Veil of Veronica

“Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him” (Mat. 27:19)

I had a dream last night.  It seemed so real, even though upon waking up I realized how odd it was.  We were driving on a highway.  Going along at a fast rate of speed.  Suddenly the cars in front of us started crashing. There were explosions all around us and people were dying.  Cars started racing in the opposite direction toward us and I don’t know how we managed to miss them and not get hit, as if something supernatural was protecting our car.  We found ourselves pulling over to what appeared to be a college campus.  A young college age boy, who had been mortally wounded, lay dying on bleachers with a gaping wound in his chest. Though still alive, it became apparent that he would not live.  My sons, in their horror knelt beside him, held his hand, and began praying the Our Father.

Suddenly, an atheist group appeared and began chanting, “stop shoving your religion down our throats,” and, “we don’t believe in sky fairies.”  My boys were mystified as to why, when a person lay dying, someone else would be offended by a prayer.  They continued to pray.

I confronted one of the atheists.  I said, “the prayer is not hurting you, why won’t you have some respect for a dying man, what happened to your chant of live and let live, have some respect.”  The atheist insisted, “there is no sky fairy, you’re forcing us to observe the prayer.”  I again said, “if you were dying I would be respectful of you.”  Suddenly the atheist’s eyes turned demon red.  She shot out a wave of energy at me so forcefully it smacked me in the face and it stung me in a way I have never felt before.  I felt dizzy and disoriented, the way you would if you were drunk or sick.  I admit I was scared.  But then I remembered the power of Jesus’ name.  I simply said it, “Jesus.”  The disorientation stopped, the demon got mad and fled.  I was awakened at this point, still feeling the sting on my face, but also very secure in the notion that at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess and give praise to God.  Romans 14:11

And the ministers of the church must be ministers of mercy above all. The confessor, for example, is always in danger of being either too much of a rigorist or too lax. Neither is merciful, because neither of them really takes responsibility for the person. The rigorist washes his hands so that he leaves it to the commandment. The loose minister washes his hands by simply saying, ‘This is not a sin’ or something like that. In pastoral ministry we must accompany people, and we must heal their wounds.” – Pope Francis

There is much fighting in the church these days. The “liberals” vs. ”conservatives” but we cannot put Jesus in a box.  Jesus should not, and does not fit into our political labels.  Jesus is love.  Jesus is truth.  Jesus is the way.  I often feel in our day and age people try to divorce things that belong together.  People are forced to choose sides.  And neither side listens to the other.

I once knew a woman who had an abortion.  As a Catholic we know the killing of the unborn is gravely sinful.  Suppose I walked up to this woman and said, “you are sinful and your sin will send you to hell.”  Do you think she would listen to me?  I don’t.  What if instead, I said, “you are a child of God who loves you.  Tell me your story, and let me know your suffering.  Then together let’s walk and get to know our God who is great.”  Did I condone her sin?  No, I told her the truth, God loves her and I want to walk with her to get to know Him.  In time as her relationship with the God she originally said “no” to gets repaired she will be able to repent and say “yes.”  She can say yes because someone walked the path through the suffering with her.  Someone loved her enough to show her the truth instead of judging and condemning her.

On the flip side, if I were to say to her, “what you did wasn’t a sin,” I would be telling her a lie.  It would not help to heal her soul.  It would probably encourage her further down the road to perdition.  We need to acknowledge grave matters and lovingly show the path to Jesus.

The law is God’s way of revealing the path to happiness.  God left us the law that is really written on our hearts.  If we follow his law we will most definitely be more fulfilled in life.  But as St. Paul tells us in 1^st Corinthians, if we have not love, we have nothing.   I see people trying to divorce these two things on both sides.  One side says, in the name of love don’t point out the thing they did wrong, when in fact the matter is very grave.  While the other side says, tell them how wrong they are without first showing them love.  Neither of these approaches radiate the mercy that our great and loving God has for us.

