Category: Faith

My unexpected miracle healing (part one)

Published on by susanwbailey1 Comment

In the last post I wrote about my dear friend and the inner healing she received from God as she copes with Ménière’s disease.

I would now like to share my own story of healing from God, a healing I consider miraculous.

sue with classical guitar croppedSome of you may know that I was a professional singer and songwriter, focusing on songs about my faith. For many years I recorded CDs and appeared on EWTN and CatholicTV. I was blessed with the opportunity to perform at World Youth Day 2002 in Toronto. I served for thirty-seven years in various capacities of music ministry in my home parish.

I poured my heart and soul into my music. Only my faith and my family meant more.

Four years ago, only a few months after my mother died I noticed that my voice was becoming weak. It always seemed to fail when I was performing in front of a crowd. Sometimes the clear, strong sound I was accustomed to would sail out of my throat; at other times this weak and wobbly noise would come out instead. I never knew when it would happen and I cringed at the sound of it.

My voice had been rock-solid; now it was erratic.
Once totally at home in front of people, I became terrified of singing in public.

I had to put a halt to my music career. I stopped doing live performances and resigned from music ministry at my parish.

It was a difficult loss to accept and the grieving process was not unlike mourning the death of my mother.

Four years later I can claim a healing.

It was completely unexpected and not something I asked for.

from http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=28
from http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=28

It began with having my throat blessed by the priest after mass in honor of the feast of St. Blaise. St. Blaise is the patron saint of ailments of the throat; legend has it that he cured a boy who got a fishbone caught in his throat.

from www.itmonline.org
from http://www.itmonline.org

The priest takes two candles crossed together and places them on the throat while reciting a short prayer.

The line was long since the priest insisted on doing the blessings himself. It gave me time to reflect. Did I want a healing? Did I believe I could be healed? I nearly stepped out of line but decided to stay. After my throat was blessed I left the church in tears.

I had no idea what would come of it. It turned out to be far more than I ever expected.

Consider this scripture where Jesus says “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Luke 6:38 (NIV).

Consider too the story of the handful of loaves and fishes feeding five thousand from Matthew 14:13-21.

These two scripture passages set the stage for the healing I was about to receive because I left myself open to what God wanted to give.

Stay tuned …

miracle of the loaves and fishes
miracle of the loaves and fishes

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Healing versus a cure: There is definitely a difference!

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I believe in healing. Not a just a cure but a healing.

Doctors provide cures; that’s their job. They note your symptoms, attempt a diagnosis and then offer treatment. It can all be rather clinical and impersonal. I don’t blame doctors; they are not trained to be counselors (though a treatment of the whole person is certainly the ideal). Medicine does offer some amazing cures. But does a cure guarantee a healing?

Just what is the difference?

The ultimate physician

from pastorblog.cumcdebary.org
from pastorblog.cumcdebary.org

Jesus was a healer. He also called himself a physician (see Luke 4:23). And he desired mercy. When he healed the sick, he did not just cure the ailment.

Take the paralytic on the mat in Luke, chapter 5. He is lowered down through the ceiling by his friends so that he can see Jesus.

What is the first thing Jesus does for him? Does he tell the man to “pick up his mat and walk?” Eventually.

But first he attends to his soul by forgiving his sins.

He discerns that the man’s deeper suffering was interior.

The man was already healed by the time he was cured.

One woman’s story of healing

I have a dear friend who suffers from a disease of the inner ear known as Ménière’s. It makes her dizzy and nauseous; this makes any kind of movement difficult. Walking, riding in a car, just moving her head: this all contributes to the symptoms. It has left a once vibrant woman homebound. And yet, the other day, she told me she was healed. It began several years ago at a healing service. She had the disease but didn’t ask for a cure. Rather, she left herself open to whatever God wished to grant her. She ended up on her knees crying copious tears.

She still has the disease, but she is healed.

