Rainy Sunday

It's been over two years since I posted. There are "reasons," of course, but I've finally come to terms with the fact that I have a full time job, 3 pets, three kids still at home and one I'm still parenting away from home and my house will NEVER be clean! So I might as well write.

Here I am. I am here on a rainy Sunday when so many are hurting. Bennie said, "The angels are really crying today." Many are wounded by recent events in the church. So many are walking away from their faith because of the few but very public and very deceived and deceitful people who let evil guide them into wrong acts and then covered them up and justified them for years and decades. Like you, I am disgusted. I am outraged. I am broken-hearted.

Today Father Tom reminded us that nothing we read on Facebook or in our email or hear on the news can bring us peace. We keep turning on the news hoping someone will say something that will somehow make us feel better and it all just gets worse. There is no movement or act or even court that can set this straight.

For the victims, the past cannot un-happen. I can't imagine the level of betrayal when it is a member of the clergy who is abusing you, but it must be on a very grand scale. If anything I could do could take away one moment of their pain or suffering (past, present or future), I would not hesitate to volunteer to do so and yet, I know this is a path each must walk for himself.
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In today's reading from Isaiah, we are reassured,

Be strong, fear not!
Here is your God,
he comes with vindication:
with driving recompense
he comes to save you.

I am not saying that to victims of priestly abuse. I'm fully aware that words are not nearly enough. I'm reminding myself: I am not in charge. We are not in charge. God is coming with vindication. Our charge is to love and -- like the deaf man in today's gospel -- to open our ears and our mouths.

We must continue to hear the truth and then speak on behalf of all abused and oppressed persons and speak out against their abusers. There can be no excuse. We are called to love and a call to love is a call to action. We cannot sit passively by. We must not turn a blind eye any longer. As a people, we must not turn a blind eye any longer. As a people, we must rest until we are confident that we have driven this out into the light once and for all and that it can never again gain a foothold.

The Crossroads

Recently, I dreamed I was standing at a crossroads in a huge windstorm; I was literally standing there in the middle with the way behind me and 3 seemingly identical options in front of me. It was mid-morning but the wind and the blowing dust obscuring the sun made time seem inconsequential. There were no road signs, no traffic, and all three roads looked pretty much the same.  I feel anxious, now, writing about it, but in my dream, I was calm, centered, just standing in the crux of the looming decision.

I don't remember anything else. I suspect the dream was brought on by Robert Frost's famous poem, "The Road Not Taken" which I had recently discussed with my children. My crossroads, however, was far less inviting than Frost's, yet neither was it desolate nor foreboding. It simply was. It was me and a choice and a fate neither apparently sublime nor ignoble. It was clearly an every day choice and yet that moment of hesitation -- or perhaps surrender -- at the crossroads tells the same story as Frost's; it was a way forward that while neither good nor bad, was somehow permanent.

In retrospect, I have been at a crossroads, and it is one I believe is central to our faith; not just my faith as a Catholic or my faith as a Christian; it's at the core of our humanity. For the last 6 weeks, I have been reading articles and books and watching videos about scarcity and abundance, about waste and stewardship. This has been a convicting journey, indeed.

On the eve of Easter, on the cusp, this is the result of my Lenten journey. I stand at the crux of the decision and when the eggs are filled and the baskets laid on the table, I will go to bed to awake tomorrow committed anew to a new/old path; one of simplicity and perhaps at times austerity; most certainly it will be one of authenticity and that is what matters to me.

Happy Easter.

PS -- a few videos, in particular, have impacted me in this rending of heart; all are available on Netflix or Amazon Prime video. Here they are in no particular order;

Living on One Dollar 
Just Eat It
Poor Kids by Frontline
A Place at the Table
Fed Up

Epiphanies and Resolutions

I love the Feast of Epiphany . . . and not just because I can take my tree down, which I still haven't. I love Epiphany because it reminds me that each of us has something to offer by way of sacrifice or, in a timely way, by resolution. As Father Michael talked Sunday about renewing our relationship with God, I kept thinking about the verses of "In the Bleak Midwinter:"

What can I bring him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; 
If I were a wise man, I would do my part; 
Yet what I can, I give him . . .
Give my heart. 

