"For freedom Christ has set us free." -Galatians 5:1

In light of the upcoming celebration of freedom in the United States on the Fourth of July, I was pondering the meaning of freedom as I went to Mass recently. Freedom is not only a word, but a way of life that many Americans hold to be holy and sacred.

To begin, what is freedom? What does it mean and entail? The misguided and misinformed definition I once held is that I form my conscience to what I see fit, what I subjectively see to be right and wrong. Along with the culture, I often asked, “What is truth?” This proved to be a heavy burden to bear throughout my life, and I often found myself in state of restlessness and worry.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church,  "’God willed that man should be left in the hand of his own counsel, so that he might of his own accord seek his creator and freely attain his full and blessed perfection by cleaving to him" …Freedom is the power to act or not to act, and so to perform deliberate acts of one's own. Freedom attains perfection in its acts when directed toward God, the sovereign Good” (1743-1744).

Furthermore, each of us also has a conscience which, when properly formed and applied, can lead to our ultimate freedom.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church 1776 continues, "Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself but which he must obey. Its voice, ever calling him to love and to do what is good and to avoid evil, sounds in his heart at the right moment. . . . For man has in his heart a law inscribed by God.." The conscience is not something that we lay upon ourselves, but something that God inscribes on our very being. Our conscience is not up to interpretation, not up to the current fad, but a gift given by God to His children, in love, to know what is right and wrong—to know how to walk justly and thus live freely.

In the Mass I attended, the priest answered my questions about freedom by explaining that freedom comes from a well-formed conscience, from knowing where we are going, whom we are serving, and ultimately from knowing what truth is. A well-formed conscience frees us from the ties of the world and binds us to the truth of Christ,  helping us see the world through the lens of truth.

The Church beckons the faithful to seek truth, question, find answers, and ultimately find freedom by living in the truth. As Christ himself said, “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” By conforming our minds and hearts to  Christ, we better form and inform our conscience. As daughters and sons of God, this faculty is ours, it is written on our hearts. In this formation, we can reason and determine what is right and wrong, what leads to the path of joy and peace, and who we are. The conscience then frees us to choose the good, and when we fall, to repent and seek Him again.

This Fourth of July, let us ask the Lord to show us the path to a well-formed conscience to live a life of freedom. May we ask ourselves where we are forming what we believe, what truths we hold sacred, and if God will enlighten our minds to show us the path of freedom. Let us rejoice knowing that "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (2 Cor. 17).
 

The din of breakfast time in a house full of little ones required that I practically yell to my husband to be heard over requests for more milk: “I just feel so sad for our country. I feel sad that so many people are suffering. I’m sad about how devastated God must feel.”
 
Before he could respond, my sweet, sensitive 5-year-old hugged my legs. “It’s okay to feel sad, Mom. But, why are you sad for our country?”
 
And so our dialogue began. I gently told him about the injustices being faced by our Black brothers and sisters. I reminded him that God made each of us in His image, and that we are each deeply loved by Jesus. I reminded him that racism is a sin, and that Jesus conquered our sins by His death on the Cross. We love Jesus and honor His sacrifice by turning away from sin. And then I told him that we have work to do: as Catholics, we get to be like Jesus by fighting against racism. As believers, we are called to make the world more loving and just.
 
So together, we enter this mission of Christ. Our baptism calls us and sends us out, equipping us to live as members of the Body of Christ. The Catechism calls us “members of each other, (CCC no. 1267)” and as such, we have a responsibility to live that way.
 
Using the life and love of Jesus as the guiding principal of our faith, we are invited to acknowledge the suffering of those around us. Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians, “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now this is the body of Christ” (1 Corinthians 12:26).  This is unity as the Body of Christ: a people not positioned as ‘left’ or ‘right,’ for only the unborn or for only Black lives, but positioned at the foot of the Cross. Our Church, informed by the Gospels, calls us together to this work to uphold the dignity of the person, letting Jesus show us the way.
 
Jesus was moved with compassion.
 
At the death of Lazarus, he wept. At the woman’s desperation for healing, he allowed himself to be touched by her. He entered into the woman at the well’s loneliness and shame and met her with mercy. Jesus showed up heart first, revealing how we might accompany each other.
 
