saint of the week

OT A SAINT OF THE WEEK BUT A GOOD LIFE LESSON.

 

About six weeks ago I was enjoying my early morning hike through the woods with my dogs.  It was a very chilly October day.  So chilly in fact, that it was snowing. I did not mind a bit.  I like mornings like that.  As usual, I was praying the rosary.  I was half way through the Luminous mysteries when my cell phone rang.  I know that you are probably thinking:  why take your cell phone?  Well, two reasons:  one is that my home schooled kids are, well, at home and if they need something they can call me.  Secondly, I once had an asthma attack and even though I made it home, I feel better having the phone.

 

So, anyway, my cell phone rang.  I paused.  The little voice in my head said, "Don't answer it!"  I saw that it was my mother.  My little voice spoke again, a bit louder this time; all the while Funky town (my ring tone) is playing.  The daughter in me over ruled the little voice, I answered.  It was just a general "what's up" kind of call.

 

As we chatted I approached a hill.  No, not a hill, more like a cliff since it had about an 80 degree drop.  I have been down this hill a hundred times.  I started down.  It was seconds before I lost footing on the snowy and muddy bank.  If you remember the Wide World of Sport 'agony of defeat', I probably looked something like that.

 

Gasping at the bottom with extreme pain in my right knee I found the phone in the weeds and told my mother that I would call her later (not mentioning the fall of course).  I tried to move, but the pain was extreme (this from a woman who had a 10 pound baby!).

I laid there with the snow falling on my face for a while trying to figure out my next move.  There were two ways home:  back up the hill I had just fallen down and another way which was twice as long but half as steep.  I chose the first.  I slowly stammered to my feet.  My leg was bleeding badly.  To this day I don't know how I made it up the hill, but I did.  When I got to the road I shuffled from mailbox to mail box.  I tried calling my kids but accidentally dialed my husband.  Turns out he was not at work yet, but doing an errand nearby.  He came home immediately.

 

After a long day of stitches and x-rays, it turns out that I had no structural damage to my knee.  Soft tissue damage, yes, but structurally I was fine.  My doctor attributed to the many years of martial arts and the numerous lessons on balance and falling. (Yes we do actually learn how to fall).  Maybe so, but I know that something got me back up that hill.

 

Most of our saints had to learn hard lessons too. But like gold tested in fire, that is how we are formed. I believe that God helps those who help themselves.  When bad things happen you can lie on the ground and cry or you can pick your self up and look for help.  It may take a while to heal.  You might even have a scar, but you will be stronger for the lesson learned.

 

My lesson?  Don't bully your little voice.  It's there for a reason.

 

Closing thought:  God's got your back.

 

 

Jamie

saint of the week

October 16

 

When I was pregnant with my now 9 year old daughter, Casey, I was subjected to the usual battery of prenatal testing.  I really thought nothing of it.  I thought that it was a huge waste of time.  I was working full time and had an 18 month old.  At one visit the doctor, after flipping through a few pages of paperwork looked up at me and said that it appears as though there is a high risk that your child may have Down's syndrome.  We'd like to do some further testing to confirm.  Then you can decide if you want to continue this pregnancy.  Without a moment's hesitation, I replied that I did not want further testing.  It just didn't matter to me.

 

Later that evening my husband and I were having dinner.  We talked about this, and agreed.  It did not matter.  If God sent us a child with Down's syndrome, then he must have enough faith in us to raise the child.  I prayed that God's will be done.  Later that year, my daughter was born.  It was a very difficult and long delivery that produced my 11 pound perfectly, perfect daughter. 

 

Today is the feast day of St. Gerard Majella.  He always had complete trust in God.  When he was only 12 years old he had to leave school and go to work.  He had many hardships in his life, but always trusted God to take of him. . . and He did.  Once when he was working as a houseboy, he accidentally dropped the key to the house down a deep well.  This was a huge problem, but Gerard thought of a fairly simple solution.  He got a rope and tied a stature of the infant Jesus to the end.  He lowered the statue in to the well.  He said a prayer and asked God to help him.  When he pulled up the rope, the statue was holding the key.

 

October is Respect Life Month.  Whether it is the unborn children, elderly, or the inmate on death row. . . Big problems have simple solutions when we trust God.

saint of the week

 

SAINT OF THE WEEK           September 20, 2008

 

Yesterday at rush hour I had to take my daughter to Girl Scouts, then scoot over and pick up my son's ice cream cake from Dairy Queen.  I left the Birthday boy at home, so I was trying to make the trip as quickly as possible.  I guess when you are 12 you would rather stay home and play Wii than meet and greets a dozen or so of your little sisters friends.  Anyway, I was on my way to get the cake.  The road is a bit strange because it moves from 2 lanes, to one lane then back to two.

