Catholic Life Ministries

By Lori Fontana

What a day! In just one day, I feel like I encountered the breadth of humanity: young and old, rich and poor, people of all colors and in so many life circumstances. Let me describe.

The day began with seeing our two grandsons off to school. They are bright, curious boys with long, scruffy hair and skinned knees from soccer games and wrestling with each other in the yard. They are loving and sassy, at times cooperative. at other times, sullen and belligerent. Their lives stretch before them, filled with possibilities.

I then headed to the nursing home where my mom lives. She’s 94 and only recently has needed more care. Six months ago, she spent her days playing Scrabble or Bingo, visiting with other residents, attending prayer in the chapel, and even doing her own laundry. Now, she is pretty much confined to her wheelchair, as her legs have now decided they can’t reliably support her. Though physically declining, she is still gracious and caring to others. As we ate lunch with some other residents, she paused between bites to comment to her neighbor, “You look so nice in that red blouse,” and “Try those mashed potatoes; they’re delicious today.”

The other residents at her table were not as aware as she is; some don’t speak at all. But my mom spoke to them with gentleness and kindness. She honored them by greeting them, even when they were unable to respond.

During the meal, I noticed the nursing home staff: the busy nurses who distributed medications and charted medical notes; the aides who cheerfully visited with residents, answering questions, handing someone a drink of water, or helping some residents eat their meal. There were the housekeeping staff members – sweeping, mopping, preparing plates of food, washing dishes. Almost to a person, these were people from the four corners of the earth: Eritrea, Somalia, China, the Philippines, Mexico. They worked with a quiet dignity, showing loving respect to all the residents as well as to each other. Even when a resident was sad or agitated, the atmosphere remained peaceful and caring.

After lunch, I wheeled my mom to the first floor where there is a preschool and nursery. From the hallway, we could look into the “toddler room” through floor-to-ceiling windows. We saw little cherubs of all shapes and colors playing dress-up, cuddling with stuffed animals, painting, climbing, twirling, and at times bumping into each other or grabbing a toy. It was messy and joyful with runny noses and squeals and tears. What energy and zest! These young ones brought smiles to my mom and me, as they do to all who behold them.

From my lovely visit with my mom, I caught a city bus home. The bus riders were people of all colors and dress. There was a lovely African American woman  seated next to me, looking tired but serene, reading a book, perhaps returning home after a day’s work.

Ahead, at the front of the bus, sat a young couple. Their clothing was disheveled; their hair appeared unwashed and uncombed. They carried large bundles and bags and a bulky box of Pampers. While the young man gazed out the window, the young woman leaned forward, seemingly exhausted and trying to sleep. The bus jostled her back and forth, and I worried that she would tumble into the aisle. But she didn’t. I could imagine that the couple was taking respite on the bus, warming themselves and enjoying a few moments of peace.

Behind me was a middle-aged man who, halfway through the bus ride downtown, began to talk loudly as if having a conversation with someone. Gesturing with his hands and shaking his head, he rummaged through a plastic bag on the floor in front of his seat. His loud behavior indicated some mental suffering or illness.

My initial reaction was fear and anxiety. But then my thoughts turned to an awesome truth. This man is a child of God. Yes, he appears to be suffering or perhaps not quite in his right mind. He needs care, far more than I could give. But he is a child of God.

So too the young couple, trying to get a few moments of peace surrounded by their worldly belongings on a bus – they, too, are  children of God. As I thought back over my entire day: my bus companions, exuberant toddlers, the tired elderly folks, my mom, our grandchildren … each is a child of God, God’s beloved.

Life has a way of wearing us down, clouding our true nature. After just a short time of living, we’re not as bright and shiny, carefree and joy-filled as those little two-year-olds. We suffer, we doubt, we fall, we fail, and in the end, we know we will die.

But God wants more for us. God does love each one of us with an unconditional, everlasting love. When I embrace my deepest identity as God’s beloved, then it’s so much easier to open my heart to all my sisters and brothers. I can look beneath life’s tarnish and see that here in the nursing home, here on the bus, here in the nursery, here in my own home, each person is a child of God.

How does that truth make a difference? It means I look upon each person I meet with reverence. I can smile and say hello. In some cases, I’m able to help with a listening ear or directions. In other situations, it may not be wise to approach or speak to the person, but I can look with kindness upon them and say a prayer that they receive the help they need.