I say no to both of these.  Love and Law go hand in hand.  Say to the person on the street who is sinning (just as we all are), tell me your story, tell me your sufferings, and let me show you a way to heal that hurt and lead you to a path that will fulfill you beyond your wildest imagination.

Each person we pass on the street is suffering something.  Each person is a child of God.  And each person has the capability of being a great Saint, if only we stop judging, and start listening.  To the condemners we say, Judge not lest ye be judged, and to the sinner we say, go and sin no more.

They came bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men.  Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him.  After they had broken through, they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying.  When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, Child, your sins are forgiven.   Mark 2:3-5

I started my new mission as an Adult RCIA Coordinator at a new parish.  At Mass on Sunday the Priest invited us to a St. Anthony Healing Mass on the first Tuesday of the month.   Apparently, this is something they do the first Tuesday of every month.  I was delighted as I have heard about healing Masses before and have often wondered why there are not more of them.  After all, Jesus was the healer, we can pray and ask for healing from him and what a better place to do it than in the Liturgy that he left for us.

Now honestly, I wanted to go to the Mass with my oldest, who I refer to as “Little King”.  If you have read my previous posts, you know that he struggles with ADHD.  I have wanted to take him to a healing Mass for a long time now.  We have approached his treatment using science and the medical advancements, using alternative treatments, diet changes, and I thought, why not also approach it Spiritually as well.  So off to the healing Mass he and I went.

Whenever I seem to have an expectation of God, God always astounds me by showing me something totally unexpected.  I went to the Mass looking for physical healing of my son’s brain focus.  I left with something totally different, a gift for me, that I didn’t even know I needed.

Now I have never been to a healing Mass before.  I wasn’t sure how it would go.  And honestly after I arrived and Mass began,  I think I was outside my comfort zone.   The Mass began normally in the old Historic 1871 chapel, with it’s wood floors, amazing stained glass, and brick walls.  We had the Introductory Rites, the Liturgy of the Word, and then the Homily after the Gospel.  Then things changed.  The lights went out.  At first, because it had been raining, I thought the storm knocked the power out, but then I realized that the lights were still on in the outside hallway.  My son and I looked at each other, but said nothing.  Then the Priest came down to the front of the altar.  He began shouting almost, really loudly.  I honestly don’t remember what he was saying, because the people were saying their responses as well.  I think he was calling loudly upon the power of God to heal.  This is probably the closest thing I have ever attended to a charismatic event, though no one was speaking in tongues, and no one was falling over.  The congregation began to say, “I forgive you my brother, I forgive you my sister,” over and over as the Priest shouted with Authority.  I was caught off guard, but I joined in.  “I forgive you my brother, I forgive you my sister,”  I repeated over and over.  I wasn’t sure of this, but I know in my heart that forgiveness is needed and is powerful.   My son and I repeated and repeated as the Priest shouted.  Then I closed my eyes and the strangest thing happened.  Into my head popped almost every person I have recently been angry with.  Some were people who I had trouble forgiving for a long while.  The first image was of a person who had lied so very badly about me and almost ruined some of my most treasured relationships.  I realized the anger I was holding onto.  I realized, though I thought I had forgiven, I had not.  I realized I had to let it go.  Image after image of people who had hurt me popped into my head.  The final image that popped in my head was my own face.  There were things I needed to forgive myself for.   Tears started to seep down my face.  I tried hard to hold them in.  I didn’t want to be the crazy new girl crying at the new church she works at, but still tears fell.  My son seemed unfazed.  After a little bit the Priest stopped.  Then softly he said, some of you have had horrible childhoods, some of you have been molested, some of you have just simply been hurt really badly by another.  (That last one was for me.)  He told us it was time to forgive and let it go.  I felt a physical release.  We got up one by one and the Priest anointed our forehead and hands with Holy Oil.  I felt a tingling all the way down my hands to my elbows that lasted several minutes afterwards.  We finished with the Liturgy of the Eucharist and then we brought up food to be blessed and given to the poor. We prayed the litany of St. Anthony.   I was overwhelmed and amazed.  The healing had been for me.

