Putting Christ in Christmas and Your Life.

There is always a lot of talk this time of year about the commercialization of Christmas and the attempts to make it a non-religious holiday. How interesting that those who wish to take Christ out of Christmas still want the celebrations and gifts...just under a different name. What they don't understand is that without Christ, you are left with just another self indulgent and mass marketed attempt to display our gluttony.

Like the shepherds who came in from the fields to find the child in the manger, we must watch and listen for the calling of Christ in our own lives. While they may have been given a bright shining star to follow, we are given the words of the adult Jesus to seek and find Him. When I was hungry you gave me to eat. When I was thirsty you gave me to drink. When I was a stranger, you took me in. Naked and you clothed me. I was sick and you visited me. I was in prison and you came unto me. These are the words that are the base of work for the Sister's of Charity and by the most Blessed Mother Theresa. And Theresa did not wait for those who hungered and thirst, were strangers, naked, sick or in prison to come knocking on her door. She sought out Christ. She has now entered into the house of our Father, but leaves us a bright shining star to follow.

In these days of "work stress" and "time constraints" we find that many make excuses for not aiding Christ on His journey. Excuses for not making room at the table for Christ as the stranger. Not caring for Christ the ailing. Not visiting Christ in his prison.

This Christmas may we all see Christ in need. May we hear the call of Christ at our door. May we welcome Him into our hearts and follow Him to the house of our Father. May we truly put Christ in Christmas in our actions and not just in words.

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

"Bah, humbug!" Dickens' Ebenezer Scrooge displayed his disdain for Christmas with these memorable words. Yet as we followed Scrooge's journey we learned from his past why he chose to close his eyes to the goodness around him and his heart to those who needed him.

Christmas has a way of dusting off memories that we have put away like the box of decorations in the attic. The season that relies so much on tradition can be painful for those who choose to dwell too much in the past rather than allowing past, present and future to co-exist.

Like magical gifts, memories of the past spring up quite frequently this time of year. Though sometimes painful, they can also help us to go back to a place of importance in our minds and make peace with it, cherish it or learn from it. Though my Grandmother is long gone, Christmas makes me remember pineapple sticks, lottery tickets and Grandma's laughter as she sat on Santa's lap. She created comforting memories for me to remove from an old tattered box, unwrap the tissue paper and display on the mantel of my heart. Heirloom memories to pass on to the next generation.

Christmas is a time of hope and renewal. God gave us a reset button 2000 years ago as a reminder of His forgiveness and His belief in the good that dwells in the hearts of all mankind. It's our job to open our hearts and spread the goodness that we are asked to give. God sends us here to do His work. To herald His message. As we travel to our ultimate goal of life everlasting, Christmas is a benchmark for the joy and goodness that we spread to others. It's also a reminder of what so many others have given us along our journey.

The Soundtrack to Our Lives.

Nothing is more revealing, emotionally driving, inspiring and mood altering than the music we fill our lives with. As we face the trials and tribulations of life we often turn to the art of music and song to aid us on our journey.

I can't imagine what life would be like without music. My greatest fear is that I would lose my ability to hear the sweat sounds of a string quartet. The boisterous brass of a Sousa piece. But music is so much more than just sound and rhythm. It is the emotion we see in a soprano when she cries out in an aria by Puccini. Or the rhythmic movements of a drummer as he pounds out a solo. I imagine my appreciation for these examples would carry me through a loss of hearing. Beethoven continued to compose after becoming completely deaf which means the music is always there, even when the ears are unable to receive it.

My life's soundtrack would consist of an ever changing eclectic mix of everything from Gregorian chant to hip hop. Classical arias and heart wrenching ballads. The music that I turned to in sadness to help me ride out the natural emotion. And the joyous symphony in which my heart was aided in celebrating.

I am always seeking a new musical genre to explore. If I were to be defined by my music collection I would pose a challenge to those who tried to define me. Different music for different moods. But always music. It is the art to which I have the most passionate affection. I have grown and learned through music. From my first 45 of Bert and Ernie singing "Rubber Ducky" to Beyonce`s spiritual "Halo" with a slew of Boccherini opuses and Rodgers and Hammerstien overtures filling in the gaps. My eyes fill with tears every time I hear the "Star Spangled Banner" or Shubert's "Ave Maria". And just try pulling me away from a piano sing-a-long.

It is music that soothes our wounded soul. That comforts us when we feel heartache. That aids us in the pursuit of love. And empowers us to achieve. As you travel down the road of life and stop to smell the roses, don't forge to listen to the music.

As the Clock Tics...

When life deals you a challenge you have to make it a positive, learning experience. Unemployment in a stagnant economy can be very frustrating. Searching for jobs that just aren't there. Watching businesses close, employed friends working long, stressful hours to cover the jobs cut from their workplace, and politicians living like kings showing they know how to make proclamations, but not jobs. There is so much to push us into a deep, self eroding depression. But as we travel through this difficult time we must realize that the clock is ticking on our life. It's not a stopwatch that can be paused for time to re-adjust. As the minutes, hours and days pass, we need watch the clock and continue our journey.

While I must admit I do suffer bouts of depression and frustration, I also experience a great deal of growth and inspiration. Tightening the budget of the unemployment check has helped me to sharpen my creative shopping, meal planning and entertaining skills. I don't have the excuse of too many hours at work to stop me from doing volunteer work, attend mass and use the gifts God gave me to inspire and encourage others.

As I search for employment I am guided by the job I do today. I am always on the clock. My boss is very hands on and is always there if I need help. He is forgiving when I slack off and appreciative when I give that extra effort. And I offer myself for those added difficult projects. Though I don't receive a weekly paycheck for this 24/7 career position, I do receive full benefits of spiritual growth and nurturing and a afterlife pension of eternal peace and happiness. It's a long term commitment and investment.

When God Hands Me His Paintbrush

After witnessing the beauty of raindrops on turning leaves. Having watched as a dramatic cluster of cold, grey clouds gave way to cracks of bright orange evening sunbeams. I viewed the art of God's imagination with the usual awe. Later, when I have exhausted my energy and pulled up the blanket, and my head slowly sinks into my pillow, I drift off to God's studio where He hands me His paintbrush.

As my pulse beats slow and steady and my body goes into temporary shut down, I take God's paintbrush and create from what I know. People, memories, and my imagination converge on my nighttime canvas. With a stroke of the brush I display my fears and anxieties. I add details of humor and irony to give a more pleasant nature. Colors swirl to create a mix of reality and fantasy. Places are represented by the emotion I recall, not by the reality of their layout or location. Furiously I paint. Until God sees a finished masterpiece.

As morning breaks I hand back the paintbrush. If I am satisfied with my creation, it is framed and hung in my waking memory. If I am not, it is quickly painted over in a whitewash and left on the easel for another session. I can't help but wonder if my afterlife will begin in God's studio. A blank canvas to be created out of the memory of all that I will have learned and experienced in life. In the meantime, I will enjoy the creative process. And try to do justice as I study with the Master.

Loving Autumn

The trees are beginning to lose their green as the days grow shorter and the temperature falls. Wildlife is everywhere, gathering their stash for the coming winter. My garden is pushing out the last fruits of my labor. A warm blanket is comforting on a cool Fall evening.

