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Saint Paul
Tuesday, March 19, 2024

HomeCommentaryYour Heart His Home

Your Heart His Home

The mercy of Jesus knelt before her

Our parish was hosting a Lenten “day of mercy,” confessions available from noon to 9 p.m. All day long, multiple visiting priests would tend to those in need of forgiveness. On that day, Eucharistic adoration was moved into the main sanctuary and so I held my Holy Hour there, praying amidst the souls visiting the stations for confession scattered throughout the church. It was a lovely grace to be in the presence of so many seeking the merciful face of God.

The beautiful burn of sacrifice

If you read my column regularly, you know last month I reflected on the life and writing of Father Alfred Delp (1907-1945), a German Jesuit executed by the Nazis during World War II.

Cultivating an authentic ‘Advent of the heart’

This Advent, I’ve been spending time with the writing of Father Alfred Delp, priest and martyr (1907-1945).

Pained prayer is powerful prayer

As part of my chemotherapy regimen, I requested intentions from friends, family and connections on social media. I would offer my treatment for them. Chemo scared me and I knew I wasn’t going to fare well through it if I didn’t offer it up in very concrete ways.

The power in a fresh load of laundry

When I was about six, I shared a bedroom — and bed — with my next oldest sister, Mo. One night, lying in bed, chatting before falling asleep, an argument ensued during which my sister called me “a pig.”

Suffering unleashes love — and blankets

My best friend from college was diagnosed with cancer one month after me. I had surgery in June, she in July. Our chemo treatments began one week apart. I started first. Though we are treating different cancers, it was a comfort to be able to tell her what my experience was like beforehand.

The unassailable calm of God

The thing that terrified me the most about the prospect of receiving chemotherapy was this: I was worried it might kick my very mild case of multiple sclerosis into a more progressive version. Stress can sometimes do this to the wearied MS body.

Don’t drink the poison

Five years ago, I had cancer. We caught it early and had it removed. The margins were clean so we sighed with relief and went on with living, knowing it might come back.
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