Occasional Notes From Suzanne - A weekly audio-essay on faith, a book recommendation, and a recipe

On Sunday mornings I pass miles of farms and homesteads in various states of use. There’s one stretch of road that used to be densely wooded but has been gradually cleared over the past year, seemingly by one man.

In the few seconds it takes me to drive by, I’ve watched him transform the dense brush into something that resembles a park, green meadows taking the place of the rough bramble, trees that create pools of dappled shade, and a narrow stream that winds through the land, cutting across this new space that wanders along between the road and a steep hill.

At the entrance to this now-cleared land, there sit a few stone angels. I’m not sure what they signify, whether invitation or memorial.

In this rural community, where I’ll pass a handful of cars as I drive the two-lane highway into town, I’ll also pass at least four different churches. I see the man working his land and in this Bible-belt community, I wonder why he’s not at church.

I like to imagine that while he’s not sitting in one of the long wooden pews, he’s built his own church—an open-air cathedral where he meets God while he clears the land for whatever purpose demands stone angels at its entrance.

This week’s gospel reading took us into the world of another farm-based family, the familiar parable of the prodigal son. Most of us know the story well: two sons, vastly different in nature, and the father who loves them both.

The younger son, eager to break free, asks his father for his inheritance early, and with it, he heads off to the city, lured by bright lights and empty promises. He throws himself into a life of indulgence, wasting his fortune on reckless living. And predictably, squanders it.

Penniless and homeless, he finds himself feeding pigs, longing for the food he’s giving to them. It is in that moment of desperation that he decides to return home, hoping his father will accept him back, even as a servant. But the father, seeing his son from afar, runs to him, embraces him, and throws a grand feast to celebrate his return.

Those among us who have lived upright and responsible lives may very well resent the prodigal son and his effortless restoration. “He’s never going to learn his lesson that way!”

But maybe that’s not always the end of the story for the prodigal son, or daughter.

For Lent, our parish book club is reading a selection of writings by Charles de Foucauld, a French soldier, explorer, and monk, who started his life much like the prodigal son, an aristocrat indulging his appetite for his mistress and his love of truffles and champagne. After encountering God, (the Father) his life takes a radical change toward service and missionary adventure.

Then there’s the older son. The one who stayed behind, worked the land, and followed the rules. When he hears of the feast for his brother, his heart swells with resentment. He has been the good son, the dutiful one, his father’s generosity toward the prodigal son feels like a betrayal. He feels invisible, unappreciated.

Many of us, at some point, have felt like the older son—making choices for responsibility’s sake, sacrificing dreams for practicalities, choosing stability over adventure, only to find that as time passes, opportunities slip away, and dreams become distant memories.

Our own lives may not have been lived to such extremes as Charles de Foucauld, but I will confess to have been both the prodigal and responsible daughter in my life. I believe we all have.

We often overlook the third character in this story. The father who not only welcomes his lost son home with open arms but also listens patiently to the complaints of his older son. He gives both sons what they need—one, unconditional forgiveness, and the other, understanding and reassurance.

This is God. The father who accepts us, no matter what we’ve done, who embraces us with grace when we’ve made mistakes, and stands beside us, even when we’ve done everything right and resent that we had no choice.

He is the father who helps us find new dreams when the old ones fade away. I see God standing near the man working his land, just as I feel God’s presence with me in church, as I struggle to pull my attention back to the altar and away from the worries that weigh on me.

We all can relate to the prodigal son or the older son, but let us turn from our own stories toward the father—the one who loves us endlessly, who welcomes us no matter how we come to him. God the father, who never stops loving, never stops forgiving, and always, always welcomes us home.

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The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother (Luke 15:11-32)

11 Then Jesus[a] said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled himself with[b] the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’” 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”[c] 22 But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

25 ‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” 31 Then the father[d] said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.”’

The month of March is bookended for me by two significant dates: the anniversary of my mother’s passing on March 2 and my birthday on March 19.

March 2 reminds me how swiftly life can pass, even when it lasts 95 years as it did for my mother. It also reminds me how deeply we can miss someone after they are gone, a feeling that has remained with me ever since that day in 2022.

March 19, on the other hand, marks the beginning of my 63rd year. It is a reminder of how quickly the years roll forward and how much more precious they feel as the ones behind me now outnumber those ahead.

