Trust Him – Love Him

Happy Easter Week!

I hope you all had a peace-filled Easter. Most of you moms were probably busy beyond belief, but what else is new? Perhaps on this Easter Monday you are finding some rest. I’m happy to say I am.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending time with family, two of whom were under eight months of age – my little great nieces. Since it has been a long time since my children were so young I took great joy in holding these little bundles of joy.

You forget how small they are, how cuddly, so innocent. And what struck me most about these little ones, and all little ones, is the fact that they are totally dependent upon their parents for everything. Food, clothing, warmth, amusement, love. I shudder to think what would happen if these little cuties were not cared for so well.

Obviously much separates us all from the animals – our intellect, our souls – and our total dependence on our parents. Think of young animals who can walk or swim right after they are born. Some creatures have just a snippet of time with their parents before they are off to fend for themselves. Not so with children. Good parents protect and nurture giving themselves completely to their young. And the babies learn to rely on their parents – for everything.

That’s how we should all be with God who is our Parent. He should be everything to us. Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, Confidant…the list is endless. If you have a good relationship, a faith, with God you should be able to rely on Him for all you need. You should think of Him first every day. You should expect goodness from your Father just as little babies expect goodness from their parents.

God has never let you down. When all is bleak you may think the world has let you down but you will always have a Friend in God – God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. As you begin a newness with the Risen Christ this Easter Week, I encourage you to put all your confidence in God. Put your health and well-being, your finances, any and all worries you may have, your wishes and dreams into God’s hands. Talk to Him as you would talk to your most loving parent because that’s who He is – your most loving Parent. See what happens. The more you trust Him the more you love Him; the more you love Him the more you trust Him...

~Maureen :)

Every Single Blessed Day

Burying wishes under their needs
Staring in horror as the Son bleeds
Compelled to do what is morally right
Though insignificant compared to His plight

Wishing and hoping for dreams to come true
Unsure of life - unsure of You
Feeling futile as you give self away
Every single blessed day

So many poor ones
Too many who cry
So many needing
Why, God, oh why?

To get us to Heaven
Is that the trick?
Each good deed
Adds a paving brick?

Cementing the path
Is that the key?
To do what is right for all,
Not just me?

You can always say no when you tire
Jumping right down from your cross
You can throw in that towel
To recoup some of your loss

Or you could learn from the Master
And stay the course come what may
Giving more of self away
Every single blessed day

© 2006 Maureen Locher

May God be in your actions every moment of this Good Friday remembering all that He did for us.

~Maureen :)

Tears of a Mother

Drop by drop the tears spill out upon her cheek
Little spurts of sadness week after week
Quiet cries inflict the pain upon her heart
Until a new day begins and she must start
To do all that is expected of her
And say not a word

How will she watch Him day after day
Living and loving in that little boy way?
How will she do all for Him that she must
Instilling in Him faith, hope and trust
When all the while destiny draws near
And say not a word?

How will she steer Him on His clear course?
Who will be her unending source
Of wisdom and virtue and unending love
To teach her the values of God above?
For whom does she pray
Yet say not a word?

As her Boy grows into the Man
She can do more than anyone can
To ease His fear, to lift His eyes
To the Father above who also cries
In pain for the Son who must suffer
And still she says not a word

Why was she chosen to bear such a weight?
How will she live knowing His fate
Just waiting and watching until that day
When soldiers come to take Him away
To a death long foretold to save us all?
Yet all will watch and say not a word

©2006 Maureen Locher

How on earth did she do it?
~ Maureen :(

Look to God Now

Whenever you feel alone
Remember Jesus was alone
So you’re in good company

Whenever you feel despair
Remember Jesus in the Garden
All His friends fell asleep
He needed someone to talk to
He felt alone and sad just like you do
He talked to His Father
Try talking to yours

You question your fate
Jesus knew His which is infinitely worse
Jesus had to live to die
For sins He didn’t even commit
Jesus was a good person just like you
He served others just like you do
People always demanded more of Jesus
As people demand more of you
More miracles, more wine, more loaves, more fish - always more

Whenever life demands you must give more
Remember Jesus, and cheerfully give more
For who is to say what is enough
Except our heavenly Father?
One day it will be enough
God will whisper in your ear
When enough is enough
And you’ll open your eyes and you’ll see God
You’ll have the answers
You’ll feel the true joy of being in God’s company
Look to God now, so He’ll look for you later
© 2006 Maureen Locher

Cheerfully give this Holy Wednesday. God will see you and smile. He needs smiles this week for He remembers the past events of this week just as we remember.

