![How Do You “Offer It Up”?]()
by Catherine | Mar 14, 2013 | Faith
As you all know, the Catholic Church has a new Holy Father, Pope Francis I! Hooray! May God bless him and his office abundantly. I don’t think I have anything especially profound to add to what the other writers in the Catholic blogosphere are saying, so I’ll leave that to them for now.
In between changing/folding loads of laundry and playing family room referee, I was listening to my favorite podcast, Catholic Answers Live. (Really, if you have never heard the show, do yourself a favor, and download it or listen to the live radio show today!)
One of my favorite guests, Mother Miriam of the Lamb of God, has the special gift of imparting her spiritual wisdom in a way that only the best spiritual mothers can. She is living proof that the world needs the gift of motherhood from all women—regardless of our vocation or whether or not we ever have biological children of our own.
Anyway, a caller on the second hour of the March 6th episode asked what it means to “offer it up.” He “had always heard the nuns” talking about this concept while he was in school, but he wasn’t exactly sure why or how to do this or if he was offering things up in the right context.
As usual, Mother Miriam’s answer blew me away, and I have to share it with you. (I’ll type her response below, but if you’d like to listen to the episode or download it for yourself, click on the link here.)
“In fact, Pope John Paul II, our beloved Holy Father in his time, when one priest came to him because he had enormous pain in his knee and needed surgery, he came to him and said, ‘Holy Father, please pray for my knee,’ John Paul smacked the priest across the face! He said to him, ‘Don’t waste your suffering!’ You see, because we can put our suffering to work for salvation–our own, others, for the Kingdom.
But what is it that we offer up? We offer our pain up in union with Jesus on the cross. You’re Catholic, Dave (the caller), right? Yes? Blessed be God! And you believe when Jesus died his sacrifice was sufficient to pay for the sins of the whole word. But, He brings us in. He allows us to have a share in His suffering and in his mission for the world.
For example, when we’re at Mass, and the priest invites the parishoners in the language of the Mass to offer our sufferings ‘through Him, with Him, and in Him,’ it is that we join our sufferings to the cross, which, at the Mass, as you believe is Calvary made present–not the re-sacrifice of Christ, but the re-presentation of the once for all sacrifice of Christ that happened 2000 years ago in time, brought through time, and made present on the altar.
And, it’s the biggest thing, dear David, that led me into the Church. To know that He died for my sins. I put Him on the cross. I, in effect, yelled ‘crucify Him!’ with that crowd. He died for sin, and He died for my sins. And, to learn that I put Him to death by my sin and that, though I caused His death, He would now receive me in the very sacrifice that He paid in order for me to have life. It was just overwhelming for me. So, He enables us to join with Him. And, in a sense, though His sacrifice is sufficient, we add to it.
I was sharing with a group of women today a story that I have shared many times, maybe [with] some of our listeners, that would help me–of thinking of a mother in the kitchen baking a chocolate cake. She has all of the ingredients. She is sufficient for the task. She needs nothing and she needs no one, but into the kitchen comes her little three-year-old daughter.
‘Mommy, can I help you?’
 |
| Jane and her chocolate “Happy Birthday, Jesus” Christmas cake |
And, love receives. Love doesn’t say, ‘No, goodbye. I have enough.’ Love receives.
And, so, the mother says, ‘Sure, honey.’
And the little girl comes and throws some egg, or flour, or stuff in the cake. The mother didn’t need her help, but the mother receives her addition. And, it’s a true addition.
Our Lord on the cross died for the world. He’s God. He needs nothing and no one. And, yet, He’s given us a share in redemption with Him. He takes our sufferings–whether it’s your incredibly painful feet or even the smallest annoying cold that somebody has. If we take that pain and we say, ‘Lord Jesus, in a sense, I have a gift to give You. I want to give You this suffering. And, I want You to take it, and I want You to unite it with your suffering on the cross. And, I’m asking, dear Lord Jesus, that You would use it for ________ (and then you fill in that space). For me, for my growth in holiness, for someone I love who needs to come back to the Church, for someone in the third world that hasn’t heard the Gospel.’ Or, just leave it with the Blessed Mother where she knows it’s needed best. And we give it to Him. We are offering it up. We are offering our suffering up to the cross with our Savior. And, He takes it, and He receives it, and He puts it to work.
And, so, we’re not wasting our suffering. And, what I’ve found, dear Dave, concerning when I do that myself, regardless of what the suffering is–it could be physical, emotional, whatever it is–I find that it no longer controls me. The pain may be there or the scars from woundedness may be there. But it no longer controls me because I feel that I can say to the devil ‘take that!’ because I put it to work and defeated, so to speak, that aspect of the fall that caused that pain.
Now, I still have the pain, or I still have the scars, but the sting is gone because, even though it’s painful, as Jesus’ death was on the cross, it’s being put to work now for salvation and for the Kingdom.
So, to me, it’s an incredible privilege that our Lord would allow us to offer up to Him, up to his cross, to unite our sufferings with Him for the salvation of the world.”
After the caller said that he appreciated Mother Miriam’s explanation and that it made so much sense, she said,
“Blessed be God! Nothing touches us that our blessed Lord doesn’t allow, so He must be on his way to making you a saint, Dave.”
Wow. Wow. Wow. I needed to hear those words, and I know I’ll need to re-read this transcript of her response again and again. So many great reminders. After listening to Mother Miriam’s response, I’ve been reflecting on her words. I’m realizing several things and asking myself a few questions:
- I need Blessed John Paul II to show up on my door step–especially on those days when I’m tempted to give in to pity parties. I need him to slap me in the face, and say, “Don’t waste your suffering!”
- How much suffering have I wasted (a stubbed toe, a sinus infection, the loss of a loved one, etc.)? How can I cultivate the habit of “offering it up” so as not to let that suffering go to waste?
- Am I fully laying my sufferings down on the altar when I go to Mass and allowing my sufferings to be offered up “through Him, with Him, and in Him”?
- Am I allowing my suffering to control me? Do I allow even the smallest sufferings to control my day, my interactions with others, or my prayer life?
- Do I receive my spouse, my children, and others in love like the mother baking the chocolate cake? Do I receive them and their real additions in love? Or, do I say that I am enough and need nothing and no one?
- Do I remember that God is God and has no need of me but that even He allows me to unite my sufferings with Him for the salvation of the world?
- Do I believe in the universal call to holiness? Do I truly believe that I could become a saint? If not, why?
