Life Coach: Spirit, Body and Mind » church

Travelling: Family & The Kentucky State Fair

Margo — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 03:02:00 +0000

When Rich and I left Rod and Trish, we headed east out of Missouri towards St. Louis. Rich wanted us to see the “Archway to the West” and as we rode I-64 I was able to get some decent shots of the archway and the St. Louis skyline. Then we crossed the state border into Illinois going almost halfway across to spend the night in Mount Vernon. We attended Mass in the lovely church of St. Mary’s on Saturday 27 August which left us free to have a small lie-in on the Sunday before making tracks for Louisville, KY and Richard’s family.

Like most of the days on this trip, God blessed us with perfect weather for riding as we finished crossing the state of Illinois, clipped the bottom of Indiana, and rode into the blue grass state of Kentucky. I could feel Richard’s excitement mounting as we rode closer to “home”. The plan was to head to his sister Rose’s home, unpack the bike, then head over to the Kentucky State Fair with Rose, her husband Ronnie, and their kids, Megan and Kalin, to meet up with another sister, Robin, and her daughter, Brittany, and his brother, Robert and his wife, Sylvie, and their son, Patrick. Wow, what a reunion!! I had not seen some of these folks since Thanksgiving 2004!

We spent several fun hours at the fair. I found some great HOT dip mixes and some wonderfully decadent fudge, while Richard ate a Krispy Kreme hamburger?????? (yes, that was a hamburger between two doughnuts!!), and later he could not resist trying some “fried Koolaid”. While some of the others went to a concert they had booked to see, Rich and I strolled around the rides for a while. We had fun tempting the “guess your age” guy who made my day and gave me a “prize” after guessing me to be 15 years younger than I am. Whether he was being truthful or gallant in his guessing I’m not sure, but I was happy. Then the tiredness of the ride hit in and we headed home to get a good night’s rest. We needed to get our beauty sleep because the next day we were putting on a Bar-b-q for the family and even more people were coming.

So on Monday we went shopping then got busy cooking and preparing food. By 4pm yet another sister, Rhonda, arrived with her daughter, Ginny, followed shortly afterward by Rich’s step-Mom Ruth, his step-brother Ryan and his step-sister Rachel and her husband Michael with his son in tow. The crowd was rounded out when Robin got there with her son Dustin, and finally we were able to tuck into all that good food. A little later, as we rested full tummies, Kalin took Dustin and they went to pick up Brittany and her girlfriend who had been attending a school sport meet-up. By that time we were ready for some dessert and enjoyed some wonderful concoction that Sylvie had made.

Our final day in Louisville, Rich went to get his (final?? who knows) tattoo in honor of his retirement. Of his eight tattoos, Lucky in Louisville has created 5 of them. This one he actually created around a small existing one of a dolphin that Rich had done in Washington, DC some years ago. Lucky extended the water/wave line under the dolphin , then added the letters USN over the top of everything with a sunrise and the year Rich entered the Navy at one end, and a sunset with his retirement year at the other. It’s really beautiful.

That evening we hooked up with Rose and Ronnie and the kids, Robin, and Richard’s old school friend and partner-in-crime, Fonda with his wife Sherry. We had a great meal and wonderful socializing at a very good Mexican restaurant, where we all ate a bit too much because the food was great!.

Next day, Wednesday 31 August, it was time to load up our faithful Harley, say our farewells, and hit the road again as we headed towards North Carolina. It had been a good visit with family and hopefully it won’t be so long before we see each other again.

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Spiritual Growth: Being Called To More

Margo — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 19:06:39 +0000

On June 18th 2011, I posted Spiritual Growth: The Lenten Mission. In that posting I explained that Fr. Jim reminded us that Jesus invited us to continue his work on earth (John 14:12-14). During the Mission I had a personal experience that strengthened this invitation.

On the third evening of the Mission we were encouraged to approach the Prayer Ministers with any requests for special intentions or issues that we might have. I felt strongly compelled to go to Kevin, one of the Prayer Ministers who had travelled down from Chicago with Fr. Jim. There were two reasons for my choice. Firstly, Kevin had played an important role in my husband’s personal experience the previous evening and I wanted to thank him for that, and secondly I was aware of an intense spiritual energy around Kevin and I wanted to experience that for myself.

As I began to express my gratitude to him and then started to speak my first special prayer request, Kevin held up his right hand and said, “Stop Margo. Do you realize how much the Spirit is working in you, already using you to do his work?” I was somewhat taken aback, and faltered in my reply as Kevin continued to say to me, “But why are you holding back Margo? What are you afraid of?” Again, I fumbled with my words even as a picture formed in my mind.

Seven years prior, shortly after arriving in Jacksonville, I had bought a bicycle with the intention of riding it in my wonderfully safe neighborhood. The bicycle has sat in my garage – unused. I have been scared to get on it because it’s been about 50 years since I’ve been on a bike. I have allowed my pride to get in the way thinking that I might fall off and people might laugh at me. By the same token there have been many times in the past when I have wanted to share something about my faith or do something to be an example of God working and I have held back, scared of what people might think.

I shared this with Kevin and he said, “No more Margo, Spirit is calling you to more. You cannot be afraid anymore. He needs you to do His work.” At that point I spoke my other prayer requests which were for my children, and then Kevin prayed earnestly over me. I became aware of intense heat surrounding me, I felt a quiver go through my body, and the next thing I remember I “woke up” lying on the floor in front of the altar of the church and I knew Spirit had been with me.

Little did I know at that time that this phrase, you are being called to more, was going to be repeated to me two more times in the next few weeks. And this by two widely disparate people in totally different locations and circumstances, who were not in the least bit connected to Kevin or any form of Healing Prayer Ministry. But that will be for two more separate postings.

Today, I share this posting from Brainerd, MN. We arrived here yesterday at about 4.30pm after another day of beautiful riding.

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Spiritual Growth: The Lenten Mission

Margo — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 02:09:27 +0000

I’ve just checked through my archives and cannot believe I didn’t write a piece on the Lenten Mission from 2010. In my blog, Spiritual Growth- The God Path June 15, 2011, I told the story of my first experience of Fr. Jim Curtin. Although I tried to get him to come and give a Lenten Mission at our church in the period of Lent 2009, we already had someone booked for that year, so I had to be patient and wait to invite him the following year. He finally came to our church during Lent of 2010 and gave a Healing Prayer Mission which truly rocked our parish. Out of that experience a fledgling Healing Prayer Ministry was established and I guess God realized that we needed a little more help along the path and by some miraculous divine intervention, Fr. Jim was invited once more to present a second Healing Prayer Mission in Lent of this year.

This time around, the Mission was probably even more powerful than the previous year. Fr. Jim brought four of his parishioners with him, two men and two women, all Healing Prayer Ministers. Much of the content was similar to the previous year and yet, somehow, it all seemed new. The first evening was focused on physical healing and Fr. Jim reminded us that Jesus himself invites us to continue his work on earth – and some. “Those who follow Me will do not only the works I do but greater works.” (John 14:12-14). He also pointed out that Jesus’ work was about touching and praying over and healing the sick and even raising the dead.

His subsequent exhortations to his apostles and disciples, his mandate to them if you will, was to do the same and more. In fact the work of the early church was just that: telling the story of Jesus, healing the sick, raising the dead, and forgiving people’s sins – also mandated by Jesus. Somehow, over the centuries the church has moved away from this simple mandate of Jesus. Man-made rules and regulations were established and the church became very “powerful” and political. It is only in recent times, partly because of the changes brought about by Vatican II in the 60’s and partly because of the upsurge of the charismatic movement, that there has been a desire to return to “doing the work of Jesus”.

The second evening of the Mission focused on the the Holy Spirit and how important it was to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. On the third and final evening we heard about healing on the spiritual level. After the presentation each evening, prayer teams would be stationed in the area surrounding the altar and parishioners were invited to come up and ask for healing. It was truly a remarkable experience to watch people go up, be prayed over, and then be “struck” by the Holy Spirit. Many people were so overcome by the Spirit that they “went down” to the floor and lay “resting in the Spirit” for some time.

The fact that people came back to each evening of the Mission was testament itself to their hunger for an experience of the Spirit as well as an indication of the success of the Mission. People from many other churches attended this Mission because they had heard through friends what an impact it had made on their lives the previous year. The church was full all three evenings. My husband had an extremely powerful experience as he requested Baptism in the Holy Spirit. I cannot reveal the details here because that is his story to tell. Suffice to say that it changed him dramatically.

A friend, who I felt inspired to invite to the third night of the Mission, had her own very powerful and personal experience. She was not of our denomination and I remember her saying that never would she have imagined having anything like that experience in a Catholic church. She likened it more to a “revival” than a “mission”. But whatever label she gave it, her experience led her to make a personal decision that she had been hovering over for some time. She has since set up in her own business – a life-long dream.

Since the Mission, Richard and I have felt compelled to become part of the Healing Prayer Ministry. It is growing and blossoming into a fruitful work of the Lord, and we feel blessed and privileged to be a part of this group and to offer this service to our fellow parishioners. As I look back to that conference in 2008 and the growth which has come from that, I am so grateful that I remain ever open to the beckoning of the Spirit.