~Maureen :)

Dear God,
In three days Your Child is going to die. He has been Your pride and joy, a model child His whole life, a most loving Boy. You have watched Him grow and learn and come into His own. You have 33 years of memories stored up of Him.

You were so elated when He was born You sent Your angels to welcome Him into this world. You were such a proud Papa. As Your Son grew in age, wisdom and grace your pride increased accordingly. He could do no wrong.

He was a friend to the less popular; He shared all He had with any in need; He didn't care what people thought of Him; He knew Who He was. He was Your Son and He never did one thing to tarnish the name You gave Him.

But a few weeks ago the tide turned. You felt that shift, didn't You? You saw. It seems Your Son is too good all of a sudden. People are becoming jealous of Him, and very fearful. Do You know they are plotting against Him? You could change their minds. You could turn their hearts of stone. You could make them see. Why aren't You? Why won't You help Your Son?

Soon people will falsely accuse this Boy of Yours, betray Him and deny His friendship. Your heart will break when they spit on Him, when they insult Him and beat Him. You only have three days left with Your Son.

They will humiliate Him. They will scourge Him over and over and over. And at some point during the torture of Your Son You will die inside. You will not be able to endure watching Your Son suffer so. But You will do nothing to stop it. They will crush the thorns deep into His flesh and hammer spikes into His hands and feet.

You will watch as they hang Your Son on a cross in three short days. You will see every drop of blood and hear every sigh, every groan. But You will be numb to it, helpless. Just when you think You cannot possibly endure one more second of your Son's suffering, You will hear Your Son's voice loud and clear, wracked with pain, accusing You of forsaking Him. And suddenly Your heart will be no more; it will be gone. Your Son will be no more; He will be gone.

Why will You let Your Son die, God? How can You? You have three days to do something about it. Please do it. Please stop it. Make them see.
Love,
Me

Dear Daughter,
I know what's coming, you are right. I will not stop it. "Make them see," you begged. Instead I will make you see. I will make you understand. Find your son. Look into his eyes. You will find your answer. You will see the reason I will let my Son die on Friday. What do you see?
Your loving Father

Dear God,
I see me in my son's eyes.
Love,
Me

Dear Daughter,
You have your answer. I have already made my choice. I cannot have My Son and you. I choose you. Love Me.


~Maureen :)

We Need God; He Doesn't Need Us

Jesus came for the common woman and the common man. He came for the ones who are searching, the ones who are lost and lonely. He came down to earth to suffer as we suffer. Not only the scourging and crucifixion but also to experience the deep down sadness and loneliness that fill so much of our lives.

What if Jesus had been the most happily of married men with lovely children and not a care in the world? No worries touched his life, no sickness, no disappointment, no sadness at all. Isn't it really hard to imagine that life as one belonging to Jesus?

Don't you always relate best to someone who has gone through what you are going through? If you are sad and searching, to whom could you better relate than Someone who could have had anything He wanted, anyone He wanted, yet He chose to remain alone? Jesus didn't have a wife to love. No little Jesuses to whom He could teach His carpentry trade. No little Marys gazing up at Him as if He were the greatest Man on the face of the earth.

Jesus could have had all that and more. A loving wife, children, a home. Instead He chose to live the life of a nomad never settling down, not calling anywhere "home."

Why would He do that? To show us all that we can survive alone because we are never really alone. That when we seek comfort we need only look up. That when we desire a confidant we need look no further than the end of a heartfelt prayer.

We need God; He doesn't need us. We are to rely on God for everything. That's what Jesus did. He relied upon His Father for everything. Jesus had a tunic, a robe and a pair of sandals, so we're told. Not closetsful of clothes. Not shelvesful of collectibles. No transportation except when He rode into Jerusalem. He walked everywhere He needed to go. He didn't carry a Nazareth knapsack filled with food. Remember that when God the Father enabled His Son Jesus to feed the multitudes, God was feeding His own Son as well. He was taking care of Him just as He takes care of all of us.

You may think you are calling the shots in your own life, but you are not; God is. Chances are the more you truly think you are in control, the more mucked up your life probably is. Let God control your life; He does it anyway. Rely on Him. Expect Him to take care of you. Welcome it and show your gratitude to Him at every opportunity.

This start of Holy Week go to your Father. Tell Him you love Him. Tell him you need Him. Ask Him what He wants you to do. Ask Him what He wants for you. And then listen and obey.

~Maureen :)

Our Lord's Passion in Mime

I just returned home from a mime presentation of the Passion of Our Lord. It is Palm Sunday as I write this. I am proud to say I successfully fooled three of my sons. What do you think of when you hear the word "mime"? I think of Marcel Marceau and of course, no speaking. Not exactly the most exciting event for a 22-year-old, a 20-year-old and a 17-year-old. My 18-year-old was working this evening.

