What Do You Put in the Collection Basket?

What you put in the collection basket says a lot about you and where you are at in your journey.

Some of us put in our 10% tithing without a second thought.

Some of us put in the few “extra” dollars we may have.

Some of us struggle with the need to “give”to the already “rich” church and so put in very little.

I remember once when one of my sons was quite young and had — unbeknownst to me — picked up all his change from his room and put it in the collection basket as it passed. I think it was about 19 cents.

But very few of us realize that when that basket passes, it is an incredible opportunity to give anything and everything to God.

Sure, it is about money and tithing; but money is only the beginning. That collection basket is a chance to empty yourself so that your gifts may be joined to those of Christ’s at the altar and used for God’s kingdom. They will be joined in the consecration and if offered with no strings attached can be appropriately dispensed by God, who sees all.

Remember that Mass transcends time and space and you are joining all the Masses said, at all moments in time, and that your gifts become priceless in the ways they can be given to others if you so freely give them yourself.

The next time the collection basket passes, along with your spare change or your envelope, make a point to put in your joy. God will use it to bless someone else who may need a bit of joy.

The next time the collection basket passes, along with your spare change or your envelope, make a point to put in your praise and awe of the mighty God we serve. God will use it to bless someone who may be struggling with their faith and in need of your beautiful gift of praise and awe.

The next time the collection basket passes, along with your spare change or your envelope, make a point to put in your sorrow, grief or despair. God will divide up those burdens among your fellow worshippers — across time and space — who are asking with a heart full of love to lighten someone else’s burden. Trust that someone’s heart is open to your needs and your load will be lightened or you will begiven courage and strength to carry it. In other words, there is no way you can put your sorrow or your grief or your despair into the basket and have it taken to the altar and it not be changed!

We simply don’t know the ways our offerings may be used; but we can be assured that they will be used in anointed ways. The point is to give everything over at that moment in Mass and trust in God.

Does God need this from us? Of course not!

Does God desire this from us? Of course He does! Just as He freely gave His Son, we, too, can give freely of ourselves gifts that can be blessed at the altar; gifts that can be joined at the foot of the Cross and used in blessed, anointed or even redemptive ways (reflect on redemptive suffering, for instance).

Consider some of the words and phrases said at Mass during the consecration and see your gifts collected in the baskets now placed at the altar being transformed with these words:

Through him we ask you to accept and bless these gifts we offer you in sacrifice…

Father, accept this offering from your whole family…

Bless and approve our offering: make it acceptable to you…

Look with favor on these offerings and accept them as once you accepted the gifts of your servant Abel…

Almighty God, we pray that your angel may take this sacrifice to your altar in heaven…

Let your spirit come upon these gifts to make them holy…

There is so much that we can freely give to God and an ideal time to do this is during Mass—when that collection basket gets handed to each of us. We can fill it with love and kindness and hope and pain and regret. We can ask our guardian angels to accompany it to the altar. We can allow ourselves to be transformed by what we can give at the altar as much as we can be transformed by what we take from the altar. God allows us, in so many ways, to participate in His goodness. Filling the collection basket to the brim is just one incredible way in which we work with God for His kingdom!

So the next time the basket makes its way to you, remember: Nothing is too big or too small to be taken to the altar — it only needs to be given wholly so that it can become holy.

Cheryl Dickow
www.BezalelBooks.com

Being a Fool for Christ

The rich man asked Jesus what was necessary to enjoy eternal life. Apparently the man had been a devout follower of the laws but still questioned what that final“piece” needed to be for his own salvation. I think it is interesting that the guy knew, in his heart, that more was still being asked of him. Unfortunately, the answer saddened the man, for Christ told him that he had to sell all his possessions—and the guy had a lot of stuff!

We don’t know, based upon the reading of the text, if the man did or did not do as Christ instructed. We read that he walked away sad but that doesn’t necessarily translate into disobedience.

I am often sad when I have to “do the right thing” but it doesn’t stop me from doing it.

