Today I was thinking about my friends. It seems we are all so similar in our desire to make the right choices in life, base our choices on the right reasons, with the right motivation, etc. Yet, somehow, at varying stages in life, we all wonder "what if" about this or that choice. What if I had done things differently? What if I had taken another path? What if I studied that subject instead, or went into that field instead?
Everyone can ask these questions, and a good many of us do. Sometimes it helps to evaluate where we are now, and where we'd like to be as we continue on in life. Sometimes it serves no purpose but to heap more depression and guilt, and more of a sense of failure for not being or doing what one likes. Sometimes it leaves us grateful for the path we've chosen, regardless of the stumbling blocks we may face at times.
If only life came with a map for each person, handed to new moms to guide their children in youth toward the EXACT purpose intended for them, and then handed to the young adult to follow when leaving home to head out into life in the world. If only... A map could make the choices easier. Actually, it would leave no need for choices, or show us which paths get us to the goal target, even if not directly (little side trips that could add some fun and adventure while still heading in the generally right direction). If only it was all printed out for us, colors, a slide show, and all. Then free will, still an option, would be to use the map or toss it to the wind.
I've discovered a secret. It is not meant to be kept secret though, so I'm going to tell you it in case nobody else has. There is a map! There is a map, a buried treasure, and an adventure, all in one, and we each have one! This is exciting good news indeed!
"I Am the Way, the Truth and the Life" OMG!! There it is, buried in that bit of information told us by Jesus... The Map, The Goal, and The Adventure...all in One!
As kids we may or may not see our parents ask directions when lost. A lot depends upon the ego of the one lost, the pride. Can a parent admit s/he needs guidance? Does s/he stop and ask along the way, "How do I get to...from here?"
If we don't see our parents humble it's hard to learn humility. If we don't see them pray and ask guidance from the MapMaker, it's hard to learn that prayer helps us come to a spiritual discernment in our own lives. It's hard to ask another for direction, even when hopelessly lost, seeing no Light at the end of the road, no candle in any window, no friendly faces along the road. Instead we can end up cursing the day we began the journey of life, cursing the darkness and trusting nobody for assistance.
Parents really must show their kids the humility of seeking direction in life. Show them how to pray, show them how to seek trusted others to ask guidance. Friends need to help one another do this too, especially if parents did not or could not do so, or the cycle of being Lost continues, generation to generation.
Spiritual Discernment is a rich tradition in the Christian Church. There are those with a true gift who are trained and willing to share it, to walk the path of the Lord with others and encourage them along the Way.
We do have the Map. Thanks be to God!
Friday, August 17, 2007
If Life Came With A Road Map
Today I was thinking about my friends. It seems we are all so similar in our desire to make the right choices in life, base our choices on the right reasons, with the right motivation, etc. Yet, somehow, at varying stages in life, we all wonder "what if" about this or that choice. What if I had done things differently? What if I had taken another path? What if I studied that subject instead, or went into that field instead?
Everyone can ask these questions, and a good many of us do. Sometimes it helps to evaluate where we are now, and where we'd like to be as we continue on in life. Sometimes it serves no purpose but to heap more depression and guilt, and more of a sense of failure for not being or doing what one likes. Sometimes it leaves us grateful for the path we've chosen, regardless of the stumbling blocks we may face at times.
If only life came with a map for each person, handed to new moms to guide their children in youth toward the EXACT purpose intended for them, and then handed to the young adult to follow when leaving home to head out into life in the world. If only... A map could make the choices easier. Actually, it would leave no need for choices, or show us which paths get us to the goal target, even if not directly (little side trips that could add some fun and adventure while still heading in the generally right direction). If only it was all printed out for us, colors, a slide show, and all. Then free will, still an option, would be to use the map or toss it to the wind.
I've discovered a secret. It is not meant to be kept secret though, so I'm going to tell you it in case nobody else has. There is a map! There is a map, a buried treasure, and an adventure, all in one, and we each have one! This is exciting good news indeed!
"I Am the Way, the Truth and the Life" OMG!! There it is, buried in that bit of information told us by Jesus... The Map, The Goal, and The Adventure...all in One!
As kids we may or may not see our parents ask directions when lost. A lot depends upon the ego of the one lost, the pride. Can a parent admit s/he needs guidance? Does s/he stop and ask along the way, "How do I get to...from here?"
If we don't see our parents humble it's hard to learn humility. If we don't see them pray and ask guidance from the MapMaker, it's hard to learn that prayer helps us come to a spiritual discernment in our own lives. It's hard to ask another for direction, even when hopelessly lost, seeing no Light at the end of the road, no candle in any window, no friendly faces along the road. Instead we can end up cursing the day we began the journey of life, cursing the darkness and trusting nobody for assistance.
Parents really must show their kids the humility of seeking direction in life. Show them how to pray, show them how to seek trusted others to ask guidance. Friends need to help one another do this too, especially if parents did not or could not do so, or the cycle of being Lost continues, generation to generation.
Spiritual Discernment is a rich tradition in the Christian Church. There are those with a true gift who are trained and willing to share it, to walk the path of the Lord with others and encourage them along the Way.
We do have the Map. Thanks be to God!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Good Morning
Good Morning World! Not that it's so early, but now that I have my morning coffee I'm more able to function.
I don't really like coffee. That's the thing. It is a legal stimulant, and I belong to the Night Owl group (on one list of priests we call it Night Owls for Christ), and so I am NOT a morning person. The world doesn't favor those of use who are not morning people. The world just goes on without us, so we're forced to make difficult choices in life. Either burn it at both ends, or live "an alternate lifestyle" and not be able to keep up with the rest of the world on its schedule.