I want to pause on that image because I believe it offers a valuable perspective on life, especially as we grow older. Some of us carry the weight of past regrets so heavily that it becomes a burden, preventing us from fully experiencing the present. This is a cruel form of self-imposed suffering because, no matter how much we dwell on the past, we cannot change it. Yet, these thoughts can loop endlessly in our minds, pulling us away from the here and now.

But there is another way. While it is natural to reflect on the past and wish we had done some things differently, if we can quiet or minimize those thoughts, we create space for hope and optimism.

I think of my parents, who, upon retiring at 65, embarked on a remarkable new chapter of their lives. They moved to Kyiv, Ukraine, and began an adventure that took them around the world. They served in their communities, did work they loved, and lived some of the most fulfilling, joyful, and challenging years of their lives.

That is the model I want to aspire to. The difference between living a life of regret and living a life of hope is simple: regret paralyzes us, while hope propels us forward. Whenever we are tempted to dwell on our past mistakes, we should instead take action—something physical, something positive—to remind ourselves that the present is where life happens.

This, I believe, is the freedom God offers us. When He forgives our sins, they are cast as far from Him as the east is from the west. If God forgives us, then surely we, too, can forgive ourselves. And we should.

Every day can be a kind of birthday—a fresh start, a reminder that this day has never been lived before. It is an opportunity to grow into the best version of ourselves, the person God created us to be: loving, hopeful, optimistic, and kind.

* Fast from hurting words and say kind words

* Fast from sadness and be filled with gratitude.

* Fast from anger and be filled with patience.

* Fast from pessimism and be filled with hope.

* Fast from worries and have trust in God.

* Fast from complaints and contemplate simplicity.

* Fast from pressures and be prayerful.

* Fast from bitterness and fill your hearts with joy.

* Fast from selfishness and be compassionate to others.

* Fast from grudges and be reconciled.

* Fast from words and be silent so you can listen.

(Source: USCCB.org)

Dear Friends,

As we enter the season of Lent, we are called to embrace three core practices: fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. The list above is attributed to Pope Francis, and beautifully intertwines fasting and almsgiving in a way that goes beyond the traditional sacrifices of food, alcohol, or spending habits. Instead, it invites us to fast from words and actions that harm ourselves and others and, in their place, to offer something life-giving—a kindness, a generosity of spirit, a moment of grace.

As I read through this list, I can’t help but think what a profound and transformative Lent it would be if we truly committed to just to this list. What a difference it would make in our own hearts and in the lives of those around us. In fact, I’m going to write this list out and put it on my refrigerator as a daily reminder, challenging myself to see how many of these I can live out over the next 40 days.

The third practice of Lent, prayer, deepens our relationship with God. While the list above primarily focuses on how we engage with ourselves and others, prayer calls us into an intimate, honest, and loving connection with God. Like any relationship, this one must be nurtured daily.

It asks us to set aside time, to be open, vulnerable, and real with God—to come as we are, knowing that we are fully seen, fully known, and still completely loved. For many of us, accepting that unconditional love can be difficult, especially if we carry past regrets or struggles. But it is the very foundation of our faith: that God loves us not despite our imperfections, but simply because we are His.

I encourage you, as I do each time I write this newsletter, to find a quiet moment in your day to talk with God. It doesn’t have to be formal or structured—just sincere.

I cherish my morning prayers over my first cup of coffee, but I’ve also prayed in my car, while kneeling beside my bed, or even in the shower. The important thing is that we do it daily, with an open heart, allowing God’s love to meet us right where we are.

And so, we begin our first week of Lent. May we move forward with fasting, almsgiving, and prayer, each in our own way, and may this season draw us closer to God and to one another.

God bless you, and I look forward to sharing this journey with you again next week.

With love,

Suzanne

P.S. What I’m reading, listening to, or watching this week:

On YouTube: Journey through Lent with Father Boniface Hicks, OSB brought to us by the Word on Fire Institute. I HIGHLY recommend this short 20-minute video, the first in a weekly Lenten series. It’s not just for Catholics or Christians, it’s for everyone.

Two books, both by Fr. Boniface Hicks. I started reading them last night, they’re both terrific: 1) Personal Prayer: A Guide for Receiving the Father’s Love, 2) The Hidden Power of Silence in the Mass: Encountering Christ in the Liturgy

And for fun, I am an avid reader of traditional mysteries. Currently reading: Close to Death by Anthony Horowitz, and listening to The Grey Wolf by Louise Penny.

