Commentary

I Must Have Done Something Good

/ Denis Wilhelm / 4 Comments

There’s a song from the musical The Sound of Music with the line “somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good”. To be honest, I sometimes feel that way. I have received so much in this life that I don’t deserve; that I didn’t earn; that should have been given to someone more worthy. Loving children. Perfect grandchildren. Family and friends that have carried me along on my journey. A comfortable home. A career that I’m proud of. But mostly my beautiful wife.

Deb, “here I am standing here loving you, whether or not I should…”

My wife, my love, my life. We have defied all odds: married too young; too poor; under-educated; having children when we were barely adults ourselves; career disasters; job changes; money troubles; moving out of state and out the country and back again. And yet, here we are still together. Forever.

Your birthday seems like a perfect time to tell you what you mean to me. When I try to put it in to words it all seems too simple; too ordinary. I love you. The end. But it’s so much more that.

BirthdayNo one gets to me the way you do. No one can make me feel as passionate as you. No one can push me to the edge and then pull me back quite like you. No one lights up a room like you. No one can make me laugh at myself harder than you can. You have shared my happiest days and my moments of utter despair. You have held my hand as I have walked through good times and bad. You keep me grounded and you give me wings. I have witnessed your exquisite beauty, your kindness, your gentleness and your strength countless times and I am still in awe.

And you still do that thing to me that no one else can do: You make me want to be a better man. Thank you for loving me all these years.

I must have done something good…

Happy Birthday,

Denis

When All Else Fails…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

This has been a gut-wrenching week. I have experienced disappointment and heartache at every turn. I am numb with grief for our friends who lost their son to a drug overdose. I am saddened by the realization that a co-worker seems to be losing his battle with cancer. I am frightened by the senseless violence in our streets: another day, another homicide. It feels overwhelming and I feel hopeless and helpless. So much sadness. So much despair.

I am often reminded that when all else fails we should pray. But I’m almost too angry to pray right now. I want some answers! Why? Why does this happen? How could this happen? When will it stop? God you owe me some answers. I want promises; not platitudes. I want understanding; not condemnations. I want action; not plans.

My prayers seem empty as my thoughts are clouded with lost lives; lost hope; lost faith; lost dreams. And yet I pray (or try to) for promise; for understanding; for action. I have found comfort in the words of Saint Francis:

st-francis-peace-prayerLord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.

In my hopelessness and helplessness I ask God to make me a channel of peace. Let me bring reconciliation to those I encounter and give me the grace to let go of my anger and disappointment. Then perhaps I can help others begin to heal.

Peace,

Denis

The He-Man Hideout

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I consider myself a feminist. My wife has always been my partner – my equal in all things. I raised my daughter to believe that she could achieve anything that she desired. I have supported women’s rights (equal pay/equal opportunity) in the workplace. I stand firmly against any and all discrimination against women.

And yet I love that my grandson and I enjoy the fun that we can only have because we’re boys.

Noah is big on gender identification. I’m not sure if this is learned or just in his nature. Example: he thinks boys or men should always have the blue clothes/cup/plate/bowl/crayon/toy while girls or women should have the pink whatever. He likes to group men and women separately: “The boys should sit on this side and the girls should sit on that side”. He is very happy when he and Daddy do “just boy things” together.

He loves his mommy and his sister and his Nana and his girl cousins but sometimes a boy just needs to be a boy. Whether that means playing in the dirt or climbing a tree (which girls can do with equal ability – just don’t tell Noah) or pretending to be a super-hero, a pilot, a carpenter or a policeman (again, all things girls can do, too). He just likes being a boy and likes to distinguish himself from the girls in his 4 year-old world.

bubby and meHe and I have a “He-Man Hideout” in my backyard. It’s really just a garden bench but it becomes an airplane cockpit or a super-hero mission control station or simply a hiding place where no girls are allowed (expect his sister who has been granted exclusivity). I’ll admit I cherish our time together on that bench, listening to his imaginative exhortations. He is the MAN IN CHARGE. At least in the He-Man Hideout.

I’m not too concerned that his adult years may be consumed by cigar bars or strip clubs or fraternities or any other all-male enclave. Good parenting and common sense will curb that unlikely possibility. I’m certain that he will grow up to be the thoughtful, loving and respectful man that his father is. He will love women for their strength, intelligence, kindness, and generosity, as well as their beauty (just look at the examples he has in his family).

Still there is something wonderful about being a boy in a boy’s world and I am thankful that he’s let me in on occasion.

