Our son Tyson will be stationed at Kusan Air Base in Korea for one year beginning in December 2010.  This is considered a “hardship” tour, which means he has already been given his follow-on assignment (where he’ll be headed after Korea).  The good news: He will be stationed at Scott Air Force Base in January 2012 which is only about one hour from where we live.

So now we can look forward to having Tyson close by.  He enlisted in the Air Force in 1996 and he has lived on or near the following Air Force bases: Lackland (Texas), Keesler (Mississipppi), Vandenberg (California), Tyndall (Florida), Ramstein (Germany), plus two deployments to Iraq, and now Kusan (Korea) and finally Scott (Illinois).  After what will be 15-1/2 years of service he will finally be home (or practically home).  We have the next 18 months to anticipate his homecoming!  It’s hard to believe that he has been in the Air Force now for 14 years and so I hope that the next 18 months flies by for him.  But I don’t really want to wish his life away…

Praying that Scott Air Force Base would be his follow-on assignment seemed too selfish so my prayers were that he would be sent somewhere that would improve his life and his career and if that happened to be Scott it wouldn’t be such a bad thing!  Now that we know for certain that he will be close-by the anticipation is that much greater. 

It’s strange when wishing and hoping and praying are suddenly replaced by dreaming and planning and envisioning.  I’m looking forward to simple things with Tyson – taking in an occasional Cardinals baseball game, having Sunday dinner together, just hanging out.  Of course there are the important things, too – having him near his daughter again (they’ve been separated for almost a year now), having him home for all the holidays, him not having to miss out on weddings, funerals, graduations, etc., and finally being able to buy or build a permanent home.

So we will wait in joyful anticipation.  But I’m not a good ‘waiter’.  Patience is not my strong-suit and I want him home now.  Today!  But who knows what great experiences he will encounter in the next 18 months?  Living and working in Korea alone is an opportunity not afforded to most of us.  It will undoubtedly benefit him both personally and professionally.  

So one prayer is answered and a new one begins:  “God please help me be patient!”

Peace,
Denis

All families are crazy, especially other peoples’s families.  Now I know that all families have their share of drama and heartache.  And I believe that in the best of families that is balanced by the love and laughter.  Sometimes during the darkest moments it is hard to remember the “good times”. 

Growing up I was often the peace maker at home.  My two older brothers would fight and I was the little one that would cry (or tell on them) and that would create a parentally-imposed temporary cease fire.  As I grew older and my middle brother grew increasingly rebellious and defiant, I would be the one that Mom and Dad would reach out to for comfort/solace.  Remember I was YOUNGER – what the hell did I know about being a rebellious teen when I was 11 or 12?   When my little sister was a teenager (I had young children of my own by then) I would spend endless hours on the phone with Mom listening to her heartaches about raising a teenager.  And then my sister would call and tell me about the HELL of living with a crazy menopausal mother!  It’s hard to be Switzerland when you’re living in the midst of France and Germany and Italy.  But through the years I’ve tried to remain impartial (unless of course they start attacking me – and then I’m just another dog in the fight!).  So there you have it.  It is other peoples’ families that are the crazy ones; not mine.

My own kids have had their disagreements/stand-offs.  But for the most part they live in harmony – maybe because they physically live so far apart.  Whatever the reason; my wife and I don’t have to be arbiters or peace makers with them.  I am truly thankful for this.  My theory is that because our three children are so different from one another they rarely compete or argue.  There commonality is love but they live very different lives.

Each of them has a very different personality: 

Tyson he is so trusting that he would NEVER question something that someone he loves or respects tells him.  He was often the victim of pranks perpetrated by his siblings.  And he was also the only kid in our subdivision that ran away from the ice cream truck because I once told him that it was an ambulance – is that wrong? His vocation – career military – fits his personality type perfectly.  He never questions orders and he is faithful to his command and his troops.  He trusts in the good that he is doing.

Bess is very intelligent and sarcastic. She may have inherited this trait from yours truly (but get over it you bunch of cry-babies).  She is truly funny and can make the most uncomfortable situations amusing by her unique and sometimes irreverent take on the world around her. Once when she was in grade school and being bossed around by a fellow student while they were helping out in the cafeteria, she reminded the other girl that she was a server not her servant.  Her vocation – motherhood/education – sometimes humor is the only way you survive raising/teaching children (hence, the nick-names).

