Author: Denis Wilhelm

Change(ing)

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Each Lenten season I make an effort to become more prayerful, more tolerant, more forgiving. I always fall short of my goal. I try. I fail. And I try again. I recently read a meme that made me truly laugh out loud and then it almost immediately hit me over the head. It wasn’t funny at all. I went from laughter to discomfort to sorrow as I realized that this message was for me: “I can’t believe it’s been a year since I didn’t become a better person”. It went from, “ha, ha, you’re a jackass.” to “hey, you really are a jackass!”. A startling reality that requires change.

It occurred to me that Lent isn’t about change, it is about changing. It’s a verb. It’s an action. For some of us (me) changing is slow and painful and tedious and must be repeated over and over. I have to empty my heart of the anger, hate, and perceived injustice that I’m lugging around to make room for love and forgiveness.

I have to let go of my self-righteousness and my judgement of others. That’s a tall order. I’m really good at judging others. I can tell just by looking at some folks that I don’t like them. I preach tolerance but usually I find that I am often intolerant of others. If their political ideology or their worldview doesn’t align with mine, I want nothing to do with them.

I have to also let go of my pride, hurt, disappointment, and failure. I suppose we’re all guilty of holding on to painful experiences in our lives. How often have I allowed the unjust actions of others to keep me from fully loving them? How long have I carried hurt in my heart for the wrongs inflicted by others? Whether it was a past employer or an unkind neighbor or a friend or family member, it weighs me down when I can’t let go of the offenses. Worse still, is the pain that I carry for the times I have hurt others.

Forgiveness is about changing. First, I must own the hurt, the pain, and the disappointment. And then I must forgive the aggressors, especially when the aggressor is me. If I believe that God forgives me, why can’t I forgive others? And if I believe that God forgives me, why is it so hard to forgive myself?

Lent is a good time to “up” my game. Try to change. Try to forgive. Try again. Try harder. Fail. And repeat. And to remember that “I can’t believe it’s been a year since I didn’t become a better person”. And to thank God for the grace to keep trying.

Peace,

Denis

Forgive us, as we forgive others. Matthew 6:12

Walk, Meditate, Pray

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Recently I received a missive from the Faith Community with which I am associated suggesting that I turn off my screen. Go for a walk, meditate quietly, or pray.

Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Easier said than done.

We’re being bombarded with 24-hour news that is mostly depressing if not entirely frightening. And I am afraid. I fear for my family members who are government employees not sure what to expect from day-to-day. I fear for families who may lose health and welfare aid that they rely on. I fear for our veterans who are being denied assistance. I fear for everything that is being undone by our current administration. The ultimate hardship and suffering of so many in our country and in our world is incalculable.

It was suggested that I write letters to my Congressional representatives. Many of our elected leaders have turned a blind eye to what is happening. Lawmakers have been instructed to literally hide from their constituents. My letters have gone largely ignored or answered with talking points instead of responding to my true concerns.

I also just read what Anne Lamott once wrote, “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”

So, I am unplugging as much as I can. Again, not easy! And I will walk and meditate and pray.

This morning, I was praying for my grandson Noah who will be Confirmed next month. It seems like it was just a moment ago that he was a tiny baby in my arms and now he is a young man about to accept this gift of faith being offered to him. This is his opportunity to say “YES” to what his parents had asked of the Church. I pray that I am worthy to be his sponsor. At times I feel overwhelmed and underqualified. I hope to fear less and cheer more. Noah gives me hope and I find strength in his presence. My grandson is a fearless teenager. He is eager and ready to take on this world. His kindness and joy and devotion will change hearts. God has blessed us with one another. And our world will be better because of him.

As I receive my ashes today on Ash Wednesday, I will remember to send a thank you to organizations that are supporting Immigrants and Refugees in my area. I will lend a hand where I can. I will donate to shelters and food pantries. I will be present. I will listen. And I will thank God for a Faith Community that reminds me that I am not walking alone.

“God may Your light guide my day, and Your Spirit bring me peace. Amen.”