I love Autumn. To me it is the wise old season that follows the life giving spring and the fast and productive summer. Autumn is the time to look back at the previous seasons and to let nature prepare for the cold death of winter. After battling wildlife and elements in the Summer, Autumn allows me to surrender to the inevitability of my garden's demise. I still search for that last juicy tomato, or that squash that is now golden and ready for harvest. They may be far and few, but they are savored for their rarity and tenacity to survive.

The 'Autumn' years of life are much the same. I appreciate the wisdom I gather from those whose youthful greenery has faded and been replaced by a brilliant silver. I seek the last fruits of a labor made through years of knowledge gathering from those who look back on their golden Summers and youthful Springs. As they prepare for the cold, dark Winter, we in our Summer years can offer them warmth. An ear to hear their tales of standing like the mighty oak, lush and green, before the leaves began to fall and the season of their prime faded and passed, waiting for a new crop.

Like this time of year, the Autumn years are a time to see the beauty of a life's cycle. To assess what we have learned for the sake of a more bountiful harvest from the crop that will grow next spring. To pass on the knowledge we have gained to strengthen the green buds of May. They cycle continues. But each year can yield a better harvest if we take time to learn from the one we reap today.

Letting Go.

Everything in life is about letting go. The first thing you must do when you enter this world is let go of the security of your mother's womb. And our general reaction at the time is to wail at the loss. The first of many times we will experience the difficult situation of having to let go of something.

Family and friends. Material possessions. Emotional attachments. The list goes on and on. Everyday we are faced with the question; 'Should I just let it go?' But the answer is not always easy. Anger toward someone who has hurt you is a wall we have all built up. But can we let go of the anger and tear down the wall from our side to see if perhaps that person needs our help? Can we let go of our pride at the risk of humiliation? No good ever comes from a wall of silence. Dialogue may not give you the resolution you need, but it does give you a clearer view of the situation.

We all save things in our lives that we are not really sure why we keep around. Sentimental things that have a deep emotional connection. Reminders of something that once was. When we finally dispense with the item we rarely regret it. And we gain a freedom from the emotional dependency.

As we age we tend to get better at letting go of things. But it doesn't get any easier. In fact, we tend to have a lot more to let go of. Whether we face a slow debilitating end or a sudden snuffing out of our life, I do believe we will ultimately face the decision of having to let everything go. When I think of that last choice I will have to make, it makes it easier when it comes to my day to day options.

Whether it is material things, knowledge, talent, etc. unlike the board game, we will not win The Game of Life by what we HAVE at the end of the game, but by what we LEAVE. What we let go. I hope to face the Lord a naked man who gave of my heart and mind to all I could. I hope to give Him a soul vacant of animosity, anger, and prejudice. A soul that is cleansed of vanity, pride and arrogance. In the end, I will have to let go of that soul. It belongs to God.

Remembering 9/11

I still view with suspicion any sunny September morning. I remember the shock of seeing the second plane hit the World Trade Center on live TV. I feel a tinge of the numbness I felt as the days events unfolded. Confusion, fear and anger were the feelings that reigned that day. With the possibility of more attacks, chemicals like Anthrax being used, and malls (where I worked) being targets of terrorists, I started the days following 9/11 with great anxiety. It was then that I found the words of the 23rd Psalm to strengthen my resolve to go forward. "Yea though I walk through valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil. For Thou art with me." I always thought that Psalm was for the dying. But it is really for the living. A reminder that the hand of God is firmly in mine as we march against those with self darkened hearts. Something I am sure the victims and hero's of 9/11 knew.

From that day I found my spiritual center. From my confusion, I found direction. From my fear, I found prayer. From my anger, I found peace. We must never forget that day, and we must never forget what we learned from that day. God bless those who lost loved ones in the 9/11 attacks and may they always feel the love, support and prayers of a most grateful nation.

Writing Your Story

The image of a Moses-like old man or a deep reverberating voice and a lot of bright light were never the image of God that I envision meeting. First of all, if He is the all powerful entity that pulls all the strings, why appear old? Second, if God created us in His image then wouldn't he appear to be all too normal? That's how I see Him. A very happy, familiar face with a contagious smile. And I don't believe he will literally separate us from the good and the bad then damn the bad to an eternity of the agony of hell. My vision is of sitting down with my loving God and He simply says "Tell me your story".

My idea of the meaning of life is that we have the opportunity to write our story. It is that story which we will be held accountable for. If we pursued and achieved great wealth then what did we use it for? God probably won't be too impressed by what is left in your bank account when you enter His kingdom. A wall full of degree's will only give prudence to the Lord's judgement if the knowledge gained was used to create a better world. Artists who didn't use their talent will have a hard time showing results.

When we take our life's pen in hand we must write our story from back to front. Know where we want to go then bind the chapters of success and failures together in our living manuscript. We have no idea how many pages it will take to get our story to the finish. Some will write a short story that achieved more in less time while others will write page after page of good intentions that will drag on to many chapters of regrets, remorse and excuses. Some stories will be documentation of one who lived their life as 'an open book'. While others will tell a tale of surprises and humble works. The possibilities are endless. The opportunities are boundless.

Are you writing the story you want to be read by those you leave behind? If your story ends tomorrow are you prepared to share your manuscript with God? Have you used the plot twists of tragedy, loss, disappointment and failure to inspire, share courage and grow? Do you know what your story says and means?

I look forward to my chat with God. I hope we laugh a lot and get misty eyed remembering times of joy and sorrow. The story that I am writing will be easy to retell because it is not just my story but OUR story. God is and always has been a part of life. I have to keep asking myself if my works are worthy of being added to the volumes of God's library. Will he add it to his collection, or send the manuscript back for a re-write?

The Absence of Faith

Along the road of my journey I have crossed paths with a few people who consider themselves atheists or agnostics. At the risk of generalizing, I see they all have similar traits that may explain their lack of faith in a supreme entity. While very learned people who measure their successes in life by the degrees on the wall, the amount they spend to achieve them, and the stacks of Greek literature, novels of anti-establishment and dramatic essays of societal dissent, they completely close off their minds, hearts and spirit to the possibility of the presence of God in their lives. And they tend to think they are above all who partake in a community of worship and some even look down their noses at them. Although they say "that's fine for you but..."

Now, I am just going by the people I know, but they all come from very similar backgrounds. A troubled childhood, years of unhappiness, and bitterness toward a faith that disappointed them. This results in them being hypocritical of others. They tend to try to use science to try to dispel faith. They take the bible more literally than do those who enjoy the written word as a guide for life.

Enough of my dissection. My words today are not to direct negative thought against those who choose not to believe but to give better understanding. To gain empathy and prayers for those we tend to disregard as "on their own". To strengthen our own faith, and hopefully to open a door to the church to those who may linger outside.

Throughout our lives we are tested. Not just in our faith, but in our work ethic, through our moral compass and by our core beliefs. Passing the test always gives us the affirmation of the direction of our path to spiritual peace. And it moves us to a higher plateau that allows us to see life through a clearer point of view and to see the big picture. Being filled with the holy-spirit is something that cannot be understood until it is experienced. But we should never look at it as something that puts us above anyone else. It is a calling to extend a hand, open our heart and to bring others closer to God. While some may choose to wait for their 'death-bed conversion', we choose to make sure our affairs are in order early in life to assure our life's calling is complete. Perhaps our life's calling is to show another that it's never too late to open your heart to God. Even if is at the end of their life.

