Your Heart His Home

When I was living in Rome, I got to know the Little Sisters of the Lamb. They are a mendicant order, literally begging for their bread, for their means of life. These were spectacularly beautiful women with deep spirits, and so free.

Some stories testify to Easter Passion more than most. Case in point: Venerable Cardinal Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan (1928-2002).

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.

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.

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

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.

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.”

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.