Peace,

Denis

Anna Writes

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Our seven year-old granddaughter Anna likes to journal. She carries her journal with her most days and jots down notes or stories. She also sketches and adds drawings to some of her writings. Anna starts second grade this year and I don’t believe that her writing is extraordinary for a second grader but she writes because she loves to and I find that extraordinary. When I was in primary school I would never write during the summer months and each school year would begin with a challenging week or two trying to relearn what I had forgotten.

Anna may never be a gifted author but just loving to read and write will make her a better student; a better communicator; a better citizen; and a better person. And of course I believe that she is brilliant, so others’ opinions of Anna mean little to me.

Anna's blog post

The bottom line is this: Anna writes. She reads. She thinks. She reflects.

We as a society have become so used to instant gratification. Instant messaging. Instagram. I have more information at the click of a mouse or the touch of a screen than is housed at my local library. I carry microprocessors around in the form of my smart phone and tablet and yet at times it seems that I am stunningly unaware of the beauty around me. How often have I missed the song of birds in my own garden because my ear buds are plugged into my iPod? How often have I missed the smile of a stranger (or a loved one) because I have my face planted in my iPad as I read emails or text messages or Facebook posts? How often have I neglected someone “in person” while chatting away on my iPhone?

Anna WritesDon’t get me wrong: Technology is wonderful. Abundant information makes for informed consumers and citizens. But sometimes we have to experience life – real life – with all our senses. We need to see, hear, touch, taste, and smell all of God’s creation. We need to unplug. Quiet ourselves. Read a book. Listen to nature. Hold a hand. Share a meal.

And then maybe we can pick up a pencil and write about our experiences.

Anna does.

Peace,

Denis

 

 

 

Come To The Water

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baptismWater gives life.

Our lives begin in water. Water makes up 60-70% of our bodies. Water covers 70% of the Earth’s surface. Plants need water to grow. Fish need water to swim. Animals and humans need water to drink. Human beings can survive for weeks or even months without food but only days without water. Water is essential for life on Earth.

Water destroys.

Flooding devastates homes, crops, and at times kills human and animal life. Flash floods can develop in just a few minutes and without visible signs of rain. Drowning in the United States is the second leading cause of death in children 12 and younger. Tsunamis and tidal waves can wipeout nearly everything in their paths.

Water fascinates.

Most people are drawn to water. Swimming pools and water parks draw millions everyday. Water fountains, pond pumps and sprinklers dot our landscapes. Ocean-front and lake-front properties are sold at a premium. We spend precious vacation time getting to beach destinations just to play in the water. Boating, skiing, canoeing, kayaking and various other water recreations vie for our time and money.

Yesterday, as our youngest grandchild Ainsley was being baptized, I was thinking about how basic water is to our human existence; how ordinary; how necessary; how miraculous.

It’s fitting then that Baptism requires water. Through the waters of Baptism we are born to new life in Christ and sin is destroyed. After Baptism we live the rest of our lives fascinated by God’s unending power to transform our lives. Baptism isn’t a one-time event. It’s an invitation to “play in the water”. To immerse ourselves in the love around us. To refresh ourselves when our journey becomes burdensome. To cleanse ourselves when darkness overtakes our spirit. The life-giving water of Baptism never leaves us. It remains essential for our life on Earth.

cousinsMy prayer for Ainsley is that her life will be filled with love, peace and joy. And that she will always know that she has been strengthened by the power of that baptismal water. We have all been blessed by having experienced it with her.

Peace,

Denis

Ainsley, I hope you find your wings. Love, Pawpaw

 

 

 

My Version of Heaven

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Lately I’ve been pondering heaven. Maybe because according to AARP I am now a senior citizen and should be obsessed with all end of life matters. But it’s more likely because I have grandchildren who talk about heaven and how wonderful it will be someday.

heavenWill it be wonderful? Will it be awesome? Will it be at all? Truth is, none of us knows for sure. Throughout history much has been written about heaven. Theologians have contemplated and expounded on paradise and eternal life in God’s presence for eons but the images of heaven most of us carry in our minds are those of a child. After all, pearly gates and streets of gold and billowy white robes are the stuff of nursery rhymes and fairy tales.

Let me be clear: I believe in a Creator. I believe in a Redeemer. I believe in a Sanctifier. I believe that the Creator made me from love; that the Redeemer saved me through love; that I am sanctified by the love the Creator and Redeemer have for one another.

