Not just Workin’ for a Livin’

During these summer months, we start thinking more about vacation days, looking for ways to take a break from work. Some companies even adjust for summer hours or close for a few weeks.

Year round, advertisers try to tempt us with images of rest and leisure. They want us to imagine ourselves near the beach, idle, holding a cold drink. They paint inactivity as an ideal moment we should constantly pursue.

While we consider our vacation options this summer, as these opportunities certainly afford us periods to recharge our batteries and spend more time with family, I think we can also consider the blessings of work both at home and in our professional occupations. After all, the reality of work continues no matter the month.

Rather than looking at work as drudgery or an obligation we try to escape, St. Josemaria Escrivá, whose feast day we observe on June 26, taught that work can be a path to holiness.  “Work is a gift from God,” he said. “It is something to be sanctified and something which sanctifies.” (Christ is Passing By, 47).

The founder of Opus Dei (Latin for “Work of God”) said, “Work is part and parcel of man’s life on earth. It involves effort, weariness, exhaustion: signs of the suffering and struggle which accompany human existence and which point to the reality of sin and the need for redemption. But in itself work is not a penalty or a curse or a punishment.”

He further notes, “It makes no sense to classify men differently, according to their occupation, as if some jobs were nobler than others. Work, all work, bears witness to the dignity of man, to his dominion over creation. It is an opportunity to develop one’s personality. It is a bond of union with others, the way to support one’s family, a means of aiding in the improvement of the society in which we live and in the progress of all humanity” (Christ is Passing By, 47).

Among our Catholic devotions, there are a variety of novenas, a nine-day prayer period, to ask God for a specific intention. a “novena for work” to St. Josemaria offers some good points to consider. The focus for each of the nine days is reflected in the titles: 1. Work as a path to holiness; 2. Work done for love of God; 3. Working with order and constancy; 4. Well-finished work; 5. All honest work is dignified; 6. Work done in company with God, and with rectitude of intention; 7. Maturing in virtue though work; 8. Work as service, a help for others; and 9. Apostolate through work.

The selection from his writings and intention each day offer a closer look at the value of the work we do. They remind us of the power of prayer, love and sacrifice.

Reading further, here are a few of his words on the subject:

“Sanctity is not for a privileged few. The Lord calls all of us. He expects love from all of us — from everyone, wherever they are; from everyone, whatever their state in life, their profession or job. For the daily life we live, apparently so ordinary, can be a path to sanctity: it is not necessary to abandon one’s place in the world in order to search for God … because all the paths of the earth can be the occasion for an encounter with Christ” (Letter 24-III-1930, no. 2).

“Let us work. Let us work a lot and work well, without forgetting that prayer is our best weapon. That is why I will never tire of repeating that we have to be contemplative souls in the middle of the world, who try to convert their work into prayer.” (Furrow, Work, Chap. 15, 497)

“It is no good offering to God something that is less perfect than our poor human limitations permit. The work that we offer must be without blemish and it must be done as carefully as possible, even in its smallest details, for God will not accept shoddy workmanship. 'Thou shalt not offer anything that is faulty,' Holy Scripture warns us, 'because it would not be worthy of him.' For that reason, the work of each one of us, the activities that take up our time and energy, must be an offering worthy of our Creator. It must be operatio Dei, a work of God that is done for God: in short, a task that is complete and faultless.” (Friends of God, Working for God, 47)

“We acquire the style of contemplative souls, in the midst of our daily work! Because we become certain that he is watching us, while he asks us to conquer ourselves anew: a little sacrifice here, a smile there for someone who bothers us, beginning the least pleasant but most urgent job first, carefulness in little details of order, perseverance in the fulfilment of our duty when it would be so easy to abandon it, not leaving for tomorrow what should be finished today: and all this, to please him, Our Father God!”  (Friends of God, Working for God, 67)

St. Josemaria’s writings are reinvigorating, placing work in a new light. While we are “workin’ for a livin’" as intoned in the 1980’s song by Huey Lewis and the News, our work can also sanctify us. No matter how monotonous or challenging, our prayers direct our approach. And this makes all the difference, filling each task with joy.