Staying connected to life

Like the paralytic my friend is healed from within. She accepts her fate and lives with it. Despite her physical pain each day has a purpose. She makes a plan and tries to accomplish something whether it is cooking (which she enjoys), changing the bed sheets, doing laundry or general cleanup. She stays connected with her friends and goes out to lunch with them even though she is nauseous and her walking labored because of the dizziness.

My friend is still quite physically ill. How did she become healed from within?

Staying connected to God

My friend makes a point of spending ample time with God. She sits in her rocking chair, closes her eyes and meditates for long periods of time. She prays the Rosary and watches the morning mass on TV. She listens to religious music while falling asleep.

She immerses herself in God, filling her head and heart with good things, just as St. Paul in spelled out in Philipians 4:8: ” … whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

She told me a cure would be most welcome. But she assured me she is healed.

Healing the whole person

suffering and the nature of healingI am reading a fascinating book called Suffering and the Nature of Healing. It is written by Daniel Hinshaw, M.D. He writes from the point of view of a physician but also as an Orthodox Christian. He is focused on the incarnation of Christ and Christ as the Great Physician. It’s where a lot of the ideas in this post came from. His overall thrust is the care of the Total Person: physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual. Dr. Hinshaw maintains that modern medicine usually stresses the physical, forgetting about the other three.

There is a disconnect between the physical symptoms and the person experiencing those symptoms.

The ideal physician

Dr. Hinshaw’s book describes the ideal for physicians in the treatment of their patients: that of imitating Christ, the Great Physician.

Jesus’ intent in his healings was always about the whole person; he was intimate with that person.

Over and over again he reached out to individuals, touching them, using primitive healing techniques (such as the mud for the blind man’s eyes), lifting up Peter’s sick mother-in-law by the hand, calling out the woman who touched his cloak for healing to present herself. He wept at the grave of Lazarus, his good friend before raising him from the dead, keenly aware of the grief around him.

Jesus reaches out to the whole person, not the parts. He also reaches out to the community surrounding that person.

from praycatholic.wordpress.com
from praycatholic.wordpress.com

Personal healing

Jesus never forgets who we really are. He longs to show his mercy and bestow his healing if we would but ask.

My friend with Ménière’s knows that and now I know it too. And not just because I know my friend’s story: I now have one as well.

In my next post, I will share about my personal healing. It’s nothing short of miraculous especially because of the way it happened. I am so full of gratitude and wonder over my healing that often when I pass a church, I stop, go inside and say thank you to God over and over.

But that’s for next time.

How do you feel about your doctor? Does he or she know your story? Have you offered it?

Have you experienced a healing from God?

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Christós Anésti! Christ is Risen! Happy Easter

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To all of you, a blessed and happy Easter. Here are some scenes from last night’s Easter Vigil at St. Luke the Evangelist in Westboro, MA, my home parish.

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A simple prayer reflection for Good Friday

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This is from my latest column on Catholicmom.com. It is taken from the Mary, Queen of Peace Meditation Guide & Sung Rosary booklet.

5th-sorrowful-betania-II-for-web-294x400
photo taken at Betania II, Medway, MA – from the Mary, Queen of Peace Meditation Guide & Sung Rosary

Much has been said by wiser minds on all that took place on Good Friday. As I cannot add anything to enhance these insights, I thought instead to offer you a simple meditation on the crucifix as a way of honoring and learning from our Lord’s great suffering for us.

Gazing upon the crucifix, begin by reciting or chanting “Lord, have mercy” five times (you can chant the phrase by just singing the same note for each word). Each time it is recited, focus on a wound on Christ’s body.

For example, recite “Lord, have mercy” and meditate on Christ’s feet. Recite it again and focus on the left hand. Recite it a third time and meditate on the right hand. Recite it again and gaze on the wound in his side. Then recite it a fifth time and focus on the head.

Repeat this cycle eight times, thus reciting or chanting the prayer forty times in total.

