Family Life

SAINT OF THE DAY
St. Gianna Molla (1922-1962)
Gianna was a physician and surgeon who frequently worked with mothers, babies, the elderly, and the poor. While pregnant, she was diagnosed with a cyst, and her surgeon recommended an abortion in order to save Gianna's life; she refused and died a week after childbirth.

"O Jesus, I promise You to submit myself to all that You permit to befall me, make me only know Your Will."
– St. Gianna Molla

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I said I would choose the life of my child over my own...even if the baby was not born yet...that child is still alive.

At this stage in my life, I'm not longer making decisions for myself. That sounds so strange because it may seem that I have been and always will be bound to another person's welfare. As a child, I obeyed (most of the time) and listened to what my parents told me to do...for my own good. Now that I'm almost 30, everything I do is purposed for the good of someone else.

These days, it's either for my fiance and for the children that God may bless us with. They even have to come before my job, my students, my immediate family, and my ministry work. This is what it means to grow up...to leave the life you had lived as a young person and take responsibility for the commitments you have made.

I'm getting married in two months...moving out of my house away from my family for the first time. In almost four months I'll be starting a new job in a new community...allowing my identiy to evolve as it is influenced by even more people and experiences.

All because I've been trying my best to be faithful to a calling that has sounded like more of a quiet whisper in my heart...leading me to a place for a reason I cannot clearly see.

The questions seem to have squatted into a corner of my mind, making their home amidst even the confirmations. I occassionally find myself asking in all respects, "Am I making the right decision?"

It broke my heart to tell the KAIROS leaders that I will not be at Verb next year. Painful for me and for them, as they made it very apparent by their concern. Yet somehow I know it's time...somehow I know that we'll make this work because I'm not completely walking away.

That community is too close to my heart.

It's surprising how two years can change you like that...but after getting to know these kids, it's not surprising at all.

Dear Jesus, please carry me through the sadness and give me the joy that will bring me peace. Amen.

The Right to Write

A book I read a while back. I think I need to revisit that one.

My brother handed me a screenwriting DVD this morning. That was a sign of his faith, and I found it extremely touching. He draws and paints and sculpts and films and plays all kinds of instruments. I sing and dance and write...and I kinda play the ukulele.

We're artists.

At this moment, however, I think I've been in hibernation for a while.

There's been a disconnect - I was telling Brandi yesterday - between me and my story. It's funny that I should say that because I'm asked to tell it over and over again. Maybe it's because I've felt that I've owned the rights to my story...maybe it's because I haven't given much credit to the God who actually authored the whole thing in the first place. Maybe it's like Brandi said...we have to find joy in telling His story first and realize how He truly is our "precious Lord".

And so the thread continues to weave through each day of my life.

Jana and her blogs - all in one day - sparked a flame within me. But it wasn't all in one day because she is who she is after 24 years of being Jana. So even if I've only known her for two years and read two months worth of entries, her whole life is helping to change mine because we're the same...yet different. It isn't, though, like she's actively doing something for me. She's making a difference simply by being faithful to who she is. I know that, and that's what inspires me.

It's something that an old friend asked of me once upon a time.

"I just need you to be you."

And then all of a sudden I couldn't be.

But now three years later, it's something that I can't run away from anymore. It hurts too much to hide from myself.

This journey that I'm on...my own personal journey is about DISCOVERY. It's a time for me to get to know God - Father, Son and Spirit - in a new way...with the heart of a child and the maturity of an adult. It's a time for me to get know myself...to accept this woman I see in the mirror with everything she is and ever has been. It's a time for me to get to know the world and the people living in it...to first try to understand who they are, where they've been, and where they dream of going.

It's a time to embrace the characters, the plots and the settings...to be challenged by the conflicts and to find hope in the resolutions.

I'd like a happy ending...not just for me but for everyone I know. It's that idealism again. Granted that life comes with suffering, it hit me tonight that I'd been camping out on Calvary long after the tomb had been emptied.

We are an Easter people. The greatest witness is to believe in the Resurrection...to have hearts full of joy...to be just like Jesus. If we were otherwise, we couldn't call ourselves Christians.

Thank you, Lord. =) Thank you for this day...for my friends...for prayer meeting tonight...for the ride home with Lyn-lyn and the resolution not to wait anymore for "something" to happen to get us going again.

