A Garden Unfinished

Mar 19, 2020 | 0 comments

By Carolyn.

Originally published in Homiletic and Pastoral Review, May 28th 2016. Reproduced here with permission from the author.

O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary,
I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day
in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world.
I offer them for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart: the salvation of souls, reparation for sin, and the reunion of all Christians.
I offer them for the intentions of our bishops and of all Apostles of Prayer, and in particular for those recommended by
our Holy Father this month.  Amen

As each dawn graces a new day, so should the first prayer of the day be the Morning Offering. Through it we give to Jesus the prayers, works, joys, and sufferings that will come our way until the next dawn. We strive to live day by day, yet our mind wanders. A smile may come as we dwell on these four areas. It can be easy to offer our prayers, works, and joys but the last area can be difficult.

No matter if an individual is a priest, religious or layperson, the prospect of physical suffering is an unpleasant fact, and never a welcome thought. Responses to sickness can range from creative growth to self pity. It can sanctify or darken a soul, and can bring out the best or the worst in a person. In other words, illness can be redemptive or destructive. It can be an opportunity for, or threat to, human and spiritual development. Indeed, suffering is a mystery.

What do the words—“strong,” “healthy,” “weak” and “sick”—suggest? If we place these labels on a descending scale, labeling becomes a risky business because it leads to inaccuracies, and negative mind sets, and supports attitudinal barriers. A person who has a physical handicap can be less limited by the handicap than by the attitudes of people regarding the handicap. Aren’t we all links in a chain, interdependent on each other? Doesn’t Paul, the apostle, tell us to bear one another’s burdens? How do we support and sustain each other? Each of us has gifts and limitations. A mark of spiritual maturity is to recognize and use talents, and to work through, around, or with, flaws. We need each other, and can help each other, look past limitations to focus on gifts. Illness can be a tutor of humility, as well as a channel for creativity, mirth, freedom, and happiness that was never known before. An easy sense of humor, and good common sense can be more valuable than perfect physical health

It has been customary for Church professionals to see people who are physically disabled as a ministry. This is similar to health care professionals, who identify their patients by a disease, or to vocation directors who focus on a walker used by a well-qualified candidate. In the long view, no one is immune to physical suffering, and whatever causes the suffering is only part of a person’s existence. Franklin D. Roosevelt, the thirty-second president of the United States, was a central figure in world events, who brought this country out of the depression, and led it through World War II. He used a wheelchair. Itzhak Perlman is a virtuoso violinist, a teacher of master classes, and a conductor. He uses crutches.

Disability can be a blessing in disguise by deepening contact with spiritual realities on which the soul depends. A disease, accident, or injury that has residual limitations can change a person’s priorities. Searching the soul, listening at prayer, and a renewal of faith infuses beautiful graces into one’s life.  Therese of Lisieux said, “Life is not a destination, it is a journey.” There is no lasting city. All things are passing on the road to heaven. In the light of eternity, doing things that seem so big and important dim in the holiness that radiates from doing simple, daily occupations.

Daily physical suffering, united with the sufferings of Christ, can achieve enormous good. There is a fulfillment that only Christ can give. Spiritually inclined women who live with fragile health, or physical disabilities, can, in fact, enrich religious life through their internal strength, discipline and spiritual ardor.

Almighty God, thrice holy,
I would be wholly thine,
A branch by grace engrafted
Onto the living vine.
Throb through my veins, O Love,
Enable me to bear
The baptism of suffering
I am constrained to share.

Lord Jesus, suffering Servant,
Suffuse me with compassion;
The cup of suff’ring overflows
The Garden of thy Passion;
Consume me with thy peace, thy love
And joy of knowing thee,
As I pray thy Passion payer
As in Gethsemane.

I tread the winepress, daunted:
Must it be daily trod?
The Cross repels yet draws me close
To union with God.

I quest the Lord in Eucharist
And from the chalice drink
The wine of sacrificial love,
While from the Cross I shrink.

Yet, to the Crucified I cry,
“Nail me to the Cross.
Permit thy light to shine through me
To be theotokos;
Transform me by thy saving power,
My darkness purify;
Impart the glory of the Cross
My life to deify.”

O, Spirit of the Living God,
With love my soul attire,
To manifest the choicest fruit
Thy presence can acquire
To incarnate the Spirit,
The will of self efface,
Absorbing love to render love
By God’s perfecting grace.

When the cup of suffering is full,
Spilling o’er the brim,
May th’ world discern God’s glory
In a life poured out for him.
Thy Passion toil will then seem light,
Such is glory’s weight:
That burden, too, is heavy,
But the privilege so great.

