Author: Carrie Sue Barnes

Carrie Sue Barnes is a fiction author and blogger who fell in love with creative writing as a grade schooler in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. She resides now in Wisconsin with her family, often pulling her love for the Midwest into her writing. Carrie Sue's debut novel, The Hidden Legacy, was released in 2018 by Bold Vision Books to strong reviews. Since then, she has published several short stories and continues to write short fiction and faith-inspired reflections on this site. Carrie Sue loves reading, kayaking, hugging her children and friends, rewatching The Office, and connecting with readers in person and on social media.
Catholicism, Easter, Jesus

Keeping Vigil

Carrie Sue Barnes

“Are you sure He said three days? Maybe you’re remembering wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure. Wish I was wrong though.”

I wonder if any such conversation occurred between the disciples on that first Holy Saturday. It is the full day of Christ being dead in the tomb. The day of waiting, trying to avoid doubt, remembering all the things He said and promised. It must have been a terribly long day. If I were in that locked room with Mary and the eleven remaining disciples, I’d probably have been grumbling with impatience. “Why not this morning? Yesterday and last night were awful enough, why must Jesus make us wait any longer? If He’s coming back as He said He would, why not this morning? It’s the sabbath, after all, so wouldn’t today be appropriate? What is tomorrow? Sunday? Sundays mean nothing to us. He should have risen today.” It’s sad how easily I can imagine myself making these comments.

But with the death and Resurrection of Christ, God was doing something entirely new. Truly Sunday meant nothing to the world in the days when Christ walked the earth. The pagan religions certainly held it in no special regard, it was simply another day of the week. The Jewish people had their holy sabbath from Friday sundown through Saturday. What was Sunday to them? This reality in itself reveals the radical newness of the divine work of the Paschal Mystery. With the Resurrection, God gave us a new holy day. He sanctified Sunday as the weekly anniversary of His defeat of sin and death, making it a great high feast for all who belong to Christ. The influence of Christ is unstoppable and so we find Sunday to be ‘different’ from all other days of the week even among those who do not worship God or practice the Chrsitian faith.

Indeed God did something new and when God does something new it is on His terms – His wise and perfect terms. His terms often involve plenty of waiting time for our part. With the waiting comes a choice: grumble against God’s ways, perhaps mysterious, inconvenient or difficult, and try impatiently to move things along by our own will or keep vigil. The two approaches to waiting could not be more different. Keeping vigil as we wait upon the Lord to fulfill His promises and carry out His will implies so much. Hope- for why keep vigil if you have not the hope that what you are waiting for will come through in the end? Trust and surrender- placing that which we wait for into the hands of God, into the secure and steady grip of His love. Patience- refusing to demand God perform on our terms, we peacefully allow Him to take the lead, make the move and direct the work. A Prayerful Spirit- our vigil might not be free of questions or doubts or pain, but by prayer we bring all of that to the feet of our Lord; “with confidence [we] draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16).

This is a day of vigil. Indeed, each day is opportunity to keep vigil for we are all waiting on the Lord. For answers to prayers, for guidance, for mercy and ultimately for Him to welcome us into eternal life, we keep vigil. On the wood of the Cross we kneel at the feet of the enthroned Resurrected Christ.
Catholicism, Easter, Jesus

A Good Night

Carrie Sue Barnes
The patio door is open and there is a soft shower falling on the wood of the deck. It is the accompaniment to my thoughts. The weather has had 4 different faces in the course of this Good Friday and I have to say that this is my favorite so far.

Good Friday seems so purposely paced compared to the busyness that will come tomorrow and the rejoicing celebration waiting for us on Sunday. I can almost feel the Father’s hand on my shoulder, slowing me down as He points toward the Cross. “Do not pass it by unobserved. Look upon it. Look upon my Son. Let it sink in. There is so much wonder, so much greatness in Easter that cannot be perceived if this is not first observed. Don’t skip ahead in the story. The glory that eclipses suffering will come soon enough; enter into the suffering first. The suffering that was for you, the suffering that emptied my Son of life, the suffering that looked like defeat to all without faith; this is what digs the depths found in the Resurrection.”

See from His Head, His Hands, His Feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet?
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
(from “Crucifixion to the World by the Cross of Christ” by Isaac Watts)

Catholicism, Easter, Jesus

Upon Holy Thursday Night

Carrie Sue Barnes

I really, really wanted to write a Holy Thursday blog. The Triduum – these most holy days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday – is the peak of my year each year. It is the culmination of so much work and prayer and efforts and more work for the RCIA process. It is approached via 40 days of sacrifice and contemplation. It is the summit of this strenuous walk through the mysteries of faith that takes place in each liturgical year.

