Does God send us “signs,” to let us know He has heard our prayers? You Decide.

--Looking into her eyes, he said, “There is Victory over Death.”

                                                    Pineterest.com

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

I recently attended a funeral Mass and during the few minutes before the Mass started, something extraordinary happened. I believe God sent a messenger to share with all those in attendance an affirmation of what we proclaim to believe; that there is Life after Death.  It all happened within a few moments, and it was entirely unexpected. How many people actually paid attention, I do not know.

The messenger’s name was Ann Marie. (interesting that Our Lady’s name is Mary and her mother’s name was Anne).  The usual protocol at a Catholic funeral Mass is that after the Mass ends, family and friends can get up and say a few words about the departed. At this Mass, Ann Marie went up to the ambo immediately before the Mass began. The funeral was for her dad, and she wanted to say a few words about him before the Mass started.

For those of us who have lost loved ones, incidents happen after their passing that some take as a “sign,” For example; a photo of the loved one suddenly falls from a shelf landing in front of us; a sudden smell of her perfume or his after-shave fills the room; a knock on the door and you find no one there. These incidents can sometimes give a person a message which they believe tells them, “all is well and not to worry.” The flip side is it can cause others to feel their loss even more while others may not pay any attention to them. Most times, “signs” are just coincidences.

But the most prominent ‘signs” seem to come from dreams. The Bible has many stories of people having dreams. St. Joseph was visited three different times by the angel in his dreams. We know that it was a dream that saved the baby Messiah’s life. So, I believe, as do others, that we do receive “signs,” especially if we are experiencing significant personal loss. Often, these signs come to us in dreams. Maybe it is God’s way of helping us through our grief.

Ann Marie looked out over the now seated congregation and began to speak. Her demeanor was steady yet sad, and her voice was soft yet clear. She wanted to tell us about her dad.  She just spoke from her heart about a guy named Jerome Schreiber, who was called “Jerry” by everyone except  Ann Marie, who called him dad.

·         Jerry was born in 1926 in South Ozone Park, Queens in NYC.  He worked for the Brooklyn Union Gas company and was a mechanic for them until he retired. Jerry was a devout Catholic, a member of the Knights of Columbus, and was the type of man that helped make America the greatest country in the world. He was all about God, Family, and Country.

·         First, Ann Marie spoke of his kindness, gentleness, humility, compassion, and love for all people. Then she paused and told everyone about  “The Dream.”  

·         Two days after Jerry passed, Ann Marie had a dream. It was clear and vivid with perfect sound. She was in bed and her dad was standing at the front door of their house looking in from the outside. The light outside was brilliant and he was standing in it, smiling at Ann Marie. Looking into her eyes, through his smile, he said, “There is Victory over Death.”

On this day, in Sacred Heart Catholic Church, Pinellas Park, FL., Jerry Schreiber, a Catholic man who lived a life filled with the love of God, family, and neighbor, and had journeyed to his heavenly reward two days before, sent us all a message. It was a message we can love and embrace, a message that can reinforce and fortify our sometimes doubtful faith.

His daughter, Ann Marie, was gifted by a visit from her deceased dad who gave her the message. God’s grace told her to share it with us all. She did that and we, in turn, should share it with others. So let us never forget Jerry's message; “There is Victory over Death.”

“For those who believe no explanation is necessary---For those who do not, none is possible.” St. Thomas Aquinas

 Copyright©Larry Peterson 2020

Francis Delalieu; this Good Samaritan saved a future Servant of God and her family from death-- then he was gone.

There were no strings attached---He simply loved his neighbor

Good Samaritan                       public domain 

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME 

By Larry Peterson

One of the most famous Gospel readings is the one we all know as the Parable of the Good Samaritan. What follows is about someone who may be among the greatest Good Samaritans of all time, a man we know almost nothing about.

Servant of God and Stigmatic, Anna Louise Lateau, passed away at the age of thirty-three. What is extremely interesting is the fact that Louise would never have lived into her fourth month of life if it wasn't for a stranger whose name was Francis Delalieu.

The Lateau family was literally near death. The father, Gregory, had died from smallpox just three months after Louise had been born. Adele, with three little children, was still bedridden after having a very rough time giving birth to Louise. Louise, still an infant, had also contracted smallpox. The oldest child, three-year-old Rosina, was trying to be the in-house caregiver which included taking care of two-year-old Adelina.

