Priscilla Ahn - Dream (Official Video)

Simply Isaac

Andrea Bocelli tells a "little story" about abortion.

Saint Pio, pray for us

Life the past six weeks has been chock full - beginning with the early surprise appearance of our dear, little Isaac Jogues Samuel, followed by graduations, anniversaries, birthdays and a funeral. I found myself spiritually and emotionally drained. I was in dire need of some soul food. The announcement in our parish bulletin about a healing Mass caught my eye. The more I read about it, the more I was determined to attend. It was taking place, after all, on Papa's 94th birthday - June 16th - but it was my recently deceased step-father's connection to Padre Pio that compelled me more.

I didn’t realize that June 16 was also the 8^th anniversary of the canonization of Saint Pio until the visiting priest mentioned it during the Mass last Wednesday night. The visitor, Fr. Pio Mandator, F.M.H.J. is a Franciscan priest living as a missionary hermit in the diocese of Scranton, PA. His parents came from the same town as Saint Pio – Pietrelcina in southern Italy. They knew Padre Pio well. Our pastor invited Fr. Pio to celebrate Mass at our parish and to deliver a homily focusing on Padre Pio as healer. After Mass the congregation was invited to receive individual and family blessings with one of Saint Pio’s gloves.

While he was ill and slowly journeying toward his eternal home, my mother prayed to Saint Pio for her life-long protestant husband’s conversion to Catholicism. And it happened. As I've mentioned in previous posts, my step-father entered into the fullness of Truth and Faith during Holy Week of this year. The event lifted all of us, providing joy where there had only been sorrow and uncertainty. It was an event that gloriously and beautifully propelled my step-dad through pain, suffering and death into the loving arms of His savior. My brother had given Ernest a medal of Padre Pio that had been touched to his tomb. During his illness, on good days and on bad, he asked for that medal and his new-found devotion to this beloved saint provided him comfort and hope throughout his prolonged ordeal.

And so, I was happy to be at that Mass and to pray once again for Saint Pio's intercession on behalf of my step-father's soul. I listened in awe to the stories Fr. Mandator recounted about this willing instrument of God's grace - his ability to read souls, his God-given gift of healing of not only physical ailments, but most importantly of the plague of doubt and unbelief. Always bringing souls to Christ, our Divine Physician.

The Mass was stunningly beautiful. Outwardly, it didn't seem much different from the countless Masses I've attended my entire life and in reality it wasn't. But my experience of it was different and I'm at a loss as to how to describe it accurately. All I can say is that I knew we were not only celebrating Mass in union with all of Heaven - we were indeed in Heaven! All of us - my friends who were suffering physically and emotionally, those who have kept their needs deep in their own hearts for only God to know, and others, strangers to me, but not to God - worshiped there among the angels, the saints, and those who have gone before us - the entire body of Christ. And the words Fr. Mandator had spoken moments earlier during his homily became vividly clear, and all that I had been telling my mom over the past year was affirmed during the Eucharistic prayer. We would all face illness, tragedy and even death, but Christ has conquered death through His own sacrifice on the Cross. Life is eternal and we were made to be in perfect union with our Father.

After Mass,  those present were invited to approach Fr. Mandato to be blessed with one of the saint's gloves. Not a magic wand, Father cautioned, but a relic; a glove Padre Pio wore to cover the wounds of the stigmata. During the blessing, Fr. Mandato explained, he would be asking Padre Pio to intercede on our behalf. Being a hermit, and in the tradition of the early desert monks, Fr. Mandato also provided each individual and family a few words (hopefully divinely inspired) that we could take with us to meditate upon and perhaps live by. Those with infirmities or with young children were given permission to 'cut in line'. I sat and watched throngs of people approach Fr. Pio, some in tears, some radiating joy. My own eyes filled with tears (as they had done many times throughout the evening) when I saw my dear friends, Kathy and Lyle, with all their progeny in tow, walk up to receive their blessing. Kathy has written a lovely piece about this on her blog, Faith on the High Wire. It's a beautiful testimony to why Padre Pio is important to their lives and what it meant for Kathy to be present at this Mass of healing and renewal.

As I waited my turn to be blessed, I listened to the organist play "Here, I am Lord" - one of the hymns we sang at Papa's funeral and I knew that the good Padre Pio had heard my prayers and was lifting them up with his own. I left that night blessed and rejuvenated and walking on air.

Saint Pio, pray for us.