Choose to remain close to those who fail to see, feel and experience the presence of God. Live every day with the joy of God in your heart. Believe me, they are watching. Lead by example in your daily works and embrace those with hollow hearts. Spreading God's love isn't hard to do. It takes much more effort to turn away from Him. And that makes our job very easy.

All Creatures Great and Small

I'm going to get a little "Anti" here and hope I don't offend anyone. It is something I believe in and cannot find anything to dispute my passionate feelings.

When I see God's creatures I see the same freedom mankind constantly seeks. To soar to great heights like a bird. To run with the wind like horses. To float in contemplation like butterflies. Nature gives us so many opportunities to experience freedom. I feed the morning song birds every day to enjoy their contribution to the dawn of a new day.

I find as I have aged that I am more and more bothered by God's creatures on display. The last time I walked through the zoo I became extremely depressed by the lounging lions in their fiberglass "habitat". Or the overcrowded monkeys sitting around on a stage meant to resemble rocks. Worse than this, is a visit to Sea World, where "Shamu" jumps through hoops in a large fish tank. Or the dolphins swim around their pond so that children can pet them.

Now I am not suggesting that we have an animal 'Bill of Rights", but I do think we benefit more from observing animals in their true habitat than we do from having them trained to put on a show in a mock-up habitat. In this day of 'virtual' everything and the ability to watch anything we want from our computer screen, I can't figure out why we still lock up lions and whales and convince ourselves that they are happy. If you were offered a chance to live in a beautiful mansion with servants to feed you and clean up after you, you would jump at the chance. But if in exchange you were not allowed to leave the mansion, the facade was removed and hundreds of people would view you everyday, would you still take it? Would you act as if you were in your "natural habitat"?

Cameras can be hidden. Why not hide them around wild life preserves and the ocean and allow people to observe and study life as it was meant to be? Zoo's, aquariums and Sea World are made purely to make money. I was very happy to find that Sea World in Ohio has closed. I hope "Shamu" was set free to retire to the ocean, but I doubt it.

Who would trade the ocean for a fish tank? The skies for a cage? The jungle for a fiberglass stage? If you opened the tanks, cages and fences, would they stay in? Probably not. I'm not suggesting we set domestic pets free. Most of them, the ones given love and care, wouldn't leave if they had the opportunity. Sadly, the mistreated ones would probably fare better on the street. At least they would have a fighting chance to survive.

We have to co-exist with God's creatures. Respecting the beauty of their actions in the wild. Keeping the environment clean and friendly to their use. Technology has given us the opportunities to appreciate them in ways that allow us to observe their actions, respect the food chain, and study their natural instincts without turning them into circus acts or live stuffed animals. They are here for a reason. And we must appreciate their beauty and contributions to the earth. All creatures, great and small...except squirrels who are just evil and destructive, which is why you never see a statue or painting of St. Francis holding one.

Preparing Your Legacy

When presidents and politicians leave office, they have an entire staff to create their boss's legacy by starting foundations and putting their name on buildings, schools, highways, etc. It is all to get their message out. To remind people what they stood for. And sometimes, to change the way history treats them.

As individuals we have a responsibility for our own personal legacies. Not that we need to have roads named after us or foundations in our memory. We just need to be sure that the message we sent in life becomes a tool for those we leave behind.

The path we clear on our journey will be followed. The example we set will be used to chart future courses. Think of the brush and weeds cleared away by those who traveled before you. And we mustn't wait until the end to catch up.

Did we lead those who follow us on a clear path to God? Did we clearly pass the temptation to skip valuable life lessons just for the sake of speeding up or simplifying our journey? Did we show our grasp of the talents we are blessed with by using them to do God's work along the way? Reaching out to others and walking them through the bramble on life's journey will be our legacy.

We don't know when our journey will end. We do know that when God wakes us with a new day of challenges, our legacy planning should already have begun. Marble edifices crumble. Names on roads and buildings change when their patron is gone and forgotten. But when we chart our course to one of giving instead of receiving. One of reaching back to others rather than clinging to those around us. One where we are focused on the mission and not on our minor stumbles. Then we will leave behind a legacy that others will find easy to follow. And when God asks us "what is your legacy?" then all we will have to do is turn around.

Mindful of the Ashes

I tread on ground where mourners weep
The final place where loved ones sleep.
Beneath my feet my history lies
'neath soaring planes and sunny skies.
I tread the ground where family rests
Mindful of the ashes.

Mindful of their journey's end
Their solemn graves I lovingly tend.
Reflecting on their lessons of love
I seek my peace from spirits above.
I come to pray for eternal rest
Mindful of the ashes.

Mindful of their works in life
I seek their words to end my strife.
Mindful that their journey is done
I see them in the setting sun.
I see them now in God's embrace
Mindful of the Ashes.

Mindful that from dust they came
My final rest will be much the same.
I only hope that when I rest
My spirit joins those already blessed.
And I hope that those who tend my grave
Are Mindful of the ashes.

Growing with your Friends

Black suits and extra cash for a flower arrangement were in the back of our minds. I was making mental notes of what I would say in the eulogy. Our friend was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. He hated hospitals. He was ready. It was all just a matter of time. But God had a different plan for our friend. A full recovery and a prescription for a healthy lifestyle.

Sometimes you pray for things just because it's right. Though your faith in God is strong, your faith in others...well..not so much. My friend had given up and so we prayed more for an easy end then a full recovery, something we didn't see coming.

A 'new lease on life', a 'second chance', a 'reprieve'. Whatever God has given him, it is nothing short of a miracle. The Lord has once again moved in a mysterious way. But now, rather than the process of grieving, we are called to a more difficult task. To bring the appreciation of life and its blessings back to our friend. This second chance is not for him alone, but for all of us who, for the past six months have sat back and allowed him to give up. How many times do we lose someone suddenly and then wish for one more day to do and say all the things we should have? This is one time God is saying "Here you go."

My friend is a good person with a bad look on life. I am searching my bag of lessons collected along my journey to see what it is I can do to put him back on his. I could loan him the glasses I found that help me see the suffering of others. Or he could take a walk in the shoes I wear, the ones that eased my road back to prayer and meditation and the comforting traditions of the church in which I was raised. Or perhaps I can just give him my hand and lead him on his way. Much like the hand that pulled me from my darkness and toward the light of a new day.

I look forward to his journey. To see him gain purpose. To help him find the path that God placed him back on. God gave us a miracle. And it is our job to give validity to His message.

God Bless America!

Sometimes I wish our founding fathers would have added a couple of asterisk to our Constitution. Little notes to clarify what freedom means.

*This Constitution is a guideline for "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness". It gives you the freedom to work toward building a better nation than those our forbears left behind. It's laws can only be effective if followed, respected and under a personal oath to your creator to be responsible for your own actions.

**All elected officials who take an oath of office shall be held accountable for their promise to their constituents and their creator. Any person breaking their oath shall face judgement by their constituents and their creator.

***The "We the people" represents all citizens of the United States of America. Even the ones you disagree with and or dislike. We must always be United. Like our family, we don't have to like all of our fellow citizens, but we should love our fellow countrymen.

****Tho this document and nation does not endorse a national religion, it is not meant to suppress any particular religion by the separation of church and state. A truly free nation shall consist of all methods of worship and it's success depends entirely on the faith and belief in the righteousness of it's cause.