The local doctor, overwhelmed with this smallpox epidemic, had stopped by about a week after Gregory's death to check on the family. He did his best to show Rosina what to do. He knew it was hopeless and was sure he would soon come by and find them all dead. He told his friend, Francis Delalieu, about the family.

Try to imagine how this newly widowed mother of three babies, with no money, was feeling. The despair and hopelessness must have been unbearable as she watched her three children quietly dying before her eyes. Weakened to a point where she was unable to get out of her bed, she was probably just praying that she would not be the first to die, leaving them alone. And suddenly the front door opened and there was Francis Delalieu. God was listening after all.

Francis immediately took charge. First, he cleaned up the children. Then he reassured them and left to acquire food and necessities. This man, this stranger, surely had the love of Jesus in his heart. He was risking his own life by being in a smallpox-infected household. He was spitting into the eye of the storm as he cleaned, fed and cared for the little children. This was, after all, 1850 and not 2017. They did not even have running water.

I have been (as have many others) a primary caregiver to someone seriously ill. Some caregivers are helping to nurse their loved one back to health after a serious surgery or accident. The upside to this type of caregiving is that an end is in sight because a reachable goal is possible ie;, recovering from open heart surgery.

Then there is the alternative of caring for someone who is terminally ill. The goal in these cases is to help your loved one live as peacefully and as comfortable as possible until God calls them home. And then you have a person like Francis Delalieu. The only possible motivation he might have had to step into this situation was that of a Good Samaritan. There was no family connection. There were “no strings attached”. He simply LOVED his neighbor.

Who was this man? Who was this stranger who came into a household that was a breeding ground for smallpox and had three babies with a bedridden mom living there and all were near death? Who does this kind of thing simply out of kindness and compassion? Who would stay for almost two and a half years until the mother and children were once again healthy? Francis Delalieu is that person. There are many like him but most are unheralded and unheard of. 

All we can seem to find out about Francis Delalieu is that he was a farmhand or a laborer and that he lived in or around the small town of Bois d' Haine, in Belgium. That is about it. It is known he took  Adele Lateau and her children under his care and nurtured them all until they were well. After that period of time Francis seems to have vanished. There seems to be no record of him after that point in time which would be around 1853.

Anna Louise Lateau was gifted with the Stigmata in the year 1868. For the rest of her life, her nourishment was only the Holy Eucharist and a few glasses of water per day. She became one of the most famous stigmatists of the 19th century. Francis Delalieu, was just an unknown man who stepped up and took care of his neighbor just like the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable. I am sure his reward has been great in heaven. When God is involved, all things are possible.

Copyright©Larry Peterson 2020  (original published in 2017)

Caroline Chisholm: Horrified at the plight of single, emigrant women, she decided to help them and changed the lives of thousands in Australia

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME 

By Larry Peterson

Caroline Chisholm                                                  public domain     

Women settlers in Australia faced a life of prostitution, but Venerable Caroline was able to save many of them.

She was called “the Savior of Living Cargoes”

Caroline Chisholm was born in Northampton, England, in 1808. She was the daughter of William Jones, a wealthy farmer, who had been married four times. Three of his wives had died in childbirth, and Caroline’s mom was his fourth. She had seven children and Caroline would be the last. Her dad died when she was only six and he left the family some money and several properties to divide among the twelve surviving children. A prime lesson Caroline and her siblings learned from their father was to be generous and caring to those in need.

By the time Caroline was seven, she was displaying a pronounced interest in immigration. She had listened to the stories shared among the older people that frequented her home. These folks  included farmers, writers, religious and political leaders.  She invented her own immigration game using a washbasin as the ocean and boats made from pea-shells. She saved her money and purchased small dolls and would place them in the “boats” and send them “across the sea” to their new homes. This early interest in immigration would never leave her. It would only translate into a lifelong endeavor of caring and helping poor immigrants.

When Caroline was 22 years-old Captain Archibald Chisholm proposed marriage to her. Captain Chisholm was thirteen years older than Caroline and a devout Roman Catholic. Raised Protestant during an era when Catholicism was viewed with enormous suspicion and distrust, Caroline faced a hard choice.  She did want to marry him, but she had a significant concern, and it was not his Catholicism. Caroline insisted that she must always have the freedom to persevere in any philanthropic cause she chose. Archibald Chisholm readily agreed.

Caroline and Archibald were married on December 27, 1830. Deeply in love, Caroline soon converted to Roman Catholicism. Some suggested this was done for convenience. On the contrary, she embraced Catholicism and came to love her faith deeply. As one of her biographers wrote, “she was a MOST devout Catholic.”

