It is also a natural time for reflection on what has happened during the past year and what we look forward to in the coming one. In this issue, we try to do the same thing—to look at where we are, with all its challenges, and to help move ahead into the new year.

In her article “Health-Care Heroes: New York City Nurses,” author Rita E. Piro highlights two nurses and a chaplain who were on the front lines of the COVID-19 crisis this past year and how their faith helped them get through. My article “A COVID-19 Christmas” provides suggestions for families on how to celebrate Advent and Christmas in a different way because of the pandemic. On the other end of the season, in “Praying on Paper,” author Terry Hershey encourages us to take some time to reflect on and process our thoughts and feelings through the act of journaling.

This has been a difficult year, for sure. But in the birth of Christ, we celebrate the arrival of the hope we long for right now. All of us at Franciscan Media wish you a very blessed Christmas and New Year.

A pair of nurses explain how their faith helped them cope with the unique challenges of caring for COVID-19 patients in New York City.

As the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic took hold around the world, health-care workers became international heroes. Pope Francis called them “the saints next door.” Videos featuring them in circumstances ranging from deeply tragic to profoundly inspirational appeared all over the media. Military fighter jets did flyovers of hospitals in their honor. Politicians, royalty, and celebrities stood shoulder to shoulder with regular citizens nightly in neighborhoods, applauding and cheering them on.

Nurses in particular were singled out for praise, and rightly so. All across our nation, nurses did not hesitate to answer the clarion call to serve, to be and bring Jesus to the suffering, despite the danger to their own lives as well as to those of their loved ones. Working alongside nurses, hospital chaplains responded to the spiritual needs of patients with grace and courage.

Two nurses share their stories from the front lines of the pandemic.

Nurse Anna Pedote says: “I remember one COVID patient I was caring for telling me he couldn’t breathe. I immediately told him to lie on his stomach and proceeded to cup and clap his back for what seemed like an eternity. When he started feeling better and his blood oxygen level increased, I was able to stop for a few moments—until I realized I had eight more patients just like him that needed my attention. There was never enough of me to go around.” Pedote, an emergency room nurse for 16 years, continues, “I became a nurse to help people, to ease their suffering, but COVID-19 just would not let me.”

All the city’s health-care workers were hailed as heroes, but none more so than the thousands of hospital nurses who became the front line for the COVID-19 war starting in late February. Recalls Pedote: “The plan that was put in place was to have the nurses screen patients. If they met the COVID-19 criteria—fever, shortness of breath, cough—we would give them a mask, place a mask on ourselves as well, and escort them to an isolation room. The nurse would then don personal protective equipment and go into the isolation room. Most contact with physicians was done via telephone. We, the nurses, were the ones with the patient the whole time. If patients were negative, they would go home. If not, the CDC [Centers for Disease Control] was called for further instructions.”

New York City, the Big Apple, the City That Never Sleeps, started to shut down. Remembers Pedote: “Airports, train stations, businesses, and schools were all closing. It seemed as if overnight my hospital became like a MASH unit. There were patients in beds and on gurneys everywhere, including in our cafeteria. A tent had been set up outside the ER for less seriously ill patients. We had nurses from every unit flowing into the ER to help us.

“Nurses from other hospitals around the city—and eventually the nation—were brought in to help. The patients we saw would go from bad to worse and sometimes to dying in just a matter of hours. It was a full-time job just to keep replenishing oxygen tanks.”

This same scenario played out daily in Pedote’s life for months, and she could not help but be affected. “I would come home late at night crying. It was impossible to decompress, to sleep more than just a short time. I know that it was only God who gave me the strength to continue. I would pray every morning before going in that God would be with me and give me what I needed to get through another day, to help me help these very sick people.”

It was only normal that Pedote was afraid to be around so many sick patients, but she never hesitated to return every day to the ER. “That’s my job, and it’s what I do and what I want to do,” she says. “The worst part for me was that no one really wanted to be around me. Friends, family were all afraid. I totally understand, but that was hard.”

“We received our first positive patient in mid-March,” remembers Lea Vischio, a labor and delivery nurse in New York City for 35 years. “She was in labor with mild COVID-19 symptoms. I held up her baby from across the room so she could see, then transferred the baby to the nursery. Mom and baby were only united upon discharge days later.” A mother of three herself, Vischio could empathize with the new mother’s suffering. “She was not able to hold, hug, or kiss her newborn. It was the complete opposite of what’s usually done after a birth. I could feel the emotional pain this first-time mother was experiencing. COVID-19 turned something that should be so beautiful into something so cruel and unnatural.”