Even in our country's darkest hours we know that God does bless America. Our freedom is earned every day. Men and women protect our rights around the world and put their life in the hands of God to do that. We may disagree with those in power, but we must remember that a democratic majority put them there. And if the majority sees fit, shall remove them in just a few years time. As faithful Americans we put our trust in God and wait out the period of discontent by exercising our freedom of speech, and respecting that of others.

Thank you God for the blessings our nation bestows on us. Make us good citizens who make conscious decisions at home and at the ballot box. May we continue to grow as a world leader and spread the freedom to give You thanks to all corners of the world. God Bless our nation and all of its citizens.

Happy Independence day!

Envision your Finish

What a week! Two celebrity icons pass away on the same day. Two journeys come to an end. Two lives so similar and so different. Two very clear messages.

Farrah spent most of her life celebrating and marketing her God given gift of beauty. She didn't just rest on the bank ability of her looks. She learned acting. She created works of art. She lived and loved. Just when you may have thought this was her life's journey, she is thrown a loop by being diagnosed with cancer. Instead of opting to privately endure her battle, she invited the cameras in to document the suffering that goes with it. So many of us have experienced a loved one fighting cancer, but when a celebrity brings it to a headline, it makes us more aware of what so many are going through. I think Farrah's true mission was to remind us that everyone feels pain, loss, and faces death, no matter who they are. Farrah lived as an icon, but died as the real, fragile human being that she was. The pretty facade hid a strong will and life with purpose.

Michael Jackson was raised in the spotlight. Constantly under the microscope, he spent his journey seeking privacy and a childhood he never had, while using his God given talent to fill the world with music and entertainment. Constantly re-inventing himself, he was the comeback king. But, like Peter Pan, he never seemed to grow up. He never wanted to. I can't help to wonder what he would have been like had he "put away such childish things" and embraced adulthood. A lot different, but I'm not sure he would have had to worry about things like tabloids and paparazzi. His masks drew more attention then deflected. But a child wouldn't know any better. Normally our childhood ends and we mature with what we learned as children. Michael never let it end. And now he leaves the world unfinished by choice. It kind of makes you appreciate being an adult.

From the ends of these two journeys, we are reminded that our journey too will end. Probably when we least expect it. Are we ready? Can we face God knowing we gave of what he asked of us to others? That we led others to Him through example and words? That we represented Him through our actions and our heart? If He ends our journey tomorrow, have we packed and prepared today?

A Father to Emulate

I seem to get all of the sensible things I pray for. I remember, about twenty years ago, praying for patience. I prayed for years to be more understanding that things take time and to be able to enjoy the time it takes. Before I knew it I was hearing people say "I wish I had your patience".
Prayer answered.

I am praying for a lot of things these days. A job. Focus. Eyes to see where I can use this time to help others. Strength to carry the burdens of others for a while to give them a break. I reach out to one saint who seems to be the role model for achieving all of these. My patron Saint, St. Joseph.

St. Joseph must have been a very patient and content man. He kept his family safe, fed, sheltered and protected them from straying from their faith. As I moved my life more in line with my patron, I realized how much my own father is like St. Joseph.

You really don't get to appreciate the sacrifices of your parents until you can see their journey through adult eyes. To steer your life through difficult times and still keep your focus on God's big picture. What appeared to be an idyllic time for me as a child, turned out to be the result of my Dad putting in long hours at work during a bad economy, giving up personal needs and wants so us kids could have a little extra, and loving parents who made sure we all made it to church on Sunday to give thanks for all of our blessings.

Now, as we are all grown, Dad still keeps us focused. Losing Mom so suddenly, was devastating for us all, but for Dad it was also the loss of his best friend. But in true form, Dad has once again steered us through a difficult time. And I am sure we helped him also. Grief is a process that nurtures growth out of the darkness. And out of the darkness, we have once again grown as a family.

When I was a kid I remember putting my little feet into Dad's shoes, trying to imagine that some day I would fit into them. Those shoes still seem so much bigger than my feet will ever be. My feet are still figuratively growing as I continue to find my way down God's path. But Dad gave me a pretty clear map to follow my journey of life.

Happy Father's Day Dad!

Strong Roots and Many Blooms

That is how I describe my family tree.

Over a century ago my ancestors brought their European ways and religious values, packed in their tattered trunks and suitcases and came in search of a better life. Leaving behind the oppression that kept their quality of life at the standard chosen by the Emperor, Czar, King etc.

Faith brought them here. They had no idea of what they would experience. The first disappointment was that the streets were NOT paved with gold and that immigrants were immediately placed at the bottom of society. But freedom was worth the climb. And as far as I know, none of them moved back to Europe. Or wanted to.

It is here where they began to build families, communities and churches. The faith that sustained them on their ocean voyage was honored by the building of so many beautiful churches. Many, still home to their ethnic community. They struggled to survive difficult times, but always made time for prayer and devotion and to give thanks to God.

These strong roots are what anchors my mighty oak of a family tree. I am but a gardener. My job is to water, to add fertilizer (sometimes a little too much) and to make sure the blossoms are enjoyed by one and all. Our tree is rooted in the journey of our ancestors and it's branches reach upward toward the heavens in hopes of one day touching the hand of God. The leaves that grow through their cycle of life, then die and fall, become the mulch that keeps our tree growing through the cold, dark winters. New buds of life grow in the shadow of firm, older branches.

I am but one of a long list of caretakers to this tree of life. And I do not work alone. Our tree does not stand strong and tall just by chance. It is a result of years of cultivation, of weathering many storms, and the nourishment and freedom to grow in the land where it was planted.

The Art of Faith

When I look at the Pieta I am awestruck at the emotion in the image of Mary holding her dead son. The love, pain and numbness. Michelangelo sculpted not only with his hands but with his heart.

The Pieta has always been a favorite of mine. Perhaps because my parents and grandparents each experienced the death a child. Or perhaps it is the reminder that life is a circle. We see the blessed virgin looking down at her helpless son much like she did in the manger in Bethlehem, as an extension of God and his love for humanity. Only now there is also loss. One must imagine that Mary was at that point experiencing the most difficult test of her faith. She had to believe that this end was merely the beginning. While she knew the big picture the message of Christ was bringing, she was a mother. And Michelangelo's masterpiece shows no shining halos, no hovering angels, just a mother grieving her son.

It is the human side of Christianity that often gets lost. The Pieta reminds us of that. We can go into any church and see the statues and paintings of saints with golden halos and symbols of their life's work. They look confidant and serene. But it's the side we don't see that we need to guide us on our journey. The sainted figures most often lived conflicted lives, often leaving a faith they were born into to preach Christianity. And the consequences were torture and execution.

We need to remind ourselves that those stone edifices standing on their pedestals that seem so out of reach were once people just like you and I who chose to listen to God's call and were empowered by their faith to bring others closer to God and put them on a path to heaven. We can choose to do the same. And we have the advantage of the Internet to do it!

This Too Shall Pass

For the past week and a half I had intended to write a blog entry about the importance gardens have played through the dawn of time and to compare it with my own, and how we cultivate family and friends in our own personal garden. Well that's it in a nutshell. It would have been the topic, but God has a way of letting you know when he has a different lesson to learn.