As a white woman, I cannot know the suffering of the Black community. I can, however, emulate Jesus by allowing myself to hear and see hurt and be moved deeply by it. Instead of rationalizing, self-aggrandizing, or refusing to acknowledge the pain of another’s story, I open my eyes to see the brokenhearted—even when it challenges me, even when it hurts. Like Jesus, I weep for the loss of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Rayshard Brooks, and so many others. I allow myself to feel and enter into the pain. I lean in until it makes me want to do something.
 
Jesus stood with the vulnerable.
 
 God made flesh dwelled among us and was moved with compassion for his people. Seeing the suffering of Martha and Mary, he raised Lazarus from the dead. At the ailing and fear of the bleeding woman, he extended healing and peace. He saw the shame of the woman at the well and revealed himself as God to her, declaring her worthy of His life-giving water. In these examples and countless others, Jesus reveals himself as unapologetically for and with the least of these. As Catholics, we are called to this mission.
 
In response to the just anger of our Black brothers and sisters, we stand in solidarity with all who experience the sin and effects of racism . Moved by this pain, we cry out to our Father for healing and peace. Using our voices, votes, and dollars, we stand for and with the Black communities and all affected by the sin of racism, declaring the value of each life and the dignity of each person.
 
I am tempted to avoid this work. Showing up heart first the way Jesus did requires a vulnerability and humility I often lack. I become disproportionately concerned about being comfortable and being right. I am tempted to keep my head down, refusing to be moved and challenged by new voices and stories. Yet, I am called to look up. When I pridefully insulate myself from the pain of a hurting person or community by my refusal to enter in, openhearted, I deny the dignity of their personhood by not validating their experience. By guarding my hardened heart, I fail my baptismal calling. Jesus concerned himself more with loving the low in spirit than the repercussions of caring. He entered in, listened, and loved each person—especially the marginalized.
 
So today I seek to live like Jesus.  I choose to sit in sorrow for the pain of my Black brothers and sisters. I lift up my voice in prayer, confident that God sees and cares deeply about justice, unity, and life. I choose to look to the mission of Jesus to remember my own. Join me.  

After nearly three months of what reminded me of the first Holy Saturday—that is, the experience of the apostles not knowing what was in store for them after the apparent loss of their teacher—I was able to participate in the celebration of the Mass offered at my parish. As a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, many of the faithful have had to rely on the remote broadcasting of the Mass in order to remain connected to their local churches. This, of course, is no substitute for the Real Presence, but in the absence of being able to be spiritually nourished as usual, we have been blessed that the pastors of the Church could reach out and minister to us as safely as possible. I witnessed the Church creatively address the problem of being unable to gather together to worship by utilizing the tools of digital social media to share scriptural reflections, homilies, group prayers, and simply to check in and care for various needs of neighbors. The doors of the churches may have been closed, but the people of God charitably opened their hearts.
 
After being apart for so long, I welcome the news of a return to the public celebration of the sacraments. Nothing could be better than receiving the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of the Lord in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist. Can a bride be apart from her groom? Are we not in ecstasy to return to Holy Communion when we are cleansed of sin in the Sacrament of Reconciliation? So much more fervently have I longed for He Who dwells most intimately in our hearts and reigns over us. As Padre Pio shared, “My thirst and hunger do not diminish after I have received Him in the Blessed Sacrament, but rather, increase steadily.” There is no better joy on this earth than to participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. The experience is beyond mere mortal words, but St. Thomas Aquinas aptly selected a few for the Church to sing at the Feast of Corpus Christi:

At this great feast of love
let joyful praise resound,
let heartfelt homage now ascend
to heaven’s height:
ring out the reign of sin;
ring in the reign of grace;
a world renewed acclaims its King,
through veiled in sight.[1]
 
I look forward to rejoicing with the Psalmist, “I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord!’”[2] The widespread return to the sacraments will be a most welcome act of devotion, if not a critical one, for our spiritual lives. Until then, we can participate in other devotions, such as spending time before the Blessed Sacrament (perhaps from the parking lot or via livestream) and simply gazing at our Lord. We can continue our prayer life and even adopt new prayer methods, such as Lectio Divina or the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, into our routines. We can say a daily act of Spiritual Communion or set apart five minutes a day for reflection and contemplation.