If you’re like me, you’ll be contemplating these questions and Mother Miriam’s words well beyond the season of Lent and for the rest of your life.
How do you “offer it up”? Do you have any practical tips or advice to share?
![How Do You "Offer It Up"?]()
by Catherine | Mar 14, 2013 | Faith
As you all know, the Catholic Church has a new Holy Father, Pope Francis I! Hooray! May God bless him and his office abundantly. I don’t think I have anything especially profound to add to what the other writers in the Catholic blogosphere are saying, so I’ll leave that to them for now.
In between changing/folding loads of laundry and playing family room referee, I was listening to my favorite podcast, Catholic Answers Live. (Really, if you have never heard the show, do yourself a favor, and download it or listen to the live radio show today!)
One of my favorite guests, Mother Miriam of the Lamb of God, has the special gift of imparting her spiritual wisdom in a way that only the best spiritual mothers can. She is living proof that the world needs the gift of motherhood from all women—regardless of our vocation or whether or not we ever have biological children of our own.
Anyway, a caller on the second hour of the March 6th episode asked what it means to “offer it up.” He “had always heard the nuns” talking about this concept while he was in school, but he wasn’t exactly sure why or how to do this or if he was offering things up in the right context.
As usual, Mother Miriam’s answer blew me away, and I have to share it with you. (I’ll type her response below, but if you’d like to listen to the episode or download it for yourself, click on the link here.)
“In fact, Pope John Paul II, our beloved Holy Father in his time, when one priest came to him because he had enormous pain in his knee and needed surgery, he came to him and said, ‘Holy Father, please pray for my knee,’ John Paul smacked the priest across the face! He said to him, ‘Don’t waste your suffering!’ You see, because we can put our suffering to work for salvation–our own, others, for the Kingdom.
But what is it that we offer up? We offer our pain up in union with Jesus on the cross. You’re Catholic, Dave (the caller), right? Yes? Blessed be God! And you believe when Jesus died his sacrifice was sufficient to pay for the sins of the whole word. But, He brings us in. He allows us to have a share in His suffering and in his mission for the world.
For example, when we’re at Mass, and the priest invites the parishoners in the language of the Mass to offer our sufferings ‘through Him, with Him, and in Him,’ it is that we join our sufferings to the cross, which, at the Mass, as you believe is Calvary made present–not the re-sacrifice of Christ, but the re-presentation of the once for all sacrifice of Christ that happened 2000 years ago in time, brought through time, and made present on the altar.
And, it’s the biggest thing, dear David, that led me into the Church. To know that He died for my sins. I put Him on the cross. I, in effect, yelled ‘crucify Him!’ with that crowd. He died for sin, and He died for my sins. And, to learn that I put Him to death by my sin and that, though I caused His death, He would now receive me in the very sacrifice that He paid in order for me to have life. It was just overwhelming for me. So, He enables us to join with Him. And, in a sense, though His sacrifice is sufficient, we add to it.
I was sharing with a group of women today a story that I have shared many times, maybe [with] some of our listeners, that would help me–of thinking of a mother in the kitchen baking a chocolate cake. She has all of the ingredients. She is sufficient for the task. She needs nothing and she needs no one, but into the kitchen comes her little three-year-old daughter.
‘Mommy, can I help you?’
|
| Jane and her chocolate “Happy Birthday, Jesus” Christmas cake |
And, love receives. Love doesn’t say, ‘No, goodbye. I have enough.’ Love receives.
And, so, the mother says, ‘Sure, honey.’
And the little girl comes and throws some egg, or flour, or stuff in the cake. The mother didn’t need her help, but the mother receives her addition. And, it’s a true addition.
Our Lord on the cross died for the world. He’s God. He needs nothing and no one. And, yet, He’s given us a share in redemption with Him. He takes our sufferings–whether it’s your incredibly painful feet or even the smallest annoying cold that somebody has. If we take that pain and we say, ‘Lord Jesus, in a sense, I have a gift to give You. I want to give You this suffering. And, I want You to take it, and I want You to unite it with your suffering on the cross. And, I’m asking, dear Lord Jesus, that You would use it for ________ (and then you fill in that space). For me, for my growth in holiness, for someone I love who needs to come back to the Church, for someone in the third world that hasn’t heard the Gospel.’ Or, just leave it with the Blessed Mother where she knows it’s needed best. And we give it to Him. We are offering it up. We are offering our suffering up to the cross with our Savior. And, He takes it, and He receives it, and He puts it to work.
And, so, we’re not wasting our suffering. And, what I’ve found, dear Dave, concerning when I do that myself, regardless of what the suffering is–it could be physical, emotional, whatever it is–I find that it no longer controls me. The pain may be there or the scars from wound
edness may be there. But it no longer controls me because I feel that I can say to the devil ‘take that!’ because I put it to work and defeated, so to speak, that aspect of the fall that caused that pain.
Now, I still have the pain, or I still have the scars, but the sting is gone because, even though it’s painful, as Jesus’ death was on the cross, it’s being put to work now for salvation and for the Kingdom.
So, to me, it’s an incredible privilege that our Lord would allow us to offer up to Him, up to his cross, to unite our sufferings with Him for the salvation of the world.”
After the caller said that he appreciated Mother Miriam’s explanation and that it made so much sense, she said,
“Blessed be God! Nothing touches us that our blessed Lord doesn’t allow, so He must be on his way to making you a saint, Dave.”
Wow. Wow. Wow. I needed to hear those words, and I know I’ll need to re-read this transcript of her response again and again. So many great reminders. After listening to Mother Miriam’s response, I’ve been reflecting on her words. I’m realizing several things and asking myself a few questions:
- I need Blessed John Paul II to show up on my door step–especially on those days when I’m tempted to give in to pity parties. I need him to slap me in the face, and say, “Don’t waste your suffering!”
- How much suffering have I wasted (a stubbed toe, a sinus infection, the loss of a loved one, etc.)? How can I cultivate the habit of “offering it up” so as not to let that suffering go to waste?
- Am I fully laying my sufferings down on the altar when I go to Mass and allowing my sufferings to be offered up “through Him, with Him, and in Him”?
- Am I allowing my suffering to control me? Do I allow even the smallest sufferings to control my day, my interactions with others, or my prayer life?
- Do I receive my spouse, my children, and others in love like the mother baking the chocolate cake? Do I receive them and their real additions in love? Or, do I say that I am enough and need nothing and no one?