I fit into both groups. I burn it at both ends too often, and then there's the me who doesn't care about the world's schedule, and I keep pace with my night owl buddies (including my daughter Rose). It's a genetic thing! My mother was a night owl too. We spent many long nights together in her old age talking, playing games, watching movies, having tea. The three of us, Rose, Mom and I were like clones when it came to the night hours. We'd be prowling the house while my husband was in neverland sleeping peacefully, and then up early to function with normal people. How he dealt with 3 of us I don't know.
Now it's just me he deals with for the most part. So, I try to compromise. I have my laptop in our room now. I have a comfortable chair there too. I can stay up reading. I can watch a movie or chat with friends, or just write. I have earphones, so my music doesn't keep him awake. Strange thing this night life.
And, here's the funny part. I have 3 dogs, 5 cats, and 6 birds. They are ALL on my schedule. I think I have the only birds that are chattering among themselves at 3 AM. My cockatiel whistles The Nutcracker or 1812 Overture in the middle of the night! I tell them "Every other bird in the woods is asleep...but you guys!" And they just go on talking and singing. They doze off around dawn. My dogs are the same. The cats? They sleep all day and night.
But the world goes on, and I don't want to miss out on that either, so Good Morning! Have a cuppa jo!
I don't really like coffee. That's the thing. It is a legal stimulant, and I belong to the Night Owl group (on one list of priests we call it Night Owls for Christ), and so I am NOT a morning person. The world doesn't favor those of use who are not morning people. The world just goes on without us, so we're forced to make difficult choices in life. Either burn it at both ends, or live "an alternate lifestyle" and not be able to keep up with the rest of the world on its schedule.
I fit into both groups. I burn it at both ends too often, and then there's the me who doesn't care about the world's schedule, and I keep pace with my night owl buddies (including my daughter Rose). It's a genetic thing! My mother was a night owl too. We spent many long nights together in her old age talking, playing games, watching movies, having tea. The three of us, Rose, Mom and I were like clones when it came to the night hours. We'd be prowling the house while my husband was in neverland sleeping peacefully, and then up early to function with normal people. How he dealt with 3 of us I don't know.
Now it's just me he deals with for the most part. So, I try to compromise. I have my laptop in our room now. I have a comfortable chair there too. I can stay up reading. I can watch a movie or chat with friends, or just write. I have earphones, so my music doesn't keep him awake. Strange thing this night life.
And, here's the funny part. I have 3 dogs, 5 cats, and 6 birds. They are ALL on my schedule. I think I have the only birds that are chattering among themselves at 3 AM. My cockatiel whistles The Nutcracker or 1812 Overture in the middle of the night! I tell them "Every other bird in the woods is asleep...but you guys!" And they just go on talking and singing. They doze off around dawn. My dogs are the same. The cats? They sleep all day and night.
But the world goes on, and I don't want to miss out on that either, so Good Morning! Have a cuppa jo!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I Find Myself Thinking How Very Amazing Grace Truly Is!
Today I was thinking about my daughter. She's coming home to visit soon, and I am very excited. We don't get to see her as often as we'd like. So visits are so special.
Sometimes I look back on her youth, and I think of all the things I could have done better. It makes me wonder how she turned out so good and spiritual and compassionate. Can you tell I'm a proud mom? Yeah, I admit it. Yet, I am aware I was a wounded person, raising a beautiful child.
Being a parent is not easy. When people say to me "You're lucky, your daughter is really good" I think to myself "LUCKY?? Luck has nothing to do with it! It is hard work, everyday, and when I fail it's God that saves her from my failings."
Raising children is no easy task. Sometimes the most intelligent thing a mother hears all day is her own voice! No wonder some rural moms start talking to themselves! I know I did!
When we moved to PA from NYC I thought I would lose my mind. Yes, I loved it here and still do. HOWEVER, adjusting to rural life was a challenge I truly had not considered. I was a city kid. Concrete, noise, delis, and lots of people. Here in PA we were in a rural development with few people around, and I was shy. When my husband left for work I was alone. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. I had God. I had the Communion of Saints. But, I couldn't see them!
I had good days, and a lot of bad days. Depression. Lonliness. Writing was a huge help for me back then. I had a wonderful husband who loved me, but there was something missing in my own inner life that I could not figure out. I've since realized it was the peace that comes from truly loving myself. Geez, loving oneself was the same as selfish, or so I believed. So, I sacrificed for everyone I loved, or tried to. I was there for my aging parents. I took in many children, and helped whomever I could in our ministry. But facing my own wounds and loving myself? Nope! Worst thing was that I was oblivious to my own needs.
I knew my husband loved me. No doubt. I had the most wonderful child in the universe. No doubt. And yet, there I was restless and going into a major depression. My poor family suffered from it. I tried therapy, but in hindsight I realize I was too hasty and did not take my time to find the right therapist for my particular problems. But how would I know? I didn't know my problems!! Since then I have come to recognize them honestly and found a wonderful therapist who helped me tremendously, and it made a huge difference for healing.
Grace alone, given through my husband's love, and my spiritual director's help kept me going until time and prayer opened me to look deep enough inside myself to face my own personal pain and woundedness--the things that caused me to feel unlovable, and therefore never SATISFIED with the wonderful love I was being given. How could it be real if I was not worthy? I was wrong but did not know it then. How sad, too, for those who loved me and watched me suffer...
Tremendous abuse makes a human feel unworthy of love. Women experience this all too often. I did. (I know it's hard too for men who've experienced abuse, because society tells men they have to be strong, adding yet another cross to the one they carry.) When God sent me someone who did NOT abuse but who truly reflected God's Own Love, it was hard to trust that I was loveable. It had nothing to do with him--it was my own lack of self-worth that caused me misery, and I spread the misery around freely too often!
Oh, yes, and add aging to that mix, and the feeling of not being able to create my "identity" and succeed at anything I wanted to do... Aging and women can make for trouble enough long before we recognize the symptoms.
