God's greatest characteristic

I have been trying to write the same post for a couple of days now and it seems to be going nowhere.  I am getting pretty frustrated and this afternoon gave up but was even more frustrated because I really wanted to do a post about Divine Mercy Sunday and John Paul II's beatification.

I prayed and I really felt the Lord wanted me to put something out there so I am keeping this super simple and uncomplicated because well, I have realized that things should just speak for themselves sometimes.

Dad, if you knew him, was a HUGE champion of our Lord as merciful.  Dad lived his life emulating that mercy to all those he encountered.  Being the first and most rebellious of children he over and over again was merciful on my defiant little soul.  The mercy my father showed me I think is only a small taste of the undeserving mercy we humbly receive from Our Heavenly Father.

Dad wrote once, "Mercy is God’s greatest characteristic. The wonder of God’s mercy is that it heals us as God says, “I really know everything that you have done, even those things that you try so hard to hide. I know what you are really like. And I love you madly – always have and always will. And with my love, I forgive all your offenses.'"

Here is a sound bite of Dad talking about God's mercy at the Thursday Morning Men's Breakfast that Dad spoke at often.

The file can be heard as a WMA or an MP3.  On my computer it sounds better as a WMA but thought I would give both options.

Here it is as and WMA:
http://www.thursdaymorningmensbreakfast.com/sound_files/wma/2010/2010_04_08/20100408.WMA

And here as a MP3:
http://www.thursdaymorningmensbreakfast.com/sound_files/mp3/2010/2010_04_01/20100401b.mp3

Namesake

Today is the Feast day of one incredible woman (in my opinion)
St. Catherine of Siena.  I was given a great gift the day I was
born -- her name.

When asked whom I am named after -- an Aunt, grandmother, mother?  I would respond and still do, "No, I actually I was named after St. Catherine of Siena."  I would sometimes get the "Um, ohhhh, that's nice" response or the "Oh, I see, that is different" or just a blank stare.  But for some reason, even at a very early age I never thought this was strange or out of the ordinary.  On the contrary I was really confident and proud of it and I attribute that boldness to St. Catherine's intercession, for if you know much about her she was quite a bold woman!

I attribute my "fiery" personality to her and pray that it is a "holy fiery" personality although I think many days it is just "fiery." I sometimes pray, "St. Catherine put holy fire on my tongue and make me bold and courageous as you were, but if this is just me then please zip my mouth up and not let me speak."  As you might be getting -- a lot of times it was/is just me!

She was a woman with unwavering love for the Lord.  She sought Him out in everything she did. Many of her writings are still way over my head but I marvel at her intellect, her generosity of spirit, and for her great humility.  And oh yea, her boldness -- but I think I already mentioned that.  But really how many people can tell the Pope, "hey you need to get back to Rome!"

St. Catherine has held me through every dark hour, every great joy, and everything in between.  I turn to her in prayer for guidance through the Lord and revere her as a great model of how I hope to be daily.

I was not the only one in my family named after a Saint.  My brother Nicholas after St. Nicholas and my sister Gabrielle after St. Gabriel.  Every year on the feast day (the day of their death) we would get spoiled with a gift.  When we were little we thought this was the best -- a special day just for each of us.  Dad would get flowers for me every year, or when I got older send me an e-mail card wishing me a happy feast day.  Sometimes I felt a little weird -- I was getting all the glory and gifts and it was St. Catherine who gave her life for Christ in an incredible way.  She was the Saint, not me.  But what I realized is that by celebrating her day it was only drawing me closer to her by giving glory to her for the life she lived for Christ.

So, needless to say over the years I have accumulated A LOT of things having to do with St. Catherine.  I have been given countless icons of her and prayer cards abound.  I think I have every writing she ever wrote or biography, etc. that was written about her and in college I would write out quotations by her, like this one, "If you are what you should be, you will set the world ablaze."  I would stick these quotations in my journal or Bible to remind me on days when I was having a hard time.

