My Daddy Strong
?It was my Dad who led me to discover the greatest Father of all
My Dad went home to be with his Heavenly Father on June 15, 1994. Even though he is no longer with me physically, his spirit lives on in my memory. The lessons he taught me throughout my life have helped me to become the person I am striving to be today. He instilled within me a deep respect for all people, young and old alike. Like many things in my life, I had to learn the lesson of respecting people the hard way. I recall the day; I began to talk back to my mother and even stuck out my tongue at her. My Dad was within seeing and hearing distance, and needless to say, I got a spanking and a good talking to about respecting Mom. Now some might say, it was just a childish gesture to stick out your tongue, but to Dad it was very disrespectful and needed to be confronted. I learned my lesson well to respect Mom and other adults in authority.
My Dad was a hard-working, underground miner who worked in the copper mines in Butte, Montana. He believed in hard work and supporting his family to the best of his ability. Mining was dangerous work. He was injured several times in his working career. In 1964, he was injured in a severe mining accident, ending his mining career and his ability to work again.?
This was an extremely difficult time for him and our family. He struggled to cope with the fact that he could no longer work and had to go on disability pay. For a man who was a dedicated provider, husband and father, this was devastating. Dad began to drink a lot, trying hard to drown his troubles in a bottle. However, over a period of months, something began to happen to Dad within his own heart. He quit drinking and began to read the Bible. My Dad, who had only a fifth-grade education, painstakingly began to read and absorb God?s Word into his heart. Day after day, hour-by-hour, he studied and meditated on God?s Word. God changed my Dad?s heart. He began to live each day, with the love of God in his heart.
He enjoyed life to the fullest despite enduring many heartbreaking times, including the loss of a daughter in a car accident when she was 18. My folks were blessed with four grandsons and one granddaughter. As a Grandpa, he had no favorites. Each grandchild felt as if he or she was the apple of Grandpa?s eye.?
Even though the mining accident took away his ability to work, it turned out to be a wonderful blessing for all of us. He had time to spend with each grandchild and give them his full attention and love. Dad taught each of his grandsons how to drive his old Datsun pickup many years before they could legally drive. His mining accident left him with a very noticeable limp which his grandsons all tried to imitate by walking just like Grandpa. It was quite a sight to see Dad and his grandsons walking down the road together?all with obvious limps. They all looked up to Grandpa and wanted to be just like him. He had lots of patience, but best of all, he was took the time to be with each of them, enjoying every moment of the experience.
As a married woman with children of my own, many times I would go to my Dad for advice and encouragement. He would listen with his heart, trying not to judge, but would always encourage me to pray and trust in God to work things out. Through his example, I began to read the Bible too. I have so many precious memories of my Dad. But the most important thing he instilled in me was to place myself daily in the loving presence of my Heavenly Father so I could learn from the greatest Father of them all.
Connie Beckman is a member of the Catholic Writer?s Guild. She desires to encourage Catholic spiritual growth by sharing the truths of the Catholic faith. Beckman shares her joy and love of God at her website www.conniescatholiccorner.com.