In my meditations I found, for example, that as I focused on the nail marks in His feet, I thought about where those feet had traveled. I studied the wounded hands and wondered whom they had healed. I thought about his heart, pierced and yet so full of love. I thought about the head and the emotional and mental agony he went through, and yet also marveled at all the wisdom and knowledge that resided in that head. I recalled his teachings, exhortations, and words of comfort.

These are just some of the places where this meditation can take you. May the Spirit of the Living Lord guide you as you gaze upon his wounds and contemplate his love.

For a further Good Friday meditation in video and song, click here.

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Taking advantage of the season of Lent through a notebook and a chunk of time

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For many Christians, the late winter/early spring signifies a time of stepping back and examining how we are practicing our faith. It is a time of assessing our failings and sins: how have we strayed from God as the center of our lives? How have we forgotten the needs of family members, friends and strangers? How can we come back home to God?

The season of Lent

In my Roman Catholic tradition, this time of assessment is known as Lent. In my childhood I recall purple cloth (signifying penance or, being sorry for your sins) all over the church, covering the statues. It was a time to give up chocolate or some other treat as a symbol of penance.

lent statues covered in purple

Lent is so much more

As an adult, Lent can offer so many wonderful opportunities if we can get beyond our preconceived childish notions and misunderstandings. The words “penance” and “sacrifice” and even the color purple can denote negative thoughts and feelings when in fact, they offer chances for healing and purification. The word “repent,” often misunderstood, brings reconciliation and wholeness. Just as the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32)

The true meaning

I like to think of the Prodigal Son, despairing and destitute, falling into the loving arms of his Father. Coming back home prompted merrymaking on the part of his father rather than judgment. This is such a beautiful illustration of turning around and coming home, the true meaning of repentance. It is a moment of sorrow that leads to celebration.

from http://goinswriter.com/prodigal-son/
from http://goinswriter.com/prodigal-son/

Searching your soul

The Prodigal had to do a lot of soul searching to humble himself and come back home to his father. After all, in essence, he told his father to “drop dead” by taking his inheritance money early. We can learn from his example.

Tools for soul searching

Keeping a journal, whether you are a writer or not, is a wonderful way to search your soul. I took up the practice again a couple of years ago and find it especially helpful for sorting out confusing times in my life. A block of quiet time and a notebook can help you connect the past with the present in powerful ways. It can even be life-changing.

lent purple journal
from http://yourhighestself.com.au/why-journal/

Tough times make for good soul searching

Since writing things down was not done in the Prodigal Son’s time, he had sort out his life without that tool. He had the other essential tool however: time. As he was feeding pigs and longing to eat his fill, he had plenty of time to recall his past life (which he realized had been quite good), his past behavior (taking his inheritance and squandering it) and his current situation. He realized in the end it was worth the price of killing his pride to come back home to his father.

My soul searching

We are lucky because we can write things down. Of late I have been exploring in my journal why I feel the way I do about losing my singing voice and music in general (a series of posts for another day) and have made some important discoveries about how I have treated (or mistreated) this special gift that God gave to me. It has shone a glaring spotlight on past sins which I am now bringing before God, asking for forgiveness.

I am using my Lenten journey to focus on how I can too return home to my heavenly Father, make peace with past actions, and learn again to embrace my gift for his people and his glory. Through taking the time to be quiet and write down my thoughts, I have been able to navigate through murky waters and come to understand what I did, how I feel, and how everything can be made right again.

Connections and healing

More than one author I know has told me they see writing as a spiritual experience, even as prayer. I am beginning to see this too. I do know it helps me connect the fragments of my life, bring them together and make sense of them. This is the beginning of wholeness and healing.

How are you taking advantage of Lent this year?

Share with us what you are doing.

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Favorite toys, family memories, blessings remembered … what did you get for Christmas?

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I loved Christmas as a kid.

Like all kids I’d be up half the night, listening to the activity down in the living room where my dad would be putting together a bicycle or building some other contraption. He’d sometimes ring the jingle bells that hung on our front door because he knew my sister, brother and I were listening; we swore Santa was on our roof with his sleigh full of toys! My older sister would peak down the stairs to spy.

