Miracles of Newtown

The night before last the parents of 7 year old, Grace McDonnell, asked to be interviewed so they could share the wonder of their little girl with the rest of the world. They astonished and amazed me, truly amazed me. I could not believe how composed they were. I could not believe how accepting they seemed to be of their new painful reality - life without their little girl. Grace sounded like a remarkable, amazing child and they certainly appeared to be marvelous, loving, remarkable parents. When they, along with their son, went to say their last good-byes to little Grace, they brought a stack of colorful markers with them. Grace loved art so before they left her, they had filled her little white coffin with beautiful vibrant pictures. I was glued to the TV set and as I watched them and listened to them, I said to myself, this seems like some kind of miracle. What else could it be? Then I thought about their daughter's name being "Grace" and I realized she was named appropriately. It was definitely amazing Grace. Honestly, what else could it be? Tonight I listened to the father of a 6 year old little boy, Jesse Lewis. His story pierced my heart. I was sobbing. His little boy told him that he wanted this to be the best Christmas ever. I cannot remember all the things he said, it was truthfully too painful to hear. But what he said at the end of the short interview made me realize that this too was amazing grace or some sort of miracle. He said he wanted to express his sorrow and offer his condolences to all the other families who lost loved ones including Adam Lanza's father and brother. He added that he realized they were suffering just like he was and they weren't to blame for what Adam did. Can you imagine having this presence of mind, this dignity and strength when you, yourself are in such excruciating agony? It seems like nothing short of a miracle to me.

What a Book! Finally something that makes sense to me.

The following information regarding the crucifixion was taken from a book entitled, “Repair My House – becoming a Kindom Catholic” written by Michael H. Crosby (Michael H. Crosby is a Capuchin Franciscan with degrees in economics and New Testament spirituality.)    Regarding the title, Repair My House” – St. Francis of Assisi heard this instruction from a crucifix in a ruined chapel, inspiring his radical mission of church renewal.   Bob and I were blessed to see Assisi and this crucifix when we traveled to Italy a year ago (October 20110).

Taken from page 11 & 12 

“………at a deeper theological level, the form of child abuse that is too often actually promoted has been part of our mindset for centuries.  This refers to the soteriology (salvation story) that it was “God the Father’s will that Jesus, His only Son, die on the cross in order to save us from our sins.”  In other words, God the Father willed that Jesus be killed as the way God decided could be the only way to bring about atonement for humanity’s sins.   This is child abuse, by any definition.  It is just less violent to say that God willed Jesus to die than to say God wanted Jesus to be killed.  Interpreted literally, this would make God at least complicit in child abuse, the murder of “His own Son,” for in Catholic theology to will the sin to occur is to be guilty of it as much as the one who makes it happen.   Furthermore, for such a killing, God would have to have willed that those doing the killing violate God’s own revelation as found in the Fifth Commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.”  Again, God would be guilty of breaking God’s own commandment.

I am happy to belong to the Franciscan tradition for many reasons, but one of them involves the rejection of such a “theological” notion.  Indeed, Blessed John Duns Scotus taught that God, being unconditioned by anything (or anyone) but love, could “only come to earth” for one reason: to manifest that love.  Therefore the reason for the incarnation was not the sin of humans but God’s love. The death of Jesus was the inevitable consequence of that love, but never willed by God. “

The sentences below are paraphrased from pages 94 and 137:

It was the evangelical radicalism of the message of Jesus which led him to be crucified as subversive to the imperial household (i.e., the Roman Empire).   

There is also an understanding expressed that there was no necessary reason for God to come to earth except love that is unconditional.

The Sense of Loss

Our World is in mourning this weekend.  The tragic events that took place on Friday morning are  unimaginable.  It's feels like a horrendous nightmare but one from which I can't seem to wake up.    How could six staff members and twenty little children (6 and 7 year olds) be shot dead in their classrooms at an elementary school in such a bucolic, peaceful town?  Even the school's name makes it sound safe - Sandy Hook Elementary - grades K through 4.    Today, I stare more intently at my 7 year old grandson and hug him tighter and longer and my heart breaks for those parents and grandparents who can't do the same.
I'm feeling such pain and then I think of them and the unbearable, unspeakable, everlasting pain experienced by those who lose their own.