Tonight's journey began this morning. You see, today was a day when we could not go to church together "as a family," as I often say. I went at 9:00 and my 18-year-old went with his dad at 11:00. Those other three boys of mine decided they didn't need to go to Mass today; instead they slept much of the day away. I was at a church function so when mom's away...

But mom came home. And mom was not happy. At 4:00 in the afternoon her three sons were still sleeping. She formulated a plan. She woke them for dinner. They ate together and then she began her diatribe. I believe she talked for a good half hour without stopping. Talked of the evils of missing Mass, and many other potential young men evils. She was on a roll. She had quite the captive audience because these boys are great guys, but sometimes they decide to assert that independence thing. And today they did it en masse.

As I finished my heavenly inspired sermon I informed them that since they missed Mass, they were going with me to the Stations of the Cross at 7:30 this evening. Tomorrow begins their Spring Break so they didn't have a leg to stand on as far as any objections would go, and we all knew it. Another point to add: they really love me and they knew I meant business.

They asked about the Stations of the Cross. I was vague. "How long do you think it will last?"

"Not sure."

"Why not? You've been to them before."

"Yeah, but not like this one." Evasion working.

As we arrive at church many cars are already in the parking lot. My guys are amazed at this and persist in their questions.

"Geez, why so many cars?"

"I don't know."

And then my oldest son spots kids inside with paint on their faces. "What is this? The mime?"

"Yes." And in we went. They felt hoodwinked but I cared not. We were there.

And it began. As the first group of eighth graders pranced down the aisle complete with face make-up and wielding streamers I thought, "Oh no - they're going to start laughing." And then like a gift from God our priest came and sat right in front of my men. My worries were over. They wouldn't dare snicker. And the show continued.

It may take much reflection and many rewrites to do justice to what I saw tonight; I will never forget it. Here's an abbreviated version. The performers were eighth graders! I wasn't watching three minutes before my eyes were tearing up. And on and on it went through the horrific story we all know so well. Beautiful music with haunting words, exceptional performances, feeling beyond words. We watched as "Jesus" was baptized, cured the sick, and entered Jerusalem until He began His Passion. I never looked at my boys once throughout the entire 1 1/2 hours. I couldn't take my eyes off Jesus. By now the tears were rolling down my cheeks but I didn't care.

I watched, entranced, as Jesus was carried to His tomb by His believers/betrayers/beloved. For this production our church's altar was simply gone. Gone. Where did it go? I didn't even know it could be moved. But it was gone, and in its place the tomb: a table. And on this table Jesus was most reverently placed and covered completely with a white cloth.

There He was offered up on the table: the Lamb of God. He had been taken, blest, broken and given to us all. This young man, this boy not yet in high school, lying under a sheet. I'm sure by this time the church is back in its proper order; the altar replaced. But I know without one shred of doubt in my heart that every single day for the rest of my life as I gather around that altar to partake of the Body and Blood of Christ, I will see that boy's body, Jesus' Body.

As their final farewell, the players silently walked around the church, most of them truly crying, not acting, and each walked into a pew in front of every person there. They rubbed their own cheeks which were full of facepaint removing some of it and gently rubbed the cheeks of every person in attendance while looking into our eyes as if they were wise beyond their years.

My boys and I left the church without a sound; I cried all the way home. They were silent. We entered our house with the traces of facepaint still upon our cheeks. No one had made a move to remove it or was it that no one dared remove it?

We all knew we were in the presence of God this evening and we brought Him home.

~Maureen

The Tenacity of the Towel

Do you ever feel like you're just hanging out there? Not really attached to very much at all? Like a towel that's been hung on the clothesline to dry, battered about by the wind all day long until it is barely hanging on by the pinch of a clothespin? What options does our little windblown friend have?

Well, it could stay on the line being whipped about on the breeze. It could stretch itself out from under the restrainst of the one remaining clothespin hurling its flat self to the ground at the mercy of the next great gust of wind. Pretty scary for the little guy. A curious critter could haul it away to parts unknown. The wind could increase sending it up, up and away. Could be forever tangled on a tree branch. Could soar like an eagle seeing sights it had only imagined. Poor little fellow doesn't know what to do.

Or our little friend could just wait. It could try with all its might to hang on until the two familiar strong hands come to release it, to smooth it and soothe it, momentarily holding it against a big beating heart, breathing in the freshness of it. Next those hands will fold it ever so gently and place it in amongst the other cared for friends cradled in the sturdy wicker basket.

Today on your journey I wish you the tenacity of the towel. Wait for Him. Hold on. He'll come.

~Maureen :)