So let’s give this rich guy the benefit of the doubt and say that he forlornly sold his possessions but then followed Christ. We know, of course, that his sadness would have been fleeting, right? After all, he was now in a position to enjoy eternal rewards with Jesus.

However, in this scenario we are then left with a bigger picture: what did all this rich guy’s friends and family say while he was liquidating?

“Are you crazy? Think how long and hard you worked for all this!”

“Why are you acting so irrational? There must be some other solutions!”

“You are being a fool!”

That, by my estimation, may very well be what Jesus was asking of the rich man—and what He asks of each of us: to be a fool. Which on the face of it sounds ridiculous; but when we contemplate what it means to be a fool for Christ, we can understand the depth of what we have to give up—or how we must be perceived—to be a “fool for Christ.” And then we see that being a fool for Christ takes us to the very heart of humility and selflessness where our ego simply cannot exist. We know in our hearts it is that “something more”—just as the rich man knew that there was something more being asked of him.

Being a fool for Christ often translates into doing things that make us look foolish—that even make us feel stupid or embarrassed. If we have become comfortable in our positions, aren’t risking anything for the Kingdom, and are surrounded by like-minded people, we can’t possibly be fools for Christ. It is when our egos take a hit, when our actions are questioned, that we become the real fools.

Being a fool for Christ means feeling embarrassed at your own passions because you are sharing them where they aren’t understood or even welcome. It puts your ego on the line and exposes you to ridicule and even mockery. Being a fool for Christ means people are saying about you, to you, or even behind your back, “What are you thinking? Who are you kidding? What are doing?”

You see, those questions have no sound, reasonable answers outside of the request Jesus makes of us to be in obedience. I can’t explain why I would write and publish Catholic books when I could be lucratively employed in the secular world—except that Christ has called me to it.

There are no rational answers to those questions, just as there were no sane answers the rich man could have given to his incredulous friends and family.

He was just being a fool for Christ.

Cheryl Dickow

www.BezalelBooks.com

The Four Marks of the Catholic Church

Every time a Catholic recites the Nicene Creed, he is proclaiming belief in the “Four Marks of the Church.” He joins with all other believers and professes a faith which says, “We believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church…”

These “four marks” are called “indelible” in that they cannot be changed or removed. They are the same as when Christ founded the church and will remain the same until his return. As indicated in the Nicene Creed, they bind together the believers in a unique and significant way.

The first mark: the church is one.

As diverse as we are, we are also considered one in that we are one body in Christ. Even as we bring our different cultures to the one body of Christ, we all believe that this Christ is our Lord and Savior; in him we have our redemption.  All who have been baptized are part of his one, true church.

The second mark: the church is holy.

The teachings of the church lead each believer to holiness. They never lead away from God—who calls all to holiness.

While we continue to stumble and often even grope our way to our eternal reward in heaven, we can look towards the church to aid us in our call to holiness. The teachings of the Magisterium help us unwrap the Truths of our faith as we seek holiness.

The third mark: the church is catholic.

Catholic means “universal.” It beckons all men—throughout the ages and across the globe—towards the truths of Christ. Its universality began at Pentecost with men of every nation gathered and has since retained the same fullness of faith throughout time.

The fourth mark: the church is apostolic.

The Catholic Church is apostolic in nature. It began with the teachings of Christ given to the apostles and will remain the same until Christ’s second coming. It is the only Church which can trace its roots back to the first apostles—and the first Vicar of Christ: Peter.

These four indelible marks of the Catholic Church are proclaimed by believers in communion with other believers and are meant to inspire the humility of Christ in each one. They are immutable gifts from God, established by Christ, that exist because of his grace and mercy. These four marks of the Catholic Church (one, holy, catholic, and apostolic) and are meant for our sanctification and his glory.

Cheryl Dickow
www.BezalelBooks.com

 

 

 

Chicken Little

I had an odd response to the 2012 presidential election: I stopped watching the news.

I also stopped reading the news on the Internet.

In fact, not a single television show appealed to me and the blackened screen simply became a piece of ubiquitous furniture in the center of the room. At that point I had already abandoned social media such as Facebook and Twitter so I was left with a decent amount of time on my hands.

