Prayer and Healing

One of the nice things about getting together with family is sharing stories. It was my dad's birthday this weekend and we were all together to celebrate. After the meal, but before dessert we were talking about miracles. I mentioned the story of my brother and the above and beyond actions of a pharmacist who saved his life (click here for that story). Well, my dad recounted how his father was cured from cancer through prayer. This happened in the early 70's. My Grandfather had cancer in his kidneys. One kidney was completely cancerous and the other was 80% cancerous. He was bed ridden with tubes inserted for urination because of the condition. The doctors gave a life expectancy of 5 minutes to emphasize that he could die at any time. My parents invited the parish priest, Fr. Flanagan, to come and administer last rights. At the time they were heavily involved in Marriage Encounter, and had activated a network of more than 1,000 people to pray for my grandfather. About a week later my grandfather rolled over in bed, pulled out the tube, got up and said that he was better. When the doctors examined him they found no evidence of cancer anywhere and had no explanation what happened. My dad tells me he does not think that my grandfather was even aware that so many people were praying for him. He attributed his miraculous recovery to carrot juice. He lived seven more years, and died of a heart attack - not cancer.

Guardian Angels In Pismo 2

We had just started our drive home when it happened. It was a beautiful day and had just settled in for the 4 hour drive. We had not started our rosary yet. Just after our first potty break (about 15 minutes into the trip), we witnessed an accident happen right in front of us - about the distance one would travel in 5 seconds at 70 MPH. A white minivan drifted to the left, over-corrected to the right and then lost control heading off to the left at 90 degrees. The car which had been in the far right lane heading south (the slow lane), crossed the fast lane right in front of another car. Went over the brush filled area between the southbound and northbound lanes (about 20 feet wide) and went perpendicular into traffic coming the opposite direction. An SUV going 70+ MPH slammed into the side of the minivan. The image above is what was left of the minivan. We immediately pulled over to see if we could help, but we were now on the opposite side of the highway. After calling for emergency help (along with several other people given the cell tower was overwhelmed), we resumed our journey, and started our rosary. The sole intention was for those involved. Miraculously, no one was killed. Two people suffered moderate injuries and two walked away without injury (we found out on Monday). Thank God all survived. Again we thank Him for our guardian angels watching over us as well. It was only 5 seconds that separated us from that car - a mile or two per hour difference and we would have been next to it. We especially thank our Blessed Mother whom we had asked to watch over us at the beginning of our weekend journey. With two potentially fatal disasters avoided, my wife and I both sensed the protection we received. Clearly, God is not done with us, nor the people in that accident, yet. The image is from the Santa Maria Times - their story of the incident can be found here. Note the image is not mine, and is used here under the fair use policy.