The following poem was written by Sister M. Rosina, IHM (The Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary), great aunt of Rita Mary O'Donnell Fries. 
This poem was written after Sister M. Rosina observed the children of Margaret (Coleman) and TJ O'Donnell playfully reenacting their grandmother's funeral when one of Anna Rose's dolls lost its head.

 I know that Rita's dolls are well,

And each one dressed just like a belle;

Maureen informs me she has five,

And Dorothy has three alive.

But poor dear little Anna Rose!

Her heart is filled with grief and woes;

Her only dolly broke its head,

And Doctor Dot said it was dead. 

They called the undertaker in;

He brought a coffin lined with tin;

With cambric crepe and fair field flowers,

They mourned the doll for two straight hours.

Miss Rita sent the "Gates Ajar"

Maureen, an anchor: Dot a star;

But sympathetic Baby Joe

Cried more than all the rest, I know.

At half past three the bell was tolled

And in a grave both deep and cold

They placed the doll that fair June day,

Then gaily scampered back to play.

But one alone refused to leave

And lingered by the grave to grieve.

I vainly tried to tell her why

"Tis wrong to mourn when dollies die.

She raised her tear-stained face and sighed,

"I know but it was mine that died."

God comfort little Anna Rose.

Dear heart! She'll learn where'er she goes,

That lasting grief is seldom known

Except to those who lose their own.

 

Within My Heart

This little song was written in March 1994 in honor of a tiny little child named Joseph Adam.  I think of him now as the sweet "December Child" (December 2nd - December 26th 1993).
Today when I think of him, I also remember another little "December Child".  His name is Joseph too.  My baby brother, Joseph O'Donnell Fries, was born and died on Dec. 11th 1956.
Sadness can be overwhelming.
But both Josephs live forever within our hearts.
And today, on the occasion of my Aunt Anne R. O'Donnell's 92nd birthday,  ( Dec. 10, 1920 - Oct. 7, 1994) I also remember the tears she shed when she heard us sing, "Within My Heart". 
She said that the verse in the song:

"Then, when my time on earth must end, I'll have no fear, I'll have my friend.  The one I love will be with me now and through eternity.  The love that started one spring day will never die or go away..."

made her think of her sister, Dot (Dorothy Regina O'Donnell) who died on June 2nd, 1942 at the age of 22.
Dot was born on Dec. 7th 1919 and Anne was born one year later on Dec. 10, 1920.  They were very close and the best of pals and Anne believed that she would see her beloved sister and dearest friend, Dot, when her time on earth was over.  We had no idea her time on earth would be over later that year.  But it gave me comfort to think that somehow, some way she had her friend, Dot, to meet and embrace her. 
And today I hope and pray and like to believe that they are celebrating their December birthdays together.

Within My Heart

Music: composed by Joseph Carrick

Lyrics: written by Mary Beth Buchner

Copyright: March 1, 1994

Chorus:

You’re here with me,

Within my heart

And there you’ll stay

Your spirit lives inside of me

This part of you will always be

And when I see the sun arise

You’ll see it too

You’ll use my eyes

You’ll use my feet to do your dance

I promise you, you’ll have your chance

You’ll sing your song

You’ll have your day

I’ll never let you go away

I’ll keep your warm and safe and sound

Within my heart

Chorus:

You’re here with me,

Within my heart

And there you’ll stay

Your spirit lives inside of me

This part of you will always be

You’ll build a castle in the sand

You’ll shape its’ form

You’ll use my hands

You’ll run though snow that looks like lace

My ice cream cone’s for you to taste

And when my life is dark and blue

I’ll look inside

And I’ll find you

You’ll put a smile upon my face

You’ll be the breath of peace and grace that sees me though

Chorus (music only)

And as I walk down through the years,

Throughout my life,

The laughs, the tears,

The joy and pain that’s filled my heart

You’ll be there still

You always will

Within my heart

 

