Asking Marcel for a Miracle! or How to Pray (Part 2)

From Volume 4 of Marcel Van's Collected Works (Other Writings)

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My Father, Saint Alphonsus!

Today is your feast day, a day of joy for all the Church and above all for the brothers of the Congregation. This morning, from the time of my rising, I welcomed with enthusiasm the dawn of a great happiness . . .

But now, the day has lengthened, the shadow of evening falls and I feel myself invaded by sadness and fatigue. My Father, thanks to you, I spent a great day . . . But, on earth, joyful days are finite. Necessarily, these joys come from heaven and my tired body can no longer support them.

I wish, therefore, for a life and a joy without end in the eternal country. Yes, I wish to go and rejoin you soon, but in spite of all of the ardour of my desire, all that remains for me is to rely on your intercession.        - August 2, 1954

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O Mary, your child, Marcel, feels truly happy! And he owes this happiness to your maternal heart. Yes there is nothing I wish for in secret and in calmness that is not fully granted. It is the obvious sign that, in spite of my littleness, Jesus, my heart's friend, spoils me to this extent.     - August 11, 1954

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From the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (45: 5-8)

I am the Lord and there is no other, there is no God besides Me.
It is I who arm you, though you know Me not, 
So that toward the rising and the setting of the sun
Men may know that there is none besides Me.

I am the Lord, there is no other; 
I form the light, and create the darkness.
I make well-being and create woe;
I, the Lord do all these things.

Let justice descend, O heavens, like dew from above,
Like gentle rain let the skies drop it down.
Let the earth open and salvation bud forth;
Let justice also spring up!
I, the Lord, have created this.          

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It is I who bring death and I who give life.
I inflict injury and I bring healing, alleluia!     (antiphon from Easter season, Divine Office)

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I am off to get a blood test and a chest x-ray, and I am smiling and so excited!
Forgive me for being strange, but let's get this out on the table:

1. I am an extrovert
2. I love doctors, nurses, hospitals, medical offices, receptionists, other patients, et al.
3. I have been waiting to see Jesus for a very long time, and yet I love miracles, not to mention ordinary medical interventions . . .

So this new diagnosis I have of (boring, non-life-threatening, friendly - i.e., non-agressive) breast cancer is, as far as I can see, win, win, win!

Might I point out that I am as illogical as any other human being (especially any other woman), despite having achieved a perfect score on the Logic portion of the GRE. Yes, that was many moons ago, and yes, they did nix that section of the GRE, possibly due to inaccuracy in the correlation of test score to actual logical ability. But hey, if you tell me 14 things about 16 people to be seated for a party and then ask me to seat them in their happiest places, 10 times out of 10 I'm going to get a perfect score in empathy! If you call it Logic, I salute you (and get into grad school, and then my boyfriend who is also accepted because he IS the Logician can propose, and the rest is happily ever after history).

But let's get back to the point here. I know it doesn't make sense to be super happy when you're told you have breast cancer, but I've been on cloud 9!

We could review my top 2 excuses above (extrovert who likes interventive medical world and its people), but I think the 3rd one is the charmer. I can't see how to get to Jesus unless He opens a window, and this looked like a window.

Before you get too excited, let me finish the story.
I did what any sane person would do - I gripped the window to pull myself up (let's ignore for the moment that my pulling-up skills leave much to be desired) - and Jesus did a kind of typical God thing and closed the window on my fingers! Not hard, but just enough to let me know there would be no climbing through this time around.

So there I was awaiting my diagnostic mammogram. That comes after your regular mammogram. They send you a text and email on the Saturday of a 3-day weekend saying cheeerfully, "Call us back as soon as possible!" and then they, naturally, aren't there to answer so you, naturally, freak out and then promptly join a class action law suit against annoying mega-radiology-corporations with lots of technology and no heart.

Or, better yet, you know they are calling you back for something silly, so you don't worry about it. I chose that option, though the freak out and sue seemed more fitting for a California girl like me. No matter, I called Tuesday, talked to a really sweet woman in a foreign country, and found out they saw something that warranted a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound, and they could fit me into their busy schedule three months later.

