I’m not quite sure what to say. I mean that, literally.
I’m sitting in the van, and the laptop is squished up on my lap. Madalen and Thomas are sledding down a hill at the rec centre near our home, and I’m trying to write.
Yesterday, this hill would have been covered in cold, fluffy snow. Thomas asked me to take him then, but I just couldn’t make myself face the cold, not even for love. So today, the hill is a blend of slick, dirty snow, and soggy grass and gravel.
Somehow it has not deterred my children. They have overcome, and it has actually made the sliding faster and smoother. A blessing in disguise.
But that doesn’t help me write my column. It’s just a day where I feel I have nothing worthwhile to say.
Scott is away in Alberta for a funeral. The father of an in-law passed away at 81. The death has somehow brought up a lot of strain in their family. I’m left wishing he and their family were Catholic and had the grace of the last rites.
Which makes me sit here and wonder about grace and rites, and blessings and sacraments. How many Catholics still believe in it all and would die for it? How many worry more about humanitarian social justice than they do about grace, forgiveness, and salvation?
I can’t say that I’ve felt firm security within our Church of late. I mean that generally. I am assured of the truth and unfailing authority of the Church because she is the Bride of Christ, upheld by him as he promised in the Bible. Our Lord cannot lie, and so I know that our faith, through reason and logic, is the only one founded by Christ, and it will live long past any discouraging, confusing, or contradictory teachers, priests, popes, or parents.
Still, I find I am more sympathetic when people shake their heads, confounded by statements, documents, arguments, and proclamations that seem to distract, divide, and take away from the work of God that surpasses the feelings and “elevated wisdom” of certain times and places.
Maybe it’s I who am confounded after all.
I’ll say that it’s discouraging when I witness more zeal from Catholics talking about yoga, Harry Potter, and life-changing diets than about fighting abortion or evangelizing a world gone completely mad. When a priest rolls his eyes to say, “Enough about abortion already,” I am discouraged. There are so many elephants in the room I can’t see the way across it. I can say that.
Buuuuuut, if I’m honest, I can also say, and I’ll say it a little bit louder, that every Thursday the Holy Hour of Adoration at our parish is full, with people and with devotion and sincerity. There are children, teenagers, and in particular, so many young men. And Jesus is there. That fills me with hope.
And today in the U.S., while I write, my eldest son has joined thousands of people marching in solidarity against the slaughter of little, innocent humans. Again, the streets are filled with children, teenagers, and young men, like Andrew, who will go forth and continue in their stand for truth. They are standing against Satan in his bloodbath. And they will inevitably prevail. I will say that for sure.
One of the speakers at the March, Father Clenard Childress, finished his fiery speech with these words, and I think they say everything that needs to be said today, at least to me:
“We are the people who God has chosen to live in this perilous time, and you gotta be special. You need to look at yourself in the mirror every day and say, ‘God birthed me for this time, this craziness, this weirdness, I must be somebody special.’ Don’t worry about the condescending voices! They lose!”
Share your thoughts and contribute to the ongoing conversation by sending us a Letter to the Editor.