(Originally published in June 2018 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)

While we wait, a word on patience, time

Pedir, confiar y esperar” (Ask, trust and wait). Father Ignacio Luna, one of our retired priests who recently published a collection of poetry, opens his poem “3 Virtudes,” with these key words. The last word, esperar, makes me stumble.

Our addiction to immediacy pushes us towards impatience. We have an aversion to waiting. Hence, the growing tide of fast foods, overnight deliveries and on-demand videos. We have fed a microwave culture, and allowed it to ensnare us.

Daily we are caught in moments of waiting, waiting for something to occur or waiting at times for God to respond to our prayers. In a world that continually pushes for speed and efficiency, patience seems to get lost in the rush.

Waiting, however, helps us cultivate patience. We can choose to get agitated when confronted with a delay, or we can opt instead to reframe the moment. Consider the purpose for the extra time.

For example, no one likes to wait in line, but we wait when we deem something worthy enough of our time.  In April, on our last day in Rome after attending a seminar for church communication offices, we wanted to visit the Vatican and pray inside St. Peter’s Basilica. The line seemed endless. It curved like a river with thousands of people. It took an hour and a half before we cleared security to walk inside the basilica. It was certainly worth the wait to enter the largest Catholic Church in the world.

After our visit, I realized that the waiting provided us with time to talk to people, to share stories. It allowed time for the encounter with one another, with people we might have seen in passing but never stopped to get to know like the newlyweds from Ohio  on their honeymoon and the family from Poland. A young man, Bartłomiej, was holding a spot for his elderly parents who were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. His mother was confirmed by Father Karol Wojtyła in Poland, St. John Paul II when he was a priest.

During Lent, we were waiting for Easter, anticipating the Resurrection. Lent gave us time to prepare ourselves through prayer, almsgiving and fasting for the special feast day.

Patience is not an excuse to sit idle. During the wait-time, there is likely something we can begin doing. Also, special graces may be occurring of which we may not be fully aware. Just as we can’t see all the work roots undertake beneath the soil, a transformation may be occurring, or something may be taking shape beyond our knowing, beyond what we can see.

In May, the month of Mary, we can take some lessons from our Blessed Mother. Saint Alphonsus Liguori, in his book The Glories of Mary reminds us, “God gave us the Blessed Virgin Mary as a model of all virtues, but more especially as an example of patience.”

As a mother, I also have a growing appreciation for St. Monica, who prayed for 17 years for the conversion of her son St. Augustine of Hippo. St. Monica never gave up on her loved ones, as her prayers also led to the conversion of her husband and her mother-in-law.

In reference to the word esperar, Father Luna writes in his poem, “…espera sin desesperar / la respuesta divina, / pues Dios sabe en qué / momento, nos da lo pedido.” (waiting without despair the divine response, God knows the moment in which he will grant what was asked.)

With these words, he reminds we need to trust a response will come in God’s time frame. As much as we like to set our own deadlines, we need to recognize there is a value to waiting.

It may be helpful to remember this in our day-to-day undertakings.

“When will you make an end?” asks Pope Julius II of Michelangelo in the movie, The Agony and the Ecstasy. Impatient for the completion of the Sistine Chapel, the pope pressured the artist to hurry. Michelangelo’s response: “When I’m finished.”

Indeed, a masterpiece can’t always be rushed. Michelangelo’s frescos, on the famous ceiling that now draws more than 20,000 visitors each day, were unveiled four years after he started his work. Consider the community at Sacred Heart Parish in Hidalgo. They spent 13 years to raise and save money for their new church which should be completed by June.

While we may not have been commissioned for something as grand as the Sistine Chapel or to build a church, anything worth doing well requires patience and time. This includes our personal growth and our relationships with others. We are all a work in progress. Perhaps learning to be patient with ourselves, others, and God is part of the journey.

In his prayer “Patient Trust,” the late Jesuit Priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin notes, “Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.”

He ends: “Give our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.”

We can also take a cue from the parable of the persistent widow and remember “to pray always without becoming weary.” (Luke 18: 1-8)

(Originally published in May 2018 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)

How one year turned into a 20-year pilgrimage

Twenty years ago, my son was in first grade, my daughter in preschool. I was content working for a school district at the time and taking graduate classes, on track with the 10 and 20-year-plan I outlined for my family and myself. However, God had other plans. I did not realize at the time, but he was calling me home, back to the Church. His accomplice, my husband who faxed in my résumé to the diocese, helped me pay attention.