You know me. I'm prone to sentimentality and over-sincerity. It's part weakness and part dramatic behavior. I'm so attracted to the drama in it. I love the image of first the humble shepherd then the stately wise man and then myself, pulsing heart in hand. It's quite the picture.

It truly is my best self who comes forward at the first of the year with promises and resolutions. I mean them. I mean to keep them and, as I mentioned recently, I make them with eyes wide open  -- in at least as much as I am able to be open minded about myself.

Someone -- and I truly don't remember whom -- told me that Christians don't need to make resolutions. They are always on their knees in front of the crucifix doing their best and making amends for their failings.

This is not true of me. I grew up at the altar of the church; I am well schooled in the Christian way of life. Throughout my life I was often told, "you need to have more faith," "you need to forgive," you need to "Let go and let God." And I never disagreed. These things, I knew, were true and would be helpful. Yet, my constant inner response was, "YBH. Yes, but how?"

Herein lies the beauty of aging. We learn things. Through various means and methods and a lot of "hard knock" schooling in the always truthful, School of Life, I have found the YBH. I have learned to have faith, to forgive, to surrender.

Resolutions are one of the vehicles that deliver the YBH to me. They are the wheels on the vehicle of faith that, in the next twelve months, will help me end the year a happier, healthier, and, well, better person. In a few weeks when Lent comes around, I'll get to recommit, tweak and renew those resolutions in the form of Lenten sacrifices. There is much learning and living to be had in the quest to reach those goals.

So if you are a resolutionist, or never have been, it's not too late! Consider taking a little time this month to look at your year just past and the one laying ahead, shining with hope and promise, and consider what will help you get to the end of it with a heart full of love and gratitude.

Let me know how it works for you!

PS - If you're interested, I just made my New Year's Resolutions and you can find them here.

I write about resolutions most years and often more than once!. Here are several of those posts:

New Resolutions:

2015: More is More, Less is More and More is Better!
2014: Six Word Resolutions to Write on the Clean Slate
2013: Resolutionary Manifesto
2012: A Single Resolution
2011: New Year's Revolution
2010: Resolution Revolution
2009: God on Speed Dial

Taking Stock Along the Way:

Dec 2015: The Un-listened to "Provided That"
Dec 2014: A Change of Face
Feb 2014: Resolution Reality Check
Jan 2013: Hope for my Resolutions

Take Me to the King

Sometimes, a song says it best. This beautiful gospel piece by Tamela Mann is speaking to me these days:

Take me to the King
I don't have much to bring
My heart is torn in pieces -
It's my offering.
Lay me at the throne
Leave me there alone
To gaze upon Your glory
and sing to You this song;
Please take me to the king.

Thoughts for the Day

In keeping with the readings for today -- sometimes it must be said in song  . . . 

Judgments: Sin or Catalyst for Growth?

Recently, I ran into a coworker at a community event, we'll call him Nick. He isn't someone I know well; he is at most an acquaintance.

When I saw him at the school carnival, I was surprised. He had a date with him, an attractive woman perhaps 8 or 10 years younger than he. Nick's date was a petite lady, very well-kept but friendly looking. I promise she was a cheerleader in high school, but the nice kind, the one who comes from a sweet family and is beloved by all. I imagine she's divorced, probably fairly recently, and has two kids, 6 and 8, both boys. They adore her he's a great Mom. She probably is going back to school to get her teaching certificate. This was likely a second or third date for them; I could tell by his hand on her elbow that they had not spent a lot of time together. And . . . I know I'd like her. She's a likeable person

I always pictured Nick with a different kind of gal, taller and more bohemian, like he. She was younger than I'd expected too. I remember being very surprised at the sight of them.

All of these thoughts flashed by in a part of a second. They may have passed unnoticed if I hadn't immediately been standing idle in a long line with plenty of processing time.What astounds me is that I had all of these judgements about Nick's date and I've never even met the lady! What's more, I had all of these previously unnoticed conclusions about Nick who is virtually a stranger to me!