Dear God, how do women who carry such crosses make it through life? How did I? How did I come to such deep peace? GRACE! It is not called "amazing" without reason! It comes in many ways and sometimes we don't even recognize it until we look back in 20/20 hindsight. Maybe that's what's called the wisdom of years--recognizing the Grace that saved us, and now the Grace that can save others. I don't know. I do know it has been hard work working on myself. And I am far from done! Always a work in progress, we are as humans. Yet the key, as I look back, was brute honesty about my life, my wounds, my intense need for God to heal them, to heal me.
I remain a wounded healer as a priest. But that's good! I praise God for making all things work together for the good, as promised. The very worst things I have suffered in life, abuse, betrayal, unexpected loss of my family, prolonged grief are being transformed each day by Grace into compassion and empathy for others who suffer such crosses in life, or different crosses. God takes the blackest of coal in our broken hearts and makes diamonds! Without the coal there would be no diamonds.
Funny how one thought leads to another. Thinking about my beautiful daughter coming home...remembering her as a child, now grown into a lovely woman...how God has kept us close despite my many failings, and then reflecting on the journey... Writing is good. In the old days I said I like to "think in ink," now with computers it's still good. Reflection encourages gratitude, and I am so very grateful.
Thank you, God. Thank You. Thank You for Your love for me. I love You, God. Goodnight.
Sometimes I look back on her youth, and I think of all the things I could have done better. It makes me wonder how she turned out so good and spiritual and compassionate. Can you tell I'm a proud mom? Yeah, I admit it. Yet, I am aware I was a wounded person, raising a beautiful child.
Being a parent is not easy. When people say to me "You're lucky, your daughter is really good" I think to myself "LUCKY?? Luck has nothing to do with it! It is hard work, everyday, and when I fail it's God that saves her from my failings."
Raising children is no easy task. Sometimes the most intelligent thing a mother hears all day is her own voice! No wonder some rural moms start talking to themselves! I know I did!
When we moved to PA from NYC I thought I would lose my mind. Yes, I loved it here and still do. HOWEVER, adjusting to rural life was a challenge I truly had not considered. I was a city kid. Concrete, noise, delis, and lots of people. Here in PA we were in a rural development with few people around, and I was shy. When my husband left for work I was alone. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. I had God. I had the Communion of Saints. But, I couldn't see them!
I had good days, and a lot of bad days. Depression. Lonliness. Writing was a huge help for me back then. I had a wonderful husband who loved me, but there was something missing in my own inner life that I could not figure out. I've since realized it was the peace that comes from truly loving myself. Geez, loving oneself was the same as selfish, or so I believed. So, I sacrificed for everyone I loved, or tried to. I was there for my aging parents. I took in many children, and helped whomever I could in our ministry. But facing my own wounds and loving myself? Nope! Worst thing was that I was oblivious to my own needs.
I knew my husband loved me. No doubt. I had the most wonderful child in the universe. No doubt. And yet, there I was restless and going into a major depression. My poor family suffered from it. I tried therapy, but in hindsight I realize I was too hasty and did not take my time to find the right therapist for my particular problems. But how would I know? I didn't know my problems!! Since then I have come to recognize them honestly and found a wonderful therapist who helped me tremendously, and it made a huge difference for healing.
Grace alone, given through my husband's love, and my spiritual director's help kept me going until time and prayer opened me to look deep enough inside myself to face my own personal pain and woundedness--the things that caused me to feel unlovable, and therefore never SATISFIED with the wonderful love I was being given. How could it be real if I was not worthy? I was wrong but did not know it then. How sad, too, for those who loved me and watched me suffer...
Tremendous abuse makes a human feel unworthy of love. Women experience this all too often. I did. (I know it's hard too for men who've experienced abuse, because society tells men they have to be strong, adding yet another cross to the one they carry.) When God sent me someone who did NOT abuse but who truly reflected God's Own Love, it was hard to trust that I was loveable. It had nothing to do with him--it was my own lack of self-worth that caused me misery, and I spread the misery around freely too often!
Oh, yes, and add aging to that mix, and the feeling of not being able to create my "identity" and succeed at anything I wanted to do... Aging and women can make for trouble enough long before we recognize the symptoms.
Dear God, how do women who carry such crosses make it through life? How did I? How did I come to such deep peace? GRACE! It is not called "amazing" without reason! It comes in many ways and sometimes we don't even recognize it until we look back in 20/20 hindsight. Maybe that's what's called the wisdom of years--recognizing the Grace that saved us, and now the Grace that can save others. I don't know. I do know it has been hard work working on myself. And I am far from done! Always a work in progress, we are as humans. Yet the key, as I look back, was brute honesty about my life, my wounds, my intense need for God to heal them, to heal me.
I remain a wounded healer as a priest. But that's good! I praise God for making all things work together for the good, as promised. The very worst things I have suffered in life, abuse, betrayal, unexpected loss of my family, prolonged grief are being transformed each day by Grace into compassion and empathy for others who suffer such crosses in life, or different crosses. God takes the blackest of coal in our broken hearts and makes diamonds! Without the coal there would be no diamonds.
Funny how one thought leads to another. Thinking about my beautiful daughter coming home...remembering her as a child, now grown into a lovely woman...how God has kept us close despite my many failings, and then reflecting on the journey... Writing is good. In the old days I said I like to "think in ink," now with computers it's still good. Reflection encourages gratitude, and I am so very grateful.
Thank you, God. Thank You. Thank You for Your love for me. I love You, God. Goodnight.
Monday, August 13, 2007
God Willing, We Will Awake in the Morning
I remember as a child being taught to live each day as though it were my last here on Earth. To then live each moment as though it were my last. It was not taught to encourage hedonism, but profound Charity. If I am called home tonight, or in the next moment, would I be at peace with how I've lived?There are some wonderful things my family and the Sisters of Mercy taught me as a youth. I was lucky not to have a fanatically fearful religious family, but an intensely devoted spiritual family, who expressed their faith and spirituality through their religious lives. That's a big difference. Fanatics are fearful. Devoted people are complelled by LOVE, and God is LOVE.