That’s theologically heady stuff that as an adult I can embrace. But where is heaven and what is heaven? I’m afraid I am stuck with childish beliefs that don’t work for the grown up (old) me. My image of heaven has not been much different from that of my grandchildren. But I’m challenging myself to look at heaven in a new way.

So here’s my theory: (Assumptions being made for the existence of heaven and my ability to share in the experience). I believe that heaven is the ultimate manifestation of God’s love for us. I believe that in heaven when I am reunited with my loved ones it will be when the love we shared was the most sublime. I believe that I will encounter everyone in the state of being I most loved and they will likewise encounter me.

I will feel the comfort of snuggling in my mother’s arms as a small child. I will fun free in the woods with my best friend. I will once again experience the overwhelming beauty of seeing my bride walk down the aisle with the sun gleaming through the church windows. I will hold my newborn children in my arms and be overwhelmed by their awesome beauty and complete helplessness. I will laugh with my sons at scout camp and hug them tightly at basic training and the first day at University. I tell my daughter bedtime stories and kiss her soft cheek on her wedding day. I will play with my grandchildren at the beach and in the backyard and receive the sweet kisses that can melt even the hardest of hearts.

And how will others encounter me? I hope it will be at the happiest times. At times when peace and love was spoken without words.

So heaven may have streets of gold and angels and harps and clouds and unbelievable beauty and majesty but I’d rather be holding hands with my wife while walking down some quiet lane together reminiscing about the life we’ve shared. And I hope that in heaven she will encounter the man who is worthy of her love.

Now that would be eternal bliss…

Peace,

Denis

Family Values

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

In our family we have a saying: “Who said it, Anna or Nana?” That’s because our 7 year-old granddaughter often says things that sound as if they’ve come directly out of my wife’s mouth or vice-versa. Example: Upon getting new earrings, “I believe that perhaps emerald has been my color all along.” Or after an exhaustingly long and fruitless shopping day, while being reminded that we did in fact find one of the sought-after items, “But that wasn’t really a present for me!”

I’ll let you decide who said what. The point is that these two often express themselves almost identically. It’s funny and adorable and baffling. Is it possibly hereditary? Or is it learned behavior? What makes a 7 year-old want to be like her grandmother? And what makes a grandmother (at times) behave like a 7 year-old?

Anna NanaSeems mysterious but I believe it can be explained. In the truest sense, these are family values. Not the “Traditional Family Values” which is often a religious or biblical distortion with a thinly veiled political agenda. True family values are the things that your family or my family value. It’s not a list of rules that we’ve been told to follow. Our family values come from our hearts and souls.

In our family we value love above all. “I love you” is a constant in our home and nothing sounds sweeter. Respect for one another. The right to disagree without being disagreeable. Caring for one another. Lifting each other up in times of need and allowing others to carry us on occasion. Joy. Laughing first and foremost at ourselves and sharing laughter, good times and fun whenever possible. Tears. We cry for one another. Our hearts break when one of us is suffering and when one of us cries the others can taste the salt. Honesty. Being true to yourself and being accepted by those who love you as you are. Prayer. We pray for peace, compassion, understanding, gentleness and courage. We thank God for our blessings and our strength in times of hardship.

So if Anna acts (and talks) like Nana or Nana acts (and talks) like Anna, it’s only because they mirror the love that they have for one another. And reflect our family’s values.

Peace,

Denis

Run Away With Me

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Today I turn 60.

I’ve been thinking lately that my life is best described as a journey. Not so much one long journey but instead it’s been a series of many journeys. Some pleasant. Some mundane. Some exquisite. Some devastating. Some planned. Some unexpected. One journey after another. Another day. Another journey.

The constant in all this journeying is my beautiful wife Deborah. Over 40 years ago I asked if she would run away with me and she said yes. And that’s how it’s been ever since. Always side by side on this crazy ride. Pushing and pulling each other along the way, we’ve made the best of it all and never regretted the journey’s twists and turns. Sometimes holding on to one another in delight or terror. Still we’ve made our way.

I know that there are no guarantees in life (except that it will end one day) so I will take it one day at a time. It’s said that man plans and God laughs. I prefer to think that every step of our journey together, whether planned or unplanned, has been ordained by the mystery of God’s love for us. And I’m sure we’ve given God plenty to laugh about!

boatAll I know is I must have done something good along the way because Deb agreed to run away with me all those years ago and we’ve kept running. And the older I get the more I realize that where we’re headed is nothing compared to journeying there together. On those darkest days, when all seems lost, I look beside me and know that everything will be alright. When happiness abounds, I know that it’s because of the love she brings to my life. And once again I thank God.