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Spiritual Growth: The God Path

Margo — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 23:26:21 +0000

As I gathered my thoughts together to begin writing about the Healing Prayer Mission at our church last February, I realized that to tell that story I had to go back to October 2008. Without the events of October 2008, we would not have had the Healing Prayer Mission this year. Back in 2008, I crossed paths with a fellow parishioner and friend, Guy, and he told me about a conference that was to take place in Jacksonville, Florida in a couple of weeks.

He knew that I was a Reiki Practitioner and that I referred to myself as a “healer”. The conference was a joint effort of the International Catholic Charismatic Movement and Christian Healing Prayer Ministries and was focused on today’s need for Christians to recognize that Jesus invited us, the church, to continue his work. “Those who follow Me will do not only the works I do but greater works.” (John 14:12-14) After speaking with, Guy I realized that the conference was a week long and would cost quite a bit of money. However, he gave me a name and number to call and invited me to trust.

The next day I called the number and told the gentleman on the other end of the phone that Guy had told me to call. He said, “Ah yes, you need a scholarship; I’ll see you at the conference”. I was blown away. This was no two cent deal. So a week later I attended my first day. I remember feeling a little cautious as I wasn’t quite sure whether I could handle this “charismatic” stuff. By lunch time I was raising my hands to the heavens and praising along side hundreds of strangers from countries all over the globe.

I thoroughly enjoyed the next few days. The people were joyous and worshipped God joyously. The presentations were both informative and interesting. I loved the informal music group and it was easy to begin to feel free and unrestrained as I learned to worship God in another way, no holds barred. Every evening at the end of all the presentations and teaching, Mass was said at 5pm by a different priest. Their were priests from all over the world in attendance and it was beautiful to experience the Mass celebrated by priests from different countries.

On the Thursday evening I had already planned to leave at the end of the presentations because there was an activity that I normally participated in with my Yoga group, and I didn’t want to miss it. However as 5pm rolled on I felt compelled to stay for Mass. I sat quietly waiting and the music group began playing the entrance hymn. People began singing and clapping. Suddenly I was aware of a wave of energy coming from behind me. I turned around and I’m sure my mouth must have gaped open.

There was a large colorful group of people coming down the center aisle. Men and women of different nationalities dressed in their native costumes swung down the aisle smiling, clapping their hands, and singing joyously. Bringing up the rear and rocking and rolling down the aisle was this tall priest who had an energy, a charisma about him that I have rarely experienced in a member of the clergy. As I watched the procession make its way down the aisle I was aware of one strong thought in my head: I have to get this priest to our church; we need this priest at our church.

By the end of Mass and after experiencing his wonderful homily, I was more than determined to make this my goal. My friend Guy was helping behind the scenes at the conference, so before leaving after Mass I sought him out and gave him my “mandate”: whatever you do please get contact information for this priest. And so it came about that Fr. Jim Curtin from St. Dennis’ Parish in Wisconsin came in 2010 to give us our first Lenten Healing Prayer Mission and returned again in Lent this year. My church has never been the same since and we now have our own blossoming Healing Prayer Ministry. Alleluia!!

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Freedom: Also a Loss

Margo — Wed, 18 May 2011 15:23:02 +0000

Last Saturday I completed my last class of the first year of my Audire course on spiritual direction. So, yeah – I have some freedom; no homework and no going down to Winter Park each month for class. But, boo-hoo – no more interaction with my very special Audire family until September. Actually, even though we have finished class for the year, we will be getting together in June for an end-of-year silent retreat.

So, what will I be doing with myself for the next three months? Well I have about two and a half month’s worth of writing to catch up on. Between school and travelling and dealing with some chronic left hip pain, I have not done much writing at all. Travelling is always very wonderful but then it comes at a price: the trying-to-catch-up-with-life price. What can I say about pain? For me it is the sheer loss of energy that I put into dealing with the pain that is almost worse than the pain itself. Thank God I have received some special healing, which is something else I have to write about.

There is much I need to write about, starting with an amazing Healing Prayer Mission at our church back in February. Then I had another amazing experience in Sedona that confirmed/piggy-backed on the Mission experience. And then there was my Qigong experience in Orlando at the end of April. During this event, the Qi-Revolution, I received yet another confirmation of my Mission experience and also found the “missing piece”, or rather I was re-presented with the missing piece for my health – perhaps a couple of missing Pieces.

So I hope I have given you enough “teasers” to keep you excited as I formulate my thoughts and get the words down on paper. Actually, on the computer! Back soon!

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Going Raw: Part One

Margo — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 02:38:34 +0000

(My Life-Long Love Affair With Food)

I don’t normally put sub-titles to my postings, but I felt this one deserved one. There is no way I can share my “adventure” at going raw without giving some background as to my relationship with food. And it is a love affair.

I have had an intimate relationship with food ever since I can remember. Some of my earliest memories of food are:

- sitting under the dining room table in the middle of the night eating rice paper (don’t even ask!!)

- sitting for what seemed like hours on the garden gate or at the front room window waiting for Aunty Polly to arrive with ice cream and candy

- going to Aunty Peggy’s to have wonderful four course dinners that included incredible appetizers, cheese and crackers, dessert with coffee (like in a “grown
up’s” restaurant)

- going down to the kid’s secret den to eat as many candies as I had been able to take from the pantry without it looking as though someone had taken them
(I’m sure my mother realized!)

- finger-swiping the frosting off a freshly baked “chocolate horror” cake (bliss!)

- sneaking teaspoonful’s of Fry’s chocolate spread (pure paradise!!)

- biting into the crusty heel of a fresh loaf of country bread slathered in real butter

- English cheddar cheese and crunchy pickled onions

So as you can see I was pretty much addicted to food from an early age. I could describe in detail, and still can, the sensations of different foods hitting the different taste buds in the various areas of my mouth just the way someone can describe the details in a picture. I think God proved that He really, really loved us when he gave us taste buds.

I discovered “ethnic” restaurants in my mid to upper teens and a whole new world of tastes and flavors opened up to me. English food is usually so bland and much of it, particularly vegetables, is simply boiled into oblivion and mush. Indian curry and crisp Chinese vegetables were like heaven, and the awesome blend of herbs in authentic, freshly cooked, Italian cuisine can still send me into a swoon today. I think you get the picture.

Moving to Sardinia, Italy in 1979 was a dream come true for this foodaholic. The Sardinian cuisine is unique and is as beautiful as the island itself. Home-made pasta was the norm in a Sardinian home in those days and if you have never eaten fresh home-made pasta you need to before you die. Roast lamb, kid, and pig are nothing like anything over here. I have eaten some of the best bar-b-q pork since coming to the States but nothing touches a succulent roast-in-the-ground pig in Sardinia.

From Sardinia I returned to London in 1978. It was mainly a “big mistake” but forms part of my life journey so it was important. During the five years I remained in the UK back then the only time that I ate well was when I cooked Italian pasta or I ate ethnic. I missed Italy badly, not just the food but the whole culture. So it was with a happy heart that I returned in 1983 to live in Naples, Italy.

Naples, rather like Sicily, gets a bad rap in some tourist books, but I fell in love with Naples very quickly. There’s an Italian saying that goes, “see Naples and die”. There’s a Neapolitan saying that goes, “Napoli ti prende per la gola” – Naples grabs you by the throat. The people are warm-hearted and friendly and the food, well I’m not sure anything I could say about Neapolitan food would do it justice. There are amazing pasta dishes with incredible sauces and fresh seafood cooked in the simplest but most divinely-tasting ways. “Dolce” (cakes) are out of this world and the pizza, oh the pizza!!!!! You have not eaten real pizza until you eat pizza prepared and baked in Naples. Not even the pizza in other parts of Italy is as sublime as Neapolitan pizza.

And then there’s REAL mozzarella cheese freshly dripping in its own liquid. This is an absolute delicacy that is only made in Naples, Italy. There is only one place over here that I know of where you can find real, fresh Mozzarella cheese and that is at the Fratelli La Buffala restaurant in the beaches area of Miami. They have it flown in fresh from Naples two or three times per week.

So, with all this love of marvelously prepared and served food, how do I get to going raw? With great difficulty let me tell you! I guess with age comes some sort of wisdom, and my brain began to tell my body that two hundred pounds on a five foot four inch frame was not so healthy. And, as usually happens with the fat accumulation, my blood pressure had risen and my cholesterol was fast following it.

Thankfully, when the student is ready, the teacher appears. Back in 2005, about eighteen months after getting to Jacksonville, Florida, my church hosted a series of classes on the vegetarian diet. I was interested not only because I thought it would help me lose weight, combat the BP and cholesterol issue, and improve my overall wellness, but also because the classes were offered by the Cancer Society as a way to help people prevent cancer or live cancer free once they were in remission. Because there is a history of cancer in my family I decided it was time to take the bull by the horns.

I’ll leave the “vegetarian experiment” for my next posting in this series.