It was such a long wait until 6am when we would run downstairs to open our gifts.

I have fond memories of toys from Christmas past. Among my favorites:

doll and dollhouseSuzy Smart, a talking schoolgirl doll

A magnetic dollhouse – the magnets were on wands and I used to love whipping the family members through the house!

bike and clothesMy first 26 inch bicycle

Barbie clothes, especially the ones my cousin Janie made for me. The white levis were the coolest!

All the cute nature-related stocking stuffers – they were the best!

christmas morningHere’s what we looked like on Christmas morning – my dad could never resist taking a picture and as you can see, we were just thrilled:

When we were a little older, we were required to wait until our grandparents came over before gifts could be opened. Sometimes they wouldn’t arrive until two in the afternoon; that’s a long wait for a kid! I managed to take satisfaction in the fact we still had gifts to open while the rest of the kids in the neighborhood had long ago opened theirs.

Christmas becomes quieter as we grow older  …

although sharing it with small children keeps the magic alive. My husband bought and put together a huge Brio train set for our then one year old son; he ended up playing with the box!

brio trains

But now at 27, he keeps that box of wooden tracks and trains under his old bed at our home to keep for future generations.

Christmas these days is tinged with a bit of melancholy,

remembering parents and other beloved family members who have passed on. This year’s holiday was especially poignant with the thought of my older sister Christine and her husband Tom soon moving down south for their retirement.

We enjoyed a lovely last get-together at their home sharing mementos and memories.

The gathering was intimate: just Christine and Tom, our own family of four and older brother Tommy. Christine set the table with the silver, delicate white tablecloth, cloth napkins and embroidered place mats belonging to our maternal grandmother. Dinners in their Tudor dining room, complete with leaded windows, and a curved entrance with a wrought-iron gate, were formal; this dinner was warm as we each shared something we were grateful for before eating.

Upon opening presents we each received a precious remembrance of past loved ones.

Christine and Tom had recently cleaned out their attic and decided to distribute family mementos. I received my mother’s diploma from Wellesley College along with a special poem and remembrance from her retirement in 1984 from the Botany Department at the college.

Tommy received plans, drawings and photos of miniature ships that our paternal grandfather, known as Pom Pom, had built. We all marveled at the incredible precision and accuracy of the drawings and models; I knew that talent had passed down from grandfather to father to son and felt proud. Here’s a sample drawing from our “Pom Pom” of his 1912 car:

pom pom's car

The day ended quietly and once home,
I indulged in my favorite Christmas present this year,

daktarisent by my brother-in-law and his wife who live an hour outside of Los Angeles. They gave me a DVD of the complete first season of Daktari, a children’s TV show that I loved as a kid (from Wikipedia: The show follows the work of Dr. Tracy, his daughter Paula and his staff, who frequently protected animals from poachers and local officials. Tracy’s pets, a cross-eyed lion named Clarence and a chimpanzee named Judy, were also popular characters.).

It was particularly special that it came from Tim for he loves old TV shows and collects autographs and memorabilia. We had visited them over the summer and Tim and I had talked about favorite TV shows. It touched my heart that he remembered and I literally squealed when I tore off the paper and saw his gift.

So for a little while I became 10 years again, pretending I was Daktari’s daughter, living in Africa taking care of and communing with the animals (especially the big cats!).

Christmas Day was magical again.

But most importantly, thoughts of the baby Jesus and His birth into my life and so many others was never far from my mind. I was pleased to light all four of my advent candles for dinner with our son just before Christmas:

advent wreath with votives

A lovely tabletop tree highlights the manger scene:

manger

Magical, yes. And blessed. Merry Christmas!

How was your Christmas? What were your favorite toys from Santa?

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Solace in the rose-colored candle: a prayer for the 26 Innocents of Newtown, CT

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Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! So says Saint Paul in the fourth chapter of Philippians.