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We were all shocked and shattered when my brother announced he wanted to become a priest. It was not just that he wanted to become a priest, but he wanted to become a Cistercian priest. That meant that once he left home, he would never return. My mother was totally bereft. She was proud that her son wanted to be a priest, but why, oh why, did he want to become a monk as well? She did not know what to do, but fortunately, she did know who to turn to. She turned to Gus, a friend since childhood. He himself had left home to become a priest and a monk and was at the time the Abbot of Belmont. The Meaning of Motherhood Gus told her that a mother only really fulfils and completes her motherhood when her love is so great that she allows her child to both choose and follow his own chosen vocation in life, whatever that may mean. He told her this was the sacrifice Mary made when she allowed the Son she had given birth to go His own way and respond to the vocation to which He had been called. My mother felt much better after talking with Gus, or Abbot Williams as he was then. After all, he was a priest and a monk himself and so was able to console and encourage her better than anyone else. Although my brother had been accepted as a prospective monk at Mount Saint Bernard?s, the Abbot asked him to finish his studies in Paris, where he was studying at the Sorbonne. Naturally, he was delighted he had been accepted, because he thought his handicap would have prevented him from becoming a priest?one leg was shorter than the other as a result of polio when he was six. A Terrible Accident Unfortunately, my brother had a terrible accident on the way to his final examinations. Partly due to the iron calliper on his leg, he slipped down the escalator on the Metro, hit his head and was killed instantly. He was only twenty-two. I was seventeen at the time and called out of the school study to be told of the tragedy. When I got home it was to find my mother all but inconsolable. She had already come to terms with the sacrifice she had been asked to make when he chose to become a monk, now she was asked to make another, more complete and final sacrifice that she never thought for a moment would ever be asked of her. Once again, she turned to Abbot Williams for spiritual help. Like Mary, My Mother Became a Priest Abbot Williams told her she was now being asked to be the priest that her son never became. He told her Mary had been a priest and the greatest sacrifice she made was the sacrifice of her own Son. All of Mary's life revolved around selflessly giving her all for the dear Son she had born. Everything had always been for Him and then she had to give absolutely everything, even Him. This was the most perfect and complete sacrifice any mother had to make, and she made it as she stood there at the foot of the cross. My mother never forgot what Gus said to her. It did not take away all the pain, but it did give meaning to it and made it bearable. What helped most was seeing that the sacrifice she had to make was exactly the same sacrifice Mary had to make on Calvary. A Lesson Learned from My mother There is only one true priest and that is Jesus Christ, who made the most perfect sacrifice anyone can make, the sacrifice of Himself. We are priests to the degree in which we share in His priesthood. Throughout His life He offered Himself unconditionally to His Father and for the people His Father had sent Him to serve. We share in His priesthood when we also offer ourselves to the Father, in, with and through Him and offer ourselves to the same family of man He came to serve. That is what my Mother came to see and understand more clearly than anyone else I have known, not just in the way she thought, but in the way she acted. It was a lesson she had to learn at the most painful moment of her life, when she had to share in the sacrifice of Christ in exactly the same way as Mary had. Lessons learned in such moments are never forgotten. They indelibly stain the memory and determine the way you think and act for the rest of your life, for better or for worse. In my mother?s case it was for better not worse, as it was for Mary. For both of them it meant that through their terrible ordeal their motherhood had somehow been refined and deepened to the benefit of other children who looked to them for the motherly love that was always given without measure. I for one know this because I have experienced it for myself and still do. As I look back at the past, it is the more dramatic demonstrations of my mother?s self-sacrificing that stand out in my memory. However, the more I reflect the more I see that her whole life was a continual selfless sacrifice for her family, just as the life of Mary had been. Every day of her life and every moment of her day was given for her children, in a hundred and one different ways, through which she exercised her priesthood, as Mary did in her life on earth. It was little wonder that her three sons all wanted to become priests; after all, they had been living with one all their lives! Selfishness and Sacrifice When the family went to Mass together each Sunday, they saw my mother totally absorbed in what they took all too easily for granted. Their selfishness meant they had too little to offer while she was offering a thousand and one acts of self-sacrifice, made for them during the previous week. This meant my mother received to the measure of her giving, for it is in giving that we receive, and she received in ever-greater abundance with each passing week. This gave her the help and strength she needed to go on giving in the forthcoming week, go on sacrificing for the family that took her all too easily for granted. Without any formal theological education, my mother discovered for herself that the Mass is not only a sacrifice, but also the place where we offer ourselves in, with and through Christ to the Father and something further. It is also a sacred sacrificial meal where we receive, from the One through whom we have offered our sacrifices, the love that He is endlessly pouring out on to, and into, all who are open to receive it. Motherhood was for her, as for so many other selfless, self-sacrificing mothers, a way of participating in the central mystery of our faith. If her daily dying united her to the dying of Christ, it also opened her to receive the love that raised Him from the dead on the first Easter day, empowering her to share what she had received with the family for whom she had given everything. The son she always mourned may never have become the priest he desired, but she more than took his place. The priesthood she exercised would not only inspire her own family but other families as well? families who are still inspired, as I am, by her shining example that will never tarnish. My Brother?s Death Was Not In Vain The death of my dear brother affected me deeply, but his death was not in vain. It inspired me in such a way that I have spent my life writing about him and using him to spread the profound spirituality that attracted him to the monastic life, to inspire others as well. I have spent much of my life writing three major spiritual works. The main protagonist in each work is the hermit, Peter Calvay, who is entirely based on my brother, Peter Torkington. In my imagination, instead of entering the Cistercian order, as he had intended, I simply transferred him to the Outer Hebrides, where he became a hermit. Then, as his spiritual life deepened, he began to help others. If Peter had become a monk his spirituality would have been monastic. However, living as a lay-person enabled Peter to develop for himself a profound lay spirituality based on the spirituality that Jesus Himself lived with His disciples, through whom this spirituality was bequeathed to the early church. This is, of course, of particular help to a modern reader trying to live the Christian life while outside the context of the religious life, like yours truly. If these books help you, as they have helped more than 300,000 readers over the years, then my brother?s death will not have been in vain, nor will the simple spirituality we both learned from our mother.