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Musings: Unblocking Again

Margo — Fri, 14 May 2010 02:05:38 +0000

I have been in a “dry spell” again:-(. And yet I have so much I want to write about. So many things running around my head. But it all seems stuck inside and I haven’t been able to release it. It is so frustrating. So let me start somewhere and see if I can unblock something.

So much has happened in my life in the last couple of months. Oh nothing monumental or earth-shattering – just life. But it has been so much more than the various bouts of sickness that I have had to contend with. Towards the end of February we had an amazing Lenten Mission at our church. A man fired with the Holy Spirit, Fr. Jim Curtin from Wisconsin, came and woke up a new spirit in our parish. I will eventually write a full posting about that.

One morning in March (fortunately in one of my healthy periods!!), my husband suddenly experienced chest pains and was hospitalized. I discovered through that experience that I have a weird way of dealing with unexpected shocking news when it involves my loved ones. That’s another posting too.

Easter and the celebration of the risen Lord came around again. With each year I become more and more aware of the passing of the seasons and the special church and State feast days and festivals. And each one seems to come around faster and faster. I am sure that this has something to do with what happens internally to us as we get older. Food for another posting.

At the end of March we had the joy of a fleeting visit from my eldest son Marco. He was flown from Naples, Italy to DC for a conference. That was a chance not to pass up and so he came a couple of days early and we flew him down to Florida so we could snatch some time with him. It was a happy time, yet tinged with sadness: his ten year relationship with the love of his life is seemingly at an end. The culprit? Words – those said in anger and those left unsaid. I know in my heart that I can write something about that.

And then came my birthday. Thank God by then I was done with being sick and I was able to celebrate with joy. Dinner with friends one day. Lunch with “the girls” another day. Cards and telephone calls from family across the sea as well as those close by. And wonderful gifts that showed just how much people cared. Beautiful flowers from my husband.

Celebration followed celebration as Mother’s Day came just a week after my birthday. What a day of bitter-sweet emotions. Mother’s Day this year occurred on the fourteenth anniversary of the passing of my own mother. I miss her so much. I still have times when I want to telephone her to share a special moment. I often think how she would have enjoyed a visit to my home here in America.

Again I received calls from my sons overseas. My husband showered me with more flowers and a lovely card. And of course my “baby”, my beautiful daughter Melissa, also telephoned. I was out in the garden and had just seen three butterflies in quick succession. They are my special connection to my mother but almost always cause the tears to flow.

I shared my memory of my mother with Melissa and we both cried some together. Between the tears she said, “I wish I could spend the day with you Mum”. But we both know that while she makes the choices that she makes today, that cannot be possible. And my heart is broken all over again. Sometimes being a mother just plains sucks!!

In the last few days I have realized that much of this being blocked, of my inability to write, is connected to this particular heartbreak. I have to put so much energy into staying upbeat, into not walking around looking miserable, that I have no energy left for play dates with my internal Muse. By the end of the day it leaves me totally exhausted physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

So now I have to figure out a way to break through this situation so that I can reclaim my inspiration, my time with the Muse. Perhaps I have taken a small step in this direction this week. I have found a support group that may help me to walk through the difficulty in my relationship with my daughter. Then I hope to free myself and my energy and move back into daily regular writing.

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Spiritual Growth: Friendship & Prayer

Margo — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 00:20:08 +0000

I am going to share a very intimate and personal story about a recent situation in my life. This story involves a friend who, for privacy reasons, I will choose to call “Pat”. I have known Pat for the six years since coming here to the States. In that short period of time she has faced some severe trials and tribulations.

The month before I arrived in Jacksonville, Pat lost of her then 8 year-old daughter. Three years later she was diagnosed with breast cancer and went through surgery, followed by chemotherapy and radiation during which she lost her hair but not her sense of humor nor her faith. Last December she was diagnosed with a brain tumor, has had surgery and now faces chemo and radiation – again. She still has her sense of humor and incredibly strong faith.

Ten days ago, after seeing Pat in church just a few days after her brain surgery, which was a miracle in and of itself, I received the following email from her:

“It was good to see you last night. I didn’t get the chance to talk to you after Mass and really it wasn’t the place, but I wanted to let you know how much you have been with me through this whole thing. When they told me about the tumor and having to get the PET scan to see about other possible places, I sort of let my imagination get away from me. It was really scary not knowing how involved the rest of my body might be with cancer. Of course, I started praying, but you were in my head also. You, to me, are such a spiritual, faithful, prayerful person with such a great understanding and insight to our faith. Yet, I know you have struggled with letting go of control of things. That is where I found myself before my scan, praying and still trying to control the outcome. Stupid. So there you are in my head trying to convince me to give it up. You got me to visualize a totally clear scan (neck down) have FAITH and TRUST. So during the scan that’s what I did. I prayed for it and you told me to trust God and let Him take care of me. In times of doubt and panic it calmed me to continuously turn it back over to God, let Him take it from me and TRUST He would, put my hands up and let go.

I feel so blessed that you came into my life when you did and are still here for me. You have planted so many seeds in people’s hearts and minds, I just wanted to let you know that something beautiful grew from one of those many, many seeds. Thank you and I love you!”

The following is my response to this email:

“It has taken me a while to get my emotions and my thoughts sorted out since receiving your email. After reading it I wept. It just touched my heart so deeply. And I went back to one of the reflection books that I had read that morning which quoted: ‘During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, He offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears …..’ Hebrews 5:7. The reflection went on to say: ‘Praying is no light and trivial exercise. It engages all the powers of man’s moral and spiritual nature as is evident in the scripture verse above………. It takes only a moment’s thought to see how such praying drew mightily upon all the powers of God …….. This is the kind of praying that brings the soul close to God, and that brings God down to earth.’

These are the kinds of prayers that I have had to make recourse to in my “letting go struggles”. I live a very happy and joy-filled life in many ways and I am truly grateful for all the blessings that I have and continue to receive. However, I have never been brought to my knees as I have over my daughter. And, although it was for very different reasons in your case, I know that you too have been brought to your knees over your daughter – so you understand that kind of struggle.

The very next morning, in the same reflection book, I found this scripture, ‘I urge you, brothers, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to join me in my struggle by praying to God for me.’ Romans 15:30. And the reflection then went on to talk about the effort that Paul put into praying: ‘It is like a great battle. Like a soldier, the praying Christian fights a life-and-death battle. His honor and eternal life are all at stake. Everything depends on the strength he puts in it……… This kind of praying engages our undivided hearts, our full consent to be the Lord’s’. And I know that if I redouble my prayer effort I will benefit in the long run.

So then I read the next reflection book (I read 4 or 5 each morning), and here is what I found: ‘Your journey through life is often not easy, and you may experience times when you awaken to find yourself battered and bruised, lost and forsaken, lying helpless along the side of life’s road. Your resources gone and your strength spent, you may wonder if there is hope for you. Will anyone come along to help? God has promised that there is no circumstance from which He cannot rescue you. If you call out to Him, He will help you to your feet and provide comfort and support until your wounds heal and you are able to continue on your way. Though the circumstance that caused your fall may still be present, He has promised to walk with you, steadying your feet and filling you heart with hope until you reach your final destination.’

Pat, we are so blessed to have our faith, to have our loving God. We are also so blessed to have all the friends that make up our parish family who will add their prayers to ours in times of difficulty and struggle. And at that moment I was reminded of yet another reading that I had done the previous day which reminded me, ‘The grace of God sustains me in every moment……Whatever lies before me, I can be sure that God is in the midst of it…….. I trust the grace of God to guide me. I live calmly and confidently, and I walk my path in peace. I have absolute assurance that the grace of God is equally present in the lives of those I care about.’

And right there I found yet another degree of inner peace. Your email opened my heart and my eyes on another level and let me read deeply into these reflections and led me back to reread them and take them more fully into my heart and mind. I am always so humbled and so grateful that God loves me enough to send me messengers over and over again to remind me of His message of love. So let us both take heart in our “struggles” knowing that we have an awesome God. Thank you for being my messenger. You remain as always in my prayers.”

And so the circle ripples out, when friends support each other with prayers and love and compassion. One seemingly small act by one person is received as such a huge blessing by another which, when verbally acknowledged to the first person then becomes an even bigger blessing to them. And in my case, it opened me to further blessings as I went back over my spiritual reflections and took the lessons even deeper into my heart.

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Musing: The Muse Has Been Gone – Again!

Margo — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 19:03:36 +0000

So I have been in a Muse-less slump again. Inspiration has not been my companion, days have passed and my fingers have not felt the urge to run eagerly across the keyboard of my computer. There has been no “de-pression” and I have not sighed deeply, mournfully, every time I walked past lap-top.

I no longer struggle with feeling inadequate or as if I “should” be writing, no matter what. I am totally comfortable with the fact that there are periods when inspiration pours down on me and through me like the waters in a continuously gushing fountain. And there are other times when I seem to be walking through an arid desert. But at least I know that the oasis is just a little way across the dunes and I have learned to be patient until it comes into sight. I refuse to accept mirages as excuses just to get on the computer.