Guardian Angels In Pismo 1

We just returned from a weekend at Pismo Beach with my folks, my brother and two sisters, and the beginnings of the next generation (my three kids and my sister's one). It was absolutely beautiful. We had a room that overlooked the ocean. After morning prayers on Saturday, I stepped out onto th balcony, and the only words that came to me were "He made the sea, it belongs to him." It was breathtaking. What a way to start Mary's birthday. The picture above is that very view from the room where we were staying. We were in here to celebrate my daughter's birthday which just past, and my father's which is coming up. The day was planned so that we watched my daughter take surf lessons in the morning (she seemed a natural - up on her very first try), had lunch, and then my siblings, brother-in-law, wife, and I would go kayaking. The picture to the left is of my oldest having her first surf lessons. This was my first time kayaking, but everyone else had been at least once. Being new, I had no say about where we launched, but where plays into the story. We ended up launching from Shell Beach, about a mile or so north of Pismo Beach. The tide was coming in, and the swells were substantial, but manageable. In that area, you do have to manage your way among many rock islands full of seals and sea birds. It is breathtaking (both because of the beauty and because the animals reek). My youngest sister (not yet 21) started to have a panic attack as the kayak she and my other sister shared came close to some mostly submerged rocks that they had not seen (we were about 100 yards out). While I have never had a panic attack, I understood the worry about smashing into rocks. But we got her calmed without incident, but she wanted to head on back, so we did (this was about 20 minutes into the adventure). The folks at the kayak company had told us to come back straight in between two narrow jutting strips of rock. The surf was definitely coming in, and it wasn't easy to see where you were going. My brother went first and made it to the beach - no problem. My wife and I in a tandem boat also made it to shore without a hitch. But the boat with my two sisters, overturned in the surf about 30 feet out. If you are familiar with Pismo Beach, you probably know that it is a sandy beach where the water is only chest high a 50 yards out - easy as pie. So when my sister (the one who panicked) sent up a shout, we thought it was in joy at having finished. It took a couple seconds to realize that something was wrong. Shell Beach is not sand (nor shell). It's bottom is a floor of sharp, uneven, slippery rocks. My sisters were getting their feet cut and unable to get into shore since they had worn flip-flops (not tennis shoes like me or gripping sandals like my brother-in-law). My brother-in-law is a former life guard. He was able to calm my youngest sister, while I helped my other sister (his wife) make it to shore. The good news was that we were able to get them in safely - plenty of cuts on feet and legs, but safe. It is scary to think about going over into those rocks like they did. A sharp rock to the head.... We thanked God for our guardian angels and for our Blessed Mother looking out for us on her birthday. Things could have gone much, much worse. I have another story from our weekend adventures tomorrow.

A Back to School Story

Creative Minority Report is one of the blogs that I absolutely have to visit every day. Not only does it have one of the best layouts, it has writing you just don't want to miss. So how I missed this one two days ago, I don't know. But thanks to Jay at Pro Ecclesia (one of my other "have to read" blogs) for pointing to it. You want to read this one. A Back to School Story And Modern Day Miracle.: "Tommy didn’t want to meet a celebrity. He didn’t want to play basketball against an NBA hero. His wish was simple: Save my School. You see, the Archdiocese of Philadelphia was closing Tommy’s elementary school because much of the Catholic population had moved into the suburbs and the urban neighborhood just couldn’t support the school anymore. Here’s the letter Tommy wrote:" For the rest of the story, head on over to Creative Minority Report.

Birth Stories - Grace

Here is part three of three (so far) for my birth stories. Part one (Maggie) can be found here. Part two (Mike) can be found here. This one is fresh in the memory being less than a year ago. I tell you Lynn has become a pro at this thing, and God blessed us with an uneventful pregnancy. The worst part was arguing with the doctor for all of the "tests" as we are in our late 30's. We kept telling him that it didn't matter to our decision so what was the point of extensive (and expensive) testing. That frustrated him some, but we figured it was our baby. We ended up going for screening (nothing more invasive than a blood test of Lynn's blood and family background interview), even then we thought it was a waste of time. It came back that our odds were much lower than average. But he still wanted to do an amnio and some other tests. We said no thanks. At the end, Lynn had a week of low level labor, but it seemed this little one didn't want to come out. Well on the night, I had my bowling league. Lynn called about half way through our third game. She asked how much longer I would be. I said about 20 minutes. She said she thought it was time and that I should not dally on my way home. Well, at that moment I was not as dumb as I can sometimes be, and I figured it was a bad idea to finish the game (this is a lot different than the Maggie story). Oh, for those who care, I was rockin' on the lanes that night. Well it was a good that I left when I did. It took 5 minutes to get home, and 15 to get to the hospital. This was late on the night of the 12th and we were really hoping to beat the 13th. Well, the doctor (who lives very close to the hospital) barely made it. We were in the hospital for about 30 minutes when Gracie showed up. The doctor rushed in as the baby was crowning (just in time to catch and handle post birth issues). It took Gracie a while to finally decide it was time, but once she was on the way, there was no stopping her.