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A repeated whisper from above, numerous failed attempts?all solved by a children?s story! There is a wonderful tale by Hans Christian Andersen entitled The Steadfast Tin Soldier that I have taken immense pleasure in reading aloud to my daughter, and she, in listening to it. This one-legged tin soldier?s brief existence is marked by tribulation after tribulation. From falling from several storeys to nearly drowning to being swallowed by a fish like Jonah, the handicapped fighter comes to understand suffering quite quickly. Through it all, though, he does not hesitate, falter, or flinch. Oh, to be like the tin soldier! Discovering the Reason Literalists and pessimists might attribute his steadfastness to the fact that he is made of tin. Those who appreciate metaphor will say it is because he has a deep knowledge of his identity. He is a soldier, and soldiers do not let fear or anything, for that matter, steer them from their course. The trials wash over the tin soldier, but he remains unchanged. At times, he admits that if he were not a soldier, he would do such and such?like shed tears?but those things he did not do, for it would not be in line with who he was. In the end, he is cast into a stove where, reminiscent of Saint Joan of Arc, he is engulfed in flames. His remains are later found by the housemaid, reduced to?or one might say, transformed into?a perfectly shaped tin heart. Yes, the fires that he so resolutely endured molded him into love! Perhaps, all that is required to become steadfast is to know one's identity? The question then is, what is our identity? I am, and you are, too, a daughter (or son) of the King of the Universe. If only we know and never cease to claim this identity, we too can be steadfast on the journey toward becoming like Love Himself. If we go about our days knowing that we are princesses and princes gallivanting about our Father's castle, what would we fear? What would make us quake, turn back, or crumble? No falls or floods or flames could make us step aside from the path toward sainthood that has been so lovingly laid before us. We are beloved children of God, destined to become saints if we only stay the course. The trials will become joys because they will not pull us from our path but, if endured well, will ultimately transform us into that which we long to be! Our hope and joy can always remain, for even if all about us is hardship, we are still beloved, chosen, and made to be with the Father in Heaven for all eternity. Sorrows into Joy! When the Angel Gabriel, on his mission to receive Mary?s fiat, sees Mary's fear, he tells her: ?Do not be afraid, for you have found favor with God.? (Luke 1:30) What glorious news! And how glorious that we, too, have found favor with God! He made us, loves us, and desires for us to be with Him always. So, we, like Mary, need not be afraid, no matter what difficulty comes our way. Mary steadfastly accepted all that came her way, knowing that His Providence is perfect and that the salvation of all mankind was at hand. She stood at the foot of the Cross in the moments of her greatest suffering and remained. In the end, though Mary?s heart was pierced by many swords, she was assumed into Heaven and crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth, to be with Love forever. Her steadfastness and loving endurance through suffering paved the way to her Queenship. Yes, the sorrow of the Pieta became the glory of the Assumption. The martyrdom of so many holy men and women made them a part of the Heavenly host praising the Lord forevermore. Like our Mother and the Saints, may we accept the grace to be steadfast, standing tall amidst sorrow, flames, and all other circumstances that try to divert us from the Lord?s open arms. May we be firmly rooted in our identity as children made in the Father's image. May we, like the renowned poet Tennyson once wrote: ?Be strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!? May we, after it all, become like Love.