Our Human Nature

Snap judgments are a part of human nature. Brain scientist Nicholas Rule has researched this:  We cannot train ourselves not to judge; it's what the human brain is made to do. In fact, the ability to make these instant decisions is what helps keep us safe in crisis. Which person do you ask for directions? Which kids should you avoid in the schoolyard? That person made you uncomfortable; you know to be wary and exercise caution. Sometimes the snap judgment is really about the other person and needs to be listened to. This is not a part of our brain we want to turn off.

Taking Advantage

At other times, the snap judgment is really about us. "It's not you, it's me!" For people of faith then, that leaves us with a dilemma; "Stop judging, that you may not be judged" is a core tenant of Christianity and, I suspect, many other faiths. The challenge then becomes not to turn-off or ignore the snap judgement, but the opposite, to notice it. Once noticed, the judgment can be the catalyst for personal growth; it can serve to sharpen our growth edges.

When we pick up on a judgment that isn't about keeping us safe and helping us choose between fight or flight, we get to look for the opportunity in it. In the case I cited, I realized I was feeling insecure about my age; I had a birthday right around the corner. Was I still "young?" Am I still pretty? Am I attractive "enough?" This chance encounter with an acquaintance and a complete stranger gifted me with the opportunity to notice some unconscious angst in myself and to get it handled before my birthday. I was able to celebrate my birthday without all that unconscious brain-chatter running in the background. It was one of my most relaxed birthdays in decades.

The next time I notice myself judging someone, instead of shushing it as I would a toddler in church, I am going to take a couple of breaths and look beneath it. You may want to try the same.

Building "Soul Muscles"

It's very good that I can't "fail" Lent. I heard someone say about Lent recently, "It's better to make a small promise you can keep then to struggle throughout and never succeed." I disagree entirely.

Consciousness is raised through struggle. "Do hard things," right? Our will, our stamina, our conscientiousness, our faith: these are the muscles of our soul. They are built through exercise and specifically through stress.

We know how muscles grow, right? When a muscle is required to produce force, it causes tension. The tension creates tiny tears in the tight bundle of fibers that makes up the muscle. When your muscles know they have been under tension, the send in the troops to rebuild those tears. As the tears heal, the muscle then grows in those spots. Over time, and with consistent commands to produce greater amounts of force, the muscle grows in measurable fashion.

Yet if you never require anything extra of your muscles, they won't grow. In fact, if you keep on slacking and not requiring more of them over time as you age, they will naturally atrophy! Yes, in choosing to do nothing of note, in not requiring of our bodies the extraordinary, we actually become weaker.

Which brings us back to Lent and how I am struggling. I am having my everyday problem: there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do along with everything I should do. I keep breaking my promises! Argggh. Then I recommit and put in renewed effort and then, magically, my "soul muscles" grow a bit.  

It's day by day around here. No, hour by hour. The key, I think, is to never give up. The key is to do the hard thing. Lift the weight, push the sled, sit up, "git" up, do anything rather than nothing. Keep the faith, literally. 

At every turn, we must choose again the best course. At the end of our Lenten journey, we will have built those big soul muscle and we will have the strength to face whatever is next. 

 

Scourging the Heart

On the first Friday of this new Lenten season, I am considering my fasts and sacrifices for the season. I am a person tempted to extremes; I tend to make hard plans. I then have to remind myself, frequently, that it is not possible to "fail" Lent. There were some words of wisdom in today's readings:

This, rather, is the fasting that I wish:
releasing those bound unjustly,
untying the thongs of the yoke;
Setting free the oppressed,
breaking every yoke;
Sharing your bread with the hungry,
sheltering the oppressed and the homeless;
Clothing the naked when you see them,
and not turning your back on your own.
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your wound shall quickly be healed

(Isaiah 58:6-8a)

On Ash Wednesday the notion that appeared over and over in my prayers was "a scourging of my heart." In all honesty, I wanted to push off this image at first; it sounds melodramatic, dire, extreme. Yet, it's entirely appropriate. It's one of those "be careful what you pray for" prayers. I was left then to consider what sacrifices will lead me there.

This year, I am fasting from criticism, "helpful" or not. I am so often convicted by my critical tongue. I will take care not to offer many (if any) opinions. I will practice, instead, letting the words pass unsaid. Yesterday, at work, I literally had to hold my lips together at one point! We live in a culture of opinions. I want to see what can come of me keeping mine to myself. I am going to consciously lessen my idle chatter as well. It's not enriching the world.