Birth Stories - Mike

This is part two of my three part series. Part one (Maggie) can be found here. After thinking about Mathew's request for birth on Catholic Dads, my first thought was that the stories weren't that interesting. But then my mind went back to the time when each child was in the womb and their birth, and all three were worth telling. And as I read the stories of others, it looks like that may be true for all births. Between Maggie and Mike we had two miscarriages, which is not easy. In fact, we Mike started to miscarry, but Lynn had gone to a problem pregnancy specialist (because of the miscarriages), and he was able to provide hormone treatment which saved him. Thank God for that - I can't imagine life without him. Unlike Maggie, where we started labor in the evening and stayed up all night, Mike was more considerate. Lynn woke me up at 6AM, and we were in the hospital by 6:30. The doctor was called, and he expected that it would be some time and said he would be in later. We figured it would take a while too, and after the pain of the first pregnancy, Lynn opted for an epidural. This was good because it definitely reduced pain. I think it let Lynn be more aware of what was going on (not just focusing on dealing with pain). But that is just this observer's opinion. The hospital called the doctor a couple more times because Lynn was progressing quickly. He insisted he had plenty of time. Well, the doctor was wrong. Mike came pretty quickly, only a bit more than a couple hours after we arrived. The doctor never made it. Mike was the first delivery for a new doctor up from the emergency room. Thank God for those nurses! They new exactly what to do. Thank God as well for a problem free delivery.

Birth Stories - Maggie

Mathew S at Catholic Dads was asking about birth stories, and I thought these would make a good set of posts in light of Fathers Day yesterday. Maggie was our first, we had a virtually trouble free pregnancy. We did all of the Lamaze classes, which I hated. I thought the breathing exercises were good, but some of the over the new age elements were irritating. But all is well, I still remember the breathing exercises. Don't let me give you the impression that I was not excited about our coming little girl - I was. And I talked to her frequently. I wanted to get her use to that lower voiced guy. I cup my hands where I thought her head was, and in a deep voice say "hellloooo baby" and "hellloooo Maggie" once we found out she was a girl. On the evening before the big event, Lynn tells me that she thinks it is time to go. Now, this may sound insensitive, but it was not the best time. It was the first Notre Dame game of the year, she tells me very close to the end of the. Now, I learned in Lamaze that the labor would take quite a while. I was trying to convince her to stay home as long as possible (at least until the game ended). I know, I know - I am horrible for that. Don't worry, I have been told. I was right though. It was a long labor. We got into the hospital early evening one night, and she was not delivered until 9 the next morning. And Lynn went drug free until early morning (and then it was the stuff that only takes the edge off). I still say she would have been more comfortable at home than in that hospital room. But the excitement came at the end of the story. Something was wrong and things were not progressing. The nurse determined that the reason was that the umbilical chord was wrapped around Maggie's neck. The doctor came in and they decided that they had to deliver her as far as possible so they could cut the cord from around her neck. As a dad, who could only count and encourage his wife - this was pretty hard. Lynn was pushing - she had no idea what was going on down where the doctor was. But I could see the fetal monitor. I could see the heartbeat dropping as the chord tightened with each push. It is hard to sound encouraging and count while you are fighting crying. I have told my wife, I am not sure why Dad's are allowed in the delivery room. I think it is to learn how utterly helpless we really are. But the doctor pulled her through enough with the suction cup and cut the cord from around her neck. All was OK, though quite scary. Maggie was crying loudly - I sure was glad to hear that. And she got really quite when I said "hello Maggie." I guess all that talking to her in the womb paid off since she recognized my voice.