While the COVID-19 virus hit different parts of New York City to varying degrees, every hospital was over capacity. Hospitals were limited to only patients and employees. “I realized this was going to be something serious when they started to ban visitors,” recalls Vischio. “Every floor had become a COVID floor, and units were closed off from traffic. You weren’t allowed to be on a unit unless you worked there, no matter who you were.”

For Vischio, COVID-19 became a battle on both the work front and the home front. On March 27, while working at the hospital, she received a call from her sister that they were bringing their father to the emergency room because he was having trouble breathing.

“When my father was brought to the ER, I did not suspect COVID-19,” she recalls. “He hadn’t been exhibiting any symptoms, and I just thought, at 86 years old, he was experiencing another bout of congestive heart failure. I wasn’t allowed into the ER but was able to find out that he had indeed tested positive for COVID-19. Later that evening after my shift, I was able to secure permission to see him. I had to put on full PPE [personal protective equipment] and was allowed only a few minutes with him. Leaving him that night was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. Not being able to be with him or even involved with his care was and still is extremely difficult for me to come to terms with.”

Her father declined rapidly, succumbing to COVID-19 only three days later, leaving Vischio and her family bereft with little ability to take comfort in their treasured faith rituals. All the Roman Catholic dioceses had ordered their churches and cemeteries closed; the deceased were being housed by undertakers in special refrigerated trucks or warehouses for weeks before they could be dealt with properly.

“Being a devout Catholic family, it was and still is awful not having been able to grieve in our traditional way,” reflects Vischio. “My father was a founding pillar of our parish and community. There was no wake where we could share hugs and stories and memories with friends and family. There was no spiritual closure from having the Mass of Christian Burial in the manner in which we knew.”

Vischio’s situation grew worse when, five days after her father’s death, she herself exhibited symptoms of COVID-19. “I got swabbed and I was positive, although I never really had any doubt. I locked myself in my room, and my husband would leave food at the door.”

Other family members, including her mother and sister, who had been exposed to her father prior to his hospitalization, also contracted the virus, though Vischio experienced the most serious case. “There were some benefits to being a nurse and having COVID-19,” she says. “I was able to monitor my vital signs, oxygen saturation, and perform breathing exercises. But it also proved to be very anxiety-provoking. There was the constant fear of your condition worsening and, of course, the possibility of ending up on a ventilator. While I did have some serious moments that brought me to the very hospital in which I worked for my own treatment, I was able to avoid the ventilator. “

She smiles as she remembers: “I also knew there were lots of prayers being said for my recovery. I have a cousin, Rev. Nick Mormando, OFM Cap, at the Franciscan Friary of St. Pio in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and I think he had every province praying for me. You cannot imagine how comforting it is to know that people are praying for you.”

Carrying Out the Mission of Christ

The COVID-19 experiences of these two nurses are a microcosm of what the vast majority of the nation’s nearly 3 million registered nurses had to face as the deadly virus marched across the United States, filling hospitals coast to coast and border to border. Confirmed US cases swelled to over 7 million by the end of September, with more than 205,000 deaths attributed to the virus. The same scenes of the frantic fight between life and death that first appeared in New York City hospitals reappeared state by state, city by city, town by town, as the epicenter of the virus changed frequently.

Talk of a COVID-19 vaccine is heartening, but many variables and questions remain. Today, Pedote and Vischio are working under more normal circumstances than during the period from March to August. Pedote can still see every patient by whose side she stood as she provided them with treatment, or held their hand as they gasped for air, or who asked her to call their family or say a prayer with them. Vischio thanks God every day for bringing her through her own battle with COVID-19 and waits for the day in 2021 when she and her family can have their father’s funeral Mass and give him the send-off he deserves.

New front lines of nurses and other health-care workers queue up every day, ready to engage in and bear witness to the mission of Jesus the healer. “You are an image of the Church as a ‘field hospital’ that continues to carry out the mission of Jesus Christ, who drew near to and healed people with all kinds of sickness and who stooped down to wash the feet of his disciples,” says Pope Francis. “Let us pray for nurses.”

Her husband, John, says of that time: “My greatest concern was that her personal life and professional life were colliding. She barely had a moment to realize what happened to her father when she became infected herself. There was no room to breathe, emotionally or physically.” Also pictured is the couple’s youngest child, Adam Angelo, 27, named in honor of his grandfather.

New York Stats

With nearly 489,000 confirmed cases of COVID-19 and more than 32,900 deaths tallied by October, New York City has been the nation’s hardest hit location. Fatalities from the virus rose to 800 per day during April and May. Its high rate of transmission overwhelmed the state’s health-care facilities, both public and private, and the city’s 200-plus hospitals and urgent care centers quickly overflowed with seriously ill patients of all demographics.