I’ll be honest though, in my heart I feel like I’m still roaming the valley below rather than nearing the summit. I don’t like writing from the valley. At Mass tonight, the tension between the difficult and unresolved and the blessed and wondrous was nearly too much for me. I find now that I am unable to succinctly say all that I’d like to say. And maybe that’s alright. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe I ought to just focus on one thing tonight. For the sake of a little peace of heart and because I won’t be able to think straight for too much longer as the nighttime pain reliever is beginning to do battle with this monstrous headache of mine.

What I kept coming around to as I contemplated Holy Thursday and as I prayed at Mass was the incredible gift that the priesthood has been to me. I’m not even talking broad spectrum, ‘the Church could not survive without the priesthood’ appreciation. I could expound upon the necessity of the priesthood, the beauty and gift of Christ’s ministers, the indispensible link between them and the Sacraments. But such catechetical themes aren’t actually on my mind. Today I gave a lot of thought to my friends, the priests.

Among people of my aquaintance, and I’m sure this is true for so many, there are plenty of individuals who either have no personal experience with priests, off-putting experiences with priests, or downright negative experiences with priests. Each time I discover this to be true of someone I am struck with fresh force by how radically this is not true for me. In my 28 years, I have accumulated innumerable holy encounters, blessed friendships, and upbuilding influences all through priests.

Fr. Ray Zuegner
Fr. Mike Steber
Fr. Dave Pivonka
Fr. Dan Pattee
Fr. Robb Jurkovich
Fr. Mike Chenier
Fr. Robbie Favazza
Fr. Jay Mello
Fr. Mark Vandersteeg

That’s my little litany, which I am certain is missing some important names. The presence of these men in my life at various stages and circumstances is a simple matter of Christ making Himself present to me. As teachers, as preachers, as friends, these men deserve my thanks and respect, my prayers and service.

Christ is my priest – my High Priest. He ministers to me; He extends grace and forgiveness to me; He admonishes and encourages me; He challenges me with truth; He intercedes for me; He works for my eternal salvation. Christ is my priest, and He shares His priesthood with men of this world that He might continue to walk among us and lay down His life for us.

“If we had faith, we would see God hidden in the priest like a light behind glass, like wine mixed with water.” (St. John Vianney, Patron of Priests)

Faith, Scripture

A Voice Shall Sound

Carrie Sue Barnes

Each morning I start my day with three things: a shower, St. Patrick’s Lorica prayer, and reading the day’s Mass readings and a meditation on them. I don’t function well without the shower first. When I skip the prayer and Scriptures, the morning might go alright but the rest of the day seems to fall apart. Starting my day with God and His Word, that’s the anchor of my day. On the days when I set it aside and go about my business without paying heed to the Lord, in the back of my mind I know I’ve done myself a disservice. Pride can rationalize so many things, including excusing myself from prayer, but it can’t truly silence the Holy Spirit who dwells in me.

Yesterday morning the meditation was on the first reading, from Isaiah, and it closed with a little prayer. The words of the prayer were simple enough yet they stopped me in my tracks. “Increase my perception of your power, of your plan…” That phrase has been sounding in my ears since I read it. “Increase my perception…” Not speak louder, Lord, or move in bigger ways, or give me more knowledge of your plans, or be clearer in your guidance. Increase my perception; I feel like someone has physically turned me to look upon the same horizon from a new direction.

For one, this perspective on the “I need to know You’re near and You’re active in my life” prayer has me breathing a long sigh of relief. Like standing in a cool, steady shower after weeks of heat, I am fortified. The question of whether He’s near, whether He’s moving and acting and working and blessing – that question isn’t even necessary. It’s a matter of perceiving God – standing in the stronghold of confidence in Him, awakening my senses to Him.

For another, it casts a light on something I must face. To perceive another’s nearness or handiwork, without them announcing it, requires a great deal of familiarity. I can’t recognize one of Bach’s “Unacccompanied Cello Suites” used in a television commercial if I haven’t listened carefully to those compositions again and again. I can’t see a small painting and know it’s a detail of a Monet if I haven’t already looked upon the larger work of art. I can’t hear the influence of St. Thomas Aquinas in my friend’s discussions if I haven’t had at least a bit of experience with his work myself. The correlation between perception of the Lord and familiarity with Him is indisputable. And my familiarity with the Lord – not so much knowledge of Him or a personal history of experiences but ‘in the present’ intimacy – is not what it once was. As I consider my perception of His presence and movements, I know this is true. Faced with this admission, I found myself at the Eucharistic chapel at 10 o’clock last night. I just needed to be near Him. As I sat before my Savior, I thought about how amazingly easy it used to be to perceive His closeness, notice His movements, hear His voice, detect His guiding hand, rest in His protection… I could blame plenty of things in the last several years for robbing me of that intimacy, and while they all might rightfully carry a share of that blame I know that ultimately I didn’t fight for it.