Britain had established a penal colony in Australia in the latter part of the 18^th century. Here they would send convicted criminals. Later on, they would begin sending people from England known as “free settlers.”  Many of these were single women who would arrive with little or no  money. They also has no  friends, family, or jobs and, desperate to survive, would turn to prostitution. The “welcoming” they were receiving at their “new homeland” was deplorable.

In 1838, Captain Chisholm was granted a transfer to Australia because of health problems. At the time, it was thought that the climate was better there. When they arrived and Caroline saw the wretched circumstances and conditions that greeted the poor migrant women who were there and still coming, she was appalled. She knew she had to help them. Her life’s work could not have been more clear.

Caroline was 30 years old and immediately began planning a course of action, developing job schemes, and lobbying the authorities for better working conditions. She started a group that set out to establish a woman's shelter for migrants. In 1841, she had established the Female Emigrant’s Home in Sydney. Besides providing shelter, it also assisted unemployed young women in finding work not only in the city but even out in rural areas where work was more plentiful.

Deeply sympathetic to young women who were alone, Caroline wrote letter after letter seeking jobs for the girls and found many, especially as domestic servants. She would often accompany them to the far off places to make sure they were a safe haven for them. As time passed by, Caroline began housing men and then families. In her first seven years in Australia, she helped more than 11,000 immigrants.

Caroline Chisholm’s compassion, faith, and untiring devotion to the poor and lonely in a new country left an indelible mark on not only Australia and Great Britain but on the entire world. She is held in such high esteem that her picture is on Australia’s original $5 banknote. She was also awarded posthumously, the Order of Australia.

Caroline passed away on March 25, 1877. She was 68 years old. Her cause for sainthood has been put forward by the Archdiocese of Melbourne. The first Australian saint, Mary MacKillop, was canonized by Pope Benedict XVI in 2010. It is expected that Caroline Chisholm will be the second saint canonized from “down under.”

copyright ©Larry Peterson 2020

                           

Is Christmas a Time for Miracles? The Answer is YES, and we can prove it.

We thought Mom was dead, but she opened her eyes and said, “Come here and give me a hug.” 

Believe in Miracles                                                                    en.wikipedia.org

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

During the Christmas season, I believe God’s loving hand sweeps down and touches many of us with a little extra something when we might need it most. Haven’t you ever, after having something unexpected and beautiful happens, blurted out, “I can’t believe it, it’s a miracle!”

Sometimes what happens to you or someone close to you is inexplicable, mystifying, and mysterious and you just know in your heart that God had His hand in the mix. The following is true, and it happened to my family during the Christmas season of 1960. I can remember it as if it happened today. There is no logical explanation save God intervened and gave us an unexpected Christmas gift.

Our Mom had just turned forty and suddenly was going back and forth to the hospital for two or three days at a time. I had just turned 16 and was more or less oblivious to most everything except Barbara McMahon, who lived around the corner. Every time Mom came home, she looked worse. My sister, Carolyn, 13, told me the black and blue marks on Mom’s arms were from IV needles. I figured she knew what was up especially since she wanted to be a nurse.

Dad just kept telling us it was the “grippe” (today we call it the flu). “Don’t worry,” he’d say, “It’s just a really bad grippe.” Grandma, who lived with us, embraced that concept without question. Today, the psyche experts call that Denial. Grandma proved to be really good at it.

Mom was home for Thanksgiving, but Grandma was doing most of the work using my poor sister as her trainee. I know that it was sometime after Thanksgiving that Mom went back into the hospital. Then came December 18. That was the day Dad, Grandma, Carolyn and myself, took the subway down to Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan for a simple Sunday visit with the woman who was the wife, mother and daughter in our lives. Christmas was one week away and that visit turned out to be anything but simple.

Mom was on the third floor, and when we got to her room,  several doctors and nurses were standing around her bed. Mom was on the bed, her head on the pillow and turned to one side. Her eyes were closed. I remember how still she was. I was instantly frightened. Carolyn and I looked at each other and she too was filled with fear. It is incredible how fast fear can embrace you.

Grandma placed her hand over her mouth and started to cry. One of the doctors pulled our dad to the side and quietly talked to him. I watched him shake his head ever so slightly. Then he came over to me and (this is a direct quote from him on that day), “Please take your sister and Grandma to the chapel and say a rosary together. Your Mom needs all the prayers she can get right now.”