"This too shall pass". That phrase keeps popping up in my head. It spilled out onto my tongue as I was driving to the cemetery on the one year anniversary of Mom's passing. As I watched the almost black clouds building over the direction of Mount Olivet Cemetery, my cell phone rang. It was my sister, who asked if we shouldn't wait to go after mass. "This too shall pass" came into my head and I said "no, it will be all right". I think I am the only one who didn't drive through any rain. I waited and thought of the times my Mom had said "This too shall pass" when I was all worked up over something very temporary. The storm clouds passed and I used the phrase to compare the dark clouds to the strains and pain of mourning. Somethings pass quicker, but all eventually does.

As I mentioned at the beginning, I have been working on my garden. Planting seedlings of tomatoes, peppers, carrots and sunflowers. Thinning out my raspberries, and planting geraniums, salvia, marigolds and various other blooms. I Thought of the garden of Eden, of Christ in the garden. My angel figures made it so peaceful to work and think. Then, like every year, I forgot about my spring allergies. I have been coughing, wheezing, and sneezing as my eyes watered and my head filled up with pressure. I got worse each day and was popping medication and drinking home remedies. I was miserable!

Then I stood at my window looking out at the new buds on my clematis. The clematis likes to tease me every year. Everyday it looks like they will pop open. But they just love to build up the anticipation of their beautiful blooms. I told myself to be patient, it will be worth it. In the meantime I sat at the computer with a box of Kleenex, waiting to find myself with a better, more positive outlook toward spring and my garden. I looked up the origin of "This too shall pass". I'll let you find out the story of King Solomon and the ring, but the thing I learned that it is a double edged sword. This allergy attack will pass, and I will feel better. But my blooming garden will also pass, and I will be digging up dormant bulbs and dead roots in the fall. My life too will come to pass. And I hope to be remembered for the garden I cultivated and not the coughing and sneezing I put up with to do it.

Happy Mother's Day!

On this day when we pay homage to Mom's everywhere, let's not forget the Mother we most often turn to in difficult times, but often neglect when everything is going good.

Taking on the task that God asked of her and giving herself fully to Him, Mary set an example to all mothers of faith, love and sacrifice. She truly earned the honor of being the "Blessed Mother" to us all.

Today as we thank our mothers by bringing her gifts or cards, by taking her to brunch, or by placing flowers on her grave, take a little time to say "thank you" to the Blessed Mother, for the sacrifices she has made, for the unconditional love she has for us and for her strengthening our faith in God. And especially for guiding and watching over our own mothers.

Happy Mother's Day!

My Rosary

In seeking the soothing faith of my grandmothers, I familiarized myself with a source of their comfort, the rosary.

When we die, a rosary will be placed on our hands as if we are in prayer. But do we actually pray the rosary? Do we remember how? A few years ago I found the rosary that came with the little book my parents gave me for my first communion. I went on line and downloaded a page detailing me on how to pray the rosary (my cheat sheet.) My Grandma used to tell me that when she couldn't sleep she would take the rosary to bed and she would never finish. I tried it and it worked. Unfortunately one evening I must have pulled it apart because I found a long row of beads with one missing when I woke up. Fortunately it was lovingly replaced by a beautiful one from my Godchild. And since then the rosary has become more than a sleep aid.

In my difficult year my new rosary became an accessory, resting in my pocket much like a security blanket, guiding me through prayer when the troubles of the world seemed to hinder my happiness and connecting me to the Blessed Mother, always a gentle soothing balm for a soul in need of cooling down.

There are days when I tell myself I will pray the rosary, but don't get around to it. And I often put it off as if it was a chore. But in time I eventually find my way to the little box on my nightstand and release the link of smooth beads that will glide through my fingers as any ire disappears and my focus turns to the gentle lady who watches over me and guards my faith.

So many people these days don't even remember how to say the rosary. I didn't, but it was worth learning. And you can cheat! I still do. But the end result is a resetting of your priorities. A cleansing of your anxieties. And who doesn't need that these days?

Dawn's Early Light

This morning I was awaken by a warm breeze blowing in from my open window. This was the first evening of the spring when I was able to enjoy the fresh air as I slept. The birds began chirping as the darkness of night began to fade with the rising of the sun. As my coffee brews I enjoy the silence broken only by the gurgling of my morning java. Fairly quickly the kitchen light is invaded by the brightness daybreak.
It is in the still, quiet of the morning that I feel closest to God. When everything is new again. A fresh start is at hand. The prior evenings anxieties and worries had been mulled over and thought out as I drifted off to sleep. Now, as I sip my coffee and enjoy the birds songs, God smiles and sits with me. We plan our day.

Finding Jesus

I've never liked that term. "Have you found Jesus Christ?" Or "I found Jesus!" To me it makes one feel that for a time Jesus was hiding from you. Or that He left.

It has taken me 40 years to draw myself closer to Christ. My "Annus Horribilis" last year took me on a roller coaster full of emotional drops and hills of momentary outpourings of support. As the ride came to a complete stop, I jumped out in search of a solid path. That path led me to the doors of the church. And for the first time in my life I realized they were solid and not the revolving doors that I had treated them as for so long. My friends like to joke about plaster falling on their heads if they walk in after a long absence. I have yet to hear of this ever happening.

The old familiarity of mass. The comforting prayers. The feeling of a new beginning each week. This became my solid ground. And for the first time I could look upon the crucifix and get an appreciation of what real suffering is. My upheavals seemed small and temporary. And it reminded me of the promise of resurrection. I recalled my Mom in prayer reflecting as she looked upon the cross. I found her path.

I didn't find Jesus. He wasn't gone. He was always right there. The best way I can describe this is that He was always standing nearby me. Watching me. But I was complacent with his presence. Like a familiar piece of furniture. You pass it by constantly, but do you ever appreciate it's beauty and functionality? Suddenly I noticed Jesus smiling at me. Holding open a new door for me. Giving me a pat on the back when my spirits were low. He's done this all my life, but I wasn't paying attention. I guess I would prefer the statement 'Have you realized that Jesus is always present in your life?'.

So as time takes me away from my 'horrible year', I begin to feel that out of the ashes of grief and despair comes a new awakening of a different world. A phoenix rising to a higher plateau. 'Annus Horribilis' has ended. 'Annus Mirabilis', my 'year of wonder' has begun. I didn't have to look far for Jesus, He was always there. I just needed an eye opening experience to see Him.

Life, Death and Resurrection.

This Easter ends a very special journey for me. It began last Easter with a gathering of my family. I didn't go to mass that day as up until that time I only went when I felt the spirit moved me. I had all the God in my life that I needed. Easter with my family is always enjoyable, as any holiday we get together. My Mother and I had a fierce competition in Wii bowling. Then my family played cards for quarters. Mom clean our clocks. She also asked me to take a picture of her from above with her head back, as we joked about how it made our skin smooth out, making us look younger.

A few short weeks later my journey took an unexpected turn. Summoned by a phone call to the emergency room, we spent the day in vigil at the bedside of our unconscious Mother. My path took a drastic turn as I witnessed Mom's journey end.

From there I wandered through the dark abyss of grief. Going through the motions of everyday life in a fog of uncertainty and loss. One bit of comfort that came to me was the support from my Mother's friends and family in the form of several very kind mass offerings. We traveled to many area churches. Each time I tried to make sense of Mom's much too early demise. Each time I was drawn into the celebration of the Eucharist and the ritual and symbolism to which I was raised. Mom was gone, but she left me a map to follow.