Rosemary Radley
Mount Carmel
January – March 2013


Benedictine
Does our Lord call only the strong and healthy to live contemplative religious lives consecrated to him? Father Maurice Gaucheron did not believe this to be true. During the late 1920’s he was serving at the renowned Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Paris, France. While there, he came to know several women who wanted to become contemplative nuns, but their less than robust health, or physical handicaps, made them undesirable candidates for religious life. No monastery would accept them. Father Gaucheron believed that illness and physical fragility were a viable means of following Jesus deeper into the paschal mystery, and could be an asset rather than an impediment to living the contemplative life, provided the vocation was authentic. He shared this proposal with Suzanne Wrotnowska. She could bring out the best in people, and had a great trust in the providence of God. Moved by grace, Suzanne envisioned a religious community that would welcome women in both strong and fragile physical health, as well as women with physical handicaps. Father Maurice and Suzanne began to seek out people who would support this unique way of monastic life, and women who were interested in living it. On April 11, 1930, Suzanne and four other women dedicated their lives to the future congregation through an Act of Consecration during Mass in the crypt of the Sacred Heart Basilica. At that time, Suzanne Wrotnowska became Mother Marie des Douleurs.

In 1933, the sisters were recognized as a religious community by the local bishop, Frédéric Lamy. They opened their first priory, St Joseph’s, which is near Paris, and is the congregation’s motherhouse. Over time, and with grace, canonical steps confirmed them as a monastic congregation of pontifical right. Their lifestyle is based on the Rule of St. Benedict, and they are known as the Benedictine Sisters of Jesus Crucified. Their charism within the Benedictine family is to embody a joyful reverence for, and deep participation in, the paschal mystery of Christ. “Amen, Alleluia!” is their motto. Their “amens” to Good Friday’s dark and difficult times carry the sisters to the “alleluias” of Easter Sunday’s light and new life. The “amen” to Jesus’ passion blossoms in the “alleluia” of his resurrection.

Today, the sisters have two monasteries in France, one in Japan, and one in the United States. Whatever the level of a sister’s physical health, with the aid of grace, all sisters strive to create an environment where each sister is valued, supported, and respected. The sisters are like a family that values a grateful love for their vocation, and for each other. Love is their ideal, and is made manifest by selfless acts of kindness toward each sister, and humor regarding the strange quirks of each sister. (Does God smile at the strange bird in each one of us?) Notre Mere, as Mother Marie des Douleurs was affectionately called, said in a conference:

As are all human beings, we are called upon to be dispensers of divine bounty. And the more we give, the more we ourselves shall have, and in superabundance. Let us give; let us give! Let us remember that we are obliged to give! Let us understand that every day we have a duty to smile, and be amiable, to give good example and advice; perhaps, to help those around us in some major way; or perhaps, only to please them in some small way! To bring back a little clarity into a soul, a little serenity into a face—isn’t that a fine and beautiful thing?” (Joy out of Sorrow, Mother Marie des Douleurs, p 11)

One of her sisters wrote: “The joy and peace to be in God’s house, and consecrated to him, is something that can never be explained.” This was Notre Mere’s gift to her spiritual daughters. She entered eternal life on December 10. 1983. On her memorial card are her words:

Because of the faithful mercy of the Lord, and only because of it, we can leave the night and the tomb behind, having left there all our evil that has now been conquered by the love of our God.—Mother Marie des Douleurs

The Benedictine Sisters of Jesus Crucified make a sincere effort to live in the light of redemptive suffering. So should all of us live redemptive suffering. It is a grace, and requires choices that draw out good from the confusion, difficulties, and trials of each day. On-going suffering is an obscure mystery that pulls an individual deeper into the mystery of Christ. In the light of redemptive suffering, we see that we are not alone. Jesus sustains an unwavering faith that gives our lives meaning and hope that keeps us moving forward. Suffering brings a person to the foot of the cross where she gets to know Jesus, which is distinctly different from knowing about Jesus. When an individual lives the cross, she grows in self-discipline and self-giving. Because of Jesus, suffering can be used well. When Jesus was dying on the cross, suffering became the gateway to resurrection.

Franciscan
Francis of Assisi helps all members of the Church militant. He explains that perfect joy does not come from talents and abilities, since these are not ultimately ours, but are gifts from God. He said the only true gifts we can give God, which are not from God, are our sufferings.

On the natural level, we do not want suffering but, if we strive toward living the Beatitudes, we can accept suffering with joy. Instead of trying to avoid or deny pain and trials, we try to accept them in a spirit that would allow us to offer this rarely appreciated gift to God. Francis found that suffering was the only thing that he had which he could give back to the Lord. Therefore, he lived the Beatitudes on a supernatural level. If we strive to imitate Francis, we are able to say: “I will not glory, save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Then we find true joy in fidelity to God, consistency in prayer, and patient endurance of the gifts we give to God. Joy is an interior state independent from that which affects us externally. Beneath the hardships is the fundamental reality of joy. The background to all suffering is complete faith in the ultimate triumph of the cross of Christ. Edith Stein said: “For now, the world consists of opposites. . . But in the end, none of those contrasts will remain. There will only be the fullness of love. How could it be otherwise?”

Mother Angelica, who was a Poor Clare nun, (and who died early his year) was well-known for her accomplishments, which include the founding of EWTN, a global Catholic network. Because of complications from a stroke, and other medical problems, she withdrew from EWTN at the end of 2001. In 2004, a program, EWTN Live, was aired, that featured Father Mitch Pacwa, S.J. and Father Benedict Groeschel, C.F.R. During the program, Father Pacwa said that during the last two years, EWTN had grown more than at any other time in their history. The growth was attributed to Mother Angelica’s offering of her suffering to God during those years.