At the moment I am on vacation with my husband in Orlando, Florida. It’s become a yearly tradition for us now during the Thanksgiving week. We have a small time-share and we come away from our “normal” routine and just relax together. But that in and of itself always brings some small rearranging within myself. It’s that “change” thing again.

I have to adjust to not having “my stuff” around me, although, not hindered by luggage restriction (we drive here), we do our best to bring whatever we want to have with us. This includes lap-tops, games (in my husband’s case), books (that’s me), and I lug everything I need to do my yearly Christmas mail drop.

I have hundreds of cards, stamps, address labels, silver and gold gel pens, purple pens, etc and while Rich plays games or does his geekie stuff on his Net-book, I attack my list of approximately two hundred friends around the world. Being in the military you either choose not to make friends because you’re constantly moving, or you make lots of friends and stay in touch. I fall into this second category.

So for part of each day I have been writing inside cards, addressing envelopes, attaching stamps and applying Christmas stickers. The weather has not been wonderful so I have only been to the pool twice in four days. But because I have to be outside, my Christmas card project takes place on the balcony overlooking the pool.

When I’m not card writing, I bring my current book out and read with the noise of the pool’s waterfall in the background. The resort is full at the moment and is hosting quite a few families so I am grateful that the overall peacefulness is not broken by shouts and screams and general noise created by many people gathered within a restricted area. I am mostly just grateful to God that we are able to do something like this given today’s economic climate.

Today must have been “breakthrough” day, although I think it started yesterday evening but we had plans to go out. When I got up this morning, I knew I was going to write: wasn’t sure quite what about, but that is often the case. The subject matter was not fully formed in my mind but there was a bubbling sensation in my heart and soul and I knew I needed to sit at my lap-top.

I think that God must have arranged the weather to accommodate this plan too. We had actually thought of going to the Holy Land exhibit today but, upon seeing the steady rain and the general all-over grayness of the day, we changed our minds and chose to “stay home”. I have to admit there was an internal, silent sigh of gratitude and my eyes went straight to my lap-top.

So here I am, words running from my brain, through my fingers, over the keyboard, and onto the screen. It just never ceases to amaze me watching and reading the end result of this process. I hope you, the reader, can share and appreciate the joy that my writing brings to me. Already there are thoughts running around in my head about the great murder mystery dinner theater we enjoyed on Monday evening. Then last night we got to experience the incredible Blue Man Group and I have so much to say about that.

We have been to see the awesome actress Sandra Bullock putting in the performance of a lifetime in Blind Side, and we also visited the quaintly interesting and somewhat Europeanized town of Winter Park. Even our weekly attendance at Mass on Sunday was in the very beautiful and unique “shrine church” of Mary, Queen of the Universe. But these will all be inspiration for other postings. The Muse has been most generous in her gifts again!

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Spiritual Growth: More Prayer Power

Margo — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 01:53:19 +0000

I have focused on prayer in several of my postings: Prayer- A Tool Of Spirituality; Spirituality & Shared Wisdom- Tough Times And Prayer; Sacred Riding- My Harley Prayer Time; Spiritual Growth- Personal Prayers. I have also mentioned prayer many times in other postings which relate to different subject matter. This is probably because prayer is such an important part of my spiritual life.

When I think about it, prayer makes up the greater part of my day. Now don’t start thinking I’m some pious freak who spends all day in church. Not so. But prayer has become an integral part of everything that I do throughout my days. You see prayer for me does not have to be always in a formal “religious” or church setting.

As I go about my daily activities I have a conscious contact with my Creator, whether I am making beds, doing the laundry, or cooking the next meal. I will either be thanking Him for blessings received (or those yet to come), or praising Him for the glory of his creation, or making intercessions on behalf of people who have asked for prayers.

Sometimes I will be letting Him know about a resentment I may be struggling with, and at other times I let Him know how angry or upset I am about a particular situation. And then again, I may be telling Him that I am tired and wished I had a wife to make the beds, to do the laundry, and to cook those meals!!!

I try to remember every day to invite God into my day with me. When I get into the car I pat the passenger seat and ask him to ride along with me. I usually tell him what I think about some of the other drivers on the road and ask Him to keep me safe! Wherever I go, whatever I may be doing, I have my conversation with God. I totally trust that He is there 24/7 for me.

The other day during a purge of some old files, I came across this exquisite prayer that I would like to share with you.

THANK YOU

How wondrous are Your ways, God. How wondrous are Your ways. It is you I see in the beauty of the trees and the loveliness of the flowers. It is You I feel in the stillness of the mountains and the grandeur of the seas. When I gaze into the eyes of those around me, You are there. When I look into a mirror, it is You I am looking at – and You I am looking with!

In my times of highest joy and most contentment, there You are. In my times of lowest despair and disappointment, I find You still. Thank You, God, for Your faithfulness even when I was not aware.

Your love expressing through me is as gentle as the baby lamb – unafraid, tender, pure. It reaches out to bless the lives of those in my world.

Your power and strength expressing through me are as mighty and unyielding as the crashing waves and giant redwoods. They give me courage to do what I must do and to help those I must help.

Your peace expressing through me is as deep and comforting as a thousand lullabies. It soothes my pains and brings me the peace that allows me to bring serenity to others in my life. Thank You, God for creating me and using me to express more of Yourself in all ways.

May my mouth ever utter only kind words. May my eyes ever see only beauty. May my ears ever hear only the sweet sounds of life. May my heart ever harbour only compassion and love, for these are Your ways. Thank You for my growing awareness of You – for the knowing deep within my soul that You are all.

How wondrous are Your ways, God, how wondrous are Your ways.

I have no idea where this prayer came from. It is typed on a single sheet of paper with no reference to author or date. It must be from a British source because of the spelling of the word “harbour” in the last paragraph. I guess it really doesn’t matter where it originated from. What matters is the content which I find to be utterly beautiful.

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Self Nurturing: Holistic Health

Margo — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 17:50:05 +0000

I am a firm believer in taking care of myself using everything available to do so. I also confess to not using all those tools to the best of my ability. I am a self-confessed stubborn, obstinate, procrastinating, pride-filled human being. There are times when I take the “I can fix it in my time and in my way” mantra to the edge of insanity!

However, I do not live like that most of the time – thank God. With a great deal of help and support from too many people to be able to name individually (although some of them were mentioned in my posting Mentors- Along the Path of Life) , I have found many ways and many tools to help myself. I have also come to understand that my schedule does not always align with God’s schedule, or the universe’s schedule, or friend’s or doctor’s schedules! And along the way I have acquired a little patience and a little humility and learned to live in joy.

I know that I have mentioned in previous postings that I use massage and Reiki as part of my preventive health measures. Although some massage some of the time specifically helps any physical challenges that I may be facing, massage can always help, as long as I am completely open to it, my mental, emotional and spiritual well-being too. Reiki, I believe, works in the opposite way. I find that Reiki always brings me comfort, healing, and alignment on the emotional, spiritual, and mental levels and can also help on the physical plain. In my personal opinion Reiki is “God medicine”.

There are many other forms of alternative therapy and also different lifestyles that can be used to better our general health and well-being. Here I mention just a couple because they are also my own “weak areas” (read: areas in which I procrastinate or am pridefully stubborn!). We read frequently that we are what we eat, which means that in some way I eat too much fat/wrong carbohydrate content because I am about fifty pounds overweight:-(.

Please understand (and here come a lot of excuses masquerading as reasons, I’m sure!) that I do not “overeat” in the generally recognized fashion. I do not attack all-you-can-eat buffet lines going back as many times as possible because it’s a “good deal” – although I have done that in the past. I do not eat “junk” food: I may have one or two hamburgers a year and perhaps one hotdog a year at the church picnic.

I do not eat chips frequently; I’ll have a handful with salsa if we happen to eat out at a Mexican restaurant. My pantry is not full of Twinkies, or Ho-Ho’s, or chocolate chip cookies, or Oreos. However, I do enjoy a good dessert when we go to a restaurant that offers them, and I will have a chocolate binge once in a while that usually lasts for about a week to ten days. All my meals are made from scratch using fresh products – no frozen or canned or packaged stuff.

But what I have to admit to is that sometimes I could eat less than I do. I could put half of what I eat on my plate and still be feeding my body enough. I just don’t want to if it’s something that I really like. I should stop eating bread and pasta and rice – but I love it too much, and so for right now I’m not willing to give those items up.

Along with the food lifestyle, and hand-in-hand with it really, is the exercise thing. Do you know what my biggest excuse is in this area? I don’t want to give up a whole hour exercising(even if it is broken down into small bite-size ten minute segments during the day!) when I have so much else to do. And right now, this very minute as I’m writing that, I am feeling just the teenziest, weenziest bit guilty because didn’t I just write a posting (Reading Or Writing- It’s Still About Words) in which I confessed to spending all my time reading for about ten days straight?

So here I am, this imperfect human being making my best effort along life’s path. But what brought this whole subject up in the first place is that right now I have an irritating tickle cough. It came on some time over the weekend and was preceded by a couple of days of not feeling quite right. I immediately started treating myself with Silver Shield, double dosing my Vitamin C, and taking Oscillococcinum (don’t feel bad – I can’t pronounce it either!), a homeopathic product made by Boiron. The thing is it hasn’t blossomed into flu nor have I had fever or feel sick.

