Remember the Tiny Jesus we were giving away? Here is Tiny Jesus with the Found Cross.
You know those moments when God just shows up? Not in a flashy, part-the-seas kind of way, but in the quiet, unexpected, deeply personal ways that remind you He’s got you?
We had one of those moments recently when my husband was in the emergency room. (He’s fine now, thank God—but that’s a story for another day.) While we were in the hospital, a kind nurse came in to check on us, and I happened to notice she was wearing a Tau cross. Now, if you know, you know.
“Hey,” I said, pointing at the little wooden cross, “are you a Franciscan?”
Her face lit up. “You know what this means?”
A Simple Question, A Big Connection
And just like that, a little spark of faith turned into something much bigger. She immediately went off to find the hospital chaplain so my husband could receive Holy Communion. Enter Fr. Jim—equal parts pastoral and hilarious. He came in, joked with us, prayed with us, and then handed my husband something truly special: a hand-carved wooden cross.
It turns out, a veteran makes these crosses from “found” wood—because, as the Vet explains, we all need to be found. Each cross has a tiny red dot on it, a reminder of the blood Christ shed for us. Simple. Beautiful. Powerful.
A Gift that Keeps Giving
I thought that was the end of it—just a sweet, grace-filled moment. But since that hospital stay, every follow-up appointment in the VA system has revealed something remarkable. Again and again, we’ve encountered that little cross. Nurses have them. Techs have them. And every time we see one, it’s like a joyful little nudge from God saying, I’m still here. I’ve got you.
Isn’t that just like Him? Showing up in the small, ordinary, and completely unexpected ways to remind us we are never alone?
God is good. And sometimes, He leaves little reminders in our path—just when we need them most.
If you’ve ever lived through home renovations, you know how it goes—dust everywhere, constant noise, and the distraction of chaos in what was once a quiet space. We’re tearing down decks and moving walls, all while trying to keep some semblance of normalcy in the process. We haven’t even started painting. It’s messy, inconvenient, and often a frustrating exercise in impatience. But as Advent approaches, I’m starting to see all this chaos in a new light.
Advent is a season of preparation, a time when we ready ourselves for the coming of Christ. It’s kind of like a renovation project for the soul. Just as we tear down and rebuild parts of our homes, Advent invites us to examine our hearts—what needs to be torn down? What needs to be repaired?
What’s the spiritual equivalent of an outdated bathroom? Do I have a shaky deck with rotting boards in my relationships that need mending? Am I mired in emotional clutter taking up space where Christ could dwell?
Setting Priorities
You can imagine how antsy I’m starting to get. I don’t want to enter the holiday season with a house full of unfinished projects. I don’t want to celebrate Christmas out of boxes. While clearing a section of my desk that was filled with scraps of papers, notes to myself, I paused to read the scribbles from scripture that accounted for many of those scraps. Words of encouragement, some of consolation, the occasional observation from a saint. I settled on the following admonition from St. John the Baptist:
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.” (Matthew 3:3)
I love this imagery because it speaks directly to the work of clearing obstacles, making things right, and creating space for what’s to come. That’s what renovations do—they disrupt, but they also renew.
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed in both physical and spiritual renovation. In the house, I keep thinking, When will this end? In Advent, I think, Am I even making progress?
But here’s the beautiful thing: we have Christ, who is the ultimate renovator of our hearts. He comes into our mess, our unfinished work, and makes it beautiful in ways we can’t imagine.
This Advent, as I live amid the dust and noise, I’m letting it remind me to make room in my life for Jesus. To clear the clutter, tear down the walls of my own making, and allow Him to build something new.
Maybe your life feels a little under construction, too. Take heart—this is the perfect season for it. Let’s prepare the way together.
I remember the moment when I became “Mrs. Vicky’s Mom.” It tickled me when my daughter’s classmate, unable to recall our last name, called me by the best way she could remember me, as her friend’s mom.
In a time when I was juggling with so many identities, wife, mother, teacher, daughter, coach, and who knows what else, I not only didn’t take offense, but delighted in the child’s ingenuity, and the dawning realization that perhaps, I was merely an abstract thought for these kids.
It was funny … right up until it wasn’t. As my children got older, and the demands of a growing family got bigger, I found myself struggling with a bit of an identity crisis. Where did these roles end and the real me begin? Acknowledging that the go-go-go of those years were exhausting emotionally as well as physically doesn’t take away from the fact that they were also fulfilling and happy years. I sometimes wonder if making the time for that manicure I passed on or the coffee with a friend I “couldn’t” find time for would have made a small but meaningful difference in the busy-ness of my day as a little stress relief.
Taking Time for Oneself
I love talking with young women, especially young mothers, who are doing a much better job of self-care than I did, than perhaps many women of my generation did. I love to see my adult daughters take time for a fun activity, either by themselves or with friends. I delight in their understanding that taking time for themselves is essential for both their mental health and their physical well-being. It is not selfish to take a small break in the day and breathe. To set aside for a moment the many hats and remember who we are.
It is all the more important to remember whose we are.
See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are. (John 1:3)
If I came late to the realization that I must take time for myself and my interests, I came much later to the understanding that I must also tend carefully to my spiritual needs. Even in this area, I was focused on learning as much as I could about the faith so that I could pass it along to my children. That time was well spent, but I wonder what impact I might have had if I had taken that weekend retreat that seemed so impossible to schedule or gone to the book club on those Tuesday nights when the allure of the comfy couch and whatever distraction was on TV called to me.
An Opportunity for Growth
There is beautiful wisdom in growing older and seeing these things, not as a lament or deep personal criticism, but as opportunity. There is the opportunity to share these thoughts with our children, but there is also the opportunity to apply that wisdom to ourselves, too. What I have learned is meaningful to me now. I am still a mother, navigating relationships with adult children who need less hands-on time from me and perhaps more heart-time, to love them and pray for them. I am learning to be a grandmother, to spend time with these little precious ones in a way that delights them and encourages them to grow in all the many ways they do. And to pray for them, too!
The Importance of Spiritual Growth
As a young woman, I would see the older women in my parish at daily Mass, at daily Rosaries, and suppress a little chuckle at their sibilance in whispered prayers and the jingling of their rosary beads. I laugh out loud today, realizing I have become “the older woman in the pew.” I am happy for it, to be in this new season of life.
And perhaps this is where the real wisdom comes in: I need to tend to my own continuing spiritual well-being. To seek those groups of women with whom I can share these experiences, with whom I can pray, and learn, and let down my hair, and even explore new devotions and new experiences related to growing in relationship with Christ.
I am still wearing many hats: wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, aunt. I wear other hats, too: editor, writer, teacher, friend, whatever-somebody-needs-today. But always I am Maria, child of God.
