Missionary Mom: The Craziest Vocation I Have Ever Loved
I am certain that my mom’s witness had everything to do with my ability to say yes to missions when I found myself a newly single mom with three small children…
Christmas Memory
Next to the tree, covered with twinkling lights, the manger scene sparkled as we placed our candles around it.
St. Ignatius, My Daily Companion
Near Me
As a little girl, I could always tell when my mom had stubbed her toe. We would hear a crash from the other room followed by, “Praise you, Jesus!” Then, “I’m okay.” When I was learning the Ten Commandments, I asked her if that wasn’t using God’s name in vain? “No,” she answered decidedly. “I am choosing to praise God in my suffering. I really mean it.”
The Comforter
My nineteen-year-old son called me from his mission in Peru a couple of weeks ago. He was sick in bed and groaning occasionally with discomfort as he talked cheerfully about his work. I couldn’t reach him through the mail, couldn’t reasonably fly to see him. I wanted to teleport there and cook him soup, bring him to the doctor, hold him and pray over him. I wanted so badly to comfort him.
Mercy and Melted Ice Cream
Instead of cleaning out my freezer, I could have been looking over the shredded remains of our home. I could have been facing the loss of everything we own. God protected us from that devastation, and although I rejoiced for a day or so, I immediately fell back into self-pity over a few hours of gross housework? How quickly I forget!