My work as a Catholic publisher took on a new meaning. I was working on Jennifer Frank’s fiction title He Shall Be Peace and I found myself praying for it every moment of my work day. My desire to get solid, entertaining, faith-filled books into the hands of the lay faithful became an obsession.

As did my own desire to read.

My appetite for books was ravenous. In the month and a half following the election I read well over a dozen books. I read the entire Book of Revelation (Navarre Bible Study version) as well as the entire Gospel of Matthew (Navarre Bible Study version). Every day brought new titles in the mail (since all our local bookstores have closed). I visited many Catholic websites and paid high prices for shipping and full retail price in an effort to make some sort of pro-Catholic statement with my consumer dollars.

During that time, my own business required me to have conversations with a variety of people from across the country: mostly women, but a couple of men, too. Somehow the conversations always took a turn in which I would need to admit to my perplexing response to the election (which at first I couldn’t quite explain). I was quite taken aback as I was told by every person—without exception—“Me, too! I can’t quite figure out why but I feel drawn inward.”

Very quickly I was able to see that I wasn’t alone in my reaction. As those conversations became more numerous and consistent in what people were saying I began to more fully understand my own reaction: I was being called to strengthen myself in Christ. I needed to immerse my mind, heart and spirit in the things of Christ. My foundation needed to be built on the rock of salvation so as to be able to withstand whatever was to come against it.

Sound crazy?

Maybe.

Okay, probably.

But I recalled the phrase: “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t after you.”

Just because every generation has had a Chicken Little doesn’t mean the sky isn’t about to fall.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no Chicken Little. At least I didn’t think so…

Since I made a donation to the 2012 Republican Party, I’m now on a few contact lists. A few weeks ago Rick Santorum’s new Super Pac committee gave me a call.

The gal on the phone said, “If you could describe your response to the 2012 presidential election in one word what would it be?”

That’s easy, “Tragic.”

Clearly I gave the sort of response that led the young person at the other end to proceed according to her outlined script, “Then may I ask you to listen to a one-minute, pre-recorded message from Mr. Santorum?”

I have a tremendous amount of respect for Santorum who is a pro-life, like-minded fellow Catholic so was easily able to say, “Certainly!”

Now if you would have known me before the election, you would have rightfully expected my response to the pre-recorded message to be one of enthusiastic passion as I pulled out my checkbook and contemplated what I could give and yet still feed my family. However, my heart rate remained steady as I listened to Rick’s zealous message about “now more than ever….”

When it was over the gal came back on the line and continued with her script, “As you can see, it is very important that we stop the …”

I politely let her finish reading from her script which then ended with a request for my help. At that point I responded in the most natural way possible. I didn’t even think about what I was about to say. It just came out so matter-of-factly that it even caught me by surprise, “I’m sorry but I believe our time is better spent right now preparing for Christ’s return.”

There was dead silence at the other end.

I admit I felt like a right-wing lunatic—those stereotypical ones that are made fun of in the media and in Hollywood. I actually felt bad for this young woman as I’m sure she frantically tried to find that particular response in her script so that she would know how to proceed. I didn’t want to be rude and hang up so I waited.

After a full minute of silence (during which I imagined her keying in some sort of comment by my name on her list) she finally said, “Ok. Thank you.”

To which I could only reply, with a heart full of compassion for the predicament in which I had unintentionally put her, “You are welcome.”

I hung up having a whole new respect for Chicken Little. Poor guy.

Cheryl Dickow

www.BezalelBooks.com

(graphic © Muhammad Hatza Prabowo Aji | Dreamstime.com

Letting God Find You...

Before my feet touched the floor on January 1^st, 2012, I offered a simple prayer: Please Lord, before the year is over, find me where you want me to be.

Up to that point, I had been suffering from a decades-long chronic condition and although imagined health in my future, that morning I offered every cell in my body to the Lord. I just wanted to serve Him and His kingdom. If He wanted me to be healthy, so be it. If He had other plans, so be it.

From that point on, all hell broke loose.