Huh.
Just do it (thanks, Nike!).
Just say no (thanks, Nancy).
Stop, drop, and roll (yes, I am a native and grew up in earthquake country).
Early detection (sponsored by the world of pink).

One of these is not like the others.
Well, okay, Nike's and Nancy's really need to be fit into the context of a larger prudent decision.
I can't remember when I'm supposed to stop, drop, and roll. I think that must be when I'm on fire, not when I'm in an earthquake - though in an earthquake (and I've been in many, though one of the best in Virginia, so it's not just a California thing), what I've found most successful is to look out the window at a pool (if there happens to be one nearby) and see if the water is sloshing. That is super cool AND lets you know if it's actually an earthquake or you've had one of those little crystal balancing things in your ear dislodge . . .

Gosh, I seem to be getting off topic.

What I want to say, though, is that "early detection" as a pithy mantra is quite effective in helping not to die of cancer if you follow the early detection with more early detection. Such as:

Radiology lab: "Hello, we were trying to detect, nice and early, if you might have breast cancer. We think you possibly could, but don't worry, it's probably just a smudge on our lens."

Me: "Okay, what do I do next?"

Radiology lab: "How about you come in for a more fancy picture."

Me: "Sure. My schedule is completely open for the rest of my life. When would you like me there for my photo op?"

Radiology lab: "Hmmm. We have bought up every radiology lab in California except one, so we're available to take your pictures in . . . how about 7 years from next Saturday? At a location pretty inconvenient and far away?"

Me: "Let me check my calendar . . ."

So I go to church. That's what we like to do in my neck of the woods. Super nice priests, great Holy Mass, lots of Jesus to go around, friends who are there to chat afterward. In the afterward chat out in the sunny courtyard of the church, I mention the foregoing dialog to a friend. She says, "Oh! I happen to know the place they didn't buy and it is lovely. Why don't you get your next photos there?"

And thanks to M-K and her timely advice, I do!
I get an appointment that's much sooner and much closer than Mega-Corp had available and I go.
They are very nice, and they are happy to diagnose me with - the need for more testing.
That works for me as my schedule is still wide open.
Except . . . "Sorry to say, I know this is a bummer, but Mega-Corp bought us and are taking over immediately. So we can't actually schedule the test you need that we would normally do in a week. Come back in 7 years."

Hmmmm.

I did what we all must do in situations like this. I emailed my friend who was dying of breast cancer until the doctors told her she wasn't at all. She really likes these doctors! They must do photo ops there too, I imagined. They did! I got her place - which was bought up by UCLA so is less likely to also be bought up again by Mega Corps - and I went in a week, and they told me a few days later the exciting news. It is the real deal! Not pre-cancer. Not a shadow or smudge. But actually breast cancer.

This is good and bad.
The window opens, but then it shuts again.
This is easy to treat, let's just get rid of that lump and maybe zap you a little with the nice stuff that makes you tired (I like being tired! Then I can sit down and rest. We have a lot of comfy couches and chairs and beds in my house. I hesitate to tell you how many lest you send some agency over to confiscate them). None of that icky stuff that makes you lose hair or feel sick (I'm not a big fan of feeling sick. And incidentally I have felt nothing uncomfortable at all so far. This is a great kind of cancer).

I know, I know.
I am not supposed to be thrilled to have cancer. Or maybe the better way to put it is that I am not supposed to be thrilled by the prospect of death - or rather entrance into eternal life - but what can I say? A good Catholic liberal education goes a long way, and it seems to me St. Augustine was right that we can't be called truly blessed unless it lasts forever. Marcel said the same thing at the top of this post. So let's all go to Heaven, where the bliss never ends!

Except.
Marcel can be so annoying, telling me the truth everywhere I turn in his books (and wow, I love his books! Thank you Jack for translating them!) . . .and here's what he's been telling me ever since I found out I have this very curable cancer that won't actually be life threatening and get me to Heaven yet. (Sigh. Of Love. More work here below, it looks like!)