I do not like putting chemical medications in my body unless I absolutely, life-or-death have to. I choose to take many different supplements and a whole food grain to support my health system. I haven’t had flu or a really bad throat in a few years and I’m sure that’s because I preventatively take care of my health. In fact, any real health issues that exist in me today (high blood pressure, cholesterol, reflux) could all be taken care of if I ate differently and exercised more!!

I also go to a Board Certified Holistic doctor once every three months because I know that she takes into consideration my whole being (mental, emotional and spiritual as well as the physical) when she treats me. There is also a level of compassion in my sessions with her that I do not experience with a “traditional” doctor. If I could afford it I would go once a month but unfortunately insurance doesn’t cover my visits with her so that’s out-of-pocket expense for me. But I care enough about myself to sacrifice in other areas to afford her.

Maybe one day we will be offered the freedom, under whatever health care we have, to choose holistic health care along side traditional health care. Actually traditional health care through the ages used to be more holistically based until the last century or so. And of course today, fuelled by greed and power, most of the big pharmaceutical companies will probably fight tooth and nail against that.

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Spiritual Growth: Personal Prayers

Margo — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 03:29:07 +0000

Over time I have been asked to write prayers for different occasions. I would like to share three prayers with you today. The first is an “Artist’s Prayer”. At the time of writing I was following the book the Artist’s Way written by Julia Cameron.

This is quite an amazing book which sets out a twelve week course. The sub-title of the book is A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. I have actually been through this book twice: the first time alone, the second time (about three years later) with a group of four other women. I grew immensely both times around.

At the end of each chapter there are a series of “tasks” to be completed before the next week. The following prayer was one of those tasks.

Artist’s Prayer

Heavenly Father, Artist Supreme,
You are the Divine Creator of this awesome universe. I humbly, yet courageously, ask You to allow me to be a co-creator with You.

I open my heart, my soul, my mind, and my body so that Your creative energy may flow through my being, that I may experience Your divine talent. Bless the products of my hands, my eyes, and my mind and let them reflect some measure of your majestic beauty.

Allow me to find and work with others who also seek Your divine guidance, Your artist’s touch, as they work to produce their own creations. Let me grow in light and love as I allow Your divine energy to flow through me.

Amen. ( May 1999)

In March of 2005 I organized a Women’s Day event in my home. March 8th is International Day of the Woman and while I lived in Italy I held about three of these events. They were always very well received, so once I had established a grand circle of women friends in Florida I decided to go ahead and plan one here. There were about thirty women present and this was the opening prayer that I wrote.

OPENING PRAYER

ABBA, help me to be humble enough and wise enough to recognize that all people do not call You by the same name, nor do they reach You by the same path.

You are known as God, Allah, Great White Spirit, Kali, Jesus, Grandfather Sky, Buddha, Jehovah, Messiah, LAKSHMI, Shivha, Holy Spirit, Ganisha, Grandmother Earth, Kwan Yin, just to mention a few of Your names.

Today we embrace You in the way best known to each of us personally. We ask that You be present here and bless us with Your love, Your light, Your energy, Your peace, Your joy, and Your grace.

We ask for Your guidance and Your wisdom that You may help us to reach our full potential as women so that we may accomplish our mission on this earth to the very best of our ability.

We ask this in Your name and for Your honor and glory.

Amen. (March 2005)

The last prayer that I would like to share with you is one that I wrote for an evening of fellowship with the women of CRHP (Christ Renews His Parish) at my church.

Abba, Father, we yearn to grow abundantly in Your grace, just like the carefully tended vine that produces a bountiful harvest. We ask that You prune us when it is necessary, helping us to be rid of negative attitudes and defects of character. Nourish us with Your care, Your compassion, and Your love. Pour the refreshing waters of the Holy Spirit upon us, that we may grow more and more each day in Your likeness and then minister to others as Your disciples.

These things we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen. (September 2006)

I love using the creative word to honor the God of my understanding. I also enjoy being as inclusive as possible when I am working with a wider group of people than just my church group. Prayer is a perfect way to honor God, to give Him praise, to thank Him, and to get closer to Him. And we are all capable of creating spontaneous prayers, words that come straight from the heart to our Creator.

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Self Nurturing: GrillSmith Of Tampa, FL

Margo — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 02:15:00 +0000

Well I just don’t care what others may think, I think that eating really good food falls into the “self nurturing” category! There’s no denying that I am a “foodie”, whatever that may mean. To me it means that I take absolute delight and pleasure in eating exquisite food, especially when it is perfectly presented and superbly served.

So let me introduce you to GrillSmith of Tampa, Florida. My husband and I ended up there by “default”. Best default I’ve experienced in a long time! We were on a trip to Tampa (Musings- The Muse Is Back) and needing to go to Mass, we googled to find out which Catholic church was closest to the Westin Hotel where we were staying. We found Christ the King on South Dale Mabry Street.

Next in order was to google and find out what restaurants were close to the church. There were a couple, one name that I recognized from a chain across Florida and which I wanted to try, and the other was GrillSmith. (I remember thinking “Oh, that sounds like your typical ‘sports bar’). When we came out after Mass, we looked around and Richard saw GrillSmith just down the road. I had a moment of disappointment but decided it wasn’t worth making a fuss about. Was I glad!

When we walked in we were greeted by the hostess and the shift manager. The ambiance was low-light (not dark) and warm. It was very spacious inside and although it was quite full it did not give the appearance of being crowded. Glancing quickly around me as we were seated I noticed that there was a wide cross section of all ages: young people, young couples, families with children, older couples. Spanning the width at the end of the restaurant was an impressive bank of “grill stations”.

We were quickly approached by our server, Tom, who soon let us know that he had a sense of humor and a good sense of service. The menu was extensive but not overwhelming and offered such a unique variety of dishes that I was salivating moments into reading it. We needed more time to make our selections so Tom delivered the drinks and gave us our space.

Segments of the menu were labeled Small Plates (appetizers), Grilled Tortilla Pizzas, Fresh Salads, Fitness Plates, Steakburgers and Sandwiches, Pasta, Food On The Fire, Steaks and Chops, and Desserts. There were maybe five or six offerings in each segment. Each one sounded more succulent than the other. I would mentally choose one then read another and change my mind! Everything was so tantalizingly described.

We eventually narrowed our choices down, choosing to share an appetizer – Sticky Thai Wings (we chose the smaller portion; six rather than a dozen, and lived to regret it!!). You’d think that wings were wings? Not so my friends. Some wings are good, some are excellent, and some are pure heaven – as were these. They were served to us in the form of an artistic mini-mountain, abundantly drizzled with a sesame-honey sauce sprinkled with sesame seeds. However, because they had been marinated in a citrus five spice hot chili there was the most marvelous under kick to the overall flavor:-).

You remember at the beginning of this posting I declared myself to be a “foodie”? Well, my husband is the opposite. Don’t get me wrong; he enjoys good food, but he doesn’t “rave” about it! Some dishes elicit slightly more excitement than others for him but he’s mainly an “it’s fine” or it’s good” kinda guy when you ask him how his food is. Very, very occasionally he’ll pronounce a “really good” about the food.

By the time he’d finished his first wing he was “mmm-mmmm-mmning” it. After the second wing he was licking his fingers and said something like “gosh these are soooooo good” followed by “this sauce is reeeeally good”. And as he polished off his third (and last!!), he made a comment along the lines of “Babe, you must dip your bread in the sauce”. High compliments from the likes of my husband!

Our main courses arrived. Richard had decided on the Margarita Grilled Tortilla Pizza. It arrived sizzling and looking delicious. I think (I didn’t check this out with him) that he was a little disappointed when he saw it. Maybe he was expecting something a little more substantial looking. I know I was. But when he bit into it all disappointment (real or imagined) and doubt disappeared. He was back at that “mmm-mmmm-mmning”, and as he finished it I heard another, “This is reeeally good”.

My final choice had been from the Fitness Plates. I figured if I was going to indulge I might as well make it healthy indulgence! Tom served me the Avocado Salmon. This was the best grilled salmon I have ever tasted, and laced over the top of it was a divine crushed avocado and wasabi concoction. The salmon was accompanied by smashed cauliflower and fresh grilled vegetables. I have had mashed cauliflower before, and it was OK. This was another one of those “heaven” moments; it was delicious!

In between our courses and as I was enjoying each bite of everything, I had been discreetly eyeing the various dishes that were being served to our fellow diners. The presentations were wonderful and some of them quite curious. I totally forgot to ask Tom what the small bamboo baskets were piled high with something – delectable I’m sure. Perhaps a mountain of lightly battered calamari??

For the moment GrillSmith is only located in the Tampa area. I’ve checked out their web sight and there are five existing restaurants in the Tampa, Clearwater, Lakeland area. A sixth location will open up this fall in Brandon. I’m hoping that they will eventually expand out across the State. In the meanwhile, if you’re in the Tampa area don’t miss out on this fine and exciting dining experience. And for those who are wondering, prices are very reasonable for this kind of quality and service. (Our bill for an appetizer, two “mains”, freshly baked breadsticks, and unlimited soft drinks was $42.)

