Speaking Out

{mosimage}Soon enough every son, daughter and father will be stressing out to find that last-minute Mother’s Day gift for the special woman in their life.

Most mothers will probably be expecting the cliché of Mother’s Day gifts: the bouquet of flowers. But let me give some advice for those gift-hunters. I suggest a gift that the mother in your life will cherish forever: time.

Faith is defined as a secure belief in God and a trusting acceptance of God’s will. I haven’t had to rely on pure faith very often. I have a secure and content life with very little uncertainty.

People talk about taking “leaps of faith,” but I cannot recall any instances when I’ve been required to do so. However, I will soon be entering the age where I am no longer living at home and am confronted with the adult world.

Toronto sports teams are recognized for their huge fan base. Whenever our teams are playing, we’re right there in the stands with them, supporting them through thick and thin. The people of Toronto support many teams, including the Leafs, Raptors, Blue Jays and Toronto FC.

But when does this passion for the game go too far? Is it right for someone to be more devoted to a sports team than their religion?

It is said in a proverb: “show me your friends, and I’ll tell you who you are.” If that is the case, then I should be a music loving, fashion minded, game playing, theatre-loving person. While some of that’s true, I don’t see all of it. However, I am forgetting one important friend on that list: Jesus. It’s interesting, because I forget to include Him on my best friends’ list, but he is one of the people I speak to most in the day.

“What a friend we have in Jesus.” This famous hymn, a beautiful reminder of our friendship with Christ, was actually written as a poem in 1855 by Joseph Scriven. In 1845, he was engaged to be married, but his fiancée drowned the night before they were to be wed. He moved from Ireland to Canada to put it behind him. While in Canada, he met another woman, who he also was betrothed to, but she died of pneumonia, also before their marriage. The poem was originally titled “Pray Without Ceasing,” and was written to comfort his mother, who was still residing in Ireland. The poem was later re-titled “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” and music was written by Charles Converse.

Every year, my diocese hosts a weekend youth retreat for high school students. I started participating when I was in Grade 9 and always counted the days until the next one. It has been a wonderful experience and has helped me to grow dramatically faith-wise.

However, this year’s retreat was cancelled due to lack of registration. The diocese needed at least 25 youth for the retreat to take place; only six signed up. When I heard the news, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe so few people were interested. It certainly wasn’t for lack of quality or hard work by the diocese, so how could it happen?

OTTAWA - In life, there are roads that lead in every direction. Some are winding, some bumpy, some smooth and some branch off in different directions. In life, there are endless choices, but we never know where these paths will lead, so for better or for worse, we choose.

We choose for different reasons, but one contributing factor in my decision-making has always been faith. When I was  in the second grade, I remember my brother had this book, Bart Simpson’s Guide to Life, which I’d sometimes steal and flip through. There was a recurring joke that said, “Turn to page ___ to find out the meaning of life.” Every time you turned to the page it listed, it would just lead you back to a different, answer-less page. I remember finding this trivial, just because (having gone to church every Sunday my whole life) I couldn’t understand why people didn’t know the meaning to life. Apparently I was the only one who knew it, and it was simple in my mind — to spread the word of the Lord.

It amazes me: as I write this, I have been married only two and a half weeks, yet my marriage has already been full of lessons. Those who’ve been married for many years might laugh and say there are many more to come. But right now I’m incredibly excited and awestruck at the fruits brought into my life by my marriage to my husband Joseph. 

The wedding was an incredible, unforgettable day that seemed to go by too fast. It was snowy on Feb. 14, the sun illuminated the church through the stained-glass windows and the translucent material of my veil softened my view of everyone around me so that it almost didn’t seem real. The look on Joseph’s face was all that mattered to me, and as his eyes met mine, my heart actually started beating faster. It was a real-life chick-flick moment, but my reality was so much sweeter.

Although we live in a society that is growing increasingly accepting and we are able to discuss subjects that may be perceived as controversial, the amount of censorship that is still alive and thriving enrages me.

I can’t even read a novel such as The Wars or The Coldest Winter Ever without hearing criticism about how graphic or inappropriate the material is. I believe that controversy over a topic is the beginning of contemplation, discussion and eventually acceptance.

Secular society generally views the Christmas season as the season of giving but what we often forget is that giving is a big part of the Lenten season as well.

Giving is practised through alms giving, particularly during Lent because we are honouring the fact that Christ gave so much for us. As Catholics, we are all called to give in Christ’s name.

When I was younger I had the chance to visit Rome to climb and pray on the Santa Scala. Tradition has it that these steps were part of the praetorium of Pilate in Jerusalem and that Jesus is thought to have climbed when he was sent to Pontius Pilate to be judged. The steps are considered to be so holy that pilgrims are asked only to ascend on their knees as a sign of respect and worship.

As a child of 12, I failed to grasp the true significance of this experience. Yet despite my minimal understanding, when I participated to the best of my ability, I was still able to feel a connection with God. To this day, it is still one of my most cherished memories as a practising Catholic. At the time I had not known that I had embarked on a pilgrimage. All I understood was a deep feeling of peace and thankfulness. When many hear the word “pilgrimage,” the image that comes to mind (and at one point, my own as well) is a journey. A time to put aside our lives and travel to a country or city which houses a significant religious landmark. Unfortunately, those who use this definition may hold the mentality that they are not able to partake in one due to expense or availability.