The hospital ship USN Comfort was dispatched to the New York City waterfront, convention centers were converted into hospitals, and hotels and state university dormitories were outfitted for less serious cases. Samaritan’s Purse, a nondenominational Christian organization providing spiritual and physical aid to the sick around the world, set up a 14-tent, 68-bed field hospital in the city’s famed Central Park, just across from Mt. Sinai Hospital Center.

Sister Preenika Dabrera, CSJ, Pastoral Minister

A member of the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph, Brentwood, New York, Sister Preenika Dabrera, CSJ, works as a pastoral care minister at St. Catherine of Siena Medical Center, a Catholic hospital on Long Island. By the time COVID-19 arrived in New York in early March, Sister Preenika was already aware of the devastating virus from conversations with her family in Sri Lanka.

“My family knew of the virus much earlier than we did, and they kept warning us here to expect much devastation,” she says. “That was in January, and by the end of February they canceled their plans to come visit me, but here in America we were still going about our lives in the normal way.”

In her normal routine as a chaplain, Sister Preenika would provide the spiritual component of the healing process to both patients and their families. Every day, she freely visited patients, offering spiritual direction, counseling, prayer, conversation, the Eucharist, and often just a hand to hold.

That all changed when COVID-19 arrived. “We could no longer see the patients or walk through the units. Every floor was limited to just the doctors and nurses who worked on that unit,” explains Sister Preenika. “The nursing home next to the hospital was completely sealed off to volunteers and visitors.” As the hospital filled with seriously ill patients, she and the other ministerial staff were prohibited from actually being with patients. “We had to minister to the patients over the phone,” she says.

“The nurses were so good about staying with the patient, holding the phone so they could see or hear us as we prayed with the patient or spoke with them. When someone needed anointing, the priest was only allowed to stand by the door and say the prayers, and the nurses would wheel the patient’s bed as close to the door as possible.”

Such a deviation from the intimate, personal nature of pastoral care was difficult. “I found it very upsetting,” says Sister Preenika. “It was so hard to try to comfort patients over the phone, and it was difficult to end the calls.” Dealing with such serious sickness, stress, and sorrow every minute of the day had a profound impact upon Sister Preenika. The community of sisters with whom she lived provided the support she needed to continue serving the needs of the hundreds of seriously ill patients.

“The sisters were there for me every day. Without hearing patients’ personal or family info, they listened to my stories of the patients, and they held each of them in prayer. We did little fun activities together. When we watched movies together, they made sure to choose films without violence or hospitals. They made my favorite foods to cheer me up. And we ate lots of ice cream,” she laughs.

“They also gave me lots of space to stay in silence and pray so I could renew my spirit and energy. I appreciated that because I needed time alone to process the hard things patients, family, and staff shared with me.”

Though today Sister Preenika is engaged in more of the usual ministry activities she enjoyed before COVID-19, she will always remember all those whom God brought to her to touch.

“I will forever hold in prayer every patient and family with whom I spoke and prayed and comforted,” she says softly.

In the midst of these uncertain times, here are five ways to rethink your Advent and Christmas season.

For most of us, December 1 is the starting line for the mad dash through the Christmas season toward the finish line that is Christmas Day. For some people, that race starts even earlier. But, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic, that race might be put on hold for now. Or, at least it will take a different course.

Family celebrations may be held on Zoom. Presents may be shipped rather than personally delivered. Midnight Mass may be celebrated in front of a computer screen rather than gathered in your parish church.

Yes, Christmas might be a little bit different this year, but that doesn’t mean we have to lose the spirit or meaning of the season. Luckily, the reason we celebrate is a timeless story that will help carry us through any obstacles we may face.

If we think about it, the very first Christmas took place in the midst of chaos. Mary, a young girl, found herself with child. Joseph, her fianc é, was faced with the reality and life-changing implications of the situation. They had to leave their home and travel miles, only to be turned away when trying to find shelter. Eventually, they welcomed their son in a manger filled with hay and animals.

If that doesn’t sound unsettling, I don’t know what does. But, despite all that, it ended up being a great blessing for us.

Perhaps, then, we should look upon the challenges of this year as an opportunity to once again embrace the spirit and joy of Christ’s birth. And while such a celebration may not look as it has for us in recent years, there are things we can do to embrace the spirit of the Advent and Christmas season. Here are five suggestions for celebrating this glorious time in the midst of COVID-19.

1) Think Small

According to Amazon, the company’s sales increased 40 percent to $88.9 billion in the second quarter of this year, compared with $63.4 billion in the second quarter of 2019. While that’s good news for them, it has not been the story for the small businesses that were drastically affected by the shutdown. Many have had to close their doors. Others are hanging on in hopes that things will begin to look up. And that’s where we can come in to help.