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Reflection: Matthew 16:18

Margo — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 03:30:06 +0000

Yes, that’s the Matthew in the Bible, so if you’re not “into” the Bible you might be feeling turned off right now. However, I encourage you, dare you even, to be open-minded and see what I have to say. I’ve already declared myself in previous blogs as “spiritual”, but I think I’ve also shown you that I’m not “holier than thou” and that I have a great sense of humor. So come along for the ride.

I was asked to do a reflection on this Bible verse for a candlelight service that was part of a retreat. No guidelines were given other than I had about seven minutes to speak. So I looked up the verse in the Bible to get the exact words. In my version it went like this:

“Now I say to you that you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell will not conquer it.”

So I sat back and I thought about Peter. He’s depicted in the Bible as rather an impetuous person, someone who led with his impulses and instincts rather than his brain. Hot-headed might be another way to put it. He’s quite a lot like many of us. I know he’s most definitely like me.

If I had a button to access that governed my actions it would probably be labeled “bulldozer”. I’ve already admitted several times that I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants person. I can still act without thinking things through clearly, throwing myself headlong and with great enthusiasm into whatever the latest project is. Can any of you identify?

Jesus was working with what he had available at the time and I find it interesting that he chose everyday, normal people to be his disciples. He didn’t pick out the learned or the scholarly. He picked fishermen and tax collectors, and during his day-to-day life he associated with the locals and even the “low lifers”.

I’m personally very grateful for that. It allows me, and many others I believe, to identify with these people and realize that if they were worthy then perhaps I too am worthy. If they could sit and talk and eat with Christ then maybe I can get close to him too.

And so Christ chose Peter, an imperfect man, to become the first leader of his church. Peter’s original name was Simon, but Christ renamed him Peter, which means “rock”. With that in mind I began thinking about this reflection and what I wanted to say. As I tossed the word “rock” around in my head, trying to relate it to my own experience, I began to smile.

You see, I am in a recovery program and when I stumbled upon it some thirty years ago, I heard the phrase “rock bottom” used frequently. It means that each person, before they can turn their life around, has to plummet to the very depths. He or she has to arrive at a point of despair and then be willing to surrender totally. And out of that despair,he or she needs to find a certain level of humility laced with a goodly dose of courage in order to ask for help.

So “rock bottom” tends to have a rather negative meaning attached to it. It’s kind of like a necessary evil. It’s a really bad, difficult place one has to get to before any good can come about. But the more I thought about it I realized that reaching rock bottom could be viewed very differently. Rock bottom could be seen as a place of firmness, of stability, and of strength. But before getting down to that base line of solid rock I had to clear away all the mud and filth and muck of my previous lifestyle.

In Ephesians 4:17-19 (yes, I’m going to quote a bit more Bible!!), Paul encourages us to turn our backs on our old way of life. "….you must no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds; darkened in understanding, alienated from the life of God ……… they have become callous and have handed themselves over to licentiousness for the practice of every kind of impurity to excess.”

Ouch!! I don’t know about any of you, but that struck a chord with me. That was how I was living before I turned my life around. So I had to do some house-cleaning. I had to change old behaviors and attitudes. I had to look into all the nooks and crannies, all the hidden recesses, and dig out all those dark secrets that I had been carrying around for years and throw them out. It reminded me of a song back in the sixties or seventies (may have been Kenny Rogers) that talked about the skeletons that we keep “chained to the walls of the dungeons in our minds”. Once this was done I had my firm rock on which I could build my new life.

Therefore just as Christ called upon Peter to be the rock upon which he intended to build his church (and “church” for those of you who do not worship in a specific religion can mean whatever decent way of life you are called to live), so I believe he calls upon each and every one of us to become that rock. Let’s keep that in mind. Let’s be encouraged to be decent human beings. Let’s keep our house clean and that rock cleared of debris so that Christ can use us to his purpose. Let’s be strong with each other so that “all the powers of hell will not conquer (us).”

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Vignettes: Signor Ludovic’s Story

Margo — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 14:05:25 +0000

I practiced as a massage therapist in Italy for about seven years. I came to Signor Ludovic via a local parish priest, Don Rafaele. My husband and I would occasionally go to the little Italian church for Mass and Don Rafaele told the story of Signor Ludovic to illustrate the gospel story in his sermon one Sunday.

Signor Ludovic was a Local farmer, a man of the earth with no formal education. He had worked the land all his life and raised eight children. Suddenly, at age seventy, he suffered a stroke that left him partially paralyzed and confined to a wheel chair. His whole reason for living, working the land, was taken from him. He spent all his days moaning his lot and railing against God “for what He has done to me”.

At the end of Mass I got up fully intending to leave the church and go home, and instead went and spoke to Don Rafaele. Before I knew it I had volunteered to give massage to Signor Ludovic if he and his family would like that and if his doctor said it would be all right. Several weeks later I found myself in my car with Don Rafaele, massage table, linens and lotions in the back, driving to Signor Ludovic’s home.

When we arrived Signor Ludovic was asleep in his wheelchair on the patio. He was unshaven and somewhat unkempt and he drooled in his sleep. I began to wonder what on earth I had gotten myself into and raised a prayer to God asking for His help to do what I could to bring some comfort, some release to this man. And so in April 1999 began a year long relationship that was to bring me many gifts and blessings.

Michele, Signor Ludovic’s son was very badly physically deformed and because he could not work outside the home, to him had fallen the role of caregiver to his father. He would undress him and help me get him on the massage table and when it was time he would help me turn him over. Initially Signor Ludovic said very little to me and would just stare at me in disbelief as I massaged him. I don’t think they knew how to take this purple-haired woman who had appeared out of the blue to offer this service.

Signor Ludovic wanted to pay me after the first massage (he was very proud), and I refused explaining that massage was a gift that I had received from God and that I wanted to share it with him. He cried and just hung on to my hand. I made arrangements to return the following week and once a week thereafter. Each week he would ask to pay and I would say no and continue to repeat that it was my gift to share.

It was about the fourth week, and after we had dressed him and put him in his chair, he crooked his finger at me and with a sly smile told me, “today I am going to pay you”. I began to refuse, but he ignored me and said something in local dialect to Michele who went into an adjoining room. He came back a moment later carrying a bulging plastic bag full of fresh picked green beans. With a big toothless grin Signor Ludovic said, “It’s a gift I’m sharing with you.” And so it went from week to week, whatever was in season and producing on their land, I would receive a bagful freshly picked that morning.

As time went by Signor Ludovic built up trust with me and told me about his wife who had died several years earlier. He told me how he had built the house he lived in with his own hands and how all he longed to do was return to the land. He frequently asked me why I came to him every week and I always told him, “it’s a gift from God that I want to share with you”.

His son Michele told me how his father no longer complained about his lot in life and was much happier to be around. He said that before I began coming to him, his father would break into uncontrollable sobbing several times a day and that now he rarely cried. He also said that the rest of the family enjoyed being around him more now too. Signor Ludovic told me that his legs felt less “heavy” now and that his back hurt him less and, like a true Italian, he also started to flirt with me a little!!

The weeks that Don Rafaele came to visit and sit and pray while I did the massage, he would talk to me afterwards and reiterated what Michele told me. He also marveled at the fact that he was being given the opportunity to see how the healing powers of God worked in many different ways – even through the hands of a purple-haired massage therapist!

But for me the most amazing part of the relationship with Signor Ludovic was the unspoken friendship that we enjoyed. He was able to communicate so much through his eyes, and the biggest gift he gave me was his pure gratitude and the total feeling of satisfaction that he received from the massage. His eyes would frequently seek out mine during the massage and he would either be saying “thank you” or “oh that feels so good” or “you’re here again – how amazing!”.

I also came to realize that he was giving me an awesome gift in the shape of a mental and spiritual healing with my father. I would frequently think of Dad as I massaged Signor Ludovic, and I was able to come to a place of peace and forgiveness with him for never having said “I love you” to me when he was alive. It seemed as though Signor Ludovic was saying it on his behalf. This was a huge blessing for me.

In February 2000, Signor Ludovic suffered a second stroke which increased the paralysis and robbed him of his speech. I would go and sit with him, place my hands softly on his head and hold him then massage his Hands, one of which was now totally seized up. He would grab my hand with his good hand and carry it to his lips, drool and all, and just hold it there. I saw the life ebbing slowly out of him so began visiting almost every day. His eyes had become rheumy and glazed as though he were absent.

I last saw Signor Ludovic alive in the afternoon of Friday 31 March 2000. He had not eaten for about eight or nine days and was very weak. He was sitting propped up in his chair. There were several members of his family around him. I sat with him and took his feeling hand which he immediately carried to his lips. When it was time for me to leave, I told him I was going out of town for the weekend and would not see him until Monday.

