Author: Susie

When I pack a suitcase to visit Mom in Cleveland I don’t have to pack sweatshirts or nightgowns as Mom always promises, "I have plenty for you to wear!" Every night before I get into bed, there is a neatly folded flannel nightgown for me and in the morning, another sweatshirt Mom has decorated. Well, it’s cold this year in Cleveland, and I keep looking at the daffodils with their heads bent to the ground by the wind off Lake Erie, shivering….. The wind blows from Lake Erie right into Mom’s bedroom and I feel like one of those daffodils sometimes. I climb into my Dad’s side of the bed (he’s in a nursing home) and I muse off to sleep very cosy in one of Mom’s flannel nightgowns that she has placed on my side of the bed.

Last night I got bold and decided to challenge this "it’s Spring" thing Clevelanders keep touting. "Ha!" I chortled, "It’s Spring, the Indians won the home opener and it’s time for the fancy nightgowns!" I took a bath and put on Mom’s favorite Shalimar scented body lotion. Then I approached the treasure trove. You really can’t approach the treasure trove of fancy nightgowns without the ritual of wonderful body lotions. I opened the big dresser drawer like I was 5 years old again and I viewed the neatly folded satin nightgowns in white, pastel pink and cream colors. Real lace on the necklines and sleeves, Peignoirs, and on the left, aside from the spendor, the flannel nightgowns all neatly folded. "It’s Spring!" I told the flannels, "And I’m wearing this one!" I lifted out a nightgown that looked like a wedding dress! V neck studded with little pink satin ribbons that ladies tie in bows, one by one. Sleeves edged in creamy lace and little rose colored flowers. I slipped this wonder over my head and I was transported back to an image of my Mother gliding out of her bedroom. A tall, regal woman in a nightgown of pink, purple and green. She wore slippers with little tuffs on them. To the five year old me, she was tall and queen-like. I grinned when I saw the sleeves on this gown barely fall below my elbows and the hem of the gown falling mid calf. Mom is 5 feet tall and I am a good 8 inches taller! No matter; I slid on a little peignoir and try to figure out how to tie it. I felt like a ragged urchin girl who was transported into the Queen’s bedroom. "I don’t know how to tie this thing!" I mumbled. I made an awkward bow. Mom’s size tiny-petite slippers won’t fit, so I complete the ensemble with a pair of white athletic tube socks (Did I tell you it’s freezing here in Spring-time Cleveland?) I glided out into the living room to show off my treasure and my sister gasped with joy! "You look like a Princess! You need a tiara!" Mom laughed, "Where did you get that?" she smiled too with old memories. I glanced with distain on my subjects and I glided over to look out at Lake Erie, waves crashing against the shoreline. "It’s Springtime and I’m a daffodil, standing up straight." I grandly strolled to my seat on the couch in the wake of my spendor.

Later that night, I woke up several times and thought, "It’s cold in here. I haven’t been cold before this. What’s up? Did Mom take away a blanket? … No they’re all here. This is the same pile of fluffy blankets I’ve been sleeping in all week. Brrrrrr…." I rolled out of bed and went to the linen closet to get another blanket. I thought of the plains women who came across the wilds of America in wagons and who slept in flannel nightgowns in drafty log cabins. Well ladies! You were right weren’t you? Flannel nightgowns one and Fancy nightgowns zero.

“WOW! A path with an island!” Mike yelled enthusiastically, “You can get through the yard two different ways!” I gazed at my little rock island with one half-dead rose bush and contemplated the work I had done in the last two weeks to create a pathway through the “rockeries” in the front yard. I left that little island in the middle of a path because it has some large coral rocks a builder left there years ago. I planted a rose bush there a while back near the rocks and I made feeble attempts to garden in the rocks, but a lack of sunlight and a northern exposure rendered my efforts to grow flowers useless. I was left with those big rocks and one half-dead rose bush. The rest of the front yard is small plantings surrounded with a maze of grass to maneuver if you want to get from one side to the other. What Mike commented on was my work as I systematically and manually laid pavers to redefine an old pathway I found when we dug up the yard to fix the plumbing. “You should write about how to build pathways!” Chuck added helpfully and turned to Mike to discuss the latest yard sprinkler project. The two neighbors wandered off to discuss water pressure and sprinkler heads as I stood rummaging through my memory as lines from an old poem played in my head. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”
What was I thinking when I began this project of building pathways? Kneeling on my gardening rug, digging up the front yard with garden trowel and sometimes pick and shovel, smoothing the soil, picking out rocks, fitting and laying each stone paver by hand…”How to build pathways?” I snorted, “No one does this kind of work manually any more!” I turned, but the boys were gone, leaving me to think about pathways diverging, making choices, accomplishing grand things and a quality hand-made job well done.