Through the darkest valleys and toughest nights, Belinda heard a voice that kept calling her back. My mother walked out on us when I was around eleven. At the time, I thought that she left because she didn't want me. But in fact, after years of silently suffering through marital abuse, she couldn?t hold on anymore. As much as she wanted to save us, my father had threatened to kill her if she took us with her. It was too much to take in at such a young age, and as I was striving hard to navigate through this difficult time, my father started a cycle of abuse that would haunt me for years to come. Valleys and Hills To numb the pain of my father?s abuse and compensate for the loneliness of my mother?s abandonment, I started resorting to all kinds of ?relief? mechanisms. And at a point when I couldn?t stand the abuse anymore, I ran away with Charles, my boyfriend from school. I reconnected with my mother during this time and lived with her and her new husband for a while. At 17, I married Charles. His family had a history of incarceration, and he followed suit soon enough. I kept hanging out with the same bunch of people, and eventually, I, too, fell into crime. At 19, I got sentenced to prison for the first time?five years for aggravated assault. In prison, I felt more alone than I had ever been in my life. Everyone who was supposed to love and nurture me had abandoned me, used me, and abused me. I remember giving up, even trying to end my life. For a long time, I kept on spiraling downwards until I met Sharon and Joyce. They had given their lives to the Lord. Though I had no clue about Jesus, I thought I'd give it a try as I didn't have anything else. There, trapped inside those walls, I started a new life with Christ. Falling, Rising, Learning? About a year and a half into my sentence, I came up for parole. Somehow in my heart, I just knew I was going to make parole because I'd been living for Jesus. I felt like I was doing all the right things, so when the denial came back with a year set off, I just didn't understand. I started questioning God and was quite angry. It was at this time that I was transferred to another correctional facility. At the end of the church services, when the chaplain reached out for a handshake, I flinched and withdrew. He was a Spirit-filled man, and the Holy Spirit had shown him that I had been hurt. The next morning, he asked to see me. There in his office, as he asked about what had happened to me and how I was hurting, I opened up and shared for the first time in my life. Finally, out of prison and in private rehab, I started a job and was slowly getting a hold on my new life when I met Steven. I started going out with him, and we got pregnant. I remember being excited about it. As he wanted to make it right, we got married and started a family. That marked the beginning of probably the worst 17 years of my life, marked by his physical abuse and infidelity and the continuing influence of drugs and crime. He would even go on to hurt our kids, and this once sent me into a rage?I wanted to shoot him. At that moment, I heard these verses: ?Vengeance is mine, I will repay.? (Romans 12:19) and ?The Lord will fight for you? (Exodus 14:1), and that prompted me to let him go. Never a Criminal I was never able to be a criminal for long; God would just arrest me and try to get me back on track. In spite of His repeated efforts, I wasn't living for Him. I always kept God back, although I knew He was there. After a series of arrests and releases, I finally came home for good in 1996. I got back in touch with the Church and finally started building a true and sincere relationship with Jesus. The Church slowly became my life; I never really had that kind of a relationship with Jesus before. I just couldn't get enough of it because I started to see that it's not the things that I've done but who I am in Christ that's going to keep me on this road. But, the real conversion happened with Bridges to Life*. How can I Not? Even though I hadn?t been a participant in the program as an offender, being able to facilitate in those small groups was a blessing I hadn?t anticipated?one that would change my life in beautiful ways. When I heard other women and men share their stories, something clicked inside of me. It affirmed me that I was not the only one and encouraged me to show up time and again. I would be so tired and worn