One more little story: as I waited at the bus stop that day, a middle-aged woman asked me for money. I replied that I didn’t have cash, but would she like to share my fig cookies? She declined and started to walk away, but then turned back, and we had a short friendly conversation. Rather than drawing back in fear, I had reached out with a humble offer, and we shared a holy moment.

It’s a good reminder: all of us begin life as innocent, pure babies. Then life happens, and we become a bit scuffed and scraped, enduring challenges and disappointments. We are all wounded. But can I rise to the call of our faith? Can I see into the heart of each person and know them as God’s beloved?

By Lori Fontana

The Feast of All Saints (the feast day for ALL of us) and the Feast of All Souls—remembering our loved ones who have gone before us. Two great feast days of our church which provide the occasion to grieve and remember, to celebrate and honor. Every November, we set up an “All Saints / All Souls” altar in our home.

We gather photos of our family members and friends who have died, both recently and long ago. We display the photos on a tabletop with a nice cloth covering, candles, flowers, and other momentos which remind us of our loved ones. Through our faith, we believe that loved ones who have died are still close to us, in the communion of saints. Our November altar brings them near, reminds us to pray for them, prompts us to honor them, helps us to grieve and let go. Perhaps you can create your own home altar for this prayerful month.

HOPE IN THE RESURRECTION

Wisdom 3:1-6 The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace. For if to others, indeed, they seem punished yet is their hope full of immortality; Chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of himself.

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose, so too will God, through Jesus, bring with him those who have  fallen asleep. Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord,^* will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself, with a word of command, with the voice of an  archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together^* with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore, console one another with these words.

By Lori Fontana

We don’t think it’s gonna happen to us. Mostly, I think we try to not think of IT at all. Aging. Dying. But it’s happening to each one of us. Right now. With every breath, every step, we’re growing older; we’re closer to our death.

This has become a daily reflection for me over the past year, even more so in the past few months. In 2023 – 2024, a dozen of our friends, people very close to us in our life circle, have died. Some had lived long fruitful lives. Others died too soon. Death came from illness or accidents; a few died from old age.

Very recently, a family member’s health has declined rapidly, and I’ve helped to care for her. It’s a beautiful task,  humbling…and hard! From being quite independent 6 months ago, she now pretty much needs constant care – physical help for daily activities and compassionate reassurance throughout the day.

For several days, I tried to manage her care in my home and very quickly realized that I don’t have the strength, skills, or adequately safe environment for that. But her time with us in our home was so precious. We shared laughter,  memories, family stories. We put our heads together to do the newspaper’s daily “Word Jumble.” We watched awe-inspiring and silly animal videos on YouTube – baby seals and brightly colored birds doing their mating dances. We went for short walks, I pushing her wheelchair, to see the fall colors and the rainbow of dahlias still in bloom.

Sometimes there was confusion: “Where am I?” “Why don’t my legs work anymore?” “Why am I so sleepy?” And, “God, why am I still here, on earth?”

These are questions we may all have as we age, if and when we stop to reflect on the reality that we will all die. This is a hard truth, but it’s not bad. It’s the circle of life, and it’s part of God’s plan which leads us to eternal life. Oh, we can choose to face death with fear and resistance or even complete denial. OR we can live our lives and face our death with thanksgiving and perseverance. As my loved one pointed out one morning, “We Christians don’t choose how we’re going to die… but we can choose how we will live each day.” And she so graciously does choose kindness and love each day and shares this with others.

For me, it boils down to two actions of the will – gratitude and trust. What can I thank God for today? Large blessings – I live in a safe, prosperous country (with problems, yes, but a good place overall); I have an abundance and variety of good food; I have a warm bed at night; I have loving family and friends. The list is long. And then there are small graces – morning coffee with cream; the hummingbird outside my window; the  laughter of grandchildren; a good-night kiss from my beloved.

There now is science that proves that a grateful heart contributes to overall happiness and well-being, and even longer life! It’s not hard to foster the habit of   gratitude. Try making a “Gratitude List,” and add to it every day. Or give thanks to God each evening before you sleep – tell God what you are grateful for from the day just lived.