It’s very convenient to hop on to the Amazon website or the site of another large retailer to buy Christmas gifts. We know that they’ll be on our doorstep within a day or two, and then we can cross that off our list. But why not seek out something unique and a little less mass-produced and, in the process, help a smaller business? There are many small vendors and companies that create a wide range of one-of-a-kind gifts that you can often personalize for the recipient, such as handmade rosaries or crosses.

On a broader scale, maybe we should also start to think small in other ways too. Perhaps this is a good time to rethink whether we really need all the material items that we put on our lists and buy for others. Do we really need that new outfit and shoes or that bigger TV? Will it make our lives infinitely better if we get that new phone?

This would be a good time to go through the things you have and think about what you really need and what might benefit someone else more. Removing the weight of material goods can be a very freeing experience.

2) Shop with a Purpose

If there is one thing this past year has made clear, it is the reality that, at any given moment, we may need help from other people through no fault or action of our own. If you have been able to weather this storm mostly unscathed, congratulations. Unfortunately, many others have not. Knowing that, we might want to offer help to those who may not have fared so well or who find themselves in an unfavorable or difficult life situation.

Perhaps instead of buying a friend or family member a new sweater or book, donate that money to an organization that will make a difference in the world. There are many different ones that provide opportunities to help underprivileged families throughout the world with the most basic of needs, such as water and clothing. For instance, through Catholic Relief Services (CRS) you can donate money and sponsor things such as a child’s education, a health exam, or a community watering station. The gift catalog on the CRS website (CRS.org) also offers a wide range of ideas.

Another organization working to help those in need is Catholic Charities. It helps families with affordable housing, provides disaster relief, and offers other means of assistance to those in need. According to a press release from the organization this past August, the agency “distributed nearly $400 million in emergency COVID-19 assistance to people across the United States and the US Territories during the past four months. Emergency help consists primarily of food, rental assistance, personal protective equipment, baby supplies, and emergency quarantine housing.”

There are also many local organizations in your area, including your own parish, that probably need some type of assistance, whether it be monetary or for things like clothes and household items.

3) Share the Love

Loneliness has skyrocketed during the long months of isolation brought on by the pandemic. Nursing homes, hospitals, and even our own homes at times have been on lockdown in order to keep ourselves and others from getting sick.

I was unable to visit my dad for months at his nursing home prior to him passing away last summer. I know the isolation took a toll on him—and my sisters and me. During that time, phone calls and video chats facilitated by the workers helped soothe the loneliness and sadness just a little bit.

Unfortunately, because of the ebb and flow of the disease, for many that loneliness has not faded despite the small steps we have taken to try to get back to some semblance of normal. Considering that, the technology that we both love and sometimes loathe was built for just this type of situation. It has become a lifeline to those we would otherwise be separated from. But technology is not the answer to everything. Many people are not blessed to be able to have such technology or the capability to use it. Because of that, we should remember that there is nothing quite like receiving a handwritten letter or card.

Have your kids or grandkids make cards for residents at a local nursing home or hospital. You might also ask your parish office if there are members of the parish whom you or your kids could reach out to. That connection may make a world of difference to someone feeling alone and isolated—especially at this time of year.

Or if, like me, you’ve been too busy in recent years to send out Christmas cards, consider sending them out this year. Include a short personal note or update on yourself or your family. It would probably be welcomed considering how difficult it’s been to get together with people this year.

4) Have Fun

These days, it seems as if my e-mail in-box is filled with articles on how to deal with or relieve the stress caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. One suggestion I’ve seen more than a few times is to stop and take time to do something you enjoy in order to take your mind off the uncertainty and bad news we seem to be surrounded by on an almost daily basis.

I must confess that since most of my kids’ activities have been canceled or curtailed because of COVID-19, I am enjoying the extra time our family has to spend together. This year, maybe we’ll finally have time to do all the things we always intend to do each year, such as driving to look at lights, decorating the house, Christmas caroling, or watching Christmas movies together.

Maybe this year we’ll actually have time to all sit together for dinner and light the candles of our Advent wreath on a more regular basis—something I’m embarrassed to say we have not done consistently since the kids were little.

Whatever it is your family decides to do, have fun doing it and rejoice in the blessing of time spent together.

5) Regain Your Focus

These are unprecedented times. This Christmas season will be like one we’ve never seen before and hopefully will not see again in our lifetimes. Our lives, traditions, and sense of normalcy have been thrown into disarray. In spite of that, though, on Christmas Day we will still celebrate the birth of Christ.

