The first time our son John saw the image of Jesus as Divine Mercy, he pointed excitedly and started blowing kisses at the picture.
So, I thought, "I better check this out." You should, too. To summarize, Jesus revealed Himself as Divine Mercy to St. Faustina Kowalska in the 1930s. He wanted her to spread His message of mercy to the world. To accomplish this, he requested that an image be painted -- an image of the resurrected Lord, rays of blue and red shining forth from His Sacred Heart, with the words "Jesus, I trust in you" written at the bottom. He also revealed to her a beautiful chaplet that he requested be prayed for souls. The two main prayers are as follows: "Eternal Father, I offer You the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world." and "For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world." At the direction of her confessor, St. Faustina also kept a Diary of all of the heavenly revelations she received and her beautiful sufferings. To learn more, please visit www.marian.org. -- the web site for the Marians of the Immaculate Conception, promoters of this devotion.
So, what does this have to do with catechizing children with special needs? A LOT. Part of our duty as parents and catechists is to teach children how to pray and to connect with God. When my son was very young, I questioned the value of what I considered to be "complicated" prayers. I prejudged him, based on the "logical" assumptions. But as I watched John and his peers with disabilities, I realized that we must follow what some have termed the "least dangerous assumption" -- especially for children with communication challenges. What this means is that, unless we have solid evidence to the contrary, we assume that the children can or will understand on some level. Try first -- do not refuse to expose a child to a treasure of the faith because of your opinion.
This view was reinforced by a beautiful article in Marian Helper magazine, Fall 2006 edition, page 16. It is titled "Meet Max: He Won't Go to School Until He Watches the Chaplet on TV." Max is 15. Max has autism. Max is not Catholic; he is the grandson of Charles "Chuck" Colson, famous evangelical Christian. Like many children with autism, Max likes rhythm and repetition -- it is comforting. The Chaplet and similar devotions like the Rosary provide this. But beyond this, Max's mother and evangelical pastor believe that the Holy Spirit is moving through Max and in this Chaplet. Does he know what he's saying? I cannot say for sure, since I'm not in his mind and soul, but I say "yes," embrace the least dangerous assumption, and accept the testimony of those who love him and speak of the fruit of this devotion in his life.
But what if we teach the Chaplet to a child and they just parrot it and do not understand all the words? First, scripture makes it clear that words have power in and of themselves. Just think of God's NAME. What comes from our mouths does matter. We must speak with reverence and charity. How I wish that my first instinct when under stress would be to recite the Chaplet of Divine Mercy rather than say or think any number of nasty, vicious words! How beautiful for the ripples of mercy to echo into the universe.
Second, God is not limited as we are. He works with great mystery and poetry and artistry. Perhaps the Holy Spirit moves Max to recite these words near to a despairing soul -- and that soul grabs these words as a life preserver? Perhaps he says them on a day when his mother feels hopeless and she is moved to turn trustingly to Jesus?
Third, all children deserve the comfort of their Heavenly Father. If reciting these words soothes and reassures a child -- Praise God! Let Him work His mercy.
Finally, I strongly, emphatically recommend this devotion to parents and caregivers of people with disabilities. I am not writing today's entry with a consoled heart. I'm not in a bad mood, but I'm not exactly dancing around, filled with spiritual pleasures. Along with many blessings, I've had a lot of temptations and internal trials today. I feel tired and needy and weak and sinful. But I have peace; I have joy -- because I do not rely on myself. I trust in Jesus. He is everything. I need His Mercy. Special parents, you know the drill: all the uncertainty and questions and snafus with insurance and doctors and schools. Battles. Mistakes. Anger. Isolation. Physical pain. Financial worries. It's not easy to trust, is it? It's not easy to forgive and pray for those who hurt us or our children.
When we first embraced this devotion as a family, I felt like a hypocrite. I did not always trust in His Mercy. John would be lying in pain in a hospital bed, and I'd be physically sick with sorrow and worry. I was anxious about his future. I was uncertain even how to deal with the challenges of the present moment. It was very hard to trust in God's mercy. And even now I'd be lying if I said I always trust Him. BUT our pain and lack of trust at times is an even greater reason to CHOOSE to express trust and to call on God's mercy. We must choose -- make an act of the Will -- to trust in God's goodness, mercy, and love for us. It is not a feeling. (I'm not feeling it now, but I am choosing it!)
Parents, we need mercy, don't we? Say yes to His tender care! Say yes to his forgiveness for your sins. Let Him show you His mercy -- ask for it for yourself and others! Let the waves heal your pains and strengthen your faith, hope and love. Pray for those who persecute you. Pray for all those people we see at the hospitals. Pray for teachers and therapists. And let that holy soul next to you pray, too. Jesus is very fond of the "least" -- the "little ones." What power for His good can pour forth in their simple, trusting prayers. "Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us and on the whole world."