out from work, but I would walk into the prisons and just be rejuvenated because I knew that that was where I was supposed to be. Bridges to Life is about learning to forgive yourself; not only did helping others help me become whole, it also helped me heal?and I am still healing. First, it was my mother. She had cancer, and I brought her home; I looked after her for as long as she stayed until she passed away peacefully at my home. In 2005, my father?s cancer came back, and the doctors estimated he had at most six months. I brought him home too. Everybody told me not to take in this man after what he did to me. I asked: ?how can I not?? Jesus forgave me, and I feel that God would want me to do this. Had I chosen to hold on to the bitterness or hatred toward my parents for the abandonment and the abuse, I don't know if they would have given their lives to the Lord. Just looking back over my life, I see how Jesus kept pursuing me and trying to help me. I was so resistant to feeling what was new, and it was so easy to stay in what was comfortable, but I am grateful to Jesus that I was able to finally completely surrender to Him. He is my Savior, He is my rock, and He is my friend. I just cannot imagine a life without Jesus. * A faith-based program ministering to victims and offenders alike, focusing on the transforming power of God?s love and forgiveness l
We all wrestle with God at one point or another, but when do we really attain peace? Recently, a struggling friend told me: ?I do not even know what to pray for.? She wanted to pray but was growing weary of asking for something that was not coming. I immediately thought of Saint Peter Julian Eymard?s Eucharistic Way of Prayer. He invites us to model our prayer time after the four ends of the Mass: Adoration, Thanksgiving, Atonement, and Petition. A Better Way Prayer is more than asking, yet there are times when our needs and worries about our loved ones are so pressing that we do nothing but ask, ask, plead, and then ask some more. We might say: ?Jesus, I leave this in your hands,? but 30 seconds later, we grab it right out of His hands to explain why we need it again. We worry, fret, and lose sleep. We don?t stop asking long enough to hear what God might be trying to whisper to our weary hearts. We go around like this for a while, and God lets us. He waits for us to wear ourselves out, to realize that we are not asking Him to help us, but we are trying to tell Him how we think He needs to help us. When we grow tired of wrestling and finally surrender, we learn a better way to pray. In his letter to the Philippians, Saint Paul instructs us on how we should approach our petitions to God: ?Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.? (4:6-7) Combat the Lies Why do we worry? Why do we get anxious? Because, like Saint Peter, who stopped looking at Jesus and began to sink (Matthew 14:22-33), we too lose sight of the Truth and choose to listen to the lies. At the root of every anxious thought lies a big lie?that God will not take care of me, that whatever problem worries me now is bigger than God, that God will abandon me and forget me?that I don?t have a loving Father after all. How do we combat these lies? With the TRUTH. ?We must simplify the work of our mind by a simple and calm view of God?s truths,? reminds St. Peter Julian Eymard. What is the truth? I like Saint Mother Teresa?s answer: ?Humility is truth.? The Catechism tells us that ?humility is the foundation of prayer.? Prayer is raising our hearts and minds to God. It is a conversation, a relationship. I can?t be in a relationship with someone I do not know. When we begin our prayer with humility, we acknowledge the truth of Who God is and of who we are. We recognize that, on our own, we are nothing but sin and misery but that God has made us his children and that in Him, we can do all things (Philippians 4:13). It is that humility, that truth, that brings us to first adoration, then thanksgiving, then repentance, and finally to petition. It is the natural progression of one who is completely dependent on God. So when we don?t know what to say to God, let us bless Him and praise His name. Let us think of all the blessings and thank Him for all He has done for us. This will help us trust that this same God, who has always been with us, is still here today and is always for us through good times and difficult times.
