prayer

Presence, Grace, Connection

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment

There have been times when I’ve felt God’s presence; at the words of consecration, He is there, sometimes loudly and lovingly, sometimes softly and nurturing, sometimes touching my pain, my grief, my sorrow, my frustration, my unworthiness.

Other times, I’ve felt the presence of God by His seeming absence from my life.

I experienced a very long dark night in which my grief was overwhelming. My cup runneth over with tears that I had no easy explanation for. Those around me simply did the best they could to compensate for my inability to function, and were unable to understand what was going on. I was so full of this darkness that I wasn’t able to react to what was going on around me except with tears, grief, pain, sorrow.

I reached for explanations beyond medicine because part of the philosophy of those I was running with was that medication was a sign of weakness, and we needed to be stronger than that. There was an expectation of needing to measure up, to “man up”, that I was very much aware of being unable to meet.

Looking back with clarity now, I know there were two components to what was happening to me–there was the very much medical imbalance of chemistry in my brain that was creating a recurring loop of sorts. There was also the diabolical component. When there is a weakness present, it makes it easier for those that want to take advantage to do so. The diabolical prefers to allow an individual to do the work on their own behalf, to feed on what is provided, and to stir the coals to keep the fire burning. In my case, this was what I call the three year dark night, although it may have been a longer or shorter time.

Looking back in clarity now, Jesus was beside me the entire time I was there. I was simply so focused on what was going on that I wasn’t able to see that the darkness of my life was allowed to go so far and no further. I loathed the idea of suicide and became even more deeply entrenched in my grief because of that. That was the bar that Christ lowered.

Why did I go through that dark night? What purpose could that pain have served?

The first thing it did was to lay the foundation for me to pursue my vocation. Had I not been in the deepness of that dark night I would not have come out the way I had. In many ways, the people around me didn’t believe for years that it was over–that may have been their own darkness no longer having a way to relate. I remember the almost frustrated way that people saw my sudden impulse to laughter, that wellspring of joy that simply couldn’t be released or sometimes controlled. They would ask, “Why are you laughing?” and I would respond “Would you rather I be crying?” I felt life again.

This was the presence of Grace in my life. I’d been shown a taste of hell, then very quickly lifted from it. Doors began to open, and when I walked through them, I was met with resentment from the people I ran with. “Why is he going to university? What does he think he can achieve?” “Who would ever consider hiring you?”

It didn’t matter. There was no resentment because I was free.

Keeping the connection with Christ was easy in the beginning because it was so pure, so present. I took steps to fulfill my vocation, doors opened for people who were supportive and showed me love. More, I was given a means to recognize trauma I’d experienced. It’s still taking time to work through, to heal. I’m still triggered by events in my life–moments that, in the past I would be punished for, or would push through in fear of the punishment are now met with empathy, compassion, and affirmation.

Prayer is the means by which we maintain the connection with the Divine. This takes the form of the formal prayers like the Mass, the rosary, reading with a mind to the Divine, cultivating silence and listening. Soon snow will be falling around us. When it does, and it’s falling softly and gently, go outside and listen. Things seem muffled. There’s a stillness even in the presence of the noises of the city. That’s what prayer is like, what prayer is meant to do. It’s the finding of stillness in the presence of the noise of the world. It’s not meant to remove the noise, but rather to exist along side the noise without dwelling in it.

That stillness is achieved in many ways. The simplest is quiet, repetitive prayer. Choose a short prayer, a simple prayer. Close your eyes and simple repeat the prayer in your mind, over and over. Do this for a short period to being, maybe 5-10 minutes. As the prayer becomes part of your inner dialogue, practice walking through the day repeating the prayer. In time, this becomes part of who you are. You will go to sleep in the prayer, stirring in the middle of the night with the prayer in your thoughts, waking with the prayer before you. Make the prayer a part of your being by repeating it constantly and consistently.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

My Jesus, mercy.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

Hide me in Your Wounds.

Presence, Grace, Connection

28, 29, 30, 31.