(c) Darby C. Fitzpatrick 2010

Letters to Isaac (no. 2)

Dearest Isaac,

Baptism is God's most beautiful and magnificent gift. . . .We call it gift, grace, anointing, enlightenment, garment of immortality, bath of rebirth, seal, and most precious gift. It is called gift because it is conferred on those who bring nothing of their own; grace since it is given even to the guilty; Baptism because sin is buried in the water; anointing for it is priestly and royal as are those who are anointed; enlightenment because it radiates light; clothing since it veils our shame; bath because it washes; and seal as it is our guard and the sign of God's Lordship. (CCC 1216)

A few days ago, your parents, full of joy and anticipation, brought you to the baptistry of St. Catherine of Siena Church on a sultry June evening. There among friends and family you were baptized into the life of the Church. Original sin was washed clean away and you became a son of Christ, a true and beautiful member of His body. Welcome, dearest Isaac Jogues Samuel! Welcome to this new life in Christ that your parents have chosen for you.

Your great uncle, Fr. Jim was so happy to have the privilege of baptizing you. He traveled all the way from his parish in North Carolina to officiate the rite. It was magnificent and moving and so joyful! Many of us there are grateful for the joy; for the opportunity to rejoice in the Lord!

Especially for one member gathered there. Your great Gramma Bea, who only days before had bid farewell to your great grandfather, truly embraced this moment of grace and love. This precious moment - a balm to soothe her aching heart. And I knew that by receiving this sublime gift of salvation, you are now connected in an extraordinary way to this remarkable man; your Papa Ern, whom you will come to know through the sharing of stories about his presence in our lives. I'm sure he will pray for you, little one, and love you from afar.

Along with your godparents, Auntie Erin and "Uncle" Noah, your parents have promised to educate you and nurture your faith. As the Catechism states,

For the grace of Baptism to unfold, the parents' help is important. So too is the role of the godfather and godmother, who must be firm believers, able and ready to help the newly baptized—child or adult—on the road of Christian life. Their task is a truly ecclesial function (officium). The whole ecclesial community bears some responsibility for the development and safeguarding of the grace given at Baptism. (CCC 1255)

I, too, my dear grandson, will do my part to safeguard that grace. Our Church is a treasure trove of faith and truth to which we bear witness in all moments of our daily lives. Welcome to it, my sweet! Live it well and bask in His love.

Saint Isaac Jogues, pray for us!

I love you, baby!

Your,
Nana D

Fr. Jim Collins and his great nephew, Isaac Jogues Samuel

In Honor and Remembrance

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.  ~ George Eliot

Something I share with my mom that perhaps most mothers and daughters do not, is that we were both married in the same year. My wedding happened in the spring of 1985; my mother's in December. 

She was his secretary and they had both lost their spouses. His wife had died of cancer in February; her husband of heart disease the following February. Their broken hearts moved them from a professional relationship to a personal one. A friendship was born out of mutual sorrow; their shoulders bore each other's grief. Soon the friendship turned into courtship and then to a commitment to spend the rest of their lives together. Newlyweds in the autumn of their lives. The wedding was a beautiful celebration of a new beginning; a rising above heartache and finding joy once more.

Our lives have all been blessed by his presence, but she has truly benefited more. He has been there for her when she's needed him the most. Not one for living a solitary life, she is so grateful to God for providing this opportunity to experience marital love and companionship for nearly twenty-five years. I am grateful, too. 

And so, after all these many years, when changing diapers and waiting up for self-absorbed teenagers has long past, when perhaps she thought she had nothing left to teach us, I am still learning from her. Through it all - the trips back and forth to the hospital, the sleepless nights, the celebrations of small signs of improvement - she was there - loving Ernest with every ounce of her being, in sickness and in health. Living the promises she made to him the day they were wed. And always displaying an undying hope, always lifting him up and away from despair, letting him know that no matter what, their love for one another was everlasting and nothing – not even grave illness or the threat of death could destroy it. She made every effort to greet him every day, with a smile and a kiss. She dressed well, styled her hair and applied her make-up. She didn’t want him to worry about her … to see her concern or detect any signs of fatigue. He told her over and over again how wonderful she was and how much he adored her. Theirs was truly a love story and to witness such love was truly an honor and a privilege and a lesson to me of what marriage is all about and what it means to lay down one’s life for a friend, even in the autumn of our lives.

To be sure, her grief weighs heavy and by itself is difficult to bear, but love carries her along. Love lifts her on His wings, giving her strength and perseverance and the knowing that she is not alone. And we are with her, too, her children, his children, never ceasing to lover her; never ceasing to pray.

If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal.

And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.

If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated,

it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury,

it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.