The other habit I’m working at is TRUST. I think it’s a matter of asking, “Do I believe in God or not?” God promises to be always with us (Joshua 1:9); to supply our needs (Philippians 4:19); to give us good gifts (Luke 11: 9-13) and the desires of our hearts (Psalm 37:3-4); to bring good from our trials (Romans 8:28); to not try us beyond our abilities (1 Cor 10:13). Can we act out of these promises, through times both good and difficult?

Where are we headed? What is our future? I think these are worthy reflections for us at any age. If we’re realistic and honest, these questions can guide our living, day-to-day. God doesn’t promise to take away all difficulties and challenges. But God does promises love and grace and to be with us through it all. That can make all the difference. When we trust God’s love and presence, we can have a grateful heart every day of our lives.

Sunrise is about 5:45 these days. I know because the curtain on my east facing window hangs about three inches above the bottom of the window. The morning sky is beautiful, heralding another HOT desert day.

Morning duties begin by 6:30. Unlock the many doors of the house. Fill the giant cooler with ice and water. Turn off night lights, empty garbage cans, restock the bathrooms with TP and clean hand towels. And perhaps most important, brew the morning coffee.

The “casa” is quiet at this early hour except for the chorus of birds singing in the patio. In the background are the sounds of whirring and voices and traffic from the construction site next door. On most days this is the calm before the “storm.”

Before the 8:15 breakfast, the church bells peal, announcing the daily 8:00 Mass at the church next door. Then there is the laughter and padding of little feet, the toys banging and the occasional cries over sharing a toy among the several young children staying here. Very slowly, adults appear in the hallways, tired eyes and tousled hair. All of us wish for a little more sleep.

Each day is structured around meals and chores, and appointments for health issues, school registration, and immigration paperwork. There is family to contact, travel arrangements to make. At 10 every morning there is a YouTube English lesson for young and older to learn the English alphabet and vocabulary for time, money, days of the week, body parts, verbs. English is a difficult language –because there are rules…and, oh, by the way, there are all those exceptions to each rule.

As much as we plan out each day, there are always surprises. In our six weeks here, there have been “field trips” to the nearby shopping center and a water spray park. There have been medical emergencies, clinic and dental visits, a brand-new  baby, and many last-minute grocery runs for cooking oil, avocados, pinto beans, or ice cream. There have been the everyday ailments of scrapes and coughs, headaches and mosquito bites. And we’ve enjoyed the fun of Bingo, a pizza party, a sidewalk chalk art show, a dance, and bi-lingual karaoke on the patio.

There have been many trips to the airport and a couple of walks with guests to the bus station in the middle of the night, though we really discourage those late-night, early-morning departure times. Many of our guests have never traveled by bus or plane. They are anxious because they don’t know what to do on a plane or bus, nor do they completely understand where they are going.

However, there is a wonderful network of people here to help, providing duffle bags and backpacks and food for the journey, and there is even a group of people who greet the departing migrants at the El Paso airport and accompany them through security and all the way to the door of their airplane.

There are planned weekly events to look forward to: a community member comes once a week to help in the kitchen and prepare a delicious meal. Fr Iggy, a Franciscan friar, celebrates Mass with us in our lovely chapel every Wednesday and usually stays for lunch to visit and share his joy and compassion. Sister Guadalupe leads a prayer group twice a week for whomever wants to attend. Participants sing and pray, reflect and share stories of their lives and their faith. Sister concludes her visit with a sweet treat for everyone and a raffle drawing for a prize for one lucky winner. (Robert and Lori pictured below with Sr. Deidra, an immigration lawyer.)

We’ve had ice cream cones and water balloon tosses, cooling off in the sprinkler and watching fireworks in the neighborhood for the 4^th of July. We rounded up lots of coloring books and washable markers for our budding artists PLUS there is an artistic community member who has helped the children (and some of the adults) paint pictures and decorate rocks and mold playdough into imaginative sculptures. We even got some novels in Spanish to make a little library for the teens and adults. And every night after supper, there is a popular movie in the “sala” (community room), dubbed in Spanish.

