When you’re at Mass, do you sometimes sneak a sidewise glance at someone near you, your mind wandering from the Liturgy to instead think about how this one is dressed, how that one looks, health-wise, and what’s going on with her hair? Oh, come on, I’m sure I’m not the only one. Hard as we try, we sometimes lose the battle to keep focused; we fight but lose the war against judging our neighbours. Most of the time it’s harmless mind rambling. It’s not gossip, we’re simply giving in to the chatter going on in our heads. With the smallest amount of effort, we can pull ourselves back to the Liturgy and our involvement in it.
I often make assumptions – about events, situations and, most especially people – and in my assumptions, I judge. This has tripped me up more times than I care to recount, but I must, otherwise I will never be able to move on; I will never be able to grow in charity and love. Our mind wanderings and assumptions can become dangerous, I think, when we step across the boundary of harmless rambling thoughts to observing how those around us pray and worship – and we judge. We have our way of doing things, and if others aren’t in alignment with us – we judge. This is not good for us and it’s certainly not good for our neighbour. This can lead to an unhealthy us vs them mentality, setting us off in the wrong direction.
The apostles, constantly ran up against division from the people they were striving to serve. Even amongst themselves, at times, they fought over one issue or another. It happens. But there are large issues and then there are small issues. How you pray, as opposed to how I pray; how you practice your faith in comparison to how I live mine, in my mind, is a small issue.
Based on St. Paul’s teachings, Marty Haugen’s beautiful hymn tells us, ‘We are many parts, we are all one body.’ A tapestry of woven threads that, in its entirety, in the light of the Liturgy, the Sacraments, the Body and Blood of Christ – we are woven into one baptized people. So you see? There’s no reason to judge. We are all gathered together for the very same reason – our faith. Let us extol our love for God in our love for one another, and let us be joyful!
Category: Faith
I hope you will indulge me. This is something I wrote four years ago, but never shared. Seeing as how my sister’s birthday fell on Easter Monday, it naturally came to mind.
I’ve made several attempts to begin this piece, but it does not come as easily as some. The winter was long and difficult and spring has been resistant, all of which reflects my mood – cold and dark, slowly emerging. Through the winter months my sister’s health took a turn from which she could not come back. The weight dropped off her, pain set in, but through it all, her faith, her fight and her humor never wavered. She was a tremendous example to all the family of determination with grace and dignity. Just as our mother had been 25 years before. From Christmas on, my husband and I made plans to travel to Rhode Island to be with her, but storm after storm thwarted our efforts. When the skies would clear, the temperatures would plummet, and then we feared returning to frozen pipes. Finally, in early March we made the 11 hour journey and spent two days by her side. The priest had already anointed her, her daughter and son-in-law from Switzerland were there and we knew the end was near. In hushed voices, my niece and I talked. “She’s afraid of dying,” Jessy said, sadly. My niece did her best to give me time alone with my sister, but each time the house grew quiet, with just the two of us there, she would fall deeply asleep. She was exhausted. On the second and last day of our visit, she slept the entire time, waking only briefly. When it was time for us to leave, I knew I had to say something that would comfort her, but what? It had to be quick, but it had to calm her and ease her fears.
“Just rest,” I told her, “don’t worry about anything.”
“Oh, I wish,” she said.
“Patti,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “You are loved. You are so loved! God is love – and that is all you need to think about.”
She died four days later, in complete peace, her family told me.
Now we are in the joyful Easter season! But before we could rejoice in Easter celebration, we had to first experience Christ’s agony and death. Thankfully, our faith teaches us that the death of a loved one is not the end…but a new beginning. And how can we not rejoice in that?
It’s Lent and we can trudge through it looking dismal, so everyone knows we’ve taken on onerous practices, or we can open our eyes to the gifts God provides us with on a daily basis – and smile.
Are you’re like me? Sometimes the smallest change of routine can throw me off balance. We were looking after our son’s dog while he and his family went on a holiday to warmer climes. Not one week, not two…but three long weeks of a four legged addition to our household. I don’t need to tell you who looked after this guest. I was the one to take him outside first thing in the morning and last thing at night. My husband, who sleeps like the dead, was nowhere near rising when Banksy and I began the day and, in the evening he had long since ascended the stairs before the dog and I were ready to retire.
Our dog sleeps in a kennel in the kitchen, my son’s dog sleeps in their bedroom…on their bed – I drew the line there, letting him sleep in our room, but on his own bed. He sleeps in quite late, my son informed me. Well, no, he only sleeps in if the people he’s sleeping with do. When I rose at 5:45, so did Banksy, rearing to go.