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment

At that time, Jesus said to the crowds of the Jews: Which of you can convict Me of sin? If I speak the truth, why do you not believe Me? He who is of God hears the words of God. The reason why you do not hear is that you are not of God. The Jews therefore in answer said to Him, Are we not right in saying that You are a Samaritan, and have a devil? Jesus answered, I have not a devil, but I honor My Father, and you dishonor Me. Yet, I do not seek My own glory; there is One Who seeks and Who judges. Amen, amen, I say to you, if anyone keep My word, he will never see death. The Jews therefore said, Now we know that You have a devil. Abraham is dead, and the prophets, and You say, ‘If anyone keep My word he will never taste death.’ Are You greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? And the prophets are dead. Whom do You make Yourself? Jesus answered, If I glorify Myself, My glory is nothing. It is My Father Who glorifies Me, of Whom you say that He is your God. And you do not know Him, but I know Him. And if I say that I do not know Him, I shall be like you, a liar. But I know Him, and I keep His word. Abraham your father rejoiced that he was to see My day. He saw it and was glad. The Jews therefore said to Him, You are not yet fifty years old, and have You seen Abraham? Jesus said to them, Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham came to be, I am. They therefore took up stones to cast at Him; but Jesus hid Himself, and went out from the temple.

–John 8:46-59.

Again, I must apologize for not keeping up. It’s been a week. And every year, I look at the numbers of the posts and say to myself “I’ve done something wrong. It can’t be this far ahead. I must have missed a day.”

But I haven’t.

Today is Passion Sunday, the beginning of the strange period of Lent. Today, I covered the crucifix and the statue of the Blessed Mother with purple cloth; the curtains that usually are pulled back to reveal the mural of the life of Christ behind our altar today remained closed. I left the lights turned off over the pulpit and the altar. At home, my husband came into the oratory and helped me to cover the icons behind the altar. I removed the Blessed Sacrament from the monstrance that usually sits on my altar and replaced it with the crucifix, covered in purple. Some icons are exposed still–I need more purple cloth.

During this period of time, when I say the Office or pray Mass, I always tell myself that the coverings don’t really make much of a difference, but by the end of the first or second day I realize I miss them as much as I miss the alleluia. Parts of the Mass today were omitted.

When I was following the Medicine Wheel path, I would go out into the wilderness and fast. It wasn’t isolated–we were supervised, checked on, and on the fourth day without food and water we were called back in for ceremony and a feast to break the fast. On the first day, I’d usually sleep most of the time. I remember feeling cold, tired. Not hungry or particularly thirsty. By the middle of the third day, I would begin to feel achy. And cold. I slept. On the morning of the fourth day, I’d wake up and look at the sun, pace, and wait for people to come. I always thought it was later in the day than it was, and I’d wait…and wait…and wait. When my friend came to bring me and the others back in, there was a sense of relief; sometimes tears, sometimes laughter, and then the feeling of water moving down my throat, splashing in my stomach, the feeling of the cells of my body beginning to rehydrate again.

We are in the Passiontide of Lent. While the images we hold sacred, that give us hope and inspire us are covered, in a weeks time on Palm Sunday, we will be rejoicing and celebrating Christ’s entering Jerusalem: The King of Glory. Four short days after that, we will be experiencing the agony of the Passion, the silence at the end of Good Friday, the anticipation before the Easter Vigil, and the Vigil celebrating the resurrection when the bells shall ring out, the icons and images will be revealed again.

In the coming week, it’s important to pray for those we love, those who have passed, perhaps even those who have yet to come. It’s important to think of those closest to us who give us joy, to experience gratitude for the miniscule in our lives, like a glass of water. It’s important that, in our suffering and fasting, we unite our pains, our sorrows, our terrors, our anxieties with Christ’s passion.

In the week before Palm Sunday, reach out to a loved one you haven’t spoken to in a while. Take a little less food. Make time for prayer. Praying the Rosary in bed will often allow you to fall asleep before finishing: these are spare part prayers. Think of them as prayers that may have been omitted by others that are now being completed by you.

Spend time in silence, with scripture. Even if it’s just five minutes of the day.

28, 29, 30, 31.

9. 10. 11.