Christ always accompanies us. His grace continues to abound for us; peace and comfort are always offered; and He never abandons us in our sufferings, however they may have been manifested in recent days. This time of staying at home has given me an insatiable thirst to receive the Lord physically in the Eucharist upon my tongue and into the core of my being! Thomas Aquinas, also called the Angelic Doctor, continues:

When we eat the bread of gladness,
there is here no cause for sadness:
Christ can suffer pain no more.
One or many, each is given
whole, entire, the bread of heaven:
mortal minds can but adore.
…
 
Jesus, whom for the present veiled I see,
what I so thirst for, oh, vouchsafe to me:
that I may see thy countenance unfolding,
and may be blest thy glory in beholding. Amen.[3]
 
If we allow our Lord to reign in us, even the least of us can be instruments of His Love and accomplish great deeds “for the praise and glory of his name, for our good and the good of all his holy Church.” As we have observed from our time apart, we are still able to recognize the Lord in the dignity and service of others, as well as in our day to day routines and lives of prayer. The graces never cease being poured out for His Church and our mission of evangelization never ends. He always accompanies us and that is enough! With a spirit of divine love and faithful accompaniment, we can “open wide the doors for Christ” for others in our homes, workplaces, and centers of care as much as in our intimate chapels, simple parishes, and breathtaking basilicas.

[1] Sacris solemniis, St. Thomas Aquinas

[2] cf. Psalm 42:1

[3] Adoro Te Devote, ibid.

 
If you’re used to communicating with others via text message, then you’ve probably, at some point, received a message and interpreted it out of context. A curt reply with a period at the end could be misinterpreted as either passive aggressive or as an irritated response. This happens to me occasionally, and I always have to remember that without hearing a person’s message verbally, it can be difficult to understand what they’re really saying or implying. Maya Angelou’s quote rings true here: “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.”

Our voices add a unique depth and fullness to our communications by revealing emotions, nuances, and subtle meanings more sharply than words alone can communicate. On this feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, I am struck by St. Augustine’s words from this morning's Office of Readings: “Today we remember that Zechariah’s ‘tongue is loosed because a voice is born.’” 

St. John the Baptist was born to be the final prophetic voice who proclaimed the Word made flesh. Like the Old Testament prophets, John foretells the coming of the Messiah and calls sinners to repentance with words that cut to the heart (Luke 3:1-29). But, unlike the Old Testament prophets, John identifies the Messiah for the first time in salvation history. John points Jesus out and encourages his followers to pursue him (John 1:29-37). He is confident that his cousin is the foretold Christ, and by his proclamation John fulfills the mission of all the prophets as he straddles the boundary of the Old and New Testament. 

John’s historical mission of giving voice to the Word is also our mission. At our baptism, we were anointed as a priest, prophet, and king. We share uniquely in Jesus’s ministry, and we are called to be lay prophets who proclaim the good news of repentance and redemption. We must, like John the Baptist, spend time coming to know the promises of the Messiah so that we can recognize Him when we see him. And when we see Him present in the sacraments, or when we encounter Him as we are accompanied by a spiritual mentor, or when we experience Him through the fullness of our prayer, we must point Him out for all to see. To fulfill our baptismal call to be prophets of the Gospel of Christ, we must give voice to our experiences of God. John’s words must be our words to the world, “Behold, the Lamb of God.”

"…we constantly find the tension between what man is and what he would like to be; between that which has been realized and that which remains to be accomplished. And it is patience which endures this tension." -Romano Guardini, Learning the Virtues That Lead You to God, 1963, 39.
 
It turns out I really am not a huge fan of working out. After retiring from professional soccer in 2018, I’ve found it quite difficult to motivate myself to exercise when it is not formally baked into my day and when I am not paid to do it. I like being fit, but not the effort and time it requires. There is another reason, however, that I do not like working out, which is: I am impatient.
 