There isn't any bigger "something" than You dying for our sins and rising again, only to give us the miracle of Your Presence here in this world when we receive You in the Eucharist.

Time to get up, my friends. Praise God!

There are no shortcuts...

...if where you're going is worth something. - Mother Dolores

The pain will always be there. No matter how old you get, it doesn't go away. You just have to accept it. - Dominic

It's always darkest right before dawn. - Mariette

God has given you a gift. He might not be calling you back to the front lines, but when it's time to use it, He'll let you know. - Dominic

Your deepest wounds integrated become your greatest treasures. - Mariette

This is who I am. I'm an adult now...and I need to be able to freely make my own decisions. - Marianne

You're okay, Marianne. You really are. - Gary

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What a day. That's all I have to say...

Parents have the first responsibility for the education of their children. They bear witness to this responsibility first by creating a home where tenderness, forgiveness, respect, fidelity, and disinterested service are the rule. The home is well suited for education in the virtues. This requires an apprenticeship in self-denial, sound judgment, and self-mastery – the preconditions of all true freedom. Parents should teach their children to subordinate the "material and instinctual dimensions to interior and spiritual ones." Parents have a grave responsibility to give good example to their children. By knowing how to acknowledge their own failings to their children, parents will be better able to guide and correct them. (CCC #2223)

Walk by faith, not by sight

In His public ministry, Jesus impacted only a localized geographical area in Palestine. In His risen ministry, miles of territory, locked doors, and death are no longer barriers to Him. The risen Jesus has no obstacles except our doubts (see Jn 20:25; Mt 28:17, RNAB). The Eucharist challenges us to recognize Jesus as He really is. It's a risen Sacrament. Our eyes see bread and wine. But we "come to know Him in the breaking of bread" (Lk 24:35).
- excerpt from One Bread, One Body

"He loves, He hopes, He waits. If He came down on our altars on certain days only, some sinner, on being moved to repentance, might have to look for Him, and not finding Him, might have to wait. Our Lord prefers to wait Himself for the sinner for years rather than keep him waiting one instant."
– St. Peter Julian Eymard

Alleluia!

Now I know why it hurts...

One Bread, One Body - Reflection for April 15, 2006

DID YOU MISS ME?

"I opened to my Lover – but my Lover had departed, gone. I sought Him but I did not find Him; I called to Him but He did not answer me." –Song of Songs 5:6

On this Holy Saturday, there is no Mass, no eucharistic presence in the tabernacles of our Churches, no eucharistic readings proclaimed for the world to hear. Jesus our Life (Jn 14:6; 11:25) has fallen to the ground and died (Jn 12:24). He has been buried in the tomb, and we who are baptized into Him have also been buried with Him (see Rm 6:4). We are deprived of His special eucharistic presence until tonight's Easter Vigil.

Many might say, "So what's the big deal? Just wait until tonight or tomorrow and you'll get your Jesus back as usual." They would be speaking pragmatic words, but love isn't pragmatic or practical. The toddler cries when its beloved mother leaves the room. The lover in the Song of Songs passage above searches all night long for her missing Lover. We who are living our Baptisms to the full are so joined to Jesus that we miss Him terribly when we are deprived of His presence. When we have centered our lives on the Mass, we miss His presence in the Eucharist so much because we love Him so much.

Do you miss the eucharistic Jesus today? Do you even know He is missing? If not, today is your chance to grow in love. Ask the Holy Spirit to pour out the love of God in your heart (Rm 5:5). If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then may Jesus' absence today make your hearts overflow with love for Him.

PRAYER:
"As the hind longs for the running waters, so my soul longs for You, O God. Athirst is my soul for God, the living God. When shall I go and behold the face of God?" (Ps 42:2-3)

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There was a reason, and this is it. I didn't know why I was feeling so empty, so alone yesterday - but here is the answer. It just makes me realize how very closely tied I am to Him...bound like a handmaid to her Master...a call for commitment like nothing else I have ever known.

He's trying to keep me close, but it's up to me to fully choose Him. I can't continue to pretend to be something I'm not...living like I used to live, acting how I used to act, thinking how I used to think. It's different now. It has been for the last 7 years. Everytime I'd take a few steps back into the world I had left or played with the idea of selfishly serving myself, I would feel this same pain in my heart...like He was gone...not because He left me but because I was the one who walked away from Him.

