Three thoughts for Three Years

April 19th, 2014

One of my heros, whom I've never met but am convinced we could be friends, Lovelace Howard, Catholic convert, wife of author Thomas Howard (one of my favorites), once said that the third year of her Catholic identity was the year in which she finally began to feel more at ease in this new home of the Church. The first few years seem to be filled with such newness and at times, uncomfortable upheaval that it is hard for a new Catholic to rest in the change around them.

Those words from Lovelace struck a deep cord and have encouraged me often as I looked forward to this, the third anniversary of our full communion with the Catholic Church. And now as it is here, these three thoughts have continued to surface and bring comfort both for the years that have been, and those that will follow.

1. The Lord has led me here

It's been three years since I heard the words,

"The Lord receives you into the Catholic Church.
His loving kindness has led you here,
so that in the unity of the Holy Spirit
you may have full communion with us
in the faith that you have professed
in the presence of his family."

In the years before Catholicism, there began a gradual yearning for more than my current Christianity was able to give.  Although I had and read (and loved) the Bible, although I sought to be a prayerful Christian and desired (and did) grow in my faith, I was not satisfied.  I hungered for something deeper.  In one short car ride, I remember begging God to show me more of himself or I didn't think I could continue on with Christianity. I was yearning for depth, I was desperate to know and taste God's personal love for me; desperate for genuine Christianity lived out among a fallen world, and frustrated that anywhere I turned, a rich, beautiful, deep theology that answered any of my questions was severely lacking.

And then he answered with the shocking answer; The Catholic Church.  I hear those words of confirmation almost every day in my heart as my answer to that prayer long ago.   The Lord has led me here, and because of his loving kindness, I am Catholic.  And although the euphoria has long worn off, and the voice of the Lord is often obscured by the busyness of life or by the darkness of my own stubbornness; day by day I wake up more Catholic than I was merely hours before. The depth that the Church offers the Christian for prayer, Scripture, and God himself are inexhaustible, and to be honest; sometimes overwhelming.  Yet I have found in the moments when I offer my yes, he reveals something more of himself, and myself, that I did not know before.  As a result, growth happens, and faith increases.
Pope Benedict, in Jesus of Nazareth states beautifully,

"Initial enthusiasm is easy: Afterward, though, it is time to stand firm, even along the monotonous desert paths that we are called upon to traverse in this life- with the patience it takes to tread evenly; a patience in which the romanticism of the initial awakening subsides, so that only the deep, pure Yes of faith remains.  This is the way to produce good wine." 

2. The Eucharist is Jesus

Bread and wine become the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ.  Three years ago I became convinced by authors and words on a page; and today, even as my heart struggles to keep pace with the mind's knowledge,  I am perhaps more convinced than ever of the fact of its truth.  Jesus longs and is waiting to give himself to every believer in this most sacred of ways.  For love of us, the formless God became incarnate, took on a physical nature; and won our redemption by his death. In the Eucharist he again hides himself under the physical elements of bread and wine, lavishing his Grace upon us; so that through and by this gift, he might perfect the good work he began in us, until the day he comes again (Phil. 1:6). 

The Eucharist is the divine gift that our bridegroom, Jesus, stands and offers us, his bride, the church.  Although with our eyes we see bread and on our lips we taste wine, we remember Jesus's words in John 6:63 "It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail." And so with humility we can join our prayer with that of the disciples as we beg, Lord, increase our Faith,  for where else can we go, You have the words of eternal life.



3. Christian Unity

Perhaps the most prevailing thought that has cemented itself in our hearts these three years is the necessity and desire for Christian Unity. More so now as we approach the eve of the 500th year of the Protestant Reformation.  In living the two worlds of both Evangelical Protestantism and Catholicism, although far removed from the violence and hatred of centuries past, there still remains a  deep theological divide among the separated brethren of Christian people. And in our subjective world, discussions of true doctrine, theology, and worship tend to be excluded from daily Christian living, pushed aside for personal preference rather than objective truth.

In studying Jesus's high priestly prayer, hours before he would die on a cross for the sins of all people, his yearning and last desires were for unity among those who claimed him as Savior.  "Father, may they be one, as you and I are one" (John 17).  And so it is with a mournful and penitential spirit that we approach this most solemn of anniversaries; asking repentance for the damage done, and grace to build a bridge of restoration and healing.

