#thirdorderfranciscan

Christmas Eve Night, 2016- St. Anthony and the Donkey Statue at the Franciscan Shrine of St. Anthony. 

My Shrine of Solitude- The Place of Miracles....An Angelic Voice In Jeopardy. 

Since my last post worked so well on trying to find a link of Padre Pio and Sunflowers [insert eye roll], I am for, who knows why, attempting to do this, again. As I said the first time, I don’t know how to do this site. Maybe this is not for asking, maybe people can’t help? I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something!  

I may appear pious and prayerful, but I am not. I am in a rush to try and just start Christmas shopping, make mass, get in Confessions, pray, to pray and pray for my beloved friend, for her health and conversion.With so little time, little sleep, wanting to give up, I can’t. And I know it’s all up to Jesus, but I have to pray, that’s all I can do. And I get mad because more problems happen that I suddenly don’t know about, I lash out at someone because I am trying to fix it and am exhausted, have gotten no where, so I have to go make amends, and back to the confessional I go. But this woman who means the world to so many in the world that was diaganosed out of the blue with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, on the day of historic terror- September 11. Or, as I will know call it, “The Day My World Went Purple (that’s the awareness color for pancreatic cancer).”. I did not know what a pancreas even was before I learned of her diagnosis, which came at the worst time, not that any time would be appropriate. But, I mean I was going through it, really, and a week before an ending that I thought would end torture (that was only just beginning, which I’ve had to separate from and give to Jesus for my friend, but ultimately for myself), is when I find out this woman, who was  my first co-worker in my first “real-world” job out of college, along with her sister. 

To make a long story short (as this isn’t on this topic and I tend to write lengthy these days that makes no sense as I’m up all night doing or praying, and not getting anywhere!), after getting a B.A. degree in Sociology, otherwise known as “pessimism”, but with a concern for the social welfare of others- to the extreme (blame Mitch Albom and Tuesday’s with Morrie, I wanted to be him, I wanted what he had, and I did get it, except a love of sports, ability to play piano, the ability to write like him and the ability to make a difference despite any efforts without going nuts), I naively, and perhaps even with pride, thought I would have people knocking on my door to offer me a position now that I had a degree. I had worked in politics in college, learned fundraising, campaign lingo, legislative initiatives, drafting various correspondence, etc., as that was what I originally was going to get into- I wanted to be an adopted Kennedy, only I don’t have the jaw line. And while our politics are not the same, while I am much more Catholic than I was at first, though always was an elephant due to our Governor at the time, but the job I was at never asked and I never told!  And truthfully, I was in the middle, happily like Switzerland. But, I pathetically thought with that experience, in a recession, unlike any we had ever faced, I would have to do nothing. And then, once Obama was elected, and the country was happy, and then the excitement wore off, I was still at home. Then came looking for a job, and looking. Then desperation and depression. Until, I finally, after almost 2 years stumbled upon what seemed perfect- an advocacy like job working with those with intellectual disabilities, running a department where I’d write funding plans and and speak up for benefits these individuals needed. NOPE! Not it. My first day on the job, along with 2 others,  was the first of a 6 week orientation where I met the Director of Nursing, who came in, took out a bowl, a Tupperware of cereal, and milk and ate her breakfast, as she had been on duty all night, while explaining that we had to have our Med Tech Certification since we would be working in the building with those with intellectual disabilities and be on an on-call rotation, so we needed it “just in case.” I thought she was absolutely insane- and I had just received a message on my phone about another job (when I had heard nothing for 2 years, and desperately needed to call these people back!). But, I stayed, and on about the 2nd or 3rd day of her training she took us to the building down the street, and introduced myself, the new residential coordinator and one of the young girls that would be working in the Day Program to this laid back, tall blonde, who was the Day Program Coordinator, whose name, was “Woody.” And again, I thought, I need to leave. But, that was a nickname...from childhood, as it turns out they were sisters, and the Day Program Coordinator was rather new herself. After the training, which I didn’t know I needed any of that and still am scarred from it, and cannot look at a grapefruit without thinking of an enema (don’t ask!), I got to work. My position was a coordinator that ran what one would think was easy- a department for those that had mild intellectual disabilities, could live on their own with mentor hours, or staff I supervised that gave a few hours a week to take one grocery shopping, running errands to keeping them occupied. Or, it also meant, children, those under 21, living at home in the care of their parents, who were still getting special education services at school. But, it wasn’t that simple. 10-15% of my time was writing funding plans which I loved! There were other issues, most staff was out on leave due to babies or family leave. But the clients, as mild as their intellectual disability was, all the more was their mental illness. I have a deep sympathy and empathy for anyone with a mood disorder and that is a cause I will advocate for, as I, too, have one. I started antidepressants that November, after waiting so long and arguing to not want to take them. I then needed anti-anxiety meds, and I’ve been on them ever since. The job was a nightmare, I saw horrors no one should see, or experience. And I had no choice but to quit. If it was not for the woman whose office was next door, I would never have made it through any day of the week. She had a grace about her. And the crazy sister, well, they both are crazy, but they were the most normal in a place that wasn’t operating things correctly. The Director of Nursing, because she knew what went on and with whom and what was right called the higher ups, always in another building out on their violations, and was wrongfully demoted and she left. I followed suit, but it took gusto to get out, because the guilt to leave the clients was the worst. They were a handful, in my department, they could have killed me with kindness, with heartache, with a sharp tongue to a shovel, but I loved them. And 2 weeks before I was to depart, giving 4 weeks as a supervisor, one had to be admitted to the psychiatric hospital and I requested to extend that 2 more weeks, to make sure that client that really wore me down, to drinking a bottle of vodka every night, was okay. It was granted, and she was okay. And I left, but not a week later I ended up in the hospital for my first suicide attempt.