When I started in 1998, I did not know what to expect. I thought I would try it out for a year. Fast forward to 2018 where April 6 marks the 20-year anniversary of my first day on the job. But the word “job” no longer fits, as the journey taught me that my work here is a ministry. Likewise, these years have served as ongoing catechesis and provided some life-changing lessons.

Learning to surrender ranks as one of the most impactful lessons. Connected to this came lessons in patience and humility. Also, I count the gift of each encounter with the people in our diocese which continually reinforces the intricate ways God connects us to one another. 

The pilgrimage continues and I still have much more to learn. For now, I leave you with two poems from my manuscript titled Somewhere Between Surrender.

The Painter Stirs Each Moment

He paints pink oleanders in my backyard, blends

greens into shade, into palms, basil, bougainvillea,

adds salmon into the mix. He stirs blues of the sky

with grays, oranges, pinks. He creates colors we

try to name, gives light, whispers his directions.

The path sometimes blurs in my eyes. He wakes

me with aromas peppered with spice, the perfume

of gardenias, the voice of love, the cries of my

babies gone now, making their own ways,

the premonitions afloat en el Rio Grande

with songs from la frontera.

Mixed media on canvas. Los consejos de mi mama,

la industria de mi abuela, the chess moves my

father tried to teach me, the birdhouses I painted

with mis pequeños, their laughter a contagious tint.

He holds some colors in reserve. Offers hues we

might not dare. He gifts the lizards their own

paintbrush, these chameleons that scale my

porch screens. He, the master painter, in the light

of the Resurrection. I, his apprentice, his groupie,

his skinned-kneed child. I paint with bloodied palms,

color all over the page. I cannot sing, hold a tune,

tantas las canciones, but I write, try to capture

lightning on the page, try to end the hunger, try

to keep from catching fire, catch daylight, answers,

hear the symphony of the hours in each moment.

A Work in Progress

Our expectations falter, critical selves of missteps

and falls. He picks us up, trusts us, again

and again and again. He wants to hear our laughter, cheers

us on, wipes our tears. Abba, I am your work in progress.

Yet you deliver surprises with a bouquet of red

kalanchoes wrapped in Sunday comics.

He does not count promises, disappointments; he picks

us up, gathers our dandelion florets scattered by

day's wind, nudges us in the direction, through hikes

in el Valle's wild, witness the gold blooms on the huisache.

If cactus flowers bring spring to the desert,

I offer my day, my poems, in prayer, in thanksgiving. Ni

el frio de Abril, ni la inquietud del miedo me quita

el ánimo. I wake each day for you Lord, incomplete I look

to discover your work in progress, your surprises, todas

tus maravillas. I surrender. May my pilgrimage walk

give witness to his love.

Look! Where are you focusing your lens?

Lately I have been looking back at photos from recent trips and some from years past. I enjoy this traveling back in time. This practice helps me tickle a memory awake and see again what I might have rushed through when I originally snapped the picture.

The opportunity to see again helps me count the blessing of a moment beyond what was captured by the camera. Each image emerges as a line in a poem or in a story. Sometimes I am also surprised by what I see in the photo that was not the focus at the time. With this comes the recognition that we don’t always see everything that stands before us.

Alexandra Horowitz, in her book On Looking: Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes, notes, “The world is wildly distracting.” We simply can’t take it all in, so we learn to see without really seeing. She adds, “Expertise changes what you see and hear, and it even changes what you can attend to.”

Consider your own focus from day to day. After a long weekend, we often have to refocus ourselves on our work and the week ahead. Where your focus lies determines what you will see. Consider as well that our lens can get blurry as we proceed on autopilot or in a rush, and we may not always see what stands in front of us.

Lent, which calls us to spiritual growth as we walk together as community to Easter, helps us pay attention to where we point our lens. During this Lenten season, we can refocus our eyes on our faith life, on the people in our lives and those in need; and on the blessings we sometimes take for granted.

Pope Francis in his Message for Lent said, “Lent summons us, and enables us, to come back to the Lord wholeheartedly and in every aspect of our life.”