Blake was (and still is?)  a wild child.  He was completely adorable and completely a maniac.  He had a habit of writing or carving his name on furniture, lamps, walls, etc., etc.  Once at about age 7 or 8 while being interrogated about a recent rash of “personalizing” he demanded to know why we would assume it was him!  After all, his brother or sister might have written his name on all those things.  Really???  His vocation – cooking – after majoring in theater he has taken his passion to the kitchen.  Being a wild sous-chef is considered normal in his trade. 

So my family is crazy but good crazy.  The kind of crazy that makes sense to me anyway.  We love crazy, madly, deeply.  We trudge along in our imperfect way and we do our best. 

And on Father’s Day (as I do each day) I’ll thank God again for my kids and our special brand of craziness.

Peace,

Denis

I am discouraged by the overriding theme of “unworthiness” that seems to permeate our homilies and conservative Catholic media.  Far too often we are being told that we must be in pursuit of a “Catholic identity” – whatever that means.  Am I less Catholic because my children attended public school?  Am I less Catholic because I question Church authority?  Am I less deserving of Jesus’ love because I believe we must respect all life, not just the unborn?  What about those on death row, the elderly, and the mentally ill?

Recent statements and actions taken by Catholic bishops only fuel the fire of shamefulness.  Censure and sanctions against those that question official Church teaching and suspicion and condemnation of those whose political ideals are not in harmony with THE CHURCH are frightening.  The idea that Eucharistic ministers must become “Communion cops” is both sad and alarming.  The suggestion that none of us is worthy of God’s love and forgiveness greatly disturbs me.  Who among us is above reproach?  Who among us is free from sin?  And who decides?

Awhile ago I read an editorial in the National Catholic Reporter.  It stated:

 “The church once viewed itself as a home for everyone and its children as works in progress. The church once had room for all who were a day late and a dollar short of the ideal, whose private lives were compromised by infidelity, racism, addictions, larceny and deception. Sunday Mass was the gathering place for the seven capital sinners, dressed up, mixed up, and trying their best, it was assumed, to navigate life’s contradictions.” 

I find myself in that category of sinners, and I believe that in spite of my sinfulness, Jesus still invites me the altar to share in His Body.  It is through Christ that we are perfected.  And it is through one another that we share in Christ’s love.

Jesus said, “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.”

So shouldn’t we be welcoming one another into God’s house?  When our lives get complicated, when our children turn out different from what we thought they would, when controversy invades our homes, where should we go?  Isn’t it through listening to one another’s stories and, through them, finding balance and compassion, that we do the work of reconciliation that makes us church?

Thanks to each of you that have welcomed me to Christ’s table through these many years.  I know that if I had waited until I felt “worthy” I would still be in the darkness.

Peace,

Denis

Last week we buried another uncle.  My mom is the 12^th of 13 children – 7 girls and 6 boys.  Mom is one of the “little girls” so at 81 many of her siblings have passed away.  All the boys are gone now and only four of the girls remain – aged 91, 86, 81 and 80.  It’s tough watching as they all fade away.  Uncle Bob was my mom’s closest brother – both in age (82) and emotionally.  She and Bob have always been connected in so many ways. 

So it was hard losing our uncle but harder still watching Mom grieve. 

Uncle Bob served our country in the U.S. Army from 1945 until being honorably discharged in 1947.  He had been a carpenter for over 40 years.  He left behind four children, eight grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.  He lived on 80 acres; dug and stocked 6 lakes; built his home with his own hands.  Arguably his greatest accomplishment is that he spent the last 35 years of his life sober.  Far too many years he spent in the depths of alcoholism.  And he paid dearly – losing his beloved wife Rita.  But to his credit Uncle Bob never pitied himself or lost his sense of humor.  He may have lived with regrets but those were his to shoulder.  He never expected anyone to feel sorry for him.  He stayed associated with AA until the end – sponsoring many other recovered alcoholics.