Life in the shelter, Casa Papa Francisco, is mostly the normal day-to-day life. But there are also the hopes and dreams, the fears and anxieties of our guests, who are desperate for a better life for themselves and their children. In this country, all of us, except for the Native American peoples, have in our family tree ancestors who journeyed to here with these same yearnings, the same hopes for safety, enough food, and the dignity of work with just pay. Can we extend welcome to this new generation of migrants?

By Lori Fontana

How bad would it have to be that you would choose to leave your home, your extended family and friends, your country, and perhaps even your children or spouse to travel to a place where you desperately hoped life would be better? How bad?

How bad would it have to get for you to choose to travel thousands of miles – not via plane, train, or bus, but crammed in an open train car, or locked in the windowless trailer of a semi, or walking through thick jungle teeming with poisonous snakes and insects, through hostile cities plagued by corrupt police officials, through barren desert, with no relief from the heat, the tiredness, the hunger and thirst?

These are the “travel” stories we’re hearing here at the border. The people we meet are beautiful and brave. They arrive at our shelter having endured trauma, first in their own communities which are   unstable, at times to the point of collapse, under the weight of high inflation, few jobs, and high- priced and / or scarce food and necessities.

Many have endured physical deprivation and abuse on their journey. They’ve paid their life savings to hire a “coyote” who promises safe passage, but instead they have been mistreated with verbal and physical violence or even left stranded along the way, without food or water.

Some of our migrant guests have been the target of gang violence. They’ve been threatened, extorted, beaten, stabbed. One person who wouldn’t cooperate with the local gang was thrown into a pond of crocodiles. Gang members have threatened to kidnap or kill their children and other family members.

As I see it, and as our guests tell of their own experiences, it becomes apparent that people migrate to our United States of America for two basic reasons: lack of food / work and threat of violence. And I very much believe that if faced with either of these scenarios, I, too, might risk everything to end up in a place where I could find a job and have enough to eat, where I could send my kids to school and to bed each night without worrying that they might be kidnapped or killed.

Our borders, immigration – it is all very complicated; and yet, it’s simple. Native Americans were the first inhabitants of this land from sea to shining sea. And all of the rest of us are immigrants or come from a line of migrants to this country. Being a U.S. citizen is not the result of anything we’ve done – we were just born here! Many don’t see it this way. Loud voices decry migrants of today – they’re taking our jobs, crowding our schools, packing welfare rolls.

But, please, open your eyes. Look around. On an ordinary day in my hometown, someone delivered my newspaper (I still read one!) to my doorstep; someone cut my hair – both recent migrants. I rode the city bus – the driver was from west Africa; I ate some Thai food – the chefs were from Thailand. I passed a shoeshine stand, a laundromat, a nail salon – each of the proprietors was a recent immigrant. Our doctor is from China and our dentist from Korea.

How many “Help Wanted” signs do you see each day? Restaurants, hospitals, construction companies, schools, tech companies, daycares, retail stores, parks departments, farms and grocery stores – all segments of our economy are begging for workers. Where will they come from?

In 1886, in New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty was dedicated. Did you learn Lady Liberty’s inscription as a school kid?

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, send these the homeless tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!     ~Emma Lazarus

In the 1880’s, the tired and poor coming to our “golden door” were O’Malleys and Salvatores, Bukowskis and Ovrelids (like my grampa from Norway), Schmidts and the English counterpart – Smiths. Today it’s Sanchezes and Aguileras, Fouches and Bekeles, Smirnovs and Wangs. People yearning for, and willing to work for, an opportunity at the “American Dream.”

If the Statue of Liberty doesn’t compel you to reflect on immigration in 2024, I hope you will turn to the words of Jesus:

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.” Matthew 25:35 – 36

It is clear that our immigration system needs work. In the meanwhile, as Christians we are challenged that migrants are “Jesus” at our door. What part am I called to do? I can’t fix the global problems. But I can welcome the stranger at my door and offer a cup of cold water. This is the mission of Annunciation House.

By Robert Fontana

Happy, Holy Easter!  Because of the resurrection of Jesus, we proclaim in the ancient Creed: “I believe…in the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting.” I was reflecting on this truth following the deaths of a number of friends whose remains were entered into the earth. I wondered, if earth could speak, what would Mother Earth say to the corpus of one being laid to rest with hope in the resurrection of the body.  This is what came to me:

Mother Earth’s Letter to the Corpus of Friend

Dear Body of Friend, O holy corpus, O sacred bones and skin! Friend has been called home; you are still here. He has stepped into God’s time; you are left on earth time. I know you grieve your soul’s departure, the soul that animated your flesh and bones, that breathed air into your lungs, and sent life-giving blood through you heart. Be patient, O sacred corpus of Friend, in God’s good time, you will be united again.