- Do I remember that God is God and has no need of me but that even He allows me to unite my sufferings with Him for the salvation of the world?
- Do I believe in the universal call to holiness? Do I truly believe that I could become a saint? If not, why?
If you’re like me, you’ll be contemplating these questions and Mother Miriam’s words well beyond the season of Lent and for the rest of your life.
How do you “offer it up”? Do you have any practical tips or advice to share?
![Adopt a Cardinal]()
by Catherine | Mar 6, 2013 | Faith
Are you looking for a unique way to support the cardinals as they come together to elect the next pope? Look no further than adoptacardinal.org! At adoptacardinal.org,
You now have the opportunity to actively be part of this providential endeavour by having a Cardinal assigned to you, who you will support through your prayer and intercession during the coming weeks before and during the conclave and for three days following the election.
To register on the site, you simply enter: your name, your e-mail address, and a code to prove that you are not a robot abusing the site. Then, you are assigned a cardinal to “adopt” throughout and beyond the papal conclave.
After entering my information, I received information and a photo of my adopted cardinal, Timothy Cardinal Dolan.
In addition to a photo, those adopting cardinals learn basic information such as: the cardinal’s birth date, the date of their entrance into the college of cardinals, where the cardinal is from, and his “function” (in Timothy Cardinal Dolan’s case, he is the Archbishop of New York, United States).
Consider adopting a cardinal as a family. I am printing off Timothy Cardinal Dolan’s photo and placing it on the fridge to give us a visual reminder to pray for him. Perhaps placing his photo on the fridge will encourage us to fast when we otherwise would have indulged! We are trying to learn as much as we can about this man entrusted with this special office–reading about the Archdiocese of New York, subscribing to his personal blog, etc.
Perhaps this is the former teacher in me talking, but I think it would be a fun
opportunity for you and your family to do a little “interdisciplinary study” on your adopted cardinal. Here are a few ideas:
- Print off a national or world map to pinpoint your cardinal’s geographical location.
- If possible, learn about your cardinal’s childhood. Little ones love learning what important historical figures were like at their age.
- Find and read any of his publications to learn a little more about the things of most importance to him.
- Discover his country’s particular challenges/concerns.
- Learn some basic phrases in his native tongue.
- Find out what role his country plays in world and Church history.
- Dedicate a dinner to celebrating and exploring the country’s or region’s cuisine.
- Print off and pray “Come Holy Spirit, Creator Blest” together during your family prayer time:
-
Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest,
and in our souls take up Thy rest;
come with Thy grace and heavenly aid
to fill the hearts which Thou hast made.
O comforter, to Thee we cry,
O heavenly gift of God Most High,
O fount of life and fire of love,
and sweet anointing from above.
Thou in Thy sevenfold gifts are known;
Thou, finger of God’s hand we own;
Thou, promise of the Father, Thou
Who dost the tongue with power imbue.
Kindle our sense from above,
and make our hearts o’erflow with love;
with patience firm and virtue high
the weakness of our flesh supply.
Far from us drive the foe we dread,
and grant us Thy peace instead;
so shall we not, with Thee for guide,
turn from the path of life aside.
Oh, may Thy grace on us bestow
the Father and the Son to know;
and Thee, through endless times confessed,
of both the eternal Spirit blest.
Now to the Father and the Son,
Who rose from death, be glory given,
with Thou, O Holy Comforter,
henceforth by all in earth and heaven. Amen.
Have you and your family adopted a cardinal? What special things are you doing to bring this practice to life for your family? Do you have any ideas to add to my list? Please share them!
If you haven’t adopted a cardinal yet, consider adopting one today at adoptacardinal.org!
In addition to adopting a cardinal, please read Lisa Hendey’s article, “6 Cool Tools to Teach Your Children About the Conclave” to find more fun ways to learn about the conclave as a family.
![I Love My "Papa"]()
by Catherine | Feb 16, 2013 | Faith
Philip and I met on Holy Saturday, March 26, 2005. We were sophomores in college at the University of Nebraska — Lincoln. When I returned to the sorority house after our first date, I told my friend Kristin, “I’m going to marry that guy!”
Exactly one week later, on Saturday, April 2, 2005, I was studying at the sorority house between doing loads of laundry. That afternoon, I heard the news that Pope John Paul II, the only pope I had never known, had died. While I was changing loads of laundry, Philip called and left a message on my sorority room answering machine. (I didn’t have a cell phone at the time.) Philip and I had made plans to go out to dinner that evening, but he had a slight change of plans.
“Hey, Catherine. It’s Philip. I just wanted to call to let you know that I’m going to be a little late picking you up for dinner tonight. I haven’t had a chance to stop by the Newman Center (our university’s Catholic Church) to say a prayer for the Holy Father, and I want to do that before I come to get you. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, so give me a call if you want to go together. Otherwise, I’ll come by A-Phi to get you at 6:30.”
Wow! Not only did this guy that I had only known for a week care enough about his faith and the future of the Church to stop by the chapel on a Saturday night to say a prayer for the Holy Father, but he was not at all self-conscious or nervous to let me know that: (1) doing so was a higher priority than our date, (2) he was going to be late because of it, and (3) I was welcome to join him if I wanted. I was impressed, and, if I’m being honest, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t even thought to stop in at the Newman Center to say a prayer of my own. This Philip guy had a lot to teach me.
I called Philip to let him know that I would love to join him in prayer at the Newman Center, and we walked to the church together before our dinner date.
 |
| St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church on the University of Nebraska — Lincoln’s Campus |
The Newman Center was dark. Only the light above the altar, fixed on our crucified Lord, and the last minutes of sunlight through the stained glass illuminated the church. Silently, we entered the church and crossed ourselves with holy water. Philip led us to the front of the church and stepped aside to let me genuflect and enter the pew ahead of him. He put the kneeler down for both of us, and we spent I don’t know how much time kneeling and praying alone in the dark. 5, 10, 15 minutes?
That previous year, I thought God might be putting it on my heart to be a religious sister. I went on a retreat to further discern my vocation, and I went to a very holy Notre Dame sister to express my sorrow at the possibility of never marrying or having children. I’ll never forget her wise and loving response. “Honey, God doesn’t want you to be miserable! If you’re sobbing over the thought of never having children or sharing your life with a husband, then God probably isn’t calling you to become a religious sister.” Nonetheless, I still wondered… I didn’t yet understand that I could serve God with my whole heart and soul AND be a wife and mother. I didn’t understand that marriage was the best possible thing I could do for my soul and that it was the best way I could glorify Him.