Trying to grow into a man in a matter of seconds, I put my arm around Grandma’s shoulder and said, “C’mon Grandma, let’s do what Dad asked.” She was so distraught she simply complied and followed my lead. As we headed to the inter-denominational chapel, a priest hurried towards Mom’s room.

I have no idea how long we were in that little chapel, but I do know we had prayed two rosaries when a nurse came in and asked us to go back to the room. We were a bit shocked because the nurse was smiling. Grandma, with her worn-out arthritic knees, jumped up and broke into the funkiest sprint I have ever seen. She had erased thirty years just like that.

When we walked into that room, we were confronted with a sight to behold. Mom was sitting up in bed, smiling. Dad was next to her with his arm around her shoulder. He was sporting a grin that spread across his entire face and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Standing on the other side of the bed was the priest we had seen in the hallway. He was standing there with his hands clasped together with a look on his face I cannot describe. For me, it was a moment etched indelibly in my mind and I can see it as clearly as I did back then.

Our Mom, who we thought was dead, extended her arms and said, “Well, don’t I get a hug from you two? C’mon, get over here.”

Mom was not only better, but she was also ALL better. Her arms were clear, her face had color and her eyes were bright and cheerful. Several doctors were outside huddled together in disbelief. They had no explanation for her sudden recovery. We finally learned that Mom had Leukemia, and in 1960, your chances with that disease were virtually non-existent. We also learned that Dad had asked us to go to the chapel because the doctor had told him she only had moments left. He did not want us to see her pass on.

My father and the priest believed they had witnessed a miracle. Grandma, Carolyn, and I saw the results of that miracle. Mom came home the next afternoon.

Christmas of 1960 was spiritual and fabulous. What had happened filled us all with an awe-inspiring sense of what Christmas means…New Life.  As for Mom, she was fine until the end of January. She enjoyed Johnny’s second birthday and Danny’s eleventh birthday. In early February, she was back in the hospital. She died on February 18, 1961. God gave her back to us for one last Christmas and it was the best Christmas ever.

So please, trust me when I tell you it is okay to believe, Christmas really is a time for miracles.

Wishing God’s blessings and a MERRY CHRISTMAS to everyone.

Copyright©Larry Peterson2019 (first print 2015)

All Saint’s Day---- The Road to Sainthood is a Fascinating Journey into Human Holiness

All Saint's Day                                                                                  achrsitianpilgrim..com

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

November 1, we celebrate the Feast of All Saint’s Day. Interestingly, more than 10,000 saints are venerated in the Catholic Church. How did over 10,000 people manage to be canonized? For starters, it is probably safe to say that since the church has been around for 2000 years that only works out to five saints a year. So, as far as the numbers go, that seems irrelevant. What is relevant is the actual process of attaining sainthood. The procedure is exceptionally stringent since no mistakes as to a candidate's eligibility can go uncovered.

It should be noted that prior to the tenth century there was no set procedure for canonization. Frequently, different communities honored or venerated people whose stories were not backed by solid fact. Some stories were made up. For example, St. George the Dragon Slayer, is from the third century. He is honored by both Muslims and Christians. Is the story fact or legend? In the French countryside St. Guinefort is venerated as the protector of babies. It seems that Guinefort saved a baby from a snakebite. The only problem was, Guinefort was a dog.

Interestingly, 52 of the first 55 popes became saints during Catholicism’s first 500 years. During the last one thousand years, only seven popes have attained sainthood, and that includes Pope St. John Paul II and Pope St. John XXIII.

The first saint formally canonized was St. Ulrich of Augsburg. He was canonized by Pope John XV in 993. During the 12^th century, the church, realizing they needed an orderly system, began to put a process in place.  Then, in 1243, Pope Gregory IX proclaimed that only a pope had the authority to declare someone a saint. That process still exists to this day.

So, what is the actual process on the road to sainthood? We know this for sure, sainthood is not an easy honor to attain. There are five steps in the journey. The first step begins right in the neighborhood where the proposed saint lived and was known.

After a person has been dead for five years (this time frame may be waived by the Pope), friends and neighbors may get together and document all they can about that particular person. They would then present their evidence to the local bishop requesting he begin an investigation into the person’s holy and exemplary life.

If the bishop feels the evidence is worthy of the cause moving forward, he may appoint a “postulator” to represent the cause. If, after further investigation, they feel the cause is worthy, they forward it to Rome.  Now the evidence goes before the Congregation for the Causes of Saints.  At this point in the process, the person receives the title, “Servant of God.”

The Congregation for the Causes consists of nine theologians who thoroughly review all the documentation that has been presented to them. The person’s writings are examined, and all aspects of their life are picked apart. Nothing can go against the teachings of the Church.