It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. (1 Cor 13: 1-8)

And now, just a few more words about Papa …

I have realized only this week that I have known Papa Ern longer than I knew my own father. Although, my father passed away 4 months after he and my mother celebrated their 37^th wedding anniversary, I am the number 6 child of 7, and was only 23 ½ when my Dad died in February of 1984.

As I’ve already mentioned, Ernest has been a loving and important member of our family for nearly 25 years. We are all better people for having known him and we are so grateful that he agreed to not only care for our Mom, but to become a surrogate father to seven grown children and their spouses and an endearing grandfather to our children, who would know him affectionately as Papa Ern. He was and is and always will be their Papa.

I asked Kevin and Erin what enters their minds when they think of Papa. They answered, “Beer, hotdogs and the Atlanta Braves.” And, of course, there’s Carolina basketball! He was passionate about sports. Countless times while on the phone with my Mom, I could hear him cheering and yelling in the background. She didn’t have to tell me that he was watching a game – the evidence was loud and clear!

We remember his devotion to his beloved cats and how kind he was to all animals particularly our own pet dogs and cats. He was often amused by their antics and he recognized the beauty in how wonderfully they were made. He appreciated their companionship and was always forgiving of their misdeeds. Even the little birds gathering at the backyard feeder delighted him.

I remember when my sister, Joan and I visited him in the rehab center in late April, he mentioned how he hoped he could spend a little time outside to enjoy a little sunshine. It was very windy that day and he quipped, “I reckon they’d have to tie me to a tree, so I wouldn’t blow away as I’ve lost so much weight.” But he looked great to me that day – that weekend. He was animated and chatty. Telling my sister and me how much he loved us and appreciated our visit. We had the opportunity to let him know, too, how much we loved him. I am grateful for that visit, for that opportunity to bid him farewell.

Papa loved the outdoors, the ocean breeze, the majesty of the Carolina mountains, and his beautiful, well manicured and cared-for gardens. How happy he must now be in the garden of Paradise! I can just hear him calling to my Mom, “Bebe, you should see these gardens – they are magnificent! The flowers are so beautiful.” Perhaps someday when we join him in eternity, we’ll find him there, putzing around among the peonies and camellias, a Budweiser in hand listening to a Braves game.

We will miss you, Papa Ern, but in the deepest recesses of our souls we know that we do not wish you remain with us, but recognize the insatiable longing to be where you are now, our eternal home.

As the deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God. (Psalm 42)

Our joy, Papa, is in knowing that we will have eternity.

(c) Darby C. Fitzpatrick 2010

And enjoy the vision of God for ever

And so his death couldn't have been more beautiful or more moving. There he was, flanked by his dear wife, my mom, and my sister, Peggy, and sister-in-law, Marcia - both of whom have been stalwart in their love and support during these final days. My brother, Fr. Jim, inspired by the Holy Spirit to retrieve his prayer book from his car, began the prayer of Commendation of the Dying.

At around that time, Jim, Megan and I finally headed out the door of Seton High School. The awards ceremony was over. The photos were all taken for the year book and it was time to head home. Marcia had called me immediately before the ceremony began. I had difficulty hearing her over the din of chatter and laughter as parents and students filed into the gymnasium to find their seats. I headed to the back of the gym, cell phone in hand, and asked Marcia to repeat what she had told me. "Papa is fading fast." Okay. I explained where I was and told her I'd call later for an update. Earlier that morning I had already told my brother that I would call him after the awards ceremony. So, I did - from the car on the way home. I think it was about 10:40 p.m., but there was no answer. I wondered and prayed once more.

We weren't in the house for very long before the phone rang. Megan answered and then called for me. "Mom, please come to the phone." As she handed it to me, she said, "It's Uncle Jimmy. Papa just died about 10 minutes ago."

I wanted details. I wanted to know who was there. Mom, Peggy and Marcia. Had he ever regained consciousness? No. How did it happen? My brother explained how tired he was, it was getting late and he thought he should perhaps get some sleep, but he was inspired first to pray with those gathered. My mom held one of her darling's hands and Marcia the other one. My sister gently rested her own hand on his sweet head. Surrounded by love, as Fr. Jim finished the concluding prayers, Papa took one last breath and ever so gently gave up his spirit. As a priest, my brother has prayed this prayer many times before for others near death, but never before has he witnessed a soul passing from one life to the next immediately following the prayer. I asked him to read the words of the prayer to me and in hearing them, I  knew that my prayer and the prayers of many had been answered that night.