In the meanwhile, you, O beautiful and grace-filled flesh and bones of dear Friend, you will be returned to the earth, to the soil from which you came. Earth comes from the stars and the galaxies, which in turn come from the Great Beginning when God unleashed the Spirit’s creative powers into the universe.  Earth, like a tender mother, through powerful and mystical forces guided by the Spirit, gave birth to the great seas and land masses, to the creatures of the air, water, land, and those below the land, and finally, in the last age, to woman and man.

You, sweet body of Friend, holy relic, are being returned to the soil that gave you birth. Do not be afraid. I will hold you until that great day when the dead shall rise, and you have been fully reunited with Friend in the transfiguration of the dead. Until then, be at peace.

During the months of lockdown in the pandemic, one benefit we enjoyed was that Robert and I grew in our  appreciation of the Chaplet form of prayer. We prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet with family members and friends over Zoom. Soon we discovered the sung version of this chaplet, which I especially enjoy praying and singing through.

Eventually, Robert developed our own simpler form of the chaplet type of prayer, calling it the Chaplet of Divine Friendship. The format is very similar to other chaplets, with an introductory prayer, the antiphon chanted before each of the five “decades,” and the ten repetitive short prayers, prayed in the call and response pattern.

The chaplet prayer has much in common with the rosary. Its repetition allows for calm reflection. It doesn’t require a lot of thinking but rather touches the heart and the  spirit. This is one reason why I appreciate this form of prayer so much – when I pray / sing the chaplet, my  worries are pushed to the side. My anxious thoughts are drowned out by the simple declarations of faith in the chaplet’s prayers. Praying the chaplet helps me in my  everyday life. It is a form of contemplative prayer.

I pray it when I’m driving – I can hum the prayer and still pay close attention to the crazy Seattle traffic. I pray it when I’m waiting – in grocery check-out lines or at a grandchild’s soccer practice. I pray it when I’m walking to the post office or library, when I’m worrying about a  problem as I wash the dishes or clean the bathroom, when I awake in the night and can’t sleep. Increasingly, I’ve been intentional about turning to this simple prayer because I KNOW it’s so much better, so much more productive than complaining or ruminating or drowning in “what if’s.”

We hope that you will take a look at the Chaplet of Divine Friendship which we’ve recorded at this YouTube link:  https://youtu.be/xX_idGXc-20

Try it for Advent. Use your rosary to help you keep count of the chaplet decades. May it be a help to you, a calming, encouraging reminder of the great love of Jesus for YOU.

An Advent Spiritual Practice: The Chaplet of Divine Friendship_________________________________________

Opening Prayer – In the name of the Father…Abba Father, Lord of heaven and earth, you created woman and man in your image and likeness and planted them in the garden of earth to love one another and to care for the flora and fauna of the earth. You did not leave them alone but walked alongside them as you walked alongside our biblical ancestors Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Rachel. And in the fullness of time, you sent your beloved Son Jesus, to be not merely our Lord and Savior, but our friend. Jesus said, “I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15) (5 decades)

All– Abba Father, so loved the world, he gave His only Son, not to condemn the world but to save everyone, to save everyone.

Leader – Jesus our brother, kind and good (10 x’s)

All – I trust in you, I trust in you.

After the 5^th decade:

Closing Prayer: Abba Father, Lord of heaven and earth, thank you for giving us Jesus as our friend and brother.  Help us to return His friendship by being attentive to the Holy Spirit’s working in our lives and in the world and having the courage to follow the Spirit’s prompting always. In the name of the Father…

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”

So begins a famous poem, Sonnets from the Portuguese 43, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. These lines came to mind as Robert and I completed a 1000-piece puzzle depicting the city of Seattle. 1000 pieces! There were many moments when we sighed and said to each other, “Look how many pieces we still have to do! This is hopeless. We’ll never get this done.” One thousand pieces – let me count them!

