God wants us to recognize God’s glory, to experience the awe and wonder of One Who loves us in our lowliness. That’s why, perhaps, “awe and wonder” might better capture what this gift is about. – from an article by Dr. John M. Grondelski
Remember your Confirmation Day? Maybe not. Maybe you were like me when I was confirmed – about eight years old, covered with Mercurochrome from a recent scuffle, and totally oblivious as to how I would need the Holy Spirit to survive in life!
But as oblivious as I was, I managed to memorize those 7 Gifts, and for a long time was a little troubled about why I needed to “fear the Lord”. My little brain wondered if I was wrong about the Lord always loving me! But, praise God, I wasn’t wrong!
As eight decades have passed, God has continually demonstrated that unfailing love. Especially when one of life’s opaque curtains falls, that love will peek through, a star of hope – an Epiphany. Eventually, we may come to understand “fear” more as astonishment and awe at God’s generosity. Like the Three Wise Royals, we may find ourselves in silent, confident, and grateful worship before such a mystery.
Look at your life today – the present and the past. Count the times God has broken through the darkness for you. Let the remembrance, or perhaps the new awareness, convince you that there is nothing to “fear”. There is only awesome Love.
Music: This Ancient Love – Carolyn McDade
I realize that I frequently suggest this song. That’s because I just love it and hope you do too. It captures everything, don’t you think?
You know what? Don’t read this! It’s only all advice, and who needs advice anyway!
Oh, OK. You’re going to read it anyway? Thanks! Here goes:
Have you ever driven on a long road with no visible signposts? Maybe in a driving rain or snowstorm? Maybe on a moonless night? Your passengers constantly ask, “Are we there yet?” You keep saying, “Almost”, as you think, “Please Lord, I hope so!”
Well, life is a long road, and sometimes there are no directions on how to navigate it. The celebration of the New Year can be our human attempt to mark the road with milestones that help us keep going.
No matter where the journey takes me in 2026, I have come to trust the following road markers:
Mile Marker One: YOU WILL CHANGE.
We know this so well! We want the change to be an improvement, not a downgrade. That’s why we make New Year’s resolutions. Here’s a New Year’s resolution worth trying: Never resist a generous impulse. I remake this particular resolution every year. To the degree that I keep it, it improves everything about my life. I recommend it highly.
Mile Marker Two: YOU WILL STAY THE SAME
In other words, you will survive. Those basic gifts of guts, determination and resilience, which have brought you through challenges you never imagined, will continue to do so. You will make it — no matter how sad, sick, tired or overwhelmed you feel. There is always a new day and a new year. So believe in yourself, have faith, and move with courage through your pain or doubt — because you are a unique and unrepeatable expression of God that nothing can destroy.
Mile Marker Three: YOUR WORLD WILL CHANGE
The New Year reminds us of how passing life is. Take a look in the mirror! Jobs change. Kids grow up and leave home. Friendships fade. Investments fluctuate. Buildings fall. And people die. So love and cherish all that the present moment offers you: yourself, your family, your friends, your work. Use your resources wisely and generously — the return never diminishes. Build places of love and mutuality — they do not fall. Love unselfishly — death cannot break such bonds.
Mile Marker Four: YOUR WORLD WILL STAY THE SAME
You know it will! The same aches and pains; the same unappreciative boss or uninvested coworker; the same demanding kids, spouse, or in-laws; the same rattle-trap car, horrendous traffic, unbearably excessive weather, and scarcity of downtime. But since so many things really won’t change, why don’t you change? Here’s how. Live gratefully. That aching body is still alive! You have family and friends when many are alone or abandoned. A dear old friend put it this way when asked how he was: “I woke up on this side of the grass!” You get the drift! Appreciate. Be positive. Give good energy and ask for it in return. It can turn a resistant world into putty in your hands!
Mile Marker Five: GOD NEVER CHANGES
God’s love for each one of us is complete, unconditional, and constant — and as the Hebrew Scriptures (Lamentations) tell us, it is renewed each morning, not just each year! God thinks you’re the greatest thing that ever happened because God knows your potential: you are made in God’s own image — creative, beautiful, generous, holy and powerful for good. When you look in the mirror all year– every morning, remember that! When you look at every other human being, remember that! It is a New Year. May you be renewed, blessed and happy.