Rather than committing to a regular schedule and planning the workouts to be manageable in difficulty, I go sporadically and push myself to a near death experience. Every. Single. Time. Behind my mindset is a deeply embedded impatience with the process of becoming fit. I want the result without the process—which is not possible. I want to become fit through the course of one rigorous workout and overstep the gradual process that it takes to become a fit person.
 
In sports there is the common—and helpful—phrase of “trust the process.”  What this means in the sporting world is that there is a necessary process of development that every athlete must go through in order to become good or great at his or her sport. It means that no one can go from ‘beginner’ to ‘expert’ without passing through ‘proficient’. There is a development in sport—and life—lodged in the school of gradual growth rather than immediate transformation.
 
This frustrates us.
 
All of us have some idea of who we would like to be, which is then immediately confronted by the reality of who we are. What enables us to endure this gap between idea and reality is what we call patience.
 
Patience is needed where there is a desire not yet fulfilled.
 
Case and point—my workout saga. I want to be fit (idea) but am not (reality) and therefore need patience to trust the gradual process of becoming fit. Patience is the virtue needed to shorten the gap and become who I want to be.
 
There is another phrase in athletics related to “trust the process,” which is, “love the process.” What this means is that the best thing an athlete can do on the road to athletic development is not only trust that skill is only developed over time with effort, but that coming to enjoy that slow and gradual development is an extremely beneficial thing. The great athletes do this. There’s a reason you hear so many stories of the best athletes, from all different sports, being the first at practice and the last to leave. They fall in love with the process of becoming better. Apart from a commitment to the process there is no greatness.
 
We must come to trust and love the “process” of being made holy.
 
When I came into the Church in 2015, I was on fire. I wanted to: be a priest (while I was engaged to be married), learn to pray the Rosary, read St. Faustina’s diary and St. Teresa of Avila’s autobiography, make a pilgrimage to Fatima, know the 2000+ year history of the Church, and learn Biblical Greek (all of these are true and I tried to do all of them with the exception of become a priest). I wanted to become a saint overnight. However, I didn’t quite realize that’s typically not how God works. He knows—because He made us—that if He sanctified us too quickly, we’d be tempted into thinking we are responsible. So, just like every natural thing on earth, our spiritual lives develop organically over time, with much difficulty, slow progress, victories and defeats, deaths and resurrections, all for the purpose of maturity.
 
Sanctification—growing in holiness—is a process just like anything else that is real in this life. Character does not suddenly emerge, wisdom is not haphazardly acquired, and virtue is not cheaply gained. All of the things that pertain to our nature—that is what makes a person a person—come by way of the long, winding, and arduous road. We must come to love the road.
 
Guardini points out that—in our spiritual lives—it is often patience with ourselves that is most needed. We see who we would like to be and the faults of who we are. There is a saint in the distance but a sinner in the mirror. All of this is a call to patience—not despair.  “Patience with oneself…is the foundation of all progress,” says Guardini. The gap between who we are and who we would like to be is not so much a condemnation on ourselves but an invitation from God to dream bigger, to trust in His grace, and to patiently enjoy the journey.
 
“He who wishes to advance must always begin again,” Guardini continues, and this takes strength. It is easy to float through life without ever attempting the effort necessary to gradually grow, or the effort to begin again, or the effort to examine oneself, or the effort to admit you desire more. The virtue of patience requires strength—an interior strength that can withstand the assault of failure on our ego. Strength to call things as they are. For “only the strong man can exercise living patience, can take upon himself again and again the things that are; only he can always begin anew.” This is a living patience—one capable of enduring “the process” with joy trusting in the direction of one’s life.
 
Jesus, may we all trust in your grace over our efforts and patiently trust the process that is your grace working in us for our sanctification. Help us to learn to be content where we are, focus on what is in front of us, and be satisfied with small steps, realizing that small steps are a big deal. May we be granted the strength to endure our shortcomings in all things, but especially our spiritual lives. May we look to your goodness, mercy, and transformative love and trust that you are leading us—slowly, gently, and for our own good—exactly where we are meant to go.