Dominican

Human beings thrive by giving and receiving gifts from each other. We depend upon each other. God says to St. Catherine of Siena: “I could well have supplied each of you with all your needs, both spiritual and material. But I wanted to make you dependent on one another so that each of you would be my minister, dispensing the graces and gifts you have received from me.
-Tr Suzanne Noffke, O.P, Catherine of Siena, (New York, Mahwah, 1980, p. 38)

_______________

(The following story is taken from: “A Spirituality of Suffering and Healing,” Timothy Radcliffe, O.P., Religious Life Review, September – October 2012.)

Many suffering people need help. This may be a painful humiliation. And yet it may be an invitation to us all to be freed from the monstrous illusion that anyone of us is self sufficient. It is part of the beauty of being human, that I need others, in order that I may become myself. People with disabilities, who need help to get up in the morning or wash or shop, remind me that I, too, need others if I am to be truly human. Let me give you the example of my brother Vincent, who died a year ago. Vincent was blind from birth. He never saw another human face. He entered the Order when he was young, and soon became one of the most beloved members of the province. This is partly because he was a deeply lovable person, who was strong and humorous, and has utterly no self-pity.

When I was provincial, every community asked me if I would assign Vincent to their community. Not only was it because he was loveable; Vincent gathered community around him. You cannot have someone in the community who is totally blind unless you really are a community. You have to ensure that nothing is in his way when he feels his way down the corridors, and that the milk in the fridge is always in exactly the same place, so that he can find it. All our decisions about our common life have to bear Vincent in mind. And this is not a burden but a joy, since around him we discover each other. He summons us beyond the silly Western illusion that anyone is self-sufficient. In his needs, we discover our own need for each other. He frees us to be brothers, mutually dependent. Because he was blind, he depended upon his hearing. He heard sound bounce off the walls. He navigated around the rooms with his ears. And this meant that he was wonderfully sensitive to what the brethren say. He was appointed to the Formation Team, because he could spot what was happening in the lives of the young, their strengths and weaknesses, more than most of us. His disability was a gift. He picked up the nuances that others miss. He heard our secret fears and hopes in our voices. We are all blind and deaf in some way, and sometimes the blind teach us to hear, and the deaf teach us to see, and the lame give us the courage to take another step.” (Timothy Radcliffe, O.P.)

____________

A journey through life with fragile health can be a uniquely maturing experience. A person can only strive toward wholeness. Nobody is there yet. When illness comes along, an individual accepts it, and accepts ways that reduce its effects, or eliminates it. A person tries to be as well as he or she can be. A sickness or a handicap should not negatively effect, but can refine, one’s personality. A world view is broadened as well. To offer suffering to God the Father is an act of love for the entire world. Patient and uncomplaining suffering is a strong faith witness. Pain can be a motivator of change toward the good, and can lead to a deeper emersion in God. Unencumbered by being busy with many things, people who suffer can become channels of the love of Jesus crucified. When an individual feels broken, she can unite herself to Jesus on the cross, and send her love to the broken people, and broken places in the human family.

God sends his heaviest crosses
To those he calls his own,
And the bitterest drops of the chalice
Are reserved for his friends alone.
But the blood-red drops are precious,
And the crosses are all gain,
For joy is bought with sacrifice,
And the price of love is pain.

(Author unknown)


Carmelite
As a garden is beautiful through the variety of flowers within it, so is a Carmelite monastery beautiful through the charism of the nuns who live there. Each monastery of Carmelite nuns has its own particular charism. One may have a strong devotion to Mary, another an emphases on silence, or living in the present moment, or the practice of simplicity. The Sisters of Jesus Crucified live a tried and true charism within the Rule of St Benedict. Even though Therese of Lisieux said, “Suffering is the very best gift he has to give us. He gives it only to his chosen friends…” the charism of the Sisters of Jesus Crucified is not available within the Carmelite Rule of St Albert. It should be. It would be a great blessing if the Carmelite family had a nun’s Carmel with a charism similar to the Sisters of Jesus Crucified in the Benedictine family. Physically healthy, and not so healthy women, would be welcome here if they had gifts that support a Carmelite contemplative life style.

Such a monastic foundation would be unique and quite valid. Teresa Margaret Redi said: “By entering Carmel, you undertook to reproduce in yourself the life of the Crucified.” Isn’t a peaceful, loving acceptance of suffering inscribed in the heart of a Carmelite vocation? A wise Carmelite once said: “If you want to be a Carmelite, you can expect the cross.” Teresa of Avila was a master of the interior life, but she did not have good health. When a sister in poor health was up for profession, Teresa said to profess her even if she were bedridden. That sister became an outstanding prioress.