Then, when my time on earth must end

I’ll have no fear,

I’ll have my friend

The one I love will be with me

Now and through eternity

The love that started one spring day

Will never die or go away

I’ll keep you warm and safe and sound

I’ll hug you close and feel you here

I’ll keep you warm and safe and sound

Within my Heart

"Today I Met the Boy I'm Gonna Marry"

That fateful night, the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving in 1969, I walked into the Desert Inn (located along the Van Wcyk Expressway in Queens, NY), promptly made my way up to the bar and ordered a drink.    I wanted a little alcohol in my system to help me relax and I needed an activity -something to hold in my hands – since I had arrived early and was there completely alone.   Even though I was almost 25 years old and I had been to this type of” boy meets girl” establishment on my own several times before, I still wasn’t very comfortable with the idea.    So I purchased my cocktail and returned to the periphery on the sidelines of the dance floor.   Although I felt a bit intimidated standing there by myself, nonetheless, that particular night, I do remember feeling rather secure in my appearance.  I was clean and fresh and sprayed with some of my favorite perfume (Estee Lauder’s Youth Dew), I had spent time fixing my hair and I was wearing low-lying hip-hugger pants with a wide belt and bell bottoms and a dark, form-fitting, high neck, long sleeve knit sweater.    (See, I told you I remembered!)   Being a nurse in the Pediatric ICU at Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn, I was scheduled to work the next morning and didn’t want to be out too late.  Therefore I told my two girlfriends I would drive my own car – an old Studebaker – affectionately named “the little gray mouse” and meet them there.    

So there I stood wondering what the heck do I do now.     Before I had a lot of time to fret, I noticed that two guys, a few yards in front of me, kept turning around and looking me over.   Anyone who came of age in the 60’s probably knows this typical “pick up place” routine.   Both guys were nicely dressed and rather attractive – I had gotten a glimpse of their faces as they looked back and forth at me and conferred with each other.  I remember thinking that both fellows were rather nice looking and I wouldn’t have minded if either one approached me.   Eventually, Walter came over and asked me if he could buy me a drink – another typical move in the “pick up place” routine.   I wasn’t a big drinker but I said “yes” because this was part of the usual protocol and I didn’t want to miss out on anything.    I nursed the drink; we sat at a table and talked for awhile and we danced a few times.    After awhile, he walked me over to his group of friends and introduced me to them.    The guy who had been standing with Walter earlier in the evening was Bob.    Bob was quite a talkative fellow and he asked me several questions about myself.   I guess Walter decided our conversation was a little too animated and was going on a little too long and I remember he put a stop to it by saying to Bob, What is this, an interview?  As Walter grabbed a hold of my hand and led me away, I remember thinking to myself,  I really like that guy’s voice.  There is something really nice about that guy.   On some level, just like the words of an old song, I think I knew “ Today I Met the Boy I’m Gonna Marry. "

Here are the Lyrics of this cute old song (circa 1963):

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry
He's all I wanted all my life and even more
He smiled at me and the music started playing
Here comes the bride when he walked through the door
Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry
The boy who's life and dreams and love I wanna share
The boy whose on my hand a band of gold will bear
The band of gold I always dreamed I'd wear
When we kissed I felt a sweet sensation
This time it wasn't just my imagination
Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry
He's just what I've been waiting for oh yes
With every kiss it's as if my heart keeps saying
Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

Mary Beth & Fr. Tom Burns in Maryknoll, Sept 2012

An "old" friend from my youth is working to empower the poor in Lina, Peru. 

Here is a direct link to a short video describing part of Father Tomas Burns' work:
 http://www.maryknollsociety.org/index.php/multimedia?vid=76

PS.  Money donations are always helpful and most welcomed.  I'll be glad to tell you how to help.  

Rita Mary Agnes O'Donnell Fries

Today is the day that my mother left this earth for places unknown.   She always loved an adventure so I feel she is happy and smiling.  I also believe that her spirit is still with the people she loved so well on this earth.  Rita Mary O’Donnell was born on March 25, 1917 to Margaret Coleman O’Donnell  and Thomas Joseph (TJ) O’Donnell .  She was Margaret and TJ’s first child and as you can see from the fancy-dancy photo, they thought she was pretty special.  

