The Dove of Peace

I found this dove flying over at More Meredith Gould via Blue Eyed Ennis.




The Dove of Peace flies from site to site and through as many countries as possible. Please help it continue its healing journey and pass it on. Just right-click the image, save, and then place it on your website or send it to a friend.

It was a God thing

She was riding on the side of a four lane highway on her power chair. There wasn't really a shoulder at spots, allowing her a safe margin from the cars whizzing by, but my guess was she was heading somewhere important out of necessity.

I drove past her, then pulled into a parking lot driveway in front of her, honked my horn and lowered my window.

"Want a ride?," I asked.

"You bet," she said, as a car whizzed by, kicking a stone up that pinged off her chair.

So I let down the ramp and she rolled on. We had a nice chat about how we both have dodged becoming wheelchair pedestrian statistics. She told me she couldn't use her car any more now that she was in a power chair. The bus route was in the opposite direction of her destination and she said sometimes they passed her by or didn't lower the lift.

It turned out she was headed toward a nursing home. Her father is very ill and she hasn't been able to see him. It was miles down the road, so when I dropped her off there I told her I'd come back to take her home.

When she got home, she went down the ramp and turned to me.

"It's a miracle, isn't it, the way you came along?" she said.

I nodded.

She began to cry, but waved and kept rolling.

Yesterday I found out that my friend Stacey died of cancer. She was a good hearted soul and I'll miss her. Stacey was my aide for a short time. She always brought a smile and a hug. I know she was a spiritual person, because her actions told me so.

I can't say anything more about her right now. I'll miss running into her down here on Earth. But I do know she would have loved this story. She would have said "That was a God thing."

Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, OFM speaks about dealing with disability and chronic illness

Fr. Jagdfeld talks about dealing with post polio syndrome, deafness as a result of Meniere's disease, arthritis and other conditions through prayer and spirituality in this video. He also speaks about the changes in his life and perspective. He shares how learning to sign led to his ability to listen to confessions for deaf parishioners and how he has become a "popular confessor" now.

via YouTube:
CUSA Administrator, Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., shares his experience of what it is like to acquire a disability and how he learned to cope. For more information about CUSA, an Apostolate of Persons with Chronic Illness and/or Disability, visit www.cusan.org. or go directly here. I'm also adding CUSA to my blogroll as a resource.

In a world starved for meditation

I was reminded today of C.S. Lewis' words from The Weight of Glory that "We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship."

I spend the majority of my work time focused on others' problems. I cherish whatever free time I can muster out of life, but have always been equally content to spend it with friends or in solitude. This surprises some people, although I'm not sure why. I don't understand the bad rap solitude gets because I find it quite rich spiritually and, although too much of it can be a bad thing, too little of it is much worse in my experience.

I wasted a number of precious hours this week on disability-related care issues and routine medical care issues that were poorly handled. So there was little to no progress. I finally realized that the only way for me to get through this is to use this time for solitude, silence and private, despite the fact that externally I may have none of the three.

This is not an easy feat when you're surrounded by screaming children - or even adults- and forms, rules, prodding, poking , and the like. It is, however, a real test of whether my ability to meditate is true and that's a challenge I'll take.

I can report back that although no progress at all was made with any of the outward concerns regarding care, that I had a wonderful time meditating in the midst of it all. Therefore, I'm not starved for meditation -or friendship -right now.

In fact, next to God, I believe I've finally learned how to be my own best friend.

Following a raised savior

I've been blessed by meeting many people of faith in my life. And they have taught me that "mere survival is not the vocation of Christians who follow a raised savior", as Kyle Kramer wrote in America.

Kyle writes that even the desert "saguaro, those tall, emblematic, almost anthropomorphic cacti", is not a plant that survives as an individualist, but is one rooted in "community, hospitality and generosity". It starts under the shade of a nurse tree, then harbors birds who perforate it, and gives off fruits and food, adapting to life in the desert.