Peace,

Denis

Lifetime Valentine

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Once upon a time a boy met a girl, and they fell deeply and desperately in love. They were young and he was poor and uneducated, and many people thought that they would be doomed to live a life of despair. But the boy hoped to one day be worthy of her love by becoming the man she always believed he could be. Years went by and their love grew, and they were blessed with three beautiful children and five even more beautiful grandchildren. The man is no longer a boy but his love for the girl has never diminished or wavered. He’s still not sure if he’s become the man of her dreams but she remains forever his Lifetime Valentine and their love has survived the years, the tears, the good times and the bad. The man still believes that God has made them for each other, and he is thankful each day for her love and devotion.

And they continue to live happily ever after…

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:6-7

Keep On Keeping On

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Lately I have been sad, angry, and disheartened.

Half of our nation voted for a man who seems consumed by bias and animosity towards his fellow humans. He appears to be only interested in seeking retribution on those he perceives as his enemies and inflicting suffering on the most vulnerable amongst us. And of course, as always, he wants to increase his personal wealth at the expense of others. Sadly, most of the elected members of his political party seem to be walking in lockstep with him.

This is a sad time for our nation and our world. I fear for my Black, Latino, and LGBTQ friends and family members. I fear for immigrant families. I fear for all the marginalized in our society. I fear for our environment. I fear for the world that my grandchildren will inherit.

A good friend recently wrote to us that cable news and social media have robbed her of peace. I share that feeling as well. And yet, I turn on the ‘talking heads’ because I am conditioned to believe that I must stay informed. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve had some, “the hell with it all” moments. I admit that there are days that I want to stick my head in the sand but that serves no purpose either. So, I try to look for goodness where I can. I search for solace in the company of others with whom I can be myself. And I retreat to solitude when I need some self-care.

Recently I’ve had a couple of opportunities to serve others. These weren’t grand gestures, but I find that in doing good works, even in a small way, I am contributing positively to our community. Mostly what I find is that my heart is filled by the joy of the other “helpers”. And maybe that’s the thing. Just get out there. Love where I can love. Serve where I can serve. Be who I am.

Yesterday we had the pleasure of going to our granddaughter’s high school for “Grandparents Day”. Seeing all those young women so full of life and joy and hope made me realize once again that everything is going to be alright. Being prayed on and blessed by our granddaughters was a powerful reminder that we as grandparents had a hand in helping build their future. The little girl who once sat on my lap and wrapped me around her tiny finger is getting ready to take on the weight of this world and I feel confident in her ability to do so.

I need to stop wringing my hands and shake the hand of a stranger in need. I need to stop finding the fault in my neighbor and look for the good in them. I need to stop cursing the cable news channel and pray for God’s healing in our world.

I need to just keep on keeping on. I need to keep dancing and dreaming…

Peace,

Denis

Braving the Cold

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While cursing the cold the other day I realized that in our neighborhood only us old guys shovel the snow from our driveways. We, the heart attack prone, arthritis afflicted, RSV susceptible old-timers, feel compelled to clear the snow from our driveways and walkways. The young people just drive over it. Their lack of concern for neatness and order seems nearly criminal. They just drive off to jobs and other necessary destinations, while I sit and look smugly out my window at my neatly shoveled ‘driveway to nowhere’. I don’t need to leave my house. We are retired. Our pantry in stocked and we have food in the freezer likely older than some of the non-shoveling miscreants who I grudgingly consider my neighbors.

A well shoveled driveway

What if I decide that I must leave the house? Or what shame might I feel if we had an unexpected visitor who had to traverse the dangers of an uncleared walkway? I will shovel! My Dad was a shoveler. He took pride in his ability to clear the snow, and I will carry on that tradition. I suppose the younger generation doesn’t want to brave the elements to conquer their snow-covered driveways and sidewalks. They don’t dress in layers and get booted-up to prove their worth. They just hit the APP on their phones to auto-start their cars. And then drive off with abandon in pre-heated luxury.

While being somewhat amused with my inner curmudgeon, I realize that perspective matters. The younger families must get to where they need to be – driveway be damned! What appears to me to be laziness is probably someone hurriedly trying to get to a job or to get a sick child to a doctor or to help an older parent clear their walkway. Perhaps I could offer to help them. Or at least mind my own business.

Funny thing about judging others, God usually forces me to look in the mirror at some point. That’s when I really need to brave the cold. The cold, hard truth that I have prejudged others. Fortunately, God even forgives sinners like me.