The Congregation even has a “devil’s advocate” who raises questions and objections about the candidate. The Congregation must be sure before moving forward. If they decide the candidate has been a person of “heroic virtue,” they are declared “Venerable,” and their cause moves on towards the next step; Beatification.

Except in the cases of martyrdom, Beatification requires one miracle. The candidate's character and holiness have already been established, but having a miracle attributed to someone can take centuries. If a person has been killed for their faith, they have been martyred “In Odium Fidei,” which means “In hatred of the faith.”

This death is honored with Beatification and the title Blessed is bestowed on the person. Father Jacques Hamel, who was murdered while saying Mass in France in 2016, is an example of someone experiencing this type of death.

Another death is called “in defensum castitatis” meaning, “in defense of purity.” This too warrants Beatification, and the person is given the title of Blessed. Two young Catholic heroines who died in this manner are St. Maria Goretti and Blessed Pierina Morosini.

Pope Francis recently introduced a new road to sainthood. It honors those who sacrificed their lives for others. (The Mercedarians are known for this). This is called “Maiorem hac delectionem (nemo habet)” which means; “Greater love than this (no man hath).”

Lastly, there is Canonization. At this point, we are waiting for one more miracle. Upon that happening it is given to the Pope who makes the final decision. It is then a person is declared a saint.

To all you saints (and those in the queue) above, please pray for us all.

 copyright©Larry Peterson 2019

A saint from Fatima’s neighboring town: St. Irene was a victim of sexual abuse

St. Irene of Tomar being martyred                               aleteia.org

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

Many of the stories and accounts of the early saints have facts intermingled with legend. During October, when we focus on Fatima,  the Miracle of the Sun, and the Holy Rosary, we might take a look at the story of a revered saint from Fatima’s neighboring town, Tomar.  Her name is St. Irene of Tomar, and she was martyred in 653 A.D.

Legend says that Irene was born in a place called Nabancia, which is known today as Tomar, located in Portugal. Irene was born into an affluent and influential family.  Her parents, living during an era when young girls had to be protected, secured a private tutor for Irene and sent her to a  convent school. Their purpose was served well for the only time Irene left the convent was to attend Mass or make a visit to the church to pray.

Apparently, Irene was quite beautiful, and the few men who actually got a chance to see her were always enamored by her beauty. There was one such man in the area named Britald. He was a nobleman, and the first time he saw Irene, he fell in love with her. He began to watch for her to leave for church and then follow her.

The man became obsessed and finally approached Irene and asked her to marry him. She made it clear to Britald that she had taken a vow of celibacy and had given herself to God as a nun. The man was crushed and walked away.

However, there was another man who had hidden designs on Irene. It was her tutor, Remigio. He was a monk entrusted by Irene’s parents not only to teach their daughter but to guard her also. As time went by, Remigio could not contain himself any longer and shocked Irene by making unreasonable and impure advances towards her. She turned him away as forcefully as she could, but Remigio would not merely go away. Instead, he became furious, quit as her tutor, and plotted revenge.

Soon after,  people began asking Remigio why he was not tutoring Irene. He started telling people that he had found out she was pregnant and that there was no way he would have anything to do with her. He sent a message to Irene, asking if he could meet with her for a few moments to give her some material to study.

As the rumors of her pregnancy continued to spread, Irene agreed to meet with Remigio. He managed to offer her a drink, and she accepted. In it was a poison that was not meant to kill her but would, instead, cause her abdomen to swell up. When people saw Irene with her swollen belly, they believed Remigio’s lie. Word got back to Irene’s first rejected suitor, Britald. He had not seen any other women and was absolutely livid that Irene had lied to him and had been promiscuous. He was not about to let this behavior stand.

Britald hired a mercenary to kill Irene. Shortly after Britald’s “arrangement” had been made, Irene was walking home from afternoon prayer when the assassin struck. He snuck up from behind her, placed his big arm across her face, and cut her throat. He dragged her lifeless body to the Tagus River and threw it in. Folks, no longer seeing Irene either going to Mass or praying in church, thought that she had left the city in shame. What else could have possibly happened to her?

According to legend, Irene’s uncle, the abbot Celius, had received a revelation from Jesus about the truth of Irene’s death and the location of her body. The time frame for this is not precise, but her uncle gathered a procession of people and made a journey to the place where he said her body would be found.  The water’s currents had carried Irene’s body to the shores of Scalabis (which is known today as Santarem, which means Saint Irene).

