The Heritage Journal
-
-
-
-
Holy Week from the Back Porch
As I sit on the back porch and look at all the flowers and new growth, I am amazed at the beauty God has placed around us. My wife and I end each day here together, praying the rosary as the backyard slowly settles into evening.
On the right side of our yard we have a vegetable garden. On St. Patrick's Day we picked a large head of cabbage to cook with the corned beef — one of those small rituals that marks the turning of the season.
Last night as we were praying, a red cardinal appeared. Normally we see them at the bird feeder, but this one came closer than usual — almost as if reaching out to us. We believe that when a cardinal appears, an angel is near. The angel in our life is our son.
The garden also stirs old memories. As a child, my mother always planted her potatoes on Good Friday. She wasn't even Catholic, but she always knew when Good Friday had come, and she knew it was time to plant.
As we move through Holy Week, beginning with Palm Sunday, I hope you find a moment to let God speak to you — in the flowers, in the new growth, in the quiet places where you least expect it.
-
-
-
The desert is not the Destination
Palm Sunday is almost here.
As I look back over these forty days, I find myself asking some honest questions: Have I really changed? Am I doing anything differently than I was at the start of this journey? Am I a better person?
We began in a desert — literally, in Haiti — and in many ways, the desert has been our companion ever since. But look around. The flowers are blooming. Life is pushing through. Because that's what Lent has always been trying to tell us: the desert leads somewhere.
Life is not a bed of roses, and I won't pretend otherwise. There are thorns — real ones — and I have seen and felt my share. But as the readings reminded us this morning, it was never really about the snakes. It was always about faith.
That's why this stump is so important.
It's from a banana tree we had last year. When the cold came, it killed the plant, and I cut it down to nothing. Just a stump. I thought it was over.
But then something happened. One small green shoot appeared. Then another. And another. Now there are seven shoots, all reaching upward toward heaven — from something I had written off as dead.
That stump is my Lenten journey. Stripped down. Cut back. Looking finished.
And yet — new life.
We walk through the desert, and on the other side, something is growing that wasn't there before.
Maybe that's the whole point.
-
-
-
Is it Real?
As we journey through this sacred season of Lent, let us pause and reflect - is our spiritual path truly authentic? Or are we simply going through the motions?
I remember a time when I was so focused on providing for my family that I lost sight of what really mattered. My work became more about being in charge and directing others than about serving a greater purpose. It wasn't until my tax accountant, after many years of service, shared her own revelation, "I've finally realized what's truly important in life," she said. "I'm retiring to spend time with my family.
What she said really hit home. It forced me to stop and consider what actually matters—especially during Lent—and ask myself: is my prayer life actually real?
Recently, I was talking to Fran, a volunteer at the gift shop who is also a Master Gardener. I mentioned that my wife's Amaryllis had a beautiful pink flower with a tinge of blue. Fran gently corrected me, explaining that a blue Amaryllis is simply impossible.
Returning home, I took a closer look and she was right - the flower was a stunning pink, without a hint of blue. But in that moment, I truly saw its beauty in a way I hadn't before.
I think our prayer life, especially during Lent, gives us reason to pause and as Father Al said during daily mass last week ,”Listen”, just listen. When we listen to our spouse, listen to our kids, listen to our heart we will be amazed at what we hear.
But I will take it a step further, when we listen to nature, when we listen to what the flowers are saying, “I am just a pink Amaryllis, but I am beautiful.
This Lent, may we find the courage to pause, to listen, and to see the profound beauty that surrounds us. In doing so, we may just uncover the true meaning of prayer and the fullness of life.
-
-
-
Surprises in the Middle of Lent
You never quite know what you may find in the middle of Lent. That sacred season of fasting and prayer can feel like a long, quiet walk through grey winter days — and then, almost without warning, something stops you in your tracks. Sometimes it’s a stronger prayer life quietly taking root. Sometimes it’s God’s beauty, hiding in the most ordinary of places, waiting to be noticed.
