Prepare the Way

Advent 2012 -4A voice of one crying out in the desert: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”     Luke 3:4-6

Luke’s Gospel is actually recalling the words of the Prophet Isaiah. My personal rule is that any time the New Testament quotes the Old Testament we should probably pay attention because apparently it is something that bears repeating.

During Advent we are called to ‘Prepare the Way’. But what does that mean? This reading always leaves me with images of giant earth-movers, backhoes and dump trucks frantically lowering hillsides and filling in ditches and chasms. But is that what Isaiah had in mind? I don’t think so. I believe that Isaiah was speaking metaphorically. I suspect that some of us are the valleys that need to be filled and others of us are the mountains that need to be toppled. And often, I suppose, we’re a bit of both.

I know that my own arrogance, pride and boastfulness need to be ‘made low’. My heart and spirit could use some ‘filling up’ right now. And of course there is plenty that needs to be ‘straightened out’ and ‘made smooth’.

So this Advent season when I hear those ancient words of Isaiah I am reminded that God is not asking me to fix the world. He is not expecting me to make others walk the straight and narrow. He is speaking only to me about me. He is asking me to prepare myself to receive his Son. To let go of my pride and my sinfulness and to be more loving and giving. God is inviting me once again to be filled with his Spirit. And to prepare myself to revel in the birth of our Savior.

Peace,

Denis

O Come Emmanuel

Today is the first Sunday of Advent; the beginning of our preparation for the Christ-Child. And as we do most years, we sang ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’ at Mass this morning. That beautiful and mournful and hopeful hymn that has always been part of my life touched my heart in a new way this year.

O come, O come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel; that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear

Lonely exile. LONELY EXILE. LONELY EXILE! Those two words kept reverberating in my head. And that’s how I felt (how I feel). In lonely exile here. Our Church has been so busy lately defining what it means to be a Catholic Christian that I feel marginalized.

If you vote for this person you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you support women’s ordination you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you love and support gay families you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you don’t walk in lock step with the Bishops then you CAN’T really be Catholic.

And so I’m an exile. I refuse to exclude; to hate; to judge; to deny love to those who may not follow ALL the rules.

I’ve decided to join the other ‘lonely exiles’ in prayer this Advent season. I will pray for (and with) others in my Church who may feel disenfranchised; who feel left out; shut out; and alone. We may be silenced but our silent prayers cannot be stopped. And we are companions on the journey. God alone listens to our hearts and responds.

O come, Desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of all humankind; Bid thou our sad divisions cease, And be thyself our Prince of Peace.

Advent 2012May you find love, joy, comfort, but mostly peace in this Advent season.

Peace,

Denis

Parenthood

The trend today is to ALWAYS make our children happy (at all times; at any expense). Recently I encountered a young family at Chik-fil-A® (I don’t agree with their politics but they serve a great chicken sandwich and my grandkids love the place!) who were cajoling Junior into eating his nuggets with the promise of ice cream and the indoor playground – so far so good. But when Junior was presented with the ‘free book’ that came with his meal, he threw it at the beleaguered mother and screamed, “I don’t like this one!” The frazzled father promptly promised to stop on the way home and buy him a different book after he had his ice cream and play time. I then promptly gave my grandson a ‘don’t even think about look’ while he was taking all of this in.

Now I’m compelled to share my wisdom as a service to all young parents out there (even though my own children would likely tell you that all their scars are emotional). So here in no particular order are my Rules for Parenting :

  1. Stop trying to be the perfect parent; they only exist in your mother’s imagination.
  2. It’s easier to negotiate with a terrorist than a two-year old.
  3. Don’t try to be your child’s friend (be a parent; it’s more rewarding in the long run).
  4. When doling out punishment, don’t flinch; once they see your weakness they won’t let up (give up, shut up) until you cave in.
  5. When they’re old enough to walk, they’re old enough to pick up their toys.
  6. Stop buying them so much stuff; love is free and it’s worth so much more.
  7. Be silly sometimes; be serious when you must.
  8. Pray (even if you’re just praying for sanity).
  9. Pick your battles; no child ever died because he didn’t clean his plate or take a proper nap.
  10. Reasoning with a preschooler can be like trying to nail JELLO® to a tree; it’s okay to just say NO (and mean it).
  11. Close your door; give yourself a TIME OUT when things reach the boiling point.
  12. Remember who the adult is and behave like one.
  13. It’s okay to be angry; kids can sometimes really piss you off. (But use your inside voice when you’re angry).
  14. Go outside; get some exercise and breathe some fresh air (and take the kids with you).
  15. You don’t ALWAYS have to have all the answers; it’s alright to say, “because I said so; that’s why!”
  16. When in doubt trust your instincts; my parents did and look how well I turned out.