I thought of the verse above about the healing of the paralytic.  Jesus’ has the power to physically heal, but His great power is really to heal our hearts.  He brought forgiveness to us, and when we give it to others, our lives can become transformed and peaceful. Incidentally, I saw this person who had lied about me not even one week after this Mass. It had been over a year since I had seen this person so I don’t think it was coincidence that this person was put in my path.  My heart did not respond with anger as I had thought it would.  Because of how far apart we were I did not get to speak to this person, but if I had been close enough, I would have said, “I forgive you, and I forgive myself.”  It is so good to feel peaceful inside instead of feeling angry.

My son and I left the church, I asked him what he thought.  He made me laugh because there was no mention of the lights going out, or the shouting, or even the anointing.  He just said as any 12 year old boy might say, “it was good mom, a little long, but good.”  Has he been physically healed?  I don’t know, but let’s just say that 7th grade so far is going much better than last year.  Is it perhaps because of the Doctors, the Brain Balance, or the Healing Mass? Maybe it’s all of them.  But I do know this, God has the power to heal.  I am living proof.

But grace was given to each of us according to the measure of Christ’s gift. 

Ephesians 4:7

The past few months have been quite a whirlwind.  To begin with, my youngest child entered kindergarten this year.  Big milestone her as a big kid going to school all day with her older brothers.  Also a big milestone for me as a mom.  All of my babies at school all day without me.  I am proud and sad all in one.

That said, because my husband and I choose to do private Catholic school, tuition payments can be a challenge.  I have been blessed to be a stay at home mother for 12 years, who worked a few hours a week at my church.  I know these years have been a gift.  Three tuitions, however, was going to be hard.  I began my summer in somewhat of a frenzy sending out resume’s to find a job in which I could help with those tuitions, but also something I felt called to do.  I love my kids school and it was God who led us there so I would like them to be able to stay there.  Besides my college degree, I am a licensed insurance agent, and I am a Diocesan Certified Catechist.  I would send my resume to churches and to insurance agencies.  One has really nothing to do with the other, but those were the two paths I could pursue when it came to finding a career.  To be sure, being an insurance agent would be the lucrative path.  Being married to “Mr. Finance Pants” I think that was a path he would have liked and I liked it too, as I have come across many wonderful people who work in this field.  But my passion in life is Jesus Christ.  I speak to Him every day in the hopes that one day my will can be totally conformed to His.

As I have explained in past posts, I tend to be an anxious person.  When I get anxious I find it hard to settle down and find the quiet to really listen to God.  Three tuitions had me anxious, so I wasn’t very quiet this summer.  I did a lot of talking to God and trying really hard to listen, not sure I could hear.  I could probably be seen driving down the interstate chattering away.  I wasn’t on the phone and I wasn’t singing.  I was talking to God.  I was telling him, “I am just really trying to trust you.  I am asking a lot.  I need to cover these tuitions, but I still want to be home for them when they get off of school.  It needs to be flexible, it needs to be enough- I mean I am not asking for richness, but enough!  I am just going to leave it to you Lord.  You have to find me a job.  You have to find me what you want for me. I am going to trust you.”

I’m not sure I did.  I was trying to trust.  But I wanted answers right NOW.  Before I left to visit my parents I lined up an insurance job.  I was going to be able to set my own appointments, make good money, and pay for those tuitions.  It was settled.  Or so I thought. 

I left to go visit my family.  I started off visiting my sisters and brother first.  They are awesome.  My family, they are my rock.  I was really enjoying the time off before my kids would all be in school and I would be off selling policies.  While I was at my sister’s house, I got an email from a church.  They had seen my resume and wanted me to come in on Saturday for an interview.  Saturday, I thought, I am 800 miles away visiting my family, I can’t go on Saturday.  I emailed back to advise that I was interested but out of town.  I received a call from one of the women at the church, and she advised me to write up a vision statement and email it to her.  If they liked my vision statement, they would call me back for an interview.  Okay, I thought, I can do that. 