This year, Easter came a little early to the Patton backyard.
Since Lent began, I’ve been watching this flower. My wife planted it, tended it, and waited on it — and day by day I found myself checking in on it too, almost as a small act of faith. A little green shoot. Then a stem. Then a bud, tightly wound and full of quiet promise. And then, this week, it opened. Fully, boldly, brilliantly red — right there against the old wooden fence.
There’s something deeply fitting about that. Lent, after all, isn’t only about giving things up. It’s about paying attention. It’s about slowing down enough to notice what God is already doing — in the quiet corners of our lives, in a backyard garden, in the patience of a flower that blooms on its own schedule and not ours.
The amaryllis doesn’t know it’s Lent. It doesn’t fast. It doesn’t pray. It simply does what it was created to do: grow toward the light, open up, and be beautiful. And maybe that’s its quiet lesson for those of us who are watching.
Are we growing toward the light? Are we willing to open up — even now, even here, in the middle of a season that asks hard things of us?
I don’t know where you are in your Lenten journey this year. Maybe it has been rich and fruitful. Maybe it has felt dry, distracted, or hard to sustain. Either way, I’d encourage you to look around — really look. Easter may already be peeking out from the corners of your life, brighter and more insistent than you expected.
After all, that’s always been God’s specialty: making beauty bloom where we least expect it.
-
-
-
Tending the Hidden Garden
We are in the Second week of Lent and moving into the third week of Lent, and if I’m being honest—I don’t feel much different yet.
I have to remind myself that Lent is a spiritual springtime, even if the view out our windows tells a different story. Right now, the ground feels cold and the branches look bare. If your prayer life feels a bit "wintery" at the moment, take heart: Lent is a season of preparation, not an event you simply attend.
Lessons from a Lens
Last year, I took a photography course at Santa Fe College. My focus for the class was my wife’s backyard garden. During the spring and summer, the yard is a photographer’s dream with all the various flowers and all the color. I even learned how to "stop time" with water droplets in one of my shots!
But now, in the heart of the dormant season, the garden is brown and quiet. I find myself checking the dirt, impatiently waiting for the Russian Sage to show its purple flowers and the banana trees to begin growing again.
The Bud in the Pot
The other day, I noticed a single flower pot with one tiny, stubborn bud. I’ve been taking photos of it daily, documenting its slow-motion journey toward blooming.
For me, Lent is a lot like that bud. It looks dormant on the outside, but the real work is happening beneath the surface. My wife tenderly mends the soil, adding water and fertilizer to encourage what we cannot yet see.
In these middle weeks of Lent, your prayer life might feel dormant, too. But every time you pick up your Rosary, every time you offer up a prayer for someone else, you are "mending the soil." You might not see the change in the mirror, but God sees the growth in your soul.
The "Fast" and the Curious
I’ll admit, my fasting routine still has a lot to be desired! Sure, I’m skipping meat on Fridays, but I’m starting to realize fasting is about more than just what’s on my plate. It’s about clearing the weeds to make room for the roots.
This week, don’t worry if you don’t "feel" a sudden transformation. Lent is a time for the roots. Just as my wife tends the soil to encourage growth, we are invited to do the "underground work"—anchoring ourselves in five minutes of silence or the steady rhythm of a well-worn wooden Rosary. We are building the hidden strength we’ll need to carry us into the joy of Easter.
Trusting the Master Gardener
Gardens don’t bloom overnight, (I sure wish they would) and neither do we. I’ve been waiting weeks for that one bud to open, and it’s still just a bud.
This is a forty-day season of patient tending. If the soil of your spirit feels dry, trust the process. You are a garden in waiting, and God is the Master Gardener who never misses a season. Keep a lookout for the "first green shoots" this week—a little extra patience with a neighbor or a sprout of gratitude on a busy day.
Those aren't just accidents; they are proof that your Lenten cultivation is working.
See you in church!
-
-
-
Finding Hope in the Desert
As Ash Wednesday marked our entrance into our desert, I found myself drawn back to a journey through a very different kind of desert — Haiti.