Each reading this third Sunday of Advent proclaimed joy:

Shout for joy, daughter Zion!
sing joyfully, Israel!
Be glad and exult with all your heart,
daughter Jerusalem! (Zephaniah 13:4)

Shout with exultation, City of Zion,
for great in your midst
is the Holy One of Israel! (Isaiah 12:6)

rose colored candle2Amidst a sea of somber purple, the rose-colored candle was lit on the Advent wreath; a sign of joyful expectation for the Lord’s coming as Christmas day draws near.

Yet why does my heart not rejoice? Why is it that a mist hangs heavily over so many?

We all know why. A modern version of the slaughter of the Holy Innocents took place that past Friday in an idyllic, close-knit Connecticut town.

It was senseless and cruel when Herod ordered the original deed in his irrational desire to destroy the Christ Child. The first chapter of Exodus described the Pharaoh’s heartless decree to drown infant boys in his quest to slay the baby Moses.

And it is just as incomprehensible, just as heart-wrenching now knowing those twenty precious little children between the ages of six and seven, and six courageous women died an equally terrible death. Watching their families and friends in Newtown, CT careen from terror to shock and finally, to a grief so deep that it feels bottomless casts a pall over a joyful holiday. There appears to be no consolation.

And yet we were called to be joyful this Gaudate Sunday. We are expected to celebrate Christmas morning with our families while others will have unopened presents under the tree and an empty space at the dinner table.

I try to picture the children and the heroic adults who attempted to save them in the arms of Jesus, hovering over their families like the angels they are, trying to impart some consolation.

Will their loved ones be able to know it? To feel it?

innocent-children

The Christian faith teaches us that God is nearest in those moments when we cannot find the words or process the feelings or even lift our heads in our grief.

I think of Jesus at the Garden of Gethsame, begging for consolation from His Heavenly Father and the angels coming to minister to Him. He knew His Father was listening and therefore could experience their consolation.

All those new angels in Heaven are waiting and ready to offer that same consolation to their grieving loved ones.

Jesus calls on us to be alert, awake and ready: prepared to see Him at any turn.

I dig deep to pray that these grieving people will be able to recognize God in their midst and thus experience the ministering presence of their angels who long to offer consolation.

rose colored candle singleGrief is an opportunity, a moment of supreme and sublime vulnerability. It can be a time of transformation if we allow ourselves to be carried on the journey. It is tumultuous, frightening and exceedingly painful. If we are open, we can find that joy that Saint Paul talks about beneath the hurt. Slowly, gently, this joy can be the healing balm.

The newest angels up in Heaven are ready and waiting to apply the balm. The rose-colored candle in the Advent wreath can be the sign of their consolation.

So I will pray these grieving parents, siblings and husbands will be ready to receive that consolation and I invite you to do the same.

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There’s nothing better at Christmas than “It’s a Wonderful Life,” especially if it’s your story!

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Last night I had a lot of cooking to do for a dinner party and kept myself company watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” on YouTube. This truly is a Christmas classic and I got all choked up at the end when the town turned out to help George Bailey. I was flooded with strong memories of a Christmas in 1997 when our family faced a similar situation. I’ll let my son Stephen tell the story:

its-a-wonderful-life-3

I’ve been extremely fortunate to have had close friendships with many of my teachers and college professors growing up. I’m generally the class wise guy and this has always guaranteed a lot of time conversing with the teacher, either in welcomed humorous banter or being kept after class for being disruptive while continuing an intellectual conversation on topics discussed in the class.

Of all of these teachers the one that first comes to mind is my sixth grade English teacher, Mrs. Bloom.

Mrs. Bloom recognized early on that I had a lot of creative energy to burn, and she encouraged this at every turn. She focused me on my written work and indulged my interest in humorous skits and videos for my class projects. I think she saw in me a kindred spirit of wild enthusiasm, something she brought every day to class with her own outsized personality and a sweet caring nature that she extended to all of her students. These two sides of her personality came out in full force the week before Christmas in 1997.