Ears of the Deaf & Tongue of the Mute

Click on picture for larger image Obedience to God's will is not always about speaking up - sometimes it is remaining silent. My wife and I were talking about personalities in my family. We were discussing how I have no fear of conflict. I love to speak in public and am a leader, which tends to mean I have no problem saying what is on my mind. Mostly this is a positive trait, but it can get me into trouble. A homily at Sunday Mass back in September has had a big impact on me, and as I was meditating on the rosary today, it came back to me again. I think the lesson is good for those like me who have no problem "sharing." The Gospel that day was Mark 7:31-37 about Jesus healing the deaf mute. The homily really caught my attention because our priest was saying that sometimes we need to pray to have the ears of the deaf and the tongue of the mute. Sometimes we should pray that our ears are closed to what we should not hear and that our tongue is held when we should not speak. This is exactly opposite of what I had expected. I mean, the miracle was about how the deaf hear and the mute speak. I did a double take to make sure I heard correctly - definitely not what I had expected. Immediately after mass the message was stamped firmly into my gray matter. Someone who fancies himself a Parish Big Wig (Mr. PBW), decided that when I read the petitions the previous week, I had mispronounced a name and I was in need of correction. I was in such need, that he did not wait until I had a donut and coffee - he didn't even wait until I was out of church - heck, he was walking across the church before the recessional hymn was finished. As Mr. PBW was speaking I could feel the blood rush to my head and several quips leapt to mind. There are lots of reasons I am not a Mr. PBW fan, and this was my chance to share my insights about his issues. But as he was speaking, I remembered the homily. I prayed for the ears of the deaf and the tongue of the mute. I smiled, accepted his correction, and went out with my family. I don't know if I have ever had a homily lesson that I had to put into action that quickly after mass. As I was meditating today on the "Presentation in the Temple," I was thinking about how the rules of the temple - Mary being ritually cleansed and Christ being presented and ransomed back - were not necessary for the Holy Family. I mean, she was pure and he was, well, God. But here our Redeemer and the Blessed Mother both subjected themselves to the law. The lesson in humility and obedience was so clear. Then this homily came to mind. Sometimes we must be subject to that which may not seem fair or right or necessary. While many times these situations call for word or action, sometimes they call for silence, for subjugation, for waiting. For those like me who have no trouble speaking up, this requisite lesson can be hard (at least I have found it so). At times, I still find myself praying for the ears of the deaf and the tongue of the mute at my parish. But I find the lesson extended to the Internet as well. I have found myself wanting to write a post or leave a comment that, after a quick prayer, remains unpublished. Not easy, but necessary.

Motorcyles, Mountains, & Being There

Click on picture for larger image Saturday in So Cal was overcast - we call it June gloom (even when it isn’t June - what do you want, we’re nuts, remember). So the family packed it in, dog and all, and headed east to the mountains (about 15 miles away). Being further inland the overcast was starting to burn off when we got there. We stopped and took pictures at different spots. Got out and went down to a creek (the boy stepped in it, shoe and all of course). It was really pleasant. Well we decided to take a winding road back for the scenery. As we were driving, I saw this tree that had burned and really wanted a photo of it. As I was out of the car, I heard the roar of motorcycles. Looking ahead a couple turns I saw four bikes racing toward me. I got set and took a several shots as they rounded the corner. I was pretty excited – I am not usually in a place for an action shot, and this one just appeared out of nowhere. The whole thing got me thinking about life in general, and I saw two parallels to this event. First, life is largely about being ready in the right place at the right time. It isn’t just the events. You have to be prepared - even if you don’t know what, if anything, is coming around the turn. But if you’re ready, you might catch the right shot. The other point is that sometimes, being in the right place at the right time may be an opportunity in a supporting role or as a witness. I suspect there are more than a few men like me who enjoy being the main character. Sometimes, we are there for other people’s actions. I think God is asking us to be ready. Do what we are call to do now, yes, but also prepare - be ready. What for? I'm not sure, but I bet it will be worthwhile.

Gargoyle Code

Click on image to go to Standing on My Head I am definitely a fan of Fr. Dwight Longenecker's blog Standing on My Head. I highly recommend the blog, but especially the series he has going called the Gargoyle Code - a good read based on a Screwtape Letters motif. You can get all of the Gargoyle Code posts by clicking here. The image comes from the Gargoyle Code posts on Fr. Longenecker's site. Check it out, you'll be glad you did.

