We often pray for strength and, at times, courage. Strength for the journey and courage to face what lies ahead. For if we had strength and courage enough, we feel we could face anything. In fact, the Church has a name for this: fortitude. A gift of the Holy Spirit, fortitude is characterized by what St. Thomas Aquinas described as “a firmness of mind and spirit that helps us in difficult situations.” It’s like an armor we wear and a shield we use that cannot be broken. It derives from the Latin word, fortis, meaning: strong, powerful, vigorous, steadfast, courageous and brave.

The seasons of Advent and Christmas create a space in our lives for wonder and mystery that leads to anticipation and joy. They do this in light of the Gospels that describe both the Incarnation of God in Jesus and Mary’s willingness to bear the Son of God. How comfortable or welcoming we are to this mystery and wonder depends on our willingness to ponder the unknown.

As I recently rewatched It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, I had to smile at the interplay of all the Peanuts characters and its whimsical take on some greater truths. I am finding that some of these truths connect with a visionary approach to Church renewal. By innovating the traditional synod, Pope Francis is making space in the global Church for present realities, concerns and hopes of the People of God.

I understand this movement of time and the reasons my children must embrace every moment away from us. I understand it, because I used to be that 20-year-old who longed to leave home again, to “adult” as they say. In 1992, I knew my parents mourned my leaving for college. I recognized and felt the tension of their desire that I stay and my strong desire to leave. And I knew that I must leave if I ever wanted to become a whole person. Wholeness. It makes me think of Jesus’ mother, Mary.

How do we find blessings outside of our comfort zones? The key is in the movement. Just as St. Paul uses running in a race as a metaphor for endurance in the spiritual life, I have discovered that running benefits my mind, body and spirit. Here are seven ways that I have discovered blessings outside of my comfort zone.

As I reflect on a Eucharistic Church, I believe we have “missed the mark,” as a church, in teaching and living the truth of ourselves in light of the gift of life and the reality of who we are in Christ. So many of our brothers and sisters, who are utterly empty of hope and belonging, are turning to violent means of ending their own lives and sometimes taking the lives of others. We say we are children of God and we have dignity because of this truth. Yet, so many of us walk on the road to Emmaus with our heads down, lost in our own worlds, not recognizing our fellow humans with Christ within and in our midst.

Walking forward in the communion line as if on my road to Emmaus, I focus my attention on “the source and summit of the Christian life.” So focused, I neglect who is in my periphery, the people of God, the community of faith. I pass the people I don’t know or barely know and I think about my sin, my unworthiness, my silent sufferings, not wanting to be bothered with the concerns of others: the loneliness, anxiety and despair that are rampant in our world. So intent, tunnel-visioned even, I ignore Christ that walks before and behind me, including the ones on the margins of our churches and our world. Pulled forward by our fears and remnants of faith, we move as if alone and isolated, lost in our newsfeeds and conspiracies. According to Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, chronic loneliness and disconnection effects over half of the people in our country. This then leads to a loss of hope. Reality, truth and connection are hard to come by. Yet I know where a sense of belonging can begin.

The meaning of ashes on our foreheads takes us to the ground of our beings where God’s truth and mystery dwells. In awe, we stand gazing at our own lives and moments of wonder that help us to gaze at the cross with humbled and expanded hearts. From ashes to awe to the cross we stand in our truth before the crucified one and allow God to be God.

Allow this Lenten poem to lead you from ashes to the cross, from the ground of our being to the love and mercy of God, to transformation as we return to God.

God’s mercy is always available to us but how often do we ask for it or receive it? I may not think I need it, or maybe I’m not a sinner after all. I may not feel worthy of God’s forgiveness. Through the parable of the Prodigal Son and the movie, “The Mission,” we explore God’s mercy and what makes it so important to living a full life.

In Mary’s first-century Mediterranean and Judean world, she lived to bring honor to her father and family. Yet, when asked by God to bear the Messiah, she fully consented to all that lay ahead, giving space for God, even though the consequences as an unmarried woman could be grave. Mary’s world was, in no way, a world like ours in the West today where women have minds of their own. To better understand Mary’s yes, we will consider Mary as God-Bearer, Contemplative and Prophet.

Perspective. What a tremendous word. I have a deep appreciation for the perspectives of others, especially if it helps me to expand my own vision and see more clearly. At the same time, I want to share my perspective – my observations, etc. How can all of us benefit from a both/and viewpoint?

Carl Jung first wrote about the phenomenon of the two halves of life. During the first half of life, a person develops confidence in his or her identity (ego), shaping it through life’s experiences and desire for success, need for belonging, importance and security. As a person grows spiritually, though, he may find that the conscious things that initially shape his first half of life no longer help him in a path to self-discovery. If he seeks growth, he begins to face the second half of life where he must look inward and beyond what he perceives as acceptable to others.

In the midst of these random summer games, I grew up alongside my siblings and neighbors. We played until it grew dark, or until we were called inside for dinner or to watch The Muppet Show. We did not pay attention to the passing of time. It might have been the closest experience of kairos that we ever knew. Kairos is a Greek word philosopher Paul Tillich (1886-1965) explained as “God’s time.” Also referred to as “deep time,” kairos meant we lived in the present moment, unrelated to the past or the future. It allowed us the freedom to be our true selves. Then, I did not have any concept of myself as an individual, except for wanting to grow taller. My true self, or who I really am as God created me to be, expressed herself without hesitation, naturally and unconsciously when I was very young. Then, as I grew up, my true self was harder to find.

When I sit still and revere these surprises of creation, my ponderings direct me toward the sacred. The more time I spend contemplating the movements and beauty of the hummingbird, for example, the more that I wonder about it. Wonder leads to a desire to know more. The more I know, the stronger connection I feel to the Creator of all things. My amazement at the hummingbird leads to more amazement at God. Sometimes, my sense of wonder and awe overwhelms and renders me speechless, as with the incredibly detailed transmissions from deep space recently shared by NASA.

I recently experienced a reminder that I am part of the ocean and not just a lone wave struggling to make my voice heard. At a gathering of faith-filled and passionate women, we shared our deepest longings and desires to be disciples for Christ and leaders in the Church. The gathering of Women of the Church profoundly inspired me. In this blog, I hope to share that enthusiasm, along with my own “she-roe”, so that you can see what is possible.

What is the connection between Pentecost and an American Indian powwow? In the sacred circle of the powwow and in the Trinity, we discover our calling to the circle dance in the heart of Christ. May we all enter into this space to build up the Church and proclaim the Good News. (6/16/22)

A golden retriever can teach us a lot about magnanimity: having a loftiness of spirit that enables one to bear trouble calmly and with a noble generosity. Like Jesus, we can face “fruitful, creative tension” with a willingness to listen and learn from one another.

We often question our worthiness and whether we need to earn God’s love and belonging. The movie, “Encanto,” helps us to look closely at what it takes to feel worthy of the gifts we are given and the people who love us. In time, we can realize that no one can earn what is already within us.

The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone and it is amazing in our eyes! How can kerygma, proclaiming the Good News, teach us to be the cornerstone? How can we see the world, each other and ourselves with Easter eyes-facing truth and standing hopeful in the midst of rejection, just as Jesus was and is rejected for weakness that is our strength and joy?