I asked her to run away with me and she said yes! And the journey continues…

So today is my birthday but I don’t need to blow out any candles.

Deb, you already know my wish. Let’s go!

Peace,

Denis

 

My Sister’s Mother

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

My sister and I have sort of a running joke. Our 86 year-old mother sometimes acts her age and complains too much about her aches and pains or obsesses over the sad state of our world today. She will ignore what her own physician says but will follow the advice of Dr. Phil or Dr. Oz. Her hearing is not as good as it used to be and conversations can be exhausting. We often lose our patience with her, call one another in exasperation and ask, “Have you heard what YOUR mother said today?”

Mom and meAfter all, Mom has always been young, proud, beautiful, strong, well-informed and quick-witted. WE CAN’T HAVE HER ANY OTHER WAY. Such is the challenge with aging parents. Mom took care (takes care) of us, and now we struggle with the heartbreaking reality that someday soon we may need to take care of Mom. It’s life’s cruel joke. Mom, who bandaged our knees, held our hands, kissed away our tears, solved our problems, needs us now more than we need her. Perhaps she always did.

Mom and kayI think about my own children and grandchildren and how my heart aches at times when I hear of their misfortunes or disappointments. I think about how my heart soars when I hear about their triumphs and accomplishments. But mostly I cherish the simple times; the quiet moments; the unspoken love we share. Surely Mom must feel that way, too.

As Mother’s Day approaches, I will continue to ask God for patience and a gentler spirit when dealing with Mom. I will try to show more interest in what’s happening in her life and remind myself that she is still relevant. I will listen – REALLY LISTEN – and I will let her take care of me (even if it means worrying about something that doesn’t really need worrying about) and I will try to take care of her the best I can.

Mom and MeMom deserves more than our love. She needs us to be present: right here – right now! She deserves dignity, respect and kids who will let her be a little crazy (?) at times. Maybe we’re the crazy ones. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure my sister might be.

Peace,

Denis

Why My Aunt Loretta Is The Reason I Was Born

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My parents met in 1946.

Dad had been honorably discharged from the Navy and returned to his hometown. Young and restless after having seen the horrors of the Pacific in WWII and more of the world than he had ever imagined, he was living with his parents, his grandmother, three of his aunts and his two younger brothers in a cramped house. He was ready to be on his own!

Mom had recently left the family farm and had moved in with her married sister and her family to be near the shoe factory where she had found employment. Factory work wasn’t easy but it was easier than life on the farm, caring for a widowed father and an invalid brother. She was ready to be on her own!

On that fateful day in August, Mom was walking home from her job at Brown Shoe Factory with a co-worker named Wayne. Dad was tooling around town in his car and spotted Wayne, who was an old school freind, walking with a pretty young girl. Dad pulled over and asked Wayne if he and his girlfriend would like a ride. Wayne’s response: “Sure George, but she’s not my girlfriend.”

And off they went with Mom in the front seat between Dad and Wayne. Dad, ever the sly one, dropped buddy Wayne off first so he could be alone with Mom. Mom remembers hugging the passenger door and leaning as far away from ‘The Stranger’ as possible. She thought he was handsome and friendly but maybe too friendly. She was releaved to be safely dropped at her sister’s door.

Before driving away Dad asked Mom out – that night. There was a VJ (Victory over Japan) Day dance that evening and he was a returning Vet and she would make him so happy if she would be his date. She thanked him for the ride home but gave him the “brush off” by telling him that she was busy.

momdad3

Dot and George ~ Still in love after all these years

Dad, never one to take no an answer, went home, cleaned up and put on his best suit and showed up at Aunt Loretta and Uncle Les’ door to pick up his date in time for the big dance. When Mom realized he was there she ran upstairs and asked her sister to lie and say she wasn’t there. But Aunt Loretta must have seen something in Dad that Mom hadn’t seen, in her haste to get away from him earlier that day, or perhaps she just wanted Mom out of her house.

So Aunt Loretta yelled up the steps, “Dot, your date’s here!” And the rest is history.

That was 70 years ago and Mom and Dad are still in love and just recently celebrated their 69th wedding anniversary.

We lost Aunt Loretta a few years ago but I can still hear her laugh and say, “You can thank me! If I hadn’t opened that door back in August 1946, none of you would kids be here today!”

And so it is…

Peace,

Denis