The article says that Jesus during his 40 days in the desert gave himself over to divine care rather than "grasping for the food, protection, possessions and power with which he was tempted," noting how tempting it is during tough economic times "simply to hunker down amid earthly concern."

How true this is. All we have to do is look around us to see the effects of the economic downturn, yet if we look a bit further, we can see people who continue to volunteer and help others, who ignore their own precarious financial situations and keep giving of their time,energy and resources. They are the people of faith I talk about. I know many are around, but they are often quiet people doing what may seem like small things that keep everything running. They are adapting to the desert times.

And they say things like this, promoting community:

"We'll get through this, but we have to help each other" and "Finding different, less expensive ways to do things has been a gift for our family".

They are generous and often say"I'm not using [fill in the blank], why not pass it along to someone who can?", knowing others have it harder.

They are hospitable, welcoming those in need with as much enthusiasm as those who are well networked.

Their lives are rooted and, because of that, they attract others to their strength and quiet dignified way of life. As I say, I've met many of them and I bet if we spent more time looking around, we'd find more.

People who know life isn't about mere survival, who aren't living in daily fear and temptation by material things do "embody beauty and transcendence ".

Is anything too hard for the Lord?

Gen 18:14..........Is anything too hard for the Lord?

Apparently not.

I've always hated needing help. I went into a profession so I could help others. It was not in my agenda to ever be the person who "inconvenienced" anyone. I consider myself blessed in so many ways. God has given me intelligence, resourcefulness and a good work ethic. And I always believed that those were enough to get me through any situation. By myself. Truck right through. I prayed to God, but I didn't depend on God.

When I acquired my disability, I decided that perhaps I should reconsider my Lone Ranger act a bit and accept some help. Not much. Just a small bit. And I began to pray differently. God was God, I realized I was not God. Disability or not, this was a very necessary and positive change for me.

I came to yet another crossroad when I needed an aide and Meredith came into my life. Today we are also friends, but that's a miracle. It was rough going at first. Instead of accepting her help graciously, I was frightened because it meant giving up those ideas I had about not needing help. And, boy , did I need help. Things were not working at all because I was pretending I didn't have a disability. Kind of hard to pull off when you have paralysis.

Her favorite line was, and sometimes still is "Are you trying to help me?" as I dropped things while she was trying to help me.

Now we laugh about my initial resistance to help, but the truth is that nothing changed until I changed spiritually. To do that, I had to let go of my idea of how things were going to be. Stepping aside out of my own way,so to speak, involved prayer and an open mind that my life would look different.

Yesterday, Meredith turned to me and said "Things are so much better now, aren't they?" and I nodded yes. Things are phenomenally better.

I can't believe the patience she showed toward my obstinacy and resistance accepting her help. I know God has been with us all along.

Nothing is too hard for the Lord. Even my head.

If I die, just tell everyone I'm enormously grateful...

Those are the last public words of Henri Nouwen, the Dutch-born priest who wrote over 40 books, after he had his heart attack. He is featured in the documentary Journey of the Heart: Henri Nouwen, which I saw last night on Netflix. (It was aired last April on PBS, according to this article about the documentary.)

Nouwen spent years teaching at both Yale and Harvard and gave up his tenure at Yale to spend a year in a Trappist monastery. While there, he worked alongside the other monks and struggled with loneliness while being out of the limelight. Later he was to move into L'Arche, a community where people with disabilities formed the "core group", living alongside others based upon the Beatitudes. Nouwen wrote about his experiences there. He was a complex man, who was admired for his genius, yet surprised people with his ability to engage in a child-like spontaneity. One author wrote that Nouwen dealt with the spirituality of imperfection.

In The Genesee Diary, Nouwen kept a journal of his experiences at the monastery, both external and internal. He was seeking a total commitment to God, away from the academic life of Yale. I am struck by his experience of silence, written about on page 133 of the diary, where he says that he finds "with words, ambiguous feelings enter into my life. It almost seems as if it is impossible to speak and not sin...In some strange way, speaking makes me less alert, less open and more self-centered." He then talks about St. Benedict, who wrote about the importance of silence. Nouwen wrote "Many people ask me to speak, but no one yet has invited me to silence."

