Faith and Family | Susan Hines-Brigger

Susan Hines-Brigger

Susan has worked at St. Anthony Messenger for 27 years and is an executive editor. She and her husband, Mark, are the proud parents of four kids— Maddie, Alex, Riley, and Kacey. Aside from her family, her loves are Disney, traveling, and sports.

Susan welcomes your comments and suggestions!

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CatholicFamily@ FranciscanMedia.org

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Faith and Family 28 W. Liberty St. Cincinnati, OH 45202

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I’m Praying for You

“You’re in my thoughts and prayers.” “I’ll be praying for you.”

How many times have we heard people say those words or said them ourselves? We often say them as a way to bring comfort to someone in need when there is nothing else we can do to help or fix something. But do we really mean it? I started to question that of myself a few years ago.

It seemed as if every time I would scroll through social media, I would find myself typing something similar to what I said above in response to friends’ requests for prayers. Sometimes I simply clicked on the praying hands emoji. Then I would continue to scroll on to the next post or move on to the next thing. I felt like a fraud.

Assuring people that we will pray for their petition can seem like the only thing we can do when faced with struggles. We can’t cure diseases, keep people safe, or fix what is broken—physically, emotionally, or spiritually. What we can do, though, is ask God for help.

SAINTS HELP US

And therein lies the power of intercessory prayer. According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, one of the definitions of the word intercessory is: “prayer, petition, or entreaty in favor of another.” Therefore, in terms of our faith, intercessory prayer is the act of offering up prayers to God on behalf of others. What it isn’t, of course, is a magic equation of: we ask, God hears us, and God answers our prayers.

Sometimes we pray by asking for the intercession of the saints or Mother Mary. We may seek out saints who happen to be patrons or patronesses of a certain cause. For instance, if someone is suffering from a chronic illness, he or she may pray to St. Juliana, patroness of those with chronic illnesses. And who among us hasn’t asked for St. Anthony’s help to find something that we have lost?

DOING MY PART

And that was when I started my prayer journal. It resides on my bedside table. Written inside are the names of all those I know who need or have asked for prayers.

Some of those prayer requests come directly from people I know. Others come from my social media feeds. Even more come from prayer requests made when, every weekday morning, our Franciscan Media staff gathers for prayer. Finally, I pray for those who carry their burdens deep within their hearts, unknown to both me and others.

The more challenging pages of my prayer notebook, though, are the ones on which I have written the names of individuals who challenge me with their behavior or those who have wronged me. They, too, deserve my prayers.

Every night I open that notebook and pray for each of them—line by line, name by name, situation by situation. Sometimes I ask God for healing. Other times I ask for peace, comfort, or clarity. Mostly I just pray that God gives each of those people what he or she needs. That may not be what either I or that person is asking for, but I know that God will provide what he or she needs.

And, of course, as a mom I pray to Mother Mary to watch over my kids, protecting and guiding them as they grow and step away from me and my husband.

Before I finish my prayers and close my notebook, though, I say a prayer for myself. I ask for the strength to be present to those in need of comfort, as well as patience and love for the times when I am being less than loving. And I remind myself—the writer—to remember that words matter. So, for anyone who has asked for my prayers, rest assured that I truly mean it when I say, “I will be praying for you.”

“For we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.”

—Romans 8:26b

Anyone who has been involved in family life in any capacity likely understands this passage. Whether a struggle with a sibling, deep concerns over a parent, times of agony while raising children, or working through a difficult situation with a spouse, sometimes our distress is so deep that even a Glory Be feels difficult.

It’s during these painful family times that I lean on Paul’s assertion that the “Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.” This verse gives me relief; I can relax a bit and truly trust that my intentions during my times of desolation will be brought forth to God by the Holy Spirit. And all will be well.

RETIREMENT—ALL REST AND RELAXATION?

You might think that my life is simple now—my sons are grown up, married, employed, and my husband and I are retired. My worries and prayer life can relax, right? Truly, family strife doesn’t end here. New challenges come our way keeping us on our knees. Whether for our adult children, grandchildren, spouses, aging parents, siblings, etc., God nudges us constantly toward prayer.

Once our kids leave home, our spiritual influence steadily drops off. They might carry on with their childhood faith lessons, or even strengthen them. Or they might become lukewarm, or let their faith fade away.

Whatever their adult spiritual paths, we must trust in God. There is, however, a hope-giving strategy: We can pray for them. While they might (and probably will) ignore our words of advice, they are unable to escape our prayers; perhaps especially when our prayers are so full of heartache that we must lean on the Spirit’s groanings on our behalf.

Our prayers—whether for our adult children, grandchildren, siblings, spouses, parents, nieces, or nephews—will bear fruit. Perhaps not the exact fruit we would like to see, but God will hear and answer the prayers in his way and in his time frame.

Theresa Doyle-Nelson

THE THREE HAIL MARYS

When my oldest son, Seamus, was in college and my influence on him was dwindling, he called one day to say hello. He mentioned that he and some buddies would soon be taking a road trip through a few major cities in Texas. Suddenly, my heart dropped and the tears gushed forth. Dozens of horrible possibilities flashed through my mind, and I didn’t want him to go. But he stood firm; he was establishing some newfound boundaries.

Finally, after going through a dozen or so tissues, I asked Seamus if he would please say three Hail Marys as he was pulling out of the driveway for his road trip. He readily agreed, and my heart immediately settled.

Oddly, I found out some years after that phone call that there is actually a long-standing devotion called the Three Hail Marys Devotion. I was astonished! I thought the Three Hail Marys was my idea! The traditional one is a little more complicated with more specific rules (you can find lots of information online); mine is more spur-of-the-moment—to help soothe times of worry and stress.