Change can be discombobulating, it can make us ornery and cantankerous – but when we’re doing good things for others, is that the way to do it? I don’t think so. It rather defeats the purpose. Admittedly, I was a bit ornery at the start of our new living arrangements, but, over time, a new routine developed.
We have an invisible fence for our dog and each morning I slap her collar on her and send her out the door. I soon discovered that having to go outside with Banksy in the morning allowed me to appreciate the beauty of the morning sky – the rising sun, the crisp crunch of the snow underfoot. Each evening when we’d go out one last time, I’d stare up into the night sky and marvel at the beauty and the wonder that shone down from the heavens.
An inconvenience can sometimes bring about wonderful discoveries in ourselves and in the world around us. Our three weeks of dog-sitting prepared me for Lent –showing me how change of routine (being deprived of our creature comforts) can be energizing; it taught me to adapt with a happy heart and it opened my eyes to God’s beauty and splendour. There’s no need to dismally trudge through Lent – God’s gifts are everywhere, when we open our hearts to his graces.
I am my mother’s daughter. My family will sometimes call me T. Way, when I sound or act like my dad – worrying about everything. But I am very much like my mother too. She had numerous admirable qualities, making the raising of seven children appear effortless. Unfortunately, those qualities I did not inherit.
If you were sick, in a household of nine, on a busy school morning, you got short shrift. Mother didn’t spend a lot of time fussing over you. In later years, when she got cancer, most of her friends didn’t know. Never knew about the weeks and weeks of radiation treatments. She continued going to meetings and offering to help on various committees. My sister Patti was truly mother’s daughter, working fulltime through her cancer treatments up until the last few months before she died.
These women taught me that sickness is not something to be pitied or rued. So what am I supposed to do with a man cold? Seriously, I grew up in an unsympathetic household in which sickness was no big deal. So, when my sweet, affable husband turns into a different being entirely, how am I supposed to react? It has always mystified me, for we have been here many times before.
All the day long, never stirring from the bed, then thrashing the sheets and blankets off at 3:00 in the morning, turning on lights, coughing and hacking his way to the bathroom, coming back and falling into bed, wheezing with ragged breaths, too exhausted to care or notice that all the lights have been left on. I get up, rearrange the sheets and blankets, and turn out the lights. Is this done in saintly fashion? Heavens no! It’s more than mild annoyance that propels me out of bed to set things straight. Then I lie there at 3:00 in the morning – wide awake and fuming.
What’s the lesson here? I know there’s a lesson to be learned. I know God is smiling, trying so hard not to laugh – at me…at us. My silent annoyance begins to fade and I too smile. One thing God has blessed me with and for which I am eternally grateful, is a healthy sense of humor. It has carried me through almost 40 years of marriage – and marriage, as we all know, can try the patience of a saint. Though, what saints have and what I sorely lack is patience. God tests me on this attribute (or lack thereof) often. It’s a daily struggle for me, though it is often an easier hurdle to overcome at any other time of the day.3:00 in the morning is really pushing it!
But, let’s look on the bright side – 3:00 am is an ideal time to have a chat with God, who will always calm us down and set us back on the right path. (And that path for me, to the relief of many, has never included a career in nursing.)
Look back, way back, to Christmases past. Do you have fond memories of Christmases that you share with your children, your grandchildren? Was last Christmas like those of, say 20 years ago? Of course not. Why? Because things change, situations change…and we adapt.
When my sons were in their teens, I told them they would never have to race around the country side on Christmas day, rushing to visit in-laws and us all in one day. That was something we never had to do and I told them I would not subject them to it. They stared at me blankly at the time. A decade later, when my husband and I found ourselves alone one Christmas day, I thought I would die. I didn’t. I adapted.
I’ve never been overly fond of dogs, though my husband loves them and so do our sons. Now when we all gather, there are four dogs in our midst. I’ve adapted.
I love to bake and I love getting both our sons and their families together –they are all vegans now and cooking, especially baking, is a challenge for me when they come to the house, but I’ve adapted (sort of).
When you think back on your life and how it’s changed over the years, do you consider your faith? Do you practice your faith in the same way you did 20 years ago? During this busy, hectic, shortened Advent season, take a long slow breath and reflect on that. In this last little bit of time left before we celebrate the birth of our Lord, find the time to read scripture, listen with greater care. Do the words strike you differently than they have in the past? Times change, but God is constant. He reaches out to us, calling us to live our faith more deeply; to pay greater attention to the path he is calling us to. Let us adapt to his will in this new Church year!