I think of my Quaker friends, with whom I've spent hours in silent community. The silence is broken only by an occasional sharing or remark. There is a comfort in the crackling of the fire in the 200 plus year old fireplace, the warmth of my friend's guide dog's face in my lap, the ever present hum of electricity, added to the stone meeting hall. One time all I was able to do in that silence was imagine the schematics to put electricity in the old meeting hall. So unused to silence am I that I couldn't reach any other place, and afterward I recommitted myself to my prayer life.

Sometimes I yearn for the company of others who dare to be silent. I cherish the friends with whom I can sit and not have to perform, to speak, those with whom I can just be. Perhaps, in a way, one of the gifts I've received over the last decade since I acquired my disability, is that many of those who demanded things from me have gone on their way. Those who are left are indeed friends.

Sometimes all that there is left to say to others is that one is enormously grateful.

Practice gratitude? Bah humbug!

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.
-John F. Kennedy

I was talking to a senior yesterday (let's call him Joe) who gave me a list of complaints about his situation. I believe there were 21 bullet points he wanted to raise with me about various things, including medical, financial, legal, and social issues about his disability. We discussed his situation in detail and I was able to refer a few of his issues directly to another agency for immediate resolution, but couldn't take care of all 21 problems right away.

Joe wasn't happy - and he let me know it!

"I thought you were going to help me," he said. "Instead you're putting me off like everyone else. If you spent one day in my shoes, you'd care. But no one cares."

It's difficult sometimes when you're facing so many problems to remain positive. I know that. I gently told Joe that I have a few issues to deal with myself about disability.

Joe stopped his blustering. There was silence. During that silence I listed the problems we were able to address and suggested that both of us take a moment to be grateful for that, take a deep breath and work toward resolving the rest.

"Okay," Joe said in a much calmer voice. "But it's hard to feel grateful right now."

Sometimes it really is hard to "feel" grateful. I've learned, mostly from watching other people, that the lesson in this is to act out of gratitude, to help others, rather than concentrating on attaining some "nirvana" feeling of gratitude. I suggested to Joe that he find one thing he can do for someone else , no matter what it was. At first he said there was nothing he could do for anyone, but he called me back a few hours later and told me he gave one of his volunteers a compliment.

"You were right," he said. "It made me feel better. I forgot about what I didn't have when I saw what I could do for someone else."

As Thanksgiving approaches, I'm very grateful to everyone in my life who enriches it in so many ways. But it's not just a Thanksgiving "feeling"- it's an all year gig. I didn't "feel" that way, however, until I practiced gratitude in my life. This connected me spiritually in a way I never realized existed. It changed what I do with my time and how I relate to others. I see people around me who do this too - and they are the ones who taught me!

Practicing gratitude not only makes one more aware of what it's realistic to expect from others and oneself - it provides rich spiritual rewards that help us get through tough times -without wanting to say Bah humbug!

So if you're feeling down this holiday season, try doing a favor for someone else. I guarantee you'll feel better- and so will they.

New to the Blogroll: God in all things

Pay a visit to Fr. Eugene Lobo's blog, where he posts stories addressing issues we all deal with every day. About things like trust, grief, and, most especially , God's love.

Sanctify yourself

"....a solemn, unsmiling, sanctimonious old iceberg that looked like he was waiting for a vacancy in the Trinity” (Mark Twain).

Sanctify yourself and you will sanctify society.
– St. Francis of Assisi

According to St. Francis, sanctifying yourself is the best way to go about sanctifying the world.

However, we've all met folks who think it's their job to sanctify us. As Twain's quote states, it usually not only fails but results in leaving a negative impression on the recipient.