At the center of the garden in a Carmelite monastery of nuns, there stands a great crucifix. Edith Stein said: “May Jesus always lead me by the way of the cross.” A portion of the Angelus says: “. . .that we. . .may, by his passion and cross, be brought to the glory of the resurrection. . .” Gazing at a crucifix helps a vibrant soul thrive in a fragile body. The sisters in this proposed monastery would strive to live a joyful and deep participation in the paschal mystery of Christ which presents daily challenges and new discoveries. Being a Carmelite is less about how many holy activities one participates in, and more about how well one adapts to difficult circumstances that come one’s way. Living in the light of redemptive suffering fosters an ever deeper relationship with the Triune God through the passion of Jesus. No matter what their state of health, each sister would be important, and would contribute to the community. Less emphasis is on voluntary penitential acts, and more on offering to God, with a tranquil heart, that which is not chosen. A sister desires to kneel, but cannot do so through no fault of her own. She would have never chosen this limitation; however, in the spirit of the Beatitudes, she offers it as a gift to God. A sister is not disturbed by the way another sister walks or looks because true beauty is deeper than physical beauty. Accepting what comes without making a fuss about things, cheerfully willing to accept or give help, not giving in to negative thinking, and acting as if evil is winning, tests a sister’s mettle. When self-pity, or negative thoughts, knock on a sister’s door, she remembers: “Let nothing disturb me, let nothing frighten me, all things are passing, patience, patience, patience.” Although it is sometimes very hard to see, victory is already won by Christ.

Because the paschal mystery is ever new, each sister tries to maintain a positive attitude, and tries not to complain. Edith Stein said: “The road of suffering is the surest road to union with Our Lord. The redeeming power of suffering, joyfully borne, is greatly needed in our world today.” Hardships, joyfully borne, lead to the cross, and the cross leads to prayer for all who suffer in the human family. Because evil is real, tangible and frightening beyond words, prayer is what is most important, and most needed in today’s society. Carmelites should be specialists in prayer. Prayer at the foot of the cross helps a Carmelite to become more thoughtful, more sensitive, and more kind to those around her. It also can uncover courage that was previously unknown. Teresa of Avila notes: “One must not think that a person who is suffering is not praying. He is offering up his sufferings to God, and many a time, he is praying much more truly than one who goes away by himself and meditates his head off, and, if he has squeezed out a few tears, thinks that is prayer.”

When Father Gaucheron shared his idea with Suzanne Wrotnowska, she replied: “It’s very beautiful, Father, it is probably not impossible, but the realization will be difficult.” Their idea blossomed into a simple but profound, singularly beautiful and sound, expression of Benedictine contemplative monastic life. Women in good health and women with certain physical limitations, who seem to have the call to live a contemplative Carmelite life, should have the opportunity to live in a monastic setting.

With trust in God, and benevolence from grace, all things are possible. There is so much beauty in Carmel’s garden yet to discover.

Readers who desire to help with a Carmelite expression of this life are welcome to contact the author at: jmjcsh@juno.com.

The Rejected Bride

Feb 2, 2020 | 5 comments

By Esther Caswell, reprinted with permission from her blog.

Jesus, we need to talk. Like the prophets of old or the Psalmist, I need answers to my complaint. My heart is racked in pain. I need you to answer me. Hope in you becomes my instrument of torture in this regard. Please apply the salve of truth.

Who are you to those who heard our cry as Bridegroom and who innocently followed you, who left everything behind and prostrated themselves before you giving you everything, these ones who entered your Church believing it was a Mother, a place of belonging only to be told in your Name that they were excluded, unfit, unwanted and unredeemable? Those who were tortured during lonely nights and told in the day to keep their selves tucked in and their brokenness hidden, that their love would cause harm. Who were told that any love they needed would come from you alone and reminded through correction how they ought to sit and stand and kneel when they pray? Who were told to spare the dramatics of tears in your presence like Eli told Hannah of old? Those who only wanted you and were told by the “voice of God” that they were not enough? Whom do you choose Jesus? What of these rejected? Are they like those who came to the wedding banquet improperly clothed and are now subject to wailing and gnashing of teeth? How is it that thieves, prostitutes, and public sinners are promised your Kingdom but these tossed away? And when they are tossed away because their white knuckles could no longer hold the death grip, who is there to catch them? They are regarded with suspicion and punished by all for falling off a pedestal that somehow the Church needs. Even the divorced woman in the back pew is better understood because we can all allow husbands to be weak.

How many now to prove their worth to you by a strange kind of “forced labor” for your Church, their own private Gulag, through work is their salvation? Some hold themselves to even higher standards as if all the good work and prayer could somehow wipe out the shame of being unwanted by YOU. Others already feeling the condemnation, fall the other way in despair hoping to find something that will numb the pain of this rejection. Like soldiers back from war they are mentally tortured by making sense of what does not make sense, by trying to find the God they only wanted serve.

I do not make this appeal to anyone but you because you know those of which I speak. You know well. Can you please tell me your heart breaks too? Please tell me, Jesus, that this is not you! Jesus, come to all those who have been wounded by your mediators. Come to those who find it hard to breathe in the presence of innocent enthusiasm for you because to them it represents the way the pain began. Come to those who cannot trust themselves or your voice in them because that place has been broken. Because they did and it led to their demise. Come to those who feel like they asked for a fish and were given a snake. Jesus, come to those who even still have made attempts to come to you and were turned away like a disease that can be caught.