Every year when I watch the classic Christmas special How the Grinch Stole Christmas, based on the Dr. Seuss book, I am struck by one particular line in the show. After trying to stop Christmas from coming, the Grinch is shocked to see the Whos down in Whoville still celebrating. The sight makes him wonder: “‘Maybe Christmas,’ he thought, ‘doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas . . . perhaps . . . means a little bit more.'”

Every year, I tell myself that I’m going to take those words to heart. Yet every year I get sucked back into the whirlwind that has become the Christmas season. Maybe this year—with all its twists and turns and trials—will force me to stop and remember that Christmas . . . perhaps . . . means a little bit more.

Sidebar: A Helping Hand

If you and your family are looking to help others in need this holiday season, here are some organizations you might consider.

Catholic Charities | Catholic Charities works to provide service to people in need, to advocate for justice in social structures, and to call the entire Church and other people of goodwill to do the same.

St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital | The mission of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital is to advance cures, and means of prevention, for pediatric catastrophic diseases through research and treatment. Consistent with the vision of the hospital’s founder, Danny Thomas, no child is denied treatment based on race, religion, or a family’s ability to pay.

Catholic Campaign for Human Development | The Catholic Campaign for Human Development is the domestic anti-poverty program of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops.

Heifer USA | A branch of Heifer International, Heifer USA helps small-scale farmers deliver fresh, nutritious food to reliable markets by providing them with training, education, and resources needed to sell their products for a fair price.

Journaling is a chance to give a voice to what’s inside.

I love to write. Since I was a boy, paper and pencil have been on my list of favorite things. Now, I’ve added a nib pen. As a boy, I journaled. I still do. Some years, writing every day.

All journals have this in common: They give voice to what is inside. They become a safe space. In that way, journaling is like a sanctuary. A time and a place that allows us—gives us permission—to pause. To look inside and to embrace what is here, what is alive and well. To embrace our enoughness.

Think of this “sanctuary” space as a dose of grace; bestowing gifts upon us . . . stillness, gladness, calm, mystery, delight, discovery, learning, and peace. This resonates because it is in our DNA to be renewed, nourished, replenished, and spiritually hydrated.

So, welcome to our journaling journey, as we uncover, embrace, and savor. I’m so glad we are on this journey together.

Gratefully, life seems to ignore the script we have in our mind. And when that happens, we walk. We walk toward, or we walk away. Either way, we begin a journey—a pilgrimage to find or restore or give or heal or embrace or to forget or bury, or perhaps, just to have the deck of our world reshuffled.

In writing, we honor who we are and what is inside. We give it a voice. Journaling as self-care. And self-care is our invitation to self-love, befriending our own heart.

Even with the cleansing, soul care is owning the gift of the “not-easy-to-see” stuff. We are, every single one of us, wounded. That is a gift. We are, every single one of us, broken. And that is a gift. We are blessedly human, and we do indeed walk one another home.

Befriending our woundedness is not a solo act. Yes, I know. It doesn’t always feel that way. I look but don’t see any gift. Because I see brokenness and woundedness as impediments or disabilities, to be tidied up, overcome, or prayed away. What I don’t see is that, in the invitation to befriend my “untidy” self, is an invitation to embrace the beauty and the wonder within.

I will admit that there is comfort donning my cape, morphing into Mr. Tidy OCD, an emotional life fix-it hero. And I know why. It distracts and protects me because there’s a part of me that is afraid to pause, to befriend my scattered and wounded self. To let myself be loved for being this wonderfully messy imperfect me. Grace, it turns out, is WD-40 for the soul.

There are significant issues in our world (in my world) that invite and require investment and healing, and I want to show up. I want to bring my real self, my whole self, and spill light in any small way that I can. But today reminded me that I cannot forget, in my fixation to “make sense” of everything . . . along the way (even the messy way). I don’t want to miss the small gifts of life, the serendipitous gifts of grace, the presence of the holy, and the gentle dose of the sacred reflected in our everyday and extraordinarily ordinary world.

Our soul cannot thrive without nutrients. It becomes anemic or withered or weak. We experience a loss of creativity, joy, presence, listening, vibrancy. And an absence of peace.

Which leads to the question: What or who is feeding that part of my soul that nurtures peace and well-being? Where is that place which doesn’t require performance or manipulation or retribution? Where do we go for sustenance?

Embrace the Journey

“Life is full of beauty. Notice it,” author Ashley Smith writes. “Notice the bumblebee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.” Really? That’s your advice, Terry?

I do know this. When we stop the noise, we make (allow) space to practice the sacrament of the present—in the specific, the mundane, the daily, and the particular. I am here—to see, to listen, to touch, to give, to heal. And the first person to tell about it is yourself. That’s why you journal. I know that’s why I journal.