In essence, it helps us focus, look more closely. It’s healthy to pause from the rush that can take us off track. Bishop Mario Avilés, who led a Lenten Retreat for our diocesan staff in February, cautioned us to be mindful of what we do and what we see. We have to be careful, he said, with thorns on the path that can choke our faith life and our relationship with others.

Speaking about the reality of sin, Pope Francis reminds us in his Lenten Message, “In order to confound the human heart, the devil, who is ‘a liar and the father of lies’ (Jn 8:44), has always presented evil as good, falsehood as truth. That is why each of us is called to peer into our heart to see if we are falling prey to the lies of these false prophets. We must learn to look closely, beneath the surface, and to recognize what leaves a good and lasting mark on our hearts, because it comes from God and is truly for our benefit.”

Almsgiving, one of the spiritual practices of Lent, provides us as well with an opportunity to see through another’s eyes, or through their perspective to gain a better understanding of what others might be dealing with.

In his homily on Ash Wednesday, Bishop Daniel E. Flores emphasized that during Lent we walk together towards the Cross and the Resurrection. To walk together, he said,  means we are connected to each other. Those connections are deep and imply some responsibilities to one another.

While the grain of the world has always been individualistic, Bishop Flores said, the clarion call of the Lenten season is to be people of mercy. Mercy is being able to respond to the person in need next to you, just as Jesus responded.

Ultimately, Lent is about refocusing our lives as Christians upon the connections we have. Starting with prayer, he said. “Prayer connects us to God. If we aren’t praying and asking God for help, how can we be of any good and use to anybody else?”

Bishop Flores added that almsgiving is “recognizing that what I have is not just for me alone, that I have a responsibility to use the goods that God puts in my possession for the good of other people.” It is “about that sense of giving of yourself, not just about material things, but of the time you have, and the support you give each other. He advises us to more conscious about how we treat each other, starting with family and friends.

The Holy Father tells us as well, “Love can also grow cold in our own communities.” He reminds us, that in the Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, he “sought to describe the most evident signs of this lack of love: selfishness and spiritual sloth, sterile pessimism, the temptation to self-absorption, constant warring among ourselves, and the worldly mentality that makes us concerned only for appearances, and thus lessens our missionary zeal.”

By focusing on the people in our lives, we can prevent love from growing cold in our communities, and it might help us see something we might be missing. We might also try to see through another person’s perspective – an elderly family member or someone in our community in need.

As we begin to pay more attention on where we focus our lens, we may gain a better vantage point to recognize and appreciate the everyday moments in our lives, and maybe to see with the eyes of a child and their sense of wonder. Consider too the value of looking with all our senses, not just our eyes.

Indeed, Lent is a time for fasting, almsgiving and prayer. It is also a time to count our blessings. How often do we thank the Lord for the graces in our lives?

(Originally published in March 2018 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)

Transitions, letting go and new beginnings

Our little birds will fly

Joy overflowed on the eve of New Year’s Eve, Dec. 30, as my son and new daughter-in-law were married at the Immaculate Conception Cathedral in Brownsville.

The bride’s talented mother did a beautiful job overseeing all the details for their themed wedding – “Let love grow.” The Wedding Mass and reception provided the perfect occasion to celebrate their new beginning as husband and wife and as leaders of their “domestic church.” It also provided a perfect backdrop to gather family and friends.

As mother of the groom, I held fewer responsibilities. I did not have to worry about all the details. While I usually tend to juggle multiple projects with a checklist in hand, always feeling pressured for time, on this occasion I welcomed the grace of time to pray before Mass, to be present for family, to take in each moment.

The flurry of emotions such a milestone moment brings caught me off guard. Lydia Pesina with the Family Life Office reminds us often that every stage of family life comes with rewards and losses. Rewards are obvious as we celebrate the sacrament of marriage. Yes. I know: “I am not losing a son; I am gaining a daughter.” This certainly brings our family great joy.

However, we do not often speak about the losses. These losses are part of the transitions that take place as children leave the nest and start their own families. Naturally, we want this for our children. We want them to become independent responsible adults. Over the years, we have walked through various stages – learning how to drive, leaving for college, living on their own, becoming financially independent, and now marriage.