Jesus, Abba, Holy Spirit: Tell me this is not who you are! Please I beg you, make it clear. You are God, I will follow no other but if I may claim my intimacy with your cross as my authority and remind you who you are. You are the God for the weak and abandoned who forgave the thief as you died. You defend the orphan and the widow, and Lord please your rejected bride! Jesus, I need you to go find them in their places of darkness and shame. I need you to bath them and clothe them. I need you to restore the integrity of your name. I come like Esther before the King. Jesus please, act on their behalf.

You and I both know there is no other way. You have to go yourself or send your Mother. No one in your Church seems to understand these ones and perhaps it is because they do not want to admit the Bride is broken because they will need more Faith in you.

The Path is Not Always Straight

Apr 3, 2019 | 1 comment

By Rosemary Kate.

Recently, I was invited to attend a Mass of Thanksgiving for Blessed Clelia Merloni, foundress of the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  I knew nothing about her, but who doesn’t like attending a special Mass with great pomp and circumstance? Besides, I work in Catholic education and thus have a connection to her community today.  The program for Mass had a one page biography, which was nice.  More importantly, there was a short book at the back of the Cathedral that I picked up afterwards and have since been reading, titled, “I Bless You with a Hundred Hearts.”  I discovered that Blessed Clelia could certainly be another intercessor for Leonie’s Longing readers!

Even her biography on the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus webpage does not have the details that caught my eye.  It merely states,

“After various experiences of religious life in different congregations, Clelia entered the Congregation of the Daughters of St. Mary of Divine Providence…Immersed in a life of self-giving and prayer, she sensed a strong calling to establish a new congregation dedicated to works of charity which would visibly express the love of Christ.”

“Various experiences” refers to short stints (usually less than a year) with 6 different congregations!  SIX!  For those of us who have entered and left one or two, I imagine Blessed Clelia may have had thoughts similar to our own along the way.  In between some of those, she also opened and  closed a couple of ministries of her own as a laywoman.  The whole time from her first entrance to her founding of the community was about 10 years.

Her life was certainly guided by Divine Providence, because most of her leavings were due to illness.  For example, her first attempt was at the Monastery of the Visitation, where she became so ill it seemed she was at the point of death but following a dream that upon reception of Holy Communion she would recover, that is what happened.  She still returned home as all advised her to seek a less rigid congregation.  Her stint with the Daughters of St. Mary of Divine Providence came to an end after an illness where the orphans prayed for her recovery as a sign that she was indeed called to follow her inspiration of founding a community herself.

Perhaps most of us have not had such unusual guidance in our vocational discernment, yet, her example of perseverance is worthy of emulation.  No matter where our vocational journeys lead us (whether as a consecrated religious or into holy matrimony), her life can inspire us to continue to trust God, especially when the path seems unclear.  I quote from the book:

It seems that Clelia’s life may have been purified above all by the suffering of obscurity.  God tested her faith by immersing her in large part on a path of darkness.  Doubt, “a hot-bed of purification,” existed for a long time in Clelia’s heart.  As we often see in the lives of saints, she possessed gifts of light, of graces that enlightened the path for others; the ground on which she herself walked, however, was often poorly lit.

Who of us has not felt the same about our own lives?  As I continue to seek my next steps, now several years after leaving my community, Blessed Clelia’s life reminds me that I don’t need to have it all figured out yet.  In fact, my next steps seem to be taking me further from religious life.  Nevertheless, this Blessed has encouraged me to keep moving forward.

After the founding of her community, Blessed Clelia’s trials did not come to an end.  I haven’t finished reading the book, but the little I do know already is inspiring.  Some of those details are found here.  What her story says to all of us is, never give up hope as we trust God and strive to live His Mercy – while the path does not appear straight to us, we are guided by the Hand of our Loving Father.

Blessed Clelia Merloni, Pray for us!

 

Image credits: By ASCJ.Roma – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=67168692 

On the Threshold of Something Beautiful

Feb 26, 2019 | 0 comments

By Cate (re-printed with kind permission from her blog Seeking Sunflowers) .

I turned right one street before I needed to—the route that led to my old apartment. Shoot, I thought to myself. I’m already running late, and now I have to drive around the block and lose more time. After turning left in order to get back to where I needed to be, I saw a male figure I recognized walking down the sidewalk. My hunch was confirmed as I approached his vicinity, so I pulled over and called out the window to him.

This man and his wife were friends of mine from high school. We reconnected several month ago, before I moved out of town for missions. I had thought about reaching out to them while I was home on break, but my schedule filled quickly, making it impossible to see everyone this time around.

I got out of my car, and we stood chatting for a few minutes in the cold, catching up briefly on life before exchanging hugs and wishing one another well. I was grateful for the happy accident—the seemingly wrong turn—that afforded me this encounter.

Isn’t that how life is sometimes? Unexpected turns lead us down roads that, in the end, we are happy we didn’t miss. In fact, some the greatest joys in my own life have been the result of turns that, at the time of choosing, I seriously questioned being the “right” choice.