Hermit Pete, , , , 2 Comments

At that time, Jesus took Peter, James and his brother John, and led them up a high mountain by themselves, and was transfigured before them. And His face shone as the sun, and His garments became white as snow. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elias talking together with Him. Then Peter addressed Jesus, saying, Lord, it is good for us to be here. If You will, let us set up three tents here, one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elias. As he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and behold, a voice out of the cloud said, This is My beloved Son, in Whom I am well pleased; hear Him. And on hearing it the disciples fell on their faces and were exceedingly afraid. And Jesus came near and touched them, and said to them, Arise, and do not be afraid. But lifting up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only. And as they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus cautioned them, saying, Tell the vision to no one, till the Son of Man has risen from the dead.

–Matthew 17:1-9

What causes a person upon hearing a sound to fall to their knees, when in seeing someone they knew as their teacher transformed before them, glowing brightly, even blindingly?

Many times in the Mass, especially those over the past few days, and those upcoming over Holy Week, we are called to kneel. Our churches typically have kneeling boards on hinges that we can pull down to make it easier to kneel and stand. The congregation I serve, while not having kneeling boards, does have cushions available in the chapel that we use; I looked this week at an image of what the cathedral in Regina used to look like pre-Vatican II. I was shocked to see how stark the sanctuary looks now compared to how it looked before it’s “restoration”–murals were painted over rather than restored, decorative scrolling throughout the sanctuary is now stark cream. Where the high altar once stood is now a void with empty floor, a large clay artwork of the 5 new mysteries of the rosary presented by St. John Paul II takes its place, yet the void between the wooden altar and the space the high altar once occupied is void. It feels like something significant is missing.

I grew up in the United Church of Canada in small town Saskatchewan. Kneeling for prayer wasn’t something I was taught, or a practice that I was even familiar with. I prayed when I laid under my blankets at night, or with the rest of the congregation in church lead by the minister, while the minister’s wife played a quiet background electric organ that became louder and finished right after the “amen”.

While kneeling is not always something we have the opportunity or the ability (it can be so, so painful for me!), we can draw to mind why it is why kneel. We lower ourselves to someone who needs aid, we lower ourselves out of respect, love, devotion. Kneeling, or adopting a position of submission, can, potentially, be part of our deeper practice of prayer–we yield to God, we yield to Christ and His teachings, we yield to moments like the Transfiguration that link Jesus to something more of Heaven than of earth.

9. 10. 11.

7.

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment


At that time, when Jesus entered Jerusalem, all the city was thrown into commotion, saying, Who is this? But the crowds kept on saying, This is Jesus the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee. And Jesus entered the temple of God, and cast out all those who were selling and buying in the temple, and He overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold the doves. And He said to them, It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’; but you have make it a den of thieves. And the blind and the lame came to Him in the temple, and He healed them. But the chief priests and the Scribes, seeing the wonderful deeds that He did, and the children crying out in the temple, and saying, Hosanna to the Son of David, were indignant, and said to Him, Do You hear what these are saying? And Jesus said to them, Yes; have you never read, ‘Out of the mouth of infants and sucklings You have perfected praise’? And leaving them, He went out of the city to Bethany and He stayed there.

Matthiew 21:10-17

Here we have a perfect snapshot of not just Jesus, but of how the movement around Him was making waves. One does not overturn tables and cast out people passively.

I’ve been in conversation with people where they’ve talked about how difficult and how exhausting it is to always turn the other cheek, giving the impression that there is never a reason to question being struck, or in this case, a reason to turn over tables.

But the reality is that, as Christians, we have a moral and ethical responsibility to question when we are struck, be it b words or actions; there are times when we have a moral and ethical responsibility to turn over the tables as it were.

How do we apply this to our prayer life?

When we examine our way of prayer, have we used one form of prayer too much? Do we have moments when we say, “Tonight, I can just light a candle and say a quick word” too frequently? Or do we simply say “next time”?

Jesus in effect is moving barriers between God and the people. He is clearing the world from the sacred, that which may have begun as convenience but is now profane. Immediately after describing what Jesus did in the temple, it shifts to moments of Jesus healing, then those in charge questioning what he’s done.