With everything going on in the world, it can be hard to focus on having shared and special time with a spouse. I encourage you to view this time as an opportunity to focus on making special time together a part of your schedule. When have we ever been confined within the same walls for longer than a couple of weeks? When have we ever found ourselves spending this much time with our loved one?
 
During this quarantine, it is very easy to feel stuck in the rhythm of getting up, going to “work” in areas of the house, or even sitting in the same places on the couch day after day.  You may be bored of this quarantine, but you don’t need to be bored of your spouse!  Below are some ideas for you to try to make sure you don’t fall into boredom in your marriage!

1. Communicate! I have never communicated more with my husband than while experiencing quarantine together. We discuss meal planning, what’s going on in the news, things that have happened during the day, and so much more. We don’t just update each other on what we would like to do—we synchronize calendars, think of socially-distant ways to see friends, and of course discuss our son! We’ve learned a lot about each other during this extended time at home, and it’s due to our deepened communication with each other.
2. Cultivate intimacy! Intimacy is important in a marriage and is more than just physical. There are a variety of intimate ways to show your partner that they are loved and that you care: through your words, a simple touch, hugs, notes of affirmation, small acts of kindness, and more! There are also books and quizzes about figuring out your own and your spouse’s love languages. These little acts could help you and your spouse keep up your intimacy, especially if you’re looking for additional ways to stoke the fire. 
3. Pray Together. Prayer is so powerful. Now more than ever, you can see how both you and your spouse pray best. Prayer can be done personally and privately, but should also be shared together. Some people watch televised Mass, some couples have morning or evening prayer times, some read and journal together, and others have yet to figure out what works for their marriage. The point is not how much or how you pray, but that you do. Discuss it with your spouse and try introducing prayer together as an additional way to remain intimate; you never know how the Lord may work in your lives!
4. Have fun together! Now’s the time to get creative. Pull out the old deck of cards and just play one night, surprise your spouse with a trip to a winery for some outside fun, plan a picnic in a nice park or outside on the lawn, cook together, try a virtual trivia night (they’re a blast, we know firsthand!), cut each other’s hair, watch a movie to celebrate the weekend, mutually decide to boycott the chores for a morning together drinking coffee, or come up with your own fun! 
5. Establish a ritual. A ritual can be a simple daily thing that makes you both feel good and that bonds you together. During the monotony of quarantine, traditions can be the saving moment of the day. This one is easy for my husband and me: we enjoy a tasty treat each night. We settle into the couch for the night, sometimes the baby has even gone to bed at that time, and we enjoy each other’s company and the yummy treat. We don’t do it without the other person and it’s a fun thing to wait for each day.                                                                                                                                 
6. Exercise! Whether you are a runner, weight-lifter, biker, climber, hiker or newly-integrated walker (like my husband!), exercising in some way can boost endorphins and leave you feeling better each day. It is also a great chance to catch each other up on your day and talk about things besides work or the kids. 
7. Get some sleep. Don’t underestimate what sleep can do for your marriage. Believe me, a grouchy wife is a miserable wife and when I am sleep-deprived, I’m at my worst. Getting a good night’s sleep each night helps keep you healthy, feeling better, and an added bonus is that you get to do it next to your spouse.
8. See other people (on screen or socially-distantly!). Set up Zoom or Facetime dates with other couples or with your own separate friends. Being with your spouse can begin to tire if there is no one else to interact with, so be sure to stay connected and see other people from time to time! Chances are, some of your friends are feeling the same and would love to set something up. 

My hope for you all is that you continue to seek each day as a new beginning together. You’ll fight and argue, there may be tears, there will be emotions, and you may not agree. But know that through God, all things are possible and even a joyful marriage in quarantine is possible if you work at it each day. Marriage is no picnic, but you can go on picnics together. Best of luck, I’m praying for you!

