Catholic Guilt: I keep missing Mass.

Church where my father's funeral was held.

Since the death of my father, last November, I have been struggling with my faith. No, let me rephrase that: my faith is intact–I still pray, I still believe and I still feel close to God, but I am having real difficulty with getting to church.

This issue seems to have started when my father was ill.

We moved my parents from their house of 39 years to our town and into an apartment back in 2006. That’s when everything changed.

I left my job working for a small distributor because I was not happy there, but also so I would be available to help out my parents and to give my mom some much needed time out and away from caregiving.

I am one who definitely believes the commandment, “Honour your Father and Mother”, but I have really found it difficult to see my life change so much.

My husband and I have no children and our life was pretty well-ordered until it became necessary to move my parents. Now that my father is gone, my mom is our total responsibility. Although she isn’t ill or frail, she does demand our attention in various ways and for various needs. She is also a person who is not the easiest to get on with. Some days I just can’t face dealing with her, if I’m honest.

Through all of this, sleep has become a huge issue for both my husband and for me. I can’t remember the last time either of us had a truly deep and long, refreshing sleep. My husband is on medication and I often have to resort to an over-the-counter tablet to get to sleep.

This means, by the time we get to Sunday morning, often we are just beat and getting up the energy to go to mass is next to impossible.

We say our prayers every night before we go to sleep and our faith is what rules our lives, but sadly, the act of going to mass to give thanks in person to our God, is falling by the wayside.

A few weeks ago, the priest spoke about not attending mass and I almost felt as if he was looking directly at me. I had every intention of making good the following week, but it was Father’s Day and I just couldn’t face it at church since it was the first Father’s Day without my own father. I know my dad is probably disappointed at the way I’m handling things. I wish I could do something about it, but it feels almost insurmountable.

Is there anyone out there who feels the same way? Or perhaps, someone is out there who has overcome these feelings and returned to regular church-attendance?

I would sincerely appreciate your thoughts.

Peace,

Beatasum

Morning Prayer – A Real Wake-up Call!

Lord, awaken my soul (Photo courtesy of Flickr)

O Lord, when I awake and day begins
waken me to thy presence,
waken me to they indwelling,
waken me to inward sight of thee,
and speech with thee
and strength from thee;
that all my earthly walk may waken into song
and my spirit leap up to thee all day,
all ways.

Eric Milner-White (taken from Morning & Night Prayers edited by Michael Hollings & Etta Gullick 1976)

My Father’s Prayer

My father was a very devout Catholic. He prayed, on his knees by his bedside every morning and every night. He encouraged me to do the same.
Growing up in the Sixties and Seventies, I was not as prayerful as he would have liked. I had other things on my mind: school, boys, dances, music and other non-religious activities. My father prayed everyday for me, in the hopes that I would one day recognize the need for prayer in my life. It took some time for his prayers to come to fruition, but as an adult I now realize how important prayer is. I still feel that I can improve upon my prayer-life and I am grateful, today, to have come across a card that my dad possessed, upon the back of which he had he typed out his petition.

The prayer itself, is an appeal to God to grant a favour through the intercession of the priest, and founder of the organization Opus Dei.

Spanish priest, Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer died on June 26, 1975, at age 73 and was beatified by Pope John Paull II, in 1992. On October 6, 2002, the Pope canonized him fully as a saint. His Feast Day is June 26 (two days after my birthday).

From an early age, Josemaría Escrivá began carrying a rosary in his pocket and he developed a lifelong love and adoration of the blessed Virgin Mary. He had a special connection to the Virgin Mary of Guadalupe; while alive he remarked about a painting of this Virgin giving a rose to Juan Diego. “I would like to die that way” he said. In fact, his natural death did occur in a room under the painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

I don’t know enough about Opus Dei to argue whether or not accusations about political statements by Josemaría Escrivá are true or not. I do know that Dan Brown uses Opus Dei to great negative effect in his books, so I am inclined to disregard the rumours against it, since Dan Brown is at the top of my list of “useless articles”, as my mother would say.

I know also, that for some reason my dad had a very strong attachment to this particular priest/saint. The card on which the prayer is printed is well-worn by his hands–it is torn and stained and a corner is missing, but the words are still clear and the sentiment rings out.

My father mysteriously crossed out eleven lines at the top of the reverse side of the card. I wish I knew what they had read, but he used a black marker, so he must have been determined that nobody read it. He also crossed out his brother’s name since he had died. The remaining intercession touched me deeply this morning and I am determined to fulfill his intention:

“My deepest wish now as always Lord, is
that Josemaria Escriva in his constant
advocacy before Your Throne, might
deign to include my daughters,
my brother Mick and my
sisters; to plead that they would
retain or redevelop the fullest real-
ization and appreciation of the great
benificence bestowed on them by being
born into the True Faith; to the point
where each of them would resolve again
to nurture, treasure and safeguard it
for the remainder of their earthly
sojourn.”

With all my heart, I thank you Daddy for all your prayers for me.

Beatasum