When I was a young boy in school, Mom would often put a surprise in my lunch bag. I couldn't help but smile when I would find a special treat in the form of candy, or cookies, or a little note of encouragement. Now that Mom had gone, I would continue to find little notes she left for me in the form of memories long forgotten. I would recall her showing me how to hold my hands in prayer. Helping me to learn the 'Our Father' and the 'Hail Mary'. I remembered how she encouraged our involvement in church activities. She would explain the meaning of why we do the things we do as we helped her change candles, fill the holy water fonts, and wipe down the pews at St. Mark's church. The memories and lessons were tucked away in us to be found years later when we needed them. And we needed them now.

The special masses eventually ended. But the peace I found in church became such a part of my life that I started to find myself being "moved by the spirit" each week. Mom was guiding my hands in prayer to help me move on without her. After 40 years, I began to experience the path of Christ in a way I could never imagine. I learned to give comfort to strangers, hope to those who mourn, and to set an example for those who lost their way. For the first time I have experienced Lent in the way I was supposed to. Through sacrifice and passionate devotion. The Jesus Christ who I always knew as the figure on the crucifix, became a constant presence in my life. A daily companion. A teacher. A friend.

Easter Sunday this year will be bitter sweet. Moms not here. Instead I awake to find one more Easter basked prepared for me by her with love. While Mom's death came too soon, it came at a time of year that she would have chosen. As we prepare to mark the one year anniversary of her passing with a family gathering at mass, we are fortunate to be reminded of the promise of eternal life. We are reminded of the suffering of Christ and his resurrection. We are reminded that when life on earth ends, the kingdom of heaven begins. Each year the pain of her passing will be preceded by the reminder of Easter's promise. As a child my Mom guided my hands to prayer. When she left this world, she placed my hands in the care of Christ and sent me on my way. Your Mother never really leaves you. She just gives you space to grow until you see her again. And the promise of Christ tells me I will. Alleluia!

Holy Week

The christian journey once again brings us to the core of our belief. Christs entry into Jerusalem, hailed as the messiah. The son of God begins the journey to everlasting life.

When I was a kid growing up in the Catholic church, Holy Week was held with the reverence you would expect. We always had to go to confession before Easter. Fasted and abstained on Fridays during lent, and got new dress clothes for Easter Sunday. We were often spared Holy Thursday services, but Dad would always go. It was the first mass I served as an altar boy. Talk about a baptism by fire.
We knew that we were off school on good Friday to attend mass. I still recall stores closing from noon until 3. After mass we would decorate the Easter eggs that would go into the packed baskets of ham, kielbasa, lamb shaped butter and other Easter essentials like horseradish and jelly beans. The baskets that Mom would prepare for blessing on Saturday morning. She would let us nibble on some goodies that evening, but we weren't allow to eat any of the blessed food until Sunday. Saturday night was spent taking our baths and making sure our shoes were shined and shirts were ironed. We always looked our best for Easter Sunday mass. It was a wonderful celebration of life represented by big families gathering among new spring flowers, joyful singing and a feeling of renewal.

I hope children are still introduced to the Holy Week journey. From the palms on Palm Sunday, through the stations and adoration of the cross, to the mass of the resurrection on Easter Sunday. A story told for thousands of years, enacted for us annually through prayer, song, and symbolism. This is the heart of our belief. The reminder of the promise of eternal life. Why we prominently hang the crucifix. And why we find strength though Christ's suffering. Suffering eventually ends. And the promise of a new day and a new life gives us hope for tomorrow. Not a bad message in these trying times.

In the Garden

Lent and Easter is always such an emotional time in the Catholic church. The images, the music, the ceremonies are meant to stir the heart and stimulate the mind to strengthen the faith. This is the home of Christianity. And we need to renew our core beliefs once a year to combat the everyday evils that lead us astray.

While the passion and crucifixion of Christ are often the most painful to try to imagine, I am most often in sympathy and devotion to Christ in the garden at Gethsemane. The image of Christ as most human. At first wanting the cup to pass as he faces the will of God. Feeling abandoned by his disciples in his hour of need.
When I see paintings of this moment I just want to become James or John and go to the garden to lay a hand on Jesus' shoulder and say "It will be alright, I'm with you."

I have been in a situation where I found myself alone in a crisis with nobody around to lend support. And my love of God was eclipsed by my fear of what he asked. But I gather he needed me to show him my weaknesses so he could infuse me with a spirit to guide me through. And He did.

Repeatedly Christ waits for us in the garden. Do we use the excuse of our evenings feast followed by too much wine as a reason to let Jesus suffer for us alone? A night on the town on Saturday night makes a Sunday morning mass a little harder to make. Harder, but not impossible. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

When we take that one hour a week to join Christ in the garden to pray, we not only give thanks for the sacrifice he accepted at Gethsemane, but we accept his hand on our shoulder as we suffer life's trials and tribulations. Walking with Christ on our journey to eternal life.

Let Francis Take the Lead

Everyday I turn on the news and see a story of someones hardship. They lost their job, their home, their 401k. Corporations are losing billions or going under. People are being exposed for stealing billions from others. Politicians selling appointments and leadership positions. It goes on and on. Everyone and everything is so focused on what we have, don't have, or have had taken away. A stark reminder of the value of fame and fortune is the tragic story of Natasha Richardson's end. The famous family, the money, the fans didn't matter in the end. Her family had to watch as her life came to an end, and I am sure the only thing that made the difficult situation more bearable was and is the love, support and prayers of family and friends. These are things that nobody can take away.

When we look at the life of St. Francis we see a man who learned at a very early age what true wealth is. He gave away everything he had to show others his faith. He learned to love and respect everyone and everything that God put on this earth. And he guided others away from worshiping material goods and toward the path to eternal peace through the charity and love.

If we examine our lives, the first thing we tend to notice these days is what we have lost. What we must now do without. But when doing so, we should take a look around us and see what others are forced to do without. We may not have what we had yesterday, but we have so much more that many people will ever have. Letting our loss guide us to giving will add wealth to our souls.

I'm not suggesting that we all give away our possessions and become Franciscans. I am suggesting we take a closer look at what is important. You can't take your 401k, your SUV or your summer cottage to heaven. God won't care that your name is on a deed or a title when he judges you. It will be the riches you have gathered in your soul that He will itemize. And you can't blame Bernie Madoff for what you are lacking in your heart.

Morning Prayers

Lately I have been finding the power of prayer and it's ability to bring me peace of mind and strength of body. Some people only see the repetition of phrases and old words that seam out of date and from a time when the faithful were a simpler people. While this may be true, it doesn't mean that we cannot receive the same fulfilment that our parents, grandparents and ancestors received from the simple chanting of words of devotion.

When I was a boy I fondly remember mornings with my grandmothers. It was always a special time when visiting one grandmother, or having a visit from the other. Both could always be found sitting in a chair near a well lit window. God's morning light shining onto their tattered prayer books. I would quietly enter the room, sometimes I would just pass through on the way to the kitchen, other times I would just sit nearby until Grandma finished. It was the same with both of them. A comforting smile for the start of the day. Sometimes I would hear "I'm almost finished" or "I'm praying for you kids now". You could see the faith, love and devotion on Grandma's face as she closed her prayer book and rubber banded it to the others she had already completed. I knew that someday I wanted to have that same look on my face as I started the day.