For more resources on Marriage and Family, please click here. 
​

On one wall of my office, above shelves crammed with books on various theological topics, there are several framed diplomas and certificates like you would find in a doctor or lawyer’s office. I rarely look at that wall for any length of time, but, the other day, I did. At various times in my life as I was working on degrees and certificates to gain needed credentials or accomplish my work more effectively, attaining them was very important to me. Now, as I look at the wall, I am not very much impressed by the framed paper that is there. Of course, the degrees and such do permit me to teach and provide credibility for some when I present or write. But people matter more. Much of my time today is spent less with books and papers and more with people. In many ways, I am living out what my father challenged me to do when I was in my twenties.
 
One Sunday night many years ago (I called each week on Sunday at 7 p.m.), I was talking with my father and whining that I might not get the final grade that I hoped in a course that semester. It was very important to me to have good grades, as if my worth depended on it. He listened very patiently and then said, “Frank, when someone knocks on the rectory door looking to talk with a priest, they will not care what grade you got. They will care only that you are willing to listen to them and be there for them.”
 
Of course, he was very right. My father, who was a successful business person without any degrees, taught me what is at the heart of faith and living faith – God and people. The divine aspects of faith are always mediated through people as individuals and as groups – their needs, their struggles, their concerns, their pain, their suffering, their joy, their love, their sorrow.
 
Faith is about people and their lives, their interaction with God, and their ultimate destiny. The teachings and customs of faith are not ends in themselves. Instead, they should lead to greater freedom and harmony among human beings. Yes, the twisting of teachings and customs of faith into something else has always happened over the millennia and continues to be a challenging reality. But that is simply using them for self-centered reasons, especially when used to justify hate and oppression. Faith ultimately is about freedom – the freedom to be fully human in union with God. It is a freedom given by God’s grace. Faith rooted in freedom moves outward to people and their needs. It is not focused on self, but on God and other people. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches in number 1742:
 
“The grace of Christ is not in the slightest way a rival of our freedom when this freedom accords with the sense of the true and the good that God has put in the human heart. On the contrary, as Christian experience attests especially in prayer, the more docile we are to the promptings of grace, the more we grow in inner freedom and confidence during trials, such as those we face in the pressures and constraints of the outer world. By the working of grace the Holy Spirit educates us in spiritual freedom in order to make us free collaborators in his work in the Church and in the world:
 
    Almighty and merciful God,
    in your goodness take away from us all that is harmful,
    so that, made ready both in mind and body,
    we may freely accomplish your will.”
 
After 26 years of living out my vocation to the priesthood as a Pallottine, I can say with confidence again how right my father was. My prayer is that I have accompanied those who needed a listening ear and walked alongside them on their journey of faith, and that I will always continue to do so. May we as Christians remember to put people over paper and strive to live out our faith in true freedom. 
​

Fr. Frank S. Donio, S.A.C., D.Min. is Director of the Catholic Apostolate Center.​

In the past few months, most of us have had to confront loss. Some of those losses have been very visible and salient, costing us our jobs, loved ones, and financial security. Others have been less tangible, and yet still impact large parts of our lives: important events have been placed on hold or canceled, relationships have been strained due to distance, and the feeling of having things to look forward to has dissipated. In the aftermath of stay-at-home orders and the pandemic, those of us with these less visible losses might find ourselves minimizing the pain or disappointment we feel. We might compare our smaller losses with those who have undoubtedly encountered more suffering than we have. We may feel that compared to others who have lost jobs, loved ones, homes, or security, we have no right to feel sadness, anger, or disappointment. We might even be preventing ourselves from experiencing grief.

Grief is something natural to our human journey. Like other emotions and emotional processes that we experience as human beings, grief provides us with information to our minds and bodies so that we can survive. In the face of loss, grief serves the purpose of communicating to us that we have encountered a lack of something that was formerly present and available to us. Whether it is the loss of a loved one, job, role on a team or in a workforce, friendship, feeling of security, or a sense of hope, grief helps communicate to us what is most important in our lives. In other words, grief helps inform us regarding what we set our hearts on and what brings us joy and safety. Grief not only touches the realm of the emotions and the psyche; it also is essential to our faith tradition. In Scripture, the words of grief are especially echoed in the psalms:
 
