Lent begins in a month… I've already seen several advertisements for programs, book clubs, virtual retreats, etc. They all seem to say it's not too early to start planning how to spend your time this Lent. But… is it? Are we really supposed to spend these precious days of Ordinary Time focusing on the season ahead? Or is this just a spillover malady from the marketing cycle, where everything has to be sold one quarter earlier? Is all this strategizing robbing us of today?

One of childhood's greatest gifts is the freedom from having to worry about the future. When children are properly cared for, they know their needs will be met. Adulthood brings responsibilities that require us to spend some time looking ahead. But with that comes the temptation to over-plan, to try to control every detail, to be constantly looking ahead. We end up spending so much time thinking (and worrying) about tomorrow that we miss living today. But this is utter foolishness. We are not guaranteed tomorrow. What if today ends up being our last day?
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How are we called to live this ordinary day? The call is the same one it will be during Lent. We are to live this day in prayer. And by prayer, I mean in relationship with the one true living God. This is a place of abiding, of resting, of being loved. It is the place from where all our activity should flow… even our planning for the future. When our plans are guided by the gentle voice of God, we are living with Him in the present moment. We are looking at Him, trusting that He already knows what is ahead. We return to that blessed state of childhood, where we are cared for, where we know our needs will be met.

​Our task then is to do everything in our power to enter into His Presence and there strive to remain. This will look different for each one of us. Our state in life, our season in life, our unique character traits, all of these will affect what our prayer life looks like, but there is one thing they will all require, and that is silence. Exterior silence is beneficial, but it is merely a means to the true silence within. Once we learn to still our hearts, we can abide in holy silence even amid the noise and the chatter. It is in that silence where we can listen… where we can begin to pray.

Perhaps God is calling you to sign up for a Lenten program… or to buy a new book… or prepare ahead. But maybe He is not calling you to do any of that. Perhaps He is inviting you to rest and gather your strength instead. The only way you will know is to listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit, to attune your heart to the silent sound of God's Word.

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As a human person, Jesus had His earthly family, that most precious of relationships, but we also know that He had friends. If you can imagine, a person who is love incarnate must have had many dear friends, people whom He accompanied, people who accompanied Him.
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Scripture tells us, in the story of The Raising of Lazarus, He even wept for his friends. 

Jesus wept because He loved. It is a love that came from interaction. A love that came from relationship. It came from spending time together. Even now, we are called to this, to spend time with Him, to become His friends.

We are not strangers to our Lord. He knows us, each and every one by name. He has always known us.

Such is His love for us. But His love goes beyond a relationship with friends. He calls all of us to His very Self.

We know that our Lord could have handled all of His work by himself. That was well within His power to do, yet that is not what He did. Instead, Christ called the many disciples to follow Him. He called them from all different walks of life. Fishermen, tax collectors, Jews and Samaritans, poor and rich, sinners… called all of them to a life in Him. He called the disciples to relationship both to Him and to each other. He called them then, as He is calling us now. He calls us to become Church.

The word Church means “congregation,” which comes from “to congregate” or to “put together.” We are meant to be together.

So, what is there to learn from all His calls to us? What do we learn from His desire to be among us? What do we learn from His time as a child and man, son and friend, teacher and redeemer?

We learn that our Lord is not a solitary God. He shows us that He is Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. His very substance, His nature, is relationship. He is Community, and He knows that we need that too. That is why, when He instituted the Eucharist in that upper room millennia ago, He left himself behind as a gift to us in the consecrated host. Sustenance for us to help encourage, maintain, and nourish us while still here on Earth.
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In the Eucharist, Christ is tangible, fully present. Those who believe and are fully initiated into the Faith can commune with Him directly during the Sacrament of Communion. What a great gift for us! We pray that we become what we eat and that, from that union, we may be as Christ is in this world.

Our Lord humbles Himself so greatly from His love for us. He splendidly, yet humbly, comes forth whenever the Priest consecrates the Host at Mass. The Mass is truly the greatest of prayers. It is both sacrifice and banquet.
Our Lord is majestic. We owe Him thanks, praise, adoration, and the gift of our presence, even outside of Mass.

We are always called to be Church, not just on Sundays. We are called not just some of the time but all the time, and not just here but everywhere.
Yes, we are His friends and His disciples. He came so that each of us can have a personal relationship with Him, that we may behold Him who loves us! This call to relationship is so that our eyes can see what our hearts already know, that He is King, that He is God, and that He cherishes us. Are we ready to answer His call?
 
Let us pray: All-loving Lord, our beloved. You came to offer us the gift of Your love. You call us friends, Your beloved. Help us to accept You into our lives, that we may walk together with You and our brethren on the path home to Heaven. We are thankful for Your love. Amen.
 

Dearest Eucharistic family,

Blessings as we enter ordinary time!

The week after Christmas, I was home alone cleaning up the house after a beautiful and lovely full-house of company. It was about 1:00 a.m. when I finished dusting, mopping, and putting things away. I was ready for my head to hit the pillow when I went to put my glass-bottom cheesecake pan up on the highest shelf. Yes, I dropped it. It was made up of glass beads which shattered all over the house as the pan hit the ground. Looking at my image of the Divine Mercy on the wall, I said to Jesus, “Well, I guess it’s not time for bed yet, Lord!” In my conversation with Jesus, the clean-up of glass became a prayer.

The thought of cleaning up in love so my daughters, husband, and I would not cut our feet on the glass inspired the grace to do what needed to be done. The responsibility to clean up the mess was a priority, something I had to do, yet following the star of our lives, Jesus, it was not a burden.
Like cleaning up the glass, we have a responsibility to pray for our loved ones, for ourselves, and all our Lord has entrusted to us. To protect our loved ones from the cutting, cunning darkness that surrounds us, we have the power to pray.

As we enter into ordinary time, let us live in the wonderment of conversing with God throughout our ordinary days and unexpected events that come our way. Our prayers, like cleaning up the beads of shattered glass, help us in fortitude get through this journey of life.

With so much going on in our world and with so many intentions coming our way to pray for the ones suffering, how can we imagine getting through the brokenness of life without prayer? Without prayer, we would be confronting life without God, who makes all things possible (Mark 10:27).

The Sacrament of the Eucharist is the highest prayer. Jesus, in His true presence, desires to listen to us. Waiting to be in conversation with us, “He makes all things new” (Revelation 21:4-5). Jesus comforts us in His peace as we live out the mystery of our lives.

Sometimes things are so shattered that they cannot be put back together this side of Heaven. However, we can pray, trust, and hope we will find some resurrection from the crosses of life, knowing that God will bring a greater good out of everything we ask in His holy name.

Although I loved my old baking pan, my husband was able to order me a new one.

Our daily plans, relationships, and life may not always go as expected. God will bring something new to us and create anew in us as we offer all to Him.

In the excerpt below, Saint Peter Julian Eymard reminds us of the poor windows that let the bad weather in. The turbulence of life, the unexpected and unforeseen things that come to our days, will bring us closer to the Providence of God and form our hearts in the love of God found in the Eucharist.
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Opening our hearts to God’s life in us evermore is a gift. Being mindful of the inner cenacle, the place where our souls are affixed to the altar of God, will keep us in the process, just as Saint Peter Julian Eymard expresses. Prayer forms our acceptance, enfolding us in the promise of what is to come. Receiving Holy Communion is our grace this side of Heaven.
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