Earlier in the month, my family’s storage locker in the basement of our apartment building had been broken into. My parents, having to deal with two surprise-ruining children, had taken to storing all of the Christmas gifts in this locker to keep my sister and me from peeking at them. The thieves had crudely pried open the locker and made off with everything.

My family was devastated; we resigned ourselves to what would likely be a very low-key Christmas.

Somehow Mrs. Bloom found out what had happened. Being anything but a low-key personality, she was not the type of person to stand for anyone settling for less than the best.

I remember entering my sixth grade class the morning before the Christmas break without the sense that anything might happen that day. The sting of the theft was still something everyone in my family felt, a kind of weird shame that hung over us despite it being nothing we could have prevented.

I was greeted with the sight of my entire class clustered around Mrs. Bloom’s infamous treadmill. Having so much excess energy, Mrs. Bloom had the treadmill off in the corner near her desk and would take to running on it during lunch (or class, generally for humorous effect).

Today, the treadmill was piled high with wrapped gifts and surrounded by the smiling faces of my classmates.

nordic-track-commercial-2150-treadmill with giftsMrs. Bloom then explained how in the past week she had called and spoken with the parents and students of my class and in an act of kindness that has so far gone unmatched in my lifetime had organized all of them into this big act of charity for my family.

In a time of crisis, she had gone above and beyond her textbook role as an educator and brought together a small community of people to do good. This event has always stuck with me, and the lessons of kindness taught here have influenced my life ever since.

Do you have a “It’s a Wonderful Life” story of your own to share?

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When the Man Comes Around – guest post from The Holy Rover

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What do St. John the Baptist, the season of Advent and Johnny Cash have in common? You’d be surprised! Lori Erickson, from her Holy Rover blog, draws the parallel in this fascinating post:

For those of you out there who are churchy types, you know that we’re now in the season of Advent. While the rest of the world is singing Christmas carols and reveling in the sweetness of the season, the liturgical calendar focuses on the so-called Little Apocalypse (which warns of great tribulation to come) and John the Baptist (the person you least want to show up at your annual Christmas party, what with his poor grooming habits and fondness for “brood of vipers” metaphors). The reason for the somber tone is that in the church year, this is meant to be a time of waiting and repentence, a period meant to prepare ourselves for the coming of mystery.

john the baptist and johnny cash

Several years ago I was trying to find an example of how the message of John the Baptist might be interpreted in today’s idiom, and I kept coming back to Johnny Cash: the man in black, the sinner who found salvation, the singer with that exquisite, rough-hewn voice.  I remember that when he died a few years ago, there was a vivid line in an obituary for him–”It takes a sinner,” it said, “to see the blinding light of grace.”

Click here to read the rest of this post.

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Lincoln’s melancholy – guest post from the Holy Rover

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I’m sure many of you have already seen Steven Speilberg’s acclaimed “Lincoln.” I am eager to see it myself. My favorite part of American history is from the Civil War to the present, mainly because it is captured in photographs.

from http://www.spiritualtravels.info/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/061221225103_abraham_lincoln_lg1.jpg

Abraham Lincoln is a most compelling and thoughtful man. Lori, in her post, describes how his tendency towards depression from his melancholy nature created the man of character we so admire.

For much of my life I too was deposed towards melancholy fueled by an artist’s temperament. It took me many years to figure out the cause (and therapy, much of it useless) and now having that knowledge, I can say that my life is much calmer. The roller coaster ride has smoothed out into floating downstream.

Here’s a teaser to Lori’s post with a link to the rest. And let me know if you’ve seen “Lincoln” and what you think of it. Can’t wait to go myself!

You probably already know a quite a bit about Lincoln, but one aspect of his story may not be familiar to you. In particular, I want to tell you about a gift that Lincoln possessed, the gift of melancholy. Melancholy—which is related to what we would call depression—was both a blessing and a curse to Lincoln. I think the story of how he bore that affliction, and of how it deepened his character and faith, holds some lessons for us today.

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