The first Friday in January, I was on-air when I had an “episode” and was forced to hang up quite abruptly and was immediately taken to the emergency room by my husband. I’ve got to admit, there is nothing quite as humbling as having to hang up during an interview on a national radio show because the room is spinning and the floor seems to be at a 45 degree angle and you are crawling for help.

I suffered more physical problems over the next few months than I had in the previous years; I was subjected to countless medical tests and procedures. It wasn’t exactly what I envisioned 2012 would bring when I offered myself completely to God; but a few close friends helped me survive the year. They were the ones God put in my life to lower me, on my mat, through the roof so that I could get to Christ (see Mark 2:4).

The year is now coming to a close and I remember well that simple prayer I spoke on January 1^st.

Am I where God wants to find me?

I believe I am.

I’ve learned a lot this past year and have tremendous gratitude (and maybe am a bit intimidated) that God would take my prayer so seriously—and allow me to be molded so intimately this year to His will so that He would find me exactly where He wanted me to be.

Last week I spoke to a group of catechetical leaders and the topic was “Becoming a Saint One Day at a Time.” I was able to illustrate 7 different ways that God molds us in our everyday lives. Spending time with these leaders was very anointed and their gracious feedback gave me confirmation that I am, indeed, where God wants me to be.

Along the way this year, my company has published a number of books that I also recognize as gifts from God.

When I started Bezalel Books in 2007, I wanted to serve God through great Catholic fiction. I was a parochial middle school teacher (English and religion) and wanted to see a time where Catholic fiction books flooded the classrooms. It was dream to offer the sort of books that feed the soul while also entertaining and enlightening to kids and parents. I also wanted to give a platform to authors who may not have one otherwise and on January 1^st of 2012, it was my sole desire to make sure that the works of Bezalel Books would continue to exist only if it was God’s holy will and purpose for my life.

To that end, I’m so honored to serve God through our 2012 titles. Most recently, and just in time for Christmas, is one of the most blessed books I feel we’ve ever published: He Shall Be Peace. Written by Jennifer Franks, this fiction book is based upon the visions of the venerable Catherine Anne Emmerich and is the sort of book that lifts the spirit of the reader to new heights.

God certainly has been good in answering my prayer to put me where He wants to find me this year—even if the route He has taken wasn’t quite the one I would have mapped out.

2013?

I’m not sure what I’ll offer before my feet touch the floor; but I am sure that whatever it is, God will be listening.

May your Advent be a blessed and holy one!

 Cheryl Dickow

www.BezalelBooks.com

Where Do You Write Your Hurts?

Two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey, they had an argument and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who had been slapped was hurt but without saying anything, wrote in the sand: Today my best friend slapped me in the face.

They kept on walking until they found an oasis where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning. The friend saved her. After she recovered from the near drowning, she wrote on a stone: Today my best friend saved my life.

The friend who had slapped and saved her best friend asked: After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now you write on stone. Why?

The other friend replied: When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness and waters of love can easily wash it away. When someone does something good for us we should engrave it in stone where it can remain for years to come.

From this wonderful tale of two friends we learn how important it is to write our hurts in sand and to carve our benefits in stone.

This is particularly important for women who, by their very nature, tend to be wounded more easily than men. This isn’t to say that men do not get hurt but that the inherent differences between men and women mean that each has a more specific response to experiences than does the other. It is the understanding that what makes women unique also makes women vulnerable. Women are made to be channels of love, selflessly given through acts of charity and as givers of life, which inevitably translates into a vulnerability of sorts.

It is never in a woman’s best interest to close herself up or “protect” herself with walls as this diminishes or even takes away her God-given “womanly” traits: her ability to “know” the things of God and man—what John Paul II called her “feminine genius.”

Rather, a woman serves God and herself best when she learns to experience the fullness of life as God intended and learns to write her sorrow in sand and her joy in stone.

Cheryl Dickow

www.BezalelBooks.com

Girls Just Want to Have Fun!

