Boy In A Hurry

Today is our grandson’s 6th birthday. Noah is always in a hurry! Whether he’s running through the backyard or cruising on his bicycle, or racing across the swimming pool or sliding into home, he is always “full speed ahead”!noah-me

That was even true on the day that he was born. It seems like it was yesterday that our daughter Bess was at her last prenatal appointment. While waiting to see the doctor she was pretty sure she had gone into labor. They examined her and sent her straight to the hospital at about 3:45 pm. Two hours later a nurse looked in on Bess and said she would be back in 30 minutes to check her progress. When the nurse returned to check, she lifted the sheet and said “And…we’re…having a baby!”

Just that quickly, Noah was born at 7:06 pm, September 20, 2010. He’s been in a hurry from the start.

I thank God for giving us a healthy boy who can run and run and run. I’m grateful that “he’s the fastest__________________________” (fill in the blank). He’s a dynamo who seems to move a little faster everyday. But some days I wish he would slow down. Sometimes I just need him to “put on the brakes”. I want him to climb on my lap. I want to hold him in my arms and kiss his sweet face. I want him to be “little” for just a little while longer. There are days when I feel desperate for Baby Noah. I want to tell him to please not be in such a hurry to grow up. To savor this time. To be patient. To hold on.

But today is not about me. Noah’s life is his own. He’s six today! And he’s in a hurry to run marathons and climb mountains and conquer this world and create beautiful moments and memories along the way.

I realize of course that I don’t need Noah to slow down as much as I need to catch up. And God willing, when I’m too old to run alongside him, I hope that I’ll still be able to cheer from the sidelines as he hurries past.

Happy Birthday Noah!

I love you,

(Pawpaw)

Denis

 

Full of Grace

I learned how to read in first grade. I know of course today that kids are reading in pre-school and kindergarten but back when I went to kindergarten I was just playing with blocks and finger paints and trying not to pee my pants. But now that I can read, one of the things that I do as an adult on occasion is proclaim scripture at my church. Because we are a large parish and there are many volunteers for this ministry, I probably only read at mass about eight Sundays per calendar year. Yesterday was one of my Sundays to read.

Lately I’ve been struggling to find my spiritual center. Our country seems more divided politically than at any other time in my adult life. Social media is filled with hateful rhetoric and falsehoods. Neighbors, friends and families are torn apart as fear becomes more prevalent and communities seem to remain in constant turmoil.

Thinking that perhaps reading Saint Paul’s Letter to Philemon on Sunday might lift my spirits, my hopes were soon dashed as I encountered our ultra-conservative priest and deacon in conversation. Ugh – even in the sacristy the politics sounded narrow-minded and judgmental! Furthermore the other reader was a no-show, so now I had to fill in for her, which I wasn’t prepared to do. My annoyance was at full throttle. Church suddenly seemed like a waste of time and my being any part of it completely ill-suited. When it came time for me to read it felt perfunctory and disingenuous. The priest’s homily didn’t help matters, I just kept thinking, “I thought God is love?” “What does any of this have to do with loving God or one another?”

img_1818But grace comes when we least expect it (and perhaps when we most need it). My daughter and her family had joined us for mass yesterday, and just as I was feeling the most anger and disillusionment, my granddaughter Anna wrapped her arm around mine and leaned her sweet head on my chest. A simple loving gesture. Maybe she just wanted to let me know that I was loved. Maybe she just needed to feel loved. Whatever the reason, that moment was sublime. I felt my anger and frustration dissipate as her love flowed over me. I came to mass yesterday to read scripture and to hear the Gospel. Turns out it was spoken to me without any words.

The name Anna means “full of grace” and she is. And then I was, too.

Peace,

Denis

 

Women’s Equality Day

Today is “Women’s Equality Day”. At my house that’s everyday. I suppose I’ve been blessed to have had some extraordinary women in my life, not the least of which is my best friend and soul mate, Debbie. We’ve shared (equally) in good times and bad. Carrying one another or being carried by the other as needed. Our life together has proven time and time again that she is my equal. She is simply unafraid. She is love and pure joy but she is also tough and resilient and relentless when necessary. She has taught me that tears don’t make you weak and laughter is truly the best medicine (especially when you need to laugh at yourself). And she has instilled the same spirit and strength and humor in our daughter.