As a family, we are taking on a "fast food fast" and Food Stamps budget; these are hard on the children but less challenging for me. More challenging will be to journal my food intake for the day. These food related sacrifices are an opportunity to learn from the pain of self-discipline and to lean more heavily on the Holy Spirit.

This is born of the desire to create in me a clean heart. I do not know if it's the shortest path but it's the one I'm headed out on right now. I am seeking not only a scourging of the heart, but total restoration.

A clean heart create for me God;
Renew within me a steadfast spirit.
Do not drive me from your face
or take me from your Holy Spirit.
Restore to me the gladness of your salvation;
Uphold me with a willing spirit.

Psalm 51: 12-14

What are you seeking?

The Mouthpiece of God

Robert Bellarmine has a publication entitled, The Mind's Ascent to God.  Step 14 of the ascent is "On the Consideration of God's Mercy."

Bellarmine talks about how created things can take away some of our miseries; drink can take away thirst, bread can take away hunger, and so forth. He then reminds us that some "miseries" are only curable by God, such as "the snares of the devils" including "error and blindness of mind and of warped conscience, which we do not notice in ourselves."

This is where "support" comes in. This is where I need to have a friend, family member or spiritual director who is willing to say to me, "that seems kind of rash" or "what about your calling?" With their boldness and insight, they hasten the "cure" of which Bellarmine speaks. Such loved ones, such ones who are brave enough to say what they see, are the mouthpiece of God.

It is my nature to be a quick actor, particularly in crisis, I tend to see clearly what I need to do and I set about getting it done. I have good instincts, and usually it pays to follow them, but not all my decisions are sound ones or the best thought out. That's where deconstructing it with someone I trust can be so helpful. They can see the impulsivity, the rashness, or any hardness of heart, that is hidden to me. Likewise, at a time of weakness or faltering, such ones are the ones to give a word of encouragement or offer a prayer. Sometimes that word is enough to help me stand tall.

I am so grateful to be surrounded by those who are willing both to lift me up and to set me straight. It takes courage and an open heart to be the mouthpiece of God. May I also be so for others.

Peace.

What Manner of Love?

"See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.  Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed* we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. Everyone who has this hope based on him makes himself pure, as he is pure."

1 John 3:1-3

It was unbridled joy for me to open my Bible and encounter this reading today. It comes to my mind as an old Sunday School song, "Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us; behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us.  That . .. .we. . . should be called the Sons of God."

"What manner of love," indeed.  How can it be that He has chosen me?  How unworthy I am and yet how filled with unquenchable joy! How undeserving and yet, how it makes me stand erect, how this knowledge fills me with pride! 

What manner of love, indeed, has so lifted and elevated me? What manner of King exalts his servants so? What manner of Savior is also brother and guide and counselor? 

It is indeed only by the fullest description of love that such gifts, such grace is possible. It is the greatest gift of grace and is made even fuller in the promise of the next verse: "What we shall be has not yet been revealed . . we shall be like him."  


Dear Savior Jesus, make it so. Help your humble servant.  This day, this hour, though undeserving, may I be like you. May I strive to be in the present moment in my words and acts. May I stand tall in the knowledge of your grace and love and be equal to the tasks you have set before me.  Help me to know you and to see you in the hands and words and hearts of all I encounter.  May I be in some small part worthy of the name, "Beloved."  In the name of the Father and the Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

Some Gave All - My Part Looks Different

Growing up, I thought I'd be a missionary. Well, actually, at first I thought I'd be a singing nun and a missionary (think Julie Andrews) but my mom discouraged it on the basis that I wasn't Catholic. So I revised my vision to that of a married Protestant missionary.

I combed religious periodicals at the library and wrote down the names of missionary training schools. I schemed ways to raise money. I spoke to every missionary who visited our small church and saved my pennies for missionary causes. I could see myself with my wild-haired, bare-footed children in the wilds of Borneo or Honduras, translating the Bible into indigenous languages. I imagined my bed draped with mosquito netting as I patiently combed the knots out of my daughter's wild mane with a primitive looking comb. I saw myself washing clothes in a river on rocks alongside the locals, my baby tied securely to my back with piece of woven cloth.  I imagined visits home as my children, unused to civilization and with unfamiliar shoes strangling their feet, clung to me with uncertainty in the airports as my family ecstatically embraced my tan, fit self. This, I was certain, was my future.