Are you quick to judge others? Are you hesitant to help someone in need? Then, it?s time to reflect! It was?just?another?day for me. Returning from the market, weary from the day?s labor,?collecting?Roofus from the Synagogue school? However, something felt different?that day. The?wind?was whispering in my ear,?and even?the sky?was?more expressive than usual.?Commotion?from a crowd?in the streets confirmed for me that today, something was going to change. Then,?I saw Him?His body so disfigured that I?turned?Roofus away from this fearful sight. The poor boy?gripped my arm with all his might?he was?terrified. The?way?this man, well, what was left of Him, was being handled?must?mean he?had?done something?terrible. I could not?bear to?stand and watch,?but as?I began to leave,?I was seized by?a Roman?soldier. To my horror, they?commanded?me?to help this man to bear His heavy load.?I?knew this meant trouble. Despite?resisting,?they asked me to help Him. What a mess!?I did not want to?associate with a sinner.?How?humiliating! To carry a cross whilst all of them watched? I knew?there was?no escape,?though,?so I?asked?my?neighbor?Vanessa?to take Roofus home?because this trial would take a while. I?walked over?to?Him?filthy, bloody, and disfigured.? I wondered what he had done to deserve this.?Whatever?be it,?this punishment was way too?cruel. The bystanders?were yelling?out??blasphemer,???liar,??and??King of the Jews,??whilst others?were?spitting at him?and?abusing?him. I?had never been so humiliated and?mentally?tortured like this before. After taking only about ten to fifteen steps with him, he fell to the ground, face first.?For this trial to end, he needed?to get?up, so?I bent over to help him up. Then, in?his eyes, I saw something that?changed me. I saw?compassion and love? How could this be? No fear, no anger, no hatred?just love and sympathy. I?was taken aback,?whilst with those eyes, He looked at me and held my hand to get back up.?I could no longer hear or see the people around me.?As?I?held?the Cross?on?my one shoulder and?Him?on?my other,?I could only keep looking at Him.?I saw the?blood, the?wounds,?the spit,?the?dirt,?everything that?could no longer hide the divinity of His face.?Now?I?heard?only?the beating of His heart and His?labored?breathing?He was struggling, yet so?very,?very strong. Amid all the noise of the people screaming, abusing, and scurrying about, I felt?as?though He was speaking to me. Everything else?I had done till that point, good or bad, seemed?pointless. When?the Roman?soldiers?pulled?Him?from me?to drag Him to the place of?crucifixion, they?shoved me?aside,?and?I fell?to?the ground. He had to continue on His own. I lay there on the ground as people trampled over me.?I did not know what?to?do?next.?All I knew was that Iife?was never?going to be the same again. I could no longer hear the crowd but?only the?silence?and the sound of my heart beating. I was?reminded?of the?sound?of His?tender?heart. A few hours later, as I was about to get up to leave, the expressive sky from earlier began to speak. The ground beneath me shook! I?looked?ahead at the top of Calvary and saw Him, arms stretched and head bowed, for me. I?know?now?that?the blood?splattered on my garment?that day?belonged to?the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.?He cleansed me with His blood. *** *** *** This is how?I?imagine Simon of Cyrene?recalling his?experience of?the day he was asked to?help?Jesus carry the Cross to Calvary.?He had probably heard very little of Jesus till that day, but I?am very sure that?he was not?the same?person after he helped the Savior carry that?Cross. This Lenten season, Simon asks us to look into ourselves: Have we been too quick to judge people? Sometimes, we?are?too?quick?to believe?what?our?instincts tell?us about?somebody. Just like Simon, we may?let our judgments?come in the way of?helping others. Simon saw Jesus?being?scourged?and assumed that He?ought to?have done something wrong.?There might have been?times?when?we?let our presumptions about a person?come in the way of?loving?them?as?Christ?called us to. Are we hesitant to help some people? Shouldn?t we see Jesus in others and reach out to help them? Jesus asks us to love?not only our friends but also?strangers and enemies. Mother Teresa,?being the?perfect example of loving strangers,?showed us how to see the face of Jesus in everyone.?Who?better to point at for an example of?loving?enemies?than Jesus Christ Himself??He loved those who?hated him and prayed for those who persecuted him.?Like Simon, we may?feel hesitant?about?reaching out to strangers?or?enemies, but?Christ?calls?us to love our brothers and sisters?just?as?He?did. He?died for their sins as much as He died for yours. Lord Jesus, thank You for giving us the example of Simon of Cyrene, who became a great witness for following Your Way. Heavenly Father, grant us the grace to become Your witnesses by reaching out to those in need.
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