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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)

Friendship, Gratitude

Shoulders

Carrie Sue Barnes

“Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up, as indeed you do.” (1 Thessalonians 5:11)

Oh what would I do without friends? Shoulders to hug, shoulders to lean on, shoulders to laugh on, shoulders to cry on. I am feeling utterly grateful for them today. There is an aspect of loneliness to the situation I’m dealing with right now that could overwhelm me if I allow it. It could obscure the reality that I am not alone, that I am well loved.

Friends are God’s greeting cards; His notes of well-wishes and encouragement, intended to give you a smile, a sigh of relief and a bit of confidence that all will come right.

Faith, Friendship, Holiness, Personal Reflection

Questioning

Carrie Sue Barnes

A situation has arisen that has me questioning nearly everything. My motives and intentions, my ability to love as I ought to love, my friendships, my work; I feel like I’m being subjected to a scrutinizing exam to which I have none of the answers. That all sounds a bit dramatic which is something I don’t like to hear in my own words. I tend to get that way when I am feeling this low. Let’s put it this way: it’s tough to be hated. How am I to react to that? Apology, guilt, shock, sadness, anger, defensiveness – each of them have marched into my heart and are taking turns at the top of the stack.

Of course the words of Christ keep flashing into my brain, “turn the other cheek”… and the work of mercy to bear wrongs patiently. This isn’t to say I have no responsibility in this situation or that I am wholly without guilt. Yet I have never felt more keenly what Christ was talking about, that there would be circumstances that call for meekness instead of anger, patience instead of rash reactions, sacrifice for reparation instead of defense of pride. Only He knows what I’ll need in order to actually do those things; they certainly aren’t going to come out of my own strength or goodness.

For now I’d settle for some confidence in the “this too shall pass” mantra.

Books, Intentionality

One Good Thing About This World

Carrie Sue Barnes

The rain is landing percussively on the office building’s roof and dancing on the adjacent blacktop. It is a rhythmic sound of spring and it is making me smile as I putter through the usual Thursday tasks on my desk. It is spring! For it does not rain in winter, not where I live. The trees have that stripped naked look which only spring can cause. I am daydreaming of tennis matches at the park and bike rides on the county trail. Those activities are still a ways off but I find it easy to believe they will be here in a blink of an eye while I listen to this snowbank melting rain.

I’m starting over on a few things today. The daily workout routine I committed myself to but let slide during the last several days (with good reason; I had a newborn nephew to visit and hold instead of make time for exercise); the fasting from TV for Lent which I cheated on yesterday because I just could not forgo the season finale of Psych; chapter 13 of The Mercy Hour and the critical plot juncture therein; praying Morning Prayer each day before work (why do I convince myself I’ll get through the day okay without starting it in prayer? So lame.); deterimned patience with a few particulars of life that I cannot do much about at present (impatience has been reigning supreme lately)… What would life be without these “starting over” days?

“That is one good thing about this world… there are always sure to be more springs,” remarked Anne Shirley and I must agree. We live prodigal lives. Spending thriftlessly our time and energy, indulging in what will not satisfy, and having to return again and again to what will. We must cycle round to spring before we reach the end of five, ten or all of our years and realize we lingered in winter because it was easier to stay there. Newness and freshness can be encircling us and we stay tucked under our coverings of old habits and weaknesses.

The other night I stretched out on my bed for a good think after reading another chapter of one of my favorite books, I Capture the Castle. I thought about the layers of effects that book has had on me. While reading a favorite chapter I’d realized I wasn’t quite feeling what I’d felt in the past about the story. Not a lesser reaction or affection, but different. Instantly this realization produced sadness and a wish for all that I’d ever thought and felt about the book to remain the same. It took some effort to accept that this was neither possible nor preferable. For an effect to be efficacious, for a change to make change, there must be a result. There must be new aspects to my thoughts and feelings if, as I claim, this book really did have ramifications on my thoughts and feelings. The book, of course, is only one example. An adventure, a job, a friendship, a prayer, any undertaking… they change us (or should) and yet it is so easy to mourn the “old me” that changed instead of rejoicing in what is made new.
Catholicism, Holiness, Jesus

The Crown of Sweetness

Carrie Sue Barnes

I listened in on Heaven today. In a little wooden pew in the echoing chapel of the Carmelite monastery in Denmark, WI, I listened. Hidden from view, the nuns sang their prayers to the Lord. They could not see us; we could not see them. They did not sing for us; they were not performing. They prayed with heartfelt sincerity and seraphic voices. Beauty seemed to cascade over the high open spaces of the chapel, lulling me into peace. My mind was raptured by images of the Bridegroom rejoicing over His bride. How the Lord must delight in the devotion of these humble, holy women. They are wholly His. He treasures them, thinks them beautiful, loves them with His tender heart.
“devotion is the crown of sweetness, the queen of virtues, the perfection of charity. If charity is milk, devotion is the cream; if charity is a plant, devotion is the flower; if charity is a precious stone, its brilliance is devotion; if charity is a costly balsam, devotion is its fragrance, an odor of sweetness, which consoles men and makes the Angels to rejoice.” St. Francis de Sales

Midwest, Scripture

Sunlight

Carrie Sue Barnes

I am soaking in this sudden flood of sunshine like the driest of soils. The five day forecast: mostly sunny, mostly sunny, mostly sunny, mostly sunny, mostly sunny. We may hit 40 degrees in northeastern WI by Friday. March does not always arrive with such a glorious meterological upswing. This March (or its first week at the very least) seems to know better than to behave otherwise.

As any move toward Spring is apt to, this March appears to be busting at the seams with potential. Melting, greening, growing – true to the season, true to the peak of Lent, true to my life at present. Lent is plunging me into the goodness of serving and the necessity of trust. God’s graces are bearing new fruit, restoring in me the joy of soul that used to sing of its own accord.

I suppose this mood is nothing unusual. Yellow sunlight pouring through cold window panes has this feverish effect on most people. Yet, I do feel most unusual. No, unusual is not the word. I feel younger than at the start of winter, or even at the start of last fall, summer or spring. I am regressing in the best sort of way, to a better version of myself, a truer rendering. My, this is hard to capture and communicate! I feel… I feel like a walking psalm.
~

My heart overflows with a goodly theme…
Thou dost show me the path of life; in thy presence there is fulness of joy, in thy right hand are pleasures for evermore…
Restore to me the joy of thy salvation…
I will awake the dawn!
The pastures of the wilderness drip, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy…
So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom…
I hear a voice I had not known: “I relieved your shoulder of the burden; your hands were freed from the basket. In distress you called, and I delivered you; I answered you in the secret place of thunder”…
~
Writing

Tired of Everything Sensible

Carrie Sue Barnes

Chapter twelve of The Mercy Hour is proving to be a challenge. I feel beastly putting my lead character through such lows. I’m writing her into restoration but it’s a long road when she starts from such a broken state. My determination remains as high as the challenge though. The experience of writing this book is remarkably different from the first time around. Full of Days was so experimental, riding on the question, “Could I actually do this?” From the most well-intentioned folks, I heard again and again that “just that you’re trying” is impressive enough. I was encouraged to be proud of the attempt no matter the result. I waffled on how I felt about such comments. Sometimes the trying really was enough, or nearly. This time? This time I want to laugh at anyone who resorts to those handouts of edification. The question of whether I can has been answered. It is only about whether I will and how well.

My imagination is spilling over. I’d like to tuck myself away in an upstairs room with a window seat and a good lamp. As Anne Shirley so aptly put it, “I just feel tired of everything sensible and I’m going to let my imagination run riot for the summer.” But I think I’ll start with spring.