Instead, I went to a nearby university, dropped out after only a year, earned my "M.R.S. degree" instead and began adult life in the concrete jungle in Houston, Texas. It took me years to stop accusing myself of selling out. I thought the only way I could share my faith was, in short, to sacrifice myself to it.

In truth, there was a lot I did not know about my mission. Throughout my life I have gotten glimpses of my calling, sometimes in crystal clear blasts and sometimes, "as through a glass, darkly." In 1984, I got such a blast and for the first time articulated my calling "to be an advocate for children." In the 30 years since, that calling has woven through my life, manifesting in myriad ways creative enough  to be the handiwork of only the Great Artist. Right now, it is manifest not only in the raising of my beautiful family but in my work with Special Ed kids in a Functional Communication Classroom.

But I digress. On Sunday, all of this came tumbling back to me as Father Uche reminded us that we know not what the future holds, but each of us has a mission and it is ours -- and ours alone -- to say YES to. For some that looks like being an alter server, for some it is a lean-to in the wilds of Borneo. I think about soldiers, giving all. I think about doctors fighting Ebola at the cost of their lives. I think (and think and think) about martyrs and saints and Mother Teresa and oh yes, I do wish I was more like her!

For some, it is dramatic and public and heroic. For me, it seems to be less so.  I don't know if I will be called on to give my life for my faith and ideals;  I like to think I would in fact do so willingly and joyfully, but honestly, I don't know. I do know that for now, my call is to  live out the gospel --in a way that is hopefully both evoking and inviting --while advocating for children. It's certainly not easy, but it's not complicated either.  It living life purposefully day by day, moment by moment, all the while praying that the "good" is outweighing the "bad" often enough to make a difference.

May God give me the grace to do just that.

Formula One and Giving

Dear Friends:

Here is a chance for you to "give back." If you volunteer, you will doubtless run into my dear hubby.

--------------------------
The Knights of Columbus Chapter in the Diocese of Austin has an excellent opportunity to raise funds

for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Austin Office of Pro-Life Activities and Chaste Living. They need your

help.

Sodexo, the food Vendor for the Circuit Of the Americas (COTA), has generously offered the chance to

staff some of their concession stands for the Formula One Race. In return they will be making a lot of

money for Pro Life. If we do a good job, more opportunities with them will come our way.

We need contact information for 450 volunteers by 8/29/2014


These funds are being donated to our Diocese Office of Pro Life and Chaste Living. This office supports a

myriad of ministries in the Austin Diocese; Project Rachael, Sidewalk Ministries, Gabriel Project, Pro-Life

Helpline, Natural Family Planning, Catechesis on Human Love Certification the UT. Party for Life, Texas

Catholic Pro Life Day, the Coordination of Parish Pro-Life Committees, Culture of Life Speakers Bureau,

and much more.

Could you please send your contact information to austinknightsf1@gmail.com, or call/text (512) 387-

0337 right away. Please let us know which of the 3 days you can work. If you can work all three, that

would be great!!

The Formula One race is in October 31st, November 1st & 2nd. You can work any or all of the 3 days.

Our shift will start around 4:00 am, with most going home at 7 pm, though some of us will be going

home around 8 Pm. All are encouraged to obtain their TABC License. This can be received online for

$12.00. It takes approximately 2 hours online. See link.


There is also a Mandatory Food Certification Required.

http://texasfoodsafetytraining.com/product/5-austin-food-handler-card-city-of-austin-registration/


Volunteers must be at least 15 years old. You must be at least 18 years old to sell alcohol (with a TABC

license, of course).


Most will work in the food stands, which also sells alcohol. A few will work in the beverage stands.

Parking, breakfast & lunch will be provided. There will also be breaks during the day. Of course, there

will be no entry charge.

God Bless You and Yours,

Knights of Columbus

For Anyone Struggling as I Am . . .

I have been quiet here of late, a sign that I have been struggling, faith-wise. I have one child who was just confirmed and is for the first time truly developing her life of faith, and another who has turned away from her faith.

