Geeky Catholic Dad

Several months ago, my sister-in-law and her husband lost a daughter to miscarriage. When I heard the name they gave to their daughter - Maria Esperanza - I was inspired to write about the virtue of hope ("esperanza" is Spanish for "hope"). I have been struggling since then to put this post together. There are so many questions to answer. What does it mean to hope? How can you have hope in God when it seems like He only sends you suffering? Does a miscarriage prove that your hope was in vain? But after months of putting it off, I've finally put pen to paper (finger to keyboard? electrical impulse to web server?). I'd like to dedicate this post to Maria Esperanza and her parents.

Source: Wikimedia Commons If they celebrated the scrutiny rites for RCIA elect at your Mass today, then you most likely heard the account of the resurrection of Lazarus during the gospel reading. A year ago, I wrote a reflection on that gospel reading. I'm re-publishing that reflection today, both for those who heard that reading today, and anyone else who's interested.

Source: Wikimedia Commons The gospel reading for this past Sunday is the account of the resurrection of Lazarus, from John's Gospel. Once again, I had a chance to assist with RCIA (see my previous post for an explanation of what that is), which allowed me to reflect more on the Mass readings than I usually do. This passage has all kinds of significance for Christians, as it emphasizes the dogma of the resurrection of the body "on the last day." But it also has a special meaning for me as someone who has lost children, because of Martha's statement: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

Dear Elliot, Happy birthday. Your mommy and I miss you so much. One year ago, I saw you for the first time. I remember seeing your perfect little fingers and toes, and your beautiful eyes. But you had already gone to heaven to be with Jesus.

One of the reasons I started writing about my grief was because it helped me to process things. But I also wanted to share my thoughts and feelings on the matter with other grieving fathers and mothers, so that they might know that they are not alone. In order to further help these fathers and mothers, I have created a page on this site called "Miscarriage Resources." You can find it in the navigation bar at the top of the site. (For those viewing on your smartphone, just click the grey bar that says "Home," and you'll see a list of pages, including the new "Miscarriage Resources" page.)

I recently watched all of the Rocky movies - and 2015's  Creed - on Amazon Prime. It was only my second time seeing Rocky , and my first time seeing the rest of them. So admittedly, I am late to the party here. These movies are fantastic, and after seeing them I just had to write about them. I was originally going to write about all seven films, but once I got started, I ended up writing a lot more on each movie than I'd planned. So we'll just keep it to Rocky  and Rocky II . This post will have spoilers, but I figure that's not a huge deal, because these movies are over 30 years old.

Dear Lucy, Happy Feast Day. I wish you were here to celebrate with us. Sometimes, when I visit your grave, I try talking to you. But it's always been a bit weird. Maybe it's because your grave isn't really where you are. Somehow, writing a letter feels more natural to me.

The following is a letter I wrote to all fathers who have suffered a loss. It appears in a new book, From Father to Father: Letters from Loss Dad to Loss Dad , by Emily R. Long, which was just released on Monday. In honor of the book's release, I would like to share this letter with all of you, and encourage you to pick up the book to read the rest of the letters.

Those of you who have read my first blog post, or the "About the Blog" page, know that my wife and I have lost two babies - Lucy and Elliot - to miscarriage. You may also know that we are now expecting our fourth child (due at the end of January). So with everything we've gone through, and are going through now, there are a lot of thoughts - hopes, fears, frustrations - going through my head.