Needless to say, the one lane is congested.  That stretch of road is nestled in a small community.  The houses are fairly close to the road, separated only by a sidewalk.  As I was approaching the red light I saw a multi colored kick ball bounce in to the street.  On the sidewalk a young boy thrust his hands up to his head in disbelief.  A semi in the on coming lane motored toward his ball.  He stood there for a couple of seconds then ran, in apparent exasperation, into the house.   What he did not see, what the semi slow to a crawl and follow the ball eve n though the light had turned green.  He did not see me jump out of my jeep and grab the ball.  He did not see the ball get thrown back into the yard.

Had he stuck around a few more seconds, he would have seen that everything turned out okay.

 

Last Sunday was the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.  We exalt the cross because it is the vehicle of our salvation.  We know that everything turned out okay, actually better than okay.  God holds that promise to all who have faith in Him.    Yet how many of us, when times get tough, throw up our hands and run away not trusting in His love, not trusting our prayers to the Almighty?

 

If you have prayed, then why worry?  God's love is bigger than a semi and hold us tighter than any rush hour.

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

 

Saint of the Week July 31

St. Ignatius Loyola

 

While I was away, my husband cleaned out his briefcase.  In it he found an article from the April 30^th Edition of the New York Times that he had saved for me. 

The title was:  AN ACT OF SPORTSMANSHIP THAT TOUCHED 'EM ALL.  It seems that there was a college women's softball game between Western Oregon and Central Washington.  Apparently, Sara a "diminutive" player for Western Oregon hit what looked like a 3 run homer over the fence.  In all of her 21 years, she had never done this, so she really did not have a "home run trot" in her repertoire.  As she joyfully scooted around the bases she missed first base, realizing her mistake, she turned to go back, her right knee however, did not make the turn with the rest of her body.  She went down, crying and crawling back to first base.  Her coach made sure that none of her team mates touched her.

The umpires ruled that if she could not make it around the bases, the runs would score, but she would only be credited with a single.  Taking her only out of the park home run away from her would be devastating. Through the uncertainty and murmurs, Mallory, the first baseman from Central Washington spoke up. "Excuse me, would it be ok if we carried her around and she touched each bag?"  So Mallory and Liz (the shortstop) locked arms and carried Sara around the diamond, gently lowering her so that she could touch each base.  They arrived home to a tear filled standing ovation.  Mallory later said that Sara deserved it; she had hit it over the fence. "Anyone would have done the same thing; I just b eat them to it."  I guess she had been taught well, that winning is not the only thing that matters.

 

St. Ignatius knew what it was to have his legs bowled out from under him.  He was a soldier for Spain in 1521.  In a battle against France he injured by a blast from a cannonball.  His military career was over.  While he was recovering he began to read the lives of the saints.  He decided to become a soldier for Christ.  As is often the case when experiencing spiritual growth, he suffered from bouts of f ear and despair.  From these experiences he wrote his famous "Spiritual Exercises". 

At 43 he got his degree.  Because of his humble lifestyle, many people at first hated him.  Little by little he began to attract followers including St. Francis Xavier.  His new order was called the Society of Jesus or the Jesuits.  To date 38 members of that order have been canonized as saints.

 

By now, Liz and Mallory's simple gesture has been read by thousands. St. Ignatius' order has touched or educated millions.  Good or bad, every thing you do affects someone else.  Sometimes we witness the effect, sometimes we don't.

What kind of affect will your ripples produce today?

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

 

Saint of the Week (sort of)

           July 8

 

As a youth minister late May to late July is the busiest time of the year.  It is a good busy filled with all of the best things that youth ministry has to offer:  fellowship, worship, service, more service, mentoring and faith formation.  As I busy myself with the prep, administration and recovery from the various camps and trips I hope that the participants have had an experience that has brought them closer to Christ.   The job is filled with a million details and you really have to guard yourself from becoming bogged down and stressed out.  In this department, I have an ace in the hole.  It is called humor.  It can be found anywhere.  It can manifest in your startled cat or your son trying to pick up something that he dropped in the back of Jeep and only seeing a pair of tennis shoes sticking up because he managed to get stuck.  One of my favorite sources of humor is the endless supply of kid-isms that are provided by my daughter.