My father should have been a married priest. God knows, he gave as much time to the Church as any priest ever has. He was a knock-around guy. After Church he'd hit the local pub for a few. Pubs then, like the pubs in Ireland, were not dives, but neighborhood hangouts, where much more than drinks went down. But, Da, he was a priest at heart...a man of God. The Church loses so much when men like that are not used to serve as married priests.
At 80 yrs of age herself, my mother presented me for ordination. She said that is what God was trying to get through to me all those years... In the East, where married priests are the norm in the Church, one generation after another has priests in the family. Father to son... With us, it would have been father to daughter. Alas, neither father nor daughter are welcomed as priests in the Latin Rite of the Church. But, then would I have had the wonderful journey in my life if they were? Would I have discovered the Celtic Rite?
Da taught me about Charity. He said it was the MOST important thing we must have. We would be judged by God on how we loved. So, living each day as if it were the last translated into living each day with as much Charity toward others as I could offer.My brothers each died suddenly. No warning. They were about my age. So I have become even more sober regarding this living each day as if it were my last. Those I love KNOW I love them. There is no time in life to let those things go unsaid.
This week a local woman near my age was killed in a car accident. She swerved so as not to hit a deer. The deer is alive, the woman, sadly, died. I felt so bad all week and have been praying for her son and elderly mom. What a shock it is to lose someone we love suddenly. I remember the shock of my brothers...Then there was that little boy I read about yesterday, killed by his dad who is a priest... We do not know the day or the hour. Today's readings...how true.
So, do we live in fear or worry about the day or hour, or in joy and peace? It depends upon our readiness, I suppose. Life is a gift from God, and it'd be awful to live it without joy, or in dread. I know, because I have done that as well, but that is for another day's writing.Tonight, I give my life again to God, or better put, I acknowledge my life is in God's hands, and I'm glad of it! If I live to wake up in the morning, I will give thanks, as I do each morning.
Tonight I pray for those who have died suddenly leaving the sorrowful behind in tears.
Tonight I pray in thanksgiving for my Da and Mom who gave me my Faith, for my family where the seed was watered.
Tonight I give thanks for the love in my life, for my husband and daughter and our extended family and friends. I give thanks for our Church and the wonderful people in it. I give thanks for my religious order, and their love of God.
Tonight, I give thanks for my service dog, without whom I would be much less than I am able to be. Even now, she lies at my feet with her head on my foot...
Tonight, oh my God, I give You thanks in all things. If it be Your Will, I will awake in the morning to give You thanks again.
Goodnight God. I love You.
"In the Name of the Father"
This is from my Good Tidings Blog: Our Day Will Come www.blog.myspace.com/good_tidings
Catholic News Service ran a very short piece about Father Dagoberto Valle Arriaga, a Mexican priest convicted of killing his 8 year old son. It was a run-of-the-mill news article, nothing more. Much as one might read the cost of gas has gone up again, and maybe have the idea that both the writer and reader are getting used to such rotten news.
My dear God, in heaven! I can't help but feel really disgusted, revolted over the lack of outrage in the news article! I can't help but feel such anger myself, not only at the priest who would do such an unthinkable thing to his own child, but anger at the Church that would create a culture of fear in so many ethnic Catholic people, and outrage at the media for not being more outraged than I because I hear about priest-fathers hurting their children all the time. Not killing them physically, but doing their best to destroy any hope for a loving father in this life.
What in the Name of our Good God has happened to this Church? What has happened to the people of this world that a priest killing his son to protect his own worthless arse doesn't strike horror in the mind and heart of everyone?
Are there so few good priests left that this is just another news article about another priest doing evil to a child--the ultimate evil? Where are the good priests? Why, if they are out there are they not screaming about all this? Why don't they care? Do they all have something to hide, to protect? Where is their treasure? In the security of the priestly life, so that they will not speak up loudly in defense of the children of priests...the women of priests, the faithful who pay their salaries, expecting holy priests? I can't hear anyone? The silence is deafening.
Oh...look gas prices went down a few cents in our area...
Catholic News Service ran a very short piece about Father Dagoberto Valle Arriaga, a Mexican priest convicted of killing his 8 year old son. It was a run-of-the-mill news article, nothing more. Much as one might read the cost of gas has gone up again, and maybe have the idea that both the writer and reader are getting used to such rotten news.
My dear God, in heaven! I can't help but feel really disgusted, revolted over the lack of outrage in the news article! I can't help but feel such anger myself, not only at the priest who would do such an unthinkable thing to his own child, but anger at the Church that would create a culture of fear in so many ethnic Catholic people, and outrage at the media for not being more outraged than I because I hear about priest-fathers hurting their children all the time. Not killing them physically, but doing their best to destroy any hope for a loving father in this life.
What in the Name of our Good God has happened to this Church? What has happened to the people of this world that a priest killing his son to protect his own worthless arse doesn't strike horror in the mind and heart of everyone?
Are there so few good priests left that this is just another news article about another priest doing evil to a child--the ultimate evil? Where are the good priests? Why, if they are out there are they not screaming about all this? Why don't they care? Do they all have something to hide, to protect? Where is their treasure? In the security of the priestly life, so that they will not speak up loudly in defense of the children of priests...the women of priests, the faithful who pay their salaries, expecting holy priests? I can't hear anyone? The silence is deafening.
Oh...look gas prices went down a few cents in our area...
SOME END THE DAY DEAD
This is from my Good Tidings Blog: Our Day Will Come (www.
-- "In the Name of the Father"
Catholic News Service ran a very short piece about Father Dagoberto Valle Arriaga, a Mexican priest convicted of killing his 8 year old son. It was a run-of-the-mill news article, nothing more. Much as one might read the cost of gas has gone up again, and maybe have the idea that both the writer and reader are getting used to such rotten news.