I remember the state of my heart one dreary January afternoon several years ago. I was sitting at an office desk across from my friend Theresa, who had been supervisor, coworker, and mentor to me. I had just made a decision that rocked my world—to leave the Catholic organization I had been serving with practically my entire adult life up to that point. Through tears I verbalized to my confidant that I had just made the worst decision of my life.

My dear friend, who knew that the decision came as the result of much prayer and discernment, encouraged me to consider that this detour—if it was in fact a detour—was happening for a reason, and that perhaps there was something or someone along this path that I needed to encounter.

Theresa was right. As I look back, I no longer see in this decision a wrong turn, and I no longer believe that I took a detour. That was the way I was meant to follow, and the blessings that came as a result are ones that I can’t imagine not having as part of my life today.

Since that cold January day I have made plenty of other questionable turns in the road. Some I have made peace with. Other I still wrestle with in my mind. But on my better days I am able to see that all has served to bring me to where I am now.

As we begin a new year, and I begin a new chapter in life, the temptation can be to jettison the past and “begin anew.” While there is certainly wisdom in this approach, I have found the Holy Spirit leading me in a different direction presently.

One of the words I received for this year is build. While this was the one generated for me on a website, and not the one I received in prayer (more on that in another post), I have nonetheless been reflecting on its significance.

We tend to see time as linear: the past in the shadows behind us, and the future on the horizon ahead. But lately I have been challenged to see time as more horizontal. We build on the foundation of the past and ascend toward the future that awaits us. Our past—with its joys and sorrows, good and bad, triumphs and mistakes—all serve as a foundation for where we find ourselves in the present.

Today I stand on this foundation, on the brink of something new. In a few short days I will board a plane to Peru and begin to make a home in this new country. I have a different view than I did on that January day. I now see that it was only by making that difficult decision, and many other that have followed, I am here, once again ready to step into the foreign mission field.

I am grateful for the roads I’ve traveled, for the wisdom gleaned from each chapter, for the beautiful, the challenging, and the grueling. My good God has allowed each and every piece of the journey to bring me to where I stand today, on the threshold of something beautiful.

Album Review: “Evergreen” by Audrey Assad

Mar 7, 2018 | 1 comment

By Mouse.

I’ve been following the work of Leonie’s Longing for a few years now, even though I’m having the opposite problem from many others who might read this: my circumstances mean that I am having a hard time *entering* a convent, rather than transitioning out of one. I’ve been discerning a call to consecrated life for 4 years and counting…what a wild, unexpected, eye-opening, hilarious, frustrating, love-filled adventure!

The soundtrack to much of it has come from one of my favourite artists: Audrey Assad. I donated to a crowdfunding campaign for her new album Evergreen a few months ago. Thanks to the behind-the-scenes glimpses she gave, I knew most of the words before it was released to donors at the end of January. (Now it’s available for the wider public – on iTunes, Spotify, and other major services.) I’ve had a lot of time to contemplate the lyrics, and have found them to be a blessing in this current “stagnant” season of my discernment. I’ve found myself asking “Is God working, when I haven’t seen any ‘progress’ towards His plan for me in months? Is He still there?”

I suppose it’s not that different “on the other side” of the convent…thinking that God’s plan was for you to live in a religious community, when, at least for a time, you’ve been called back out into the lay world with no idea of what’s next. As I wrestle with Him, I’m grateful to know that at least one other Catholic out there has admitted that faith doesn’t come easy for her. Kudos to Audrey for being been brave enough to share her story in a culture that expects faith to provide constant happiness and easy answers. I thought a song-by-song review of the album was the best way to pass on what her prayers have taught me.

#1 – Evergreen – The album opens with one of the most perplexing ideas of our faith: God on a cross – who would have thought it? This place looks nothing like Eden. And yet the Cross – and our God exhausted, suffering, totally spent as He’s on it – is what saves us and brings us to new life. We meet someone who has not completely worked through a trial in her faith yet, but is learning to find God in the strange, unknown, untamed places He has led her. Here in the wild, my hands are empty, and yet I’ve had all I needed. There is no drought out here in the desert; I’ve found a water that’s living. Out past the fear, doubt becomes wonder…rivers appear and I’m going under…” I get the sense that the struggle could have destroyed her, but didn’t. In having no other option but to trust God, she has learned that he can be trusted. Instead of asking whether God will provide for her, she is amazed to find out how. The tree of life is evergreen, indeed – remaining with us, showing us that divine life and love will have the final word, even when all seems lost.

At first, I thought these words were an odd choice to begin the album. Why start with a song about seeing the light at the end of the tunnel? But I’ve come to see it as encouragement from a friend, saying “I’ve made it through the worst part of this situation and grown in it. You can too.”