But in the brokenness there is God, and more than ever before, he has convicted us and brought us to deep thanksgiving for the lessons of our childhoods and the people that formed our lives of Faith in Jesus Christ. Mindful always that there is much more that unites us rather than divides, as the Lord's Grace cannot be exhausted. For he constantly pours out his Goodness among all Christians, and in response, we too should extend abundant Grace to those who both share in our specific professions, and espiecially those that do not.

We pray for a spirit of love among believers, whether Catholic or Protestant; we pray for deeper discussions among brothers and sisters of Christ as to the fullness of the Christian life, and we pray that somehow in the way that only he can, the Lord would lead all those he calls children to be One, even as he and the Father are one; knowing with confidence that lives lived surrendered to Jesus will always result in greater love for neighbor as well.

In Conclusion

The readings for today providentially proclaimed the Road to Emmaus; that journey of the heavy hearted disciples who, while walking and talking with the risen Jesus concerning the events just witnessed in Jerusalem, only came to recognise him "in the breaking of the bread" (Luke 24:35).

From that plea in the car, to the fulfillment of Easter Vigil night, that is my journey of the last three years.  I have seen him more than ever, in the breaking of the bread.

I pray that my testimony invites others to do the same. Much like that of someone who dips a first toe into the pool, thereby alerting others to the safety of a comfortable swim.. so do I offer my experience within the Catholic Church.

My initial dip gave me confidence for the whole plunge, and my heart longs for others to come and see that the water is pure and the swimming is good.  So, on this third anniversary I say come, taste, and see, that the Lord is alive and well in the doors of the Church, and he is ever longing to break bread at the table with you.

The Heart

February 12, 2017

The heart.

I was worried about my confession yesterday.  I didn't think I did it right. Can you not do confession right?  Is there a best way to admit you are a failure at certain things?  Catholics like lists.  They like to know how many, and how often.  And yes, there's even an app for that.  However I've always treaded carefully in these app listing confessional waters.  For me, the act of clicking a box on a screen depersonalizes the personal tragedy that sin creates in my relationship with the Lord.  And so I tend to avoid the list; always wondering if the priest feels sorry for this awkward, very green, new confessing Catholic.

So as I searched my heart and tried to avoid the sterile list checking, I asked the Lord to reveal the underlying reason behind so many of my struggles.  If the symptom is anger, what is the cause? If pride is (and it is) a weakness, why do I feel the need to enhance myself to such a sinful degree? 

After some prayer and a well placed random card at Psalm 121 in my Bible, I understood my struggle as of late.  Underlying much of my problems, beyond the usual culprits, is a mistrust of God himself.  I don't always trust that he has a plan for me, I only see his plans for others.  I don't trust that he cares deeply for my most deeply felt dreams... I assume they are frivolous to the Lord; not spiritual enough to be considered worthy of Him.  I don't trust that this testimony of my life that is unfolding will be used by Him because it's not completely perfected yet. And I am terrified that I will be ultimately more judged than loved.

And then I realized.  I'm just like Adam and Eve.  The first sin wasn't the act of eating a forbidden fruit.  It was not trusting that God was Good.  In their disobedience, (my disobedience)  we begin to question whether our Creator is actually a Loving Father or rather an overbearing rule monger who wants to hold us back from our full potential.  I fight to keep my plans rather placing them in his hands, for his purpose.  And I worry that all of my desires and dreams would cease in giving myself completely to his Will.  All of this worry, because ultimately, I doubt that he is Good.

And Satan said,  

"did God really say...." 

 "God knows well that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, who know good and evil."
"You will certainly not die!"

(Ever heard that voice in your head before?)

But God is Goodness itself.  He is the Good in everything, through everything, and for everything.  He is the one who sought out Adam and Eve in the Garden, and seeks out the sinner still today.  He is the one whose dreams for me and plans for me are bigger and greater than anything I could desire of my own making; if only I would trust him.   He is the one who desires that I should actually share in his Divine Nature (2 Peter 1:4), and whose plans for me are for the sole purpose (no matter what they end up looking like) of giving me a hope and future, not to harm me, but for my good (Jeremiah 29:11).  I forget that a lot. Or maybe I've heard it so much I've allowed it to lose its shocking truth.  