It's something I know not many people will understand, but that shouldn't keep me from walking this path. This will always be a test of faithfulness. He has to have all of me...all of my heart...all of what I do...all the time.

All for your glory, Lord. To live for anything else would be living in vain.

+AMDG+

Saint of the Day - Bl. Cesar de Bus

Bl. Cesar de Bus (1544-1607)
A wild youth, Cesar had complete conversion when he passed a church on the way to a party and saw a small light illuminating a picture of the Virgin Mary. After he was ordained, he founded a religious order and became a great catechist. St. Francis de Sales called him "a star of the first magnitude in the firmament of Catechesis."

"I was so beside myself and fired with such a longing to do something in imitation of him, that I would not give my eyes sleep or my days rest until I had given some beginning to this resolution of mine."
-Blessed Cesar de Bus, writing about Saint Charles Borromeo

All I've got

IN CHRIST ALONE
Brian Littrell

In Christ alone will I glory
Though I could pride myself in battles won
For I’ve been blessed beyond measure
And by His strength alone I’ll overcome
Oh, I could stop and count successes
Like diamonds in my hands
But those trophies could not equal
To the grace by which I stand

In Christ alone
I place my trust
And find my glory in the power of the cross
In every victory
Let it be said of me
My source of strength
My source of hope
Is Christ alone

In Christ alone will I glory
For only by His grace I am redeemed
For only His tender mercy
Could reach beyond my weakness to my need
And now I seek no greater honor in just to know Him more
And to count my gains but losses to the glory of my Lord

In Christ alone
I place my trust
And find my glory in the power of the cross
In every victory
Let it be said of me
My source of strength
My source of hope

In Christ alone
I place my trust
And find my glory in the power of the cross
In every victory
Let it be said of me
My source of strength
My source of hope
Is Christ alone
Is Christ alone

The only thing is that whatever is going to bring me back doesn't seem like it's going to be something I have tried already. Whatever that "magic key" is, it's going to show up someday. Or will it?

Maybe it's simply a matter of me persevering in my prayer. Maybe every night before I go to sleep and every morning that I wake up, I need to pray for the grace to recognize Him in my day...to be able to hear his voice and see His face...to fall in love with Him again.

And maybe if I pray hard enough and I pray long enough, God will grant me His peace and allow me to experience His presence. But maybe not...

I wonder if this is just part of my journey, where I'm being molded and placed on a steeper path that will only strengthen me along the way. Maybe it isn't about the flowers anymore or the sweet consolations I used to receive so frequently.

Maybe this desert I'm walking in is the place where I will finally learn to cling to Him alone.

This isn't about me and a somebody else. It's about me and my God. Because there was a once upon a time that even amidst so many responsibilities, so many friendships, amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life, I somehow managed to make time for Jesus.

I talked about Him all the time. I wrote about Him every night. And throughout my days, I would thank Him for every "little" blessing He gave to remind me of the reality of Heaven.

It was a great relationship.

Now that I'm older and seven or so years have passed since my spiritual rebirth - or conversion experience, if you will - I notice that at times it becomes very routine. The life has gone out of my faith, at least from what I remember it to be.

Once upon a time.

I've never stopped praying...
I've never stopped going to Mass...
I've always been faithful to the Rosary...

...but my prayers are not filled with the confidence they used to have.
...but being in Mass and receiving Jesus in Holy Communion has become a thing to do instead of an encounter with God.
...but Mama Mary has taken her place in the back of my heart where I tend to forget how much she prays for me and for the rest of the world each and every day.

Someday.

Today, though, I just have to pay attention to the little things. God is trying to leave me with a lesson every day, so I need to live with that kind of awareness. It's easy to get caught up in all the things that don't matter in the end.

This might be the last of it......................and I can't predict what He'll tell me or show me along that way. With whatever happens, it's sure to be interesting.

Good nite!