My dear God, in heaven! I can't help but feel really disgusted, revolted over the lack of outrage in the news article! I can't help but feel such anger myself, not only at the priest who would do such an unthinkable thing to his own child, but anger at the Church that would create a culture of fear in so many ethnic Catholic people, and outrage at the media for not being more outraged than I because I hear about priest-fathers hurting their children all the time. Not killing them physically, but doing their best to destroy any hope for a loving father in this life.
What in the Name of our Good God has happened to this Church? What has happened to the people of this world that a priest killing his son to protect his own worthless arse doesn't strike horror in the mind and heart of everyone?
Are there so few good priests left that this is just another news article about another priest doing evil to a child--the ultimate evil? Where are the good priests? Why, if they are out there are they not screaming about all this? Why don't they care? Do they all have something to hide, to protect? Where is their treasure? In the security of the priestly life, so that they will not speak up loudly in defense of the children of priests...the women of priests, the faithful who pay their salaries, expecting holy priests? I can't hear anyone? The silence is deafening.
Oh...look gas prices went down a few cents in our area...
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Yeah, On What's REALLY Important
Tonight as I was playing with one of my websites I was looking for clip art to use next to the titles of my blogs. Little animals for the spirituality of animal care, teacups for the teapot spirituality blog, etc. Then I was look for one that could represent this blog. A piece of clip art about what is really important. That's right. Clip art expressing the important things in life.
I put in all kinds of keywords about things I thought were important to me, and so I figured to others too. Family, belonging, love, peace, goodness (only one clipart on Microsoft for "goodness" isn't that scary?), friendship, joy...I tried a lot of important concepts. All those things we crave and need in life. Somehow as appropriate as many seemed, I didn't click with any until I found a small icon of a person simply praying.
Why would that strike me as the best representation for what is really important at the end of the day? I think it's because it was a perfect example of what we truly need, what will keep us focussed on the most import parts of life, the very reason for life. When we truly pray, we must be humble. To truly pray we need to admit we need. We need to admit we are not complete in ourselves. We find peace we recognize we have everything we crave and need in our Creator! At the end of the day, we are who we are, what we are--creatures. Yet we are such blessed creatures, loved infinitely by our Infinite God! At the end of the day, we can rest...in peace. At the end of the day, it is our relationship with this loving God that is most important.
What a joy, and a comfort to know where we stand...loved eternally. Yeah, that's what's really important, and when that really sinks in, how can we but respond in love?
Thank you God, for this reminder of what is most important. And thank You for wanting my love in return. What a great end to the day.
Goodnight God.
I put in all kinds of keywords about things I thought were important to me, and so I figured to others too. Family, belonging, love, peace, goodness (only one clipart on Microsoft for "goodness" isn't that scary?), friendship, joy...I tried a lot of important concepts. All those things we crave and need in life. Somehow as appropriate as many seemed, I didn't click with any until I found a small icon of a person simply praying.
Why would that strike me as the best representation for what is really important at the end of the day? I think it's because it was a perfect example of what we truly need, what will keep us focussed on the most import parts of life, the very reason for life. When we truly pray, we must be humble. To truly pray we need to admit we need. We need to admit we are not complete in ourselves. We find peace we recognize we have everything we crave and need in our Creator! At the end of the day, we are who we are, what we are--creatures. Yet we are such blessed creatures, loved infinitely by our Infinite God! At the end of the day, we can rest...in peace. At the end of the day, it is our relationship with this loving God that is most important.
What a joy, and a comfort to know where we stand...loved eternally. Yeah, that's what's really important, and when that really sinks in, how can we but respond in love?
Thank you God, for this reminder of what is most important. And thank You for wanting my love in return. What a great end to the day.
Goodnight God.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sometimes We Fall On Our Faces...
I think everyone now and then has taken a fall. Ice, wet pavement, mud, a stumble over something we don't see...all those unexpected violent moments seem to happen when we're totally unprepared, maybe thinking of something completely apart from the danger at our feet. Not being mindful of our footing, down we go!
I had a fall like that tonight as I was stepping into my home after a long day. I was busy thinking about a conversation I'd just had with a very nice lady who was interested in buying a miraculous medal from our store. We talked a very long time, and then I headed home. My mind, however, was back wandering around the many things we touched on in our discussion.
Now, I have to take responsibility for this "accident" because I know the step into our house is steep and I always have to be careful. I've had bad falls before, you see, so I'm not unfamiliar with what might happen. Yet I was not mindful of the NOW, the moment in which I was living, stuck as I was in "the past" even though it was the recent past of just 20 minutes earlier. I was not living in the NOW, was not mindful of NOW, and down I went. I spare you the ugly details of the cuts, etc., as it is the lesson upon which I want to focus. I need to focus!!
How often do we live our days in the past? Whether it is the days of our youth, joyful or challenging, or downright painful, or last week's conversation that may have left us with much unsaid that has haunted us (if I only said ...). Maybe we focus on past relationships that have hurt us, or ones that have been so positive that we cannot bear to continue living in the flesh without that other, so we cling to memories without notice of today's Grace.
I discovered a wonderful lesson tonight. Sometimes at the end of the day we fall on our faces...because we are still back in the middle of the day. Sometimes in life we fall on our faces because we are not truly living fully in the NOW with all the potential given to us by God. If only this, if only that, while God waits patiently, lovingly in the present moment with outstretched arms of love, waiting for us to focus on Divine Love in this life NOW, or (yikes) waiting to catch us until we do become mindful of NOW and this moment's Divine Love.
I wish I could have learned this lesson from some mystic I've read and reread. Alas, I learn best from experience it seems!
I had a fall like that tonight as I was stepping into my home after a long day. I was busy thinking about a conversation I'd just had with a very nice lady who was interested in buying a miraculous medal from our store. We talked a very long time, and then I headed home. My mind, however, was back wandering around the many things we touched on in our discussion.