“My tears have been my bread day and night,
as they ask me every day, “Where is your God?”
Those times I recall
as I pour out my soul,
When I would cross over to the shrine of the Mighty One,
to the house of God,
 Amid loud cries of thanksgiving,
 with the multitude keeping festival.
Why are you downcast, my soul;
why do you groan within me?
Wait for God, for I shall again praise him,
my savior and my God.” (Psalm 42: 4-6)
 
We even see Jesus grieve several places in the Gospels, such as at the death of his friend Lazarus (John 11:35), and even at the suffering he was to experience to carry out our salvation (Luke 22:44). In Catholic funerals, we name and acknowledge the reality of grief in our prayers during our liturgical rites—an important part of believing in and living with Paschal hope.

Grief is not just an emotional process for death or large losses. While it is important to keep a clear perspective about the magnitude of the losses we experience in comparison to the suffering of others, grieving the less tangible and visible losses we experience is an important step to healing and cultivating our mental and emotional health. Additionally, ensuring that we allow ourselves to experience grief, even in response to comparatively smaller losses, can help us grow in holiness. Experiencing grief can help us to find new meaning in our faith, deepen our relationship with God and others, and continue to grow in knowledge of ourselves before God. 

So, how are we to allow ourselves to grieve the smaller losses we have experienced in recent months? What are some ways to grieve the rescheduled or canceled graduations, weddings, and festivals, or the lack of opportunity to do the things we enjoy or to spend time with people whom we love?
 
Emotional Processing vs. Emotional Bypassing
Instead of dismissing ourselves or invalidating the emotions we are experiencing (also known as emotional bypassing), we can allow ourselves to grieve more fully by feeling our emotions and asking questions about what we feel, otherwise known as emotional processing. For example, instead of dismissing how we feel by thinking, “It could be worse!”, it is more helpful to our healing to ask questions such as “What is my sadness and anger telling me about what I love or what’s important to me?” In acknowledging our pain and asking ourselves questions about how we feel, we can grow in self-knowledge and self-understanding about the way in which God has created us. We can also engage in processing with a trusted friend, mentor, or mental health professional.
 
Allowing Physical Release
Grief, like other emotions and emotional processes, makes itself known in our bodies. Physical pain, muscle aches, clenched jaws, and a racing heartbeat can all be caused by grief, stress, and anxiety. It is important to process these emotions physically so that they do not remain stuck in our bodies. Breathwork, exercise, crying, and movement allows us to feel grief and allow it to process through our body. Journaling, since it requires movement of the hands, is also a helpful tool for engaging grief through our bodies.
 
Authenticity in Prayer
We are the beloved children of God; God looks upon us with love, care, and concern with whatever we bring to prayer. Talking to God honestly about our disappointment, sadness, or anger brings us closer in relationship with God. In prayer, God is not judging us for what we do or do not say. For this reason, we can be totally authentic with God in prayer. We might feel like we should have a different emotional response to our losses from what we are experiencing, but God’s love is unconditional and infinite: we don’t have to worry about appearing perfect before God.
 
Grieving the large and small losses of the last few months is not only important, it is human. How can we enter more deeply into our grief to find healing? What in our lives do we need to grieve?
 

To become a person of prayer, we need to make every effort to live always in the presence of God.  If we so live, there is every reason to believe that our life can gradually become one of ongoing prayer.  St. Paul urges Christians to “Pray without ceasing.”  The Holy Spirit makes this possible, and such a manner of praying becomes a way of life.  If the presence of God is acknowledged through a constant spirit of inner prayer, we should find ourselves ever more prepared to enter into the more structured forms of prayer that are part of the Christian life.  The Holy Spirit urges us to pray every moment.    

Faith is crucial to our prayer life. I think of the Gospel in which the father of the possessed boy says, “I do believe; help my unbelief.”  We should enter into every moment of prayer recognizing our need for deepening our faith and acknowledging that God is Who He is and we are not God.  We can pray, “Lord help remove my lack of trust, my lack of faith.  If, Lord, you still find an unresolved cause for discouragement within me, some doubt, take it away and instill in me unquestioning faith.” 