This is the sixth station of the Cross. If you look at the picture, you see a woman wiping the face of Jesus. Legend tells us that the image of Jesus’ face stayed on the cloth. He left Veronica a gift. Who is Veronica? We don’t hear about her in Scripture. The four Evangelists do not mention her in the Passion of Christ, but she is real to us nevertheless. The name Veronica comes from the Latin and means “true image.” She is one who is filled with compassion at seeing a suffering man. She sees through the dirt and sweat to His true image, to His pain. She steps forward through columns of armed soldiers to wipe the blood and sweat off the face of the suffering man. She puts her safety on the line for the sake of giving comfort to one not as “lucky” as she is. You see, she is a sinner; He is not, but He is taking on her sin. Step out there today and wipe the face of one who is less fortunate. He might be Jesus and you will “see” His face.

How Much We Need Four Good Friends…

Have you ever stood or sat paralyzed when someone asked you to do something or it was your turn to say something and you couldn’t move or speak? For me the paralysis is accompanied with a sudden sweat and a pounding in my head!!! I find it amazing how I can attend Mass daily and love Jesus, but when asked to “do” something, I turn to ice water, my feet frozen to the floor in terror! I remember the first time Father signaled to me when there were not enough Eucharistic ministers! Only two people stood up at the altar to perform Eucharistic Minister duties and Father looked straight into my eyes and nodded, “Susan, come here.” Like a poor frightened child, I ducked my head and my eyes replied, “Not me! I’m not ready! I’m not worthy!” A woman stood up in the back and walked to the altar and I realized I was sweating… with fear? Of what? (“Oh Lord I am not worthy.”)

What if the four men carrying a paralyzed friend to Jesus had suddenly frozen up in fear of approaching the Lord, of breaking into someone’s house by tearing a hole in their roof or of lowering their paralyzed friend through the roof into the midst of a bunch of people maybe above the four friends’ social status? The great Teacher and the scribes from the Temple were in that house…. What if the four friends had said, “We can’t DO THAT!” The paralyzed man would have remained on his bed, alone and unsaved. Instead his four friends took advantage of the presence of God and grabbed their friend to take him to Jesus. When the way was blocked by obstructions, they found another way! Illegal? Maybe. Hard? Very. But get to Jesus they must. The motivation, “Our friend needs the Lord!!!” had to be foremost on their minds. For the full story, see the Gospel of Mark 2: 1-12.

I’m not suggesting that anyone “break and enter.” And fortunately our churches and rectories are open most of the time. Many churches are blessed to have Perpetual Adoration chapels open 24 hours a day so we can go to the Lord most anytime. But if we can’t work up the nerve to stand up and approach the Lord or we don’t know how to approach the Lord (“Oh Lord I am not worthy…”), then just wait! I remember vividly at an Emmaus retreat a woman taking me in her arms and leading me, saying “don’t be afraid, just trust me…” She led me to a chair and said “wait here.” I thought at that time, “This must be what sitting at the gate of heaven feels like!” I was so grateful that someone came to get me as I stood paralyzed and unable to walk to the Lord myself. She walked with me and sang to me and said, “Be not afraid.” Was she the hand of God? Yes she was; a good friend. I believe to this day, she brought me to Jesus when I couldn’t go on my own. Friends… if you have a friend who needs help, first pray for guidance and then… bring your friend into the presence of the Lord. Gently whisper “Be not afraid, for I am with you.” Even our prayer can move someone. Don’t be afraid… Be one of the four good friends and don’t be defeated by the obstacles keeping you from bringing your friend to the Lord… You might not “fit” into the gathering either by your social status or your education, but the Lord wants you to come. My pastor writes, “The men that carry the sick man and that lower him through the roof symbolize a community that takes the suffering to the feet of Jesus. We, as a community, can be the instrument by which the sick and distant are taken to God with our prayers, faith, service and example. Upon seeing the faith of the brothers of the community, Jesus approaches the paralytic man and forgives his sins.

What if we don’t take a friend to the Lord? We might ignore opportunities the Lord places before us all the days of our friend’s life. Then we might just one day be carrying our friend when it is too late. Do it now. God bless you good friend.

Chuck and I are blessed to have lots of friends. Surely Mike is to be considered a best bud as he filled in his eroded beach and I have taken half that dirt OUT to fill various needs in my yard. Mike provides the hoses and water, the expertise on wierd stuff and the photos. Mike provides topics for my books when I’m blank. As for the other men in my yard, they are dolls too. I noticed new muscles on Chuck’s arms from work, work and work with shovel and hammer. Thanks to the guys who stood on Chuck’s rikkety ladders and helped put the martin house back up after hurricane season… the martins are back today singing and dancing in their slightly cock-eyed home (in case you didn’t know… coming back to the same "house" every year is a thing martins do… Mike and I think it’s a genetic thing like the swallows coming back to Capistrano…) Today is a beautiful sunny day with blue sky. Thank God! Have a great day my friends!