Papa Ern's soul took flight accompanied by all the saints and angels, by Mary, our dear blessed Mother, and good St. Joseph. He entered his final resting place full of the peace and joy of his Savior. And our love, too, carried him there and will remain with him always and for ever.

Prayer of Commendation of the Dying

I commend you, my dear brother, to almighty God

and entrust you to your creator.

May you return to him

who formed you from the dust of the earth.

May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints

come meet you as you go forth from this life.

May Christ who was crucified for you

bring you freedom and peace.

May Christ who died for you

admit you into his garden of paradise.

May Christ the true Shepherd

acknowledge you as one of his flock.

May he forgive all your sins,

and set you among those he has chosen.

May you see the Redeemer face to face,

And enjoy the vision of God for ever.

Amen.

Praying Farewell

Here it is, the day before the big graduation party. I've taken the day off from work. I've just finished jotting down the items I need from the grocery store. I've also listed the chores that still need to get done. But I'm distracted. I cannot devote all my attention to this grand celebration for three awesome young people, no matter how hard I try. My head is full of thoughts of Papa Ern and I keep wondering how much longer? With almost every breath I offer another prayer, pleading for a happy death even though I know for those of us who stand vigil, particularly my mom, the grief is palpable. 

There is, however, an indescribable beauty in knowing that our thoughts and prayers, that our love mingled with our tears, accompany my step-father on his journey. A journey all of us will make. His journey has been long and difficult and punctuated by much pain and suffering, but also by salient moments of endearment and affection that none of us will ever forget. He leaves us with the knowledge that we are loved and appreciated. He marches forward knowing how much we love him, too.

Oh, my Jesus, on behalf of Ernest, please graciously hear this prayer and grant him, my dear friend and step-father, loving Papa to my children and devoted husband and companion to my mom, a beautiful and peaceful death. Surround him with your angels and saints ...

ASPIRATIONS FOR THE DYING

  

O God, be gracious to me;
 O God, have mercy on me;
O God, forgive me my sins! 
O God the Father, have mercy on me;
O Jesus, be gracious to me;
O Holy Spirit, strengthen me! 
O God the Father, do not reject me;
O Jesus, do not abandon me;
O God the Holy Spirit, do not forsake me!
O my God, into Thy hands I commend my spirit;
O Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!
O Jesus, Son of Mary, have mercy on me!
O Jesus, I believe in Thee;
 O Jesus I hope in Thee;
O Jesus, I love Thee!
O Jesus, I place all my trust in Thy bitter Passion!
O Jesus, in Thy Sacred Wounds I hide myself!
O Jesus, I enclose myself in Thy Sacred Heart!

Holy Mary, Mother of God, assist me!
Holy Mary, protect me from the evil spirit!
Holy Mary, turn thine eyes of mercy upon me!
O Mary, Mother of mercy, obtain grace for me from thy dear Son!
Come to my aid, O Mary, in this my anguish and need!
O Mary, enclose me in thy virginal Heart!
O Mary, commend me to thy Son, present me to thy Son,
reconcile me with thy Son!

St. Joseph, obtain for me grace and mercy!
St. Joseph, assist me in my struggle against the enemy of my salvation!
St. Joseph, to thee do I entrust my soul: do thou save it for me!
St. Joseph, remember me, and obtain mercy for me!

O holy Guardian Angel, do not abandon me, but combat for me
and preserve me from the evil one!

My dear Patron Saints, pray for me!

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!
 

ST. JOSEPH, ADVOCATE OF THE DYING AND THE SINNER,
PRAY FOR US WHO HAVE RECOURSE TO THEE.

Wild Child

Megan Colleen, born 18 years ago today, has an assortment of nicknames. Her school chums, some of their parents and some of her teachers refer to her as Mayo. I don't remember how she acquired that particular moniker, nevertheless, it has stuck with her through most of her years at Seton School.

Wild Child is how we - her older sisters and I - refer to her with the greatest affection. With a name like that, one may assume that she is an out-of-control teenager on the brink of certain disaster. She is not. Actually, she is no longer a wild child. The name points to a time in her childhood when she was "difficult" to handle. One might say that her "terrible twos" began at birth and extended well into her preteen years. Granted she had many, many wonderful moments - when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, well, she was horrid. The best way to describe my wild child is to think of any adjective and precede it with the word more. She was (is) more affectionate, more faithful, more devoted - but also more difficult, her tantrums were more out-of-control, her bad moods were more dramatic. To save her from unwanted embarrassment, I will forgo detailing any of the challenging events of this time period. Suffice it to say, there were times when I, completely drained, called my mother in tears wondering how I could have failed this beautiful, demanding child. The remarkable thing is that she has turned out to be an amazing young woman of faith and conviction (see earlier post - Dear Mom). Words cannot describe how much I love this kid (and always have). She is truly a ray of light in my life. And today is her birthday! I cannot thank God enough for giving her life and placing her in our lives. He knew (of course He knew) how we would learn to embrace each day, good or bad, and grow to love Him more in loving her.