It is NOT the job that did it, while yes it played a part, I was a depressed person. The idea of leaving to go sit at home and apply for jobs didn’t sit well with me, or the idea of another additional medication, as it made it seem like I failed everything. But you find out things quickly when moments like that happen, who cares and who doesn’t. Who are your friends, and who are not. When the world walked away, when there was not a soul in sight, it was my co-worker, turned friend, turned family, who plopped herself down and didn’t leave. Annoying as that was. It was her, that was there in my darkest, and not my only one, moment. And as if that wasn’t enough, after family a brutal, and mandatory, though I was an adult, meeting, when you have lovely and wonderful parents who just don’t get it, but promise a stress free home, no annoyances, and some rest, the day of discharge, your Mom finds out after a bunch of negative tests, that she does in fact have a very rare form, one that only 1% of the population gets, of Breast Cancer. So, while my Mom’s health is certainly important, all those promises- out the window. But, the ones to keep them, as well as care for my Mom, make sure she had answers on medicines after a mastectomy to anything she needed, while making sure I got out of the house for weekends away to the beach or “Girls’ Night” was my family- the two crazy sisters. And when I needed a primary doctor, my next door office co-worker turned beloved friend, convinced the most popular doctor to accept me when she could no longer take on new patients, it was who her and her sister went to, who we sadly are losing, as of 12/31 because while young and top-rated, it’s too much paperwork and too many rules on how a physician can treat a patient. And that was a project, I should have been able to fix, but I didn’t have time, not with my sick friend and praying and deaths to all these other disasters. My appointment was last Monday, and it was AWFUL. See, I’ve gone on too long, this is never going to work- but no one can describe this beautiful soul and everything she has been through. That’s not her story, not in the least. And pancreatic cancer, I’ve done the research, I’ve joined the groups and it’s awful. No advances, the statistics are crazy, the median survival rate for stage 4, well look that up, I can’t. And all she can get is chemo, because her cancer is on the tail, she cannot get something called a whipple, she cannot get radiation, she can just get chemo. And it’s already spread, to her kidneys, and lymph nodes (if that’s how you spell?) And that’s all I will say, as this wasn’t meant to be on here, but, you know, this is about St. Anthony and his miraculous intercession, so if someone is inclined, here is a link to a GoFundMe page for her medical expenses, that I am not responsible for making up, the credit belongs to someone else. And prayers always work, too. I’m maxed out, financially, not prayer wise, but God gives us all we need, so I have to give that worry up, too.   Until then, I will be getting healed and forgiving and seeking forgiveness as quickly as I can, from the code of one of the greatest mystics of our time. For more on the mystic, you’d have to read my first post, and if you do know the link on sunflowers and Padre Pio, please by all means, as that’s for another friend. 