Dear Friends,

If you’ve spent time on social media, you’ve probably seen ads promising to change your life in just 30 days. Well, I have a similar invitation—but this one isn’t about quick fixes. It’s about something deeper, something that could truly shape your heart and soul.

Next week, we begin Lent on Ash Wednesday.

Lent is more than just giving up chocolate or sticking to fish fry Fridays. It’s a 40-ish-day journey leading us to Easter—a sacred time to reflect, grow, and walk more closely with God. For me, it’s the most meaningful season of the year, an invitation to step into Christ’s journey to the cross and consider what it means for our lives and our world.

Before Lent sneaks up on us, let’s pause and set an intention for this season. My goal each year remains the same: to walk more closely with God. But the way I get there is always different. What about you? Where do you long to grow in your spiritual life? And what small steps could you take over these next 40 days to move in that direction?

This year, I’m drawing inspiration from Pope Francis' message for Lent 2025: “Let us journey together in hope.” In a time when his health is declining, and the world feels increasingly uncertain, his words offer us a meaningful path for reflection and renewal.

Starting next Wednesday, I’ll be sending out a weekly Lenten newsletter exploring Pope Francis’ call to hope—what it means for our faith, our relationship with God, and our journey with one another.

I’d love for you to join me on this path. Let’s walk it together.

With hope,

Suzanne

P.S. Here’s a few items you might want to include in your Lenten knapsack…

* What to give up for Lent? It is traditional to give up something during Lent as an act of penitence. I’ve had mixed results, but I continue because one year I gave up alcohol for Lent, and I’ve not had a drink in seven years. It’s been life-changing for me.

* Lent is a great time to add a new daily spiritual habit because there’s a finite timeline. What can you commit to trying? How about 10 minutes of meditating on a few verses from the Psalms with your first cup of coffee? Or 20 minutes of talking to God when you’re out on a daily walk? Identify one spiritual practice you’ve been meaning to try, and do it now.

* I love being inspired by other writers, and Lent is a great time to pick up a spiritual classic you’ve been meaning to read or find new inspiration in a Lenten devotional. Our parish book club is reading Charles de Foucauld (Modern Spiritual Masters): Writings. Here’s a link to a broad assortment of books for Lent, and a shameless plug for Journey, a Lenten devotional I published last year from my faith columns in the Summit Daily News.

* Bring a friend. Spritual journeys are very personal. However, asking a friend or neighbor to join you in reading a Lenten book or meet weekly for coffee and a chat about what you’re learning during Lent can make the journey more memorable.

Where I go, your hand will guide me;

your strength will empower me.

It’s impossible to disappear from you

or to ask the darkness to hide me,

for your presence is everywhere,

bringing light into the night.

Psalm 139: 10-11

The other day I moved my bed from one wall to the other in my bedroom. I like rearranging the furniture every so often because it changes my perspective and it calms me.

Reading the psalms each morning also calms me.

The other day it occurred to me that the psalms are part of a throughline conveying God’s pursuit of us. From the very first story of God walking with Adam and Eve among the faultless beauty of the garden of Eden, through Moses’ conversations with God on an arid mountaintop, and finally to the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

What infinite patience, what determination, is conveyed through these examples.

On languid afternoons, God met Adam and Eve for easy walks and conversations not yet tinged with fear or guilt, in the sinless and perfect state in which He created the humans he longed to call friends. What hopes He must have had for us then when he offered us a perfect world and endless lives.

In Moses’ time, God’s message is relayed through pronouncements to his people. The relationship no longer an easy conversation among friends, but now the formal language of an estranged relationship. Between God and his people, who seem determined to turn their back on him at every inconvenience. Still, it is God who pursues us through the desert, caring for us when we thirst.

In the psalms we hear the words of individuals seeking a personal relationship with God. Willing to share their vulnerability, their anger, their sorrow, their hope. We see the fledgling trust in God’s willingness to engage with each of us, we no longer have to hide ourselves from the face of God.

Finally, God makes the ultimate sacrifice by coming to us in human form, skin so easily punctured, heart so easily broken. As an infant born in a rough hewn stall outfitted for farm animals. Into a family of laborers, he experienced everything a child, a teenager, a young adult, and finally a grown man would feel and see, living in our skin, hearing our voices not from afar but next to.