Of course I’ve known and loved many other strong women. In fact, I believe that in my family the female role models are the ones that stand out as leaders.

women's equality dayMy Mom runs the show at her house. She will be 87 this year and remains in the know about politics, current events, style and fashion trends. For someone not afforded an education she is smarter than most women that I know and Dad knows not to mess with Mom.

My three aunts, Lucida, Noel and Gene Marie, were Sisters of the Most Precious Blood. These were intelligent women who were well-traveled and well-educated, not something to be taken for granted by women born in the 1910’s and 1920’s. They were teachers, administrators, catechists, and persons of authority.

The stories of my great-grandmother Elizabeth are legendary: Coming to this country alone at thirteen from Germany. Marrying and then raising her young family alone after my great-grandfather died. I’m told that she was tough, stubborn and a force to be reckoned with.

My three great aunts Marie, Minnie, and Liddy lived together in the family home that became the base of operations for all Wilhelm family gatherings. Aunt Minnie was a business woman – the County Nurse’s secretary. And she was well-respected in our hometown. I remember walking downtown with her many times and people would greet her very politely as “Miss Wilhelm”. I was always so proud to be with my Aunt Min!

And then of course there was my mother-in-law. She was a tough lady who fought for justice and looked out for the underdogs in our world. She was fiercely loyal to those she loved and protected her children like a lioness. She taught her daughter that real beauty requires confidence, kindness and a sense of humor. Jackie never went down without a fight. I’m not sure if you can “raise hell” in heaven, but if you can I’m sure she’s leading the charge.

Finally there are my four beautiful granddaughters. They each have so much to offer. I can see into the future because of them and I want it to equal and fair.

In the many decades since suffragists organized and mobilized, countless advocates and leaders have picked up the mantle and moved our Nation and our world forward. Today, young women in America grow up knowing an historic truth — that not only can they cast a vote, but they can also run for office and help shape the very democracy that once left them out. For these women, and for generations of women to come, we must keep building a more equal America — whether through the stories we tell about our Nation’s history or the faces we display on our country’s currency. On Women’s Equality Day, as we recognize the accomplishments that so many women fought so hard to achieve, we rededicate ourselves to tackling the challenges that remain and expanding opportunity for women and girls everywhere. ~ Barack Obama

I’m proud of the women in my life and I am a better man because of them.

Peace,

Denis

 

Kindergarten

This month our grandson Noah will begin kindergarten.

To me he seems wise beyond his years. He believes in God and prays often, albeit sometimes in a slightly selfish 5 year-old way (as do many adults that I know). He deeply cares about others, especially his big sister and his mommy and daddy. Noah’s interests are varied. He loves the outdoors. He plays baseball and soccer. He likes to swim. He likes to climb, jump and run. He also loves playing with Legos and Play-Doh, watching movies, playing board games. He has a very active imagination. He likes books but more than that, he loves hearing stories, especially if I tell him stories about when I was a boy (sometimes they’re even true). Noah loves music and loves to dance. And he laughs – huge belly laughs. He is fun and funny. We call him “Life’s-a-Party-Noah” for good reason. He is physically demonstrative and will gladly throw his arms around this old man and give me a huge kiss on the cheek. It doesn’t matter who may be watching. He loves me. And of course I love him!

Noah Kindergarten

Noah modeling his new school uniform

And so he begins a new chapter in his young life – Formal Education. From this day forward everything will be on his PERMANENT RECORD. I know that Noah will approach school with he same tenacity and aplomb that he tackles everything else. He’s a good team player and is easily coached so I suspect that the order and discipline required in school won’t be too challenging for him. Plus he loves to learn new things. And he’s kind. So he will be good to his classmates and teachers. And there can never be too much kindness in our world. Noah will surely do well with school.

But here’s the thing: Will school do well with Noah? Will his enthusiasm and joyful spirit be enhanced or stifled? Will his teachers expose him to new experiences and new ideas that fill his heart and stretch his mind or will he become bored and restless because of conformity and rote learning? Of most concern to this grandfather is whether or not his spirit will be allowed to soar. Noah has so much to offer and I’m convinced that he will change our world. He’s already changed mine.

I want the universe to open up for him in ways he can’t yet imagine. I want his achievements to be as boundless as his dreams. I want him to travel the world; read and study and explore; make a difference; discover his best self; love and be loved beyond measure. And I hope that someday he is blessed with a boy of his own who will fill his life with light and love.