But, the real meaning behind this post was because, years ago, after this work situation, after being a binge drinker and crashing into a table one night before a family wedding, my oldest cousin who was getting married for the 2nd time after having a baby with her now husband and having recovered from drug addiction. It was not that reason for what was going to be the cause of lots of complaining from judgmental and opinionated, maternal aunts, mostly just two, who I can only pray for, but that it was a bi-racial wedding. Which doesn’t make any sense, at all. I really had scared my parents. And it wasn’t just the wedding, my Mom was still dealing with cancer, well recovery now (Thanks to God!), with one more surgery to go. And I had no job. Our family goes way back with a walking saint, a prison chaplain, a minister to the homeless and one who has literally nothing- he gives everything away to others. When my Mom and her family met him, he was a seminarian, assigned to their family church across the street. So, he performs everything,from weddings, to baptisms of all the grandchildren. Now, its weddings of grandchildren and baptisms of great-grandchildren. The last thing he presided over for our family was this past June, my grandmothers funeral. But, he also helped those in our family in moments of crisis, an aunt (a judgmental one), the cousin whose wedding he presided and that night as he went to leave I knew I needed help, and he gave me his number. It took being drunk to call him and a couple weeks, but I did. And I owe him my life (side note: because I’ve been up all night, trying to type this and figure what to say, I just remember, he gave me his favorite prayer, because I’m such a worrier. I have it in my old wallet, as he will be a saint, but it was his favorite! And, I don’t recall what it was, but it was a St. Anthony one...I will have to go find it now to see, how odd, yet, not).

And who he has brought in it, including a woman, a convert who was an atheist who became pious, way more than a girl educated in the Catholic School Systems her whole life that took me randomly one day to a festival, a celebration honoring St. Anthony of Padua’s Feast Day, in which I went to humor her. But, my gosh I fell in love! And that became my new home, my sanctuary, my resting place. I love all the friars, I love the grounds and it is truly a place of miracles. You can’t belong to a shrine, but I go regularly, a two hour drive because it’s my church family. And I could go on about so many wonderful, miraculous things that happened. But, I can easily tell you my first miracle, it was hearing the voice of, what do you call it, a lector, music minister? Most churches have okay music, though I’ve found exceptional ones in the last few years! Exceptional! And it makes a big difference. If you’re in the states and go to Steubenville Conferences, the Franciscan University, how can one not appreciate Bob Rice, or Dr. Bob Rice, as he is known now? If the speaker list doesn’t entice you, his music will! But, at this place, there was the heavenly woman who stood up with a guitar and belted out songs...and I had never heard anything like it. And that is why I bothered returning. She’s more than that...her resume is remarkable. I think she can play anything! She teaches music, she is a dialect coach, she gets involved in producing plays, or the actors, to being in shows herself. I have a special name for her, which I won’t say, as everyone know’s that’s what I call her.  So, if someone did get on here, they couldn’t know it was me posting, as I don’t know if this is supposed to be out of the bag, or what. But, I bought her CD’s, and I finally had to look her up and I sent her an e-mail to let her know just how phenomenal she was. It’s funny how the world of computers work, nowadays we have to worry about cyber bullying, but when I was young and computers were first starting to get into people’s home, with dial-up, I met one of my dearest friends that way. I had a love for musical theatre from my Grandmother, who took me to my first live show, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but had me watching classics when I was a toddler from My Fair Lady to Camelot. In middle school, while watching an Andrew Lloyd Weber Special, I fell head over heels for a UK singer, tracked him down as nothing was available in the states, joined a fan club, some mailing list that was too overwhelming to check and had to order everything overseas. Then one random day, I learn that very singer, the one whose head was imprinted on my pillow sheet, was coming to the states, and to my state and some woman got me in to the Public Television pledge thing, with the next day, this woman who was sending all these messages from the mailing list contacted me, an energetic woman from WA state who held get togethers in NYC every year for American fans, but come to find out she was my grandmothers age! But, it didn’t matter, because she loved what I did, and we began to e-mail multiple times a day and would mail each other playbills and when she got the chance she’d call on a special Sunday she was headed to Seattle to see a how (when cell phones costs extra to call half way across the country). She became one of my best friends. And my parents, as skeptical as they are, were in complete agreement to go to the gathering that following August in NYC, along with my grandmother, to celebrate our favorite singer, see shows, meet up with actors she supported-particularly one young man who I still support to this day in her honor and because he has talent and be friends, be present to one another in person. And the years that followed. Until she passed away, Valentine’s Day, 2005- which was fitting, as if anyone departed on a day of love, it would have been her. I took it not so well, didn’t listen to anything, didn’t want to see shows at the theatre, etc., until the angelic voice at the friary. She brought back the gift of music, and now look, as you’ll see post above (which that is much shorter than this turned out, so answer if you have a slight clue where to find the info, please!), while I’m no singer, or I don’t play a guitar, I now have another friend who wrote a musical that is brilliant, I’m helping as best I can to promote and market that and she is the one I knew to go to for direction on anything! And, I pledge a loyalty to this amazing talent, to do whatever I  can, though I don’t know yet what that is, as so much is being dumped on...and yes, selfishly, I need her music, especially now, too. 