The Three Hail Marys has since become somewhat of a family tradition. If something is making me feel ill at ease, I ask my sons (and my daughters-in-law) to do this practice, and they respond favorably. I quietly add my own prayers, knowing that the Holy Spirit is working with me, and I feel comfort.

—Theresa Doyle-Nelson

Friar Pete & Repeat

These scenes may seem alike to you, but there are changes in the two. So look and see if you can name eight ways in which they’re not the same. (Answers below)

now has only three leaves. 7) There is an exclamation point on the sign. 8) The little girl’s nose is a different shape. sidewalk. 4) Two of the bricks on the church wall are no longer visible. 5) The cardinal’s tail shows two feathers. 6) The clover ANSWERS: 1) The dog’s boots are higher. 2) Sister Agnes’ cord no longer has sections on it. 3) There is an extra line on the

StAnthonyMessenger.org | March 2022 • 45

CHRISTOPHER HEFFRON

is the editorial director of Franciscan Media and the coexecutive editor of St. Anthony Messenger, a magazine he has worked on since 2001. Aside from writing and editing, this Cincinnati native appreciates good spirits, pop culture, and useless information.

WANT MORE? Check out our daily online prayer resource, Pause+Pray: FranciscanMedia.org/ pausepray

Spring Awakenings

In sixth-grade English, we were tasked with finding a poem that “spoke to us.” It was a two-part assignment. We were to recite it in front of the class along with our interpretation. I remember one student chose a Shel Silverstein poem; another picked Mr. Mister’s ’80s pop ballad “Kyrie.” I went in a different direction. I chose Confucius’ ode to mortality, “You Will Die.” The poem ends as follows:

“You have wine and food.

Why not play daily on your lute,

That you may enjoy yourself now

And lengthen your days?

By and by you will die,

And another will take your place.”

I launched into my deconstruction of the poem: In short, life is cyclical and impermanent; enjoy the days before you are replaced. I can remember my teacher’s ashen face when I finished. Was it too dark for a child? Was my choice in assignment masking some preteen angst? (The answers are probably yes and no, not really.) I love the poem still because, far from being cryptic, it encourages us to live in the moment, to appreciate the song before it’s over. It has more to say about living than dying.

Lent is the time to think about the polarities of life. Endings and beginnings. Christ died; Christ returned. Our faith tradition hinges on his conquering death so that we may have life. But death and rebirth play out daily in far less significant ways. Seasonally, winter hugs the landscape, but as it starts to yield to the warmth of an encroaching spring, new life is in full bloom. And spring is a fertile time for prayer.

GO EXPLORE

I think we are closest to the beauty and promise of life when we have kids. Full disclosure: With a few exceptions, I am not fond of children and have none of my own. I can only relate to this miracle through my nieces. They are little women now but when they were young, I will admit, I was powerless. When my oldest niece, Rory, was placed in my arms a week or so after she came home, I can remember looking into her face and seeing someone unburdened by a cynical world. I envied this little person with a clean slate.

The world—even an uncertain one—was made for her, and she was at the very beginning of the journey. Her sister, Cameron, came a couple years later, and one of my great joys as an uncle was watching them discover the world with fresh eyes.

When we pray, I like to think that is when we are at our most childlike. When we extract ourselves from the noise of the world and quiet our minds for a conversation with God, that is when our hearts should be purest. Now that spring is starting to show her face, I see a purity in nature. The buds on the trees, the

fl owers poking through the chilled earth, the birds readying their nests for new life: All of it bears God’s signature.

Sometimes the greatest “amen” we can off er is simply going outside to explore a world made for us.

A WALKING PRAYER

I am a walker—that’s how I investigate the world around me. It’s the one time I remove myself from all distractions and focus only on the steps ahead of me. I used to run for exercise, but the onset of middle age sidelined me from that activity. It’s for the best, really. Walking is more meditative. But I have grown to rely on this almost daily outlet. For me, walking is part exercise, part exorcism: Stretching my legs casts out my demons.

Because I’m something of a masochist, I prefer urban hikes with stairs to climb, but I’m just as comfortable in nature on a crisp morning. When I look around, I like that I am dwarfed by trees. I appreciate that I am outnumbered by animals and insects who see me when I cannot see them. It puts us clumsy humans in our rightful place.

When I walk in the woods, I oft en think of my favorite quote from poet Rabindranath Tagore: “Trees are earth’s endless eff ort to speak to a listening heaven.” My prayers have a similar trajectory: Th ey start out as saplings and grow skyward. I come to God as a child would. Th at’s the way it should be.

Perhaps my greatest prayers happen when I’m on foot. Perhaps it is where I feel most comfortable opening my heart to a listening heaven.

GOD’S SONG

Dear God,

Th e leaves on the trees sway

to the rhythm of your song.

Th e birds are singing your chorus,

while the breeze holds the melody.

Let me stop and appreciate your symphony.

And let me add my own notes.

Because I, too, am an instrument—

and together we are an interconnected part of

your majesty, your gift s, this world, our home.

Amen.

LEFT: SANYA SM/ISTOCK; LOWER RIGHT: ROCKPTARMIGAN/ISTOCK

ACTION

STEPS • Life is full of distractions—and it takes discipline to ignore them. But give it a try. Turn off your television and smartphone. Close your laptop and fi nd a quiet corner or a comfortable chair. Spend fi ve minutes in prayerful meditation. Tomorrow, try for 10, and build from there.

• If you are able, take a walk today and mentally record the sounds of spring.

You’re just as likely to fi nd God in the song of a bird as you are in a Sunday choir. Make it a walking prayer, and notice the signs of new life in bloom.

Show me your hands. Do they have scars from giving? Show me your feet. Are they wounded in service? Show me your heart. Have you left a place for divine love?

—Venerable Fulton Sheen

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