Miracles (Part 3 of 3)

Click on picture for larger image This story is only a few months old, and it happened to my wife when she was still pregnant with Gracie. My wife is a part-time music teacher at our kids Catholic school. Well, the school was looking for a new kindergarten teacher, and my wife recommended our neighbor/friend from a couple doors down who is both Catholic and credentialed. Anyways, our friend got the job. This story happens on the start of the year retreat for the teachers. By the end of the first day, the returning teachers had gotten to know the new kindergarten teacher, but they were still curious. One way or the other they had heard that the new teacher had had bariatric surgery (and later surgery to remove excess skin) and was missing a belly button. This is definitely a curious thing. My wife, our neighbor and two other teachers were all driving together to the retreat on the second morning. They were starting to walk up a set of stairs when out of the blue, one of the teachers asked about the reported lack of a belly button. Now, no one has ever asked to see my belly button so I don't know how awkward the moment was, but it must have been awkward. Awkward or not, our neighbor stopped and shared claim to fame with her new colleagues. This must have taken only 10 seconds or so, but it was enough. Just as they started again to climb the stairs, a lady in the parking lot above lost control of her car and plowed it through the pedestrian area at the top landing. If they had not stopped for the story, people would have died. I thank God that my wife and new daughter are with me today. So why share these? I had in my mind that such things did not happen to me. But over the past week all three of these events came to my attention. These aren't water into wine miracles, but I think they are miracles none the less. They show me the extreme fragility of life, and what is important. They show me that God is watching out for me and my family. They make me ask for what purpose we have been spared these tragedies. God has a purpose, and it will be revealed in proper time. These incidences remind me of that.

Miracles (Part 2 of 3)

Click on picture for larger image We moved to Atlanta from So Cal when my boy was 2 years old. I had a huge opportunity and if the market had gone differently we would have been set financially. God had other plans, and we eventually moved back to So Cal. But this story is about the move to ATL. When we move from LA, I was flabbergasted by the tremendous difference in what your money could buy. That difference and a new promotion resulted in a pretty nice house - big yard, an Atlanta address, and a pool in the back. Moving across the country was hectic with all of the details, plus the emotions involved with leaving family. Well, we and the movers were finally at the house. The movers had all of the doors open moving stuff in through both the front and back of the house. We set the kids down to play and told them to stay put, especially when the back door was open. We kept a careful eye out while the doors were open, not wanting any lost or injured kids. The movers were just about done, bringing in the last few things. We were starting the task of opening boxes. The girl was coloring at the table, and the boy was playing - at least that is what we thought. My daughter dropped a marker, and she moved to pick it up. As she bent down, she saw my son flailing about in the deep end of the pool well away from the edge. She shouted that he was in the pool. The urge to panic instantly welled up within me, but I acted immediately. I ran out the door, jumped into the dirty water with clothes, shoes, cell phones and all. As I was coming up, I had him in my arms and on the side of the pool with one motion. The thought of the incident still brings up emotions. What could have happened? What if my daughter had not dropped her marker? What if she had looked right instead of left? What if both of us had been upstairs? I know God was watching, and I am so grateful that I still have my son. Thank you, Lord.

Miracles (Part 1 of 3)