Here our relationship with God has come full circle. As in the garden of Eden, God walks with us. Again.

This time is different. He is not visiting us for a walk through a perfect garden. Beside a smoky campfire, he calls us to join him for a breakfast he has prepared after our long night of labor. He weeps with us over the death of a friend and brother. He heals us, mind, body, and soul, even when we have been rejected by our community.

Because He is God, this became his greatest gift to us, his willingness to not only walk with us, in our fragile skin, but then to experience in the most painful way, our greatest fear, the loss of life. But also because He is God, the lesson he wanted us to understand wasn’t about longevity, but that life’s greatest treasure is love. To love one another, to love ourselves, and most of all to love God.

That God loves us just as we are, sinful, wrong, fearful, failures is the throughline of history. God loves us and only asks that we love him in return.

When we learn to love our Creator, we can love ourselves, and love one another. From the daily practice of God’s love, we move closer to what we lost at the beginning.

I understand now why my mother grew more in love with God as she grew older. As I read the psalms each morning, I feel the same.

I cherish my faith because it makes me a better person. I am grateful to God for this gift because it is only a gift from God, I have done nothing to earn it.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all -

* Emily Dickinson

It is impossible to place our hope in the future, when anchors of regret hold our hearts captive in the past.

I cannot tell you how many times since my mother’s death I have remembered something I said, or did years before with painful regret knowing I cannot change what is in the past.

Hope is the theme of this first week of Advent, yet even as we hope is there some part of us that stands on the periphery, unwilling to enter the church, disbelieving that Christ would ever love someone who has made as many mistakes as we have.

We stand outside in the darkness peering through the doorway where the birth of the infant Jesus will be celebrated, longing to join in that warming light that will heal us, feeling that we are unworthy.

Yet time and time again, God has assured us throughout the Bible, I will forgive your sins and forget your sins until finally He sent his Son to walk with us in human form, to teach us, to heal us, to become bearer of our sins.

Born in the most lowly circumstances to show us that he loves us just as we are, knowing better than we know the mistakes we’ve made. His desire is to heal the shame that keeps us from loving ourselves.

Because Christ knows that when we are healed, we will see God’s love more clearly, and be ready to share God’s love with others.

That is the definition of real hope, based not on an idealized picture of ourselves, but on the stalwart love of God that sees us as we are, that overcame our darkness, and never stopped loving us.

A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 8:5-11

When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.” He said to him, “I will come and cure him.” The centurion said in reply, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come here,’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, “Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. I say to you, many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

Psalm 107:1-9

“O give thanks to the Lord who is good,

whose faithful love endures forever.”

Let the redeemed of the Lord say this,

those redeemed from the hand of the foe,

and gathered from far-off lands,

from east and west, north and south.

They wandered in a barren desert,

finding no way to a city they could dwell in.

Hungry they were and thirsty;

their soul was fainting within them.

Then they cried to the Lord in their need,

and God rescued them from their distress,

guiding them along a straight path,

to reach a city they could dwell in.

Let them give thanks for the love of the Lord,

such wonders for the human race:

God satisfies the thirsty soul,

and fills the hungry with good things.

I read a psalm every morning and then talk with God. The other morning, I read these verses from Psalm 107 and said to myself, Nice thoughts, but nothing there for me today.

Then I stopped and remembered that God makes no mistakes, so I read them a second time and then a third, slowly.

These verses speak so eloquently for those who long for peace in Ukraine or the Middle East, for healing of broken minds or bodies, for the means to feed our families, for restoration of homes after a storm, for a lost job, or a safe place to sleep. In other words, to me and each of us, at one time or another.

This morning’s verses wisely reminded me that I am to pray for not only for the circle of my family and friends, but for strangers I will never meet, but whom God loves as dearly as He loves me, and you.

Next week we will elect new leaders, from local county commissioners, to the President of the United States. But our country is so thoroughly divided that half of us will be disappointed no matter the outcome.

Over the summer I began watching Mark Halperin’s Two Way Morning Meeting on YouTube and Zoom. (most of you know I’m a political junkie.)

And a funny thing happened. The program features political commentary, but then opens up to participants in the Zoom audience for questions or comments. I heard from zealous supporters on both sides.

Over the weeks, I went from adamantly defending my views to realizing I share commonalities with Americans who will be voting for the other candidate.