When the procession reached the site, the waters receded, and the intact remains of Irene were found. It was also noted that she was not pregnant and that she had been a victim of lies and slander. The monks gave her a formal burial, and the story of St. Irene (Santa Iria) began to spread.

Today, St. Irene of Tomar is honored as a saint and martyr throughout Portugal and in the Catholic Church. She is the patron saint of Tomar and Santarem, and her feast day is October 20.

copyright©Larry Peterson 2019

My Wife and The Little Flower joined forces and gave me a Miracle

\

St. Therese of Lisieux  The Little Flower                                                                          public domain                                                        

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

For those who believe in God, no explanation is necessary,

For those who do not believe, no explanation is possible.

                                                         St. Thomas Aquinas

Loretta was my high school sweetheart and we began “dating” when we were about 15. Several years later, after both my parents had passed, and even though I now had three younger brothers to care for, she stood by me.  Her family, especially her mom,  was somewhat horrified at the thought of her daughter getting involved with a young guy with all the “extras” and tried her best to stop her from marrying me. 

However,  she stood by my side, we got married, and came home from our honeymoon with only two of my brothers waiting for us. The youngest, Johnny, had moved in with my sister and her new husband, Bob.  Everything, although not traditional, was okay. We had stayed together as a family, and we had a home. 

I had been sponsored into the Lather’s and Reinforcing Iron Workers Union, one of the best building trades unions in New York City. By the time I was 22 I had finished my apprenticeship and was earning journeyman wages. Loretta and I got married when we were both 23 and moved to New Jersey from the Bronx. My brothers were both in high school, one a senior and the other a freshman, and besides feeling totally out of place at parent’s/teacher’s conferences, all was okay.

A few years passed by and I started to stumble a bit and lose my balance. Sometimes I appeared to have been drinking. Then I experienced what is known as a ‘foot drop.” My left foot was flopping around as I walked. It was like it was not mine. I remember it so well; as I walked the foot would go “splat-splat splat” with every step I made. It was like it belonged somewhere else, not at the end of my leg.

I was admitted to the Neurological Insitute at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in NYC. After five days undergoing various neurological tests including a myelogram, it was determined that I “probably” had Multiple Sclerosis. My doctor informed me that it would gradually get worse but  was very unpredictable and it could go into remission. At that time, it was impossible to give a precise course for the illness.

I could no longer work in the construction industry but was still getting around okay. Physical therapy had helped me to get some of my foot function back and I could walk with a limp and drag the foot instead of having it go “splat-splat.” So I bought a used van and started a small package delivery service. 

I managed to make ends meet for a while and then the illness reared its ugly head and the exacerbation was quick.  I could barely stand and before I knew it I was using Canadian Quad canes for support to get around. My doctor recommended we move to Florida. The rationale was simple; no ice, no snow, and it would be much easier to walk around with crutches.

Loretta’s maid of honor and best friend, Angie, had moved to Florida several years earlier. She was encouraging us to move there. My brothers were young men and now on their own. Danny, had gotten married and Bobby was working as a trucker. It was just Loretta and I and the kids. We sold our small house and headed south.

Angie updated us about the area and the schools and helped us find a place. I actually managed to start making some money writing resumes, but I was getting worse and my new neurologist told us I would be blind, incontinent, and in a wheelchair within a year or two.

It was Christmas of 1980,  we had three small kids, no money, and things were looking bleak. I had received medical assistance from County Social Services, food stamps, and prescriptions (Billy, age seven, was asthmatic and needed inhalers and a few other things which I cannot remember. Loretta was diabetic and needed some meds to help her keep her blood sugar at acceptable levels. The insulin would come a few years later. And that is how it was. Enter The Little Flower.

Thursday, January 8, 1981,  was Loretta’s birthday. I had taken the boys to school and on the way home picked up Egg McMufins at McDonald’s. Loretta loved those, and it was her birthday. Mary was only three, and I know I got her something; what, it was, I can’t remember.

When I walked back into our apartment my dear wife was standing there next to the dining room table. She had her arms outstretched and was smiling ear to ear. I was quickly trying to process whatever was happening. “Well,” she says, “What do you think?”

I said nothing but on the table were all these birthday cards, all opened and standing next to each other forming a semi-circle. She pointed to the cards and said, (I remember the words as if it was yesterday:“Today is my birthday, and I got the only present I wanted.”

“Please,  tell me what is going on? What am I missing here?”