Thought: St. Augustine’s Ever New and Changeless God
Blessed are you, holy Virgin Mary, deserving of all praise; from you rose the sun of justice, Christ our God. Alleluia Verse: Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe
There are a few places where nature offers a darkness so absolute that it can be terrifying. Assateague Island lies along the barrier coast of Virginia. On a winter night, darkness there feels complete, enveloping. As evening lengthens, night pulls its velvet canopy from the black ocean, covering the beach in silence.
The whisper of rustling sea oats along invisible dunes is the only link to a land left behind. But slowly, like sparks rolling through dry tinder, stars burn one by one through heaven’s blanket. By midnight, their incomparable brilliance convinces the soul that it has never been and can never be alone.
During this second week of Advent, which includes the feasts both of the Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe, we are continually assured that we are not alone. Mary, First Among the Redeemed, rises like an evening star in the long story of salvation history. She begins a motherhood for Jesus and, in so doing, becomes our Mother too.
Like all maternities, Mary’s was a gradual awakening to the Life she bore within her. In this week’s readings, we see her absorb the angel’s stunning announcement into the immensity of her faith. We see her begin to prepare, in the confines of her humble life, a dwelling for Infinity. We see her labor to introduce God’s extraordinary secret into the ordinary dimensions of her life. We see her carry Incarnate Grace into the disrupted world of her cousins Elizabeth and Zechariah, anointing them with the blessing of her faith-filled Magnificat.
Boticelli: Madonna of the Magnificat
As we pray with Mary this week, let us hold all mothers in our hearts. Certainly, we hold our own mothers, whether in presence or in memory. May our prayer embrace all single mothers, unwilling mothers, refugee mothers, mothers so overburdened by poverty that they cannot enjoy the blessing of their children. We include all mothers, sick with any form of illness in body, mind or spirit. May any darkness these mothers face be lifted by the gracious hand of Mary who intimately knows their hearts and circumstances.
Mary visits each of us with the same unbounded joy she brought Elizabeth in that ancient Advent. She teaches us the profound yet simple secret of her holiness: that she understood her life to be a sacred channel for God. As we prayerfully wait with our blessed Mother for Christ to be born, may we listen in the darkness for her maternal lessons.
Music: Magnificat – Johann Pachelbel
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Saquon Barkley weaving through the opposing defense like an electric needle
Alysa Liu, her silver skates writing poetry in the icy air.
Andrea Bocelli, embracing a world he cannot see with the vision of song
Yard by yard, spin by spin, note by note, these graceful artists work their lovely craft.
This Thanksgiving Day, many families will begin their sumptuous meal with Grace, that humble awareness that all we are and have belongs to God. At some tables, the youngest will be appointed to say the blessing, encouraging them to recognize God’s gifts. Whoever offers the prayer, let the moment be a reminder for us of what true grace is.
Grace is an attitude of the heart that lives life gratefully. It is that constant, though sometimes silent, acknowledgement that I did not create myself, nor any of the gifts that bless my life. With kindness and respect, we see all life as gift, a reflection of Divine Generosity.
In a harsh world, where Life and Earth are often dismissed with irreverence and violence, Thanksgiving offers us the grace to reach deepened awareness and compassionate action.
Meister Eckhart, 14th-century mystic and theologian, said, “If the only prayer we say in our entire lives is ‘Thank You’ it is enough.” And it is enough. When we realize that gratitude is the only appropriate response to the awesome gift of life, that realization is enough to make us holy, happy, and wise. It is enough to let us live with true joy.
Thanksgiving Day, our all-American feast, is a time to gather family, friends, memories, and hopes, celebrating the community that embraces us. Even if the past year has brought a measure of loss or struggle, still we have been blessed with one another’s courage and support.
In a way, we become like the luminaries mentioned earlier. Through grace, we find the opening in the defensive walls around us. Through grace, we keep our footing in icy circumstances. Through grace, our lives create their own melody.
Don’t let the cascade of football games or preparations for Black Friday shopping obscure our appreciation for this holy time. Grace is the light of God’s life within us, and no darkness can ever extinguish it. Revere it on this beautiful holiday.