But after six weeks of working on the puzzle, we finally pushed in the last piece. At the end, it looked as if we were missing two pieces, but we found them, one under the table, and the last one hidden in the sofa cushions, as the sofa was pushed up against the table on which we had spread out those thousand pieces.

Why do I write about our completing a big puzzle? Because working a puzzle is good for marriage. Think about it.   Putting a puzzle together requires many of the same skills as building a strong marriage: teamwork, patience, awareness, creativity, and checking in with each other: innumerable times I asked Robert, “What do you think this piece with a  little red splotch and squiggly dark lines looks like?” Together, we also frequently consulted the picture guide that came with the puzzle – our puzzle roadmap, so to speak.

A successful marriage requires teamwork because marriage is a team effort. If our marriage is healthy, we will have many shared goals and use our gifts to help each other reach those goals. When Robert succeeds / wins, so do I.  When Robert fits one or three or a dozen more pieces into the puzzle, it helps me to see where some of my puzzle pieces go. Our marriage has give and take, times when I support Robert, times when he picks up the slack for me. So I applaud each time he fits a puzzle piece in; he cheers me on when I finally discover where that piece with the red splotch goes.

Patience – now there’s a big one.

Countless times, I picked up a puzzle piece, sure that I knew where it went, only to set it back down again in the jumbled pile of loose pieces because it just didn’t quite fit there. Patience is essential in marriage. Why? Because nobody’s perfect. Life is entirely a learning experience from start to finish, and we are learning as we go. We shift life’s puzzle pieces this way and that until finally, alleluia, one settles perfectly into place. Ahhhh, what a good feeling that is. But if we give up too soon, we won’t discover where that darn piece goes.

Each puzzle piece is small and only a tiny part of the whole. Sometimes we have to step back to see the whole picture. Thus, awareness is invaluable. With this puzzle, we grouped pieces into “sky,” “buildings,” “boats,” and “water.” That helped. Looking at the whole scene, we had a better idea about where each piece might fit. At times in our marriage, we have to stop and take in a larger view. The day-to-day routine of work, family, activities, cooking, shopping – these are the building blocks of life, essential but not the whole picture. It is so helpful to take a breath and see the whole of our marriage.

For this, prayer is invaluable, our own personal prayer and prayer as a couple. Especially when the pieces of life aren’t fitting together very well, when the routine is too hectic, too boring, too exhausting – awareness, nurtured by prayer, reminds us that there is a greater reality guiding our relationship and giving meaning to our lives.

I readily admit that between Robert and me, he is the  creative one. And putting a puzzle together does require some creativity. He is very good at looking at the “squiggly lines” on a one-inch puzzle piece and zeroing in on the area of the puzzle picture where it will fit. Interestingly, only recently did Robert decide he enjoyed puzzles. I think the isolation of the Covid quarantine nudged him to try a puzzle; and he ended up being quite adept at it and actually appreciating the challenge.   Working a puzzle together has shown us that each of us brings gifts “to the table” to help accomplish the task. While I notice the tiny features of a color, shape or  squiggle, Robert can see the overall design. In this case, my attention to detail complements Robert’s creativity.

Finally, back to the aspect of checking in: it is vital to a relationship and requires clear and kind communication. We asked each other for advice. We shared ideas and observations. I even let Robert put in the final puzzle piece.

But perhaps the greatest gifts for us as we worked the puzzle were how it fostered closeness, and it was fun! For some time each day, over weeks, we sat side-by-side at the puzzle table. We rubbed shoulders (literally) and reached around and across each other. We chatted and laughed as we worked toward a common goal. It was a sweet time together, time that nurtured our marriage.

Try a puzzle together!

But if puzzles just aren’t your thing, find an activity to do with your spouse that builds your loving relationship – riding bikes; walking in the park or hiking in the mountains; fishing or crosswords or refinishing furniture or cooking.

And, of course, remember to pray together. Couple prayer is the foundation of your relationship in Christ. These activities foster “togetherness” and fun, drawing out your gifts and strengthening your marriage.

By Lori Fontana

We’re all on the road “home” to God. We all want to get to heaven…though not today, Lord. But we’re not just in a holding pattern here. What are we doing “while we wait” for entrance into our eternal home? The chorus from a 60’s church song contains my two main thoughts:

Love one another; love one another, as I have loved you.