I know a guy who is quite involved with a drop-in centre in downtown Owen Sound. Recently he found himself embroiled in an argument with a neighbour of the centre. The neighbour, a Torontonian, having purchased the property next door and possibly unhappy with the neighbouring clientele, was not in a good mood. This guy I know kept calm and cool (on the outside), despite the berating he received.
“You are nobody,”the man shouted. “you have nothing, you own nothing, you are a loser!” He clearly hoped to incite a violent response, but my friend would not fall into his trap. It was, in fact, an opportunity to demonstrate to those who attend the centre, a non-violent response to conflict. When he told me about this incident later, he nearly shook with the memory of it, but I know he felt proud too – not for how he handled the situation, but for an entirely different reason.
When this guy goes down to the drop-in centre, he does not stand out, not in his attire, nor in his speech. He becomes as those he serves and they love that about him. Actually, more than half the people he meets there haven’t a clue he’s the chairman of the board of directors – he’s just one of the guys, which is obviously what the angry new neighbour thought…and that pleased my friend to no end.
We read in the gospel that we should not draw attention to ourselves…when we fast, when we pray…and how about when we serve others? I marvel at this man and how he lives his faith. He does it far better than I, but the good news is – with open eyes, minds and hearts, we can learn from each other, growing closer to God in the process.
Only during Holy Week do I ever really consider the circumstances of Jesus’ crucifixion. How could such a thing happen? If I had been there, surely I would not have been one with the crowd that shouted “Crucify him.” But would I have stood silent, for fear of what the crowd would do to me?
When my children were young, I would not let them use the word hate, it’s a bad word. “You may say, ‘I dislike intensely,’ but never say hate.” That being said, I hate crowds. There’s an energy and an influence that takes over, suddenly. In a flash, it is no longer a group of individuals, but a mob, of one mind – the mind and the influence of the leader(s) and violence and chaos can take over in a heartbeat.
The events that transpired in Charlottesville, Virginia, recently, filled me with sadness and dread. In addition to the events themselves, the way the president dealt with them and the way the United States has been divided by them, one can only worry.
It seems as if the world has turned upside down and inside out. Genocide is taking place in parts of our world; devastation from hurricanes, floods and earthquakes south of us; white supremacists are coming out of the woodwork; the leaders of North Korea and the United States have resorted to adolescent name-calling; and mass killings in Las Vegas. But, what has the president of the United States up in arms? A group of athletes ‘taking a knee’ in quiet, peaceful protest. What is this world coming to?
One can so easily become disheartened hearing, reading and watching these events unfold before our eyes. Several things keep me centered when I begin to feel weighed down by world atrocities: 1.) I truly believe these things have been going on since time immemorial, but technology now brings them to us instantly, sometimes we even see them happening live; 2.) I believe there is an equal amount of goodness in the world (which sadly, the media does not consider newsworthy); and 3.) I believe prayer can heal wounds and action can change lives.
We must remain positive and prayerful. But we cannot afford to remain silent in the light of injustice. Jesus did not tolerate injustice. He did not use violence; he did not berate the crowd, his means were always non-violent, but effective. We can follow Jesus’ lead. In our own way, in our own space, we can heal wounds, change lives, and instill hope – with love, positivity and prayer.
Have you ever wondered about those little details that vary in the telling of the four Gospels? Of course, each Gospel was written at a different time, for a different audience, but still, how is it that certain things are omitted, and other details are there but, well, different?
A recent phone conversation with my brother went something like this:
“Remember how, on July 4th, Judy would always say, ˜well, the summer’s practically shot,'” John said. Judy is our oldest sister, now deceased.
“What? Judy didn’t say that. It was Mamie (our great-grandmother, long deceased also).”
“No, Margie, I distinctly remember Judy saying that. Besides, that’s not how Mamie talked.”
“Well, Judy must have been paraphrasing Mamie, because I remember her saying, ‘July 4th already. The summer is practically over.”
“But I can see Judy when she said it, she’s sitting on her towel at the high tide beach.”
“Where was the high tide beach?”
“The one by Ames’ property.”
“That was the high tide beach? I just called it our beach.”
See how things can get skewed? John is 8 years my senior, so he would remember things I would not know, but, now that he is in his 70s, I have him doubting his memory of events. And neither Judy nor Mamie are here to verify the facts.