I remember sitting in that dark church, praying next to Philip, and feeling very at peace that God was calling me to marriage–and very possibly to the man kneeling next to me. That deep peace filled me with happiness, and my eyes overflowed with tears. I tried to wipe away the tears as discreetly as possible. Fortunately, Philip was being so prayerful that I don’t think he noticed. I prayed for the soul of Pope John Paul II, the man I came to identify with as my sweet, loving grandfather in faith. I prayed for the Church and for the future Holy Father. I asked the Holy Spirit to guide the Church through the time of transition and to help all of the Church faithful to trust in the Holy Spirit’s guidance. Before ending my prayers, I couldn’t help but include a little selfish prayer for myself. I asked the Holy Spirit to help me to discern my vocation and to let me know if Philip was supposed to be my husband.
Silently, Philip and I ended our prayers, put up the kneeler, genuflected on our way out of the pew, and crossed ourselves with holy water as we exited the church. It wasn’t until we were outside that I realized we hadn’t said a word to each other since entering church. The prayerful silence was comfortable and came very naturally. Of course, the silence should have come naturally because we were in a church, but there was no tension. Only peace.
The rest of our date was full of great conversation and a lot of laughter. One week later, on April 9, 2005, we decided to start dating exclusively and gained the titles of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend.” In the next few years, we grew in our faith and closer to each other. After two years of dating, Philip proposed marriage, I said “yes,” and we started planning our life together. (I’ll tell the proposal story another time. Philip outdid himself!)
One of the first things we planned together was our honeymoon in Rome. We decided if we could swing it financially, we wanted to start our marriage in the Eternal City with a papal blessing. We thought it was only fitting that we start our marriage with a blessing from Pope Benedict XVI, the man who started leading the Church as we started our relationship.&nbs
p; With our airfare taken care of by Philip’s parents’ air miles, we were able to make it work! Hooray!
We made our way to Rome with our marriage certificate, the crucifix we received and had blessed during our nuptial Mass (for the Holy Father to bless), Philip’s suit, and a white dress I bought just for the blessing. (Newlyweds receiving the papal blessing are instructed to wear their wedding attire, but Philip’s rental tux and my heirloom wedding gown weren’t going to make the trans-Atlantic flight!) Newlyweds from around the world come to the pope’s weekly Wednesday audience to receive the papal blessing.
 |
| In front of St. Peter’s after receiving the papal blessing |
The universality of the Catholic Church sank in as we sat in St. Peter’s Square, surrounded by other newlyweds that spoke different languages.
 |
| Another newlywed couple posed for a shot in the background. I still don’t know what country they were from because I didn’t recognize the language they spoke! |
As we looked out into the square, we saw various countries’ flags from around the world and heard the crowds chanting special songs to Pope Benedict in their native tongues. Simultaneously, we remembered just how small the world can be when our college friends coincidentally sat right next to us for the newlywed papal blessing!
Until I was ten feet away from the Holy Father, I hadn’t considered how grueling the Petrine office must be on a daily basis. That, combined with the emotional weight of knowing that he stands at the helm of the barque for nearly a million souls, must be something. I thought it was “heavy” when I learned my ultimate goal as a wife and mother is to get myself, my husband, and any children we have to heaven. Imagine being given the charge of a billion souls!
 |
| Our view from our seats during the papal audience. We were so close to the Holy Father! |
Despite the weight of his office, Pope Benedict exuded a deep peace. It was beyond me how anyone could gaze upon his face, hear his words, and come away calling him “God’s Rottweiler.” I desperately wanted to hug “Papa Bene,” kiss his ring, and thank him for his sacrificial service in love of the Church. We weren’t able to get that close, but gazing upon his face and seeing his love for each person he met left an impression on me that I will never forget.
 |
| Getting so close we could see his face |
Pope John Paul II was the only pope Philip and I knew until our sophomore year of college. He taught us about love, family, and the beauty of the domestic church. He showed us the Genius of Women and prompted us to read the Catechism of the Catholic Church. We both embraced his Theology of the Body and clung to its truths as we anticipated married life. In countless ways, JPII laid the foundation for us to transition into adulthood as Catholics. When JPII died, I didn’t think I could love another pope like I loved him.
Instead of viewing Pope Benedict XVI as a benevolent grandfather figure as I had JPII, I came to know him as a stern but equally loving father. The secular media had big plans for his pontificate, but Pope Benedict XVI allowed the Holy Spirit rather than the world’s wants to set the agenda. He taught us about “Caritas in veritate” (Love or charity in truth). Surrounded by militant secularism and the “dictatorship of relativism” on a secular university campus put me in a variety of situations where I was told “truth is whatever is true for you” and that religion has no business in the public sphere. He taught me that truth may hurt (especially our pride!), but when we love, we take the risk of emptying ourselves to make room for Christ. He taught me how Christianity glorifies the rational mind and does not ignore it. I’ve often said that I would go to school for the rest of my life if I could. Pope Benedict taught me through his example as a professor and scholar that intellectual pursuits are fruitful only when they ta
ke a backseat to an intimate relationship with Christ.
Pope Benedict announced his resignation the morning of our daughter Jane’s 3rd birthday, and his last day in office will be Philip’s 28th birthday, February 28, 2013. I was sad but not surprised when I learned about Pope Benedict’s decision to resign. My sadness quickly changed to peaceful hope and trust when I remembered that the same man who came to this decision must be doing so with a heavy heart. If we’re going to be without a pope, it seems appropriate that it happen during the season of Lent. It’s a season of almsgiving, fasting, and prayer. After pondering his abilities with the needs of the Church, Pope Benedict discerned that the Holy Spirit was calling him to give up the Chair of St. Peter, and we must “give up” our “Papa Bene,” trusting that he would not renounce the Chair of St. Peter unless it was necessary.
In his book The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis addresses how a Christian can explain suffering if a loving God exists. When discussing our mortality, Lewis writes, “…finality must come some time, and it does not require a very robust faith to believe that Omniscience knows when.” Amen! God is the Giver of Life, and only He can allow that life to end through His permissive will. I never felt that truth more acutely than when we lost our baby, Thérèse. Similarly, the Holy Spirit guides the life of the Church, and it does not require the robust faith of Catholics to trust that Omniscience knows when to guide a pope toward resignation.
