How can I, mindful of the centuries-long wisdom of synodal living and the reverent care that humanity has long shown toward creation, remain open to God’s will for my son Daniel—whom I desperately long and pray will be healed through a miracle by the intercession of the Venerable Fulton J. Sheen—even as I prepare for the possibility of his passing, all while hearing the Gospel’s question, “How long will I be with you❓”
Gospel
As Jesus came down from the mountain with Peter, James, John
and approached the other disciples,
they saw a large crowd around them and scribes arguing with them.
Immediately on seeing him,
the whole crowd was utterly amazed.
They ran up to him and greeted him.
He asked them, “What are you arguing about with them❓”
Someone from the crowd answered him,
“Teacher, I have brought to you my son possessed by a mute spirit.
Wherever it seizes him, it throws him down;
he foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth, and becomes rigid.
I asked your disciples to drive it out, but they were unable to do so.”
He said to them in reply,
“O faithless generation, how long will I be with you❓
How long will I endure you❓ Bring him to me.”
They brought the boy to him.
And when he saw him,
the spirit immediately threw the boy into convulsions.
As he fell to the ground, he began to roll around
and foam at the mouth.
Then he questioned his father,
“How long has this been happening to him❓”
He replied, “Since childhood.
It has often thrown him into fire and into water to kill him.
But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”
Jesus said to him,
“‘If you can!’ Everything is possible to one who has faith.”
Then the boy’s father cried out, “I do believe, help my unbelief!”
Jesus, on seeing a crowd rapidly gathering,
rebuked the unclean spirit and said to it,
“Mute and deaf spirit, I command you:
come out of him and never enter him again!”
Shouting and throwing the boy into convulsions, it came out.
He became like a corpse, which caused many to say, “He is dead!”
But Jesus took him by the hand, raised him, and he stood up.
When he entered the house, his disciples asked him in private,
“Why could we not drive the spirit out❓”
He said to them, “This kind can only come out through prayer.”
Lectio Divina on the Word “long“
For as long as I can remember, I have tried to walk in faith, trusting in God’s providence even when the path was uncertain. It has been a long journey, filled with joys and sorrows, and now I find myself in a season of waiting—longing for a miracle for my son Daniel through the intercession of the Venerable Fulton J. Sheen. I hold onto hope, but I also know that faith is not about controlling the outcome; it is about remaining steadfast in trust, no matter how long the night may seem.
The long history of the Church reminds me that we do not walk alone. Saints, apostles, and faithful believers have endured trials, have wrestled with suffering, and have learned to surrender to God’s greater plan. Even Pope Francis speaks of the long-standing relationship between humanity and creation, where for so long we lived in harmony with nature, receiving its gifts with gratitude rather than taking them for granted. In this same way, I strive to receive each day as a gift, whether long or short, knowing that all things unfold in God’s perfect time.
their centuries-long history, the various forms of consecrated life elaborated what we now
recognize as practices of synodal living. These include how to practice discernment in common
and to harmonize together individual gifts as well as pursue mission in common.
At The Glenn, the robins have returned, a sign that winter will not last long and that spring is drawing near. Their presence stirs something deep within me, a reminder that even after the harshest cold, life renews itself. I watch them and wonder: Will this season bring the miracle I so long for, or is it leading me into a different kind of renewal, one that requires letting go❓ However long I have with Daniel, I must cherish each moment and trust in the unseen work of grace.
My longing for my son’s healing is as deep as a father’s love can be. But love, I am reminded, is not measured by how long we have with someone but by how well we have loved them. In that love, I must remain faithful—whether I am granted a long-awaited miracle or called to walk a road of sorrow. Love does not count the days; it simply gives itself fully, without reservation.
And so, I continue to pray, to hope, and to trust, even when the waiting feels unbearably long. I do not know how much time remains, only that I must use it well. And in the quiet of my heart, I hear the question that Jesus asked so long ago and still asks today:
Men and women have constantly intervened in nature, but for a long time this meant being in tune with and respecting the possibilities offered by the things themselves. It was a matter of receiving what nature itself allowed, as if from its own hand.
FROM PARAGRAPH 106 OF THE ENCYCLICAL LETTER LAUDATO SI’ OF THE HOLY FATHER FRANCIS ON CARE FOR OUR COMMON HOME