There's this little bit about being a Christian that interferes with the sanctimonious role: which is that the inside job, the spiritual work that we need to do on ourselves, is crucial to the whole thing. Sometimes overzealous people turn their efforts onto those around them and fail to attend to their own spiritual work. The results are harmful to them and to those around them.

Some of the people I've met over the years who have enhanced my faith life the most are those who work hard at sanctifying themselves. I see it in their prayer life, their service work and the way they spend their time and energies. At times I've felt both a sense of joy from being around them, a contagious and positive love for God as well as a realistic acknowledgement of the problems we face down here on earth. These people have been down to earth, able to converse with folks from all walks of life and remain open to listening to others without trying to preach to them. I leave their company feeling enriched with my spiritual thirst feeling quenched.

Are these holy people? I think so. But I guess that's not my place to say. All I know is that they are busy sanctifying themselves and it shows.

On the other hand, being around sanctimonious people drains me. For example, one woman told me that it is clear that Satan is alive and well since I am still disabled. I found myself practically giving her the hex sign (not easy for a quad to do). I couldn't wait to get away from her. Worse yet, she held a Bible in my face and said that if I didn't 'get' what she was saying it's because I hadn't read the Bible. This all took place before I could get a word in edgewise!

Unfortunately, I'm not the only disabled person who is confronted by sanctimonious people who thrust their answers upon us, often without invitation. It always leaves me wondering what they are doing to sanctify themselves - and rolling the other way as fast as I can.

Thirsty

In this week's Catholic carnival, I found this video of a song called Thirsty by Bryan Murdaugh, a blogger. Thought some of you might find this spiritually refreshing.

Movie review: Keys to the House

This film deals with the subject of a father who abandoned his disabled son at birth after his wife died in childbirth. Left in the care of relatives, Paolo reaches the age of 15 without ever meeting his father Gianni. It is arranged for them to take a trip together to the hospital in Berlin and this movie covers that trip and its immediate aftermath.

During the trip, father and son deal with not only the experiences at the hospital - in which Gianni becomes Paolo's protector when an overbearing doctor pushes him beyond his physical limits - but with their developing relationship as they get to know each other. Gianni's awkward attempts at parenting his disabled son range from tender to the absurdly comic.

Gianni meets the mother of a 20 year old disabled woman, to whom he lies about his relationship with Paolo, denying he's the boy's father. However, she picks up on the true nature of their relationship, calls him on the fact that he appears to be ashamed of Paolo, and in several riveting scenes talks about her experiences parenting her daughter. Their situations are in stark contrast - the father who doesn't know his own son and the mother who says her entire life has consisted of taking care of her daughter.

Gianni struggles with Paolo's physical and psychological limits, torn between denial and acceptance. The movie doesn't fall into the trap of handling this 'reunion' as sentimental; rather it contains scenes openly acknowledging that Gianni abandoned his son and felt he couldn't handle dealing with Paolo's disabilities. This had the effect of portraying Gianni as a human being with as many, if not more, limitations than his son.

In the end, this film raised more questions than it could answer, which seemed an honest handling of the complex emotions involved. However its best moments were those which reflected the pure joy of father and son with each other, expressing their joys, sorrows, fears, and, ultimately, love for each other.

Genres: Art/Foreign, Drama and Adaptation
Running Time: 1 hr. 45 min.
Release Date: January 1, 2004
This movie contains subtitles.

{visual description: A scene from the movie is shown where Gianni holds his son Paolo, who is laughing, up in the air.]

The Grace of Living with a Disability

I see the grace in my disabled friends every day. I'm not talking about them being inspirational, because this is different. I'm talking about living with grace and about God giving us grace. Both are true.

I'm firmly convinced that the reason many people who shy away from disabled people do so is because they see a deficit, not the grace. Because they're unfamiliar with how it is to live with a disability, they focus on what they perceive the disabled person can not do. Often their assumptions about this are wrong.