We will miss you dearly as “Papa Bene,” Joseph Ratzinger, but we know that you will continue to dedicate your earthly life to being God’s faithful servant. What more could we ask of you? We must trust that the Holy Spirit will continue to guide the Church. We must pray every day of Lent for you, for the upcoming papal conclave, and that God’s will be done in the selection of the next pope.
Thank you for being our stern but loving “Papa” and for guiding Philip and I as we built our lives together and approach our fifth wedding anniversary. I never thought I could love a pope as much as I loved JPII, but, as always, God outdid Himself in generosity when He gave us you. Now, I wonder if I could love a pope as much as I love you. Surely, God has something good in store if He is asking us to “give you up” this Lent. God bless you, “Papa!”
![I Love My “Papa”]()
by Catherine | Feb 16, 2013 | Faith
Philip and I met on Holy Saturday, March 26, 2005. We were sophomores in college at the University of Nebraska — Lincoln. When I returned to the sorority house after our first date, I told my friend Kristin, “I’m going to marry that guy!”
Exactly one week later, on Saturday, April 2, 2005, I was studying at the sorority house between doing loads of laundry. That afternoon, I heard the news that Pope John Paul II, the only pope I had never known, had died. While I was changing loads of laundry, Philip called and left a message on my sorority room answering machine. (I didn’t have a cell phone at the time.) Philip and I had made plans to go out to dinner that evening, but he had a slight change of plans.
“Hey, Catherine. It’s Philip. I just wanted to call to let you know that I’m going to be a little late picking you up for dinner tonight. I haven’t had a chance to stop by the Newman Center (our university’s Catholic Church) to say a prayer for the Holy Father, and I want to do that before I come to get you. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, so give me a call if you want to go together. Otherwise, I’ll come by A-Phi to get you at 6:30.”
Wow! Not only did this guy that I had only known for a week care enough about his faith and the future of the Church to stop by the chapel on a Saturday night to say a prayer for the Holy Father, but he was not at all self-conscious or nervous to let me know that: (1) doing so was a higher priority than our date, (2) he was going to be late because of it, and (3) I was welcome to join him if I wanted. I was impressed, and, if I’m being honest, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t even thought to stop in at the Newman Center to say a prayer of my own. This Philip guy had a lot to teach me.
I called Philip to let him know that I would love to join him in prayer at the Newman Center, and we walked to the church together before our dinner date.
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| St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church on the University of Nebraska — Lincoln’s Campus |
The Newman Center was dark. Only the light above the altar, fixed on our crucified Lord, and the last minutes of sunlight through the stained glass illuminated the church. Silently, we entered the church and crossed ourselves with holy water. Philip led us to the front of the church and stepped aside to let me genuflect and enter the pew ahead of him. He put the kneeler down for both of us, and we spent I don’t know how much time kneeling and praying alone in the dark. 5, 10, 15 minutes?
That previous year, I thought God might be putting it on my heart to be a religious sister. I went on a retreat to further discern my vocation, and I went to a very holy Notre Dame sister to express my sorrow at the possibility of never marrying or having children. I’ll never forget her wise and loving response. “Honey, God doesn’t want you to be miserable! If you’re sobbing over the thought of never having children or sharing your life with a husband, then God probably isn’t calling you to become a religious sister.” Nonetheless, I still wondered… I didn’t yet understand that I could serve God with my whole heart and soul AND be a wife and mother. I didn’t understand that marriage was the best possible thing I could do for my soul and that it was the best way I could glorify Him.
I remember sitting in that dark church, praying next to Philip, and feeling very at peace that God was calling me to marriage–and very possibly to the man kneeling next to me. That deep peace filled me with happiness, and my eyes overflowed with tears. I tried to wipe away the tears as discreetly as possible. Fortunately, Philip was being so prayerful that I don’t think he noticed. I prayed for the soul of Pope John Paul II, the man I came to identify with as my sweet, loving grandfather in faith. I prayed for the Church and for the future Holy Father. I asked the Holy Spirit to guide the Church through the time of transition and to help all of the Church faithful to trust in the Holy Spirit’s guidance. Before ending my prayers, I couldn’t help but include a little selfish prayer for myself. I asked the Holy Spirit to help me to discern my vocation and to let me know if Philip was supposed to be my husband.
Silently, Philip and I ended our prayers, put up the kneeler, genuflected on our way out of the pew, and crossed ourselves with holy water as we exited the church. It wasn’t until we were outside that I realized we hadn’t said a word to each other since entering church. The prayerful silence was comfortable and came very naturally. Of course, the silence should have come naturally because we were in a church, but there was no tension. Only peace.
The rest of our date was full of great conversation and a lot of laughter. One week later, on April 9, 2005, we decided to start dating exclusively and gained the titles of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend.” In the next few years, we grew in our faith and closer to each other. After two years of dating, Philip proposed marriage, I said “yes,” and we started planning our life together. (I’ll tell the proposal story another time. Philip outdid himself!)
One of the first things we planned together was our honeymoon in Rome. We decided if we could swing it financially, we wanted to start our marriage in the Eternal City with a papal blessing. We thought it was only fitting that we start our marriage with a blessing from Pope Benedict XVI, the man who started leading the Church as we started our relationship. With our airfare taken care of by Philip’s parents’ air miles, we were able to make it work! Hooray!
We made our way to Rome with our marriage certificate, the crucifix we received and had blessed during our nuptial Mass (for the Holy Father to bless), Philip’s suit, and a white dress I bought just for the blessing. (Newlyweds receiving the papal blessing are instructed to wear their wedding attire, but Philip’s rental tux and my heirloom wedding gown weren’t going to make the trans-Atlantic flight!) Newlyweds from around the world come to the pope’s weekly Wednesday audience to receive the papal blessing.
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| In front of St. Peter’s after receiving the papal blessing |
The universality of the Catholic Church sank in as we sat in St. Peter’s Square, surrounded by other newlyweds that spoke different languages.
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| Another newlywed couple posed for a shot in the background. I still don’t know what country they were from because I didn’t recognize the language they spoke! |
As we looked out into the square, we saw various countries’ flags from around the world and heard the crowds chanting special songs to Pope Benedict in their native tongues. Simultaneously, we remembered just how small the world can be when our college friends coincidentally sat right next to us for the newlywed papal blessing!