Click on picture for larger image While writing my blog, I was presented with the question of miracles in a Friday Feast, and I wrote about how my brother almost wasn't (you can read the tale here and here). That is an excellent story left me wondering whether the warning came from someone who was more than what he appeared. But that story is not my story, at least not directly. Without really focusing on it other sincidences came to mind. Now mind you, these are not the biblical sized miracles like turning water into wine, being knocked off a horse by God, or such. Nor are they the everyday miracles like life itself. In some ways they seem to me to be the guardian angel working overtime type of miracles, and I have three that I came to mind over the past several days. The first happened on my birthday. I think it was my 16th, only two years after my brother from the other story was born. Now, at the time my folks had run into a bit of a rough patch financially, and we had moved to a house that did not quite fit their dreams. But it was a good home in a solid working class neighborhood. Now, for most of my life my Mom had been a full-time mom, but because my dad had been injured, she spent a few years working for the local school district. For a boy of 16, no mom or dad around meant a little bit of freedom. I must admit that I was not exactly the wildest kid, but I was not as good as I could have been either. I remember wishing I could drive (I didn't drive until 17), but was going to make the most of the warm day. I grabbed my bike and was going for a ride down the street. At the time we lived in a flag lot where a big property was subdivided into three smaller properties with a long driveway. We lived in the middle house. And the driveway was just long enough to get going a good speed - not super fast, but fast enough. Now there were bushes and cars along the driveway, so I could not see whether any cars were coming. Being 16, I was not really paying attention. Thankfully, my guardian angel was paying attention. A car hit my bike, ripped the front wheel right off and sent it flying at a good 200 feet. I fell to the ground, and a pebble scratched the heal of my hand, and that was the extent of my injuries. A car going about 35 mph missed hitting me directly by the tiniest fraction of a second. I am not sure that others would think that a miracle, but I do. I thank God I am alive, and for an excellent guardian angel.

Heroes

Sorry, no larger image. The picture above is of Grace Michelle, who is due to arive in a couple months. You'll see the connection to the picture as you read on. Adoro Te Devote has started a meme, and has tagged me. Here are the rules: 1. Honor a living hero 2. Preference given to Firefighters, Police Officers, Paramedics, EMT's, Dispatchers 3. Not everyone is acquainted with someone fitting into these categories. If this is the case, then honor someone else, a hero in your life who is willing to "give all" in some way. It can be a priest, a pastor, a teacher, a relative, a friend...etc. First, thanks! I kinda like these. :) Second, let me say that this is not easy. I am one of those Gen Xers who doesn't have much in the way of heroes. There have been people who have influenced me, whom I admire, whom I appreciate, for whom I thank God. But not any real "heroes." Oh, I could probably pull a cliché, but that would not be much fun for you or me. So I was stumped. But as I was driving Sunday night it came to me. I hope this person is still living, but I don't know - the event happened about 23 years ago, and it didn't happen to me - though I witnessed it. It was early in my high school years. I think it was between freshman and sophomore year. I was living at school then and was either home on the weekend or for Easter break. Anyway, Mom was having medical issues. Something was wrong. She had gone to the doctor, and he said he thought she had a tumor. I am not sure of the details, but I did know that she was worried. The doctor prescribed some sort of medication that would help if it was tumor, and I remember us going to the local Sav-on drug store to get the prescription filled. I still remember that day because, something happened that I had not seen before nor since. Later that day I remember sitting at the kitchen table, where you can see the front door. I don't remember how long it was since we had gotten home, but there was a knock on the door. I think my sister opened it. A man was at the door asking to see Mom. It was the pharmacist. Now, perhaps in the "old days" (circa 1880) pharmacists would visit your house. But in the early 1980s, to have a stranger make a house call...? It isn't really "me" decade behavior. He told Mom that if she had any reason to think that she was pregnant, not to take the medication. Now, the doctors told Mom that she would never have children again after my sister (who was 12 by then). This was very odd to hear, but with a warning like that, would you take the medication? Mom didn't take it. The tumor turned out to not be a tumor, but my brother. When I look back at my life, there were lots of people who helped me and made a huge difference in my life. But I can think of only this one time where I witnessed a person save the life of someone close to me. To keep this going, I tag: Jerry Grosso at My Autistic Boy and Other Adventures in Fatherhood Moneybags at A Catholic Life (if he is not too swamped) Amber at This Catholic Journey Ukok at Ukok's Place and... Aaron Calloway, who is lurking as a reader here. AC, just post it in the comments. :) Tags: heroes, pharmacist, miracle