I hope you can see where this is going…

We are One Nation Under God not because we think the same way, but because, despite of our differences, we are one nation beloved by God. And God calls us to care for our neighbors, yes our nation, as we care for ourselves.

So, no matter the outcome of next week’s election, I will ask God to give wisdom and compassion to our next president. And I will pray that we recall not what divides us, but the goodness of this nation that unites us.

After the storm, a friend said they found it difficult to feel blessed that their home had been spared, when others had lost so much. I’m certain many of us share that tug of gratitude and guilt.

The trees in my backyard were knocked down like a ragged row of dominoes by those winds, while my neighbors trees remain standing. Should I feel less blessed?

The electric power to my house was restored within four days, but a few streets over, they had to wait a week. Are they one rung lower on God’s list of favorites?

It’s a slippery slope when we track our blessings and hardships as a measure of God’s love for us versus our neighbor.

Two hours west of us in Asheville, entire towns were wiped away and the lives lost are still being calculated. No one would say that they were lacking God’s love.

It’s understandable to feel guilty in same breath that we count our blessings, when the storm damage we faced was manageable, while our neighbor suffered greatly.

But maybe blessings are not meant to be compared, but shared.

Within hours of the winds’ subsiding, our Facebook community pages were filled with offers of help, neighbors with chainsaws, churches providing free meals, volunteer fire departments acting as clearing houses for donations.

On Sunday afternoon, we took a drive along the New River. Debris still clung to tree branches twenty feet above the ground, as evidence of how far the storm surge had reached.

But in a pasture that ran along the river ten or so people, neighboring farmers or family, worked together to clear the field for their cows.

I am certain that God blesses each of us, and every circumstance we face, from the infinite well of his mercy and love.

Whether in the hurricane’s aftermath, or in our own storms of life, I believe God is with us. Sometimes, we are protected from the storm so that we can help those who were not. Whether protected or helped, we are both blessed by God’s provision.

And when there is no one to help us, God himself is present. His infinite love surrounding us in that instant for eternity, filling us with the soul-knowledge that we are not alone, because God will never leave us.

“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Jesus Christ, to his disciples.

-Matthew 28:20

This morning at Easter Mass, Father Cory read the Paschal Sermon of St. John Chrysostom. It is the best explanation of God’s love for us that I’ve ever heard. I hope you will take a moment to read it.

God bless you, with love,

-Suzanne

“If any man be devout and love God, let him enjoy this fair and radiant triumphal feast. If any man be a wise servant, let him rejoicing enter into the joy of his Lord. If any have labored long in fasting, let him now receive his recompense. If any have wrought from the first hour, let him today receive his just reward. If any have come at the third hour, let him with thankfulness keep the feast. If any have arrived at the sixth hour, let him have no misgivings; because he shall in nowise be deprived thereof. If any have delayed until the ninth hour, let him draw near, fearing nothing. If any have tarried even until the eleventh hour, let him, also, be not alarmed at his tardiness; for the Lord, who is jealous of his honor, will accept the last even as the first; He gives rest unto him who comes at the eleventh hour, even as unto him who has wrought from the first hour.

And He shows mercy upon the last, and cares for the first; and to the one He gives, and upon the other He bestows gifts. And He both accepts the deeds, and welcomes the intention, and honors the acts and praises the offering. Wherefore, enter you all into the joy of your Lord; and receive your reward, both the first, and likewise the second. You rich and poor together, hold high festival. You sober and you heedless, honor the day. Rejoice today, both you who have fasted and you who have disregarded the fast. The table is full-laden; feast ye all sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away.

Enjoy ye all the feast of faith: Receive ye all the riches of loving-kindness. let no one bewail his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one weep for his iniquities, for pardon has shown forth from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Savior’s death has set us free. He that was held prisoner of it has annihilated it. By descending into Hell, He made Hell captive. He embittered it when it tasted of His flesh. And Isaiah, foretelling this, did cry: Hell, said he, was embittered, when it encountered Thee in the lower regions. It was embittered, for it was abolished. It was embittered, for it was mocked. It was embittered, for it was slain. It was embittered, for it was overthrown. It was embittered, for it was fettered in chains. It took a body, and met God face to face. It took earth, and encountered Heaven. It took that which was seen, and fell upon the unseen.

O Death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory? Christ is risen, and you are overthrown. Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen. Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice. Christ is risen, and life reigns. Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave. For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages. Amen”.

