A Flying Novena

Linking up with Theology is a Verb for Worth Revisiting:

It is very late at night and I can't sleep despite a busy, busy day. My heart is heavy with the plight of the persecuted and concern for my own country and family.  In Father Apostoli' s book Following Mary to Jesus  he describes how Mother Teresa prayed what she dubbed "a flying novena."  It consisted of nine Memorare prayers prayed in succession for urgent needs.

I am asking all of you, to join me in a Novena of Flying Novenas.  We will begin on Friday, so as to gather as many prayer partners as possible.  I will post the Novena each day along with special intentions, meditations, and prayers. Prayer can move mountains and nothing is impossible for Our God.  Please share this novena with your friends and family. Let us storm Heaven with pleas of deliverance.  If my blog accomplishes nothing else, I pray that it will spread this message to pray that God has laid upon my heart.

Do you remember Flight 800?  It was the jet that exploded over the Hudson river in 1996.  I had a ticket on that flight!  My dream from when I was very small, maybe 3 years old, had been to study in France.  I learned everything I could about the language, nation, and culture. I pleaded with my mother to send me to a boarding school in France, like my heroine Madeline.  I collected every Madeline book and trinket and dreamed of one day strolling down the streets of Paris.  When I was a junior in college, my chance finally came.  I was required to study abroad for my major. My father booked me a non-stop flight to Paris and a three night hotel stay in Paris, so I could live my dream before heading to school in Reims. I could not have been happier!!  Then, the Sunday before my scheduled departure, I had a complete panic attack like no other panic attack in history. I was up the entire night wondering how I could explain to my parents that I couldn't board that plane.  I didn't know why, I couldn't explain it in the least. I still planned to go to school but I just couldn't go early, I couldn't take that flight. My parents were furious, my father tried every ounce of his power to bend my will but I just couldn't change as much as I wanted to.

In a last ditch effort to bring me to my senses, my father told me that if I wouldn't board the flight he had booked me, I could pay for my own ticket over.  Despite my very limited budget and the headache of phone calls to book a new flight, that is what I did and I instead arrived in France a day late. But, I arrived!  My mother and I watched in horror as the news footage showed over and over the devastating crash.  It took me years to get over the guilt of walking away. I would constantly wonder, who took my ticket, who was in my seat?  Did he have children? Was she a wife?  After the survivor guilt began to wane, I realized there was another side to this.  God had spared me. No matter how many times I asked why the others perished, my true answer was He chose that I did not.  I have begged God to show me why, what is my purpose, what is my mission.  I still am searching, I may never fully know this side of Heaven, however, when God keeps me awake, I have learned to "trust and obey" as the children's Bible song says.

So, please join me on this mission.  It may be the one for which  I have asked for 20 years!  " Speak LORD, Your servant is listening!"

God bless!