 

As I was working out the details for vacation bible school I heard my daughter singing.  How sweet, I thought.  So I began to listen.  She was singing, "Jesus Christ is Risen Today". What a great kid!  I thought.  Then came the verses.  Her rendition went something like this:  who did what upon the cross . . . .alleluia.  Uh,honey, I said.< SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  The verse is who did once upon the cross, it is referring to Jesus.  Oh, she said.  I guess that makes sense.  She did not however, change her rendition of the song.  Once, when she was in kindergarten she asked me why we said Hell Mary.  I have to admit she stumped for a moment until I realized that she was referring to Hail Mary.  Don't worry, we got her straightened out.

 

So although this is the saint of the week, I am asking you for your catholic kid-isms.  I'll compile a list and send it out to you.  Remember, they have to be catholic.

 

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

 

In God We Trust

 

 

Today I found a total of three pennies all in different places, all at different times.

Yesterday I found one.  Two days prior, I found one also.  Maybe you are thinking  of the old rhyme:  See a penny pick it up and all the day you'll have good luck.

That is my knee jerk reaction as well, but my second thought is:  In God we trust.

It's on all the pennies.  I think that is where the real luck is found, in trusting God.

 

In the next five weeks I will lead or participate in the leadership of a middle school work camp, Vacation Bible School, and two mission trips.  Nervous?  A bit.

Excited?  Sometimes.  Tired? Not yet, but no doubt I will be.

 

Many people have wished me luck with these endeavors.  But I have more than luck.  . . I have five pennies that remind me that God speaks to us always in all ways.  I have five pennies that say:  Trust God.

 

Who needs luck?

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

 

Feast of the First Ecumenical Council

 

 

I like tradition, especially the ones that revolve around holidays.  By and large they rekindle happy memories while creating new ones.  As our lives change, so does tradition.  Expecting things to remain the same would be ludicrous.  Take for example, our Memorial Day Tradition of watching the Aspinwall parade.  (Aspinwall is a small town along the Allegheny River just outside of Pittsburgh).

 

When I was a child growing up in Aspinwall, the Memorial Day parade meant decorating my bike with red, white and blue streamers and perhaps attaching a baseball card to the frame with a clothes pin to add the coveted "motor" sound.

As a young adult, in my 20's the Memorial Day parade meant watching the parade from our front porch with a few friends and a case of Molson.  Now that I am middle aged (pause here for a second and sigh with me), I anticipate the parade through the eyes of my children.  One decorates her scooter with streamers; the other vies for the best spot to gather the candy that is thrown from the fire trucks. Weather permitting we conclude with a picnic at the swimming pool.

 

Although how I have watched the parade has changed, one thing has not.  As long as I can remember I have applauded when the veteran soldiers marched by and as long as I can remember the sight of these men and women has brought me to tears.  My husband likes to tease me a bit about this, but what can I say, how I feel, is how I feel.  My tears are part of my tradition

 

As Catholics we have many traditions.  Today is the feast  of one of them; May 29 is the Feast of the First Ecumenical Council.  It was called by Constantine in 325 AD and held in Nicea.  Over 318 of the Christian hierarchy attended including St. Nicholas of Myra.  The reason for the council was the heretical proclamation of Arias who insisted that Christ was no co-eternal with the Father, but rather a mere creation of the Father.  Needless to say the council disagreed with Arias.  In fact, a result of this council is the Nicene Creed.< o:p>

 

This creed is quintessential statement of our Christianity.  It has survived for over 1700 years.  We should be proud to profess it and even prouder to live it.

 

Just like the veteran who marches with a flag while a mom on the sideline quietly sheds a couple of tears.

 

We believe in one God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father by whom all things were made; who for us men, and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary, and was made man, and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate. He suffered and was buried, and the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures, and ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of the Father. And he shall come again with glory to judge both the quick and the dead, whose kingdom shall have no end.

And we believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified, who spoke by the prophets. And we believe one holy catholic and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins. And we look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

Holy Spirit

 

Last weekend I enjoyed a wonderful time at Rehoboth Beach in Delaware.  One of my oldest and dearest friends invited me and one of my sisters to join her and her sisters for a "Ladies Weekend."   The weather fluctuated between blissful and blizzard like, but we were able to spend some time in the sun, go biking, walking, shopping, play games, go to mass and have a nice dinner out.  It was very relaxing although at any one time, at least one of us moms were on their cell phone talking to their families at home.& nbsp; I was wishing it was more than two days, but yet I missed my husband and children.  Packing up my minivan, which we named Nellie several years ago after the station wagon we had as a child, we left at noon on Sunday.