Tomorrow, as we give thanks for God’s gifts, let your gratitude be evident. It may take the form of a long-overdue reconciliation, or a private “thank you” for overlooked work. It may be a little extra help in the kitchen, or an offer to head the clean-up crew. It may even be volunteering to say the Grace with humility and hope. It may be a walk after dinner with someone who needs your light. Whatever form your thanks takes, may it fill your heart – and the hearts of your family and friends – with renewed strength and love.
And thank you all sincerely for your kindness and encouragement in supporting me and this Lavish Mercy. Know that you are in my Thanksgiving prayers. ❤️ Renee
Music: The Thanksgiving Song – Ben Rector
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Often, we see someone more clearly in death than we do in life.
One Sunday, nearly 25 years ago, our religious community gathered to commemorate the precious life of our Sister Germaine Donohue. Germaine, who was more familiarly called Mercedes (Mercy), was one of our missionaries in Peru. She was vivacious, compassionate, holy, and too young to die. While ministering in our remote mountain home village of Pacaipampa, Peru, this marathon runner who loved to dance suffered an unexpected heart attack. By the time the neighboring villagers brought her down the eight-hour descent to Lima, she lived only a few more hours. It was All Saints Day.
At her funeral liturgy, the legacy of love she had quietly planted throughout her life blossomed like a field of vibrant wildflowers. Listening to stories that spanned the 40 years of her religious life, it was easy to see how consistently she chose to be with others in simplicity, honesty, and joy. It became clear that everything in her life had led her to a remote mountain village among the poor, who perfectly mirrored her deepest values. They were her heart’s companions.
Just like producing a prize-winning garden, bringing one’s life to such a degree of simplicity and beauty is no easy task. As human beings, we are constantly battling the weeds of self-interest and the complexity it breeds. But when, like Germaine, we choose to learn from those who are poor, we can grow in our capacity to trust a Power greater than ourselves to sustain our lives. We thus become freer to celebrate the beauty of others and of life around us.
For their first ten years in Pacaipampa, our Mercy community had been laboring — without success – to bloom roses in their tiny garden. When the sisters returned from Lima with Sister Germaine’s body to bury her among her beloved poor, they were greeted with the miracle of the first Pacaipampa rose. It blossomed there, a new life among the simple “pueblos jóvenes”. Perhaps they named that rose “Mercedes”.
I share the story of Sister Germaine’s passing because I hope it will offer you the gift it gave to me. The slow, daily, and sometimes frustrating work of building our lives around truly important values will — in the long run — transform and bless us. In everyday decisions, it is difficult to get enough perspective always to realize that. But when our lives are gathered someday in the story-telling of our children, our friends, and our communities, may we be fortunate enough to have left a legacy of beauty — our own miracle “rose”.
Music: El Condor Pasa
This song, popularized by Simon and Garfunkel, is actually drawn from a Peruvian folk song.
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Suggested Scripture: Proverbs 31 (Adaptation)
Who can find a merciful woman? She is worth far more than rubies. Her community has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings them good, not harm, all the days of her life. She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her neighbors and portions for the very poor. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her work is fruitful, and her lamp does not go out at night. In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her beloved community and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her neighbors arise and call her blessed; her family also praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman of mercy is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the heavenly gate.
In grade school, we had a course called “Picture Study”. Every Friday afternoon, Sister distributed small blue McLaughlin Notebooks. In them, we found the treasures of the great art galleries – paintings by Monet, Van Gogh, and Rembrandt. One of my favorites was a picture by Millet called “The Angelus”. In it, peasant farmers pause to pray as they gather their small harvest at the close of day. All the colors of late fall had dripped from the artist’s brush to capture feelings of peace, completion and hope.
I have a dear friend who doesn’t like fall. She is a complete and beautiful “summer” spirit! For her, autumn brings a sense of “closing down”. The freedom of summer evaporates; the heavy sharpness of winter looms. Some of us might feel that way as the sunlit hours shrink. But, for the reflective heart, there are deep blessings in Autumn’s ebbing.
Indeed, fall dances to a different tune from summer. The carefree skip of July becomes the thoughtful stroll of late October. It is a time for gathering, for counting the harvest, for putting up the fuel to sustain us through the winter. It is a time no longer to take things for granted. It is a time to pause and prepare. We begin to consider what the waning year has given us, and what it has taken.
As a child, I lived in a very old home originally built to house the 19th century immigrant factory workers of North Philadelphia. The kitchen, added by my grandfather’s own hands, was unheated. In the 1940s, my dad installed a pot-belly stove to warm this preferred gathering spot for our family.
