In the American Continent the Virgin Mother with Child appears on the hilltop of the Tepeyac to a 57 year old neophyte and widower, St. Juan Diego during the octave of the Immaculate Conception, December 1531.
The day I married my husband was one of the happiest days of my life. While true, that’s an unremarkable statement, one we’ve all probably uttered at one time or another. But for me there was a shadow behind it: the day I married my husband was the day I accepted that I would never walk into a Catholic church again.
Some of the most special and unique moments I have been privileged to participate in my now seven-year-long altar serving career are funerals. Put most simply, funerals are a celebration of a life. Not only is the funeral a big moment in the journey for the person who has passed away, it is also a big moment for the community of which the deceased is a part. I have attended many funerals, and each one has taught me something.
There are few moments in our lives when we are both fully known and fully loved, but those are defining moments when we see that our identities are not our masks or our failures or our successes. In moments of authentic knowing and loving we can see that our identity is "child of God", broken, redeemed, known and loved.