Traffic was heavy but moving steadily as we made our way through Delaware listening to "Life is a Highway".  For the first time ever I did not break into a cold sweat driving over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge!  I was even able to loosen my while knuckled grip in order to change hand positions while enduring the teasing of my passengers.  In Maryland, I noticed the engine light.  The van missed once when trying to shift.  Yet we went onward listen ing to John Cougar Mellencamp.

We stopped in Maryland to get a bite to eat and when we began again, everything seemed okay.   Crossing over into Pennsylvania, the light went on again and van slipped again.   We pulled into a gas station and checked the transmission fluid.  All was well.  . . but not really.   By the time I dropped off my friends in Pittsburgh, the van was grinding.

Up the hill to my house, she was barely moving.  I pulled into the driveway engulfed in smoke with a trail of fluid behind me. 

 

It turns out Nellie was critically ill that day.  Her injuries were quite extensive and not worth fixing.  I feel in many ways that I have lost a dear friend.  I remember when we bought Nellie because I had 2 children in car seats and we needed the room.  I remember one January when we drove home from Johnstown in a blinding snow storm and the stomach flu struck both kids at the same time.  Fours hours of puking kids and slippery roads later we arrived safely at home. The many stickers on Nellie were a tribute to our family's many adventures with her.  The odometer was a testamen t to her age.

I read a bumper sticker at a store on the boardwalk that read:  It's not the years in your life; it's the life in your years.   That being said, Nellie the minivan had a great life.

 

This Sunday is Pentecost.  We celebrate this feast as the birthday of our church.  On this day we honor the third person of the Holy Trinity, the Holy Spirit.  I assure you that the Holy Spirit is alive and well, moving and working through us all in big and small ways.  The Holy Spirit is inspiring us, protecting us, guiding us, loving us, helping us, pursuing us and sometimes even pushing an old minivan loaded with moms safely back home to the ones they love.

 

You might say that the Holy Spirit is putting life in our years.  

 

Here is a prayer to the Holy Spirit:

Holy Spirit, you who solves all problems, who lights all roads so that I can attain my goal, you who give me the divine gift to forgive and forget all evil against me and that in all instances of my life you are with me, I want to thank you for all things and to confirm once again that I never want to be separated from you, even in spite of all material illusions.  I wish to be with you in eternal glory.  Thank you for your mercy towards me and mine.  Amen.

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

 

saint of the week

St. Fidelis

 

Last Saturday was a chilly but tolerable Spring day so I did what any self respecting mother would do. . . I made my family go out and pick up litter.  I was tired of looking at the garbage instead of the trees.

We live in a northern suburb of Pittsburgh.  When we moved here, the area was quite rural, but now it has succumbed to urban sprawl.  With the growth in population there is of course more traffic.  Sadly with the traffic comes more litter.  Unfortunately the litter thrown on the roadway leading to our house will, with a moderate to heavy rain, wash right down into Little Deer Creek.  This creek is one of the best trout streams in Western Pa.  It also feeds directly into the Alleghe ny River.

 

Within 15 minutes my husband and I were able to fill a Hefty trash bag. At least 80% of what we picked up could have been recycled.  Most of it was plastic bottles.  Within 45 minutes we filled three bags. I probably should have brought two more for my complaining kids who were surely teetering on the edge of life.  They were resuscitated from their "Mom, I'm dying" state however, when they found a pair of underwear along the road.  Who knew that giggling could be as effective as CPR?

 

At one point I looked at my family and said, "I am afraid that our planet is doomed.  How do we hope to stop global warming when we can't even get people to stop littering?"

 

After about an hour we went home.  Starting near the mid point of the road, we cleaned about ¼ of the road in that time.  Needless to say the walking dead do not work very fast.  I sighed and thought about all that there was to do. It seemed almost insurmountable. We made a plan to finish piece by piece over the next warm days.

 

That evening on our way to mass I saw someone at the beginning of the road, picking up litter.  Sunday evening when I was on my way to work I drove along that same windy road and saw hefty bag after hefty bag.  The entire road was clean.

