Skip to main content
One of my favorite things to do is attend a wedding. This past Friday, I was able to witness the joining of two young people in holy matrimony. Both of these young adults have been through a dark journey lately. The difference is that the journeys turned out very differently for each of them. The bride recently lost her mother to cancer. To lose your mother at any time is devastating but to lose her to an aggressive and destructive disease when you are planning for one of the happiest days of your life is particularly trying. The good news is that the pair was able to spend the last days of the mother's life planning every aspect of the wedding. It allowed the mother and daughter to focus on the future rather than the present. The influence of the mother was evident in every aspect of the sacramental wedding. I fully expected the bride to be excessively weepy because of her recent loss but she was radiant and beautiful. I think that she was infused by her mother's spirit. The groom had recently been through a very similar experience. His father had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about nine months ago. As we all faced the likelihood that our friend and his father would not be with us for the wedding, we also began to pray mightily for his healing. The son stepped forward and created a website about his father so that everyone could keep track of the situation. The son updated the website faithfully and shared his personal thoughts with us. The website became a beacon of light in the darkness of the journey the father was making. In the end, as I reported earlier on this blog, the father has been healed by a miracle from God our Father. The son was beaming at the wedding ceremony as his father and mother walked down the aisle together. I couldn't help but think that the father and his new daughter-in-law are closer becasue of this shared experience. The wedding itself was beautiful and the presiding priest did a wonderful job of describing marriage as a joining of the bride, groom, and God. He urged the bride and groom to focus on prayer to sustain themselves and warned that the years will bring different trials but the solution is not to separate or divorce but recommit and ask God for help. The priest turned to the stories in Tobit as an example of how God can be depended on in times of trouble and sadness. The wedding of Tobiah and Sarah was used as a parallel for what the couple had endured recently. In Tobit 11:17 we read, "When Tobit reached Sarah, the wife of his son Tobiah, he greeted her: "Welcome, my daughter! Blessed be your God for bringing you to us, daughter! Blessed are your father and your mother. Blessed is my son Tobiah, and blessed are you, daughter! Welcome to your home with blessing and joy. Come in, daughter!" Would that we all be so welcomed when we are married. Tobit chose to solidify his family and to honor Sarah by calling her daughter. As my wife and I renewed our vows at the wedding, we felt energized and rekindled. All in all, a very good night.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Gentle Art of Holy Surrender

In the quiet, dusty corners of our hearts, we often harbor blueprint drafts of how we think our lives should unfold. We carefully map out our timelines, hoping for a smooth path, and it is only natural to feel a bit lost or weary when a sudden storm alters our course or a door we prayed would open remains closed. Yet, our Lord does not stand at a distance during these moments of uncertainty; He is a tender Shepherd who walks beside us, gently whispering, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope" ( Jeremiah 29:11). When our own plans crumble, it is not a sign that He has abandoned us, but rather an invitation to fold our hands, release our grip on the pen, and offer our own quiet fiat—letting Him guide us into green pastures we could never have found on our own. Placing our trust in His loving providence allows us to breathe deeply and find rest, even when the road ahead is shrouded in mist. E...

Woman, Behold Your Son

The spiritual climax of the Gospel of John, as Father John Waiss points out, occurs at the foot of the Cross, where Jesus utters his parting words: “Woman, behold, your son!” and “Behold your mother!” (John 19:26-27). While these words were addressed to the Apostle John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, the Church has long understood this moment as a universal adoption. To truly image Christ, we must share in His parentage; if we embrace God as our spiritual Father but reject Mary as our mother, we treat Christ as a half-brother rather than our "firstborn among many brethren" (Rom. 8:29). As Origen noted as early as the third century, the profound depths of the Gospel are only accessible to those who, like John, rest their heads on Jesus’ breast and receive Mary into their own homes. This maternal role is deeply rooted in biblical typology, positioning Mary as the fulfillment of the great mothers of the Old Covenant. She is the New Eve , the mother of all the living according ...

Praying With The Five Wounds Of Jesus

I am just beginning to dive into the beautiful, ancient devotion to the Five Wounds of Jesus, and I wanted to share a bit of the journey with you. It can feel a little overwhelming at first to look at the Crucifix this closely, but I’ve found such a gentle guide in St. Bernard of Clairvaux . In his Jubilee Rhythm on the Passion, Bernard doesn't treat the wounds of Jesus as distant historical facts or sights to be avoided. Instead, he approaches them with the tenderness of a friend, speaking directly to the feet, hands, side, and face of our Lord. For someone like me who is just starting out, his rhythm teaches that prayer isn't just about reciting words; it’s a holy hide-and-seek. Bernard invites us to literally hide ourselves within these wounds, seeing them as clefts in the rock where we can find shelter when our own lives feel turbulent or heavy. As I start this process, I’ve been practicing what I call gazing and greeting. Following Bernard’s lead, I look at the Crucifix an...