To get my siblings conferring on the subject of my falling out of a moving car when I was two, would have your head spinning – four different individuals, four different takes on the subject – all hilarious, except for Michael’s version. He was five and obviously traumatized by the event. “It wasn’t funny,” is always his contribution to the story.
It’s no wonder we are sometimes confused by the variations in the Gospels – different people perceive things differently. But, though some of the details may be omitted or embellished, the core of the message, that kernel of truth – about Jesus, about his words and actions – is at the heart of the matter. And that is Good News indeed.
Categories
Busy People
We are busy, busy, busy, aren’t we – especially in summer. The retired parishioners who come into the office can make my head spin, when they regale me with their ongoing concerns. I’m afraid to retire, I don’t think I could keep up the pace they have set for themselves. We have parishioners who farm – their days are long and demanding and I can’t even imagine how they do it. My life seems tranquil compared to so many in our faith community, but it wasn’t always.
When my kids were young, I was involved in every organization they took part in, as well as a few of my own – if an executive needed members, I stepped up. I ran myself ragged with work, kids, running them to their activities and, consequently, going to lots of meetings.
With age we tend to gain wisdom; we know our limits; we better focus our interests, our talents and our energy. Well, some of us do, and with the rest of us it takes longer to find that focus. It has taken me a long time. I once wrote a missive for the bulletin in which I said, “I run, but I’m not an athlete, I write, but I’m not a writer…” well, I have since changed my thinking on that score.
I’ve decided to train for a ½ marathon this summer; I told my writing group that I will have my novel finished (at least the 5th draft) by the time my grandchild is born in September. And, speaking of said grandchild…I have three knitting projects on the go for the new baby. I am well aware that my pastime activities are not as noble as so many of yours are. But my running raises funds for the hospital and cancer research; my knitting seems to make my daughters-in-law very happy…and my writing, well, that’s something I am compelled to do. This summer I have raised the bar on all of these pursuits, which throws me into doubt from time to time. Will I get everything done I have set out to do? Maybe not. The difference between my earlier self and now is that I have a better sense of balance.
Things fall apart pretty quickly when we lack balance, and I’m not talking about getting plenty of rest and eating properly. Our spiritual well-being and our prayer life are an essential part of a balanced life. If they’re not, we lose a sense of peace within. Without prayer, reflection, contemplation and a faith community to bolster us – our busyness can deplete us and leave us without true purpose. Take a step back, sit in church, reflect… Be still and know that I am God. Ps 46.10
When my sons were in their teens, the protestations began about attending Mass. I explained to them that this was my job, part of the job of raising them – to build a solid foundation of faith. They rolled their eyes and simply chalked it up with all the other restrictions and limitations I placed on their lives. I speak singularly, as if my husband wasn’t in the picture. He was, but he was the softy; I was the one who held them to the house rules. I never felt I was a strict disciplinarian, but once
we decided on a certain plan of action – I didn’t waffle, as someone else might have.
Skip ahead two decades and we have finally reached that point I had always heard about and had only dreamed of – that point in their lives when they see us differently; they admire our wisdom. Our one son, with three children, now realizes the importance of rules and holding kids to them. His younger brother – soon to be a father, is observant. Our daughters-in-law often swell our heads, complimenting us on raising such wonderful sons. I simply look heavenward, with thankful praise to God for his bounteous gifts. They are not church goers, these sons of ours, but they were given a foundation of faith, they were taught respect and were respected, and they were immersed in love. I have hope…I have faith.
On Mother’s Day, our oldest, invited not only his parents to his house, but his in-laws, his brother and his wife – the expectant parents – and his brother’s in-laws. We mothers were honoured but I, and most especially my son’s wife, were very proud. He worked tirelessly to ensure everything was just so, for these many women in his life.
I learned from my own parents that lecturing and preaching to non-practicing children does nothing to increase their desire to return to the Church. In many instances, it alienates grown children from their parents. My son once told his wife (right in front of me), “Some people preach their faith, but my parents live their faith.” My eyes welled up with tears. I have hope…I have faith.
Sitting and observing all the busyness of Mother’s Day, what I witnessed everywhere I looked was love. My husband and my son, busy in the kitchen; my younger son and his pregnant wife, cuddled up on the chaise in the living room; the grandchildren playing on the floor with their other grandpa, and we ladies sitting around the dining room table, sipping wine, laughing and sharing stories of times past. Everywhere I looked, I saw love. God’s love. God is love.
A dear friend very recently said to me, “God equals love – love equals God.” I have great faith…I have much hope