She raises her voice and says, “Look at the cards, look at the cards. Every single one is covered with roses. I prayed a novena to St. Therese that you would get better and just look. I don’t even know half the people who sent these. But every card has roses on it. You are going to be fine. St. Therese just told us. You will be fine.”

There was no instant cure but that very day I tossed my Canadian Quads and began using a regular cane. I started going to Easter Seals for rehab and after three months I was doing a lot better than expected. In due time I tossed the cane too. If you saw me today you would never know I had MS. My urologist who treated my prostate cancer and is a great doctor tells me, “I think they made a mistake. I don’t believe you had MS. Most of my friends have no clue either, just some old ones from way back when.

On September 6, 1978, while still living in New Jersey, our fourth child was stillborn during Loretta’s sixth month. She was a girl and we had named her Therese. Isn't that something. 

 copyright©Larry Peterson 2019 (updated 2024)

The Call to Evangelization has been Heralded by three Popes and the Clergy. So how do we answer their Call?

Evangelism                                  en.wikipedia.org

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

The term, “New Evangelization” was introduced by Pope St. John Paul II, back in 1983. This call to evangelize has been carried forward by Pope Benedict XVI and Pope Francis. Even today, our priests often tell us to go out and evangelize.

Evangelization by the laity makes sense. A simple way to understand the problem is to consider that only 22% of those who say they are Catholics attend Mass on Sunday. Incredibly, 70% of those that profess Catholicism, do not believe in the Real Presence. Those two things, the Mass and the Real Presence, are the nucleus of our faith. How can so many be so lost yet still say they are Catholic?

We Catholics have heard much about how we must evangelize. Unfortunately, most Catholics still do not know how to do it. Most of us even avoid discussion with each other about controversial topics in the Church. Indeed, none of us are going to stand on a milk crate on a street corner, hold up a Bible, and say, "Repent, repent." So...how should Catholics evangelize?

The first thing we must realize is that we are part of a team The name of the team is Catholic/Christian. The owner and general manager is Jesus  The next position is that of“coach.” There are different coaching levels such as; cardinals and bishops. But we, the laity, have one regualr weekly coach. He would be  the priest saying the Sunday Mass we attend. 

Standing at the ambo after reading the Gospel, he could prepare us for the week ahead. The ambo is his “bully pulpit,” meaning he can say anything he wants. The good part for him is that no one will say anything back or challenge him (at least I have never seen that happen). He would be our coach, and we parishioners, his team. 

When we leave  Church, that should mean  the kickoff has been made and  it is “game on.”  We will not only heed the gospel message we will behave according to the commandments. They are what we should treat  as the “fundamentals.” However, we need to know more than the fundamentals. We need “coach” to talk to us about what is going on within the church and is on everyone’s mind. We need to know how to confront the other team’s (aka the devil) game plan.

We cannot evangelize if we do not know what Holy Mother Church teaches about certain things that are heard about every day. We rarely hear about church teaching on euthanasia, partial-birth abortion,  and birth-control which are not permitted by the church? How about being told that gay marriage is not allowed and that the church only approves of marriage between a man and a woman.

You can be in full communion with the church and be a homosexual. But you cannot have a sexual relationship. The sex act is for married partners, a man and a woman, only.  I am a widower and therefore a single man. I am not allowed to have sexual relationship unless I remarry. Priests take a vow of celibacy and do not have sex. Our coaches should  clarify these rules frequently because they are basically trashed by the secular world on a daily basis suggesting it is "intolerance" to NOT approve of those lifestyles. 

Here is a “newsflash: We have to eat, and sleep, and breathe, to live. We do NOT have to have sex to live. If we abstain, we will not die.  How often have our coaches talked about those things as we sit in the pews?

There is more the coaches could help us with. Our game plan needs to expand. We need to hear about how divorce and getting remarried without an annulment is against church teaching.  We need to be ready to talk about these things and not be afraid. And the coaches have to not worry about being politically correct or socially sensitive. Their primary job is to help us save our souls, not to make us happy. That can come second.

Alone, we can always be setting Christian example by giving a smile to someone passing by, saying hello to a stranger, opening a door for someone, giving some money to a person in need, or saying grace publicly in a restaurant. Those things can be our evangelizing warm ups.

However, we do have an evangelization technique available to most of us. It is called social media. My method of being a "lone evangelist" is via social media.  How many of you use Facebook and/or Twitter? How about Linkedin or Pinterest? Youtube? Snapchat? Google? Chrome? Tumblr? Instagram?