One afternoon, as our group made our way through a small village, we came upon children playing soccer in the street. They were laughing, full of energy, unbothered by the world around them. Watching them, I thought of my own grandchildren back in Alabama and Florida, and I turned to Father Reggie and asked, "What do the children here dream about?"
His answer stopped me cold. "They do not dream," he said simply. "In order to dream, you have to have hope — and they have no hope."
That exchange has stayed with me as I reflect on this first week of Lent and the road still ahead of us. As we hear Peter cry out in Sunday's Gospel, "Lord, it is good that we are here," I believe that is exactly right — it is good that we are here, in this desert season. But we are not here alone. We walk with our Saints, and we walk with Jesus himself. That is where hope begins.
And hope, once found, is meant to be shared.
On another trip to Haiti, I spent a warm afternoon at a local hospital with a bag of balloons. For those few hours, a group of children were filled with laughter and lightness — a small thing, but a real one, creating animal balloons. They even taught me how to say “dog” in Creole. What moved me most, though, was a moment near the end of the afternoon. A little girl arrived late, and I had run out of balloons. Before I could say a word, one of the older girls quietly spoke up: "I have two. You can have one of mine."
That was the whole reason we were there — to share what we have, to offer a little hope to someone who needs it. And in the end, it was a child who taught us how.
If you've been following The Chosen, there's a scene in Season 3, Episode 5 that captures this spirit beautifully. It's where we meet Veronica — a woman of active, purposeful faith. She doesn't drift through the crowd; she moves with intention. The crowd jostles. Faith touches.
We have walked into the desert, faced our temptations, and found — maybe to our own surprise — that we are still standing. Now comes the invitation to reach outward. It doesn't have to be grand. A smile for someone who is struggling. A hug on a hard day. A home-cooked meal for a lonely neighbor.
Be purposeful. Be faithful. Give someone a little hope this week — you may find, like I did in Haiti, that the giving changes you just as much as it changes them.
It is good that we are here. Now let's make it matter.
-
-
-
Into the Desert: Forty Days of Grace
The desert has always been sacred ground. From the Israelites’ forty-year wandering to Christ’s forty days of fasting, the barren landscape is where we encounter God, stripped of all distractions. This Lent, we are invited into that holy wilderness—not to wander, but to consecrate ourselves to the One who meets us there.
In 2014, I was lucky enough to accompany a team of skilled nurses and doctors on a medical mission to Jean-Rabel, Haiti. As we were riding Father Reggie asked if I was OK and as I looked out the window and saw this desert (photo above), I knew it was no coincidence that God put me there on Ash Wednesday, 2014 and who would have ever thought that you could find a desert in Haiti. Well, God made sure I found my “desert”.
The Desert as Teacher
In the desert, there is nowhere to hide. It strips away the superfluous, revealing what truly sustains us. Whether in the literal sands of a mission trip to Haiti or the metaphorical quiet of our own lives, the desert asks: Is our faith built on the solid rock of relationship or the shifting sands of comfort?
Our Forty Days of Refinement
Lent mirrors Christ’s experience. Scripture tells us the Spirit led Him into the desert (Matthew 4:1). This wasn't punishment; it was preparation. Through fasting, prayer, and almsgiving, we create "interior desert space." We clear out the noise and the idols to awaken our souls. This is the heart of consecration—setting ourselves apart and returning to our First Love.
Walking with the Saints
We don’t journey alone. The Church offers the communion of saints as spiritual mentors. Consider choosing a "companion saint" for these forty days:
Saint Teresa of Ávila: A guide for when the spiritual life feels dry, reminding us that God works even in aridity.
Saint Thérèse of Lisieux: The master of the "little way," perfect for those facing doubt or the "dark night of the soul."
Consecrating Ourselves Anew
To consecrate is to set apart for a sacred purpose. It begins with a simple morning prayer: "Lord, this day is Yours." It continues by choosing silence over podcasts, Scripture over scrolling, and surrender over control.