Until I was ten feet away from the Holy Father, I hadn’t considered how grueling the Petrine office must be on a daily basis. That, combined with the emotional weight of knowing that he stands at the helm of the barque for nearly a million souls, must be something. I thought it was “heavy” when I learned my ultimate goal as a wife and mother is to get myself, my husband, and any children we have to heaven. Imagine being given the charge of a billion souls!
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| Our view from our seats during the papal audience. We were so close to the Holy Father! |
Despite the weight of his office, Pope Benedict exuded a deep peace. It was beyond me how anyone could gaze upon his face, hear his words, and come away calling him “God’s Rottweiler.” I desperately wanted to hug “Papa Bene,” kiss his ring, and thank him for his sacrificial service in love of the Church. We weren’t able to get that close, but gazing upon his face and seeing his love for each person he met left an impression on me that I will never forget.
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| Getting so close we could see his face |
Pope John Paul II was the only pope Philip and I knew until our sophomore year of college. He taught us about love, family, and the beauty of the domestic church. He showed us the Genius of Women and prompted us to read the Catechism of the Catholic Church. We both embraced his Theology of the Body and clung to its truths as we anticipated married life. In countless ways, JPII laid the foundation for us to transition into adulthood as Catholics. When JPII died, I didn’t think I could love another pope like I loved him.
Instead of viewing Pope Benedict XVI as a benevolent grandfather figure as I had JPII, I came to know him as a stern but equally loving father. The secular media had big plans for his pontificate, but Pope Benedict XVI allowed the Holy Spirit rather than the world’s wants to set the agenda. He taught us about “Caritas in veritate” (Love or charity in truth). Surrounded by militant secularism and the “dictatorship of relativism” on a secular university campus put me in a variety of situations where I was told “truth is whatever is true for you” and that religion has no business in the public sphere. He taught me that truth may hurt (especially our pride!), but when we love, we take the risk of emptying ourselves to make room for Christ. He taught me how Christianity glorifies the rational mind and does not ignore it. I’ve often said that I would go to school for the rest of my life if I could. Pope Benedict taught me through his example as a professor and scholar that intellectual pursuits are fruitful only when they take a backseat to an intimate relationship with Christ.
Pope Benedict announced his resignation the morning of our daughter Jane’s 3rd birthday, and his last day in office will be Philip’s 28th birthday, February 28, 2013. I was sad but not surprised when I learned about Pope Benedict’s decision to resign. My sadness quickly changed to peaceful hope and trust when I remembered that the same man who came to this decision must be doing so with a heavy heart. If we’re going to be without a pope, it seems appropriate that it happen during the season of Lent. It’s a season of almsgiving, fasting, and prayer. After pondering his abilities with the needs of the Church, Pope Benedict discerned that the Holy Spirit was calling him to give up the Chair of St. Peter, and we must “give up” our “Papa Bene,” trusting that he would not renounce the Chair of St. Peter unless it was necessary.
In his book The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis addresses how a Christian can explain suffering if a loving God exists. When discussing our mortality, Lewis writes, “…finality must come some time, and it does not require a very robust faith to believe that Omniscience knows when.” Amen! God is the Giver of Life, and only He can allow that life to end through His permissive will. I never felt that truth more acutely than when we lost our baby, Thérèse. Similarly, the Holy Spirit guides the life of the Church, and it does not require the robust faith of Catholics to trust that Omniscience knows when to guide a pope toward resignation.
We will miss you dearly as “Papa Bene,” Joseph Ratzinger, but we know that you will continue to dedicate your earthly life to being God’s faithful servant. What more could we ask of you? We must trust that the Holy Spirit will continue to guide the Church. We must pray every day of Lent for you, for the upcoming papal conclave, and that God’s will be done in the selection of the next pope.
Thank you for being our stern but loving “Papa” and for guiding Philip and I as we built our lives together and approach our fifth wedding anniversary. I never thought I could love a pope as much as I loved JPII, but, as always, God outdid Himself in generosity when He gave us you. Now, I wonder if I could love a pope as much as I love you. Surely, God has something good in store if He is asking us to “give you up” this Lent. God bless you, “Papa!”
![The Roller Coaster Ride]()
by Catherine | Feb 6, 2013 | Faith, Family, Marriage
Losing our baby Thérèse changed me. Some of the ways are obvious, and others sneak up on me and take my breath away. Although it was the most painful experience I have ever gone through (and am still going through), I can’t thank God enough for giving our family that precious, little, innocent saint. I think about her a lot, and I pray to her throughout the day as I wash dishes, play with the kids, or do the countless mundane tasks that make up my days.
Sometimes, I’ll get a little reminder that if things had gone differently, she would still be with me. In my tummy. Kicking. We would be anxiously awaiting her arrival on her due date, May 20, 2013. For whatever reason, it wasn’t part of the plan–His plan. I still don’t understand the plan or even pretend to wrap my mind around it. Instead, I’m learning to stop planning, controlling, and allow God to take my roller coaster ride up and down and up and down. For this Type A Martha girl, that is no easy task! Good Father that He is, God knew I needed to learn to let Him take the reigns.
On November 2, All Souls Day, we learned on ultrasound that our precious baby was dead. I started to miscarry at home the evening of November 4. As things progressed and my blood loss became dangerous, I ended up having an emergency D&C in the wee hours of the morning on November 5. The next weeks consisted of regaining my strength, getting a blood transfusion, squeezing the stuffing out of Jane and Walt, and busily preparing for hosting Thanksgiving. I was grateful for the distraction of a major holiday!
A week before Thanksgiving at my two-week follow-up appointment after my D&C, my OB said that my exam was normal and that I was healthy. He gave us the all-clear to resume marital activities, but he recommended waiting three months before trying to conceive again. The thought of waiting three months was agony, but wait we must. He said to anticipate my cycle returning 4-6 weeks after my D&C. We decided not to start charting again until that time came.
A few nights after my follow-up OB appointment and before my cycle returned, Philip and I cried our eyes out after the kids went to bed. We talked about missing Thérèse, how much we loved Jane and Walt, and how much we desperately wanted to have another baby. We held each other and said we were ready for another baby whenever God would send us that blessing. That night, we decided we to open ourselves to the possibility of a new baby, as unlikely as that would be. After that night, we said we would follow my doctor’s instructions to avoid a pregnancy for three months.