 

St. Fidelis was born in Germany in 1578.  His actual name is Mark Rey.  He became a lawyer.  More often than not, he took cases representing the poor; so many that he became known as the 'poor man's lawyer'.  Eventually he became disgusted with the dishonesty of the courts and became a priest.  He changed his name to Fidelis, which means faithful.  Fr. Fidelis was assigned to Switzerland, where, at the time, there were many enemies of the church. He was happy to go some place where his work would make a differen ce. Indeed, his faith filled preaching brought many people back to the church.  He was quite successful.  With success however, often come enemies.  So it was with Fr. Fidelis. After narrowly missing being shot, he decided to leave to town for a while until things cooled down.  As we was walking, He was attacked and beaten to death.  It is said that his final words were, "Lord, forgive my enemies. They do not know what they are doing. Lord Jesus, have mercy on me! Holy Mary, my Mother, help me."

 

How often do you see something that could make a positive difference but stop short, because you are afraid of getting your hands dirty?  There's a line from a song by Keb Mo that says, "Everyone wants a party but no one wants to clean."  Fact is there's a hefty bag waiting for all of us.   

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

This past Good Friday the teens from our parish again presented the living Stations of the Cross.  As youth minister, it is my job to be producer and director (and general worrier).  This year, as with every year past, the youth have done an outstandingly prayer-filled portrayal.  As I was watching them, I thought of something that had happened several years ago. I am not sure why it popped into my head, but it did.

 

At the time, my children were very small.  I think that my son was three.  One of our neighboring parishes was doing living stations with the youth on Good Friday.  In their tradition, they did this outside starting under the pavilion and then working their way up the long winding driveway.  We got there fairly early because I wanted my toddler to be able to see.  After what seemed like an eternity of octopus wrangling, they began.  At once my son caught sight of the teen playing Jesus.  He froze with his mouth wide open.

Then he began breathlessly pulling my arm saying, "Mom, mom look.  Look there's JESUS!"  Although I knew that this guy was a junior in high school and fairly good fielder; this was not the time or the place to explain; so I did not correct my son.  My former octopus was now as still as stone as he watched every station with baited breath.  At the 14^th station when Jesus was laid in the tomb, the "Roman Soldiers" carried Christ to his "tomb" inside the building.

My son looked up at me with his big blue eyes welling with tears, "Mom, where are they taking my Jesus?  I want to go see him.  I wanted to ask him to come to lunch with us."

 

Generally the week after Easter, the Emmaus story is read (Matt 16:12 or Luke 24:13).    In this story, two of Jesus' followers were walking to the town of Emmaus.  Jesus began to walk and talk with them, but they did not recognize Him.  Eventually though, they do realize that it is Jesus.  It happened when he blessed and broke the bread.  After he disappeared they realized that their hearts had been burning all the while. Then they returned to Jerusalem to tell the eleven that the Lord has risen indeed!

 

Isn't that the glory of Easter?  Jesus is with us all the while.  He is risen indeed!  We may just need to stop wiggling and pay attention.

 

 

 

 

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

St. Columba

 

We have two dogs Star and Lucy. Both are therapy dogs.  Lucy is a 1 year old Golden Retriever who never leaves my side and has already been on a mission trip. Star appears to be a lab collie mix.  My son, not wanting her to feel like a mutt and taking note of breeds like Golden Doodles, calls her a Labradollie. We are not sure how old Star is because we rescued her.  We think that she is around nine.  When we adopted Star she was nothing but bones and flinched any time my husband or I moved quickly.  Clearly this dog had been neglected and abused.  I thought to myself, when we brought her into our home 6 years ago: What is the worst thing tha t could happen?  We should at least give her a chance.  For Star the worst had already happened, now she had a new life.

The very next morning I was working at my computer and looked down to see my then 3 year old daughter giving Star a new hairdo.  I knew then and there, she was going to be a good dog.  It was trying at times.  We had to go to basic obedience training twice because I could not get her to eat (take rewards) from my hands.  We had to fence in the yard because she liked to run away. But slowly we have earned her trust.  As I write this she is snoring laying on the bed beside my also snoring, son.  Ahh.  Doggie Paradise.

 

Even through the extra pound or two of dog hair that I clean up everyday, Star has enriched the life of our family.  When my son who has trouble with peer relationships is lonely, who does he talk to?  Who does he play with?  Star.  When our Golden Retriever that we had before Lucy passed away, who mourned with us?  Star.  When my daughter needs to try out a new hairdo, who is there?  Star.  When we brought a tiny puppy home, who patiently tolerated the innumerable puppy antics?  Star.  Who runs to the bus every afternoon?  Star.  Who is the one of the very few dogs that I have ever seen smile?  Star. 