The desert invites uncomfortable questions: What am I living for? Whom do I really worship? Consecration is our daily answer.
When the wilderness grows difficult and prayer feels dry, remember that Christ is there. The Spirit that led Him leads you, too. The desert is demanding, but it is also where the barren place begins to bloom. On the other side lies Easter—the promise that losing our life for Christ’s sake means finding it renewed and whole.
This Lent, St. Anthony Gift Shop invites you to choose a saint companion for your desert journey. Browse our collection of statues, medals, blessing bracelets, and prayer cards to find the spiritual friend who will walk beside you through these forty days of grace.
-
-
-
In the rush of our daily lives, it’s so easy to keep our heads down and miss the quiet wonders happening right around us. As the manager of St. Anthony Gift Shop, I feel incredibly blessed; my "office" is tucked away in a place where God’s beauty is on full display every single day.
A Lesson from the Backyard
This past weekend, I was out in the yard with our two dogs. My wife has a gift for growing beautiful flowers, but between the winter chill and the recent weather, most of the garden looks dormant. Yet, as I looked through the debris, I spotted it: a single, vibrant pink flower blooming defiantly amidst the dead grass. It was a small, bright reminder that God is always at work, even when things look a bit "gray" on the surface.
A Journey to the Chapel
I saw that same beauty reflected in a different way this week at Queen of Peace. I met a couple new to our parish who were quietly praying in the back of the church.
I told them about our adoration chapels, and it was a joy to pause and walk with them—first to our Family Adoration Chapel and then to my personal favorite, the adoration chapel behind the altar. Seeing their faces light up reminded me that our mission isn't just about "things"—it’s about the grace found in new friendships and shared faith.
Visit Us at St. Anthony Gift Shop
Our shop exists to foster these exact kinds of connections. Whether it’s a small token of friendship or a beautiful piece of art, we believe that meaningful gifts help us celebrate the beauty that exists in every season of life.
We invite you to stop by the St. Anthony Gift Shop this week. We are open on Wednesday 10:30 - 12:30 & 1:30-3:30 and on Thu and Fri from 8:30-12:30 and 1:30-3:30 and before and after each weekend mass. Come say hello, share a story of a "bright bloom" you’ve found in your own life lately, and see the new treasures we have in store. We can't wait to see you!
-
-
-
In our mission at St. Anthony Gift Shop, we talk about "celebrating the grace of God." This past Sunday, Grace walked into the shop in the form of a young man with a very specific goal and only five dollars.
As I shared in my recent email, this young man had his heart set on a particular piece: the Tiny Saints Carlo Acutis Bracelet by My Saint My Hero. When he realized he was short on funds, he didn't complain; he simply hung his head and started to walk away to return the "treasure" to the shelf.
When I told him it was "on sale" for exactly what he had in his pocket, the look in his eyes wasn't just relief—it was joy.
Who was Carlo Acutis?
It is no coincidence that the young man was drawn to Blessed Carlo Acutis. Carlo was a teenager just like him—he loved video games, computer programming, and hanging out with friends. But he also had a "Heritage" of his own: he used his tech skills to document Eucharistic miracles, famously saying:
"To always be close to Jesus, that's my life plan."
A Meaningful Connection
The bracelet this young man bought is part of the Blessing Bracelet collection. Every time he looks at his wrist, he isn't just wearing a piece of jewelry; he is wearing a reminder that a "cool" teenager can also be a Saint.
Like Carlo, this young man showed us that the most "meaningful gifts" aren't defined by their price tag, but by the intention behind them. He wanted to honor a connection, and God provided a way for that to happen.
A Prayer for Our Youth
Lord, we ask for the intercession of Blessed Carlo Acutis. May he guide the young people of our parish to find joy in their faith, and may we always have hearts as humble and pure as the young man who visited us this Sunday. Amen.
You may view the Tiny Saints Carlo Acutis Bracelet here or visit our shop in person to see it. It's really more than $5.00
-
