Choosing Heaven: My children often ask me questions about Heaven. What does Heaven look like? Is there nighttime in Heaven? Do you get hungry in Heaven? Are there oceans in Heaven? Will we feel bored in Heaven? My answer is almost always the same: “I can’t tell you for sure.” I guess I didn’t realize how little we actually know about Heaven until I had kids who were obsessed with hearing the details.

Driving up my street in late spring, you can see which yard is mine from a whole block away: it’s the one covered in dandelions. And I like it that way.

I fear neither my husband’s shame nor the snarky comments of neighbors: I will never apologize for my dandelion-filled yard. “It’s for the pollinators,” I say, but it’s a total lie. I just think it looks lovely. Who doesn’t like a splash of yellow after a long, dreary winter?

Sometimes I feel capable of absorbing almost anything except God’s Word. My mind soaks up song lyrics, sports trivia, and endless online content. But what was the reading at Mass this morning? I struggle to recall. That realization discourages me, and it leads to an uncomfortable question. What is my heart really for? Is it shaped for constant information and distraction, or is it truly designed for God? Am I capable of deeply receiving His Word?

A few years ago, I met a woman in my parish who was a successful lawyer. Yet in her free time, she poured her energy into a nonprofit she founded to advocate for children with special needs. When I asked what in- spired her, she spoke of her niece, who was born with disabilities. Her niece was both a glorious gift and a constant challenge. Out of that painful, beautiful experience, she felt called to create something lasting for other children and parents. The nonprofit thrived, not because she had mapped it all out, but because she was deeply moved to act.

I was 16 years old on a youth group retreat in the mountains. One night, I opened my heart to the message being proclaimed: that God so loved the world that He sent His Son for us. Later, I lay under the pine trees and looked up at the countless stars. They seemed different. No longer cold, distant balls of chemical reac- tions, they appeared as an expression of God’s love, as if He were giving those stars directly to me. The truth of God sending His Son changed how I saw the whole universe.

If you’re asthmatic, you know the phrase “as natural as breathing” doesn’t always make a lot of sense. Maybe that’s because breathing isn’t always natural. Sometimes, it’s supernatural.

I come from a family of asthmatics. In my earliest childhood memories, my sister’s nose and mouth are covered with a bulbous plastic mask connected by clear tubes to her transportable nebulizer.

When I first read Homer’s Odyssey as a teenager, one scene captured my imagination: Odysseus finally returning home after 20 years, yet no one recognized him. Distinguished as a beggar, he speaks with his wife, his son and even his enemies. He is fully present, yet hidden. Only at the right moment does he reveal himself, and everyone realizes he has been with them all along. I was struck by the mystery that he could be so close to his loved ones, and yet they simply could not identify him.

Mini reflection: There is a reason Christ showed his wounds as he said the words, “Peace be with you.” It was not just a means of identifying himself — it was a catechism lesson. Here, he was saying. Here is the peace you will not find anywhere else.

Within Thy Wounds

The month of March and the first few weeks of April is a time of mixture: crocuses and snowflakes, new buds and dry leaves. Crosswinds blow both cold and warm. In early spring, we are heartened by the coming of spring and the disheartening trek to H&R Block to submit taxes! March and early April is that in- between time when we are not quite sure. We are caught in the middle of seasons…do I put away the snow shovels or bring out the deck furniture?

This weekend, I am happy to welcome our new Director of Music and Organist, Krishan Oberoi, to St. Mary Parish. Last October, I invited five parishioners to help me form a search committee for our next Director of Music and Organist.

Our first order of business was to create a job description and a job opening ad. After posting the ad, I received many applications, and from those applications, the committee and I invited four applicants for an interview.