Truly, she has a lot to smile about.  She came from a life of certain death to being a welcome part of this family and a therapy dog at the Veteran's Hospital.

 

St. Columba was born in Ireland around 521.  He left his wealthy family to become a priest.  He loved to read the gospels.  Books however were hard to come by.  He asked a local nobleman if he could borrow his in order to copy it.  The man refused so Columba would sneak in at night and copy a little at a time.  One night his luck ran out and Columba was caught.  The man was furious and wanted the copy.  Columba refused so the two took it to the king.  The king ruled in favor of the nobleman.  Columba was so angry that he incited his clan to go to war against the clan of the noblemen.  In the ensuing war it is said that 2000 men were killed.  Columba was ridden with guilt.  For his penance he was told to leave Ireland forever and spend the rest of his life bringing souls to God to make up for those who were killed in the war.  So he got a boat and set sail.  He landed in a small island off the coast of Scotland.  There he build a monastery a nd spent his days praying, reading and bringing as many souls to Christ as he could.  He must have done a great job, because as you can see, he is a saint.

 

Like Star, Columba too arose from certain death.  Columba's however, was certain death of his soul.  Even though he was in his forties, he saw the error of his thinking and the results of his actions and repented.  He changed dramatically for the better. 

 

That is what being a Christian is all about.  Mother Theresa used to say that "every day we must conquer ourselves".  St. Theresa of Avila said that our spiritual growth is like working our way through various rooms of castle, getting closer and closer to Christ.

 

Change is not easy.  Sometimes lessons need to be repeated in order to be learned.  But if we can trust our Master, we may find paradise.

 

His feast day is June 7.

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

St. Philip Neri

 

The other day my mother gave one of my grandmother's old journals to read.  It was from 1943.  I read some of it to my kids.  They loved it.  Then I began telling them stories that I remembered from my grandmother.  My grandmother always had a great sense of humor and a strong spirituality.  One of their favorites is the story that I tell about my grandmother playing a prank on my older sisters and my cousins.  At the time we were living at my grandmother's house.  It was an old farmhouse with a huge front porch and big crabapple tree in the front yard.  My sisters and cousins were planning on sleeping on the front porch that summer night.  They had taken the little TV out and were huddled around watching scary movies.  I, of course, being the baby, was not allowed anywhere near them.  I was sentenced to remain inside with Grandma.  After a while Grandma looked at me with a gleam in her eye, "Watch this" she said with a smile.

With the stealth of a cheetah, she silently crept over to the front screen door and locked it.  Then she got her flashlight from the kitchen drawer and quickly made her way upstairs to the front bedroom window.  She beamed the flashlight onto the tree while making haunting ghostly sounds.  My sisters practically impaled themselves on the locked front door; Shrieking and knocking.  Seconds later the five of them appeared at the back door, wide eyed and breathless.

Grandma played it cool.  She asked them what had happened and said (with a wink) that she could not have imagined how the door got locked.

That night they all slept on the floor of the living room.

Grandma and I slept upstairs in our beds, grinning.

 

St. Philip Neri was born in 1515 in Florence, Italy.   He was ordained in 1551.  It is said that one Pentecost while in prayer, he had a vision of a globe of fire and his heart physically grew that day.  Philip was capable of great love and spiritual wisdom.  Once a woman came to confession and told him about how she could not stop gossiping.  He told her to go to the market and buy a chicken and return to him.  But on her walk she should pluck the chicken.  She did and returned to him with a freshly plucked chicken .  He then told her to go back and gather all of the feathers.  She said that she could not because they all would have been scattered by the wind.  He said, so it is with your gossip.

 

St. Philip is known for having a great sense of humor and his unconventional methods.  He used practical jokes, laughter, games and even the occasional wine drinking contest to spread the gospel.  If he would have had a flashlight, I'll bet he would have used that too.

 

 

"Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits." -Saint Philip Neri

 

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

Last week I just happened to look down and notice that my Golden Retriever's nails were painted red.  I honestly laughed out loud.  You see, for prior two weeks,  I have had the flu, then bronchitis.

With Thera Flu and albuterol I could basically function, but certainly not nearly at the pace that I maintain on healthier days.  Needless to say, my daughter and I have stayed home.

I guess the dogs nails were a causality of a rainy day, a sick mom and new, just-got-for-my-birthday nail polish and an inventive nine year old.  I wish I was a fly on the wall to see how this endeavor went down; especially how she got the dog to put her paw in the ladybug nail dryer. (I assume the dog's nails were dry because there is not a speck of nail polish to be found anywhere on the floor). 