The wood of the Cross

"If God causes you to suffer much, it is a sign that He has great designs for you, and that He certainly intends to make you a saint. And if you wish to become a great saint, entreat Him yourself to give you much opportunity for suffering; for there is no wood better to kindle the fire of holy love than the wood of the cross, which Christ used for His own great sacrifice of boundless charity."
– St. Ignatius of Loyola

Today...was just one of those days...when I look back and wonder what happened to all that time. When I remember the kinds of questions I would ask myself, while I'd roll with the punches of life...taking things as they come and contemplating all the possibilities in front of me.

With experience comes wisdom, and it's something that I've been very grateful for...with all of the great and wonderful things that have been presented to me over the years...along with all of the moments when I could have pulled my hair out trying to figure out what the heck was going on around me.

Highlights of the last 24 hours:

• talking to Jana about reacting with good humor to what normally would freak us out
• having Darren check my "pre-wedding temperature"...nice to know he's been watching out since the very beginning
• trying not to be sad about leaving when I realize more and more what has made me want to stay
• being excited at the same time for the transitions to come
• Christian stopping by the office just to say hi...and having to break the news
• the "stealth-bomber" conversation about what nurtures one's soul, knowing for two years where your heart has always really been
• feeding Jacob for the first time
• watching the productive juices flow at the HFYA meeting
• feeding Jacob for the second time
• believing as I share with others that God has a plan...though we might not understand it, it's always best to trust it

Thank you, Gary, for calling me. Now my day is complete. =)

Commitment

"Six days before Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the village of Lazarus whom Jesus had raised from the dead." –John 12:1

One Bread, One Body - Reflection for April 10, 2006

Apathy killed Jesus Christ. The Jewish leaders were jealous (Mt 27:18) and Pilate was afraid (Jn 19:8). However, they would not have been able to put Jesus to death except for the thousands of people who didn't show up for the crucifixion. They didn't want Jesus dead or alive. They didn't care. Apathy permitted Hitler to kill six million Jews, and Planned Parenthood to kill many more millions of babies. Apathy lets thousands die each day of starvation, and billions live each day without knowing Jesus.

During this Holy Week, the Lord wants to change apathy to empathy. The word "a-pathy" means "no suffering," while "em-pathy" means "in suffering." Jesus will change our selfishness that avoids people and their sufferings into love that actually suffers with others. "If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it" (1 Cor 12:26).

Mary of Bethany is the perfect model of empathy. She threw herself and her perfume at the feet of Jesus and dried His feet with her hair (Jn 12:3). She was willing to share in suffering because she was in love with Jesus. On the other hand, Judas is the example of apathy. He was more concerned about self and money than people (Jn 12:5-6).

From Presentation Ministries, a lay association of the Catholic Church that focuses on evangelization and discipleship through Bible teaching, daily Mass, the charisms of the Holy Spirit, and Small Christian Community

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"I'm in the ring with you."

Those were words Nelden left with me when he had visited Gary for Thanksgiving and spent the day with our family. I'll never forget them.

I've been asking myself what it means to be committed to Jesus, to my family, to my friends, to my relationship with my husband-to-be, to my Church, and to the people I serve. This statement came to me as the answer.

It's about being involved. Experiencing as best as you can with those who God puts into your life...putting yourself in their shoes...and better yet, walking beside them as you share your life with them and they share their life with you.

Granted that I cannot be with everyone everywhere all the time, I can at least be more present to who I am with, while I am with them. When they are happy, I want to share in their joy. When they are hurting, I want to share in their pain. That's what it means to connect. That's what it means to love your neighbor as Jesus has loved us.

For far too long I have held people at arm's length - even those I love the most - because I was afraid...afraid of getting involved, afraid of getting hurt, afraid of losing something. As I near the end of my twenties, I realize that most of this past decade of my life has been lived with my guard up. No one has really known me - at least not the free-spirited me - and sometimes I even wonder if that person will ever come out.

Soon, I think. The more I reflect on who I am, the more I can feel all the pieces coming together...and it's no longer an aching in my heart as much as it is an anticipated burst of life waiting to come out again, without the hesitancy I'd known before.