A gorgeous jacket caught my eye as I was flipping through an issue of a fashion magazine, trying to find the “perfect” haircut—you know, just cute enough to say I am still “fashionable” yet not too cute as to say “I’m 54 years-old trying to look 30.” The jacket was what I would call “car length.” It was covered in an animal print.

I loved it!

At that point, having lost my focus on trying to find a picture of a perfect haircut to take to my stylist, I intently surveyed the different animal print products—from handbags to pants to shoes—each seeming a bit wild and yet quite appealing. Of course at my age I couldn’t fathom donning a full-on animal print ensemble—or maybe I was never at the correct age to wear such an outfit—but there was still something attractive about an animal print accessory, and most especially that coat!

It just seemed “fun.”

Sometimes, as Christian women, we forget that we are called to have fun. In our day-to-day living in which we embrace our roles as wives and mothers and sisters and care-givers, we forget that there ought to be joy in our journey. Often that joy is a quiet one, maybe it settles upon our spirit during Eucharistic Adoration or it may be found in caring for a sick family member or even in serving food to the homeless; but other times joy is that sheer pleasure of being alive. It is that recognition that God made us uniquely female and that we have an ability to experience our world in a very feminine, fun way.

Time spent with our friends tends to reflect who we are: those who have been created different but equal to men. In the space of a lunch together we can laugh, cry, pray and laugh some more. We have the capacity to contemplate the things of the world while being able to loving tend to a scraped knee.

Some of us can bake and sew—this gal has not been given those particular talents—while others may be able to organize school plays or board meetings.

Through it all, with everything that rests upon our shoulders, it is good to remember that we are called to have fun.

When my third son was a youngster I remember that he used to skip everywhere he went. I got such a kick out of watching him skipping to his bike, skipping down the hall to his bedroom and skipping through the grocery aisles. For me, seeing him skip around reflected his innate ability to have fun—his great joy at being alive and very much in the moment.

Ah, youth!

Looking at that animal print jacket in the magazine, I was reminded of my son’s skipping; I was reminded that my journey, too, is meant to be fun. As Christian women we have to be cautious to not get too bogged down in our duties at matriarchs wherein the fun of being alive sort of slowly vanishes.

Fun isn’t just for the young but, as they say, for the young at heart.

None of my friends can understand why I am so anxious for cooler temperatures to arrive. But it will all become clear when they see the fun coat I have to wear!

My Name Is Cheryl...And I Am A Weakling

My name is Cheryl.

And I am a weakling.

That’s the kind of group I want to be in: the kind of group where we each take the stand and own up to who we are—who we really are. Not the avatars we put out in the world through our blogs and our tweets; but who we are at the core.

After all, that’s where we will all ultimately connect, where we will all see one another as Christ sees us: as humanity steeped in the dignity of our creation but as a weak humanity in need of strength found in him who has offered us salvation.

I love being weak.

It means I’m “needy” which seems, to many people I am sure, to be an unpleasant state of being. And I’ve been trampled on more than a few times in my weakened state. I don’t always fight back when society would say that I should. I’ve been hurt and I’ve been wounded.

For years I tried to fight being weak. A bit ironic, right?

I wanted to be able to pick myself up by my bootstraps. I wanted to be able to say with confidence and pride that I was able to overcome life’s obstacles. However, at 54 years old, it occurs to me that being weak can be worn as a badge of honor (humbly, of course). In my weakness I have put aside my agenda and my goals—not in a defeated way but in the understanding that they can easily overcome me, they can quickly replace discernment of spirit, they can negate my need to find strength through Christ.

In admitting my weakness, I have become strong.

God has given me incredible strength through women who have become friends in the deepest sense of the word. They have surrounded me with love and have moved me forward, past pain and into God’s arms and his grace.

They’ve lowered me, in my weakened state, on the mat through the roof to Christ; and to them I owe everything. They have given me life and hope. Christ did not abandon me in my weakness but strengthened me through these women, these friends.

My name is Cheryl.

And I am a weakling.

Should I Pray for Healing...Or Should I Carry My Cross?

It is ironic that, as a Catholic, the most difficult part of having a chronic health issue isn’t the health issue itself but is the big question: Should I pray for healing…or should I carry my cross?