Uncle Bob’s one-liners are legendary:  Upon meeting one of our neighbor’s, that he considered a blow-hard, he remarked “That guy is all wind and no rain!”  About a talkative aunt, “She’s the hi-goodbye girl” “That’s all you get to say when you talk to her!”  About another “She could give a woodpecker a headache!”  He was always quick to laugh and had a self-deprecating sense of humor.  Concerned that his memory wasn’t as good as it once was; he named his favorite beagle ‘Bob’ so he wouldn’t forget the dog’s name.

Bob will certainly be missed; by his children, his grandchildren, his four remaining sisters and a multitude of nieces, nephews and friends.  Mom said recently “Life is just too short”.  She said it seemed like yesterday that she and Bob were kids on the farm.  Once when Bob was ill and bed-ridden, Mom and her younger sister learned how to ride a bicycle using Bob’s new bike while he lay in bed unable to stop them.  The two sisters would ride his bicycle pass his bedroom window just to taunt him.  Mom laughed and then cried recalling the memory.  For a moment she was six years old again and Bob was seven and life was carefree.

At his wake and the next day at the funeral luncheon I couldn’t help but notice that my cousins were paying special attention to my mom.  I know that she is well regarded by most of the family but I wondered if they were imagining she might “be next”.  Were they spending what they thought might be ‘precious little time’ with her?  Of course her mortality has been in the forefront of her thoughts lately, which is understandable.  Less than two months ago she buried another of her brothers.  But Mom?  No!  I’m not ready.  And neither is she.  But life is short even when you’re 82; especially when you’re 82…

Peace,

Denis

Last weekend we were in Wisconsin for a wedding.  Our daughter’s college friend Amanda married Tom.  We love Amanda and I have it on good authority that Tom is a great guy, so this was an especially happy occasion.  In addition, our daughter Bess was a bridesmaid and our granddaughter Anna was the flower girl.  So for us it was a fun family-affair. 

 Now we’ve been to all sorts of weddings –fancy weddings with receptions at ballrooms; some very simple ceremonies with receptions in VFW halls or church basements.  We’ve been to outdoor weddings and very traditional church weddings.  We’ve been to receptions where people got stupid drunk and fights broke out.  We’ve been to weddings so BORING that is was like watching paint dry.  I remember one wedding of a co-worker many years ago, where the just-married couple exited the church to fiddles playing “Turkey in the Straw”. 

 This wedding was more on the fun but formal/fancy-side.  What struck me as especially beautiful was the complete joy of the wedding couple.  No one at their wedding could ever deny the love that Amanda and Tom have for one another.  And it brought back all the feelings I had when my own daughter was married. 

 Even though it is nearly seven years ago – it seems like yesterday.  The excitement, the nervousness, the uncertainty, all came flooding back into my mind.  For fathers, it’s probably a blessing that the wedding preparations are so consuming because it keeps us busy and helps us avoid the melancholy of thinking about “giving away our daughters”.  Of course now with the benefit of hindsight, I know that I never “gave her away”.  Bess and I are joined together for life – and beyond.  It’s true that Travis is her soul-mate and her partner for life but there’s still room in that life for her dad. 

 I saw the same joy in Travis on his wedding day as I saw last weekend in Tom.  I remember vividly Travis beaming as Bess and I walked down the aisle.  Tom’s expression was much the same as he awaited Amanda.  That bodes well for Amanda (and her dad, too).  If Tom is half the man that my son-in-law is Amanda’s life will be truly blessed. 

 The other joy that I experienced last Saturday was watching Travis with his two year-old daughter Anna as she “attempted” being a flower girl.  Even though she did very well at the rehearsal, the concept of walking down the aisle at the actual wedding was much too daunting.  Travis patiently tried to help her but she insisted that “Daddy, hold you!” and of course he obliged.  He tried to carry her while he also held her little bouquet, but she would have no part of it.  So her trip down the aisle was aborted and she spent the rest of the ceremony at the back of the church with her Daddy.  His loving and caring spirit towards her touched my heart and I couldn’t help but wonder what might be someday…

 Will Travis walk Anna down the aisle worried that he is “giving her away”?  I hope he knows that could never happen.

 Fathers and daughters – what a powerful bond; what a gift God has given us.   

 Peace,

Denis