My Grandmothers weren't the only faces I could see the results of morning blessings on. My mother always seemed to be one with the spirit at mass. Especially after communion. I was always curious as to what she was praying for so intently. I only knew that when she finished, she had that same look of serenity as my Grandmothers. One hot summer, Mom volunteered me to serve (I was an altar boy) at many of the weekday masses. She would tell me I would enjoy the air conditioning in the church that we didn't have at home. Now that she is gone I realize that she was guiding me to prayer. And probably trying to shake out a few of my childhood demons.

In this past year of loss and grief, I found my way to that chair by the sunny window. My prayers are a mix of traditional, modern and a few I wrote myself. I also find myself with my rosary, calming my anxious soul, clearing my troubled mind. I know why my Mother and Grandmothers had that look of peace when they finished their prayers. They began their days by opening their hearts to God and by giving their days to Him.

I encourage you to begin this ritual if you haven't already discovered it's benefits. Here is a simple prayer to help you start:

The Good Morning God Prayer
Good Morning God!
You are ushering in another day, untouched and freshly new.
So here I am to ask you, God, if you'll renew me too.
Forgive the many errors, that I made yesterday,
and let me try again dear God to walk closer in Your way.
But Lord, I am well aware, I can't make it on my own.
So take my hand and hold it tight, for I cannot walk alone.

Fishing for Catholic Renewal

As someone who has had my differences with the Catholic church over the years, I never stray from a discussion on the merits of being, not only a Catholic, but a PRACTICING Catholic. There is a difference!

Having been raised in the Catholic church by parents who were very active in our local parish and encouraged the same from us kids, I have taken every possible view of the church. From being the sheep herded into mass each Sunday. Through my walking out and protesting changes. My years of rebellion. To finding my path to the front pew. I now confidently go to mass knowing that I have taken my faith apart to see how it works, and put it back together.

I don't want to make excuses for some church policies. Or even the lack of enforcement of others. And don't think that I am too pleased at how casual mass has become. I was born after Vatican II, but feel I would have been more comfortable with my religion BEFORE they dumbed down the mass to make it simpler. The problem with the enforcement of Vatican II reform's seems to have been the under estimating of the intelligence of the Catholic people at a time when education levels were increasing. Sunday mass has become a hand holding community sing-a-long social hour. What happened to the reverence we once held toward God's house? We used to only speak in a whisper before mass out of respect for those praying. Now the volume level before mass seems to resemble a gymnasium before a basketball game. And when did t-shirts, jeans and athletic shoes become your 'Sunday best'? Don't even get me started talking about the parents who let their children wander around the church during mass.

It is the content of the mass that I am going for. I usually choose the earliest mass, when most people are sleepy...and quiet. While you may disagree with my complaints, and prefer the openness and comfort level the church has developed, you can't deny that these observations do keep some people away.

The mentality that comes with the modern comfort level is the 'drop in/drop out' attitude. People seem to think they are entitled to partake in the sacraments on an 'as needed' basis. Marriage, baptism and burial. It seems many people think that just because their parents attended mass regularly. And because they come to church every Christmas and Easter, they are entitled to the churches blessing when their social circle expects Catholic tradition. The equivalent of only showing up to work on payday...and expecting a bonus!

It's difficult to experience the joy of weekly spiritual enrichment when you don't keep at it. Exercising your faith, like exercising your body, needs to be a commitment. It won't strengthen unless you create a routine. And like physical exercise, you WILL feel results.

I have found this path. Believe me, I was once the 'drop in/drop out' Catholic I described. And I got out of my religion what I gave. Until one day I found myself in prayer more often then usual. I found the doors to God's house still open and always welcoming me back. I also found that I can tune out the distractions during mass and experience the weekly renewal that I had such a deep need for. And it carried over to my every day life. I stopped following my personally created 'religion' in which I believed in God and said my prayers every night. I found that there is much more to faith enrichment than letting Him exist in my little world. We have to learn to exist in HIS world. The church provides guidance and structure to keep our mind and hearts on the path to eternal peace. It also helps us to create a little peace for us here on earth.

Wanting To Be There

I walked to mass on Wednesday evening. It was Ash Wednesday. A light rain was falling, but I walked anyway. My neighbor, who has recently begun attending mass again, joined me. The church quickly filled and an unusual quiet reverence permeated the atmosphere. I looked around and was quite moved by those who, today, instead of quietly chatting before mass begins, were kneeling in prayer. Was it the current economic situation? A need for a stable force in our lives? Or were these people, like me, coming to experience lent to strengthen our love for God and to walk with Christ on his final journey? All good reasons.

It was very hard not to feel emotional by this experience of so many people, together in deep prayer. At the beginning of his homily, Father noted that he was moved by the attendance at all of the day's masses and the steady stream of people coming to self administer their ashes throughout the day. Even he seemed a bit choked up when he told the congregations that it was NOT a holy day of obligation. We were there, not because we had to be, but because we wanted to be. And you could tell by the looks on the faces around us, that we were.

How wonderful it would be if the churches of all denominations would fill up each week with people who want to be there. I am sure the unemployment rate is bringing many people back to this refuge of stability. And let's face it, in this job market, prayer helps.

We can look back at the first decade of this new millennium and see turmoil, unexpected tragedy and great uncertainty. But one common denominator is that these past few years gave us an opportunity to turn to God for comfort and guidance. "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For Thou art with me;" God is always there to comfort you in his arms. But you have to WANT to be there to feel them.

God's Snowy Speedbump.

It's a beautiful snowy February Saturday morning in Michigan. A usual we have heard from the local meteorologists about the WINTER STORM WARNING and in their usual Chicken Little way, they have managed to take a seasonal painting of the landscape and turn it into a BREAKING NEWS EVENT. It's not, its just nature.

When I was a kid I remember being cooped up in the house during the coldest winter days. On snowy days you would get out to shovel or play in the snow. Neighbors caught up on each other's lives as they banded together to clear away the snow for the older couple down the street. Kids would be off with their shovels to make a few extra bucks. Snowballs would be thrown, snowmen made and knocked down, and Mom would make hot chocolate as we pealed off wet clothes. Being from a big family, our boots came from the hand-me-down box under the basement stairs. Coats, scarves and gloves were usually handed down to us younger kids. I remember wishing I was taller so I wouldn't have to wind that long scarf (that Mom crocheted) around my neck so many times so it wouldn't drag behind me. As I got older, the snow blower came along and I would be awakened on a snowy morning to the growing chorus of motors tossing the snow like fountains off of the sidewalk. Small cars that needed to be pushed out of snow drifts gave adolescent boys a chance to exhibit a feat of strength.

When I was a kid, this would probably seem like just a winter day. But looking back, I see these days are God's way of putting up a road block to get us to appreciate our surroundings. A momentary snapshot. An opportunity to enjoy and help others. In the spring we will be encouraged to stop and smell the roses. But today, since it's winter, let's enjoy the snow.

Staying on Mission

To truly walk the path that God has chosen for us we must take inventory of the blessings He has bestowed on us. A voice to communicate. Patience to listen. A mind to solve problems. Determination to weather through difficult situations. The blessings seem to be bountiful when you count them. God never leaves us unarmed or unprepared. So the saying goes 'God doesn't send us anything we can't handle'. As a student in life, we must be sure to pay attention to the lessons of our Teacher.