Happy Birthday, my wild child! I love you!

Twenty-five Years and Counting

We met at a bar on March 30, 1984. Three months later, he proposed marriage and I accepted. There was nothing particularly romantic about the proposal, because he isn't particularly romantic. He had been away on a week long business trip. When he returned he mentioned how much he really missed me. He wondered if I'd like to marry him. A few days later we drove over to a jewelry store and I picked out an engagement ring - a small emerald surrounded by six smaller diamonds. I love my ring. It's not like any I've ever seen.

On May 18, 1985 we married. It was a cool, beautiful, breezy May afternoon. We were married at St. Joseph Church in Herndon - the old, quaint one, before they built the new church. It was a lovely Mass and our reception at the Dulles Marriott was so much fun. I remember the muscles of my face aching from smiling so much. We honeymooned in San Francisco and Carmel, California. Beautiful!

Soon we were blessed with our first born, Kathryn Anne - followed by Erin Renee, Kevin James and Megan Colleen. Our jewels. Like most married couples, we've had our fair share of ups and downs. Mistakes - sure, we've made a few. And, yes, we do drive each other crazy from time to time. But together we have learned to recognize what's truly important. (We weren't always so smart!)  Together we have learned to put Christ first in our marriage. Together we have learned that our vocation calls us to lovingly assist one another and to cheer each other along on our journey toward heaven. We continue to remind each other to let go and let God use the unique gifts and talents He has given us to nurture and fortify our love for Him, for each other, and for our children ... and now our first grandchild!

I have been blessed all these 25 years and I am so looking forward to the next 25! Thank you, God, for my husband, Jim and for the LOVE that continues to grow.

Dear Mom,

May 9th, 2010

I thought since this is my last year living at home as a "child" (though I know I will always be your baby ...) I should go beyond the typical, "oh happy mother's day." I would just like to thank you for, first of all, my life. Thanks for not disowning me when I was a little brat ... ha ha just kidding, I know you would never do that. But really, thank you for putting up with my endless shenanigans when I was a wild child. Looking back I know that the way you handled me was the best parenting ever and I am truly thankful for that. (You've probably punished me in the past and said, "you'll thank me later" so here you go!) I would like most importantly to thank you for bringing me up Catholic; as a strong Catholic. I'll always remember and treasure our religious conversations, even the ones from elementary CCD. You established such a firm greatness of receiving my first Holy Communion. Today two little kids made their first Holy Communions and it made me think about my first Communion and how excited I was and how well I actually understood it. I really appreciate you for that so much, I thank God for having blessed me with such a spiritually wonderful mother!

There's one thing I really never thought I would appreciate as much as I do now, and that is my education at Seton. Thank you SO much for sending me to that amazing school. It also has formed me in my faith so well! Growing up I've had such an incredible education from my primary teacher, you, and the teachers, crazy or not, at Seton. Thank you so very much.

Of course, you had to make sure my spiritual life was on the right track and my education was fit because that's what moms do ... but you're not just the every day mom. Actually if I compare you to "moms" in general you really are quite different ... in a very good way. You never really forced me to do anything I didn't want to but you always supported me in whatever I chose to do - not in a sick celebrity-mom type of way because the way you raised me clearly showed me right from wrong. You were never nagging, yet you showed me how to take care of myself. You just allowed me to grow up and to become who God intends me to be. Most importantly, you weren't just a really good mom, you've always [been] and always will be my very closest and best friend in the entire universe. Very rarely do daughters have that type of relationship with their parents, a 100% trusting and loving relationship. I am extremely thankful that I have that with you; that alone means the entire world to me. I really believe that the incredible relationships you built with me and my siblings really is the key to your remarkable parenting.

Thank you so much for the daily sacrifices you made to raise me and my siblings the way you did. Thank you for taking care of me, and for always loving me. Thank you for giving me such a privileged life that so many people never get to have ... and I take it for granted every day. I'm going to miss you. I love you my mama, God bless you on this wonderful mother's day!

Love you always,

Megan

P.S. I'm always proud to say I look just like you, because you are so beautiful :)