Peace,

Denis

Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye? Matthew 7:3

Life Is Golden

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This coming week we’re celebrating our Golden Wedding Anniversary. 50 years!

Sometimes it seems like only yesterday that I stood at the altar of Trinity Church and turned and watched as Debbie walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. The church was flooded with light on that day and as she approached me it appeared that the light was emanating from her. That’s how each day since has been; she fills my life with light!

50 years ago, I had no idea where we would be today, but if I could have dreamed this big back then, this is exactly what my dream would have been. I have been married to the person that I love and respect more than anyone else in the world. Deb makes me want to be a better person. Because of her I believe that I am. I would never have achieved any success in this life without her inspiration, her love and her support. I’d like to think I’ve helped her along the way, too. We’ve carried each other on this journey when necessary but mostly we’ve walked hand in hand. I started out thinking in 1975 that we were somehow headed toward a goal – Financial success? Maturity? Stability? Marital bliss? Through these fifty years I’ve come to realize that the journey’s the thing. That’s our legacy. That somehow through good and bad; thick and thin, we’ve made it. We’ve remained side by side. Never behind. Never in front. Always beside.

A dear friend shared this poem written by Peter Bland. It’s startling how much this poem speaks of our own life.

Whether it was divine intervention or fate or good luck, somehow, we were meant to be together. 50 years and still counting. Three children. Five grandchildren. Six homes. Two continents. Multiple jobs and careers. Countless friends. And one love. Forever.

Peace,

Denis

This video was created in the 1990’s. I love this song, but it is especially touching because my parents are featured at 3 minutes and 26 seconds into it. I don’t know exactly how Vince Gill found them, but I am eternally grateful.

God With Us

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Emmanuel is a Hebrew word that is made up of two parts: “Immanu” meaning “with us”, and “el” meaning God. So together, Emmanuel means “God with us.” The name Emmanuel reminds us that Jesus is not distant, but intimately present in our lives. It speaks to our need for connection with God. Here. Now. And forever.

At Christmas, my focus is often on Baby Jesus. The infant in the creche, the helpless child and his weary parents: homeless, alone and frightened. While I sit comfortably in my warm home surrounded by Christmas decorations and gifts and an excess of food, it’s challenging to relate to Jesus’ humble beginning. But then I think of my children as infants and the overwhelming concern I had for them. I remember too, my feelings of inadequacy. My need to protect them was constant, as was my fear of failure in trying to do so. I can only imagine how Joseph must have felt; disappointed at his inability to provide shelter; uncertain of his future with Mary and Jesus; fearful that he might fail.

During Advent we are reminded that we aren’t just awaiting the birth of our Savior in Bethlehem. We are also anticipating the awakening of our spirits in Christ, and His final coming at the end of time. When I reflect on those things I realize that I encounter Jesus every day. At Christmas we’re given new hearts capable of greater love. Our obstinance and unkindness can be removed. We can be free from our hearts of stone.

Recently, while Christmas shopping, I asked a cashier how she was holding up. I simply meant with the Christmas rush, the long hours, and the constant customer demands. She proceeded to tell me that she was having a tough time this year as this was the first Christmas without her husband. She said he had died on December 28th the previous year and she had taken this temporary job just to avoid Christmas preparations alone this year. She was just trying to “stay busy” and not focus on his absence. As her eyes filled with tears, I felt her pain. It was then that I was once again remembered that God’s law of Love is written on our hearts. I meekly said, “please take of yourself this Christmas”. I left the store not certain if I had comforted her, but I felt honored that she saw me as someone with whom she could share her pain.

Our ability to be Christians is only accomplished in the life and death of God’s only Son, Jesus Christ. When we turn to Christ and receive forgiveness from our sins, then God dwells within us, and we can be Christ to one another. It is then that we too become Emmanuel.

This Christmas be assured that God is with you. Sometimes all we need to do is look in the mirror.