Thanksgiving came and went. We made plans to gather our family to pray the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary for Thérèse on December 9. The week of the Rosary, something wasn’t right. I was moody and weepier than I had been, my breasts were leaking colostrum, and I had some abdominal cramping. Noooooooooooo, I thought. This must be from the miscarriage. My body must be hanging on to the hormones, and it must take awhile for all of the pregnancy symptoms to subside. Still…
December 4, exactly one month to the day after I started to miscarry Thérèse, I told Philip that it was crazy, but that I thought I might be pregnant. We decided to take a pregnancy test to confirm that we weren’t. Before I took it, we discussed the possibility that a positive did not necessarily indicate pregnancy, but that the residual hormones from my previous pregnancy with Thérèse could create a false positive. With this in mind, I went to take the test. Instantly, the test was positive. I had to take a picture so that I would still believe the results long after the test faded.
“Oh, God,” I prayed, “Please guard my heart and give me the strength to accept whatever this means.” Just like any other time I took a pregnancy test, I brought it out to show Philip. We cried our happy tears, and we instantly told each other not to get our hopes up. It was well after office hours, so I waited to call my OB until the next morning.
First thing in the morning, I called my OB’s office, and I asked to speak with my OB’s amazing nurse. I’ll never forget her for hugging me in the ultrasound room when we found out that Thérèse had died and for helping me through the whole process. Let’s call the sweet nurse Allison.
“Allison,” I said, “I took a pregnancy test, and it was positive.”
In her usual calm manner, she said, “Oh…well…did you have unprotected sex?”
I felt like a promiscuous teenager answering that question. “Yes…but only once!” I said.
“Well,” she laughed, “that’s all it takes!”
As I expected, she was careful with her words from there. She instructed me to come in for a blood draw to check my HCG levels. “Then, you’ll come back 48 hours later. If the levels have at least doubled, that indicates that you are pregnant. If the levels don’t increase that much, it indicates that you may have some retaining fetal tissue, or you may just have some residual hormones.”
I couldn’t wait, so I went in to the lab that afternoon, December 5, before the kids’ naptime to get a blood draw. The results came back hours later, and I got a phone call from Allison.
“Your HCG level is ___.” I can’t remember what the number was. I said, “Ok, so translate for me. What are we working with?” In typical Allison fashion, she said, “Well, it’s elevated. So, it’s hard to say for sure at this point. We’ll have to wait until your 48-hour blood draw to know for sure. It’s definitely in the range for a positive pregnancy test, but we won’t know for sure until after your second blood draw.”
So, I went in for my second blood draw on December 7. It was a Friday, and I was so nervous that I wasn’t going to get the results before the weekend! Right before 5, Allison called.
“Catherine? It’s Allison. I have the results of your blood test. Your HCG level is ____.”
The number was much, much higher than the first test. It had more than tripled!
“So, what does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I think you’re pregnant. Congratulations!”
“Really?! Really?! Oh my goodness. I can’t believe it!” Of course, I was trying to keep myself composed over the phone, but I was sobbing at this point.
Allison told me to make an appointment for an ultrasound at 5 weeks to confirm the pregnancy. I thanked her, she congratulated me again, and I hung up the phone.
Then, the weight of it all sunk in.
I’m pregnant.
I got pregnant two weeks after we lost Thérèse.
We are having a Rosary for Thérèse in two days.
It was a bizarre time emotionally. We wrestled with sharing the news with our families at the Rosary, but we decided to wait until we could see a heartbeat on ultrasound and confirm that everything was okay. So, we had a beautiful day celebrating our baby Thérèse in prayer. The day was even sweeter knowing that I could ask for Thérèse’s intercession for her baby brother or sister. “Please,” I prayed. “Please, I don’t know if I can take losing another baby right now. Please let us keep this baby.”
The days c…r…a…w…l…e…d by until my ultrasound. The day finally came, but I ended up having to reschedule because of a snowstorm. By the time I had the ultrasound, I was nearly 6 weeks along according to our estimates.
I confided in a friend what was going on, and she offered to watch the kids so that Philip and I could go to the appointment by ourselves. We didn’t think we could endure hearing that we had lost another baby with them in the room.
The same ultrasound tech that told us Thérèse had died was performing this ultrasound. I told her I was nervous and that I wanted to know exactly what I should anticipate seeing on the screen before we began. “We think you’re only 5 weeks and 6 days, so it’s probably too early to see a heartbeat, and the baby will be very, very tiny.” I prayed to the Blessed Mother to give me the strength I needed to endure whatever she told us. Before scanning my uterus, she examined my ovaries and looked over everything else to make sure it was as it should be. My right ovary showed signs that it had recently ovulated. Good! Oh, the waiting was agony. When the image of my uterus came into view, we instantly saw a tiny, tiny baby. Then, I noticed the fluttering. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” said the ultrasound tech.
Philip squeezed my shoulders.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. It was difficult to see the screen.
The baby’s heartbeat!
We had never even seen Thérèse’s heartbeat!
This baby has a heartbeat!
The baby is okay!
I’m really pregnant!
The ultrasound tech took some measurements and took the baby’s heart rate. The baby measured just 3mm and had a heartbeat! Amazing! The baby measured right on target with the dates we provided my OB. Without an LMP (last menstrual period) to date the pregnancy, my OB had to rely on the information that we were only together once two weeks after my D&C. If I ovulated two weeks after my D&C, that would coincide with the date we gave him. The ultrasound confirmed what we thought was impossible–we got pregnant with this baby two weeks after we lost Thérèse.
After seeing the heartbeat on ultrasound, we decided we would announce the news to our families at Christmastime. After the ultrasound, Philip and I went to get a bite to eat in the hospital cafeteria. I’ll never forget the date of the ultrasound (Friday, December 14) because I watched the news about the Newtown, Connecticut shooting come on the cafeteria tv as I waited for Philip to pick up our order.) We were numb from the news. We couldn’t believe we were really pregnant, that we saw a heartbeat, and that all signs pointed to everything being okay.
I popped into the restroom on our way to the car. Then, the unthinkable happened. There was blood. I told Philip I thought it was probably from the ultrasound and that I’d call my OB if it got worse. It got worse as the day went on, but it eventually went away. A few days later, I had another bleeding episode. This time, I thought for sure that the baby was gone. I called my OB, and they had me come in
on December 21 for another ultrasound to check on the baby. Despite the bleeding, all was well. The first bleeding episode was likely from the ultrasound and a little implantation bleeding. We’re still not sure what caused the second bleeding episode, but it was short-lived and considered normal first trimester bleeding. Ugh! I thought I was losing the baby every time I saw blood. I thought I was re-living losing Thérèse.