And it is that question that often keeps us spiraling through a journey that is already burdensome and often overwhelming.

In my own journey, which has lasted for the better part of two decades, I know that I’ve gone through many different phases. There were times that I tried to take on St. Paul’s attitude of embracing the “thorn” of an illness while at other times I was on my knees praying—between sobs of anguish—for healing. I’ve attended Healing Masses where I’ve been prayed over by a team of healers and have hands laid upon me; I’ve had private healing prayers said over me.

I’ve done novenas and have sought alternative medical care—all at my own expense—when the established medical system failed me. I’ve been in bed unable to move from the dizziness that has enveloped me and have quietly asked God to use it as He saw fit. I’ve asked Mary to join my suffering to her Son’s and heal another person’s suffering. If a book has been written about healing, I’ve read it and believed in the miracles that Christ performed—and waited for mine.

What I’ve come to see, though, is that while the case can be made that Christ always healed, there is also an important back story that we don’t often think about: how long did that person suffer before Christ healed him or her? In one case we know it was 12 years. The woman with the hemorrhage suffered for 12 years. I remember well the 12th year of my own illness. I remember thinking “This is it! It is my time for healing! Sure 12 years seems like a long time but now I’ll be healed!”

Didn’t happen.

Twelve years came and went and still no healing; but that is because it wasn’t my time. Not easy to admit; but the back story is very important. And that is what I’ve really learned during these past two decades: the back story is the real story. It is always about our personal journey towards Christ and towards wholeness and holiness.

My back story is unique for me; it is the yoke Christ has fashioned that joins me to Him but has my own growth and salvation in mind. It wasn’t easy for me to begin sharing my story with others but I learned in these past few years that the story wasn’t mine to begin with—no story ever really is—it belongs to God to use for His kingdom. 

What is the back story Christ is trying to tell with you?

I hope that in sharing my gift of suffering in Wrapped Up: God’s Ten Gifts for Women, your own journey will be lightened. I’ve prayed for every woman who reads this book and trust that God will honor those prayers for you—and that your own back story will be blessed.

Cheryl Dickow

www.BezalelBooks.com

Chronic Illness: A Gift from God?

For years the only person who knew I suffered from a chronic illness was my husband. Over time, and out of necessity, a few more people were allowed into my world of health issues—and yet no one really knew the severity of what I went through, except my husband.

What I’ve come to realize is that I prefer my world be divided into two clear parts: the private, reclusive Cheryl and the author, writer, teacher, social Cheryl. Mostly, though, at the heart of who I am is the private, reclusive Cheryl.

My quiet, alone time is important to  me—even more so since I began spiritual direction a few years ago and sought to understand the movements of God in my life and live accordingly. I need to be with God in a very real way and have learned how to respond to the ache for Him through my prayer life and “down time.”

As the years progressed and I understood that my physical suffering had value, I began sharing bits and pieces of what I was going through: severe joint problems, nights of dizziness and vomiting that rivaled scenes from The Exorcist, and constant feelings of imbalance (just to name a few). I’m not sure where I saw my “sharing” going but believed that God was using it for some reason beyond the way it was drawing me deeper in my relationship with Him. I was willing to let Him use it as He saw fit. That was all I knew at the time.

So it was that when I signed the contract with Servant Books to write Wrapped Up: God’s Ten Gifts for Women I knew it was time for it to be shared in a very public way in the chapter “The Gift of Suffering.” Still, it isn’t easy opening yourself up to the world and letting people know about your life experiences. It isn’t easy to shine a light on what you are going through and suggest that someone else can draw insight or inspiration from it.

Quite frankly, I would rather have been healthy my whole life; and I share that sentiment and frustration as well in the book.

Nonetheless, I’m allowing God to continue to mold me (I keep thinking “Potter-Clay”) and although I’m still on the journey towards wholeness and health, I pray that the knowledge that suffering from a chronic condition can be a gift from God will shine through in my words which have been prayed through and offered up for every woman who reads Wrapped Up: God’s Ten Gifts for Women.