Blogger’s Note: Originally published on the Saint Andrew Catholic Church and School website, July 25, 2018.
Last weekend was a whirlwind. We hosted a graduation party for our second son, Gabe, which meant that my parents, their dog, and my eldest son’s girlfriend, Becky, joined the seven of us and our dog in our three-bedroom house Friday through Sunday. The Engels—six in number, and as much family as our blood relatives—spent much of the daylight hours and a few after dark with us as well. The house was packed to the rafters and filled with laughter; the weather was wonderful, the turnout was great, and a joy was pervasive among almost everyone.
Almost everyone, except me. Continue reading
Blogger’s Note: This is the latest in a collection of daily posts outlining my journey to the Sacred Heart over the past year or more. See an overview and links to past posts here.
As with my first “Heartstrings” post, I keep noticing little connections to the Sacred Heart from earlier in my family life.
Posted to Facebook, Sept. 4, 2011: “A little end-of-summer love: Gabe saw it first; Emma noted that she was wearing her Burning Love t-shirt (featuring 1 Corinthians 13:4-7: ‘Love is patient, love is kind…’), and Trevor noticed it has three nails in it, just like Jesus…”
This is the shirt Emma was wearing in the post above. Notice the image of the Sacred Heart on it. I picked it for her.
In the past two weeks, I’ve written a couple posts on the crazy busy-ness of May with three teens and a kindergartner in the house, a globetrotting college student returning home, and a 10-month-old puppy in a dog’s body underfoot. The schedule has not relented: Continue reading
It’s been a heck of a spring so far. I’ve been buried in work, not to mention snow and unexpected auto repairs. Jodi and I are like ships passing much of the time, except morning prayer, which we’ve managed to maintain. I’ve missed as many of the kids’ activities as I’ve made in the past month, but I see them in while I run, stop to stop, dropping them off and picking them up.
And Bruno waits at the top of the stairs, watching for someone to come in and up, casually stretching, closer and closer, straining for a pet or a pat, hoping for a walk or a car ride at least.
It’s go, go, go as the school year winds down—but this week has been something else entirely. Continue reading
“Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” – John 20:29
How dark a Sabbath dawned the day after Jesus’s crucifixion: the so-called savior dead and in the ground; his disciples scattered, and the Passover at hand—a remembrance of freedom for God’s chosen people, once again marked under Roman rule.
Our Holy Saturday is not so dark, for although we did not walk with the living Lord or see His risen self, we know the story and believe what we have heard—that fear-filled seventh day was followed by an eighth, a day of resurrection and re-creation. A day of joy and wonder.
So we rise this Holy Saturday, not with trepidation, but anticipation. We rise to the same hell-bent, broken world the apostles did, still filled with pride and pain and broken people; we look with wonder this morning at four inches of fresh snow fallen silently over night and rejoice that God has seen fit to grace us with another day, another hour, another breath. Continue reading