His eyes suddenly cleared and he focused them fiercely into mine and I knew instinctively that he wanted to “tell me” something. I gazed back intently into his eyes and “heard” him tell me that he needed to go. I could not speak out loud, so focused back and “told” him that he should do what he needed to do for himself and thanked him for his presence in my life. He kissed my hand and I leaned over and kissed his cheek and whispered “arrivederci” in his ear.

At 6am on Monday 3 April 2000, before I could get to visit him again, Signor Ludovic passed away. I have thought of him frequently over the years and am truly grateful for the gift of our special relationship, for the joy that he brought into my life, and for the quantum leap in the lesson of compassion that he gave me .

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Vignette: Remembering Cindy

Margo — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 23:02:08 +0000

I managed to drag myself out of bed at 5.45am today. I am not an easy morning person. Once I am up and get going then I am okay. It’s the clawing my way up out of sleep and letting go of the sheer wonderfulness of being snuggled up that I find hard. But I really want to create a routine for Thursday mornings; going to 8am Mass followed by a special Rosary with a small group.

When I walked into the church the first thing I saw was a closed coffin in the center aisle in front of the altar. We had a funeral Mass set for 11am. I am part of the Ministry of Consolation and knew of this, but hadn’t expected the coffin to be there already. Then as I took my place I realized I had sat behind Jim. So between the coffin and Jim I was thrown into the reservoir of my memory.

You see, another area in which I volunteer is with an agency called Community Hospice of North East Florida. I had been introduced to this agency by a new friend just a few months after arriving here in January 2004. My mother had been cared for by Hospice in London, UK during the period between her diagnosis of pancreatic cancer (12 February 1996) and her passing (9May 1996). So I determined that I would become a volunteer with the organization here in gratitude for those wonderful nurses.

I underwent training in July of 2004 and was assigned to my first patient in August. The main thrust of Community Hospice’s work is to be there in full support for the patient and family, offering compassionate care, and to help lend dignity and meaning to the patient’s end stages of life. My role as a volunteer is to offer respite to the main care-giver as often as possible, allowing them some time to run errands or have some personal breathing space without having to worry about their loved one. It is a small mercy that I feel I can give to someone in such circumstances.

Over the intervening years I have also trained as a Peds Volunteer, a Complementary Care Volunteer, a Spiritual Care Volunteer, and an Ambassador (volunteering on behalf of Community Hospice at Health Fairs and speaking to small groups about the services the agency offers). But back to Jim.

I met Jim almost two and a half years ago when I was assigned as a volunteer to his wife, Cindy. I will never forget walking into their living room and seeing the look of total fascination on Cindy’s face. She could not take her eyes off of my hair. My hair is somewhat noticeable – it is purple! As Jim and I talked I would look over at Cindy from time to time to include her in our conversation even though it soon became obvious that she did not speak, and always her eyes were on my hair. So I got up and went over to her and asked her if she wanted to touch it, just to check out that it was real. She did so, rubbing it gently between her fingers as though she were touching a piece of fabric. And so our relationship was cemented.

Cindy was diagnosed with Frontal Lobe Syndrome (I don’t remember what the correct medical term is), a disease that slowly robs a person of their emotions, their ability to speak, then takes away their strength as the brain shuts down pixel by pixel. When I first started visiting with Cindy, even though she could no longer initiate or maintain a conversation, she still was able to communicate in her own way. When I asked if she wanted something she would either just look at me with no real expression or reaction, indicating no, or she would take a deep breath in, raise her eyebrows, and sigh her breath out, indicating yes.

In the early months of our visits when she was still mobile, even though she couldn’t talk, Cindy had a mind of her own. We would be sitting watching TV and suddenly she would be up out of her chair and headed for the stairs or the front door. I would have to be quick off the mark to catch up with her and gently but firmly bring her back to her chair. If it wasn’t too swampy-Florida hot, then we would go for a walk in the neighborhood and I would be hard pressed to keep up with her! Often we would spend time in the garden on the swinging chair watching the birds and the squirrels.

It was on one of these rushes to the front door that she suddenly stopped beside a small cabinet just inside the door. There were a couple of objects laid out on top of the cabinet along with two Rosaries. Her hand reached out to touch these and I asked her if she would like to say a Rosary. Deep breath, eyebrows raised, great sigh out. So we each carried a Rosary back to our chairs and I began the prayers. Imagine my surprise as I realized she was whispering the second half of the Hail Mary. And so began a ritual that would take place almost every time I visited.

Cindy loved receiving hand and foot massages and when I arrived she would always check out if I had my purple tote with me. That was where I carried my creams and a towel. Sometimes I would bring paperwork that I needed to do and would immerse myself in that after making sure she was comfortable and didn’t need anything. But I would soon become aware of movement coming from her direction. Looking up I would see that she was leaning forward and her eyes were fixed on my tote. As soon as I touched the bag she would lift her hands, deep breath in, raise her eyebrows, sigh out.

It was during one of these massages that I was given the gift of the “presence” of Cindy. I happened to look up at her face as I was gently rubbing the cream into her hand and I saw a tear roll down her cheek. Initially I was concerned that perhaps inadvertently I had hurt her, and I let go of her hand, came close to her face and put my hand on her cheek and asked what was wrong. She just looked at me with those beautiful deep eyes of hers and lifted her hand to me as if to say “just keep on massaging”.

Another way that I shared time with Cindy was to watch DVD’s. Her all-time favorite was Disney’s Anastasia. I had never watched that movie before. I guess it became popular after my daughter had become a teenager and was beyond Disney. I think I could recite it word for word, song for song now. There was only one other video that competed with Anastasia for Cindy’s attention – Shrek, and I know that one pretty much inside out too!

The seventeen months that I spent with Cindy were a true gift, a joy. Being able to give her friendship and care was an honor and a privilege. But another gift that I received during this time was given to me by Jim. He allowed me to experience the true marriage commitment of “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part”. His love, dedication to, and care of Cindy right up to her last breath were deeply moving and nothing short of spectacular. I feel truly blessed to have been a part of their lives.

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Vignette: Mother-Son Love

Margo — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 01:51:06 +0000

Today we celebrated yet another funeral in my parish. I use the word celebrate because in the Catholic faith we chose to say a Mass of the Resurrection in celebration of the deceased being resurrected into new life with Christ.

I am a member of the Ministry of Consolation and so I find myself attending more funerals than the average person. As part of our ministry we prepare the church for viewing services and vigils which usually take place the day before the funeral Mass, and then for the Mass itself. We are on hand to greet family and friends of the deceased as they come to the services and to be of any assistance to them or the priest.

As I stood in the church narthex this morning greeting everyone, I noticed a mother and her son come in to join those already present. The young man carried himself with great care and dignity. He wore a uniform of sorts, some kind of cadet perhaps. His posture was perfect, and even though he walked with a slight limp, he carried himself “tall”. I found out later his name was Teddy.

In all the time they were in the narthex before Mass started he stood quietly by his mother’s side. Every once in a while they would look at each other and smile. I could not help but notice that it was more than just a smile. It was a communication. In that one act they seemed to speak volumes to each other.

Close by them stood another couple with a small girl of about three years old in a stroller. Teddy noticed the girl and stood staring at her as though mesmerized. After some moments, his mother touched him gently on the arm and he looked at her with a huge smile. He then turned his attention back to the girl for a few more moments before turning once more, the smile still upon his face, to gaze intently, lovingly into his mother’s eyes. Again I had the feeling of a long, silent communication between them.

It was time for Mass. We discreetly directed everyone into the church and Mass began. The ritual was beautiful, the songs and readings perfectly chosen for the occasion. Then came the moment for Communion and once again Teddy and his mother took front and center stage of my attention.

I had already received Communion and had just returned to my seat to pray when I looked up to see them returning down the aisle. As before, I noticed how tall and straight Teddy walked. His mother walked beside him and, with one hand resting lightly in the center of his back, seemed to gently guide him. But more than guiding, it appeared to be a sign of reassurance.

It seemed to me that Teddy was totally focused in the moment. He had just received Communion and his hands were folded in front of him in a gesture of quiet reverence. Yet as they walked together I noticed that with a slight movement of his head he seemed to keep his mother in his peripheral vision.

Once back in their pew, they knelt side by side. It looked as though it was difficult for Teddy to kneel, perhaps something to do with that limp. Then he slightly turned his head to his mother and waited. I don’t know how I knew he was waiting, nor did I know what he was waiting for. As I watched, his mother leaned in to him and brought her lips to his cheek in close proximity to his ear.

As if on cue, Teddy inclined his head just fractionally in her direction and she began to speak to him. In that moment I thought that perhaps she was saying some prayers for him, or perhaps suggesting some prayers that he might like to say. No matter what, the moment was precious, just utterly precious, and I felt humbled to have been part of a very intimate act between them.

What made this Mother’s and son’s love so precious and special? Teddy is a Downs Syndrome child. He is now twenty six years old. The unconditional love that flowed so freely between them was palpable. I felt privileged to see the warm compassion that this mother showed her special child. As I was allowed into their space and allowed to share their beautiful relationship,I felt as though I been given a priceless gift.