I feel like I’m fighting now. My senses are heightened. The prayer, “Lord, increase my perception of You,” is repeated. This morning I found myself praying differently than I have for months, maybe even years. Lord, grant me the grace I need for today; the grace for the spiritual battle of today; the protection I need today; the mercy I require today; the clarity I need today; the wisdom for living today; the faith, hope and love in order to believe, trust and serve the way You call me to today. Lord, increase my perception of You today. Not Your plan for my future, not the blessings I’m looking for ‘someday’ but only what You are doing, how you are guiding, what you are asking of me here and now.

“For thus said the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel: By waiting and by calm you shall be saved, in quiet and in trust your strength lies… The Lord will give you the bread you need and the water for which you thirst. No longer will your Teacher hide himself, but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher, While from behind, a voice shall sound in your ears: ‘This is the way; walk in it,’ when you would turn to the right or to the left.”
(Isaiah 30:15, 20-21)
Family

In a Fortnight

Carrie Sue Barnes
I was about to type “In Two Weeks” as the post title but then realized this was a prime opportunity to use the sorely neglected term, “fortnight.” Anyway… What’s happening in a fortnight, you ask? Well, my sister and one of our best friends are flying to Beijing, China. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around this yet. Jessica (that’s my sister) has gone on some extensive, out of the country journeys but never one that will quite literally land her a day apart from her life here. (The whole 13 hour time difference truly baffles me. I mean, I get it but I don’t really get it.)

Jessica and Amy are traveling to China to serve for two weeks at China Little Flower, a facility that cares for orphans in need of specialized care, abandoned infants, and even babies expected to die but who deserve to be loved and provided for until that happens. The pictures alone for this organization’s website are enough to melt the heart. They are doing amazing, thankless, God-honoring work. It is the sort of work that grabs hold of my sister’s merciful heart.

I guess this blog post is just to state how crazy proud I am of my sister. If I could learn to love as she loves… She has no idea how beautiful she is.

And as long as I’m here and you’re here, it wouldn’t hurt to ask something of you, right? Prayers. Please pray for their safety in traveling, for their jet lag to be as tolerable as possible so they can serve as they desire to serve, and for the children they will encounter during their time at China Little Flower.

If you’d like to learn a little more about this organization, here’s the website link.
And if you’d care to support the rather pricey service trip that Jessica and Amy are taking, please email me at csebsch@hotmail.com with “China Little Flower” in the subject line and I’ll provide Jessica’s mailing address. They’re doing this entirely on their own, not through an organization or sponsorship, and have worked terribly hard to save money and raise money in small ways. They don’t know I’m putting this request on this blog and I didn’t plan on including it when I started this post, but there it is.
Faith, Family, Holiness, Scripture

Leaving It There

Carrie Sue Barnes

To give you an idea of the expansiveness of my family: Yesterday, my oldest nephew turned 25. Today, a nephew somewhere in the middle turned 9. On Sunday, my youngest nephew will be 3 weeks old. There are 4 more nephews and 4 nieces filling the spaces in between those boys. I’ve been an aunt since I was 3 1/2 years old.

I am not the same aunt now as I was then. That’s the thought that came to me as I was writing out yet another birthday card and signed it, “Love, Auntie Carrie.” The manner of my love, the things I’d like to teach them, the ways I hope to be an example, and the wishes and worries I have for them… oh, how that all has changed. This train of thought curved around to other realms of my life – being a sister to my 6 older siblings, a daughter to my parents, a friend to my friends. I considered how much growth is required in order for those relationships to not just endure but to bear fruit. With growth and change and maturity, relationships are richer. Without… it strikes me as unnatural to fight against change and growth for the sake of “keeping things the same.” It’s a losing battle. It doesn’t mean I don’t fall into that well-intentioned mistake at times, but if I take a step back and look at things with some clarity I have to conclude that nothing stays the same and nothing should. There are realities that are constant and lasting but such characteristics do not imply sameness.

The place where I find a paradox is faith. In Scripture we are instructed on the importance of leaving behind the ways of a child in order to mature as adults in Christ (see 1 Corinthians 13) but also the necessity of having faith like a child (see Matthew 18 and Mark 10). I’ve always struggled with that concept of having childlike faith. I’m one for going deeper, for learning and understanding more, for having tangible evidence that I’ve matured in faith. Seeing childishness as a vice in most areas of life, it’s tough to view it as a blessing when it comes to faith. I can explain the concept of childlike faith with my mind but have difficulty practicing it with my heart.