This has left me wavering in the gap. My hubby is often resistant to going to church, it's a pain with the little ones and we are way, way too busy with ball. Ball is coming to an end this week for all but Sunshine, so that will help. Really, though, what is needed is my own resolve. I am being tested on many fronts and frankly, failing.

I've often wondered how I would have stacked up to the early Christians, who were tested at every turn and under constant threat of torture and death for living their faith. I am grateful for the privileges I have as an American; I am free to worship as I choose. 

Nonetheless, I totally forgot Mass yesterday. No, I'm not kidding. Our routine was weird because Dear Hubby was out of town (a very rare occurrence) and Pepper was cooking me Mother's Day breakfast. On Saturday, I'd gone to bed with a vague thought of going to 9:30 or 11:30, depending on breakfast timing. On Sunday, my mind was a blank. I remembered around 5:00 when I was helping Pepper get dinner started and it was almost time for my MIL to come over and also too late for Sunday evening Mass.

I therefore woke up today accusing myself of being a failure. I am so disappointed in  myself in this fourth week of Easter. Yet as I sat here, reading the readings and listening to my Mother's Day gift of Angels and Saints at Ephesus, I had to take heart. I remembered one of my memory verses from long ago, this from Second Timothy, 2:11-13:

This saying is trustworthy:

If we have died with him

we shall also live with him;

if we perservere

we shall also reign with him;

But if we deny him

he will deny us.

If we are unfaithful

He remains faithful,

For he cannot deny himself.

If you are likewise struggling, dear friends, take heart. We stand at the crossroads of Grace and Mercy. The only wrong turn now is to leave the road.

God is not dead. He has risen as He said and remains faithful. The Good Shepherd longs for us to return and reside in his heart of hearts. May God bless us all in this Fourth Week of Easter and may the angels and saints indeed intercede on our behalf to hasten our return to his good and loving arms.

Persevering

I may have mentioned that my new favorite blog is "Mama Knows, Honeychild." I just love it. She's quite funny, but also most inspirational.

So if you are finding it hard to persevere in whatever impossible/crazy/weird/unseemly/impractical goal/Lenten Sacrifice/New Year's Resolution you have set for yourself, run, do not walk to this post by Mama Knows.

I know, I am very behind on my blog reading. This one is actually from July of last year. But do not let that dissuade you.  This is me before I read this post:

(This will all make sense to you after you read Mama Knows' blog)

and this is me AFTER I read it.



You know you need some inspiring. Go.  No really, go. Now!









Are you still here? GO!

The Measure with Which I Measure

Today as I sat down to peruse the readings, I encountered one of my favorite -- and most challenging -- passages in the gospel. This text on mercy fits my new year's "mercy theme" and lives where I do.

It is helpful to be reminded that living with forgiveness really isn't enough. The state of mercy is not only a reactive state. Mercy is also proactive. It is not enough to forgive those who have "wronged me," I am called to "love your (my) enemies" and "pray for those who persecute you (me)." It gets tougher: I am called to "offer no resistance to one who is evil."

Even in Leviticus, we the faithful were exhorted to "bear no hatred" for our brother and sister; and of course to "Love your neighbor as yourself."

There is a parallel to today's gospel from Matthew in Luke (6:27-38) and I have always particularly loved this ending section of the passage:

Give and gifts will be given to you; 
A good measure, packed down, shaken together and overflowing
will be poured into your lap; 
For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you. (6:38)

It's such a hopeful passage! Give and it will be given to you! And so easy to forget the instructions that come before it: Love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, judge not, lest you be judged.

What is the "measure" with which I measure? Is it a measure of generosity? Is it a measure of forgiveness? Is is a measure of proactive mercy?

That is surely the measure I need poured into my lap, one of generosity and non-judgmental-ism and
forgiveness. Food for thought!

I'll let Mother Theresa finish the thought:

Considering it ALL Joy (Say, What?)

Thought for the day:
Consider it all joy, my brothers and sisters,
when you encounter various trials,
for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.
And let perseverance be perfect,
so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

(James 1: 2-4)

This is one of the hardest precepts in Christian thought, to "consider it all joy . . . when (we) encounter various trials." There are times we do it, right?  Particularly in times of crisis, such as losing a loved one, we are able to find our "Yes" and know that God is at work in us. 