Now, I have to take responsibility for this "accident" because I know the step into our house is steep and I always have to be careful. I've had bad falls before, you see, so I'm not unfamiliar with what might happen. Yet I was not mindful of the NOW, the moment in which I was living, stuck as I was in "the past" even though it was the recent past of just 20 minutes earlier. I was not living in the NOW, was not mindful of NOW, and down I went. I spare you the ugly details of the cuts, etc., as it is the lesson upon which I want to focus. I need to focus!!
How often do we live our days in the past? Whether it is the days of our youth, joyful or challenging, or downright painful, or last week's conversation that may have left us with much unsaid that has haunted us (if I only said ...). Maybe we focus on past relationships that have hurt us, or ones that have been so positive that we cannot bear to continue living in the flesh without that other, so we cling to memories without notice of today's Grace.
I discovered a wonderful lesson tonight. Sometimes at the end of the day we fall on our faces...because we are still back in the middle of the day. Sometimes in life we fall on our faces because we are not truly living fully in the NOW with all the potential given to us by God. If only this, if only that, while God waits patiently, lovingly in the present moment with outstretched arms of love, waiting for us to focus on Divine Love in this life NOW, or (yikes) waiting to catch us until we do become mindful of NOW and this moment's Divine Love.
I wish I could have learned this lesson from some mystic I've read and reread. Alas, I learn best from experience it seems!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Christ came to chat
July 10, 2007 - Tuesday
Today was hot and humid, and I couldn't wait to close the shop and get home. I was just saying goodnight to a friend when a homeless man I have gotten to know well came walking into our store. Only recently our local business owners had a meeting with local police to discuss the problem of the local homeless who hang out near the stores, and in some cases frighten people off. The discussion was about what to do about the problem.
When BT walked into the shop tonight I was actually glad to see him. He had not been around in a few weeks, and when he's gone that long I figure he's in the hospital or jail, or maybe worse. I admit, I worry about him. Tonight he was coming back from a stay in the hospital.
Often enough when he comes, I can smell the beer breath, and tell him to watch his step because I'm not anxious to clean up any mess he may make if he bumps into counters and knocks items down. In fact, he has never made any such mess. Tonight I noticed his breath, but it was not more than one beer at the time. I come from a family that can easily recognize not just beer, but many of the other options, and we have a good idea by the look of a person about how many and what kind of intake they've had!
Tonight I gave him no warning, but instead I greeted him, happy to see he was not in jail... and was still alive. I was getting ready to close, and honestly didn't feel like chatting, but I did want to see how he was and where he'd been. We started talking and catching up. If BT were sober long enough, he could write an interesting autobiography. But he does love his beer, as he tells me often.
Somehow we got to talking, as usual about God, and forgiveness, and BT's choices, and the choices that are still before him. I admit, when we talk, some of my NYC street speech comes boiling to the top. I have discovered I am bilingual. I can talk to both sober and drunk speakers. He was rather shocked, because he said priests don't talk that way. I told him to be happy I was talking turkey to him, and wasn't Jesus Christ, or I'd beat him with a whip--to get his attention. BT is quite bright. He immediately got the reference.
Our chat led into some very deep talk of God, mercy, judgement, and I found myself thinking how much the world was missing with BT hiding his light under a bushel, or a glass. I told him so. I told him how intelligent he is, and that it was obvious to me, and that he was given this gift to use. We talked about that, in his language. He laughed a lot because he was amazed how fluent I am.
I was very aware the we were not there talking alone. Where two or more gather we know there is a Third. It's easy to think that I might have some words of wisdom for BT, afterall, I'm a priest. Ha! Don't ever let that fool ya! BT teaches me more about humility than I could ever teach him. He listens, he shares, he cries, he prays, and yes, he says he can't give up the beer.
I think BT is right. Alone he cannot. He knows he needs Christ's help. He asked me to pray that he could. He knew I was seeing his potential and he told me the things he had enjoyed in life, before he took this real nose dive and ended homeless. He couldn't see himself getting out of this rut. But he told me he did a lot of thinking and crying at night when he talks with Christ. So, when he and Christ walked out that door, after kissing my hand like a knight, and thanking me for taking time to talk when stopped in, I told him to visit whenever he wanted because we really have great talks.
Some locals have said there is nothing we can do for these homeless who seem to have no goals. I wonder. Even if we can do nothing, we know Christ can. Tonight, when Christ and BT came to chat, I realized that even more clearly.
At the end of the day, we will be judged on Charity. God have mercy on me.
Today was hot and humid, and I couldn't wait to close the shop and get home. I was just saying goodnight to a friend when a homeless man I have gotten to know well came walking into our store. Only recently our local business owners had a meeting with local police to discuss the problem of the local homeless who hang out near the stores, and in some cases frighten people off. The discussion was about what to do about the problem.
When BT walked into the shop tonight I was actually glad to see him. He had not been around in a few weeks, and when he's gone that long I figure he's in the hospital or jail, or maybe worse. I admit, I worry about him. Tonight he was coming back from a stay in the hospital.
Often enough when he comes, I can smell the beer breath, and tell him to watch his step because I'm not anxious to clean up any mess he may make if he bumps into counters and knocks items down. In fact, he has never made any such mess. Tonight I noticed his breath, but it was not more than one beer at the time. I come from a family that can easily recognize not just beer, but many of the other options, and we have a good idea by the look of a person about how many and what kind of intake they've had!
Tonight I gave him no warning, but instead I greeted him, happy to see he was not in jail... and was still alive. I was getting ready to close, and honestly didn't feel like chatting, but I did want to see how he was and where he'd been. We started talking and catching up. If BT were sober long enough, he could write an interesting autobiography. But he does love his beer, as he tells me often.
Somehow we got to talking, as usual about God, and forgiveness, and BT's choices, and the choices that are still before him. I admit, when we talk, some of my NYC street speech comes boiling to the top. I have discovered I am bilingual. I can talk to both sober and drunk speakers. He was rather shocked, because he said priests don't talk that way. I told him to be happy I was talking turkey to him, and wasn't Jesus Christ, or I'd beat him with a whip--to get his attention. BT is quite bright. He immediately got the reference.