This past week especially has been a time of rediscovery - spurts here and there, to say the least. Maybe it began with the Labyrinth walk...perhaps it was the opening up that nudged me to take a good look at myself and admit how much growing I still need to do. It could have been Mass this morning at SPC when I teared the moment I noticed Fr. John's red vestments in memorial of the beginning of the Passion of Jesus...or when I watched Br. Jeremy cleaning the communion vessels, thanking God for faithful souls like him who boldly answer the call to holiness. Maybe it was the challenge my brother posed to me on the phone when we were talking about potential publishing projects - "...and what about you?" Or maybe it was the time I have spent clearing out my room...getting rid of what I cannot hold on to, acknowledging all of the people and things and experiences that have made me who I am today.

There's so much I still "don't get" about life...my life, in particular...but I don't know that anyone in this world has the clarity that I'm seeking. We just have to try our best with what we've got and trust that God is there guiding us each step of the way.

Who knows what's going to happen at this point. There will be joy, there will be suffering. There will be gain and there will be loss. But all shall be well because there will always be God.

Amen.

The journey of an actress turned nun

Dolores Hart (born Dolores Hicks on October 20, 1938 in Chicago, Illinois) is an American Roman Catholic nun and former actress.

Dolores Hicks was the only child of a Catholic actor Bert Hicks, and his wife, who, despite the religious implications, separated and ultimately divorced. Hart was also the niece of singer Mario Lanza. It was actually her grandfather, a movie theater projectionist to whom she turned for comfort in light of her parents' marital problems, whose enthusiasm for films influenced her decision to pursue an acting career. At the age of nine she had a bit part in the film Forever Amber, which was finally released in 1947 following a long battle between the movie's producers and the Catholic censors of the day.

Loving You. Much in demand, she made two more films before playing with Presley again in 1958's King Creole. She has denied ever having had an 'intimate' relationship with Presley offscreen. Hart then debuted on Broadway, winning a 1959 Theatre World Award as well as a Tony Award nomination for Best Featured Actress for her role in The Pleasure of His Company.

In 1960, Hart starred in Where the Boys Are, a teenage comedy about college students on spring break which developed a near cult-like following. She went on to star in four more films, her last opposite Hugh O'Brian in 1963's Come Fly with Me. At this point she had made up her mind to leave the film industry, and after breaking off her engagement to a Los Angeles businessman, the twenty-five-year old actress became a Roman Catholic nun at the Benedictine Abbey of Regina Laudis in Bethlehem, Connecticut, ultimately becoming the Prioress of the Convent. She chants in Latin eight times a day.

Prioress of the Abbey, but has in recent years become the only nun to be an Oscar-voting member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

Filmography
Come Fly with Me (1963) .... Donna Stuart
Lisa (1962) .... Lisa Held
Sail a Crooked Ship (1961) .... Elinor Harrison
Francis of Assisi (1961) .... Clare
Where the Boys Are (1960) .... Merritt Andrews
The Plunderers (1960) .... Ellie Walters
King Creole (1958) .... Nellie
Lonelyhearts (1958) .... Justy Sargent
Wild Is the Wind (1957) .... Angie
Loving You (1957) .... Susan Jessup
Forever Amber (1947) (uncredited) .... Child

Contact
Rev. Mother Dolores Hart, O.S.B., Prioress, Abbey of Regina Laudis, 273 Flanders Road, Bethlehem, CT 06751 USA

Papal preacher condemns spiritual "half-measures"

Vatican, Apr. 07 (CWNews.com) - Catholics must not take "half-measures" in their spiritual lives, the preacher to the pontifical household said in a Lenten meditation on April 7.

Continuing his series of Friday sermons in the Redemptoris Mater chapel, Father Raniero Cantalamessa said that in the souls of many Christians, Christ is not imprisoned, but "free on parole." The Capuchin preacher explained that many believers allow Christ to "move, but within certain defined limits."

Christians, the papal preacher said, tend to place restrictions on what they think God can require of them. He outlined a typical Christian's commitment:

Prayer, yes; but not to the point of losing sleep or rest…
Obedience, yes; but not to the detriment of our own convenience.
Chastity, yes; but not to the point of depriving ourselves of some entertaining spectacle…

Such a collection of "half-measures," Father Cantalamessa said, is evidence of a superficial faith. A deeper faith, he said, acknowledges the reality of Christ's suffering and one's own role in causing it.

"I am Judas who betrayed Him, Peter who renounced Him, the crowd that cried out against Him," the preacher said. "Each time I have preferred my satisfaction, my comfort, my honor to that of Christ, that is what has happened."