However, like anything available to replenish us, to help us grow, and to walk us toward maturity, our Western mindset intervenes with anxious questions. Does this journaling come with instructions? (Hoping, I’m sure, there is something less vexing than what comes with any IKEA project.) Our Western mindset gets in the way and wants to find the agenda first. What do I get from this? There must be a payoff.

But here’s the deal: Life isn’t a contest. Or a test. Or a beauty pageant.

Who knows? You just may find a new you. Or, more importantly, rediscover the you that has been buried under the clutter and press of the hectic. One that is more aware, present, energized, real, authentic, and fully alive. The journey is not only about what we do. It is about what we don’t do. What if I become a better me, not by addition, but by subtraction?

OK. You still want an agenda? I can’t do any better than Mary Oliver’s words: “Pause. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

It helps to know that catharsis is a good thing, to write without editing, letting go of the question, “Am I doing it right?” Here’s a new word for you: balter. It means to dance with no need for polish or public opinion. Think of journaling as baltering with a pen in hand. Free to doodle or draw or paint.

Become Like a Child

Speaking of pause. It helps to remember that there are two kinds of pause. One is passive—be still. Catch my breath. I breathe out. The other is active pausing; I am attentive. I am conscious in this moment. I own and take responsibility for this life. This day. This moment. I breathe in.

Then I write what I see, hear, taste, touch, and smell, just to tell myself about it. Enjoy the journey. Enjoy the wonder. Which is why I like to think of the journaling as dedication to the child within us: Because like it or not, our childhood stays with us forever, regardless of our age. And I hope that we do, at times, continue to behave childlike. (Jesus seemed to think it was a good thing—something about entering the kingdom of heaven and all that.)

Childlike behavior may even help one to stay pure at heart and to live life simply. Simplicity is always a wonderful thing because it invites us to live smack-dab in the middle of the present moment. To embrace the sacrament of the present. It just may be that we’re not childlike enough.

So I Googled childlike. The first two pages referred me to articles or sites about “childishness.” Go figure. We still haven’t moved past that? I remember when I was young I was encouraged (maybe persuaded?) to grow up, to be an adult. To give up my childlike ways. But since when did childlike become a jeopardy or a hazard?

Harry Chapin introduced the song “Flowers Are Red” by telling the story of his secretary’s son. Her kindergartner son brought home a report card that read: “Your son marches to the beat of a different drummer. By the end of the year, he’ll be like everyone else.”

My friend Ed tells me this story. His mom said that one day he was sent home with a note that read: “It’s not that Eddie is not doing well in school. It’s that the things he does well in, we don’t give grades in.” Now we’re talking.

You know, like sparking laughter or reaching for a surge of joy. Sitting on the grass and maybe even rolling in it. Putting on some music and dancing unabashed. Or baltering if it’s your style. Running through a sprinkler. Celebrating the colors of the rainbow. Tell me what you feel, what makes you smile real big, what makes your heart glad. And tell me the names of people who are a part of that journey with you. Remember this: That child within never left you.

Learn to Saunter

Franciscan teacher John Duns Scotus helps here. He tells us that God did not create genus and species. God only created “thisness ” (in Latin haecceitas). He said that until we can experience each thing in its specific thisness, we will not easily experience the joy and ubiquity of divine presence. Thisness: to embrace (and be embraced by) the sacrament of the present moment, the here and now in all its ordinariness and particularity. In other words, I can’t be present in general. I’m invited to be present to this person, this conversation or event or conundrum. Right here, right now.

Thisness invites savoring and gives birth to wholeheartedness, joy, empathy, compassion, and connection. In the sacrament of the present, fear and striving do not own us, and we welcome our imperfect parts. When everything must be weighed and measured to be of value, down the road, (gratefully) something snaps.

While I sit on the back deck, the sun sets over the Kitsap Peninsula (the expanse of land west of Seattle and Puget Sound). The sky, as if batter poured from a pitcher, turns an effluence of slate blue and vermilion. Spires of hemlock are backlit and silhouetted like hand puppets on an immense screen. I stand for some unknown reason, singing, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog. Was a good friend of mine . . .” at the top of my lungs and do a little boogie with my dog, Conroy, who hasn’t the foggiest idea what’s come over me but is a sucker for a party and plays along nonetheless.

I let the moment melt around me before I gain my composure and give myself some sort of reality check: a quiz requiring justification for what I’m feeling and why. And then it hits me. I can’t tell a soul about my dance at twilight without coming face-to-face with who I was pretending not to be and the energy it required to maintain that image.