For us, this might be a momentary choice that lasts only milliseconds, “Will I sit down in prayer, or will I not?”

And then, the voices of our subconscious may question us. They may say, “Are you valid in your faith, or are you a sham?” Imposter syndrome isn’t limited to clergy (although I’ve had my moments of internal struggle with it). How do we have the right, our mind might say, to sit down in prayer given what we did or did not do?

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, you have perfected praise. It struck me that, while we may read this as Jesus speaking about the crowds, He may actually be commenting on the immature spiritual life of the Pharisees who were criticizing Him! The status-quo, unchallenged, limiting the connection between the people with God, and the Pharisees comfortable with that because of the privilege it afforded them, and the way the people were comfortable with it.

Challenge yourself in prayer to see Jesus as more than just a warm, loving figure, but fully God and man, capable of anger, the ability to act, to turn over tables, but then to remain and fill the gap of the money changers selling sacrifice with healing without compensation.

7.

4.

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment

At that time: When it was late, there was a ship in the middle of the sea, and Jesus was alone on land. And seeing his disciples laboring in rowing – for the wind was contrary to them – and about the fourth watch of the night he came to them walking on the sea: and he wished to pass them. But when they saw him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost, and cried out. For all saw him, and were troubled. And immediately he spoke with them and said to them: Trust, it is I, do not be afraid. And he went up to them in the ship, and the wind ceased. And they were more and more amazed within themselves: for they did not understand about the loaves: for their hearts were blinded. And when they had crossed over, they came to the land of Gennesaret, and applied themselves. And when they had come out of the ship, they immediately recognized him: and having traversed that whole region, they began to carry on litters those who were ill, wherever they heard that he was. And wherever he entered, into villages or towns or cities, they laid the sick in the streets, and begged him that they might even touch the hem of his garment: and as many as touched him were saved.

–Mark 6:47-56

Mom tells you to go downstairs to the pantry and get a can of green beans. You go downstairs, confident at how easy this task in fact is. You get downstairs, and suddenly the beans are nowhere to be found. You are looking over what feels like a sea of cans. There is literally everything there except what your mom needs. You return to her, somewhat frustrated, and tell her you can’t find them and they must not be there. She frowns, you both go down to the pantry together, and without hesitation she reaches out and pulls the can of green beans that she needs.

It was there right in front of you and you couldn’t see it.

What makes our heart blind to see what is right in front of our eyes?

It might be that we lack faith in our own experience to know our answers are either factual, or slant to give us something more in line with what we want, or what is more comfortable to us.

It might be that we want someone else to confirm our experience. After all, life is much simpler if someone else is at the helm sometimes.

Or, in the case of our prayer, it may be that we are expecting certain experiences: perhaps we expect a sense of calm, the same routine, or even boredom from what feels like the same words, movements, over and over.

When the disciples “applied themselves”, they recognized Christ. When we apply ourselves in prayer, we recognize that the method itself may be repetitive, may be routine, but the experience will always be different, even if just a bit. There may be days when the water is calm: we enter into prayer, we embrace the experience and what occurs in those moments. Or there may be days when the water is turbulent, our hearts aren’t into it, we can’t come before the Lord or we choose not to. Or we do, and it isn’t until Jesus comes to us.

In any case, applying ourselves means being consistent as possible in the discipline of prayer throughout our day. It also gives us the grace to accept that sometimes, in our most frustrating moments, we need to ask for clarity in the storm: while we may find ourselves straying from our commitments in prayer, always return again, and again if need be.

4.

3.

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment

At that time, Jesus said to His disciples, You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor, and shall hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who persecute and calumniate you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven, Who makes His sun to rise on the good and the evil, and sends rain on the just and the unjust. For if you love those that love you, what reward shall you have? Do not even the publicans do that? And if you salute you brethren only, what are you doing more than others? Do not even the Gentiles do that? You therefore are to be perfect, even as you heavenly Father is perfect. Take heed not to do your good before men, in order to be seen by them; otherwise you shall have no reward with your Father in heaven. Therefore when you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and streets, in order that they may be honored by men. Amen I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be given in secret; and your Father, Who sees in secret, will reward you.