#2 – Deliverer – If you read the lyrics the way I did originally, you might be a bit shocked. You are not possessive; You respect all things. You are not invasive; You have no envy. You are not insistent…And then your mind, like mine, might ramble for a bit… “WHAT!? Aren’t You supposed to be…well…jealous? Aren’t You supposed to invade and ruin our ideas of what is good, right, true, and brings joy? One of the prayers at Mass says that we are ‘a people of His own possession!’ Didn’t my desire to orient every part of my life towards God bring me on this path in the first place? Didn’t I start traveling down this road because He asked me to consider it?”

Audrey wrote a blog post explaining her intentions here – God may rule over us, but as the song later says, He does not “force us” to love Him. Instead, His love “is freedom” and will always surpass our human impulse to make what we love into our own image. True callings from God – to religious life and elsewhere – are asked of us, not demanded. They include the possibility of saying no.

The best part, by far, is the bridge: In the ruins of my heart You preach to the poor, turning over stones to show me there is more – more than all I ask, more than I’m looking for in the ruins of my heart. Putting together all these realizations about who God is not, and what he does not expect of us, is painful. It’s so different from what we might be used to. Getting to the ruins of our hearts will have forced us to see our poverty and weakness…but all of it is met with such abundant love.

#3 – Little Things With Great Love – This song was first featured on the fantastic “Work Songs” album by the Porter’s Gate Worship Project (on Spotify here and iTunes here). Audrey was inspired by a phrase often attributed to Mother Teresa: This You have asked of us – do little things with great love.

My favourite saints tend to be those who see everything as an opportunity for love and holiness – St. Therese, St. Gianna, and yes, Mother Teresa, to name a few. Like them, Audrey reminds us that no flower grows unseen…No simple act of mercy escapes His watchful eye. For there is One who sees me; His hand is over mine.

The second verse is a bit more personal. When Work Songs was released, I had just found out that a childhood friend of mine was accepted as a postulant in a certain convent. Another of my best friends had already lived there for a year…and it was the same one that I’d been dreaming of since I was a teenager. It felt like the Lord was rubbing it in – “You can’t be there, so here’s your consolation prize!” Of course, God is not that cruel, and I needed Audrey’s words to remind me of the truth for the next few months. In the kingdom of the heavens, no suffering is unknown. Each tear that falls is holy, each breaking heart a throne. There is a song of beauty on every weeping eye. For there is One who loves me – His heart, it breaks with mine. He does not mock my pain and desperation…He shares it.

#4 – The Joy of the Lord – The first line sounds so much like the impasse I’ve reached.  Mountains ahead of me and valleys behind – the road may be narrow, but your mercy is wide. Having to climb those mountains doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve gotten God’s will “wrong.” God’s love is with us no matter how lost or “off-track” we feel. And then the deepest truth: Sorrow may linger and last for the night but I am never alone. The joy of the Lord is my strength… I am on this path because of the Lord – because I have known His love and want to return it wholeheartedly, because that kind of answer will bring joy to my Love’s heart and my own. And as I gather courage to take the next step, I may be weak, but I’ll cling to the vine. I’m pressed but not crushed, for You are making new wine. Wounds may be opened and weakness revealed, but I will be healed in the fire.  I am reminded of my weakness, and my need to trust that these obstacles have a purpose. (St. Therese’s attitude to her own delay in living her vocation comes to mind. She treated her period of waiting to enter Carmel like a “training ground” to grow in virtue. That image gives me such hope! I hope it does the same for you, no matter what your future holds.)

#5 – River (feat. Propaganda) – “River” isn’t as obviously connected to discernment…but the frustration and hope of people seeking justice, and God’s “reaction” to the movements of their hearts, will stand out. She could not even follow the Lord and live. ‘God will be with you just as you say he is.’

#6 – Unfolding – This is a cry of desperation. How do I grieve what I can’t let go? It’s got a hold on me. How do I mourn what I cannot know? It’s got a hold, it’s got a hold on me… None of us know what life with the communities we love and cannot remain with would have been. Having to grieve what might have been doesn’t always make sense, and can feel like a waste of time. At its deepest, it can lead us to question Who God is, how He sees us, and even make our own identity a mystery. Oh my God, I don’t know what this was, am I a child of your love or just chaos unfolding? How do I keep what I cannot find – I’m letting go, I’m letting go of You. (Well, not entirely, but getting rid of old, ill-fitting ideas of who God is and what He wants from us can be frightening at times.) I don’t have the answer to any of these questions, and neither does Audrey…but at least we aren’t alone?

#7 – Teresa – Mother Teresa is known around the world as an example of faith. It was only after her death that the decades of desolation she experienced came to light. Again, while I’ve only known small bits of this darkness, it’s not hard to see myself in the pleading questions she must have had for her Divine “Lover”: did you call my name just to plunge me deep into the darkness? I, too, find it hard not to listen to the accusers around me…whispering to me that I’m wilfully blind and clinging to nothing. If God has really called me to be His, wouldn’t He make it easier and more obvious? If you’ve just left community life, it must seem like even more of a betrayal. Does Jesus still love you if you were not meant to live for Him in this particular way?

Mother Teresa’s attitude towards His absence is an extraordinary. She wanted to admit her pain privately, but to hide it from everyone else she came into contact with. She wanted to smile even at Jesus – after all, I trusted your promise, I gave you my life. We should strive to imitate that perseverance and loyalty. At the same time, I find it comforting to know that one of the greatest saints also questioned His love for her.