Many disabled people do things in a different way. We may not walk but we roll, for example. The point is that we still get around and are mobile. So what can at first glance look like an inability to do something may be a matter of realizing that there is an ability to do it differently. Unless people get to know disabled people, they don't learn this. No words I say can convey to anyone who hasn't been around a disabled person that our experience of living is as full and vital as theirs.

This is why I believe the word inspirational is overused. Living with grace, to me, is not about being inspirational. It's about embracing who you are and participating in the world and serving others. It's an inside job, not a press release. The part where spiritual grace comes in is that I believe God gives those of us with disabilities the grace to find our way in this process. God grants us his "unmerited favor". He guides us and leads us on our spiritual journey, as he does for everyone. God may be inspirational, but I'm not.

Sometimes our journeys are not easy, but that's not any different than for any other human being. Our journeys at times may be more difficult because of how society and others perceive our disability. There are other times when it's not an easy journey because of how we feel about the disabiilty and the issues it may present.

But when people look at disabled people and say "There but for the grace of God go I", they miss a very important point. Those of us with disabilities are not to be pitied. Disabled people live full and vital lives.

And we also live with and in grace.

Priest who ministered on 9/11 recalls the day

...in this story (click above). Fr. Nobiletti, a native New Yorker, ministered to some of its victims as he witnessed the scenes of that day. He talks about answering a call for priests to respond to the scene.

"At the scene, the priests were sent in different directions. Father Nobiletti was stationed near an ambulance in front of the Millennium Hotel, where people from the north tower of the World Trade Center were being evacuated. "It was a horror," he said. "People were coming out burned, screaming and disoriented.

"I was a magnet. People were grabbing me and crying and asking me to help them contact their loved ones," Father Nobiletti said. As he knelt over the injured, he said, "there were chunks of stuff coming down all around us. I'm glad I didn't look up."

If he had, he might have seen the news photographers capturing both the chaos and his comforting presence in photos that were beamed around the world.

He did look up when he heard the roar made by the collapse of the south tower. "I ran and held onto the gate at the cemetery of St. Paul's chapel. I thought it was going to be the last thing I was ever going to see. Two people were holding onto my thighs to keep from getting swept away," he said. "I couldn't breathe. Everything was dark for eight to ten minutes."

Via Catholic News service

Been there, blogged that

I've repeatedly blogged about inclusion on Wheelie Catholic. And I've certainly mentioned that, as spiritual beings, all of us are equal children of God which really blows away a lot of societal views on disabled people. I've also blogged about living with quadriplegia. Some days I feel as if all I've written just blows away in the wind. That discouragement, however, doesn't last long because I've learned not to invest much of anything in results.

There is a sense of peace that comes from "resting in God's love", knowing that God sees me in a way that is quite different than the world does. We have work to do to attain inclusion here on earth and that current reality affects how I'm seen as a person with quadriplegia. Because of these perceptions, it's often not easy working toward inclusion. In fact, because of the very barriers toward inclusion, including a lack of dialogue about the realities of what people with disabilities need to adapt, my ability to work at projects or tasks toward inclusion presently would require me to be able bodied - or afford a staff of folks to physically assist me at my own cost- in some cases . Sadly, I have to turn down certain requests due to a lack of resources and, to compound that frustration, some feel this shows a lack of commitment on my part when, actually, I'd much rather circumstances were such that I could say yes. It's humbling to realize that what I can offer is limited by the very real fact that I am a self supporting person with quadriplegia. I've learned not to blame anyone, God or man, for these limits. And that has to include myself as long as I'm doing the best I can with what I've presently got.

Those people who quietly travel the path of my life with me on a daily basis know me in a way that others never will. I've had a disability for many years now and have experienced everything from outright discrimination to complete acceptance and love. I'm very grateful toward those who have helped me learn that it's okay to take care of my own health and work toward inclusion in manageable ways - and turn down those 'gigs' or opportunities that put my health in jeopardy.