-Matthew 5:43-48; 6:1-4

I’m really blessed to have the ability to sit with the Blessed Sacrament, both in my home oratory and in a local cathedral church while an individual I support goes to choir practice. Last night there was a wedding rehearsal going on when I arrived so I wasn’t able to sit in the pew in front of the tabernacle, but I was able to still be present and in eyesight. As the wedding rehearsal ended and the choir started it’s rehearsal, I began my Holy Hour with the rosary. The priest turned off the lights in the cathedral which startled everyone, including myself, but I found it easy to get past the outward distractions back into my adoration. After the rosary, I prayed Vespers and Compline. Yawning a few times, I’d have to pause; this isn’t something new, in fact I think Our Lord appreciates these kinds of efforts to keep on going even when we are distracted by things like exhaustion.

As of late, when I pray I have intrusive thoughts that pop up. Usually I give them no mind–if they’re regarding a certain situation or individual, I focus the prayer on that situation and think that it’s just my mind doing what it does. Last night when the intrusive thoughts came up, I laughed internally and thought how repetitive the mind can be when wanting to produce distractions. Thoughts of rage, of anger, moments when I was humiliated, or not able to follow through and the subsequent shame and guilt.

These are all enemies. We should not shun them but embrace them and welcome them. In some situations, during prayer when these thoughts arise there’s something we need to see that may give us hope, push us forward, or there may be an unresolved issue that is coming to the surface we need to give thought on, or perhaps act on. Then, there are the intrusive thoughts that are meant purely for distraction from prayer. In any number of forms, sometimes distracting to the point of shaking ones self out of the peace and stillness of prayer, their entire purpose is to create not only distraction, but frustration as well.

In the case of distractions of this type, recognize it’s “just going to be one of those days” and move forward. Return your focus to your prayer, and push through as best as you can.

3.

1.

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment

At that time, Jesus said to His disciples, When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites, who disfigure their face in order to appear to men as fasting. Amen I say to you, they have received their reward. But you, when you do fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not be seen fasting by men, but by your Father, Who is in secret; and your Father, Who sees in secret, will reward you. Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where rust and moth consume, and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither rust nor moth consumes, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.

-Mathew 6:16-21

What motivates us to action?

Many Catholics, Christians, will be attending Ash Wednesday services this morning in order to receive an imprint of ashes on the forehead. This is one of a few outward symbols of our faith, one that is visible publicly. It declares that we have entered the the time of fasting, of penance, of charity, those acts that are characteristic with the time we call Lent.

But what drives us to do this? What is the motivation for our actions?

I have a beta fish on my desk. Each morning, I turn on the light to the tank, greet my fish, and sprinkle some food into the water. Sometimes she eats, lately she’s been picky and she doesn’t. There are also lots of snails in my tank, and I enjoy watching them as well. I made a commitment to the little cube of glass that holds not just water, but life: I committed to make time each day to tend this little glass garden because it gives my joy and peace, especially in the winter months in Saskatchewan where there is nothing green. Looking into this little garden on my desk gives me calm when the world is, generally, chaos and anger these days.

I didn’t commit to do these things because I wanted to document the process, upload videos, and make money from subscribers: I made the commitment knowing that very few people would share the same sense of peace that I receive, but also knowing the peace and joy I would receive would be worth the small sacrifices I’d need to make to commit to the tank. Now as it just so happens, we now have a larger tank in our living room that we’re making into a tropical fish oasis. Plants, snails, and fish will now give not only joy and peace to me, but to my husband as well.

Likewise, commitments to the interior life aren’t mean to be a way at grabbing at glory, or scoring “points” with God. The interior life is meant to be a collection of moments that grant us peace, joy; they are little shelters from the winds and rain. 