Care for each other; care for each other, as I have cared for you.

And bear one another’s burdens, and share each other’s joys.

Love one another; love one another, and bring each other home.

First, I recognize and embrace that I am a beloved child of God; and in this love, God gives me gifts and  talents. None of us has ALL the gifts, nor are our gifts perfect; but each gift is valuable. It’s important that I not measure my worth according to a false hierarchy of gifts. When St Paul talks about the parts of the body, each part has a different function, but all parts are valued and needed.  1 Corinthians 12: 14 – 22

Secondly, who I am and the gifts I have – these are meant for me and for others, for the community.  The Christian life is not just God and me.

The Christian life is a shared life. All love, including God’s love, is made real in the giving and the receiving. In the famous Rublev Trinity icon, the figures representing God the Father, God the Son – Jesus, and God the Holy Spirit are arranged in a circle, acknowledging each other. They are depicted in relationship with each other!

Each of us is created and loved by God. But from the moment we are born, we are diminishing, whether through illness or injury, external calamities such as job loss or natural disasters, or simply by aging. Where do we draw purpose and hope in light of diminishment? St. Paul offers a hopeful message: that even while we may appear to be “wasting away,” we are growing closer to our eternal glory in God. But we’re not called to retreat to a private corner and waste away. In the time we are given here, we are called to use our gifts to build up the reign of God, to be a power for good in the world.  2 Corinthians 4:7 – 10, 16 – 18

Our Catholic tradition offers the saints, people who, even though suffering limitations, were a power for good. Plus, there are saintly people all around us – “saints-in-the-making.” Here are a few examples.

Sr. Thea Bowman was an African American woman, born in rural Mississippi in the 1930’s. Hers was a loving family, but being a woman and an African American, in the rural south – these were challenges. Taught by Franciscan sisters, she was inspired to join their convent in Wisconsin – a group of all white women, some of whom had never seen a black person. Sr. Thea’s strong confidence in God’s love and purpose for her life carried her forward. She was a natural teacher, using all the gifts of her black Christian culture – song, dance, a deep faith honed through persecution – to guide her students. Until the end of her 50-some years of life, she remained hope-filled and faith-filled until finally succumbing to a painful cancer. In the midst of her illness, Sr. Thea famously said: “Part of my approach to my illness has been to say I want to choose life. I want to keep going. I want to live fully until I die.” Sr. Thea – a power for good!

My mom just turned 93 which brings with it the diminishment of physical and mental abilities and      energy. In Mount St Vincent assisted living, she is welcoming and kind to everyone, a “missionary” for the love of Jesus. Though hard of hearing most of her life, she is otherwise quite healthy and gets up each morning with purpose. Even though she is shy, she reaches out to the people around her because she knows the challenges people face when moving into assisted living, and she wants to help. My mom – a power for good!

Joey K – Our friend Joey is a young adult who has Downs Syndrome. Some might say Joey has a difficult challenge. However, Joey doesn’t see it that way. He lives a full, successful life, energized by his desire to help – in his family, community, church, and workplace. From a very young age, he visited the elderly with his family. Now, Joey works at the retirement home. He does his job with great love and care, and he is a friend to all! Outside of work, Joey is a lead usher at Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, and he always serves at funeral Masses. He is a member of the board of directors for the local Downs Syndrome Community organization. Joey is positive, outgoing, generous in sharing his gifts, and confident that he is loved by God. In that confidence, he loves others. He recognizes others’ gifts and draws them out. Joey – a power for good!

Each of you, I’m sure, knows many folks who, though dealing with their own challenges, use their gifts to help others. Each is a power for God’s goodness in the world. Every one of us is called to be a power for good. Even while, as St Paul says, we are “wasting away” in this life, we can be the hands and feet, heart and voice of Jesus in our world, as our own circumstances allow. We can be a power for good within the providence of our everyday life. What we do and how we do it will look different for each person; but we all can do something!

Mother Teresa encourages us with, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” And as Erma Bombeck, an author, humorist and devout Catholic, said:

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me.’”

That’s being a power for good!