And so that well placed card in my Bible has become my endless Motto these last few weeks.  This is how to silence those thoughts and remember him as my Good Father so that I could surrender my will to His own:
Psalm 121 (parenthesis mine)

I life my eyes to the mountains..
Where does my help come from? (many days I feel alone)
My help comes from the Lord  (I am restless until I rest in thee)
The Maker of heaven and earth. (and the maker of my life and my heart)

He will not let your foot slip (he knows my weaknesses and he is working to protect me from them)
he who watches over you will not slumber (he never tires of loving me and knowing me)
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep. (in my most vulnerable moments of sleep, he is still on guard)

The Lord watches over you (because he is my Abba Father)
The Lord is your shade at your right hand (he never removes his grip. I pull away but he is still there)
The Sun will not harm you by day,
Nor the moon by night. (He is protecting me at all times)

The Lord will keep you from all harm (even harm of my doubts)
He will watch over your life. (every single aspect. big, small, insignificant or monumental)
The Lord will watch over your coming and going (my past and my future are in his hands)
both now and forevermore. (Trust him with my life, my dreams, my fears, my doubts)

So the confession was successful.  The forgiveness is the purpose; growing in knowledge of myself and Lord is the bonus.  And I remember this: the heart matters in all things.  He wants my heart beyond all numbering and counting and reciting the rules.  My heart which is in need of constant surrender to my Saviors perfect Will for my life.  Because only in trusting and following his plans, will my life ever have meaning or significance.

I lift my eyes to the mountains.  Where does my help come from? 
My help comes from the Lord.  The Maker of heaven and Earth. 
And the forgiver of my soul.  The keeper of my dreams.  The whisperer of Truth, and the Lover of my soul.  He has numbered the hairs on my head.  And he surely knows the path for my life. 
And gosh, he is Good.  He is so, so, Good to me. 

Kyrie Eleison

I am not a concert girl, but music is huge in my life.  Especially worship music.  As a teen and young adult, I attended churches with state of the art sound systems;  praising Jesus through the current chart topping hits seamlessly blended together with a traditional hymn here or there.

The atmosphere was concert like.  It was dark, the screens were lit, and hands all around me were lifted high in praise.  On the one hand, I loved being surrounded by people who obviously loved the gift of great worship, on the other, this introvert struggled to really feel at ease in the bigness and outward expression of it all. Yet those songs formed me then, and continue to do so today. 

Every now and then a song comes along that breaks through the routine and finds its way deep into my soul.  On those times, I long not for a concert with thousands of others, but solitude and privacy; my kitchen pantry usually the preferred location. 

Such was my experience when I came across a new song compiled by many of my favorite worship singer/ songwriters; Chris Tomlin, Matt Redman, and Matt Maher.  An ecumenical powerhouse of voices that proved in a simple song that the Church United is not just a dream, but can one day become reality.  This song, "Kyrie Eleison", (Lord, Have Mercy), brought me to my knees; in my pantry.  For three minutes the frustrations of our current wading in the Tiber and this hybrid state of Evangelical Catholicism fell away, and there was once again, simple Christians united for the sake of Worship. 

The song was modern, but the lyrics were ancient. The voices belonged to chart topping Christian artists, one Catholic, the others non denominational. And it was there in the blending of it all, that I broke down.

This wave of emotions has been swirling around in my head for years. With our backgrounds in non denominational churches, we have the privilege of understanding both sides of the Christian music world.  We see the beauty in Evangelical, lift your hands high worship, and the solid foundations of a great theologically sung hymn found in any Catholic parish.  However, our kids don't have this luxury.  And it weighs heavy on my heart that in only experiencing the hymnal driven worship, they may miss the passion and spirit that is readily available and on display at a less traditional church.

Now as a Mom, and a Catholic, I am constantly questioning whether it is more beneficial to surround oneself with theologically sound lyrics, or that of a simple repetitive melody that proclaims the love and goodness of God.  In the first case, (the traditional hymn), the lyrics could pass a doctrinal test, but are usually too complicated for a child (and many adults) to grasp during the song, let alone remember after the hymnal has been put away.  Yet they have withstood centuries of time, so they cannot, nor should not be easily dismissed and forgotten.

In the simple melody (or modern song of the moment), while the song might not necessarily be filled with complicated doctrines, they are often relatable, memorable, and find their way into daily thoughts throughout the week; reminding one at the most unexpected times, through a simple melody, that God is love.  And I believe because of these benefits, songs like this should be included in a greater number into the Mass. 

Considering all of this, Sundays can be tense with the longing to take a break from the hymnal and field trip my way to the best musically gifted church in the area.  However, it is halted by the conviction that in becoming Catholic, I have accepted that my desires should not dictate my church attendance. I'm not in charge.  Jesus is.  And I believe he desires me to come under the authority and guidance of his Bride, the Catholic Church.