When I went to Rome on a Pilgrimage through the Archdiocese of Boston in 1994 I was blessed with a day excursion to Santa Maria Sopra Minerva where St. Catherine is buried. (I tried to find the picture of me at the church but can't seem to find it).

I went back to Rome in 2001 for four months to study and you think I would have gone to Siena (her place of birth) and to the church where her head is kept (don't ask).  But, no, in 2001 I was thinking more about discotheques and boys.  Sigh... I would do thinks very different this time around.  But someday I do hope to go to Siena and spend time here and to walk the streets that she walked, sit where she sat, and pray where she prayed.

Today is a day to celebrate but it also is going to be hard.  It makes me think of Dad and the way he fostered this love of St. Catherine and made me feel so special (and Mom too, of course).

I pray that my girls, Cecilia and Mary-Clare will get to know "their" Saints and regard them, love them and have the same pride to be named after St. Cecilia, and Our Lady of Sorrows and St. Clare (she got the mother load) the way I have been blessed by being named after St. Catherine.

I wish I could be a fly on the wall today up in Heaven listening to the great conversation I bet my Dad and St. Catherine are having or maybe they are just sitting around eating pizza (as the girls would say) with Jesus.

ALLELUIA!

Alleluia! He is Risen! ALLELUIA! 

When I close my eyes and think of Dad today I envision him rejoicing up above with his parents, his brother and all his descendants, all the angels and saints (you get the picture) saying something to this effect: 

"Praise you Lord Jesus, Holy are Your, Lord Jesus, Glory and Honor to You, Lord Jesus. You are the Way, the Truth, and the Life, You are the Great I AM, You who died for our sins and was risen from the dead..."

Wonder of your Sacrifice

It has been a few weeks since my last post. I wish I had a computer plug that could attach straight to my brain because I have been writing blog posts in my head during this last bit of time and have had the hardest time sitting down to type all these thoughts out.

With the Easter Triduum upon us my thoughts are constantly going to Jesus' last days and hours. The end of Lent is near and I am not going to lie, I am ready for the Glory. I know that sounds selfish but this has been a long and hard Lent. I think I will call it the "Lent of Avoidance." Lent is a time (among many things) to let the Lord weed through our heart and uproot bad habits, selfishness, and to clear things out so to speak so we can be prepared for the glory that Easter brings.  But this Lent I have been more like a petulant child than a mature woman standing before the Lord. I have been saying things like, "Go away" rather than "Come on in."

I think it is a natural thing after someone dies to close up a bit and rely on distractions to help function but I have to laugh at the persistence of our Lord because He knows how stubborn I can be and yet I know he won't give up until I let Him have what I don't want to see or feel.

But Easter is not here yet and we still have to walk through these last days before we can say the beautiful "A" word! I have been thinking a lot in particular about Jesus' time at the Mount of Olives. For me at least, it shows how human Jesus truly was. How much he struggled, how he was afraid, and sad.

Luke 22: 42, 44 saying, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done...(He was in such agony and he prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling on the ground).

Thinking of Jesus' death I can't help but think of Dad's. And no I am not comparing my Dad to Jesus so before I end up on some crazy blog saying that David Thorp's daughter thinks her Dad is Jesus or something of that nature.  But Jesus was human and my Dad was human so in that sense yes, they are the same. Jesus is and was the same as us. He had the same struggles, fears, and joys.  He understands and He knows because He was just like us.  Thank you Dad for helping me appreciate and start to understand this amazing truth!

I do believe that Dad's final moments were really tough ones.  Thinking about those last breath's is really hard and yet some days I find myself obsessively thinking about them.  I say to myself, "stop" but I can't -- almost like picking at a scab when you know you need to let it be.

I don't know what Dad said or did during those moments but when I close my eyes and think about it I think immediately to the criminal asking for mercy next to Jesus on the cross.  I don't think my Dad was a vicious criminal, he was the opposite but I think we can all be that criminal asking for Christ's mercy.  I pray that on my dying day I will have the same courage and humility.

Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom. Luke 23: 42

I think of Dad asking for the very same thing and the Lord responding by carrying his soul up into Paradise.

Dad wrote this little prayer at the bottom of a reflection a few years back:
           "Eucharistic Lord, catch us up into the wonder of your sacrifice that transcends all time."

I pray that you too will be caught up in that same wonder, as I will
be -- filled with gratitude and joy for a Lord that loves us beyond all measure.

Abandon or Abandonment? I will go for the latter.

I spent this past weekend with great friends celebrating the upcoming marriage of our dear friend Clare. We were tourists in Boston for the day (although don't tell anyone but we mostly just looked in clothing stores), we had an incredible dinner at the Wayside Inn, stayed at their Carriage House Hotel overnight, and then had a grand brunch there the next morning.  While at brunch we met a couple sitting behind us celebrating their 57th wedding anniversary.  They were so cute together and chatted with us for quite some time.

I was struck by their gentleness toward the other. It was a real gift for all of us to see. 

That evening I went to church. The plan was to go in the AM all together but clearly getting the opportunity to sleep in because the kids were home won out! 

Mass can be hard now that Dad isn't here.  It is a place where I have lots of moments to really pray and think. During the week I kind of run away from this and distract myself in any way possible, clearly running from my feelings. I think about him constantly and in the quiet moments of prayer and reflection his face immediately pops into my mind and a real sadness takes over me.  Half the time tears will be going down my face and I will be worried that someone might see me.  

That very thing happened again this past evening at Mass. I was doing fine and then the cantor started singing the song, "Make me a Channel of Your Peace" and well, I kind of started to lose it. The last few words, "In giving to all we receive, in dying we are restored to eternal life" was what struck me.  I have heard this song a zillion times -- I thank going to a Franciscan High School for that. I thought, "Wow Dad! You were such a Franciscan at heart!" Dad gave of his life to serve others and to share the words of hope that Jesus Christ gave to all of us -- that we might die but by God's eternal love for us we pray that we too will be "restored to eternal life."

During the midst of this intense moment the elderly little Filipino man sitting next to me probably thought I was a little nuts, but how much of a great blessing this little man was to me last night. I will get to that later.

The First Reading was Exodus 17:3-7.  Basically the Israelites were not happy campers -- they felt abandoned by God and didn't understand why they had to leave Egypt. They had no water or food and were left feeling (they thought) completely alone.

I was looking over Dad's Bible study notes and he did a whole section on this very chapter of Exodus. I thought it interesting that in his notes he wrote, "C.S. Lewis, the fatal word, 'Encore.'" How I wish Dad had written more than just a little note on this! So, of course I googled  this phrase since clearly I am not a C.S. Lewis guru like Dad was. In Lewis' last work (published after his death) he wrote letters to a friend about prayer. He said, "Greed. Instead of saying, ‘This also is Thou,’ one may say the fatal word Encore." Well, clearly I wish Dad was here right now because I would say, "Dad, can you explain what the heck that means??" But I can't and I am definitely not going to try to give my own interpretation. I found though this one thing online from an author that I thought made some good sense of it. Basically that by constantly asking God for an encore all the time we are not really seeing what God has already given us -- thus making us greedy.

This is where the whole abandonment thing comes in. I thought to myself, I could feel abandoned by God for allowing Dad to die. But, I think deep down I know that as much as I might feel in a desert (like the Israelites), I know in my heart that the Lord has not abandoned me and if I just abandon myself to let go and give all my sadness to Him that there will be great freedom in that. That instead of feeling alone and lost I will feel part of a community filled with others who probably are struggling with the same exact thing -- that when we are hurting we just want to be alone but God will never let us be alone, ever! This was confirmed for me when the little Filipino man standing next to me outstretched his hand for me to hold it during the Lord's prayer. We are not alone!

Birthday

My Dad and Me 

It has finally happened. I was told it would take a bit of time and well, here I am. The reality of Dad not being with us has finally started to really sink in. The first couple of months have been kind of a haze -- coasting on auto pilot to get through the days. It has been a few weeks since I have looked extensively at pictures of Dad. I thought I was doing okay and then well, three weeks later I am filled with such sorrow.