By Lori Fontana

You know about tulips. I think they are my favorite flower. Each fall, around early September, I buy or pull out of the storage shed the oddly shaped, gnarled orbs we call bulbs. They look dry and lifeless, with loose peelings of brown skin and sometimes a tuft of short, dark root tendrils. I loosen the soil in our garden, dig little circular tunnels straight down, and, one-by-one, place the bulbs inside. As I smooth dirt over each bulb, I wonder – what will this one look like? What color will it be? Because, usually, I have no idea which bulb is which, which is red or pink, white or purple – it will be a great surprise come the spring.

Then, with great hope, I wait…and wait…and wait.

The bulbs are out of sight, hidden in the earth. Through the fall and winter, they are covered over with fallen leaves, puddles of rain, a smattering of snow.

The winter months are so dark, so gray, so wet. It’s hard to remember the promise of colorful blooms. Our Seattle spring comes very slowly. We might have one sunny day in January; maybe one more in February. By March the sun might shine once a week. Yet the air is still damp and icy cold. But the tulips respond to the slightest touch of sunshine warmth. Forgotten over the long  winter, each bulb now stretches the tiny tip of a green leaf through the soil and into the weak sunlight of early spring.

At first, I hardly notice that the garden is coming alive. But then the tip of the leaf pushes further up; one leaf, then two and three. And nestled between them is the flower stem with the tightly closed bloom perched on top. The tulips grow at their own pace; and they keep their blooms securely under wraps until they reach full height. Only then do the buds begin to unfurl, showing the glorious colors of their delicate   petals, some rounded, some pointed, some ruffled or scalloped. The petals are bright and  luminous, catching the breeze and waving and bowing in the sunlight. What a wonderful spring surprise!

It’s very fitting that we observe Holy Week in the spring. As we approach Holy Week – the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus – I think tulips are a gentle reminder of the desolation and the glory of this painful, wonderful, awesome mystery. On the cross, Jesus gives his final gift. Through his passion and death, Jesus pours out his life in great love for us. At the end, he has nothing left to give – he’s given us his all. Taken down from the cross, Jesus is placed in the tomb, his tortured body hidden away in darkness, out of sight. His followers are left alone, bereft and drained of hope.

Symbolically, for Jesus’ followers, it’s winter in their hearts and souls: Jesus, whom the disciples believed was the Messiah, their friend and teacher whom they loved, is now lifeless, gone from their sight. All is hopelessness. The disciples cower behind closed doors, filled with doubt and fear. Quickly forgotten is the Jesus who turned water into wine, who multiplied loaves and    fishes, who healed the blind and the lame, comforted the mourning, gathered the children in his arms, and raised Lazarus from the dead.

Then comes Sunday morning. Mary Magdalen and her companions come to the garden, intending to anoint Jesus’ body. The first rays of the rising sun warm their faces as they approach the tomb where Jesus lies. And then, wonder of wonders! “An angel of the Lord…[had] rolled back the stone.” To the women, the angel says, “He is not here, for he has been raised just s he said.” Matthew 28:2, 5-6

Jesus appears to Mary Magdalen and others of his disciples. Over the next several weeks, Jesus appears to many believers and doubters alike. With the resurrection, many renew their faith in Jesus; many others come to believe. What was lost is found; what was hidden is now seen; what was dead is now alive!

In a very humble way, the tulip mirrors the Resurrection. The tulip bulb appears dead. It’s hidden away in the cold earth. In fact, it must lie buried in winter’s cold so that it can “rise” to new life in the spring. A small miracle: from the bulb which, when planted, appears to be wrapped in a drab burial cloth, bursts forth a magnificent flower rich with color and life.

From death to life! The miracle of the Resurrection. As we travel with Jesus through Palm Sunday to the Last Supper of Holy Thursday, to the Agony in the  Garden, through Jesus’ trial and torture, his Way of the Cross, his crucifixion on Calvary’s hill, his death and burial – cling to sure hope. Jesus’ burial in the dark tomb is not the final word. Easter morn will dawn, and with it the glory and colors of NEW LIFE.  When you see tulips blooming in gardens and on Easter dinner  tables, remember that death is not the end. For we who believe, it is the path to new life. What appears dead has new life in the promise of Jesus.

The lesson of the tulip is echoed in a line by Martin   Luther, the great Protestant Reformer:

“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.”

Happy Easter!