Go on Facebook and post, “I LOVE JESUS.” That’s it—you are spreading  the "Good News." We all can be evangelists right from our own homes. How easy is that? Or is it? You may lose some friends. I have for sure. I have also gained some. In fact, I have been kicked off Facebook three times for posting something about Our Lady.

Facebook seems to be primarily for folks to share about themselves and what they are doing, how they are doing, and how their friends and families are. Most people will not spread the “GOOD NEWS” on Facebook. But why not? You can post a picture of a child to promote life or an image of people feeding the homeless. Those are always Christian messages. The fact of the matter is, the laity must help spread the Word. The clergy needs us…and we need their coaching prowess. We are all in it together.

Copyright©Larry Peterson 2019

The Feast Day of the Holy Name of Mary is September 12: Why do we honor Her name?

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

The Madonna of the Roses (1903) by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905).

Why do we honor the name of Our Lady and hold it in such high esteem? Why not just honor her as the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of Jesus? Why did Pope Innocent XI, in 1683, proclaim that September 12 is the Feast day of the Most Holy Name of Mary?  ( In 1970, with the revised Roman Missal, the feast day was removed from the calendar. However, Pope St. John Paul II, reinstituted the feast in 2003 as an “optional memorial.” Check your missalettes; it is there)

The name, Mary,  has its origins in ancient languages such as; Aramaic Maryam; Old Testament Greek Mariam; Hebrew, Myriam, and from the New Testament Latin, Maria.

Some background about Our Lady and her name is as follows: It begins with why she was named, Mary. Her parents, St. Joachim and St. Anne, inspired by God, gave her the name of Mary. The name means a number of things; it means, ‘Lady,”  “The Enlightened One,” “The Light Giver,” “Star of the Sea,” “Myrrh of the Sea,” with  “Stella Maris,” being the favorite. Most importantly, just by saying  her holy name is saying a prayer. It pleases God and has power over Satan. Its significance is so profound.

The feast day o\f the Most Holy Name of Mary originated in 1513 in Cuenca, Spain. At the time it was a local celebration and was held on September 15. In 1587, Pope Sixtus V moved the feast day to September 17.  In 1622, Pope Gregory XV expanded the feast to the Archdiocese of Toledo, and in 1671, the entire kingdom of Spain was included.

But in the year of 1683, this feast day was inserted into the Roman Calendar. That was when Pope Innocent XI, made it a feast everywhere in the Catholic world. The feast was designated to be celebrated on September 12, four days after the birthday of Our Lady. Why did this happen?

The Battle of Lepanto took place in 1571 resulting in a great victory by the Holy League organized by Pope St. Pius V.  The naval forces of the Holy League conquered the overwhelming power of the invading Muslims. The date was October 7 and this day is celebrated as the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary.  It was on this day that Catholics all through Europe prayed the Rosary for the Holy League Navy. Their victory saved Christianity in Europe.

In 1683, a huge Muslim army of over 300,000 had marched through Hungary destroying everything in its path. The army was now on Austria’s border preparing to vanquish Vienna. The papal nuncio and King Leopold of Austria pleaded with King Jan Sobieski of Poland, to help them stop the invading Muslims. King Sobieski immediately agreed to help. He had beaten back the invading Muslims a few years before, and although the army he commanded was small, he was undeterred.

On his march to Austria, King Sobieski and his army passed by the Shrine to Our Lady of Czestochowa, The King  pleaded with the Blessed Mother by invoking her name. He asked for her blessing and intercession. King Sobieski, allied with German warriors, tricked the Muslims into thinking they were retreating. As Sobieski's forces feigned retreat the Germans attacked from the rear. 

The Muslims became confused and fled Vienna and Christian Europe. King Sobieski presented the Muslim standard, which read “Death to the Infidel”, to Pope Innocent XI. The Holy Father proclaimed the Polish King as the savior of Christendom.

King Sobieski triumphantly entered Vienna on September 12. He attended Mass and praised the Blessed Virgin as the cause and reason for their great victory. Pope Innocent XI thereupon declared September 12, as a date to honor the Most Holy Name of Mary, whose motherly intervention had saved Christendom.

St. Bernard of Clairvaux says:

“O most holy Virgin Mary, your name is so sweet and admirable that one cannot say it without becoming inflamed with love toward God and You.”

Blessed Raymond Jordano says:

“that however hardened and diffident a heart may be, the name of this most Blessed Virgin has such efficacy, that if it is only pronounced that heart will be wonderfully softened.”

copyright©Larry Peterson 2019