I'm not invested in succeeding with inclusion - somehow attaining a state of inclusion on earth - because that's not in my hands. I'm content with working toward it in manageable ways. And if all I can do is blog about my experiences and others' who have disabilities - well that's okay. If I'm asked to speak and I can get there, I'll do that. However, I have to deal with transportation issues now that I'm using a power chair. If I'm asked to write something and I can do it, I'll do that. A radio show? A magazine piece? You got it.

As I look back on a year of blogging toward inclusion, I've done all of these things and I'm grateful for the opportunities I've had. I haven't said no to anything except when I've been asked to do what's not manageable in my present circumstances. Only God knows what that is. And, perhaps, those who read my blog and care to learn what it's really like to live with quadriplegia.

The patience of a flea

Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections but instantly set about remedying them - every day begin the task anew.
Saint Francis de Sales
French saint & bishop of Geneva (1567 - 1622)

My Irish grandmother had a bevy of colorful sayings which she shared with us while we were growing up. Whenever the four of us clamored for something to happen sooner, she'd turn to us and say "You have the patience of a flea."

I never was very patient, being a Type A. And I wouldn't say that when I acquired my disability, I automatically received the patience I needed to deal with being a quadriplegic. (Yet another myth about disability falls by the wayside.) I'm more patient than I was but there are days when I have a hectic time at work and fret over how long it takes me to do things. Waiting for help is part of the equation. That's not always easy.

However, I've made progress. A few years after becoming disabled, I ran across this quote from St. Francis de Sales about patience. I realized that my frustrations arose mostly from a lack of patience - a trait I always had - not necessarily from what was going on. I had a choice as to how to react to circumstances. And, more importantly, I realized that it was okay to be patient with myself - whether it was in dealing with my tendency toward impatience or the fact that my quadriplegia resulted in getting things done at a slower pace.

I've made some strides with this. I've learned to stop and pray when my impatience descends. And, hopefully, my courage to face these imperfections, as St. Francis says, will continue - and that courage, I know, comes from God.

Mother Teresa's Crisis of Faith

Time magazine explores a new book about Mother Teresa in this article.

Jesus has a very special love for you. As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear.
— Mother Teresa to the Rev. Michael Van Der Peet, September 1979

The book, using letters written by her, documents her spiritual crisis, which apparently began at the time she started tending to the poor and sick and continued throughout the years.

"Come Be My Light is that rare thing, a posthumous autobiography that could cause a wholesale reconsideration of a major public figure — one way or another. It raises questions about God and faith, the engine behind great achievement, and the persistence of love, divine and human. That it does so not in any organized, intentional form but as a hodgepodge of desperate notes not intended for daylight should leave readers only more convinced that it is authentic — and that they are, somewhat shockingly, touching the true inner life of a modern saint.
..
The Rev. Matthew Lamb, chairman of the theology department at the conservative Ave Maria University in Florida, thinks Come Be My Light will eventually rank with St. Augustine's Confessions and Thomas Merton's The Seven Storey Mountain as an autobiography of spiritual ascent. Martin of America, a much more liberal institution, calls the book "a new ministry for Mother Teresa, a written ministry of her interior life," and says, "It may be remembered as just as important as her ministry to the poor. It would be a ministry to people who had experienced some doubt, some absence of God in their lives. And you know who that is? Everybody. Atheists, doubters, seekers, believers, everyone."
Via Time Magazine

Click above to read the rest of the article.

The love of Christ impels us

"The Diocese of Iquique (Chile) will hold a Social Week August 11-18 in order to train “volunteers in each one of the organizations that are part of our social ministry.” The diocesan director of social ministry, Marcos Rojas, said, “Whoever feels the love of the Lord who saves us spring up in his heart, cannot remain unconcerned without responding.”
Via Catholic News Service

What a compelling phrase that calls us as Christians to action- the love of Christ impels us! Sometimes I think we forget what an Abundance the Holy Trinity provides us - Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Not only have we seen Christ made man and seen God's love here on earth, but we have the Holy Spirit to guide us as we respond to the needs of those around us, both near and far. Some might respond to the plight of those in third world countries who need basic necessities - whether it's through sharing material goods and money or traveling overseas to give hands on help through organizations. Others respond to poverty or disaster here at home, such as Katrina. Others respond to those in their community.