Each day, my prayer life consists of four forms of prayer:  The Divine Office, personal prayers and devotions, a daily rosary, and meditative prayer.  I pray to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and Mary Immaculate by way of a prayer that truly reflects my devotion to each.  My purpose for entering into such prayer is not only to give praise and honor to the person to whom I am praying at the moment, but also to use this time to pray both for people who have asked me to pray for them and also for oly SD     people whom  I know need prayer.  Of course, I pray for myself and my own needs as well.  God wants us to take a very personal approach to prayer; in other words, He wants us to be ourselves when we speak to Him. 

Meditative prayer asks us to do our best to select an appropriate time and place so that we might move out of the hustle and bustle of our daily routine and give the moment exclusively to God. It invites us to sit quietly in a comfortable position that still enables us to be alert.  Choose an appropriate time for meditative prayer by scheduling it when you find yourself ready for a break and for spending meaningful time with God free from distractions. Then, clear your mind of thoughts running through it haphazardly.   After all, we are taking a moment to discover Christ who dwells within us.  In order to show our sincerity in making this effort, we must first come into conscious contact with and recognize the person we are at the moment.  There are no masks allowed in the presence of God.  Christ wants to encounter us as we truly are.

Meditative prayer takes practice. We must acquire a taste for it if we are to decide to continue to use it to deepen our relationship with Christ. We will be willing to enter into meditative prayer regularly and consistently if we arrive at the conclusion that it Is truly a worthwhile method to help us grow in our relationship with Christ who calls us “friend.” I have found it helpful for my prayer life to establish a set time and place for prayer according to my living conditions and personal daily schedule.  I have also allowed myself to be flexible if these change or if I come to discover a place and/or time more suitable for contemplative prayer.

Try to give at least fifteen minutes to this prayer experience.  If you choose to continue with this approach to prayer, you will eventually come to discover that you are better able to freely enter into this prayer.  It is the Holy Spirit who teaches us how to pray, accompanies us throughout the prayer experience, and also makes it clear to us when it is time to conclude.  I personally find a half hour of quiet prayer to be a meaningful experience.  However, be open to praying for shorter or longer amounts of time depending on your conversation with the Lord.

Be aware of your mood when entering into prayer.  Again, we are entering into the Presence of the Lord just as we are.  It is important to acknowledge our mood and disposition, knowing God see us and accepts us as we are. Furthermore, do not try to rate any meditative experience.  It is prayer that we are talking about and not a moment of self- evaluation.  God always accepts our effort as a gift as long as it is offered with sincerity.

To begin meditation, I attempt to get in touch with what is going on in my life, placing myself in the presence of God. From there I select a word or phrase from the daily Gospel reading.  I tend to read the Gospel passage a couple of times and look to find myself in the reading.  It might be that something is going on in my life— a challenge, a problem, a confusing situation, a memory from the past.  If so, I try to bring this to the Lord in connection with the Gospel passage. Perhaps at such moments, I will deliberately choose a passage from Scripture that speaks to me concerning the situation at hand. How will Jesus speak to me in and through the chosen text?   If you wish to meditate on the entire Gospel scene, one way to do this is to put yourself into the scene and focus on what Jesus is doing and saying and how this speaks to your life. 

It is of course true that our power of concentration can be rather limited.  We face the challenge of distractions in meditative prayer as we do in every experience of prayer.  Once we realize the presence of a distractive thought, we need to let it go and get back to focusing upon
what we hope will lead us to a deepened sense of the presence of Jesus within. 

Meditative prayer is our invitation to the Lord to speak to our heart as He would: 

“Speak, Lord; your servant is listening.“ This element of listening is essential to a proper meditative experience.  Otherwise, such prayer can become the prayer of the Pharisee in the temple with the publican, what Jesus called a prayer about oneself to oneself.
 
By sharing some of my prayer practices above, I hope to have helped guide you deeper into an understanding of the life of prayer that makes every effort to live in the presence of God. Our prayer life is a constant journey of growth in which we seek to spend time with and grow closer to the Lord, already present within us. May we grow this year in our ability to pray without ceasing, and in so doing, embrace prayer as a way of life.