#8 – Irrational Season – More than anything else on the record, this one comes the closest to capturing the current state of my heart. I’m at a standstill, and it doesn’t make sense Nothing sensible has yet appeared in this irrational season…but the light is wilder here, out on the edge of reason. I may have a lot of desires, but I’m trying to have very few expectations. That way, God is almost “more free” to act. My plans won’t prevent me from seeing the radical love in His vision for my life, which expands far beyond my own. At the same time, I can see that Love burns bright and clear out where I cannot seize Him.

Again, we find that real Love does not want to possess or be possessed. I personally know what I am meant to do (Be His. Make self-giving service and prayer the point of my life. Tell other people how much they are loved.) The how is still a mystery. (Religious life? Consecrated virginity? Who knows!) To see God revealing a “destination” in the lives of people I love, while I am still traveling towards mine, is extremely frustrating…but it’s yet another call to cultivate trust.

#9 – Wounded Healer – I love the Celtic sound Audrey explores here! God may be mysterious, and His work might even leave us hurt and confused, but He is not distant. Pain is not foreign to Him. As Isaiah says, by your wounds we shall be healed. God’s power is not the brute force of a dictator, bending us to His unpredictable whim. Instead, its aim is to heal and unite us to Him in love. His arms stretched out not to part the seas, but to open up the grave. Blood poured out not for war, but peace and to show us God’s own face. His way contains no fire, no fury, just death into life. over and over, till all things are right. Knowing that he suffers with us makes it so much easier to say Wounded Healer, we give our hearts to you.

#10 – When I See You – Audrey has said that this song is inspired by the Prodigal Son. I can see two stages of his (and our) approach to the Father: You have loved me well, in a million ways, but my wounds are all I know. So I turn my head and I hide my face, too afraid to come back home. From where some of us stand, it might sound like “Why should I come to You with this wounded heart when my response to Your love seems to be the cause of it?” We might even wonder whether He’ll look down on us for thinking that way. The second verse shows the adventure we’re being called to: When my fear comes close, and it robs me blind, oh, how Your love provides for me. What a winding road, what a river wild, being Yours, becoming free! We will not feel abandoned, miserable, or captive forever. That’s not the state God intended for us. The once-paralyzing fear grows cold in the light of Your love once we see Him as He really is.

#11 – Immanuel’s Land – Depending on where you are in your healing, this will either be the easiest or hardest song to hear. Christ, He is the fountain, the deep, sweet well of love…fuller than the ocean, His mercy does expand…no problem there. I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved’s mine!? For most of my post-conversion life, I have believed that such intimate expressions of love belong only to…well, nuns! Not so. C.S. Lewis even embraced the term; the line “And this is the marvel of marvels, that he called me Beloved.” is hidden towards the end of the Narnia series. We are the ones God loves, whether we’re in the convent or out, whether we’ve discovered our vocation and made a permanent commitment to love or not. Jesus, of course, does not give Himself to us halfway.

For me, the most important wisdom is found in the “bride’s” priorities. Love has revealed Himself to her, and so she eyes not her garment, but her dear Bridegroom’s face. She will not gaze at glory, but on my King of grace – not at the crown He giveth, but on His pierced hand. None of the beauty around her is as captivating as its Source.

I am trying not to worry about my own “garment.”  Will I swap shopping sprees for habits one day? Is a wedding dress completely off the table? I have no idea. At times I’ve found myself so distracted by thoughts on what might be that I miss what is. I’m not going to be an expert on love just because I’ve made some kind of commitment. The ways I am asked to love today will shape the ways I love in my permanent vocation. I should realize that now, and keep fighting the temptation to look in at myself all the time.

12 – Drawn to You – Plenty of Christian songs are inspired by the enthusiastic, all-consuming commitment of a new convert. Evergreen finishes with a similar profession of sorts, reflecting Audrey’s faith in its current stripped-down form. All my devotion is like sinking sand. I’ve nothing to cling to but Your sweet hand. No clear emotions keeping me safe at night; only Your presence, like a candle light. The “fragility” she faces is not so different from the setbacks we face in discovering our vocations. We can’t rely on our hearts alone to tell us what is true. Even the circumstances in front of us do not always tell us of God’s goodness as clearly as we’d like. As painful as the “refining” process has been, she has discovered how much she needs to rely on Jesus. After everything I’ve had, after everything I’ve lost, Lord, I know this much is true. I’m still drawn to you. Sorrow has become precious. Even her tears have been transformed into an offering of the highest praise. Most importantly, none of this is “accepted” in a grumbling, obligatory way. Audrey and her “offering” are welcomed by the Lord as-is. There is no need for perfection or masks with this God who sees and loves all the imperfections. Can we remain faithful to Him after everything’s been said and especially after everything love cost? (Think of two friends who don’t need to be caught up in conversation to enjoy spending time with each other.) Audrey’s experience proves that love transcending feelings may not always be pleasant, but it is possible.