Occasionally I get a heart-reaching glimpse at the truth though. In RCIA class this week I taught on the topic of prayer. A broad topic that encompassed a lot of things. When I teach, I attempt to read the expressions of the candidates as they listen. Blank stares are tough to work with but anything else can be a real help to know if I should continue explaining a point or if it’s time to move on. At this class there was a moment where the need to explain further was blatantly obvious in the face of one candidate. I’d said that there was a significant difference between only bringing our needs to the Lord in prayer versus actually leaving our needs with the Lord in prayer. As I expounded on that statement it dawned on me that here was an instance of having ‘faith like a child.’

When a child, full of trust, brings a need to a parent, the child leaves the need there in Dad’s or Mom’s hands. He has no reason to continue to be bothered by it for he knows that his parent will take care of him. This is easily seen in the child’s faith as well. I have heard the prayers of my nieces and nephews, simple and self-assured. They are not weighed down by the things they have just whispered to God. I, on the other hand, bring plenty of needful requests to God. I have the knowledge that He loves me, that He will care for me, that He loves everyone I might be praying for, and yet I usually go out of the room (so to speak) carrying those same petitions in my arms. It is not so much an entrusting of needs to the Lord as an effort to show them to Him, like I’m making sure He’s aware of them. Being the capable, mature adult that I am (that’s a debate for another time), I go on attempting to answer the petitions myself. I go on striving for resolutions, worrying over dilemmas, dwelling in sorrows. I do not leave them with the Lord! How very, very unchildlike of me.

I am not promoting a lack of growth in the Christian soul. My faith should not look the same as it did when I was seven or seventeen or even twenty-seven, though that be merely a year ago. My prayer life should not look the same. The shape of the light that Christ radiates through my life should not be the same.

Again, it is not sameness that is to be attempted. This time it is retention.

Retention of the trust I had as a child, of the confidence in the Lord’s love which used to not just sustain me but overflow into rich joy in my soul.

Retention of the willingness to surrender – a willingness that allows me to tumble into the Lord’s warm, capable hands and, when He helps me stand back up, to not pick up the needs and sorrows that fell into His hands along with me.

Catholicism, Faith, Holiness, Jesus, Scripture

On St. Joseph

Carrie Sue Barnes

This week especially I am feeling entirely too wrapped up in myself. If there is any group of people capable of unwrapping a person from himself, so to speak, it is the saints. The saints – the men and women who are heroes of the faith, the holy ones of God. They are those who have reached the destination and reward we hope to reach. This is why they are worth studying, emulating and entreating for their intercession.

Today is the Feast of St. Joseph. This man holds a special place in my heart as the patron of my university household (sort of a faith-based sorority). I overlooked him until those years at Franciscan. This isn’t surprising as St. Joseph is a man easily overlooked. He speaks no words recorded in the Gospels. He appears only in the first chapters of Matthew and Luke and never thereafter. We do not have record of his death. Yet he is the standard for men, for husbands and fathers, indeed for all the lay faithful.

In a world where we are constantly speaking, texting, messaging, etc., silence is not only difficult to achieve but sorely undervalued. We equate silence with stillness. While that can be the case (perhaps needs to be the case more often), stillness is not the only circumstance for silence. For as much as St. Joseph can be called a man of silence, he is equally a man of action. A decision based on righteousness (Matthew 1:19); a change based on a message from God (Matthew 1:24); a journey based on another message from God (Matthew 2:13-14); the actions of Joseph are recorded with great simplicity because his following of God’s will was simple. Discern His will and do it. No arguments, no complaining, no doubting.

His place in the Holy Family as foster-father of Jesus, husband of Mary, protector and provider of the family raises him to be the example for all husbands and fathers. He lays out a gold standard for women waiting for their husbands and women actively serving and loving their husbands. His obedience to the commands of God, humble endurance of hardship, total dedication to Christ, and tender honor of Mary render him a model for every member of the Christian laity.

Joseph, to me, is a man of courageous faith, boldness of spirit, and steadiness of character. He does not do these things loudly or in a manner that garners attention to himself. Joseph is the living, breathing fulfillment of the pledge, ad majorem Dei gloriam – to the greater glory of God.

Oh, St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God, I place in you all my interests and desires. Oh, St. Joseph, do assist me by your powerful intercession, and obtain for me from your divine Son all spiritual blessings, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. So that, having engaged here below your heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most loving of Father. Oh, St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating you, and Jesus assleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him close in my name and kiss His fine head for me and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, patron of departing souls, pray for us. Amen.

(a 16th century (or older) prayer for St. Joseph’s assistance)