 

They say that where there is a will, there is a way.  So it is.  This is also true when it comes to our faith.  For thousands of years, Christianity has been put upon by one group on another, yet it flourishes. 

 

Where there is a will there is a way.

I think of the "Black Robes' who came to this country, the courageous folks like Maximilian Kolbe who preached and practiced Catholicism in the face of Nazi occupation, the Irish priests who hid in holes and men like Andrew Dung-Lac who were martyred in Viet Nam.

 

Catholicism was brought to Vietnam by the Portuguese in the 1600's.  It had never been embraced by the governments. (That was a nice way of saying, Catholics were persecuted).Andrew Dung-Lac was born in 1785. He was a Vietnamese priest; certainly not a safe occupation in this era. But where there is will there is way.

In 1820 Andrew and some 100 other Catholics were martyred. St. Andrew was actually beheaded for doing nothing more than being a priest. All toll in the sixty years that followed somewhere between 100,000 and 300,000 Catholics were either martyred or abused.

 

Yet in Vietnam Catholicism survives. It struggles, but it survives. A dear friend of mine is a missionary there right now. She works through various, discrete means to nourish the souls of those hungry for Christ.

 

Let us pray now that God will instill in us the will to preach the gospel and the ways or opportunities to do so.  While you're at it, put in a good word for my friend and all of the strong-willed missionaries who are out there everyday finding ways

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week.

St. Jean Baptiste Marie Vianney

 

For many years, my husband and some of his friends ran the "Great Race".  The "Great Race" is a 10K through the city of Pittsburgh that usually attracts some 10,000 runners.  I am not a runner. I am one of the 25,000 who line the streets waiting to catch a glimpse of their loved one.  Yes, you battle for a first line position, wait indefinitely, wave and clap furiously then compete in your own little race as you head down to the finish line at the point.

 

Truly the Great Race is quite an event.  Beyond the Finish line it is just a big party.  Friends and family cheer as the runners cross the finish line.  There is food, beverages, balloons, entertainment, award ceremonies and a host of other activities.  Everyone is happy.  Tired and sore perhaps, but happy.  We usually hang around for a while milling about the crowd visit with friends. This particular year the race was held on a particularly beautiful day.  This added to the breath taking view of the Point State Park.  After about an hour of the runners sharing their tales of day, eating bananas and drinking Gatorade we began to make our way back to the car.  We walked back past the Paramedics, the stage (the band was tearing down their equipment) and the presentation of the awards. When we walked past the finish line something caught my husband's eye.  He stopped dead in his tracks. He pointed as to direct my attention the lone runner making his way to the finish line.  He was limping badly.  As he drew near we could see that he was disabled, his right leg dragged, his right arm was bent and twisted.  Not looking up or breaking his persistent stride, he crossed the finish line.  No band; No one there cheering; No one even paying attention.  Yet, here was a man who was an inspiration to us all.  He was the embodiment of the human spirit.  He is the true winner.

 

It took him close to 2 hours to run the 6.2 miles, but he did it.  My eyes filled with tears as I watched him cross the finish line.  My husband and I clapped, but I don't think that he heard us . . . although to him, I don't think that it mattered.

 

St. Jean Baptiste Marie Vianney was born in Lyons, France in 1786.  He was not a great student, despite the long hours that he put in.  When he was inducted into the army he missed the departure of his regiment because he was in the chapel praying.  Knowing that he would be treated like a deserter, the Mayor empathized with his plight and gave him a job teaching school.  His father however, was greatly disappointed.  After the war, he entered the seminary but failed his final exams.  After repeating his studies, he passed.

He was a wonderful pastor, giving sound common sense, yet faith filled advice.

He lived a life that was humble, patient and cheerful.  Many miracles are attributed to St. John Vianney.

 

Both of these men tell us to run, run with our arms wide open to find what brings us joy.  Run like there's no one looking . . . and smile.

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week

Luminous Mysteries

 

This morning was a crisp winter morning.  I walked briskly as the ground crunched under feet.  Because I had gloves on, I could not quite maneuver a rosary, so I had to make due with my fingers.  No matter.  I was savoring a moment of absolute peace.   I have always been drawn to the rosary.  While praying I find a peace that I can not find anywhere else (especially in my house).  I can see why our Blessed mother has urged us time and time again to pray the rosary for peace.  Peace has to start within us.