Dad (second from left) with his brother's.

I was looking for just the right picture for this post because it is Dad's birthday today. And when I have to look at a picture instead of give him a hug, a funny card, a birthday gift, and help him eat the delicious cake most likely purchased from Konditor Meister it makes it even more real that he is not here anymore. But I know and I believe he is in our hearts. Ugh, but on a day like this it just isn't the same!

My two little one's have already discussed how Didi (Croatian for Grandfather) is going to have cake with Jesus and eat tons of it! That image alone makes me laugh out loud. When asked, "How old is Didi Mommy??" I said, "He will be 58." The response, "Oh Mommy, they are going to have to put a lot of candles on his cake!"

There are a lot of "supposed to be's" flying around in my head lately and celebrating Dad's birthday is a big one.

Gabrielle, Mom, and Dad 

Dad and Nick 

I chatted about it with the girls and made sure they were okay with it and we decided to make cards, get some pretty flowers and go to Didi's grave. Oh and of course cupcakes too and have a pretend cupcake with Didi. The girls thought this was the best idea ever (I think partly because they knew they were getting a cupcake) but nevertheless Didi will still have a party and we will honor him this year and let him know we love him endlessly, pray for him daily, and are forever touched by the man he was and the man he now is with the Lord in Heaven.

I find myself trusting in God's plan more each day.  Instead of tirelessly trying to figure out the "Why" in all this, I am seeing more clearly the "How" in how God wants to redeem this for His Glory.

Just tonight I was looking at files in the folder labeled "DMT -2007."  One of the files in that folder was called "Trusting."  I clicked on it and there were different quotes from authors on trust.  This poem touched my heart deeply.  I think I would save it in a file called "trust" just like Dad did if I came across it.  Simply Beautiful.

But God

I know not, but God knows;

Oh, blessed rest from fear!

All my unfolding days

To Him are plain and clear.

Each anxious, puzzled “Why?”

From doubt or dread that grows,

Finds answer in this thought:

I know not, but He knows.

I cannot, but God can;

Oh, balm for all my care!

The burden that I drop

His hand will lift and bear.

Though eagle pinions tire,

I walk where once I ran, This is

my strength to know

I cannot, but He can.

I see not, but God sees;

Oh, all sufficient light!

My dark and hidden way

To Him is always bright.

My strained and peering eyes

May close in restful ease,

And I in peace may sleep;

I see not, but He sees.

-Annie Johnson Flint 1866-1932

A New Heart Create in Me

First Friday of Lent... Pizza on the menu (typical but easy) and the kids are over the moon. Sadly, they could eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I used to make my own pizza and I'm thinking I really need to start to get back into doing that!  While I look up good pizza recipes I will leave you with a little something to chew on for the weekend.

Dad did reflections for Share the Word, a publication through the Paulist's in Washington D.C.  He did this for a few years and of course he saved all of them.  

Here is the reflection from March 10, 2000, based off of the readings for that day.  I love the image of placing our hearts on the altar -- WOW! 

Friday, March 10, 2000

Isaiah 58:1-9a ~ Psalm 51:3-6, 18-19 ~ Matthew 9:14-15

“My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit; a heart contrite and humbled you will not spurn.”  Psalm 51:19

Whenever the Offertory Procession at Mass passes by the pew where I am sitting I imagine myself hopping onto the gifts being brought to the altar.  I offer my heart.  At times it seems so puny, so constricted as compared to the heart of God.  It is a heart that can let so little of God’s love in.  It is a heart that can let out so little love to others.  As the bread and wine are offered in sacrifice, I want my heart to be placed on the altar.  These simple elements are transformed by the action of the Holy Spirit into the very life of Christ.  I know God will not spurn my heart which I want to be transformed so that it beats with all the intensity of Christ’s Sacred Heart.

Show me, God, how my heart needs to be unblocked.  Begin to transform my heart so that it is more like yours.