Peace,

Denis

Therefore, the Lord himself will give you a sign; the young woman, pregnant and about to bear a son, shall name him Emmanuel. Isaiah 7:14

Relating to Worldly Concerns

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It’s the second week of Advent and I’m feeling the pressure to be more holy (or holy at all, in my case). So, I’m lighting my Advent wreath and reflecting on how to celebrate our Savior’s birth. How do I put aside my anxiety regarding the political rancor in our country? How do I deal with the grief of losing my best friend, fear for a dear friend who is battling a painful recovery from surgery and concern for a toddler from our parish who is facing serious health issues? Do I just put on my “Happy Christmas Face” and suck it up? I fear l that my celebration of Christmas this year might feel ingenuine.

Most importantly, can I love God and love our modern (sometimes tacky) celebration of Christmas, too? Must they be mutually exclusive? Merriam-Webster defines the word secular as: Relating to worldly concerns; not overtly or specifically religious. That doesn’t sound so menacing to me. And yet I’m constantly hearing about the evils of the secular world in which we live. It seems that I am bombarded with warnings about being consumed by our secular society. On the first Sunday of Advent, we were admonished for placing gift-giving, holiday decorating, and Santa Claus before Christ. Somehow those things are equated with secularism and by association deemed contrary to what Christmas should really be about.

Often, I think that we get so caught up in protecting our traditions we forget that some of our most sacred Christian celebrations – Easter and Christmas were placed on the calendar to take advantage of earlier non-Christian feasts. People were already partying at the spring and winter equinoxes so why not just slip Christ’s resurrection and birth into those time slots? Did we in fact Christianize earlier pagan feasts? I don’t know – maybe. But who cares? Is Christ’s birth and life on Earth less significant if he wasn’t actually born on December 25th? Is His resurrection any less meaningful because of when we celebrate?

Living in the world today, spending too much money on silly Christmas presents and decorating a tree doesn’t define our belief in Christ any more than the likelihood that we celebrate His birth on what was once a pagan feast day. In addition, pretending that everything is perfect seems foolish because no one I know has a Hallmark® Christmas where everyone falls in love and the snow falls on cue. Most of us are dealing with some hurt or fear or uncertainty. But here’s the thing, we can lay that hurt and those fears at the foot of the Cross.

I know that “Jesus is the reason for the season” but as a Christian I believe that He’s also the reason there’s a world to live in. Sometimes it’s messy and confusing. I won’t pretend that everything is okay, but I have time for tears and laughter, too. Knowing that Jesus walked among us in this world, I will relate to it the best that I can.

It just so happens that some of his creation likes a little tinsel, eggnog and “Jingle Bells” blasting from their iPhones. I suspect that God is not offended but merely amused when I’m “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” or when we finally finish decorating our 4th Christmas Tree (that’s right, four!). And for the record, in our house, we all sing “O Come O Come Emmanuel” at the dinner table after lighting our Advent wreath, too. Somehow it works because love is at the center of it all.

The Lord is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.  2 Peter 3:9

Peace,

Denis

A Friend Indeed

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When I was seven years old, we moved. There had been much anticipation about the new house. Because my dad’s family were plasterers by trade, we were allowed to see it as it was being built. We made frequent trips during construction, which for me was mesmerizing. Watching it transform from a hole in the ground to a completely new house was almost more than my little mind could comprehend. Moving day was filled with excitement until I realized that I had left my little friends from the old neighborhood behind.

On day two of the new house, I sullenly asked my mom who was I going to play with. I didn’t know anyone at this new place. She suggested I go next door and meet the little girl who lived there. Reluctantly I agreed. The girl was playing outside, and I shyly walked over to her yard. We greeted one another with skepticism and mutual disdain. The girl was playing with another girl. All I could imagine was that my new house, the one I had been so excited about, only had girls living nearby. The girls were playing with dolls or baby buggies or some other horrible girl-stuff. Dejected, I started to head back home when the ‘other girl’ said, “Hey, I have a brother; we live across the street.” I raced home and asked Mom if I could go across the street. She said yes, and I ran across the street and found the boy! He was playing with a toy truck in an empty lot. His name was Alan. We were the same age, and we went to the same school, and we became fast friends. My world was changed forever.

Alan and I spent that summer and nearly every day for years after, fishing for crawdads in creeks or running through farmers’ fields or hiking in the “woods” near our homes. We played baseball and kickball and football and camped out in one another’s backyards and rode our bikes daringly beyond our “parental boundaries”. We climbed trees and jumped off cliffs. We had adventures that carried us unto adolescence and beyond. On nice days we would walk the 2 or 3 miles home from school just because we were “big enough” to do it. We imagined an uncertain future with confidence beyond our years. With Alan by my side, I was invincible. He made me braver. He made me stronger. He helped me believe in myself. And my childhood was blessed beyond measure!