Superficial Christianity, the preacher continued, reflects the "hardness of heart" that the Gospels mention: "the refusal to submit to God, to love Him with all one's heart, to obey his law."

"If a man wants to be always in God's company, he must pray regularly and read regularly. When we pray, we talk to God; when we read, God talks to us."
– St. Isidore of Seville

Walking the path

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer." - Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Releasing and letting go. Following but offering only my life, apart from anyone else's. Yielding, accepting, giving others their space. Tired though I was, much of my energy was spent paying attention to the presence of those around me...somehow I had to be connected...somehow I had a difficult time focusing on just me.

At the end of it all, I could only know that I had finished my journey. I could only pray that those who were still walking their own paths would come to realize the truths God had in store for them. I could only long for the rest in His embrace...and I hoped that at the end of my life I could at last experience the peace of Heaven.

I had stopped looking for answers. I had come to give Him this walk...to let Him lead me...to let Him love me...and I had the hands to hold me as His response to many a question I had asked years ago.

Now I understood what I never could before. His ways are not our ways...nor His thoughts our thoughts. But God always wins out with the best solution...the best plan...the best gifts to give us when we open our hands long enough to surrender everything that keeps us from receiving.

The heart of a writer

"I cannot see how you can write and not have a broken heart from what you see around you." - Fr. Michael Kennedy, SJ

His words had resonance tonight because I knew he was right on point. We need to allow our hearts to be broken in order to have something of value to say to the world. We all have a story to tell - our own or that of those who have touched our lives. Even we as Christians tell a story of a man who we follow, of a God who loved us so much that He sent Him to die...a story full of struggle and suffering...but exploding with victory at the end of it all.

When you follow the events of a life and the impact it has on others, there is a certain connectivity you have because their story is somehow a part of yours. And others will then watch you, experiencing much of the same thing because your story is a part of theirs.

The need to be vulnerable with people at last has a purpose. It becomes okay to listen and to empathize...to be angry...to be joyful...to be sad...to be excited. We are given permission to share ourselves because it helps someone else tell their story, too.

But a story cannot be told without hope of a happy ending or a moral to be taught. The protagonist is on a journey of truth, seeking to find...something. Unless she opens herself up to the lessons she can learn along the way or the virtues she can acquire, the story has no point because in telling the story, the reader must travel with her and discover what truth the journey will uncover for himself.

That's how it is for us who live in this world. We watch each other, like we follow characters in a novel. We're looking for a good story - one that will catch our attention and give us that "Me, too!" experience. But we're not only looking for someone to identify with...we're looking for characters who will inspire us to greatness. Those who can rise above their conflicts and move us into a place where we never thought we could get to by ourselves.

We're looking for people who are real. People who have the same weaknesses as we do but have somehow overcome them. But the greatest obstacle we have in gaining something from them is our unwillingness to let our hearts go where they have gone...to that point of highest tension when a decision needs to be made about whether to give up or persevere...because we are afraid that we will fail.

Why?

Because that character...that person is not us. They cannot, in our present moments, do anything for us. We live in our own circumstances with our own choices to make...with our own story to write. And we know that other people are watching us as well.

Then what?

You choose your own adventure. You turn the page. You keep going until you've reached the end of your book. You put your pen down and reread what you've written, knowing in hindsight that you had been a character in many other stories in many other books that you may never know about.

All because you let your heart be broken, so much that you finally learned to love.

Hope and Innocence

We are all aware of the fact that media images and reality do not always coincide. In fact, the image that the media presents to us can be the polar opposite of the reality it replaces.

In the year 1508, Pope Julius II ordered a reluctant Michelangelo Buonarroti — who considered himself a sculptor and not a painter — to paint the huge vault of the Sistine Chapel, which, since the time of Sixtus IV, displayed nothing more resplendent than a blue field sprinkled with golden stars. Despite his initial reluctance, Michelangelo soon mastered the difficult technique of painting in fresco and produced the greatest pictorial masterpiece of the Renaissance.