I suppose that this is a lot to place on the small shoulders of a kindergartener. But hey, it’s Noah!

And I can always tell him a story about when I was in kindergarten…

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Noah, Always stay humble and kind…

Far From Home

Our son has made a career in the Air Force. Tyson loves the Air Force and he is exactly the kind of man who you would want safe guarding your freedom. He’s loyal. He’s brave. He’s dedicated. He’s a natural leader. He’s true-blue (actually he’s true-red, white and blue).

tyson11He recently left for a one-year, unaccompanied, remote assignment. Which means that he’s far away from home and his wife and daughters are left behind. Of course, there are worse jobs and there are tougher and more dangerous assignments but this is our son and it’s personal. And I’m feeling a little melancholy.

I know that he’ll be okay. I know that our daughter-in-law is strong enough and smart enough to make it on her own. She’ll keep the home fires burning. His two younger daughters are too young realize what a year without Daddy really means. I also know that Tyson will make friends and do his job well. Email and texting and video chats will help reduce the distance and hopefully will make the year pass quickly. And he will not be in harm’s way, as this is not a combat zone. He’ll receive cards and letters and care packages. So there is much for which to be thankful.

Still it’s hard not to worry. As I try to reassure him, I feel that my words sound hollow and contrite. I wish that I could be more comforting; more convincing; more articulate; more intelligent; more everything. But I realize that I’m also trying to reassure myself as I attempt to reassure him and I’m failing on both counts.

Today our grandson Noah (Ty’s five year-old nephew) said that God hears all our prayers, even the ones in our hearts. It’s amazing how kids evangelize. They bring the Gospel to us in the most simple yet profound ways.

GOD HEARS THE PRAYERS IN OUR HEARTS. Thank you Noah for helping me realize that I don’t need the words. I only need the love. And God hears it. And so will Tyson.

Peace,

Denis

“Let the children come to me”

garyLast week our newest granddaughter Gwendolyn Elizabeth was baptized. Our good friend Deacon Gary baptized her; as he has baptized our four other grandchildren. It was beautiful celebration of God’s love for us. I was reminded (once again) that Baptism isn’t just for the baby being Christened but for the entire family gathered to experience the sacrament. We all renewed our faith and promised to help Gwen in her spiritual journey. As Gary so eloquently pointed out, Gwen really had no idea what was happening to her but our love and support would give her a foundation on which to build a life-long relationship with God. So with parents and siblings and Godparents and grandparents and great-grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends, Gwen was welcomed into a new life in Christ. And we were all blessed.

bannerBaptism doesn’t end with the sacrament. This will be the beginning of Gwen’s life as a disciple of Christ. She was presented for Baptism but her parents and Godparents will bear the responsibility for her formation. We will all support their efforts in raising her as a Christian but ultimately she will have to choose to accept her faith as an adult.

But how often do I think about my responsibility to be a witness of Christ’s love? How often do I forget that we are all called to this in Baptism – to be Christ to one another?

As her grandfather I can model Christ’s love in the way in which I love and honor Gwen’s grandmother (my wife) and her parents and Godparents (my children) but most importantly it will be in the way that I will love her. Gwen’s journey in life is unknown at this time but my belief in Jesus’ saving grace is certain and it will sustain her forever; inasmuch as my love for her will never end.

Peace,

Denis

Jesus said, “Let the children come to me; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14

Old Man Walking

On the journey with a companion

On the journey with a companion

I walk a lot. I try to get up each morning and walk 4 miles around a nearby lake. When I’m traveling or on vacation, I’ll walk the beach or in a park. Not bad for a 61 year-old I suppose. I do it to stay physically fit but lately I find that it probably benefits my mental and spiritual fitness even more than my tired, old-ish body.

What I have discovered on my sunrise walks is that other walkers (and runners, and cyclists) aren’t likely to make eye contact. I know that we live in a world of fear; we’re afraid of terrorists; we’re afraid of violent crimes; we’re afraid of sexual predators; we’re afraid of identity theft; we’re afraid of yet-to-be-named diseases; we’re afraid of immigrants; we’re afraid of other religions; we’re afraid of other cultures; we’re afraid of people who don’t look (or act) like us. Some of these fears are legitimate; some I believe are heightened by political interests and hatred.