(If you want a copy of the Chaplet, shoot me an e-mail and I'll send you one. Or, just go to www.marian.org or www.ewtn.com.)
Blessed be God.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Come Down the Mountain
Welcome to my blog!
My name is Shelly, and I am an orthodox Roman Catholic mother. My husband Jeff is a beautiful musician and excellent journalist. We have one son, John Andrew. You'll hear a lot about him later. For now, know that he is a joy-filled boy with multiple disabilities. Like his name saint, John the Baptist, John has spent his ten years pointing to the Lamb of God in his words, actions, and suffering.
When the screen came up to ask for a blog name, I froze at first. What do I call this? I won't bore you with the endless list of ideas. The practical side of me wanted to catch people looking for resources to catechize children with special needs, since I hope to share what I've discovered! But life is much more than lists.
I prayed and asked the Lord and Our Lady to show me what to call this -- and Down the Mountain came to me. That's the title of one of the many books I've never written -- based on the following dream I had in 1994:
I dreamed that I stood on top of a tall mountain, in an open grassy field. To my left, in the distance, was a grand city. All of my friends from the University of Illinois Newman Center were there. I could hear the singing and the joy. But I knew deep in my heart that I was not meant to go to the city. My mother (the Blessed Mother) stood a short distance to my right, near a path that led down the mountain. I wanted to be with my friends, but I knew that Jesus had gone down that path, to the valley below, and I had to follow Him. So I started down the path, accompanied by Our Mother, who walked on my left. As we walked down the steep, narrow way, I was glad that she guarded my left side, since there was a steep drop-off at the edge of this path. It was frightening, especially when we walked into a cloud and I could see nothing. But we kept walking.
I think of The Transfiguration of the Lord (Mt 17, Mk 9, Lk 9). It was wonderful on that mountain, I expect -- especially since Peter wanted to stay there to celebrate the Feast of Booths! But Jesus went down the mountain, and His disciples followed. A crowd awaited them -- a crowd in need -- a boy with epilepsy. And He foretold his death on Calvary. I wanted to stay on my mountain, but I am His little disciple, so I followed Him down the mountain. And I also found a boy with epilepsy, although I am the one Jesus is healing more than the boy. And I follow my Lord to Calvary, because only through the Cross is there Resurrection.
Blessed by God.
My name is Shelly, and I am an orthodox Roman Catholic mother. My husband Jeff is a beautiful musician and excellent journalist. We have one son, John Andrew. You'll hear a lot about him later. For now, know that he is a joy-filled boy with multiple disabilities. Like his name saint, John the Baptist, John has spent his ten years pointing to the Lamb of God in his words, actions, and suffering.
When the screen came up to ask for a blog name, I froze at first. What do I call this? I won't bore you with the endless list of ideas. The practical side of me wanted to catch people looking for resources to catechize children with special needs, since I hope to share what I've discovered! But life is much more than lists.
I prayed and asked the Lord and Our Lady to show me what to call this -- and Down the Mountain came to me. That's the title of one of the many books I've never written -- based on the following dream I had in 1994:
I dreamed that I stood on top of a tall mountain, in an open grassy field. To my left, in the distance, was a grand city. All of my friends from the University of Illinois Newman Center were there. I could hear the singing and the joy. But I knew deep in my heart that I was not meant to go to the city. My mother (the Blessed Mother) stood a short distance to my right, near a path that led down the mountain. I wanted to be with my friends, but I knew that Jesus had gone down that path, to the valley below, and I had to follow Him. So I started down the path, accompanied by Our Mother, who walked on my left. As we walked down the steep, narrow way, I was glad that she guarded my left side, since there was a steep drop-off at the edge of this path. It was frightening, especially when we walked into a cloud and I could see nothing. But we kept walking.
I think of The Transfiguration of the Lord (Mt 17, Mk 9, Lk 9). It was wonderful on that mountain, I expect -- especially since Peter wanted to stay there to celebrate the Feast of Booths! But Jesus went down the mountain, and His disciples followed. A crowd awaited them -- a crowd in need -- a boy with epilepsy. And He foretold his death on Calvary. I wanted to stay on my mountain, but I am His little disciple, so I followed Him down the mountain. And I also found a boy with epilepsy, although I am the one Jesus is healing more than the boy. And I follow my Lord to Calvary, because only through the Cross is there Resurrection.
Blessed by God.
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