At each stage, our roles as parents change, as do our relationships. They no longer depend on us in the same way as when they were children. Holidays will take on a different feel as they divide their time between families and start their own traditions. And I am now a mother-in-law and no longer the main woman in my son’s life. I can accept these roles. We learn to let go. Learn to trust more and more in God to guide them. However, we continue to worry about their health, their safety, their wellbeing.

I confess, though, that hearing my son refer to his mother-in-law and me as his “two moms” stung a bit. That is a role I am not quite ready to share. Although I am grateful that his new in-laws love my son, it will still take some time for me to adjust. I can accept that I am no longer the main woman in my son’s life, but the role of a mother is different.

I remember the words the deacon at St. Anthony Parish in Harlingen shared 27 years ago as he led the baptismal classes. He reminded us parents and godparents that our children are on loan to us from God. Hence, as I let go and celebrate new beginnings, I recall the words of St. James who tells us to “consider it all joy.” Jas 1:2

I also focus my eyes on our Blessed Mother Mary, who is an example for all mothers. I invite you to share your stories and consejos about some of your transitions and letting-go moments as your children set out to live their own lives. As we share, we learn together.

 

For now, I treasure each second my son and I shared during the mother-son dance. My son chose the song titled “The First Lady in My Life,” by Paul Todd.  We laughed; we cried; we shared a private moment even as everyone watched.

I am grateful for my role as a mother. I know too, my role as a prayer warrior will grow, and no matter how old my adult children are, I will continue to give them a blessing before they depart my home or my presence.

(Originally published in February 2018 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)

Gift of silence and solitude

New Year, new calendar to fill. I imagine we share a similar story as the days in 2018 begin to unfold. Just a few days into the year and already my calendar rushes me ahead to the coming months as I fill the dates for future events.

We just finished what sometimes feels like a rush through Advent and into the Christmas season. The speed of life can leave us breathless. As a remedy, I find silence and solitude essential. This can take the form of a mini retreat or even just a few short moments alone without any distractions, without music, television, or any other noise. Setting aside such time is most helpful for prayer. Without it, how can we make sure the rhythm of our lives is in tune with God’s will for us? 

A dear friend has been inviting me to learn more about contemplative prayer, which the St. Teresa of Avila said, “means taking time frequently to be alone with him who we know loves us.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2709.)

I confess I struggle with staying still, but I think contemplative prayer may help me find a balance to the sometimes crazy tempo in my life.

I have also come to appreciate the simple pleasures of the ordinary – the art of lingering, of drinking a cup of green jasmine tea, of reading a few pages from a book, or even preparing a meal or taking a short walk.  Always I emerge refreshed and ready to tackle the next challenge.

If we are constantly in motion, running through our to-do list, even adding to it before we have a chance to complete the list, if we are incessantly caught up in all the chatter of the world, if our mind has lost some focus, if we start to lose our creative spark, it may be time to retreat. Sometimes we need a “Do Not Disturb” sign to create some space to rest and recharge.

Winter, with the darker nights and cold chills that cue nature to rest before a spring rebirth, reminds us it is healthy to take a break. What joy, though, knowing dormant periods are opportunities for regrowth, for renewal.

Silence and solitude give us space to think, to hear our own voice. The world grows loud with others’ ideas and opinions. Finding time to process and form our own ideas takes time. Social media, which helps keep us connected to our ever-widening community and provides us with some valuable communications tools and countless idea resources, grows overzealous for our time. There is simply too much to take in as we scroll through hundreds and thousands of posts daily.

It is healthy to step away from all the noise in the world; healthy to rest and recharge. Just as we sometimes have to turn off and restart our computers, we have to refresh ourselves. When was the last time you took a nap? How did you feel afterwards? I used to take naps on Sunday afternoons. It’s been awhile, but I remember how refreshing they felt.

The gift to myself this January and in this New Year – some silence and solitude, some time for contemplative prayer. Even if it’s just for a few short moments interspersed amidst all the rush and chatter, I am going to make use of my virtual “Do Not Disturb” sign. I am especially going to make sure my calendar includes scheduled time for prayer before the Blessed Sacrament.

