Association Of Catholic Bloggers

This is the last of six articles for families on celebrating the Sunday Mass. My washing machine broke. A tiny plastic piece in the detergent compartment disappeared. Don’t ask me how—it’s one of life’s mysteries related to the Final Resting Place of socks that vanish from the dryer. Whatever. I ordered the part, tracked the package’s progress online, and ripping open the envelope, discovered my simple piece of plastic. Predictable enough, I suppose. Even so, I still felt a little thrill when I saw a package waiting for me in the mailbox. ©TABERNACLE BY CHRISTIAN BOWEN REDDINGTON (2012) VIA  FLICKR I can’t be the only one who hasn’t quite outgrown the charm of receiving a special delivery. Sending and receiving packages connects us to one another. And knowing a package is meant just for me—regardless of its contents—lifts my spirits. As our “Whispers in the Pew” series draws to a close, we consider the very end of Mass. Read all about it at Praying with Grace !

Alone at St. Stephen the Martyr.  In the dark, in front of the tabernacle, just me and Him. This is where I am happiest, with Him. The door opens and a woman comes in in nurses scrubs, and sits down.  She is crying.   She is crying so loud it tears at my heart.  I go to her. With tears in her eyes she looks up at me.  She sees perhaps the compassion in my eyes and that I want to be with her and moves over so I can sit down. "I'm here if you need to talk, if you need anything." TO CONTINUE READING - CLICK HERE

This encounter started sometime back, I will begin there.   For some time after my husband's death, I had been not living a good life.  I was breaking a commandment pretty regularly.  It wasn't I was mad at God for my husband's death, it was because of the intensity of the pain I was suffering because of grief.   In truth, it hurt worse to go to Church than it did to sin.   I knew better, I had already had the Vision of the Eucharist, so I knew the truth, and I would say to myself, "What are you doing! You know better!!"  After three years, when my heart had healed sufficiently, it was time to come home. Mother calls.  ....TO READ MORE OF THE ENCOUNTER WITH THE VIRGIN...CLICK HERE.