So many times we pass up opportunities to stock our arsenal. When we say "I just don't have time for that" or "I don't think I would like that" is the equivalent of skipping class. People come into our lives to share their strengths and weaknesses. When we turn our backs on them, we tell God 'no thanks'. 'Knowledge is power'.

Recently I realized I had put away a gift I received from God and forgotten about it. Back in middle school, many years ago, I had a principal who was known as 'Smiling Chuck' by the students. We never called him that to his face, but I don't think he would have minded. I only recall one time he didn't smile. It was while he was reprimanding the student body for bad behavior during an assembly. As one of the kids who didn't misbehave, It was very comforting to see 'Smiling Chuck' smiling later that day. I always wanted to be a 'Smiling Joe'.
It took years. Keeping a smile on your face takes work. The muscles tighten into that bland, blank look over the years making the smile harder to achieve as we get older. It wasn't until about eight years ago, when I had a new customer service job. My supervisor told me "and don't forget to smile". I did. The first couple of days I would come home from work and my face would be sore. I though about 'Smiling Chuck' and pondered if he went home at the end of the day and put his on ice. As the days went by I found it got much easier. Often I was smiling and nobody was around to see it. And it spread. Whether I was at work, shopping or out walking, people would smile at me and say hello. It's a simple welcome sign to your soul. When people see it, they know they can approach you. I was often asked is I ever stopped smiling. A year and a half ago I was able to thank 'Smiling Chuck' for his inspiration.
Last week I was waiting in a busy hallway for a seminar. People kept passing me by looking very glum. No smiles. I missed the smiles of strangers. It has been a tough year for everyone. Then I realized that I had taken the smile on my face for granted. It was no longer there. It seemed to have just disappeared. I hadn't realized that I was not smiling. So I forced the facial muscles to do their job once again and I could feel their need to exercise. It only took a couple of moments until the smile was returned. That hallway became a much more pleasant place. When God gives you a gift and asks you to use it, He always thanks you. Passing out smiles doesn't take much effort. And the return is priceless.
This is just one of the gifts I know I must use on my mission. It may not be something that will change the world, but it will make parts of the world a bit more pleasant. God gave me a reminder of how valuable it is. He also reminded me how much it is needed today. Life often gets complicated. We lose focus on the big picture. But faith will allow us to see the reminder God sends us to get back on mission. Our Teacher never gives up on us!

My Shower of Roses

I have recently been charmed by the wisdom of a young lady. Her journey was short, but she traveled a long way. She has become my traveling companion, offering to clear away the brush to help me chart my course.

St. Therese was guided through her short life by her supreme faith. Even as she lay dying she expressed her wish to spend her days in heaven doing good on earth. Upon learning this, I wanted to hear more about the continued works of this young carmelite nun. The Internet offers so many opportunities to give voice to those who wish to share their stories of faith. I came across stories of her intercession in remarkable ways, and some that could be dismissed as coincidental. The more I learned, the more I wanted to learn about St. Therese and her little ways. Her simplicity charmed me. She came into my life as I faced a cross road. I decided to ask her for guidance and began to pray her novena. Now, I am someone who tends to be skeptical when it comes to people having religious experiences. And I have to admit, I wanted to experience one of my own. Don't we all? Many of the stories of her intercession end with her fulfilling her promise to send down "a shower of roses." So I prepared to pray her novena by printing out a very nice picture of her to place on that growing shrine that used to be the top of my dresser. Her picture would remind me of my commitment to pray to her and of her admirable faith. I knew I had an old fashioned looking picture frame that needed to be filled. I had just come across it a few days before. When I went to retrieve it I was quite surprised that I had never noticed that the detailing on it was little roses. Hardly a shower of them, but it did make me think she was listening. The last day of the novena was the strangest. Plumbing problems in my building caused the water to be shut off. I really didn't want to go to 4 o'clock mass without showering first. My neighbor asked me if I was going and I explained the situation and said no. Then I realized I could just tame my hair and freshen up as best I could. So I called my neighbor back and we went to mass. I sat in my usual spot on the right side of the church. I never even go to the left side. As mass concluded, father reminded us that there were house blessing kits available by the Blessed Mother on the left side of the church. I humorously told my neighbor I was going to bless the house to get the water flowing. So after mass I went over to the basked at the feet of the Blessed Mother. I had to kneel down to reach the kit so I kneeled on the padded kneeler and took a kit. I then looked up and saw a beautiful spray of white roses.(My favorite roses). There were no other roses in church. I never go to that side. I almost didn't go to mass that day. And the Blessed Mother seemed to be beaming down at me. I got the message. A shiver went up my spine and my eyes teared up. My prayer would be answered.
A few days later I went to a meeting regarding my crossroads. I had prayed for direction and was second guessing my ability to make the change I was planning. As I entered the city limits where my meeting was to take place I notice the welcoming sign. A rose. It was in Roseville. St. Therese gave me my answer. Suddenly something that seemed very frightening, had become the door that God opens when he closes another. And Theresa held my hand and helped me through it.

Wait, it gets better. I wanted to thank my traveling companion for all she had done. I promised her I would spend my birthday by being her messenger. So I bought a dozen white roses and spent my day giving her calling card to those who just seemed to need to feel her presence. I went with a good friend on his daily pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Little Flower. I brought a rose to give to St.Therese. As we waited to pray at her alter, I noticed an elderly woman praying so intently. My friend was looking at the display dedicated to Therese's parents as I watched the woman rise from her prayers. She had a troubled look on her face so I walked up to her and gave her the rose. I told her I brought it to St. Therese and that she should have it. She smile and said "Thank-you, she is my patron saint." St. Therese can't shock me anymore. I don't think the elderly woman was surprised either. That's just the way St. Therese works.

Faith is a wonderful thing. But we have to ask ourselves from time to time if we can recharge it. Of course we can. By walking with the saints and carrying their load, we can feel the spirit of God in our hearts and hear his message so much more clearly. The blinders of skepticism often cause a numbness to our faith. We have to shake it off and give the heart a spiritual workout. Bring the saints into our daily lives as reminders of what we can do to follow God's map. My new friend St. Therese gave me a wonderful gift. She showed me the way.

Walk With Me

Life is a journey. God sends us into this world to cross path's with each other. To touch and be touched. To see the beauty that is a gift to us. And to leave the world a little better than we found it.

Walk with me as I share stories of my journey and encourage you to also. Join me in celebrating the joy along the way, and take my hand as we feel our way through the moments of darkness. None of us must take the journey alone unless we choose to. And why would we choose to?

Pope John Paul II had a favorite biblical quote from Mark 14:42, "Rise, let us be on our way" recalling the words of Jesus to Peter, James and John in the garden of Gethsemane. It was John Paul's call to spiritual arms. To stop sitting on the sidelines of life as merely an observer and becoming player. God calls us all to do many things. Just watching isn't one of them. While we aren't necessarily called to take up a life of poverty and self sacrifice, helping the poorest of the poor like Mother Theresa, we are called to do little works, like St. Therese, the little Flower. St. Therese reminds us not to be overwhelmed by the great acts of the saints, but to find joy in the "little ways" of kindness we can offer eachother.

Walk with me and share the little ways we can make the steps of our journey more meaningful and leave footprints that others may follow. Rise, let us be on our way as we chart our new path through the wilderness that is life.