His various frescoes represent episodes from the Book of Genesis. In the center of the ceiling, Michelangelo depicts God the Creator vigorously thrusting the index finger of His right hand toward a reclining Adam, whose own hand withdraws just enough that a gap appears, thus separating the Author of life from His somewhat indecisive recipient. This gap symbolizes the drama of God and man, the divine and the human, the source of life and our hesitation in welcoming it.

But such hesitation or reluctance does not apply to Samuel Alexander Armas. In a photograph which some observers say should be the “Picture of the Decade,” we see the tiny hand of Samuel when he was a 21-week-old fetus reaching up through an incision in his mother’s uterus and grabbing and squeezing the finger of the surgeon who had just performed a life saving, though not life-forming, procedure.

"As the surgery was nearing completion, the tiny fetus reached a fully recongnizable hand through the incision and firmly grasped the surgeon's finger."

After viewing the picture, which has been celebrated as the “Hand of Hope,” Samuel’s mother wept for days. “The photo reminds us my pregnancy isn’t about disability or an illness,” she said, “it’s about a little person.”

Little Samuel had been diagnosed in 1999 as having spina bifida, doomed to an early death unless operated on while still in his mother’s womb. Abortion was not an option for Samuel’s parents. During the operation, Dr. Joseph Bruner exteriorized the uterus via C-section and made a small incision to operate on the unborn child. As the surgery was nearing completion, the tiny fetus reached a fully recognizable hand through the incision and firmly grasped the surgeon’s finger. Dr. Bruner was reported as saying that when his finger was grasped in this way, it was the most emotional moment of his life, and that for an instant during the procedure, he was frozen and totally immobile.

The operation was a complete success: Samuel was born in perfect health. When Michael Clancy, the photographer who took the celebrated picture, related the extraordinary event that had just transpired to an attending nurse, she replied, rather matter-of factly, “Oh, they do that all the time.”

A few years later, Sen. Sam Brownback, Republican from Kansas, sponsored a Senate hearing to highlight advances in fetal surgery. Witnesses included Samuel’s parents, photographer Michael Clancy, maternal fetal-medicine specialist Dr. James Thorpe, and Samuel himself. During the hearing, Sen. Brownback pointed to the “Hand of Hope” picture and asked Samuel if he knew who it was. Easy. “Baby Samuel.” The senator then asked if he knew what had been done to him. Samuel, now three years of age, said, “They fixed my boo-boo.”



Samuel Armas and his mother today

While residing in his mother’s uterus, little Samuel was a moral/legal/political paradox. There was no doubt on the part of his parents that their child, despite his tiny frame and spina bifida, was a human being endowed with the right to go on living. Abortion, though legal, was out of the question. Dr. Bruner, law and politics aside, recognized the humanity of his patient and so did the insurance company that covered the bill. Yet some politicians and lawmakers would see nothing immoral about snuffing out Samuel’s life in the womb.

It may be that we sometimes want to derive more from what is symbolic than what is warranted. It is tempting to contrast the grateful finger of Samuel with the reluctant finger of Adam, and draw the conclusion that a child shall lead us. Yet, in this case, the symbols are not mere creations of the imagination. They are firmly grounded in fact. We adults, stricken as we are by a thousand anxieties, often allow our enthusiasm for life to wane. We slide, however slowly and imperceptibly, from being pro-life to being pro-life-without-too-many inconveniences. The tiny child in the womb knows no such anxieties. He is entirely for life, since life is all he knows. He represents life uncompromised. He is our pro-life role model.

Why would Dr. Bruner find the curling of a fetal hand around his finger to be the “most emotional moment of his life”? A medical doctor who is schooled in science and skilled in surgery is usually not given to sentimental indulgence. Did Dr. Bruner touch the root of life, life in its purity, life uncontaminated by the doubts of a self-indulgent adult world? Did he feel, for that brief moment, like a god whose creature, unlike Adam, welcomed his life-giving touch?

Photographer Michael Clancy said, “Samuel Armas made more of an impact on this world before he was born than most of us make in a lifetime.”

This is a humbling thought for most of us. It is not our achievements that count so much as our love for and dedication to life. A child, indeed, shall lead us. The life of the living is paramount. Little Samuel, by a simple gesture, put this point back into focus for us. And this is why his hand is appropriately called the “Hand of Hope.”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
DeMarco, Donald. "Hope and Innocence." Lay Witness (January/February 2006): 10-11.