One of the highest priorities in my life is to keep an open ear toward those who go unheard. Since I am in the disability community often I respond to people there. One thing I've learned is that I can't fully explain to others why, where or how the love of Christ impels me. Nor, do I think, He would want me to.

And what about all of those people who have acted upon the love of Christ to help me? I'd be here all day making a list! How could I choose not to respond after all the Love that's been shown to me in my life? When I read the Bible I often wonder if the lives of those who are touched by Christ can truly be explained in words because, to me, it seems that I often go straight toward prayer as I read about them. There seems to be a mystical connection in the very experience of reading the words which is far beyond my ability to understand or explain.

And, yes, I do think that the love of Christ impels me toward prayer as well. Prayer is another way to respond to the needs of others - and can accomplish much that I cannot in other ways.

Disability theme in comic strip "For Better Or Worse"

This comic strip has been dealing with a story line about disabilities in a school setting. April, a student who sees students with disabilities being teased in the cafeteria, speaks back to one of the bullies and her friend who has as peech impediment then gives a speech (this appeared on Monday/Tuesday's strip which you can also access from the link above). After she did this, the students offered support.

I showed this to a few high school students with disabilities and they all agreed that it's good to see bullying of kids with disabilities brought into the open for discussion. One of them really liked the ending , but another one felt it wasn't realistic because of his experiences when he tried to speak up.

However, he thought it was "realstic that April spoke up on behalf of her friend" and said he'd experienced that many times. He also said he liked the part about making a difference because it can give meaning to what happens and how he responds. He thinks that "speaking up is important even if you don't always see an impact" like it happened in the strip. He thinks sometimes " kids in high school are too busy acting cool to admit they did anything wrong in a group, but might come to a student privately and apologize".

I thought I'd share this with everyone and I want to thank the students for their feedback!


h/t Monastic Musings

Momentary Reminders of Prayer

I believe that one of the hardest spiritual practices for most people to follow is to slow down and give the Holy Spirit a fertile ground - and listen to spiritual guidance. This involves some discipline, a setting aside of time and the ego/self, and requires profoundly private prayer.

I enjoy praying at Mass and with others. When I'm in a group that says the Our Father or another prayer, I feel a common bond that is at once joyful and sublime. I do not feel a part from but feel a part of in those moments.

Yet, for me, in order to truly discern God's will, I require private prayer. I've done this since I was very young . I believe that I was led to it by the Holy Spirit so that I may find further spiritual guidance - when God wills it. I know I can't force this to happen- I can only be open to it. So I've always accepted that it was part of the process for me.

Over the years, I've had periods of time when I found it almost impossible to slow down and trust this process. I went through angry phases where I would turn my face away and refuse to pray. I found this spiritual separation very painful. I rationalized it by saying that I did not want answers or guidance in God's time or way but my own. When I returned to my usual practice of prayer and stillness, I felt renewed even though the anger did not immediately lift.

I've learned that it's best for me to think of my paralysis as an advantage in all of this rather than as a hindrance. Who better to practice stillness than a quadriplegic? But it's not as if because of my disability I have nothing to do or cannot do anything. It's because I need to plan when I move my body. Each part of it only moves after a bit of laying out a route. If I want my leg to lift, I have to lift it. If I want to get across a room, I need to get into a wheelchair. If I want to eat I need to go get a special device.

All of this gives me the gift of that split second, that reminder of my need to pray. It's only a moment but that moment has been a great gift to me. I often wonder if I was not paralyzed if other reminders would be placed into my life by God. I bet they would. I think everyone has them. When we listen to these momentary reminders and practice profoud prayer, in that stillness we can remain open to discern our next step - or roll of our wheelchair.