When I lived in Southern California, I spent three days a month at a Benedictine monastery out in the high desert. It was my periodic trek to a place where I could slow down long enough to pay attention. Truth is, I wanted to learn how to be alone with myself and like it because I wasn’t very good at that. And I wanted to learn how to be alone with God and like it because I wasn’t very good at that either.

On one visit, a friend asked one of the monks, “What exactly do you do here?”

“We pray,” the monk replied simply.

“No, really,” my friend persisted. “I mean besides that. What do you really do?”

“It is enough just to pray,” the monk told my friend.

“It is enough,” I tell my dog, standing on the deck absorbing the summer sky, “just to boogie.” Just to boogie under the inexplicable marbled canopy of dusk. Just to feel your lungs swell and your heart flutter. Just to cheer the sun as it sets and not give a damn about some need to fight back the tears, standing spellbound in the salty prism for twilight rainbows.

Thisness.

Not a bad way to start a conversation. “Where did you find or embrace thisness—the gift of enough—today?”

The Vow (HBO)

When Keith Raniere founded NXIVM (pronounced necks-ee-um) in 1998, his self-professed motivation was to help individuals realize their full potential. On October 27 of this year, Raniere was sentenced to 120 years in prison for sex trafficking and racketeering—just to name a few. HBO’s nine-part series The Vow plunges into this multilevel marketing cult, its mysterious leader, and the survivors who brought the organization to the ground.

The series focuses on three people primarily: Mark Vicente and Sarah Edmondson, NXIVM leaders-turned-whistleblowers, and Dynasty star Catherine Oxenberg, who struggles to free her daughter from the cult. NXIVM expats have charged Raniere, among other leaders in the organization, with facilitating a sex ring—and with good reason.

Deep within the NXIVM structure is a secret society of women called DOS (dominus obsequious sororium). Managed from afar by Raniere, the women in DOS submit to a master-slave dynamic, must provide damaging collateral, and are branded with the leader’s initials on their skin.

The series addresses important questions, such as: Why would anyone sacrifice their personal freedom to achieve personal greatness? The women and men recruited by NXIVM are not naive. They are independent, successful, and formidable. But Raniere seemed to instinctively identify cracks in their foundations. Using his intellect, he gained entry and, ultimately, control.

We’re introduced to survivors, family members, attorneys, and cult experts who guide viewers through the NXIVM maze. But the one to watch for is Edmondson, former executive and member of DOS, who bears both the physical scars of her branding and the emotional scars that cut much deeper. Her descent into the cult was precipitous; her emergence is a study in reclaiming one’s power.

Early in the series, Vicente says something sobering: “Nobody joins a cult,” he says. “They join a good thing.” The Vow shows us that even the strongest can lose themselves to the siren song of a pied piper.

Podcast of the Year

Truth and Lies: Jeffrey Epstein (ABC Audio)

When Jeffrey Epstein died by suicide on August 10, 2019, in a Manhattan jail cell, the financier and prolific sex offender took his secrets with him. But this much we do know: Accusations against Epstein were filed as far back as March 2005 in Palm Beach, Florida. In fact, wherever he traveled, crimes of a sexual nature soon followed. His residences in New York City; Santa Fe, New Mexico; New Albany, Ohio; and the US Virgin Islands became houses of horror for many young women.

The sheer scale of his crimes is unimaginable—but they are researched, documented, and deconstructed with authority by ABC News in Truth and Lies: Jeffrey Epstein. Hosted by Mark Remillard, who is supported by a team of investigative journalists, this 10-episode podcast explores Epstein’s early life in Brooklyn and his mysterious rise to power, as well as his crimes and the network that aided and abetted him.

Truth and Lies introduces listeners to a dizzying number of Epstein survivors who recount their experiences. Among them is Maria Farmer, who was a promising New York artist before her life was upended by Epstein’s “patronage.” Michelle Licata and Courtney Wild came from humble backgrounds and were groomed by Epstein and his network of helpers. Indeed, many of the victims came from broken homes or abject poverty.

The survivors’ testimonies can be draining for listeners to endure, but that pales in comparison to the horrors they faced. These witness testimonies, bubbling over with righteous anger, are part of their healing journey. It’s our duty, those of us on the periphery, to listen.

Epstein’s death left far more questions than answers—and survivors were denied a measure of justice. For some, though, hope remains. Theresa J. Helm, one of many Epstein accusers, had this to say at a New York hearing in 2019: “The last 17 years has been a dark corner in my story. I’m here today because it is time to bring light to that darkness, and it’s time to replace that darkness with light.”

Writer-director Aaron Sorkin’s latest film, streaming on Netflix, is deeply felt historical theater on parade. It’s been more than 50 years since the events portrayed took place, but the story still resonates as it engages audiences about democracy, the judicial process, and the illegitimacy of the Vietnam War.