The gift of song is from Him, to be used by us to lift our lives up to him.  And True worship, within the Church is found in no other complete form that that of kneeling before the Eucharistic Lord. No song (even if it makes me feel more alive) can bring me as close to Jesus as his very body within my own.

As we move forward, always learning how to live as Evangelical Catholics, and as effective parents, we try to appreciate the Sacred while the beauty of the new pours from the home speakers.

In Kyrie Eleison, I hear hope. I look forward to the day when all will sing in Heaven together and united. Until then, I'll be in my pantry.  In my dark, dimly lit, private concert arena, showing my kids that passion is alive and well right here in our own home. Quietly thanking Jesus for music, the artists, and all of the churches that praise him every single Sunday.

Kyrie Eleison. 

Lord, Have Mercy. 

Christ have Mercy. 

Lord, Have mercy on me, a desperate sinner in need of you and you alone.

The Rote Way to Pray

My attempt to embrace the Liturgy of the hours was a semi-fail.  It's a bit like deciding to run an Iron Man with the ability of a jazzercise participant.  Full of goodness and fertile ground for spiritual growth, but a lot to take on in the summer with kids home and unpredictable schedules.  So I learned and saw the benefit, but then gave myself the freedom to claim "defeat" and find a process more suitable for my life, right now. 

Specifically carving out intentional quiet time has been great for the ordering of my days. Even if I couldn't keep up with the Liturgy of the Hours didn't mean I was giving up altogether.  Because I wanted these times to be fruitful, planning how to pray instead of slowly dozing in and out of the mid afternoon snooze was important.  I longed for a prayer life that harvested a deeper knowledge of Christ.  But being the emotional personality that I am, sometimes my prayers centered too much around the mood of the day rather than the unchanging holiness of God.

Enter in the beauty of Rote prayer. That term can have negative connotations associated with it outside of the Catholic church. Rote prayers, to the unfamiliar Evangelical, seem like a bunch of repeated phrases that never coalesce into a heartfelt longing for God.

Yes, sometimes.  Rote can become formulaic, cold, and distant.  This is similar to the danger that spontaneous prayer can be controlled by emotion and circumstances rather than truth.  Yet in a heart that desires the will of the Lord, both forms can be powerful elements that deepen the interior life, and promote relationship and adoration of Christ.  Pope Benedict, in the book Jesus of Nazareth, states that our prayers,

"can and should be a wholly personal prayer.  But we also constantly need to make use of those prayers that express in words the encounter with God experienced both by the Church as a whole and by individual members of the Church.  For without these aids to prayer, our own praying and our image of God become subjective and end up reflecting ourselves more than the living God. In the formulaic  prayers that arose first from  the faith of Israel and then from the faith of praying members of the Church, we get to know God and ourselves well. They are a "school of prayer" that transforms and opens up our life."

So, I have entered into this "school of prayer," birthed through the written prayers of the Saints.  I have begun to experience a sense of communion with faithful believers who have walked with, known, and loved Jesus at different times in Christianity.  I am learning that to pray their words is to join my often feeble prayer to their intercessions.  The bounds set by time are erased and that glorious cloud of witnesses spoken of in Hebrews seems to be cheering me on in my life of faith.

And it has done wonders for my afternoon quiet times.  That time of the day when the brain energy of a mom has run it's course just in time for the kids to come running in; that time when the morning coffee has run dry and dinner is an endurance test away.  In these times, rote prayer has become a lifeline.  When I cannot think, my friends the Saints think for me.  When my soul knows the greatness of the Lord; but my head is too tired to contemplate on it's own, I am reminded by the Church triumphant that the Mighty One has done Great Things.  In reciting their words, I encounter Jesus in a new light that transforms and allows me to seem him clearer than I ever would have been able to on my own. 

A bit like taking a jazzercise class from a world class gold winning athlete; so too is our reciting the words of Holy men and women of Jesus.  For like St. Paul,  they have "fought the good fight, finished the race, and have kept the faith" (2 Tim 4:7)... and with that knowledge, I can't think of any better coaches to show me the way to the crown of righteousness. (vs 8).

The Little Flower's flower: part 2

I have faith that prayers are heard and God is always working his plan for our good.  In praying "Thy Will be done," the Lord's prayer has been a particuarily helpful tool in training my mind to trust in this Goodness.