Our chat led into some very deep talk of God, mercy, judgement, and I found myself thinking how much the world was missing with BT hiding his light under a bushel, or a glass. I told him so. I told him how intelligent he is, and that it was obvious to me, and that he was given this gift to use. We talked about that, in his language. He laughed a lot because he was amazed how fluent I am.
I was very aware the we were not there talking alone. Where two or more gather we know there is a Third. It's easy to think that I might have some words of wisdom for BT, afterall, I'm a priest. Ha! Don't ever let that fool ya! BT teaches me more about humility than I could ever teach him. He listens, he shares, he cries, he prays, and yes, he says he can't give up the beer.
I think BT is right. Alone he cannot. He knows he needs Christ's help. He asked me to pray that he could. He knew I was seeing his potential and he told me the things he had enjoyed in life, before he took this real nose dive and ended homeless. He couldn't see himself getting out of this rut. But he told me he did a lot of thinking and crying at night when he talks with Christ. So, when he and Christ walked out that door, after kissing my hand like a knight, and thanking me for taking time to talk when stopped in, I told him to visit whenever he wanted because we really have great talks.
Some locals have said there is nothing we can do for these homeless who seem to have no goals. I wonder. Even if we can do nothing, we know Christ can. Tonight, when Christ and BT came to chat, I realized that even more clearly.
At the end of the day, we will be judged on Charity. God have mercy on me.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
It's All About Love
As each day comes to an end there comes that time in the evening when I begin to unwind. Well, to be honest, it's not normally in the evening for me, it's usually very late at night. I'm a night person, it seems. It's in my genes. My mom was a night person, I am, and so is my daughter. So, when the day REALLY comes to an end, I start to unwind.
Sometimes, depending upon how well I'm living my intentions to maintain some form of a disciplined schedule, I actually sit, recollect and do a formal examine. An examine? Yes, well that's what some of us call it. It's kind of a personal test of honesty about how I've lived my day. Not like it's on a chart or anything like that (except if you really get into this and draw that line down the middle of a page...which I've not been known to do much in life). The examine, for me is about sitting myself before God Almighty, reflecting on the day, and my participation in it. To go one step more in honesty...often enough I don't sit at all, I'm lying in bed doing this. There in bed talking to the Creator of the Universe!
It's a good thing my notion of God is based upon the loving Dad I had. He often told me there was NOTHING I could ever do wrong in life for which he would not forgive me. WOW! I didn't dwell on it much as a youth, but I often remember those words of love now. He's passed on into God, but his words are still with me. He said that if he, as a sinner could forgive me, then he bound God to do him one better!
The end of my day often finds me thankful for this image of God...a loving parent Who embraces me and loves me despite my many failings at love. Oh, yeah, I get "the talks" from God. The Holy Spirit is sent to correct me and help me pick up my pieces best I can, and try to do better, but the talk is not a beating! It's the talk that flows from a Parent Who wants me happy, wants me to live this gift of life abundantly, and Who does all that is possible to get my mistakes repaired, or pull it all together for the good, because I do so much love God.
At the end of the day I finish my examine, often enough in tears, but always knowing how I will fall asleep in the Arms of Divine Love. And, so I thank God for loving me...loving me directly, loving me through my husband and daughter, and through my friends and religious community. And I thank God for accepting my love, poor as it is. I thank God for the chance to have tried today, and leave it in Divine Hands whether I will be here to try again tomorrow to love a bit better. At the end of the day it's all about Love.
Good night, God, I love You.
Sometimes, depending upon how well I'm living my intentions to maintain some form of a disciplined schedule, I actually sit, recollect and do a formal examine. An examine? Yes, well that's what some of us call it. It's kind of a personal test of honesty about how I've lived my day. Not like it's on a chart or anything like that (except if you really get into this and draw that line down the middle of a page...which I've not been known to do much in life). The examine, for me is about sitting myself before God Almighty, reflecting on the day, and my participation in it. To go one step more in honesty...often enough I don't sit at all, I'm lying in bed doing this. There in bed talking to the Creator of the Universe!
It's a good thing my notion of God is based upon the loving Dad I had. He often told me there was NOTHING I could ever do wrong in life for which he would not forgive me. WOW! I didn't dwell on it much as a youth, but I often remember those words of love now. He's passed on into God, but his words are still with me. He said that if he, as a sinner could forgive me, then he bound God to do him one better!
The end of my day often finds me thankful for this image of God...a loving parent Who embraces me and loves me despite my many failings at love. Oh, yeah, I get "the talks" from God. The Holy Spirit is sent to correct me and help me pick up my pieces best I can, and try to do better, but the talk is not a beating! It's the talk that flows from a Parent Who wants me happy, wants me to live this gift of life abundantly, and Who does all that is possible to get my mistakes repaired, or pull it all together for the good, because I do so much love God.
At the end of the day I finish my examine, often enough in tears, but always knowing how I will fall asleep in the Arms of Divine Love. And, so I thank God for loving me...loving me directly, loving me through my husband and daughter, and through my friends and religious community. And I thank God for accepting my love, poor as it is. I thank God for the chance to have tried today, and leave it in Divine Hands whether I will be here to try again tomorrow to love a bit better. At the end of the day it's all about Love.
Good night, God, I love You.
And the Beat Goes On
And the Beat Goes On...
July 2, 2007 1:47am Today
It was a strange and wonderful weekend for me. Joe and I spent it in Syosset, L.I. where my own personal history came flooding back into my mind and heart.
We were there for the ordination to priesthood of Maura Bernard. +Joe and +Katherine Kurtz, and +Peter Brennan were there together to lay hands. Right there is a historic group, when one considers each bishop, and his and her contribution to Church reform.