When we got to high school, I was worried that I might lose my friend. He was popular; I wasn’t. He was athletic; I wasn’t. But he never left me behind for the ‘cool kids’. We were an unlikely pair: the jock and the nerd. For four years we walked to school together. Unlike our grade school years, our conversations now focused on girls, cars, part-time jobs and grades. Not necessarily in that order. No one made me laugh harder or accept a dare quite like Alan could. We got into some minor trouble, but those details remain hidden to protect the innocent (and our reputations). After high school, we shared a place together for a while, and our shenanigans continued. Sometimes our guardian angels were working overtime.

We both married young, and our wives became friends, too. Through the ensuing years we raised our families, struggled through some tough jobs, and each found successful careers. We endured some tragic times with heartbreaking loss. We enjoyed some carefree days when we could look back and laugh at the good times that we had shared through our many years together. I moved out of state and out of the country and back home again. Our children grew up and had children of their own. Sixty-plus years and through it all we remained friends. Within moments of a phone call or a visit, we were back to being us. No one else had that thing we shared. It didn’t require words. It didn’t need explanation. It was true friendship.

We lost Alan this week. I’m still in shock. It was too soon. Too fast. I was struggling to feel thankful on Thanksgiving, but Alan’s thoughtful, easy manner kept coming back to me. I saw him two days before he passed, and he was so calm, so peaceful. In his characteristic fashion, he calmly accepted what was happening and helped all of us get through it. I wanted to be angry, but his demeanor assured me that God has a plan.

This time he is going on ahead of me. It might be a while before we can share that next laugh or reminisce about times gone by, but I find solace in knowing that I have a friend looking out for me.

A friend indeed.

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Nancy, thanks for letting me know that you had a brother.

Falling Leaves

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

I don’t love autumn. I’m not a fan of cold weather. Watching leaves falling and flowers dying makes me melancholy. This is the time of year that we are supposed to be thankful. So, bring on the turkey and pass the pumpkin pie. I will force a smile and at least pretend to be thankful. I will try to look for the positive. Fall colors are beautiful. The ‘gravy season’ brings comfort foods that fill my body and my soul. My favorite sweater wraps me in warmth and familiarity and hides the extra pounds.

I also find Autumn a good time to reminisce. This time of year, as things slow down and as I slow down, it seems appropriate reflect on life. I will pull out old photographs, dust off memories and embrace them. I will use this time to let go of hurt. I will offer and accept forgiveness. I will bask in the joy of love’s presence in my life and honor the lives of those I have loved and lost.

Mom left this earth five years ago, but she’s still with me each day. I see her in my sister and my daughter and my granddaughters. I hear her in their voices. I feel her in their touch. Love is never truly lost. I’m not sure if it’s genetics or learned behaviors but Mom’s love carries on in these next generations.

This week my cousin and I visited our 94-year-old aunt. She is my mom’s younger sister. They were just fifteen months apart in age. Growing up on a farm together during the Great Depression, the twelfth and thirteen children in their family, they shared everything and remained close all their lives. My aunt actually married my dad’s best friend, and our families became intertwined. Sisters who were inseparable and best buddies who carried one another home from World War II sounds like a movie plot, but it was true. They were America’s greatest generation.

My aunt is the lone survivor of that generation in our family. Time with her is precious. She is our only link to the past. Spending time with her is bittersweet. I am so grateful to still have her in my life, but I feel the ache of my loss more acutely when I see Mom’s mannerisms and hear Mom’s voice in her words. When I am able to set aside my selfishness, I pray that my aunt is comforted by my presence. I hope she hears my dad’s voice and sees my mom’s actions in me. I pray that her own grief is lessened in some way by my visit.

Each flutter of breeze brings another cascade of leaves falling just outside my window. It’s as if they are waving goodbye. And I suppose they are. But they are also promising to return again next spring as green buds and leaves that will sprout again.

Because love is never truly lost.

Peace,

Denis

God causes the changes of the times and seasons. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who understand. Daniel 2:21