Yes, it takes work (bible study, prayer, and openness to God) and trust (surrender of your will to God), and even rest (which comes when you recognize how God is moving in your life and you allow yourself to enjoy God’s goodness). What is God calling you to in this new year? Maybe a deeper relationship with Him, maybe more trust, maybe more openness, maybe more rest and unhurried time with Him.

I hope that whatever God is calling you to, you are open to experiencing His abiding love and faithfulness and find rest in Him in 2023. Please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.

Ash Wednesday, Freedom, Scars, and a Strange Blessing

Ash Wednesday marked the start of the Lenten season, which in and of itself is a big deal. This is the time of prayer, fasting and alms giving as we reflect on God’s great love for us and prepare for Easter Sunday. It was last year that I finally grasped the meaning and importance of the Lenten season. It was when I finally understood what a Lenten sacrifice was. Lent has taken on a much different meaning for me over the past year and has a far greater significance in my life.

The prayer coin we were given at Ash Wednesday Service at Holy Family Church

Ash Wednesday 2020 was meaningful for a couple of other reasons as well. This Ash Wednesday mark my first day of freedom. It was a day of independence, of liberation, of sovereignty, of dominion. It was the day that I got my life back. It was the first day that I had driven a car in well over a month. It was the day that I returned to the office to work (albeit on a limited basis). It was the day that I attended meetings with actual people. Although I had been working from home, my interactions with real people had been quite limited. It was the day that I was able to return to daily mass, and Ash Wednesday 2020 was the first time my husband received ashes (he converted to Catholicism almost 20 years ago but had never received ashes on Ash Wednesday).

I had a work meeting at Leonardo’s, a local coffee house, the evening of Ash Wednesday. My coffee came in this mug; just another message from God.

On February 3^rd, everything changed, even if I wasn’t ready, even if I didn’t want it to, even if I was denying that it would change. For the past month, it almost seemed like my life has been on hold. I am not a person who can just sit idly. I am not very good at relaxing and I tend to over think and analyze things when I don’t have something to do. The entire month of February, I was forced to relax. I needed to relax if I was to heal properly.

Although I was diagnosed with breast cancer in early November and had surgery at the beginning of February, I have to remind myself that I am still in recovery. I still, technically, have at least a couple more weeks of recuperation from the mastectomy surgery. And I will have another surgery in a couple of months. I actually have to remind myself that I had cancer.

I know I have mentioned this before, but I don’t feel like I have/had cancer. I don’t feel sick, I don’t feel angry, I am not worried. I am not in pain, I am not depressed, I am not upset. The only things that have reminded me that I had cancer and had surgery to treat it were the changes to my daily routines.

For the entire month of February, I missed daily mass. That was difficult for me because daily mass is part of who I am. Missing daily mass also impacted the way in which I was praying and how I was relating to and talking with God. I didn’t pray morning prayer. I didn’t pray my normal rosary and chaplet of Divine Mercy. In fact, it didn’t seem like I was praying at all. But I was, it was just different. I experienced a profound peace that I never expected to find through all of this. I could sense God’s presence and Christ’s peace even though life had changed, even though there was uncertainty. I wasn’t feeling fear, or pain, or anger, or frustration or any of those things. If I am experiencing anything, it is guilt because of how well I actually feel.

I guess I feel guilty because I know others who have endured cancer, the surgeries, the radiation, the chemotherapy, the exhaustion, the pain, the stress, the depression, and everything else that goes along with it and I really haven’t experienced a lot of that. What I have experienced has not been that severe. I feel guilty for being concerned about not being able to cook for my family or being able to workout at my normal level of intensity (I am allowed to walk and use the elliptical- no arms). That is just selfish. I feel guilty because there are people who are battling cancer who have to deal with the pain and sickness associated with radiation and chemotherapy, and I don’t. I dodged a bullet with that one.

I have to go through reconstructive surgery, a process that is uncomfortable but bearable. I have to have some follow-up visits with my doctors for the next several weeks. I have to take some anti-cancer meds for next ten years. And I get a little tired. What do I really have to complain about, maybe that’s why I feel guilty? Maybe I feel guilty because I am so blessed, and I know I don’t deserve it.

While most days it doesn’t seem like a whole lot in my life has changed, I know that a lot has. And I have the scars (and the medical bills) to prove it. The scars, they are what remind me every day of the blessings.

I was texting with a friend the other day who asked how I was doing. I responded that I feel fantastic and that all of this has been a strange blessing. That’s when it struck me, this really has been a strange blessing. Most people think I am crazy when I say that breast cancer has been a blessing. But it really has been. I can’t explain it, but I marvel at it. I can’t figure out why I have been so fortunate when others have had to endure so much more. Why I have been blessed with such kindness, heartfelt compassion, love and friendship. I could sit and ask why did God give me cancer, but what God did through cancer was bless me abundantly in so many ways. I am just waiting to see what else He has in store for me throughout this journey, because I am pretty sure it is going to be something amazing. So yes, this cancer is a strange blessing, but it is a blessing, an amazing blessing, none the less.

So today, look for the strange blessings within your life, if you really take time, I am sure you will find several, and please pray for me as I will continue to pray for you.