But sometimes, if I'm honest,  I would admit I worry whether some requests have been heard or have drifted off into some sort of prayer grave yard.  Especially if the prayers do not have decisive, timely answers. 

Recently, I've had a specific request on my heart that continues to surface.  I have asked that if it not be his Will, the desire would extinguish. Currently it remains strong.  So in my new found learnings of St. Therese, I knew that she would be the ideal Saint to intercede for me in taking this request to the Lord.

A few weeks ago I heard an inspiring story about an encounter with Saint Therese and her desire to give roses as a sign of her prayers.  She is known for sending flowers to those who request her intercession; giving her the name, the Little Flower. 

I was impressed with the story but unsure if she would do the same for me.  (Remember her and I didn't hit things off with a running start).  Would she find me undeserving of a heavenly rose because of my harsh critiques of her Story?  Would my request for prayers go unheard?

Nevertheless.. I found a  Novena (multi day prayer) to St. Therese in my Laudate phone app. I decided I couldn't lose in reciting the prayer.   Worst case scenario, I would have said more prayers than originally planned.. and who was ever harmed by praying more?

The Novena is five days long, and includes a request that St. Therese, "send a flower from the heavenly garden and send it to me with a message of love.  Ask God to grant me the favor I thee implore, and tell him I will love him each day more and more."  Simple.. yet daring (in my mind) to ask for so bold of a sign. 

Upon day five, Sunday, I woke up and prayed before Mass.  My prayer being not that the request would be fully answered but rather I would receive a sign (a rose in some form), giving me peace that St. Therese had indeed taken my prayer to the Lord.. that it was being raised before him as bowls of incense.  (Rev. 8:4).  I approached the day with hopeful, humble expectation.

Our priest gave a homily in which we could tell that the Holy Spirit had written.  The wedding at Cana was the Gospel. He shared how the marriages of those around us were to be viewed as gifts for the whole church; as Jesus's marriage to the church was for everyone. 

One such marriage was that in which an older man had loved his wife so greatly that when she passed away, he would daily take a rose and place it upon her grave; signaling his great love for her.  My ears perked up at the word rose but I still wasn't convinced it was my heavenly rose...

Until the priest, as the Holy Spirit seemed to be ramping up his voice within him, turned to where I was sitting and stated plainly... This man's gift of a rose is a gift for all of you.  Jesus, himself wants to give you a rose, right now from heaven, Today. 

I could not help smiling... I knew that was it.  It's January.. talk of roses is not popular.  The wedding at Cana is one of my favorite passages in the whole Gospel.  My priest had no idea that in discussing six seemingly random marriages during his homily, one of them would be so much more than an example of great love for my heart.  But it gets better. 

After Mass, there was a voice in my head that I couldn't ignore.  It encouraged me to email him and share with him my thanks and appreciation for his words and my answer to prayer. 

His email back was quick and amazed me.  He stated, "Thanks,... the funny thing is that I gave that same homily at the previous Masses and didn't mention heaven giving us a rose.  Then at 9am I looked at the Therese alcove and was overwhelmed.  I consciously knew that the Lord wanted to give someone a rose at that moment.  I knew it was happening as I spoke, even though I didn't know you were the one!" 

Just call my spiritual socks knocked off.

I know now there's no graveyard for prayers.  They reach the throne, of that I am sure.  Sweet St. Therese blessed me yesterday and allowed me to experience the amazing Love of God, despite my faults and my questions and my doubts. 

In the life of prayer, faith is called to guide our hearts.  It is rare when we have clear confirmations of our hearts request.  For God knows that we cannot be addicted to magnificent signs like a child is to candy. We would get a spiritual sweet tooth and our faith would suffer. But he does allow moments of reprieve.  Moments when Heaven breaks free and we see through the mirror a bit clearer.  Moments when he speaks to our hearts and allows us to see him, if only for a brief moment, face to face. (1 Corinthians 13:12). 

My heart was touched by the Little Flower, and I can now state with confidence that in meeting Therese I have met love.  It was undeserved and at times misunderstood, but she gave it anyway.  In receiving the Little Flower's flower, I have an increased confidence in the power of prayer, and in the beauty of the heavenly garden.  I have no doubt that it is overflowing with gifts just waiting to be showered upon earth. All we have to do is ask. 

The Little Flower's Flower: Part 1

St. Therese and I didn't hit it off right away.  Many people love her and look to her as their patron Saint, but truth be told...her Story of a Soul didn't stir mine.  I related to the Oxford taught, academic prowess of Cardinal Newman, and the pipe smoking, (I assume), moving classics of C.S. Lewis, and Tolkein.  The sweet cloistered nun out of France seemed too far out of my interest. 