With the good news that all was well with Baby, we told our families around Christmas that we were pregnant. They were as surprised as we were, but they congratulated us and assured us of their prayers for this baby.
I had another appointment January 10, and Baby looked great on ultrasound. After that appointment, I started to absorb that I was really pregnant. I was cautiously optimistic, but I wasn’t ready to share the news with the world yet.
I didn’t have another appointment until January 31. I was nearly at the 12-week mark, so it was supposed to be a quick appointment with a check of my vitals and a quick listen to Baby’s heartbeat on the doppler.
Days before that ultrasound, my good friend (the same friend who watched the kids for the first ultrasound) met me for dessert. She asked me how I was doing and mentioned Thérèse. Instantly, I burst into tears. I realized I hadn’t even asked myself how I was doing in a long time and that I was so preoccupied with this pregnancy that I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve, process, or do much beyond get through the long days with “morning” sickness, Philip’s rotten schedule that month, or worry about the unknowns with this pregnancy.
After I got home from my dessert date with my friend, Philip and I had a great talk on the couch and checked in with one another emotionally for the first time in probably a month. That’s how it is with good friends–they prompt you to make your marriage better. Philip and I had been so consumed with the holidays and just being in survival mode that we had put the grieving process on hold. Thank goodness for good friends that help put us back on track!
Philip and I held hands on the couch and cried as we talked about missing Thérèse, worrying about this baby, and being tired of residency’s crazy hours. I confided in Philip that I was convinced there was something wrong with the baby and that I was ready for the worst at my ultrasound. He said he understood why I was worried, but he reminded me of all of the positive signs we had from previous appointments that pointed to things being okay.
When the ultrasound rolled around a few days later, Philip was able to come at the last minute because of some very sweet attending doctors on his rotation. God bless them! Thank goodness he came because it was a stressful appointment. My vitals all looked good. When it came time to listen to Baby’s heartbeat on the doppler, the appointment got scary. I prayed the entire time my OB scanned my belly with the doppler. After searching for two minutes, my OB couldn’t find a heartbeat. Very calmly, he said, “Let’s go across the hall and take a peek on the ultrasound.” Those were his exact words at my 12-week appointment with Thérèse before we saw that she had died. I told myself that the baby was gone.
We settled in to the ultrasound room, and the image on the screen came into view. Instantly, we saw a perfectly formed little baby with a fluttering heart. In fact, he or she kicked off of my uterine wall throughout the exam and made it very difficult for my OB to take any measurements. Baby’s heart rate was right on target (161), and Baby measured 11 weeks and 5 days–exactly how far along I was that day! I told my OB how nervous he made me when he couldn’t find the heart rate. He assured me that my chances of miscarrying after that appointment were very, very low, and that Baby looked great. He said to feel good about things, and I finally believed him.
After receiving confirmation that Baby was okay and that everything looked great, we decided to share the news with the rest of our friends and extended family. We posted this picture of Walt getting an “Eviction Notice” from the nursery on Facebook. He was ready for his morning nap, and we took his pacifier away, so it was easy to capture a sad pout from him.
Since November, I’ve felt that my life has been in a holding pattern. Not a day goes by that I don’t fear losing Baby, but I’m finally allowing myself to make an emotional connection. I’m finally finding myself thinking about Baby as a part of this family and imagining him or her with us in August.
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| 12-week belly shot |
God is teaching me each day to relinquish control, live in the present, and trust. I’m learning to trust that He will guide the roller coaster ride I’m on through all of the scary twists and turns to a safe return home. Some days, I’m white-knuckled and feel as though I’m going to be sick (some days literally!). Other days, I allow myself to enjoy the rush as I anticipate the next curve. Losing Thérèse taught me that our lives are completely out of my hands. God will give. God will take. God will be there to love me through it all. I need only entrust myself and our family to Him. The trouble is, I forget this reality and fall into the trap of thinking our lives are in my control. Usually, God swiftly returns me to my knees where I belong when that happens.
I am so grateful for the gift of my Catholic Faith throughout these last several months. Without the belief that our baby Thérèse is a saint in heaven
that can intercede on behalf of our family, enduring losing her and thinking that we were losing this baby would be unbearable. I can’t help but think that without Thérèse dying, we would never have the precious baby growing inside of me. It is bittersweet to think that this baby is due three months after Thérèse would have been born. My greatest hope as a parent is to get our family to heaven. Thinking that we already have one member there is all the incentive we need to keep working toward that goal.
I’m reading Kimberly Hahn’s book Beloved and Blessed. She recounts a conversation with her son, Joseph, when he realized his mom miscarried two babies before him.
“How soon did the baby die before you conceived me?”
“Joseph, I miscarried just weeks before we conceived you.”
“So if that baby had not died, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
“No, Joseph.”
Joseph thought for a moment, and he shared this profound thought: “Mom, I’m sorry the other baby died, but this way you get to have us both!”
I love everything about that passage! How lucky am I that I get to have BOTH my saint Thérèse in heaven AND this precious baby growing inside of me?! Amazing!
So, I’m getting on with the business of remembering that we are blessed and that God want us to be happy. Sure, I’ll continue to grieve and cry for the baby I never held, but I’m not a bad mother for being happy or even for forgetting about Thérèse from time to time. After all, God’s taking care of her. She’s in far better hands with Him anyway!
Meanwhile, the precious babies we already have are helping me to remember just how blessed we are. The day after my ultrasound, Jane was looking at my belly as I got dressed.
Me: Did we get to see Baby yesterday on the tv?
Jane: Yes.
Me: Wasn’t the baby so cute?!
Jane: No, Mama. The baby isn’t cute.
I was momentarily saddened by Janie’s response. Of course the baby was cute! Perhaps this was just a little sibling jealousy coming out.
Jane: Babies aren’t cute; they’re perfect. Pets are cute, Mama. Babies are perfect.
Out of the mouths of babes! She’s right, you know. What a supreme blessing and honor that humans are made in the image and likeness of God. Regardless of what lies ahead with this pregnancy (or any pregnancy), the babies are perfect because they are made exactly as God intended–with an immortal soul that He hopes will be returned to Him. If we get to keep this baby, Thérèse taught me the time will only be “on loan,” and that it is my job to return all of my babies to their Father. I know she will help me to do just that.
I hope I make you proud, Thérèse! I miss you everyday. Please pray for us.