I just returned from the Siena College Chapel.  My Dad and I went to the 12:35 PM Mass in honor of my mother.  I remembered one other time when, as an adult, I sat between my mother and father at Mass and I felt grateful to have both my parents with me.   I felt sad for those people who lose their parents at an early age.   Today I imagined my mother on the other side of me and it warmed me to sense her there.

I thought about some of the many things my mother gave me and I decided to share a few of these memories with her family.

• Rita loved to go to “the country” especially in June.  Her grandmother, Hannah Byrne Coleman, had a home in Friendsville, Pa. and her mother, Margaret Coleman O’Donnell, would spend summers there with her children.     Rita’s father, T.J. O’Donnell, was a NYC Policeman; he would drive his wife, Margaret, and his kids up to the country at the beginning of the summer and come back at the end of the summer to bring them back to Brooklyn.  Rita and her siblings loved their time in this little tiny hamlet of Friendsville (Friendsville was a Stage Coach Stop in times gone by) and a house nearby (Aunt Bridge’s Farm) in St. Joseph’s Pa. was a part of the Underground Railroad for run-away slaves).    Her father, TJ, referred to the area as “God’s Country” and the “Garden Spot of America”.    It was and still is a beautiful place.
• Rita went to her senior prom (Girl’s High School) with a guy she had a crush on by the name of Johnny Ryan.   But seated at the same table at the prom was the brother of her friend, Rosemary Fries.   This was apparently the first time she laid eyes on her future husband, Charles A. Fries.    She told me that she eventually attended parties at Rosemary’s home on Vermont St (aka Interboro Parkway and Jackie Robinson Parkway) and she had a difficult time getting Charlie up out of his basement where he liked to tinker with radios and electronics.    Eventually she got Charlie to notice her – it had something to do with a game where you would shine a light on the person you liked (a form of spin the bottle).
• Rita spoke very highly of “making love”- in fact her “birds and bees” discussion with me, her eldest daughter, was so very ethereal that I finally had to ask her, “Mom, does skin have to touch skin?   I was glad she “liked sex” as her thoughts and feelings helped to counter balance the message about sex that I picked up in Catholic School which was foreboding and frightening.
• I never heard Rita complain about childbirth.  She seemed to love having children.  She encouraged creative play and didn’t seem to care that the house was getting all messed up in the process.   I remember painting snow scenes on the kitchen windows, baking cookies, throwing blankets and sheets over the dining room table in order to create the neatest tent house underneath, digging up the backyard to make a swimming pool or building cars and boats out of leftover pieces of wood.   I remember her welcoming all the neighborhood kids to play at our house.    I also remember her inviting “the world” to have dinner at her table.
• Rita liked to write but just like me she was always trying to finish something.   She was very smart and as an adult attended Queens College (until she fell at the college and smashed her kneecap).  For one of her classes she wrote a term paper about a stimulant drug called “Peyote” that was far superior to most other term papers I have ever read including my own.
• Rita also was an amazing genealogy researcher.  I only wish I had half her talent in that area.  She wanted her family to know about the people who came before them.   Many of you may remember her push to have everyone in the family attend the “Curley Reunion” held in Friendsville, Pa in 1989. Sadly, she died before the Curley Reunion that was held 10 years later.   I know she was the force and spirit behind the 2008 O’Donnell Reunion and I know she would want me to share her stories with you.   
• Rita didn’t much care for sewing or cleaning house. 
• She made the best apple pies I have ever tasted.
• She enjoyed a good cocktail once in awhile.
• She loved to go out to dinner.   One day near the sea she had a Lobster.
• She dearly loved her family and her heart broke and never completely recovered when her “baby” brother was killed on Heartbreak Ridge in Korea.
• She wanted to go to Ireland in the worse way.
• She wanted to learn to drive a car.
• As far as I was concerned she was a better Catholic than any of the ordained clergy.
• She often told me that when she looked around at other women’s husbands, she always came to the same conclusion; she would never trade her husband for any of them.