Jesus – Prayers Over The Kitchen Sink

Jesus Speaks for Himself

“It is finished.”

I went online and ordered a beautiful crucifix. I had other, smaller ones in our home that hung on walls and above doorways, gifts from baptisms and first communions. The one in my oldest daughter’s room displayed a golden corpus Christi on a pretty pearly white cross.

But this one was different. It was larger and more realistic with Jesus in the fullness of his passion. Our Lord depicted with all of the human nakedness and woundedness that one could imagine. When I opened the package it came in, it took my breath away but, as I hung it on my wall, an unexpected thought arose:

“I don’t want them to see you like this, Lord.”

Of course, to me it was exquisite, but I thought of the impression this raw depiction of Christ could make on my family and friends that were less acquainted with the Gospel. I wanted them to know the Jesus that I knew, who’s strength I boasted of.

I didn’t want to present what seems so dark without immediately explaining how it’s really the light! I didn’t want them to see the ugliness of the cross without knowing the beauty of the resurrection on the other side. I didn’t want them to see the Savior as this victim, this lamb led to slaughter, but as the Almighty, the King of Kings! I didn’t want to scare anyone off or give people the wrong idea.

But I put it up anyway, because I knew that if I wanted to show myself and others the truth about Jesus, if I desired to honor Him by displaying the fullness of His glory, His power, His strength and His Kingship;

THIS WAS IT!

Because this is what holiness looks like. This is what true love is.

During my lost years trying on different protestant churches I was told that a cross with a corpus Christi was offensive by a woman who was showing me around. We walked into a theater-like room complete with a stage above which a large cross hung, backlit with blue and purple lights. She pointed to it explaining, “We don’t keep Jesus on the Cross, because He isn’t there anymore, He’s in Heaven!”

At the time it made sense to me who was trying to reconcile my love for Jesus while also rejecting the context of Catholicism which I no longer understood at the time. It brought to mind a moment from my childhood when I encountered an icon of a suffering Christ. It was a small portrait in a golden frame that hung on the wall of my Catechism class which my mother taught that year.

Click through to my Substack to read the full story!

“Mama, can you wash my foot?”

A Little Lent Reflection

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast brought perfect praise.-Matthew 21:16

It was a typical busy morning with my kids. I had just finished slinging pancakes, slipping a whole one through my pre teen’s door before cutting the rest up into little bite-sized pieces and leaving a dollop of maple syrup in the smallest wedge of the divided plastic plates.

With the calvary distracted by breakfast, I finally had my chance. I grabbed my coffee and my copy of that month’s Magnificat and headed to the dining room. I settled at the table, out of the splash-zone of the eat-in kitchen table where my toddlers dipped their morsels and slurped down milk.

The readings contained the story of Mary Magdalene who showed her love for Jesus by using her hair to bathe his feet in her tears. Magdalene has always held a special place in my heart. Not only is she often misunderstood, but she believed in Jesus’ power to forgive and to heal.

My Baby’s Going Viral for Calling Out to Jesus 🤍

My baby’s going viral for recognizing Jesus in the Eucharist.

Watch the video on Tik Tok Here: Video on Tik Tok

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Backstory:

What a wild week! It all started in a comment section with trolls. I left an innocent comment on a post by @catholicsam on Instagram regarding the Blessed Virgin Mary saying “Don’t disrespect my Mama!” that triggered some relentless nasty comments about me and Catholicism in general that went on for days. But, faceless strangers’ opinions are easy to let roll off of my back. I practiced apologetics a lot in this way when running my storytelling apostolate.

The next day, however I was told by a gentler, more familiar voice out of the blue that Catholicism is a false religion and that I should leave so my family and I can follow Jesus and go to heaven. That one hurt more. I actually cried out of frustration and feeling so misunderstood.

How it Happened:

I will say firstly that this moment was purely organic. My baby does this all of the time. I went up to pray quickly in the back of the empty church sanctuary with a heavy heart from the conversation earlier that day. I sat her down and she began to laugh and smile, eyes sparkling and fixed on the tabernacle.

She began shouting Dada, which she often does at Mass and Adoration but I never record for obvious reasons. It felt like Jesus was speaking right to my heart, reminding me that He is here.

The One Who Can

As Catholics, we’re well advised not to put *too* much stock in dreams. They can be easily influenced by imagination yet; there are several accounts of God reaching out to his people through dreams in the Bible (like that of Saint Joseph). Not all dreams are prophetic but this one has stuck with me and really personifies my journey through Motherhood, and to Mary.

Let me take you into my dream cloud for a spell:

“Where am I?” I wonder, “It’s hot! Why is it so hot?” All I can hear is the muffled sound of waves crashing. I’m walking down the street of an unfamiliar seaside neighborhood road. I squint my eyes, doing my best to look at the houses surrounding me in hopes of recognizing one. A mysterious fog mixed in the sea-sprayed air, too thick to make out details.

I Found My Joy When I Found My Jesus

On a sunny wedding day and a cold time of desolation, I found my joy when I found my Jesus.