But I live (and walk) in the squeaky-clean suburbs. And there should really be very little to fear. My fellow walkers should certainly have no fear of me. I’m startled by the occasional bunny rabbit or squirrel that will dart across the trail. And I might cringe if I see a snake slither past or if a frog jumps out of the weeds but other people don’t make me afraid. And I will do no harm to them.

Recently I’ve tried to say “good morning” or “hello” to anyone who dares to make eye contact with me on my morning jaunts. The reactions and responses have been interesting. Some will offer a downcast or sideways glance with a feeble “hi”, as if to protect themselves from whatever evil may be lurking behind my benign-looking, grandfatherly exterior. Others look away quickly with no response at all. Some will actually return a friendly “good morning” or “hello”. The runners and joggers are usually very serious about their business, as if pausing for a quick glance might somehow throw off their body rhythms. The cyclists are often struggling to keep their balance or speed (or whatever) and seem incapable of the multi-tasking required to say anything while riding – I might get a nod. Older folks like myself are twice as likely to smile and acknowledge me. Young women (and perhaps rightly so) often avoid eye contact and stay focused on their exercise (and I suppose keep a ready hand on their can of mace). Young men are the least likely to speak or even look at me (probably dreading the likelihood that they might be staring at their futures).

Walking has given me the opportunity to S L OW  D O W N and appreciate the sunrise. To thank God for creation. It helps me clear my head and prepare for my day. It allows me quiet time to pray and be thankful for this journey of life. I like to see the flowers (and weeds) along the trail. I enjoy seeing the squirrels and rabbits and frogs and yes, even the occasional snake. I would never notice those things while driving. But mostly I’m grateful for the few friendly human encounters I have each day.

Some of us who are regular walkers (or runners) have now also become regular “smilers” and “hello-ers”. I’d like to think that this ‘old man walking’ has had some small part in that. I’ll keep smiling and hello-ing. Who knows? The smile that I share might be the only smile that one of my fellow walkers will receive the entire day. Kindness given is always returned.

And none of us is a stranger to God.

Peace,

Denis

More Love Is Needed…

Some people say that God is love. I would agree.

gay-loveRight now we need more love in this world. Sadly the tragedy in Orlando has created a swirl of political debate about gun control, terrorism, radical Islamism, LGBT rights, and police response. Whereas I firmly believe in a ban on all assault weapons and I abhor terrorism and violence of all kinds, I believe we may be missing the point. The fact remains that 49 people were massacred and an additional 53 people were injured, some critically. How does so much hate; so much rage fill someone’s heart? And as a society are we partially to blame? Have we developed such a cavalier attitude in our nation toward gun violence that we can just accept the fact that these people were an unfortunate casualty? Surely not.

These are sons and daughters; brothers and sisters. These are children of God. Children of love.

It sickens me when I see and hear politicians posturing and pandering to the gun lobbyists. The Second Amendment, which was adopted Dec. 15, 1791, reads: “A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” Our forefathers certainly didn’t expect the Second Amendment to allow for any citizen to possess an assault rifle. These are weapons designed with one purpose in mind: to kill. And please spare me the “guns don’t kill people; people kill people” crap. Because guns kill. AR-15 assault rifles kill.

So more love is needed. More understanding is required. More compassion is necessary. More love. Less hate.

I believe most disturbing is the idea expressed by some small-minded misanthrope that God is punishing the sinfulness of these victims. That by being gay; they were sinful. But God is love. And God didn’t create us to hate us. As a Christian I believe that the Holy Spirit embodies the love that God (the parent) and Jesus (the son) have for one another. As a parent myself, my heart is broken for the parents of these victims. I would remind them that their child was loved and loving. That their lives, although cut short, were a reflection of the love God has for each of us. My words can never fill the void in their hearts and souls left by the loss of their precious children. But I can love.

And more love is needed…

Peace,

Denis

Granddaughtered

Today I’m counting my blessings.