At 11:00 p.m. I wrote up my vision statement and subsequently emailed it the next morning.  I was exhausted from travelling in my mini-van with my kids, I hoped it was good enough.  I left my sister’s to begin the 4 hour trek toward my parent’s home a few days later.  I talked in the car to God.  If it is meant to be Lord, open all the doors…

I arrived at my parent’s home, elated to see them.  They live 14 hours away from my home if you were to drive straight through.  I feel like I never get to see them, but when we do, it is always a joy.  We sit on their back porch, have a glass of wine, watch the children play, and just love each other. 

I received another email that they liked my vision statement and wanted to do a SKYPE interview because they needed the position filled by mid August.  Oh boy, I thought.  Do I even have any interview clothes? I found some, I did the interview.  And when I got home I got offered the job.  Adult RCIA and Faith Formation Coordinator, a job evangelizing, NO, it is a mission and calling Evangelizing!  Thank you Lord, yes I will be your servant!  All prayers answered, it was flexible and will allow me to be with my kids.  I will also get to talk about the Love of my life, Jesus Christ.  (And you too, Jason Skinner). 

So I have begun my new calling.  I had to switch parishes.  Amazingly, this is the parish where I had my moment with the stained glass window in the old chapel.  This is the parish where I had my confession of all confessions.  This is the parish where my husband did his devotion and confession.  All paths seem to have led us here.  This is my family’s new home. 

My first week there I was a little overwhelmed.  I used the analogy I have heard before when you are learning something new, it’s like drinking water from a fire hose.  I feel at the start of any new job it can be like that.  But I have souls I will be responsible for catechizing.  Am I up to your task Lord?  On the way in I said a prayer, “Lord, give me the grace to do your will in this position.  Give me the grace to get through this period of learning the role.  Lord, just give me the Grace.”

I arrived at work.  Outside my office door I saw a little crucifix on the floor.  The kind of crucifix you may see on a rosary bracelet, almost like a little charm.  Oh, I thought, somebody lost the crucifix to their rosary bracelet.  I began to walk down the hall.  I stopped in each office asking if anybody had lost this crucifix.  No, no, no, people said.  Eventually I ran into my boss.  She said, “oh we knew we dropped that on the floor, but we couldn’t find it.  I decided that whoever found it needed Grace for the day.  Susan Skinner, there is your Grace.  I took that crucifix to Rome with me and had it Blessed by Pope Francis.  It’s for you now, your Grace.”  I was dumbfounded! – Seriously Lord!  You tangibly handed me Grace.  You are an awesome God!  And that my friends, was a definitive God moment.  There have already been more… I will write about them later.  It is through God alone that I breathe and am able to be where I am. Blessings to all of you who read this.

“Listen to me, you islands; hear this, you distant nations: Before I was born the LORD called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name.” Isaiah 49:1