It's the every day trials in which we find ourselves struggling: When a teenager is surly, or our boss is unfair, or our toddler is whiny, that is where the rubber meets the road. It's so easy to be surly myself, or retaliatory, or -- yes -- whiny. It's hard, hard to "consider it all joy." 

There are times I rise to the occasion, no question. Yet in the rhythm of the day, the ordinary cadence of daily life, it's easy to fall into a habit of complaining and unhappiness. It's hard to remember that I need that testing of my faith to grow my perseverance and that all of it is the refining fire, perfecting in me my finest and noblest self. And to remember, as Paul told the Romans, that "all things work together for good to them that love God" (8:28).

The first step in getting to that place where it is all "work(ing) together for good" is to accept what is, to grab hold of that joy, albeit at times elusive. In working to accept the things we want to push away, in clearing out the relentless chatter in our brains and looking deep in our hearts, we find the joy and from there, grow the perseverance. 

I cannot say it better than Paul did for the Romans: 

Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance,
and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope,
and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us. 

(Romans 5:3-4)

So take heart today --whatever your trials -- and know that you are not alone. We are together in the struggle to grow our faith through joy and then through perseverance. Blessings on your day.

[If you happened to notice that the "thought for the day" is really the thought for yesterday, you get one bonus point!]

The Art of Dying Well

Van Dyke's "Saint Rosalie"

I just finished St. Robert Bellarmine's The Art of Dying Well. In the middle ages, books and art on death reflected the preoccupation of the times and the saint weighs in with a fully Christian perspective.Written in 1619, it is certainly a relevant work for today. It is a challenging topic because the author's squirm-in-your-seat premise is that dying well requires living well.

In his dedication, the saint himself says that "this book does not contain a philosophical or oratorical or poetic art which might . . . delight the ears . . but to meditation on death and thinking about things which are not generally pleasing to men, such as poverty, humility, patience and other true Christian virtues."  I almost laugh at this sentence because where I grew up, we'd put it this way: "You've quit preaching and gone to meddling."

It is a challenging book because Bellarmine constantly shores up his arguments for living as well as possible with proofs from the gospels and a good many saintly authors. It is difficult to live well and the author does not lead us to believe otherwise, but he also points out that the teachings of the patriarchs and apostles can guide us. As well the Holy Spirit is at hand and able to deliver us from our trials and difficulties in this regard.

He tackles the stuff that is the fodder of our daily life: dying to the world, moral virtues, the "unmasked error of the rich," prayer and fasting, and finally the sacraments, ending with the sacrament of extreme unction. The saint says, "From it we derive a highly useful lesson, not only for the end of life but for it's whole course."  (Not) coincidentally, my reading this last chapter coincided with my receiving the Anointing of the Sick in mass on Saturday.

Bellarmine really gets to meddling in that last chapter when he points out how many of our sins start with our senses and also how easy they are to avoid if we choose to avoid them. He talks about lust, gluttony, drunkenness, flattery, malice, envy, laziness -- yes, full on to meddling.

This book was both convicting and inspiring. It is a good argument for living the Christian life, even if dying well is not your personal major concern. While it is a book written from a Catholic perspective, there is little that is specifically Catholic. Any serious Christian would find it worthy of consideration. Give it a read; I'd love to hear your thoughts.

The Story of David and Dreena, and a Share of Discomfort

Since Christmas, the daily readings have been giving us the condensed version of the saga of King David. I love that these "David" stories come to us right after Christmas, when our New Year's resolutions help us keep up with the daily scriptures.

King David is alternately hero and scoundrel in these tales and well, so much like me. His crown is often tarnished! It's easy for me to be disappointed when David does something unthinkable -- a la Bathsheba -- or shows a profound lack of faith, as when he numbers the troops. "Disappointment" would be better characterized as discomfort, in truth. I am at "ill at ease" when David is so human. He exercises poor judgment, he is power-happy and greedy, he's impulsive, he's selfish . . . like me. Yuck.