Dad always left for work before the rest of us woke up. Beginning in the late fall, he would light a fire in that little stove every morning. By the time the rest of us assembled for breakfast, a freshly-perked pot of coffee awaited us atop the stove as a greeting from dad. I associated my father with that comfort and that delicious scent. Although we wouldn’t see him until late at night, his kindness accompanied us in the cozy, inviting kitchen every morning.
As deep October approaches, the earth steeps itself like fragrant tea in its own magnificent colors, but the chill suggests the coming change. Seeing this, I remember Dad and realize, such is the work of autumn:
to express beauty in the subtle colors of our kindness
to build the warm fires we know our loved ones will need
to brew the fresh tonic that wakes others to life and warms them against its sometime chill
It is a time now to glean summer’s final fruits and to wrap ourselves in their bounty; to listen, in the snug quiet of our spirits, to the voice of Love in our lives. What does Love ask of us as winter approaches? For each of us, the answers will be different. In the gathering October stillness, to what does the Divine Spirit invite me?
Music: Autumn “Allegro-Adagio Molto” (The Four Seasons) – Antonio Vivaldi
For Your Reflection:
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Today, for your reflection, a poem I wrote decades go. I offer it today in memory of Judy Ward, RSM who passed away on September 27, 2025. Her life will be celebrated on October 2nd in a Mass of Christian Burialin the chapel at Mt. St. Mary, where Judy attended school, became a Sister of Mercy, and taught for many years.
Judy, a gifted artist, did so much to encourage me and to illustrate and promulgate my work. I will miss her generous kindness and her friendship.
October is a time when nature changes clothes. Leaves, like miniature volcanoes, flare up and die, ashes at the foot of a silent, seemingly immortal tree. Geese, having dawdled all summer in veiled expectation, suddenly leap into the clouds and disappear. These solemn miracles may incline us to consider our own impermanence and the gossamer phenomenon we call life.
Healing
Music: A Playlist of Autumn Music
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
I hope that, where you live, it is a glorious day – a perfect vestibule to a season of amazing beauty. In the northern hemisphere, Nature prepares to shed the plush accretions of summer in a multi-colored ritual of leave-taking. It is time to return to the essentials – back to the branch, back to the buried root, back to the bare, sturdy reality that will anchor us in eventual winter.
Each day, some green leaf or blade will ignite like a phoenix – a blaze of scarlet or gold, only to extinguish that flame for a long winter’s sleep. Nature knows when things are finished. It knows when it has had enough. It knows its need for a season of emptying, for a clearing of the clutter, for the deep hibernation of its spirit.
But we humans often ignore the need for an “autumning” of our spirits. We try to live every moment in the high energy of summer – producing, moving, anticipating, and stuffing our lives with abundance.
But simplicity, solitude, and clarity are necessary for our spirit to renew itself. Autumn is the perfect time to examine prayerfully the harvest of our lives – reaping the essentials and sifting out the superfluous. In the quiet shade of a rusting tree, we may discover what we truly love, deeply believe, and really need to be fully happy.
Take time on these crystal days to ask yourself what is essential in your life. If something besides them inhibits you, let it go.
Nurture your “essentials” with attention and care. Don’t take them for granted. After the flare of life’s summer has passed, these are the things that will sustain you: a strong faith, a faithful love, and a loving compassion. Tend them in this season of harvest
Music: The Four Seasons: Autumn – Antonio Vivaldi
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Hold hands with your life. Look it in the eyes. There, in the stillness, God is revealing the miracle of knowing who you are.
But life can be hectic, can’t it? You might not have time to just “hold hands”, right?
Don’t you sometimes feel like Indiana Jones, running ahead of that huge boulder, trying to keep all your responsibilities from overwhelming you? Or maybe you feel as if your life has run so far ahead of you that you’re racing to catch up to it, watching it turn into a dot on the far horizon.
Life wasn’t intended to be like either of these images. Our lives are meant to be savored and lived in a deep awareness of our “present”. NOW is the only time we have. The people we are with, the challenges and joys we experience in this moment – this is our life. So many of us, running from the boulder or chasing the dot, let the beauty of our lives evade us.