I usually get my inspiration to write when I am running. It is a quiet time for me where I can look at the beauty around me while feeling the breath in my own body. It reminds me of my mortality, but it is as if my soul can be quiet enough to hear God. In the rhythm of my breathing and the pounding of my feet. I sometimes listen to Gregorian chant, the melody transports me up to heaven and clears my head for the important things in life. I know, I am weird.
Sadly, for the past little while this activity has been very difficult for me. I have been suffering from Plantar fasciitis and it is painful to run, and very painful to walk the next day. I have followed the protocol to fix this, but the problem persists, so I have taken to other forms of exercise. I miss running. It also makes my inspiration to write more sporadic. Please pray for my feet to heal. I know God has a plan for me, but in my effort to control everything, sometimes I just wish he would show it to me… but I know that is not how God works.
That said, for my exercise I decided to mow the lawn. Not quiet time at all, with the loud buzzing of the mower, but none the less, I felt inspired, so here I am writing. I have so far not really delved into the modern fighting that takes place in today’s society, but I feel compelled to today. I feel compelled to tell a personal story that will touch on a hot button topic. That topic is abortion.
My story starts with my ancestry. My grandmother to be exact. When my Grandmother was in her 60’s she found out she was adopted. Her mother, the woman who raised her, never told her she was adopted and the father she thought died in a war, may never have actually existed. What she did find out was that she was born with a different name than the one she had, and that the woman who she thought was her mother was not. Many of my family members have tried to investigate her ancestry, and have pieced together some scenarios, but due to the death of the woman who raised my Grandmother as her own, and a lack of the birth records (which may have been in a fire), we will perhaps never know the full truth.
The thought that has struck me time and again is that because her birth seemed so shrouded in secrecy, there must have been shame attached to it. In today’s day and age that kind of shame, the kind that breeds secrecy like that, would make a woman abortion minded. Some of the scenarios that I have been told that surround my Grandmother’s arrival on this earth are scenarios today where people would have an abortion. Whatever the case, I can’t help but think if my Great-Grandmother had been pregnant today, she may have been a woman at huge risk for aborting her child. That my Grandmother lived, I can perhaps attribute to the fact that the LAW protected her life. I often think about this. That if abortion had been acceptable back then, I would not exist. Though I know there was probably much suffering surrounding the birth of my Grandmother, the joy that was brought forth into the world by her and her family line has been boundless. There is no shame in that.
The impact of this on my family personally, is profound. My grandmother, with her murky story of coming into existence had 12 CHILDREN. I believe there are at least 54 grandchildren, and many, many more great-grandchildren. They are Doctors, Lawyers, Engineers, Teachers, Mother’s, Father’s, brothers and sisters. If my grandmother had been aborted there are literally now hundreds of us who would NOT EXIST.
I was once told (online) that if my ancestor had been aborted I wouldn’t be around “to give a f#@k,” (his words not mine) so I should just be pro-abortion. That presupposes that my life has no meaning, that my brother and sisters, that my cousins, my nieces and my nephews, we don’t matter to the world. I know for a fact that is not true. We matter. We matter to those who love us, to those whose lives we have impacted and most importantly to God, who knew us before He formed us in the womb. Every life is precious. The impact of abortion goes far beyond mother and child, it impacts generations, generations that are lost.
My church has always stood up against abortion, and I knew intellectually, that a fetus (which is just Latin for offspring) is a baby. I was always against abortion. But after learning this, it became deeply personal.
I also came to realize that whoever my great grandmother was, she must have endured great suffering. I am forever grateful that the law protected my grandmother. I am also grateful to my great grandmother for the suffering and sacrifice she endured to get my grandmother here.
I look at our society today, and I am appalled that the best we can do to help women today in dire circumstances is to tell them to kill their child so their life can go back to “normal.” I have had many conversations with people over abortion. Many kind, wonderful, really good people, who think abortion is acceptable. We have taught our society that it is okay to kill our children, and good people have accepted this, or remained apathetic toward the issue. If you have ever watched an abortion, you know it is the killing of a person. Most have never taken the time to watch one, which can easily be done online. Many abortions are performed on Christians. As a Christian we should be helping these women in need to find a better way. We should not shame them for their sin, God forgives those who ask forgiveness. If we as Christians stood up every day and said no! Enough! We will not kill our children! We will help those in need! Abortion would cease to exist. Instead we judge, we justify, we kill.
One day, after a particularly distressing conversation I had about abortion, I went to see Dr. Peter Kreeft speak. The topic of abortion came up. I expressed my dismay that good people just accept this as okay, and that I had gotten in a fight about it and felt I would be ostracized for standing up for the unborn. He told me, “Congratulations, you have been hit by the splinters of the Cross.” All I could think, is the biggest splinters were carried by my Great Grandmother, whoever she is, who, though she may not have wanted to, said yes to the life that God created, and birthed generations. Generations who are part of history and have made a significant impact on the world.