The Catechetical Sermon of St. John Chrysostom is read during Matins of Pascha.

I copied this sermon and the following biographical information from The Orthodox Church in America’s website oca.org:

About St. John Chrysostom:

St. John Chrysostom ("The Golden Tongue") was born at Antioch in about the year 347 into the family of a military-commander, spent his early years studying under the finest philosophers and rhetoricians and was ordained a deacon in the year 381 by the bishop of Antioch Saint Meletios. In 386 St. John was ordained a priest by the bishop of Antioch, Flavian.

Over time, his fame as a holy preacher grew, and in the year 397 with the demise of Archbishop Nektarios of Constantinople—successor to Sainted Gregory the Theologian—Saint John Chrysostom was summoned from Antioch for to be the new Archbishop of Constantinople.

Exiled in 404 and after a long illness because of the exile, he was transferred to Pitius in Abkhazia where he received the Holy Eucharist, and said, "Glory to God for everything!", falling asleep in the Lord on 14 September 407.

Hello Friends,

Holy Week is here. Maybe you’ll participate in four church services over the next seven days. Or maybe you won’t go to church at all.

No matter your choice, I invite you to this personal spiritual retreat. It is two steps and will take no more than 15 minutes each day.

* Read the Bible passage for the day (Click on the highlighted link.)

* Read the prayer prompt, then close your eyes and talk with God.

That’s it. My hope is that we will draw closer to God this week, walk with Jesus to the cross, and then celebrate our rebirth with his resurrection.

God bless you.

Palm Sunday - Praising God

Read: Mark 11:1-11

Pray: Lord Jesus, Hosanna! I hail you as King, but turn away when it’s not popular or comfortable. Still, you love me, just as I am so imperfect and inconsistent. Help me to remember the joy I felt when I first met you.

Isaiah 41:10 says, "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand"

~

Holy Monday

Read: John 12:1-11

Pray: Jesus, my gifts are meager. But sometimes I am like Mary and sometimes like Judas. Do I give you my best? All you ask for is my heart. Jesus, I give you my heart.

“He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time.” 2 Timothy 1:9

~

Holy Tuesday

Read: John 13:21-33

Pray: Lord, I have been hurt by someone who loved me. I have hurt someone I loved. Give me the humility to ask for forgiveness and the grace to forgive. Forgiveness opens my heart to hope in you.

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you”. Mark 11:25

~

Holy Wednesday

Read: Matthew 26:14-25

Pray: Dear God, I have done things in my life that I knew were wrong, and I did them anyway. I have turned away from you, and thought I was better without you. I was wrong. Forgive me, God so I can know that you loved me even when I was wrong.

"The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving, even though we have rebelled against him." Daniel 9:9

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Maundy Thursday

Read: John 13:2-35

Pray: Lord Jesus, you gave us yourself in bread and wine. You asked us to remember you always. Help me to experience you not as a distant memory, but alive today in your real presence.

“While they were eating, He took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, and said, ‘Take it; this is my body.’ Then He took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.’” Mark 14:22-24.

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Good Friday - Steadfast Love

Read: John 19:16-30

Pray: Jesus, I bring my broken dreams, my broken body, my broken mind, my broken heart and lay them at the foot of the cross. Jesus, even in my brokeness you are with me.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;his mercies never come to an end;they are new every morning;great is your faithfulness.“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,“therefore I will hope in him.” ~Lamentations 3:22-24

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Holy Saturday - Grace and Forgiveness

Read: John 19:38-42

Pray: Jesus, there are moments in my life when it feels as if you are not here. I can feel alone in a crowded room. Come close, Jesus and let me know you are always with me.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.” Psalm 46:1-3

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Easter Sunday - New Beginnings

Read: John 20:11-30

Pray: Jesus, you are my Savior, come into my heart and stay with me forever. Each day is new, death holds no power because you have conquered it and set us free. Help me to live each day with gratitude and hope.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come". 2 Corinthians 5:17

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P.S.

You might be wondering, is Suzanne no longer on hiatus?

Well, it turns out that I miss keeping in touch with all of you. And I’ve begun writing my next novel. (Yay!)

So while that remains my priority, I feel optimistic enough to keep in touch here occasionally.

Instead of Sundays with Suzanne or a complete hiatus, let’s call this Occasional Notes from Suzanne.

Thank you for reading.

God bless you.