Peace,

Denis

Tell Me Something Good

When our youngest child was in school I dreaded parent-teacher conferences. His teachers always regaled us with his “litany of sins”. The teacher(s) felt compelled to tell us all the things that he had done wrong behaviorally and all of the things he hadn’t done academically. It was exhausting. And a little embarrassing. And more than a little disheartening. After all he was a very bright kid with a quick wit and tons of energy. Surely there was something good that they could tell us about our son. Then a friend (who was a family therapist by profession) suggested that we ask the teacher at the next conference to “tell us something good about our son”. And I did. And the teacher was stumped. Her response: “When he is disruptive or fails to complete his assignments he always takes his punishment well.” Wow – really??? That’s the best she could do???

But I kept asking. I asked her again and again. And I asked every teacher he had after that one.

Later he was blessed with better teachers who challenged him and developed his natural curiosity and helped channel his creativity into more positive results and he excelled, eventually becoming a National Merit Semi-Finalist.

And that’s whole thing – isn’t it? Tell me something good. Tell me that you like me. Tell me that I have value. Tell me that I matter. Tell me that I can be the best me that I can be. Tell me that my life matters.

We hear a lot in the media today and from politicians and from clergy about being PRO-LIFE. But how can we be pro-life if we’re not supporting the life that we have around us? Who decides which life is worthwhile? Who decides whose life matters? Is it only unborn babies? Shouldn’t we be supporting life in all forms? If we believe in a Creator, then isn’t all creation sacred?

So tell someone something good.

Whether it’s the old lady who slows down the ‘express lane’ at the supermarket because she actually writes a check or it’s the snarky teenager working at the convenience store whose response is never thank you but usually “here ya go” or “no prob” – Next time you encounter them, try smiling; try affirming their lives with a bit of kindness. When it’s the screaming toddler on a too-full flight or the rude telemarketer or the obnoxious co-worker, try to give them dignity; try to leave them with some peace.

Often it’s just the little things that make the difference: the smile, the kind word, a simple courtesy.

Sometimes we can even tell someone something good without saying a word. And we can make the world a better place one person at a time…

Peace,

Denis

What Happened???

I’ve been told that there are three kinds of people:

Those that make things happen. Those that watch things happen. And those that say “what happened?”

Lately I feel that I have fallen into that third category.

Let me explain: We have just recently moved back to the United States after living in England for most of this year and are still adjusting to our new/old life here (and haven’t completely unpacked). Our son just got married last week to a lovely young woman and we are still on an emotional high from that beautiful day. We had a presidential election for which I had to vote an absentee ballot because Monday after the wedding I left for a week in Mexico City to help establish a new division for my employer. I haven’t even lost my British accent (I honestly never had one, but now I do say brilliant, keen and lovely too often) and I find myself voting for an American President and trying to learn Spanish (again) all at the same time. Dios mio!

I need things to  S L O W  D O W N  a bit.  And I need to get off of this emotional rollercoaster. I am happy to be home from England and sad to have left our lovely (there I’ve said it again) life there. I am thankful for the love that Tyson and Colleen have found and resentful that the Air Force cancelled his assignment at a nearby installation so that now they begin their new life together away from family and friends. I am proud to live in a country that allows me the freedom to vote my conscience and disillusioned by the bishops and priests of my Church with their thinly veiled vitriolic attempts to control my vote (“Give back to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s”). Clearly it didn’t work anyway – 51% of Catholics voted for the President. As far as my new assignment with our Mexican division, for all of the reported lawlessness in Mexico I find the people that I’m working with to be well educated, professional, and hard-working but government regulations make employing them a monumental task (plus my aforementioned poor Spanish skills which only adds to my frustration and a nasty case of Montezuma’s Revenge – ugh!).