As noted in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, “One does not undertake contemplative prayer only when one has the time: one makes time for the Lord, with the firm determination not to give up, no matter what trials and dryness one may encounter. One cannot always meditate, but one can always enter into inner prayer, independently of the conditions of health, work, or emotional state. The heart is the place of this quest and encounter, in poverty and in faith.” (CC 2710)

(Originally published in January 2018 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)

Corn tortillas, beans and rice

A story of response, love and abundance

Two sisters on their way back from buying bread and milk for breakfast one morning waited for the train to pass. As the train, known as La Bestia (the Beast), slowed down they saw some men appear and several yelled out, “Madre, tenemos hambre; regálanos tu pan.”

The sisters did not hesitate to give them their bread and milk. People were hungry. After sharing the story with their family and at their mother’s suggestion, the next day they prepared 30 food packets with corn tortillas, beans and rice, and then listened for the train.

That day in 1995 changed their lives, said Norma Romero from the small town of Guadalupe (La Patrona), Veracruz, Mexico. “It made us more conscious of the realities we’re living. Too often, we ignore what is happening around us.”

At the time, “We didn’t know where they were going; we didn’t know about the immigration issues; we didn’t know if they were here legally or illegally. When one wants to help, the last thing you think about is their legal status. For us they were humans,” and that is all that mattered, she said.

Romero, who visited McAllen in October, shared the story of the women now referred to as Las Patronas, denoting the name of their town. In Spanish, the word patrona also means boss or protector.  For Romero, the name reminds her they are working under the patronage of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe and doing God’s work.

For the past 22 years the women, campesinas from La Patrona, have fed thousands of migrants traveling from Central America. “Donde hay amor, no hay cansancio,” she said. Where there is love, there is no fatigue.

Listening to her story, underscores the importance of our initial response when we see someone in need. These women did not hesitate to help the moment they heard the words – “Madre, tenemos hambre; regálanos tu pan.” And 22 years later their response has not diminished. It has grown.

Las Patronas now have a shelter named El Comedor la Esperanza del Migrante. With the help of the community and other contributors and volunteers they prepare up to 300 meals daily which they toss to migrants as the train passes.

We see this response here in our own community. Close to home, we have our own Norma, Sister Norma Pimentel, director of Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley, who one day in June 2014 responded with a yes when she heard there were immigrants at the bus station in McAllen who needed a place to rest. With her yes, other yeses followed from near and far from people who came to volunteer and provide needed supplies at the Humanitarian Respite Center at Sacred Heart Church in McAllen.

Both Normas and those who help them illustrate all that can be done when you see a need and take action. The capacity of a generous heart provides light and hope.

During her visit in McAllen, Romero spent some time with Sister Norma and visited the Respite Center.

“It gives me hope and joy,” she said, “to know there are others who are supporting our migrant brothers and sisters. Each day God is bringing more of us together, helping us grow in solidarity, not just with our brother migrants but also as a team.

“This space represents hope in the midst of so much violence and evil. There is hope, but above all there is love. I feel as if I am in my home, because these are spaces where God is, where you feel the solidarity, you feel the brotherhood.”

Romero added, “We all need to continue working and need to be conscious of all they are living and how they managed to arrive here, all the obstacles they had to overcome.”

Bishop Flores reminds us God wants our response, and this response is a grace. But in order for us to respond, we must be ready, he said. We must read the Gospels, share them with our children, with our families.

At the Diocesan Encuentro Mass on Oct. 14, Bishop Flores reflected on the image of the Virgin Mary reading, as she is often depicted in many paintings. He pointed out she is reading the scriptures, meditating on the words of God and the prophets. She was ready to respond when the angel appeared to her at the Annunciation.

"Dios quiere un pueblo capaz de recibir la gracia y de responder." / God wants a community capable of receiving his grace and responding.

“Pero tiene que tocar el corazón,” he said. It must reach the heart.

While Thanksgiving provides us an occasion to express our gratitude for the abundance in our lives, year round we need to be ready to respond where needed so that we may say yes to God’s call and be a blessing to others.

As Romero notes when she talks about her work, “We are all Church. From the moment we were blessed with baptism. We need to work in God’s kingdom.”

We don’t need great wealth. But in our response we can find an abundance to share. Let’s go listen for the train. Las Patronas show us it starts with a generous heart, and perhaps with some corn tortillas, rice and beans. 

(Originally published in November 2017 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)