We meet the mismatched but dedicated group of protesters who want to be seen and heard as the death count of American soldiers in Vietnam mounts. Yippie anti-Vietnam protester Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen); his pal Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong); preppy Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne), cofounder of Students for a Democratic Society; Boy Scout leader David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch); Lee Weiner (Noah Robbins); John Froines (Danny Flaherty); and Rennie Davis (Alex Sharp) go to Chicago to peacefully protest the war during the 1968 Democratic National Convention. They beg the Chicago Police Department to prepare for possible unrest but are ignored. They apply for and receive permits to rally and march.

When a riot breaks out, the seven are arrested for conspiracy, along with Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), the leader of the Black Panthers. The trial comes down to who started the riot (the protesters or the police?) and what is on trial (the protests or the ideas behind them?).

Sorkin’s gift is his ability to make sense out of a complicated trial. William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) looks disheveled but represents the seven men without care for his own well-being. Bobby Seale’s attorney never shows up, and Seale is eventually granted a mistrial based on the judge’s racial bias. Judge Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella) rules his courtroom with an iron fist rather than with objectivity or understanding and lets it be known that he disapproves of the men and their ideas.

Sorkin provides insight into the personalities of those on trial (four of them, anyway; three are left underdeveloped). The role of the federal government becomes clear when former Attorney General Ramsey Clark (Michael Keaton) is asked to testify on behalf of the defense.

Once the trial starts, the film becomes a terrific courtroom drama. The conversations between Abbie Hoffman and Hayden are brilliant. The acting is superb, and the bad ’60s haircuts and styles are realistic. The Trial of the Chicago 7 has something to say about nonviolence, police brutality, and politics—and may launch conversations about judicial reform.

A-3, R, Rioting, violence, racial prejudice, language.

Boobs: The War on Women’s Breasts

Documentarian Megan Smith, whose husband died of cancer 11 years ago after he chose to adhere to the accepted “standard of care,” decided to make a film about his story and question the meaning of “standard of care” used in US health care. During the process she learned about mammograms, the accepted standard of diagnostic care to screen for breast cancer, and decided that this was a film that urgently needed to be made. Why the title? To grab the attention of women so they could learn about problems with mammography that were not reported and “the myths we are being told.” The film does not cover all the issues; she is following up with a book.

The problem begins with clinics not being obliged to notify women that they have dense breast tissue; then when radiologists notice density, they automatically increase the amount of targeted radiation on the breast without telling the patient. Today, 38 states mandate that clinics notify women when they have dense tissue, but patients end up going back for more mammograms and more radiation without being told about the risks. The FDA is supposed to regulate mammography, but any monitoring of the amounts of radiation women receive is minimal.

Through interviews with doctors who use nontraditional diagnostic tools such as thermography in combination with ultrasounds, Smith tells us that there are safer ways to detect cancers without repeated radiation. However, since the 1980s, mammograms have become a multibillion-dollar-a-year business, and insurance companies often will not pay for any other diagnostic procedures.

This film is important and unique, and the information provided is compelling. It is like watching a PowerPoint presentation on film because every fact stated or revealed comes with the reference for the research. Smith hopes that women will become aware about what mammography is doing to their bodies and ask doctors for alternative, safe diagnostic procedures that are much cheaper than a mammogram.

Not yet rated, Medical views of mammograms.

Over the Moon

Fei Fei (voice of Cathy Ang) lives happily with her parents in a small city in China. As they prepare mooncakes for the Mid-Autumn Festival, Mother (Ruthie Ann Miles) tells her stories of Chang’e (Phillipa Soo), the goddess who lives on the moon, forever mourning her intended husband, the warrior Houyi (Conrad Ricamora), who died. Father (John Cho) looks on his family with love but is shaken when Mother dies. Four years later, when the lovely Mrs. Zhong (Sandra Oh) shows up with her annoying son, it becomes evident that they will soon become a blended family. Fei Fei resists.

Fei Fei, who loved Mother’s stories, has become interested in science. She thinks if she can make a rocket and go to the moon, she will prove to Father that Mother’s love is eternal because the moon goddess is real. After quite a journey, Fei Fei learns that if you can love another, love only grows.

Over the Moon is a beautifully crafted animated musical from Sony Image Works and streaming on Netflix, directed by Glen Keane and written by Audrey Wells. Traditional Chinese instruments are used throughout, and one of the songs is in English and Mandarin. Much effort was made at authentic representations of Chinese architecture and customs, with the family at the center.

Not yet rated, PG, Loss, death, grief.