I should preface this by mentioning that St. Alphonsus was right. He was Marcel's spiritual father since he was the founder of the Redemptorists and Marcel was a Redemptorist brother (as in "Brother Marcel Van"). And today is his feast, so at the top of our post we put a couple great quotes from this gentle giant who loved people so much that he reformed moral theology and came up with ways to help us all get rid of our scrupulosity. Thank you, St. Alphonsus!

So what was St. Alphonsus right about that I'm thinking of now?
Exactly what he says in our quotes above:

It's the conversation with Christ that really cements our friendship with Him.
God stoops down - even to the extent of becoming man so we can rub shoulders with Him - and we pour out our hearts. That's what delights Him, no matter how big or small our stories are. We tell Him everything - at least He wants to hear everything - and He listens with attentive love. And sometimes He talks back, whether through Scripture, nature, the saints' writings, our imaginations, or a word from our friends.

That's exactly how Marcel's life with Christ unfolded - in a series of conversations. 

My favorites are in his book called Conversations with Jesus, Mary, and Therese of the Child Jesus, or (in brief) simply Conversations, but recently I found this little snippet of a dialogue in his Other Writings from a conversation Marcel and Jesus had May 29, 1951:

Marcel: If truly I have not been deceived, why, when I hear You say to me unceasingly that You will come soon to take me to paradise, why do I not see anything happen?

Jesus: It is also necessary, Marcel, that you understand this: when one has undertaken an important work which is not yet finished, is it appropriate to leave it to one side to go and rest? Now, your personal work is not yet accomplished . . . 

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Ah, yes. Bummer!

There are 4 people very close to me, one tall and super logical, a second who makes me laugh a ton, a third as zany as the second and recently a beloved, indispensable member of our family, and a fourth who's just the greatest guy in the world. 

They all agree and insist that my personal work isn't done, and they should know since they're the ones God has given me to work for (if you can call it work, and sometimes you can).

So I'm here for a while longer (probably a very long while), and that means I need to create some drama (since the breast cancer thing was a red herring in the drama department).

How about we ask Marcel for a miracle?
He needs one to advance his cause for beatification.
I have one ready for the plucking.

Marcel, obtain from Almighty God the cure of my cancer - instantaneously and permanently - if you want to get a feather in your cap and a little shove toward canonization. Amen.

Here is a longer prayer (for those who like longer prayers) because in order for a miracle to count toward a prospective saint's progress and cause, it must be documented. That is, we must document that I'm sick with cancer (check) and then we must document that we prayed to Marcel, not just every or any friendly saint and angel (that would be all of them) for my cure. It is up to Marcel to be the one to whisper our request - or shout it, depending on his mood and the volume of angelic singing up there - into little Jesus' ear as they sit on Mary's lap together. So here goes, our official "we are invoking Servant of God Marcel Van's intercession for a miracle" prayer:

Prayer for the Beatification of the Vietnamese spiritual little brother of St Therese,
Servant of God Marcel Van:

Infinitely good Father,
You have given Marcel Van the mission of changing suffering into joy.
Inspired by the saints and comforted by the maternal solicitude of the Blessed Mother,
he totally surrendered himself to Your Love.

O sweet Jesus, grant that we may be inspired by Marcel, joyful through love, to follow him along St Therese's Little Way with simplicity and an unshakeable confidence in Your Love.

Holy Spirit of Love, attracted by Marcel's weakness, You set him on fire with Love.
Grant, we pray, that the Church may one day soon proclaim his sanctity, and please give us the grace we ask of You through his intercession, namely Suzie's complete, instantaneous, and lasting cure from cancer.

We ask this through Jesus' adorable and powerful name. Amen.

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Draw me, we will run!!!

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P.S. Lest this post and project seem, in any way, discouraging to you (although it is not at all for me), let me remind you that it is the feast of our father St. Alphonsus de Ligouri, and in his honor we must, therefore, ply ourselves and each other with feasting essentials. Choose from the following list as many as you can manage according to your personal preferences, time, ability, desires, and taste!