 

Today I prayed the Luminous mysteries.  In case you haven't been following along, the Luminous mysteries were instituted by John Paul II. As with all of the mysteries of the rosary, they are reflections on the life of Christ.  In a moment as clear as the winter sky that was above me, these were my thoughts as I prayed:

 

Mystery:  Jesus is baptized. 

When Jesus was baptized God opened the heavens and said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased."    I wonder if God would say that about me.  I wonder if he would say that he is "well pleased". 

 

Mystery:  Jesus changes the water into wine at Cana.

The host ran out wine.  Mary asks Jesus to help.  She then looks at the servants and says, "Do whatever he tells you" . . . and they do.   Do I listen?  Am I so busy that I fail to give God some quiet so that He may speak, and I will give Him my undivided attention?

 

Mystery:  Jesus proclaims the gospel.

The Sermon on the Mount is one of the most treasured Gospels.  But I have to wonder if my life is a testament to the Gospel.  Whether I am stuck in traffic, scrubbing the toilet or answering emails does my life bear witness to the Gospel?

 

Mystery:  Jesus institutes the Eucharist.

This is the last supper.  I can see Jesus tenderly lifting the cup.  I can hear him say, "Do this in memory of me."   Wouldn't it be nice to see everyone cherished the receiving of the Eucharist in the same tender way that it was given?

 

Mystery:  Jesus is transfigured.

Jesus was transfigured on the mountain.  He apostles saw him as dazzling.   Do you know anyone who dazzles?  Who truly shines with joy and love?  I think that we see glimmers of it now and then in ourselves and in others.  I think we see glimmers of what God wants his children to become.

 

As bright as a moment of clarity may be it all ends the moment the cell phone rings, as did mine. It was almost as if the prior moments had been only a dream and this, this is what life is.  Truth be told, life is both. Moments of clarity and peace intermixed with a phone blasting "Funky town" and someone calling the wrong number.

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

awesomely powerful video

Check out this powerful video: 

 

<embed src="http://www.godtube.com/flvplayer.swf" flashvars="viewkey=139f9c4c0036b123ee12" width="330" height="270" menu="false" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed>

 

Or

 

http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=139f9c4c0036b123ee12

 

--
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". St. Julian of Norwich


Jamie Dillon

saint of the week request

Hi everyone,

Many of you have given positive response to the saint of the week emails.

I am grateful.  Mostly for the opportunity to minister to you in this way.

Some of you have suggested that I put them into a book.  So I am.

I am nearly ready to send it into St. Anthony Messenger.

 

My request is for your prayers.  That God will use these stories in a way that will benefit the greatest good.  Whatever that may be.

 

Thank you,

 

jd

Saint of the Week

Feast of the Holy Family

 

On Easter 2006, my husband converted to Catholicism.  He had gone to mass with me for a decade.  He had sung in the choir and helped with numerous youth ministry tasks.  One day I said to him, "You should just convert."  So, he did.  Dutifully he attended classes.

At long last the Easter Vigil arrived.  Our two children were quite well behaved through the lengthy service.  Maybe it was because we were front and center.  I was proud to be my husband's sponsor as he was confirmed, but it wasn't until communion that it all hit home.  As we sang the Lamb of God, I realized that this was the first time that my husband and I could receive communion together.  My eyes filled with tears.  I squeezed his hand and smiled.  On cue we stood and made our way to the aisle. All eyes were upon us. Sensing my son did not follow, I turned to see him still in the pew.  I motioned for him to come.  He "whispered", "I can't my foot is stuck in the kneeler".  So much for the Hallmark moment!  I  went back and helped him untangle his foot and we moved on.  By then my husband had already received the Eucharist and was back in the pew.

 

Last Sunday we celebrated the Feast of the Holy Family.  I often wonder what life was like for them. I absolutely love the Willow Tree Nativity figures of the Holy Family.  They are faceless but their bodies express pure love and adoration.  Maybe they are faceless because we are supposed to put our faces in there and allow our bodies to express nothing but love and adoration for the Christ child. 

 

This past advent, I had fervently prayed to the Holy Family, for my family.  Exasperated by the daily sibling rivalry, the blow ups, the bills, the pets and the chores; I wanted my family to be more like them.  It seemed that the harder that I prayed, the more things got messed up.  Then I realized something.  God does not want us to be statues.  God wants us to love and adore him whether you are having a Hallmark moment or your foot is stuck in the kneeler.

 

That's what makes a family holy.