In 2004 our first granddaughter was born. In 2008 another granddaughter was born. In 2010 a grandson joined our brood. In 2013 our third granddaughter was born. In 2016 our blessings continue! Gwendolyn Elizabeth Wilhelm was born last week. That makes four granddaughters and one grandson in case anyone is keeping score. So we are definitely granddaughtered. And I love these girls (and that boy)!

gwenWhen our first granddaughter was born I didn’t know that one tiny little creature could possess such transformative powers. But she changed my life forever. She made me realize in so many ways that life is worth living and that our world needs more love, especially the kind that little girls bring. Maurice Chevalier sang “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” and I do. I thank God each day for my beautiful granddaughters. They are kind, brave, smart, and loving little girls. Someday they will become women who are kind, brave, smart and loving. And they will make our world a better place. These granddaughters of mine might do great things. These granddaughters of mine might create new inventions, cure diseases, save the environment, create peace in our world, and be remembered throughout all of history as heroines. None of that matters to me because they are already my heroes. Their joy fills my soul.

Gwen is not even two weeks old and she has already carved a hole in my heart that only she can fill. She brings me great hope for our future. She will fulfill dreams that have yet to be dreamed. She will witness things in her life that I cannot even imagine. She is a precious gift from God. I will always be her grandfather and she will always be my granddaughter. We are linked forever. Nothing will ever change that.

I believe that all of my granddaughters (and my grandson) are reminders that God thinks this world is worth carrying on. While I’m holding Gwen in my arms, it’s easy for me to imagine that someday she may be steadying my old hands and helping me walk alongside her. She may be the one who brings this old man comfort in his final days. And I will have one more blessing to count.

Peace,

Denis

 

 

 

 

Guadalupe Meets Buddha

zhuijaojaoGrowing up in the Midwest, my world was pretty small. Growing up Catholic and attending parochial schools made my world even smaller. To say that my life was insular is an understatement. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know more – I just didn’t know anything else. Everyone that I knew had a mom and a dad; went to mass on Sunday; lived in a modest house; played in one another’s backyards; had a crucifix and pictures of President Kennedy and Pope John XXIII somewhere in their home; and were mostly happy (at least on the outside). I’m glad that I grew up and out and away from that life but I still remember my childhood with nostalgia. Some things haven’t changed but many things have. I believe that I have.

When I reflect on where I came from and where I am today, I become more aware of the tremendous chasm between what once was and what my life is now. I’ve lived in England. I work in Mexico. I’ve traveled the world. I have friends in England, China, Mexico, Canada, France, The Philippines and The Netherlands. I have strolled through castles in Scotland and Germany. Toured museums in Paris, Madrid and Rome. Walked down cobblestone streets in England and France. Prayed in temples, churches, abbeys and cathedrals in London, Strasberg, Mexico City, Zhujiajiao, Heidelberg and Amsterdam. As an adult I’ve had experiences that I couldn’t even imagine as I child. Today I live only a few miles from where I was born but my world is so much bigger. I respect where I’ve come from and how my upbringing formed my conscience and my beliefs but I am grateful for the experiences of this life that have expanded my horizons.

Last month I joined my manufacturing team from Mexico City on a trip to China. We were touring factories in Shanghai to give the team from Mexico some insight into successful practices being employed there. We were entering the offices of one facility and my good friend and business associate from China stopped in front of a statue of Buddha that is prominently displayed in his lobby. He asked if any of us had a coin. A member of my team from Mexico pulled a peso out of her purse. She was asked to place it on the statue of Buddha, which she did. It was explained to us that this simple act would bring peace and good luck to us and to our friend from China. I couldn’t help but think of all the statues of Our Lady of Guadalupe that I have encountered in nearly every factory, employee lounge and public place in Mexico. Of course my friends from Mexico honored the request because they are so familiar with devotion to Guadalupe. Buddha in many ways is looked upon the same way in China. His image is everywhere and perhaps is dealt with somewhat superstitiously, as are images of Guadalupe sometimes in Mexico.

But on that day, at that time, the connection was real. It’s not often in business that I have a spiritual awakening. Placing the coin on Buddha wasn’t just some hocus-pocus good luck nonsense. I may have grown up in a small town in the Midwest and my childhood experiences may have been limited but here I was in China with my friends and co-workers from Mexico sharing this moment. We weren’t arguing over political or religious differences. None of us were intent on proving our practices or our beliefs were the best. Instead we were reaching out and embracing one another’s cultures. It was done with respect and humility. We had all come from different places but that day we were focused on our similarities not our differences.  And I believe that God was pleased and we were all blessed.

Peace,

Denis