My husband Erik and I married on a sunny Saturday afternoon in the Spring at our rural hometown parish. After taking photos by the lake, we walked back to our car to catch up to the rest of our guests who were already en route to the reception. At the same time, the crowd for that evening’s Vigil Mass was settling in. We were giddy walking back, holding on to each other, talking and laughing along the way. I was trying my best to keep my heels from sinking into the grassy field while juggling my bouquet and keeping the train of my blush wedding dress from dragging in the dirt.

My Hero, My Friend

This is a story about my best friend, who went above and beyond to be there for me. My daughter was in the hospital during this time but, in the midst of so much pain, God gave us one of the most precious memories of our friendship, and my life.

Our Origin Story-

How can I even begin to explain a friendship like ours’? We met back in 2007 at tech school where we earned our Medical Assistant certifications. In class we clicked right away. We had a lot in common, both at crossroads in our lives. Me, rebuilding my life after having a baby, leaving my toxic ex and moving back to my mom’s house. She, starting over 3,000 miles away from Arizona where she lived, moving in with her dad and bettering her life for she and her daughter.

Within a few months we were not only going to school together, but working and living as roommates too! We did well in school, both graduating with honors, but our free time looked a bit different. We were a little wild back then, before conversions and reconversions but I have no regrets (okay, maybe one or two!🤭). We talked to guys, danced in clubs and sang in the car. Some of the most fun we had was just hanging out, getting ready and sharing the bathroom mirror.

Sealed With a Cross

This article first appeared on CatholicMom.com

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Cait Winters tells the story of how her kids cheer her on through the Sign of the Cross.

It was lunchtime in the middle of a typically busy homeschooling day. We had spent the morning on a hike at nature co-op and still had math, cursive and reading to cover that afternoon. Homeschooling can be hard on a home (and a homemaker!) because most days, aside from my hardworking husband, everyone is here all day long. I wouldn’t trade this time serving my family for the world, but it often means cooking three meals a day and constant cycles of washing and drying to keep up our well-loved, humble home.

That morning I had overslept, being early-pregnant and tired and didn’t have a chance to unload the perpetual dishes. It was easy to leave and forget about the chores while on our hike but coming back to them was another story. The sink was half-full already, but I had hungry kids to feed, so I fired up the stove and sudsed up what I could. The smell of cooking was turning my stomach and everywhere I looked, my to-do list grew.

I did a swat-like Sign of the Cross, blessing myself as I caught my breath and forged ahead. The Sign of the Cross is a quick way for me to ask for heaven’s help without even saying a word. I broke a sweat but got through the chores, finally setting plates and drinks out for the kids and calling them to the kitchen table.

Our Miracle Part Two

We walked this broken road in April and May. The end of the homeschool year, the end of my college semester, Mother’s Day and her peers graduating all around me as she fought for her life. It was hard but we had hope that through this trial, God was making things new.

A good Prognosis-

From the powerful Rosary mentioned in my last post on, my daughter continued to improve. There were ups and downs and it wasn’t easy but, she was well enough to breathe on her own again. We were so relieved to see her awake and somewhat alert. The next few days brought many challenges, but her prognosis was good. There were a litany of tests and therapies: bloodwork, cultures, CT, MRI, X-ray, physical therapy, occupational therapy and so many doctors, nurses, aides and staff in and out of her room at a steady pace.

My prior experience as a medical assistant, though many years ago, served me well in understanding and handling so much information. I’d often be asked by professionals if I was in the field and it reminded me how no experience is ever wasted. Not even the career “given up” to be home with your kids. My spiritual life has grown so much through the years, more than I could have imagined as a baby Catholic re-vert. Though I was blindsided, God was not surprised. He quipped me with everything I needed to persevere and be strong for my baby.

Our Miracle, From ICU to Total Healing

My daughter Autumn has always been a miracle in my life. First when she was born and again this past Spring when she experienced a radical healing.

When she was graced into my life, I was in a dark place but she was my sunshine. A little tow head with white-blonde hair and blue eyes punctuated by yellow sunbursts around the pupils. She carried me through and when my husband came into our lives, we became a family.

She is our origin story and often reminds us as we have added children, changed and grown, “I started this family!” It’s true, and we just wouldn’t be the same without her.

When the Evils of the World Convince You of the Good

A Reflection on Current Events

The world can be a dark and ugly place. People are hurt by the very ones who should love and protect them. Innocents are slain in the house of God. Parents pray education won’t cost them their babies. Families spend time with screens to ignore their flesh and blood. Little eyes are closed before they have the chance to see. Where words are violence, but murder is justified.

If it weren’t so real, we’d refuse to believe it. And we often do. Living in our ideals and pushing inconvenient truths to the side to regulate ourselves enough to make it through the day. That is, until we’re confronted with the ruthlessness of hate, the insatiability of lust, the finality of death, in a way we can’t escape.

We’re forced to face the unblinking truth that evil does exist.