And it started to bother me.  So many of my friends love her that I felt guilty for not understanding. Why could I not relate to the girl who passionately loved Jesus?  I began Googling any search terms I could conjure up to possibly, hopefully, find someone who thought like me. (I couldn't).  Did no one else find her childhood stories too whiny for spiritual nourishment?  Did everyone (but me) relate to her total detachment from society mentality? Why did she write as though interactions with humans were a burden?  My world directly depended on my involvement with society; kids, school; friends, soccer practice; late nights and tired mornings.  How would a stay at home mom with four kids ever become friends with cloistered Carmelite Nun?

In our church we have alcoves with large stained glass windows, each highlighting a different Saint.  Saint Therese stands in one of these, the glass etched with multiple cascading roses. It's also the alcove in which confessions are made.  Imagine giving a confession while staring at the Saint that largely makes you feel like a Catholic outsider.   Then one night as I sat looking at her, receiving God's forgiveness, and words of wisdom from my favorite priest, (who happens to have a strong devotion to St. Therese),  I realized that perhaps I had misunderstood her; perhaps I had expected perfection when instead she was giving an honest account of her life: failures and all.  Perhaps, now in heaven, she would be willing to share her story in a way in which I could understand, if I was willing to try.

I went back to complete her Story of a Soul; to gain greater insight.  Full disclosure; I will probably have to read it many more times.  The writing is somewhat jumbled and it doesn't read as a straightforward biography. And it's not the type of writing that stirs me... but that doesn't make it bad.  After a lot of prayer, I began to see that her theology is, in fact, profound.  Her "Little Way," of doing small things with great Love, is a deep Christian truth.  Becoming a trusting child in the eyes of God, realizing that even insignificant acts could be done out of great love for the Lord. Keeping in mind Matthew 18:3, "Truly I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

I began to absorb her wisdom slowly, but was still regretting our rocky start. Would Saint Therese want a friend who was skeptical?  Would she rather keep to the kind hearted, gentle Christ followers who openly accepted her ideas and quickly loved her back? If it is true that the Saints can and do intercede for us at the throne of God (Revelation 8:4 and Hebrews 12:1) then I had to make peace with my theological Saint frustrations.  (Oh how God takes our lives in funny directions sometimes!). 

That peace was recently given when her mission to "spend her eternity in heaven doing good on earth" was shared with me in a personal way.  It was then that I  realized her pledge was not a fanciful wish but rather a solemn promise... even to the skeptic.

The Magnificat Gift

A homiletic challenge has become joy for my soul.  Pray the Magnificat.

The responsorial hymn of worship to an unimaginable gift. The Holy Spirit had overcome a lowly handmade and she had conceived the Savior.  Unto her a child was to be born, and unto us all a Son was given. The Wonderful Counselor had come through a womb. Mary; full of Grace and praise. 

The gift of Mary's Magnificat is not meant to remain static words bound to a page.  Rather her prayer is to become our prayer; her praise, our praise. Her gift, a Son, gifted for the whole world. 

The Mighty One has done great things for us all, and Holy is his Name. 

For all generations who follow the Lord will be called Blessed.  Lives of resounding grace that illumine mankind to the very heart of their Creator. 

To pray the Magnificat is to pray alongside she who held and caressed the very face of God; to in turn behold his face in our hearts.  It is to lift up our lowly souls to that heavenly glory which is our inheritance in Christ Jesus. It is to set aside our circumstances of the moment and praise Him, knowing that nothing is impossible with God.

The Magnificat is a gift that was meant to be opened, shared, and given away.  Just as the Savior in whom it proclaims.

My Soul Magnifies the Lord

My Spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

For he has looked upon his handmaids lowliness;

Behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.

The Mighty One has done great things for me,

and Holy is his Name.

His mercy is from age to age 

to those who fear him.

He has shown might with his arm,

dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.

He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones

but lifted up the lowly.

The hungry he has filled with good things,

The rich he has sent away empty.

He has helped Israel his servant,

remembering his mercy,

according to his promise to our Fathers,

to Abraham and his descendants forever.

Luke 1:46 - 55

If you don't want to take my word for it.. listen to Catholic singer, songwriter... Matt Maher.  His song Great Things is one of my favorites, and a direct result of him internalizing the Magnificat. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOWP2AXHG1k