I won’t have the opportunity to impose ashes upon my forehead this Wednesday. As a working priest, its often difficult to meet the promises of daily liturgy. Often its just a moment in the morning, a quiet moment at night. When I woke earlier than usual, I had prayer on my mind. In the cell that is my mind, I ran through “Venite adoremus”, the opening psalm prayed before recitation of the Divine Office. I recalled a time when I prayed the entire office, mostly in the cool of the back yard, on my iPad. I remembered the commitment I made to pray Vespers and Compline each night, along with the rosary. I thought back to my visit to the shrine in Akita, Japan, where the Christ through the Blessed Sacrament spoke to me, called me to spend a little more time with Him in the chapel.

Be mindful of what your motivations are, especially in the interior life.

Challenge yourself to question what your motivations are; look deeply into your reasonings, and do not be afraid to question.

Missing a commitment to prayer isn’t a great thing, but it happens. When you do, open the door to finding other opportunities to meet those commitments.

Don’t groan about it as a heavy burden. Remember! This is a burden that is easy, a task that is light.

1.

Fat Tuesday

Hermit Pete, , , , 1 Comment

Yesterday, I read an internet meme that pictured the Blessed Mother as having had intimate relations with a shepherd, claimed it as a virgin birth, and started a religion. The meme was put out by a satanist. When I looked on their active tiktok profile, what I saw was a stream of memes taking pot shots at all religious faiths. 

They were all designed to provoke, defend, argue.

The myth of our age is: when challenged we have to engage, regardless of the costs; that in every situation there is a need to react, mostly without giving thought to consequence. I’m just as guilty as the rest. 

The day before the commencement of Lent is often given to excess, the focus being on the “what” we’re giving up rather than the “why”. This got me thinking about the reasons for this.

Christianity can be a faith of consumption, or it can be a faith of production, or it can be a faith which steps out of the need to consume, to produce, but it was never meant to be a faith that rests in consuming (be it the Sacraments or the need for approval or the need to be safe or the need to hidden or the need to avoid persecution) or producing (faith, safety, a need to be hidden, a need to avoid persecution, a need for power). Christianity is a faith that is meant to transcend these things and rest in the Infinite Possibility of a Being which knows us, which created us, which loves us, Infinitely. 

Those who would engage in argument or provocation for the sake of argument or provocation are operating lower than what we as human beings have the potential to operate as. I’m calling out politicians on all sides of the spectrum of left and right, religious leaders, activists, road ragers (including myself), and anyone else who provokes for the power without considering the consequences (including myself!)

Our faith calls us to consider that, Love steps above the human need to be right, or the shame of being wrong. It calls us to be challenges by beliefs we may hold as canonical that in fact are holding us back from knowing deeper considerations of living. It calls on us to love in the light of this, in the light that the love may be seen as a provocation. It calls on us to be silent, to dis-engage with the mundane and engage with the Divine. When Jesus talked about going into our room, locking the door, and praying to the Father, I think this is what He meant. Leaving behind the world, closing our eyes, mentally praying through memorized prayers, conversational prayer (where we speak, and listen), and then recognizing in the stillness the presence of Love greater than all that is outside the door we have closed to be in our solitude. This is the Franciscan method of contemplative prayer, and I invite you to engage with it during Lent:

Each day I’ll attempt to write on one of the readings of the day. Take up your Bible, in a place of stillness and calm, read quietly. Then, see the image of the reading in your mind, find yourself as a person that is part of it (either observing or actively taking part); let the scene play out. When your mind drifts, slowly re-envision the scene in your mind. As you do this, you will find yourself in a place of quiet where your inner chatter continues but you are drawn to the stillness and the chatter is more of a din in the background. Rest in this place, knowing this is the presence of God, for a few moments. If you wish, mentally pray, converse, but attempt to remain in the stillness and really listen. You may not hear anything, or feel anything: that’s ok. After a few moments in the stillness, return to the space you are in by opening your eyes. Breathe slowly. Journal about your experience if you’re called to do so. Set a timer for 15 minutes to begin with, slowly increasing the time you engage.

While tomorrow is the first day of Lent, the season has been upon us now for several weeks. We have been in preparation for the journey we begin tomorrow when we open the door, step out, and being to move closer to the greatest liturgical celebration of our faith.

Fat Tuesday