Things change, I get that. Friars leave on new assignments, but some you cannot part with. One friar, I keep track of, though he doesn’t communicate through e-mail or computer and he is serving in a Spanish parish. We called him Padre Pio II. But he always has a place in my heart. And, this summer, a blow came when the Director, who as long as I’ve known about the friary, has been there, announced a big promotion- meaning he was leaving his post, though his new residence was just down the street, he’d be traveling. And that was hard to swallow, but I did. And he’s come back, and I keep tabs on where he’s at. A new director came in, and I grew to like him, was impressed by him, then went to a seminar, mini-retreat and did not like him, did not like his answers and refused to return. But I apologized, I did a Holy Hour and I did my best to make amends as he does do things that seem special, even humble. And I misunderstood the message, especially at the time I’m going through, it was not the time to go to such a lecture/teaching when you have a sick friend. And he was off the list, but in finally getting to this angelic voice and e-mailing her as she should be out there more, she’s super talented! I casually said something about her meeting with the new director and sarcastically said I hope this doesn’t mean you’re cut back any...but she is going to be. In a tiny chapel, this director, who has already brought changes that I don’t know if people do or do not like, depends on if they are a “regular” or a “pilgrim,” he wants to fit in an organ and a choir because it’s his dream. The faithful friar is young, and has well-meaning wishes, ambitious and wonderful ideas, tremendous devotions and even more than that to offer. But, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. And if it is his dream, not the dream of the others who buy her records in the gift shop, who cry at the staple song she sings on Good Friday, to thanking her after a mass she’s played at- how can he be shepherding a flock through his dream, and not through the message of the faithful Franciscan, St. Anthony?  This is someone who gives hope and peace, plus comfort, not to mention stories of Jesus from her own written songs to those who flock to the sacred shrine. This is more than just my first miracle of the shrine, this is the friary experience!

I am not sure on miracles today, I’m doubting Thomas, I’m the lost sheep, I’m the Prodigal son. But, I know this beloved shrine is in part beloved because of this woman’s music, and her heart. And in somehow trying to think how to link all this together, actually I believe I can, all of it, even the story on my sick friend. A homily I will never forget happened on one feast day celebration for St. Anthony, by my dear friar now somewhere else, who I said we called Padre Pio II. In saying, the importance of St. Anthony and what he meant, he told those in the church that whenever a problem arose, “Go to Anthony.” Because in his work, he was not just a Franciscan, teacher, preacher but he became a saint for the lost, a saint of miracles because of companionship. In each story I told, I found companionship, different places, at different times, always in a time of need. St. Anthony, as Padre Pio II said that day, and I’m butchering it, told us we should imagine what it is like to be the great pain, in tremendous suffering, to be at our loneliest and when we did to remember St. Anthony, because he was the ultimate companion, and always, no matter what the problem to remember to “Go to Anthony.”

If, you could pray for a miracle, to St. Anthony, or St. Francis of Assisi, or St. Cecelia (patron of musicians, arts, etc.), please do so, if you have a love of either 3, or for any saint you do have a love for, especially one that is also Franciscan- St. Therese, St. Claire (she’s the patron of TV, and gosh, that’s where this woman needs to be!), to my other saint who I send my guardian angel up to every day lately, Padre Pio. If you wish to support the work of this phenomenal woman, I am anonymous, and you came across her, and you can order a CD, or other product through her website.

If, I don’t know how this will work, but I just gave her website, so you can now tell what St. Anthony’s Shrine is being referred, but if this site works as intended, and I’m relying on St. Anthony and the Holy Spirit. So, with faith, with faith this long message is read, if anyone wishes to write a note, without mentioning the woman who’s site I linked, or that this plan is happening, this post, etc. Well, if you write it, I imagine you know what to do, but it would be addressed to The Shrine of Saint Anthony, c/o Director of the Shrine (you can look up as I can’t put name, first page of website, but don’t use email, that goes to office staff), address (bottom of the page). 

She’s too important to lose...no organ or choir, or fancy thing can replace the love of music, ministry and faith she has in heart. 

“The wisdom of God is reflected in the face of the soul: she will see God as he is, and she will know as she is known.”~St. Anthony of Padua, from Sermons of Saint Anthony of Padua