Maura asked me to preach at the ordination and it was a very odd feeling being back in Syosset, as a priest, preaching at the ordination of another woman in the CCC, in an Episcopal Church! Had anyone told me this would eventually happen, that this would be my life, when I was living in Syosset as a Sister of Mercy, I would have slapped them! How unique, how tailored our personal journeys are when we walk with Christ. If I had walked alone, it would have been a very different path.
The Sisters of Mercy have a huge convent and academy on Convent Road in Syosset. It used to be the novitiate building too. However, when I entered I was the only novice, and a building able to house a hundred novices was not the place to house one. So the novitiate formation program was moved to Brooklyn NY. I was the first one to enter the newly setup novitiate in Little Flower Convent on Ave D in East Flatbush. It seems like a million years ago, but today, when Joe and I visited Our Lady of Mercy Academy in Syosset and chatted with Sr Monica, it seemed like yesterday. Names flooded back. Memories flooded back. History was present. The past 40 years were a blur, and there I was back amid the Sisters who were, for a short time, my family. I missed them. I had loved them so much.
Sr Monica told me where some of the Sisters were now living. All retired in what used to be the motherhouse, until the community recently merged with other Mercy communities forming the Mid-Atlantic Community. So much change. So many dead or old. Oh, but that meant...
Yes, I was no longer that young sister. I thought, "but I feel the same, in a way." Sure, I have walked a different, but somehow similar path. My faith was still my faith... yet here I am an ordained priest outside the Church of my youth, and far from where I expected to be at this point in life.
And here I am--aging, So much older... Looking tonight at the pictures of some I knew way back then, as they celebrated their 50th jubilees this year, I thought, "oh how they've aged!" Then, it hit me...I had aged as well. How strange. How strange to be older. Yet how wonderful to have the dream of serving Jesus Christ still in my heart of hearts. There's that song...Forever Young. I love that song.
So much of this was in my heart as I preached at Mother Maura's ordination. Yes Maura, there is enough sap in these old trees to go around!!! Praise God that we are able to respond NOW. Praise God that age is meaningless and there is only the eternal NOW.
That knotwork of life is strange and beautiful, and I am deeply grateful to God for creating the art and beauty in our lives.
May God bless Maura as she continues her life in this new role, serving in a new way. God bless the Sisters who touched my life so deeply and profoundly, and who in many ways, set me on a course toward my own priesthood.
Being with others in the Celtic Christian Church, and other Old Catholics this weekend was wonderful. I thank God for my life, for Joe and Rose, and for the Faith that binds my extended family in Love.
Good night God, and thanks.
Cait
PS 1972 I was known as Sister Dominic Marie, RSM and this is my dear grandmother, Nellie Farrell. She was 90 yrs old and danced a jig when I left the convent.
July 2, 2007 1:47am Today
It was a strange and wonderful weekend for me. Joe and I spent it in Syosset, L.I. where my own personal history came flooding back into my mind and heart.
We were there for the ordination to priesthood of Maura Bernard. +Joe and +Katherine Kurtz, and +Peter Brennan were there together to lay hands. Right there is a historic group, when one considers each bishop, and his and her contribution to Church reform.
Maura asked me to preach at the ordination and it was a very odd feeling being back in Syosset, as a priest, preaching at the ordination of another woman in the CCC, in an Episcopal Church! Had anyone told me this would eventually happen, that this would be my life, when I was living in Syosset as a Sister of Mercy, I would have slapped them! How unique, how tailored our personal journeys are when we walk with Christ. If I had walked alone, it would have been a very different path.
The Sisters of Mercy have a huge convent and academy on Convent Road in Syosset. It used to be the novitiate building too. However, when I entered I was the only novice, and a building able to house a hundred novices was not the place to house one. So the novitiate formation program was moved to Brooklyn NY. I was the first one to enter the newly setup novitiate in Little Flower Convent on Ave D in East Flatbush. It seems like a million years ago, but today, when Joe and I visited Our Lady of Mercy Academy in Syosset and chatted with Sr Monica, it seemed like yesterday. Names flooded back. Memories flooded back. History was present. The past 40 years were a blur, and there I was back amid the Sisters who were, for a short time, my family. I missed them. I had loved them so much.
Sr Monica told me where some of the Sisters were now living. All retired in what used to be the motherhouse, until the community recently merged with other Mercy communities forming the Mid-Atlantic Community. So much change. So many dead or old. Oh, but that meant...
Yes, I was no longer that young sister. I thought, "but I feel the same, in a way." Sure, I have walked a different, but somehow similar path. My faith was still my faith... yet here I am an ordained priest outside the Church of my youth, and far from where I expected to be at this point in life.
And here I am--aging, So much older... Looking tonight at the pictures of some I knew way back then, as they celebrated their 50th jubilees this year, I thought, "oh how they've aged!" Then, it hit me...I had aged as well. How strange. How strange to be older. Yet how wonderful to have the dream of serving Jesus Christ still in my heart of hearts. There's that song...Forever Young. I love that song.
So much of this was in my heart as I preached at Mother Maura's ordination. Yes Maura, there is enough sap in these old trees to go around!!! Praise God that we are able to respond NOW. Praise God that age is meaningless and there is only the eternal NOW.
That knotwork of life is strange and beautiful, and I am deeply grateful to God for creating the art and beauty in our lives.
May God bless Maura as she continues her life in this new role, serving in a new way. God bless the Sisters who touched my life so deeply and profoundly, and who in many ways, set me on a course toward my own priesthood.
Being with others in the Celtic Christian Church, and other Old Catholics this weekend was wonderful. I thank God for my life, for Joe and Rose, and for the Faith that binds my extended family in Love.
Good night God, and thanks.
Cait
PS 1972 I was known as Sister Dominic Marie, RSM and this is my dear grandmother, Nellie Farrell. She was 90 yrs old and danced a jig when I left the convent.
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