When I see people holding hands, I am reminded to be still and to appreciate my life in the present. It’s beautiful to see a couple walking hand in hand, breaking a new pattern in the fresh snow. They might be young, just beginning an unimaginable journey. Or they might be elderly, having walked beside each other through miles of love and sacrifice, joy and sorrow.
I love to see a parent holding hands with their child. The child may be small, reaching up for security, protection and comfort. Or the parent may be old, reaching over for the same things. What a blessing to be beside someone whose touch can sustain your life!
Prayer is a kind of holding hands – God reaching for us, and we for God. I tried to capture the experience in a poem I wrote many years ago:
Poem: A Long Faith – Renee Yann, RSM
This is the way of love, perhaps near the late summer, when the fruit is full and the air is still and warm, when the passion of lovers no longer rests against the easy trigger of adolescent spring, but lumbers in the drowsy silence where the bees hum— where it is enough to reach across the grass and touch each other’s hand.
So hold hands with someone you love today, human or divine. Slow each other down to a deep appreciation of the gift of life in this present moment.
Music: Holding Hands – Creative Commons Instrumental Music
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
You were a kid once, right? Well when I was a kid, one of the things I really loved about September was getting a new box of crayons. It was a chance to start fresh. It was an opportunity once more to make my contribution to the design of the world with renewed sharpness and depth. It was a beginning participation in the infinite cycle of experience and revitalization we call “Life”.
Our ability with crayons, like our ability with life, develops in stages. As toddlers, our first box of crayons may have been a small three-pack of the primary colors, thick enough for little fingers to grasp, bright enough to make a mark, and (if Mom was lucky) maybe washable! Like life, each year our box of crayons grew bigger with both vibrant and subtle colors, usually indelible, a lot like life itself.
We learned not only that things are rarely black and white. They are not often really red, blue or yellow. We learned that a wild red rose begins as a shy pink bud, just like some people do. We learned that a true blue friendship doesn’t just happen but has to be proven through many green seasons. We learned that what appears to be a yellow streak may really hide the aqua depths of a courageous peacemaker. Each of our experiences brings us a greater capacity and depth to express the power of our spirit as they add the nuances of color to our understanding of life.
On September 11, 2001, our nation and our world added a bruising violet to our box of crayons. As time passes, we are learning to use that painful color to deepen our capacity for courage, compassion, hope, and resolve. Sometimes we and our leaders do this well; sometimes poorly. Our civic and moral duty is to pursue universal peace and justice for all peoples; to contribute to the well-being of Earth and all who share her riches.
As we continue to color our world with meaning, God, Who holds our hand, renews us in grace. In that grace, we are invited to begin afresh. We have a new chance every day to make our lives and our world better — just as we did in our early Septembers with that new box of crayons.
Let’s pray for and encourage one another — especially as September 11th approaches. Let’s pray for those who were most profoundly wounded by the deep purple shadow that fell over all of us that day. Let’s pray for leaders who have the magnitude of heart and spirit to create a compassionate and just world. And let’s reach out in sincerity to one another every day, like we did as children– sharing the colors of hope, faith, and love.
Music: Colors – Black Puma
This song and video present a moving contradiction. The music is upbeat, suggesting happiness. But in the video, a family struggles with losing their home and living unhoused. The video invites us to think about the counterbalance between struggle and joy, between justice and reality. Lyrics at end of page.
For Your Reflection
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
[Verse 1: Eric Burton] I woke up to the morning sky first Baby blue, just like we rehearsed When I get up off this ground, I shake leaves back down To the brown, brown, brown, brown ’til I’m clean Then I walked where I’d be shaded by the trees By a meadow of green For about a mile I’m headed to town, town, town in style
[Chorus: Eric Burton with The Soul Supporters] With all my favorite colors, yes, sir All my favorite colors, right on My sisters and my brothers see ’em like no other All my favorite colors
[Post-Chorus: Eric Burton with The Soul Supporters] It’s a good day to be, a good day for me A good day to see my favorite colors, colors My sisters and my brothers, they see ’em like no other All my favorite colors
[Verse 2: Eric Burton] Now take me to the other side Little bitty blues birds fly In gray clouds, or white walls, or blue skies We gon’ fly, feel alright And we gon’, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, yeah They sound like ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, yeah And the least I can say, I anticipate A homecome parade as we renegade in the morning, right on
Photo by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto on Pexels.com
Lavish Mercy 