From the Editor

Two weeks before Christmas, our beloved Auntie Connie suffered a mild stroke and had to be hospitalized. It was a difficult time for us as we worried about her and made our way into the hospital to visit her each day. On our route, we walked by the most extraordinary sight, petunias blooming outdoors, here in Boston, in the dead of winter.

Granted, the temperatures up to that point had been unseasonably mild, but not that warm! The flowers were still blossoming because some sort of hospital heating source vented its hot air to the outside, blowing it right in their direction. The petunias that should have been dead long before were instead quite alive. They were a sign of hope for us, tangible proof that amazing things can and do happen, that life is sometimes stronger than the forces trying to destroy it, and that given the right conditions, an extraordinary blossoming occurs.

Like those plants, each of us is a tender shoot, trying to flourish, even when conditions are not optimal, continuing on despite trying moments, and rejoicing in the sources of helping, healing warmth that lift our hearts while renewing our spirits. Each of us is also called to be a life-giving source that strengthens and sustains others.

Last evening I attended the wake for longtime Sacred Heart parishioner, selfless volunteer, friend to all, and all-around wonderful person, Mary Ahearn. A woman of great faith, she inspired us with her courage, carrying on amazingly well and raising her five young children after her husband's tragic premature passing. In later years, even when ill, Mary was there for each Sodality meeting, co-directing all its events, and until just this year, helping out, as well, with special ceremonies in the wider parish, such as the annual Memorial Mass for the Deceased.

Mary was the kind of person who spread warmth wherever she went. She could have chosen to shrivel up in bitterness over the sometimes cruel breaks that life brought her, yet she faced all of them bravely and went on joyfully. It seems as if nothing shook her, not even the later-in-life kidney transplant which she desperately needed and which was made possible by the loving donation of her equally selfless son Sean. Confident in God's ever-present love, Mary was warmed by the depth of her faith and energized by the tangible signs of God's love found in her large and loving family.

At the funeral parlor, people waited patiently and uncomplainingly for a full ninety minutes to pay their respects and to share a quick word with the family members as the line continued to snake endlessly on through the length of the funeral home and out into the parking lot, cold on that last night in February. While waiting, people struck up conversations with those around them, exchanging pleasantries and deep thoughts too. The woman behind me confided that she had just lost her father, husband, and brother, all in the short span of less than a year. I admired her. Despite all her suffering, she was there, stepping out of her own grief to offer condolences to others.

Friendly with Mary's children Trish and Sean, I was strengthened by their thoughtful greetings, especially by Sean's concern over my health, yet I never expected to be welcomed so warmly by Mary's daughter Maureen, someone whom I did not even know. "My mother loved you," she exclaimed after I introduced myself. Amazed at that remark, I asked, "Oh, she mentioned me? You know who I am?" To which Maureen countered, "Of course I do. Mom often spoke of you. You're Jo Nazzaro's niece." For many years, my Aunt Jo, another courageous and faith-filled woman, has been a dear friend and faithful Sodality co-president with Mary.

After that, I couldn't deny that Maureen indeed knew who I was, and I was truly humbled to think that Mary had spoken such kind words about me to her daughter. Those words were my blast of warmth on that sad wintry night. Comforting and consoling, they raised me up, and the most interesting thing is that Maureen probably didn't even have any clue at the time as to just how much what she was saying meant to me.

Recently, I attended a day-long retreat in Cohasset sponsored by the Sisters of St. Joseph for those of us who are their Associates. The speaker, Sister Joan Patricia Lonergan, spoke to us about how we are so often taught to focus on the negative things about ourselves, rather than concentrating on the positive image that is ours in our very birthright as children made in the very likeness of God. Using an example, taken from her own life, of the kind of negativity that becomes deeply engrained in us, Sister described how as a young student, she was proud of her achievement in making second honors until the principal, in handing her the report card, callously pointed out, "Your older sister got first honors." The negative message that comes through in such a remark is "I am not good enough." In fact, the reality is that we are good enough.

The Sisters' property in Cohasset where the retreat was held, is on the ocean, and its shoreline is covered with countless rocks worn smooth and polished by the ever-changing tides. Sister Joan Patricia told us that she used to hand out sacks when giving this retreat and ask people to fill them with as many rocks as they needed to represent all the negative things they were carrying around inside. Invariably the participants would come back burdened by bags that were literally bursting at the seams with numerous stones.

Invited to go for a walk, I set off over those rocks. It wasn't all that easy keeping my footing, but I felt such peace. There, wandering the shoreline, under the sunny, seasonably chilly skies, I contemplated the letting go of all the old hurts, negative images, and past faults that interfere with living life to the fullest. "Love your neighbor as yourself," Sister had reminded us. It is clear that without a love of self, we never get to a state where we can love our neighbor.

I know firsthand that self-love is difficult at times for it forces me to love me despite all the things I wish were different about me, despite all the bad choices I may have made, and all the failings, all the warts, that make me less than who I was called to be. And yet, each Lent, we rise from the ashes placed on our foreheads to try anew. We listen to messages of love and forgiveness so powerful that if we truly believed them, we would be transformed to our very core.

Think of the parable of the Prodigal Son and recall the love of the father, who forgiving all past offenses, runs out to greet his wayward spoiled child, throwing himself upon him in a loving embrace. Remember the words of Jesus as He hung dying on the cross, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

The amazing news is that despite all our weaknesses, God truly loves us, forgives us and wants for us the fullness of life that is ours for the taking if we can but forgive ourselves and extend that forgiveness to others. Then, we become like that blast of warm air rising up from beneath the hospital to warm the living plants above and make them bloom. Then, we become what we are supposed to be, true disciples, signs of God's loving presence, ministers of God's compassionate caring, people encouraging one another on the journey, aware of our mistakes, but strong in our forgiveness of ourselves and of one another.

This Lent, may your journey lead you to reach out with encouraging words to all those around you. This Lent, may you know the peace that comes in loving yourself as God loves you, and in loving your neighbor as yourself. This Lent, may the stones you are carrying around with you be washed smooth by a tide of loving forgiveness. May you see yourself as God sees you, a new creation, born again in the joy of this Easter day!

- Carole Anne Scott