Yet there is so much redemption in these stories. David always realizes his mis-step and gets back on the path to God. He shows great willingness to atone for his mis-deeds and a lot of character in owning up to them. Of course David didn't have the benefit of a Savior, so his penance came in the form of pretty severe consequences, some of which were also visited on his people. [An aside, I love the part where David chooses the consequence and then God, in His mercy, stops the destruction before the appointed time. Isn't that just like God?]

I am confident that when God chose David to shepherd His flock, He was fully aware of David's shortcomings. He had faith in him nonetheless.

What a poignant reminder this is for me. I am going to continue to make mis-steps and mistakes; at times I will turn my back on my calling and flagrantly rebel against my Lord and Savior. It always surprises me but I don't think it really surprises God. My part is to notice, to repent, to seek forgiveness and to strive to do better in the future.

If you have not had time recently to review this story of David, it bears a look-see. Maybe there is a little of David in all of us.

(The story begins with the January 21 Old Testament reading of 1 Samuel 16 and continues to today, February 6 in 2 Kings chapter 2)

Good News, Good News!

From today's gospel:
“Go home to your family and announce to them
all that the Lord in his pity has done for you.”  (Mark 5:19)

I am so greatly blessed in my life and while I count my blessings all the time, I seldom announce them to my family.

Hear ye, hear ye!

The Lord has had great pity on me! He saved me from a self-absorbent and self-destructive young adulthood by putting in my path friends and leaders of great faith and compassion so many I decided against listing them here!

He healed my scars.

He provided ample bounty even though quite often I was without hope.

He led me to a group of friends who led me to Austin and eventually to my Dear Hubby.

He has allowed me the freedom to make mistakes (so many mistakes, often big ones) and learn from them. This is true grace.

He granted me the large family I always wanted and sent just the right children to me. Each of my beautiful children is both gift and teacher to me every single day. (Even when I don't see it!)

He has saved my life numerous times, at least twice in the last 9 months.

He has allowed me to struggle. This is the foundation of my growth.

He has mercy on me, a often bumbling but well-intentioned ambassador, and offers me countless times of forgiveness and innumerable do-overs.

He gives me hope.

This is just the short list.

 I
am
so
very
grateful.

Mercy

Mercy is a recurring theme in my life right now. For instance, today I sat down to do my devotional time and accidentally read next week's readings instead of today's. Yeah. I've been reading next week all week. The theme for next Thursday (spoiler alert!) is mercy. I only discovered the mishap when I pulled them up online to provide links for my blog. Whoops.

Yesterday, I was notified that someone had linked to one of my posts on Adoption.com, this one from Lent called "Bearing Wrongs Patiently." I reread the post and remembered how much we got out of that experience and vowed to re-run it this year.

All of this of course led me to wonder where there is a lack of mercy in my life. It didn't take long. The real question is where is there not a lack of mercy? "Mercy" is an easy thing to agree with and a challenging way of life. It's easier, often, to be judgmental, impatient, and unforgiving. That's what the world teaches, right? "Every man for himself" is the motto of the day and consensus consciousness agrees. The "me culture" of the 1970s is the one I grew up in and it is hard to overcome. "Self first and self foremost" is "normal."

Mercy is something else altogether. According to the Catechism,
The works of mercy are charitable actions by which we come to the aid of our neighbor in his spiritual and bodily necessities. Instructing, advising, consoling, comforting are spiritual works of mercy, as are forgiving and bearing wrongs patiently. The corporal works of mercy consist especially in feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and imprisoned, and burying the dead.  (2447)

The Corporal Works of  Mercy are definitely easier for me than the Spiritual Works of Mercy. I am quick to judge and slow to notice. The Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 5, has lots to say about this. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy" (5:7) is just a starting point. I could write a treatise on the many teachings on mercy in this one chapter alone. In fact, since I have apparently already read all of next week's readings (duh!), I will dedicate next week's devotional time to just that, a small treatise on mercy as expressed in Matthew, Chapter 5.

Can you tell I'm working on fulfilling one of my New Year's resolutions? In particular, I'm working on the one to do with relationships, "Love with passion, live with forgiveness." Sometimes the words need wheels on them! Stay tuned . . .

PS - Please share with me your favorite thoughts or expressions on the subject of mercy.