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Vignettes: Young Grief

Margo — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 23:08:41 +0000

He wore a bright apple green tee shirt. He was probably about 10 years old, slight in build with mid brown hair. His shoulders were hunched and he clung to his mother’s hand as they came into the church entrance hall. His eyes were red and he had obviously been crying quite a lot.

As his mother made her away across the narthex toward the tables full of photos and other small items, he held back a little – as though afraid. He cuffed His nose with his wrist and his mother put her arm around his shoulder. He leaned in, almost as if he wanted to disappear, perhaps hoping that if he did the whole circumstance would disappear too.

They approached the book where friends and family stopped to sign their names, a testimony of loving memory to Sophia and support to her parents. Yes, we were laying little Sophia to rest. Her parents had had to make that unthinkable decision to switch of life support. They had hung on for a few days so that out of town family could come to say their farewells, and perhaps hoping for a miracle that would bring their Sophia back to them.

The boy was destroyed by grief. His face was drawn and wretched with it. His mother signed and asked if he wanted her to sign for him. He shook his head and held out his hand for the pen. As he bravely added his signature to the growing list, he sniffed a couple of times and hung onto his stomach with his other hand.

I watched as he slowly walked passed the photos looking intently at each one. Tears rolled down his cheeks and my heart felt heavy at the sight of his young grief. And yet I did not wish that he shouldn’t suffer so. I realized he was learning a grand lesson in this grown up world. He was courageously grieving the loss of his little friend openly. He wasn’t trying to do the “manly” thing and cover up his feelings. His heart hurt at his loss and he was crying with the pain, not the least bit embarrassed .

They took seats inside the church along with his Dad and his sister. The funeral Mass started and I saw him lean into his Dad for a while, then once more against his Mom. He was feeling this every step of the way. Finally, it got to be too much, and he and his mother went back out into the narthex and sat on a bench under the window. His slight body was caved in and he clutched onto his stomach with both hands as if in letting go he might lose a part of himself.

So as I prayed for Sophia and her family, I also prayed for the little boy in the green tee shirt. I asked God to comfort him and to heal his broken heart.

After the Mass, my friend Debbie told me she had spoken to him out in the narthex and asked if he was Sophia’s friend. He had nodded yes. She then said that she imagined they had had some very happy times together and told him to think of just one time when they had enjoyed something really special. She then encouraged him that when he said his prayers that night, to tell God to tell Sophia that he was thinking about that one very special happy time they had had, and that he was happy to have that memory. And she told him in the following days to think of other happy times and do the same thing: tell God to tell Sophia about them. Debbie assured him that if he did this he would then always have happy memories when he thought of Sophia.

What an incredibly beautiful and love-filled gift she gave that boy. I know that it was God speaking through her. He has a way of using her in that way – to uplift others with her words. And once again I was grateful; grateful for community and the gift of love that we share with each other.

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Spiritual Growth: The Meaning Of Life

Margo — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 02:19:44 +0000

Among all the wonderful cartoons that Charles Schultz created with his beloved character Charlie Brown, there is one about searching for the meaning of life. Charlie goes to Lucy and asks how he can discover the meaning of life. After some thought Lucy responds – “Charlie life is like a cruise ship on which some people think that if they reflect on their past they may discover the meaning of life and so they put their deck chairs facing the back of the ship. Others think that if they look forward to their future they will find meaning for their lives, so they place their chairs facing the front of the ship. “

She then posits this question to Charlie: “So Charlie, on this great cruise ship of life which way do you want to place your deck chair?” After a few moments of thought Charlie replies – “Lucy, I can’t even get my deck chair unfolded.” Can you relate? I know that even though I have been on a dedicated spiritual and personal growth path for about 25 years now, there are still days when I struggle to get my deck chair unfolded.

Growing up I had a desperate desire to fit in, to be accepted, to be part of the in crowd, and yet I also found myself longing to be alone, not wanting to be bothered by others. I oscillated between behaviors that either attracted people to me or caused them to leave me in isolation. The relationships in my life were very dysfunctional: either I was very co-dependent or I tried to be the dominant partner. I put a lot of energy into trying to please others or being an absolute obnoxious rebel.

But whichever the way the wind was blowing in that particular department, the base line or predominant desire in my life became a quest for pleasure. And when I found it, in whatever fashion that was, then my main goal was to get more, more, more. And Western culture in general was on a path in the same direction – of more, more, more.

At this time in my life, age fifteen through thirty five, I was not consistently practicing my faith. I had been “force fed” religion from cradle through College. So when I was free from parental guidelines I moved as far away from my faith as I could. I became totally caught up in a way of life that was founded on me, me, me-ism, and neither church, nor religion, nor things spiritual touched me. And yet, every once in a while, when moments of pure bleakness came over me (as they are wont to do in that kind of lifestyle!), I would creep into the back of a church and “fox-hole” pray (you know: God if you get me out of this, I promise I’ll do that), to some God of whom I had no real concept.

I had absolutely no idea at that time that my soul was thirsting for wholeness. I was just aware, barely, that the more I tried to fill the gaping hole inside of me with material things, bad relationships, and other false gods, the more empty and abandoned I felt. By age thirty five I was on the edge of a deep, black hole of despair. Somehow, I had a rare moment of sanity, a God-incidence, and I was able to seek and get help.

I clung on, like a drowning man clings to a life raft, to a group of people who seemed to care unconditionally for me. They encouraged me to find a God of my understanding and in the mean time “loaned me their God”. I was able to clear the wreckage of my past, make some amends, then begin building a firm foundation for my future. Now let me go back to Charlie Brown and Lucy for a moment.

Lucy talks about looking backward or looking forward to find the meaning of life, and to a certain extent I did need to look back. This was so I could learn some lessons from the past and also see to whom I needed to make amends. But having achieved those two objectives I do not dwell too much in the past. Nor do I look too far down the road or allow myself to get worried about “what if”. Personally I’ve learned to put my deck chair mid ship and focus on what I have right In front of me. But that’s just my particular slant on that cartoon story.

Today the state of me, me, me-ism is no longer a part of my life, and I am able to to reach out to others and try to be of help. I focus on taking care of myself and living an honest, God-centered life. With the help of many amazing mentors who have enriched my life immensely, I have created a deep and personal relationship with my God which in turn leads me to desire more relationship with Him. And funny, the more I am in relationship with Him the better my life is.

As some icing on the cake, I have learned to turn to scriptures, to read books written by spiritual authors (Max Lucado is my personal favorite). I give myself the gift of attending retreats and spiritual workshops; sometimes I facilitate them!! I have created a faith based community for myself and I enjoy healthy relationships today. In another posting I mentioned my husband – a wonderful man who brings many blessings to our marriage and who is also my spiritual partner. And despite today’s frenetic and sometimes unbearably sad and cruel world, the empty and falsely satisfying life that I used to live has become a life full of meaning.

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Musings: Feeling Blessed

Margo — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 03:21:21 +0000

As I sat in my screened room this morning enjoying my quiet time with God, I felt so profoundly moved that a few tears rolled down my cheeks. I was suddenly struck by just how blessed I am in life. It’s not that I wasn’t already aware of this fact, but this morning, in that particular moment, it just smacked me right between the eyes, hit me in the solar plexus, took my breathe away.

I am truly blessed beyond belief as I acknowledge just the basics of my life. As far as I am aware I have good health. I also have medical coverage that allows me to take care of any health issues that may arise. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes to put on my body. I also have enough money to pay for these things and to cover the bills. Except for my mortgage, I have no debts. There are more people in the world who do not have all these things than who do have them. That makes me incredibly blessed.

But let me go beyond the basics and look at the other blessings in my life. The very fact that I am typing this means that I have been educated and can read and write. That I am typing this on a computer is another huge blessing. As I look around the “roof that is over my head” I recognize that I have many other-than-basic things that help to make my home comfortable and beautiful. And in the driveway there are two vehicles and my husband’s beloved Harley is in the garage. I feel so blessed.

The more I thought about the blessings in my life, the more I felt blessed. I am fortunate enough to have many friends. And when I say friends I mean the kind of people who truly care about me. People who would drop everything and come and sit with me in a crisis. Couples, singles – both male and female – who would come hold my hand or my heart if I was hurting badly either physically or emotionally. People who love to spend time with me, eating a good meal or going to the movies, or just sitting sharing from the heart.

I have a freedom to believe in the God of my understanding and to worship that God in whatever church I choose – or not. I am nurtured and fed by sharing my faith with many of the friends I mentioned previously, either through ritual at church or in less formal ways as I also develop my spirituality outside the confines of a church. What a blessing that is!

As I continued to sit there, a hummingbird flew into my yard and dazzled me with his amazing flying and hovering capabilities. He shone like a bright jewel in the morning sunlight. Alongside him bees were buzzing from bloom to bloom drinking their fill of nectar. Lizards darted along the back fence, stopping from time to time to puff out their pink necks in aggression or attraction, depending on whether the other lizard was male or female. Cardinals and Blue Jays flew amongst the pine trees behind the fence while several iridescent dragonflies flew lazy rectangles around the yard. And my heart was filled with joy and gratitude at the magnitude of blessings that fill my life.

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