the saints, my hair, and why my cooking is leading souls to heaven
Friday, already? Crazy. And not complaining. But honestly, where do the days and hours and minutes even go?
I spent most of the week thinking about the saints and thinking about the souls in purgatory. And thinking about my hair. Which I chopped off. Because it always gets to that point where it is not long and it is not short, it is just stupid. And I am too old to pull off that growing out stupid stage. I have enough stupid in my life. I don't need to suffer through stupid hair.
But back to the saints and the souls in purgatory.
I was over here the other day, talking about the saints, in case it appeared like I dropped off of the face of the earth this week. Actually, it was a re-post...from over a year ago. So I guess I did drop off of the face of the earth. But I am back. And it was good for me to look back on that post, because when it was written, this idea of praying hard to the saints, and forming "teams" of heavenly champions to cheer on my children and loved ones, well...it never fully happened. I do call on certain saints, every now and again....the usual cast of characters...Saint Therese, Saint Monica, Saint Sebastian, Saint Anthony, Saint Paul, Blessed Virgin Mary....you know, the all stars, to help out with whatever current poop is flying around the house. But I have not been as intentional with it as I had hoped. My flame always starts out really high and bright...and then...something happens...I don't know. I think I get distracted by my hair. And then the flame dies. Why is being intentional with things that matter so darn difficult?
Of course making the hair appointment and getting it cut was seen to fruition. Really got my eye on the prize over here.
I did get back on Jennifer Fulwiler's Saint's Name Generator yesterday, and in true fashion...I wasn't thrilled with the Saint it gave me. (no idea what I am talking about? Head on over to the link and check it out) But I ignored the temptation to choose another one...and I am going with it. Probably. That said, I am also thinking about getting to know my confirmation Saint, Saint Cecilia, who I chose because I loved to sing and she is the Patron Saint of music, but other than that little fun fact....I do not know her at all. And when I think about that...it makes me sad. And I wonder, how many kids out there, how many adults out there, chose a Saint for confirmation...and know nothing about them? Have zero relationship with them? And sure, a relationship with a dead person might sound crazy...but is it??? I actually don't think so. Actually, I probably have crazier reationships with those that are still alive.
My sweet Annie goes on a confirmation retreat tonight. She chose Saint Dymphna as her saint. She has loved this saint since she was little, because she had seen her picture in a children's book of saints, and she thought she looked like Sleeping Beauty. And Annie loves beauty. And Annie loved princesses. And Dympna's hair?? She knocks it out of the park. So it made total sense. Years later, when having to write an essay on why she chose her saint, I thought...well, this ought to be interesting. But much to my surprise, she wrote that she chose Saint Dymphna, the patron saint of mental illness and anxiety, because of her own experience of being at Sandy Hook Elementary School, on the day of the shooting, and even more so...because of the years of anguish, and unrest that have followed. That continue to follow. That are following, still. And I do not believe, not even for a hot second, that her finding Saint Dymphna, years ago, when life was easy and innocent and nothing but pink dresses and sparkly crowns, was a coincidence. I believe that Saint Dymphna, found my little princess...and that she is walking with her, and my entire family, on this very day. Oh, Saint Dymphna, pray for us.
So yes. I love the Saints in heaven. We ought to get to know them. And then...there are the souls.
Yesterday, on All Souls Day, I read something in my devotional that hit me hard. It fascinates me every day how little I actually know about my cradle Catholic faith. In short, it said that the souls in purgatory....(and they are there to be purified so that they are worthy to be in the presence of God...) can do nothing. They can not pray for themselves. WE HAVE TO PRAY FOR THEM. People, I read this, and almost died on my couch. Now, I really have no idea what purgatory looks like...I always picture lots of couches and magazines....like the waiting area at my hair salon. And well, it is probably not like that at all. I just know it is not as good as heaven, but it is way better than hell. And most likely, it is where I will be for a very, long time. God willing. So the realization that I can not pray my way out of purgatory??? HORRIFYING. Seriously. Talk about having no control over anything! We are fully dependent on the prayers of the living. And when this truth sunk in, when I prayed through the fear, I have to say...the cross that I carry? It's purpose was never made more clear. All the worry, all the pain, all the anguish of my heart...I offered it up as prayer for the souls in purgatory. I used it for good. I took what feels like it is killing me, to save others. Not because I am some great martyr and saint. Because I am not. More like, I have reached the point where the carrying feels so endless, and so pointless, that my choice is I can grow bitter and struggle beneath the weight of it all, or, I can grow grateful and offer it to lighten somebody else's load...use it as the golden ticket to heaven for some soul, who quite possibly, is not being prayed for by anyone. The motive is not entirely selfless, as often, my motives go. Working on that, though. I have a long road ahead to sainthood. Pray for me, please....
And so I shared all of this with Annie at breakfast...not my selfish motives, but the idea of praying for the souls...and asked her to please be sure to pray everyday for them; to offer up any trial or obstacle she runs into, as a prayer for the souls. Last night at dinner, when I gave her a bowl of bland ravioli, and told her we had no parmesan, she slowly lifted the pasta up to her mouth and whispered, "I'll offer this up for the souls."
SHE OFFERED UP MY COOKING.
Good thing my dinners stink every single night....my lack of cooking skills and the zero desire to create anything remotely appetizing to feed my loved ones is going to save hundreds of thousands of souls.
You're welcome.
"Eternal Father, I offer You the most precious blood of your Divine Son, Jesus, in union with the Masses and said throughout the world today, for all the holy souls in Purgatory, for sinners everywhere, for sinners in the universal church, those in my own home and within my family. Amen."