So I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed and a little lost(?). I’m sure I’ll catch up soon – on sleep, on correspondence, on social engagements, on our un-packing. But until then I suppose I’ll find myself scratching my head and asking, “what happened???”.

Peace,

Denis

God Bless America?

We often hear politicians and others say, “God bless America”, as if somehow America deserves God’s blessings more than any other place else on earth (or the universe).

Since returning to the United States from England I have been inundated with political ads and Facebook posts imploring us to return to the Christian values that America was founded upon. My favorite post is one that shows Jesus superimposed over the Stars and Stripes. I’m pretty sure Jesus never owned an American flag (or anything else for that matter). There’s another one that shows the White House with the caption, “Remember when God lived here?” Really???

Why do some people want to make God so small? Why reduce God to someone who only has concern for us? Our country? Our party? Our faith tradition? God doesn’t love Americans or America any more than he loves anyone or anywhere else. He doesn’t love Christians more than Jews or Muslims. If we REALLY believe in God and believe what Jesus taught us, then we should be asking God to bless our enemies (which He already does, but it would be nice to ask).

Jesus preached love. He preached unity and inclusiveness. He preached wholeness to the brokenhearted and freedom to those that have been enslaved. Shouldn’t those of us who call ourselves Christians do the same? Aren’t we supposed to love our enemies?

All God’s Children

Maybe we should ask God to bless Afghanistan or Iran or Libya. Maybe we should ask God to forgive our hatred and prejudice. God did not create me to hate me. Why would I expect any less for the rest of God’s creation?

We are free to believe what we want. To worship where and how we choose. To build walls or bridges. But we have no right to claim God for ourselves. We can try to put God in a box or a building or a temple or a tabernacle but that only proves our human limitation. And God can’t be minimized no matter how we might wish to. Recently my four year-old granddaughter said it best, “Daddy, church isn’t really God’s house.” “He lives inside us!”

Well said Anna. He lives inside us, no matter where that might be…

Peace,

Denis

Back Home

Back home. It’s strange and wonderful being back home. We’re sorting through mountains of boxes and rediscovering some old things. And because time hasn’t stood still while we lived abroad, we’re learning some new things, too. We feel a bit like time travelers who have arrived one year in the future – time marched on and now we have to catch up.

Back home. Some adjustment is required. I must stop speaking the Queen’s English – saying carry-on, keen, or bollocks just produces blank stares here. I also need to increase my volume – Americans are loud (According to Deb that shouldn’t be a problem for me). I have to stop getting in the passenger side of the car to drive and I must fight the urge to drive on the left side of the road. This is particulary challenging in parking lots where lanes aren’t clearly defined.

Back home. Love is here! From the greeting at the airport Saturday night from two squealing grandkids to the special meal that our daughter and son-in-law had waiting for us to the extra tight hugs from my Mom yesterday, love has been abundant. So much lost time to make up. I know that they say that home is where the heart is but I realize that my heart needs to be here. Back home.

Happy days!

On Sunday everytime I left the room my two year-old grandson Noah asked, “Where did Pawpaw go?”  My four year-old granddaughter Anna said it best: “Pawpaw I missed you! You can go on vacation to England again some day but you can’t live there anymore, okay?” 

Okay Noah and Anna, I’m right here and I promise I’m back home to stay…

Peace,

Denis

Time For This One To Come Home…

Does anybody remember the cartoon from the ‘60’s with Tooter Turtle and Mr. Wizard? Tooter would be granted some opportunity for adventure by Mr. Wizard only to have things go terribly wrong. He would then frantically call out, “Help Mr. Wizard!” With that Mr. Wizard would chant: “Frizzle, frazzle, frizzle, frome, time for this one to come home.” And Tooter would return home safely. The end.

Well like Tooter, I did ask for an adventure and was granted my wish: Life in England! Plus we’ve been able to travel to Paris, Madrid, and Rome. But unlike Tooter things haven’t gone terribly wrong – well a few things might have been better; after all, the economy here is in a shambles, Prince Harry was caught partying naked in Vegas, Chris Moyles has been sacked from BBC Radio One, Princess Kate has been photographed topless, the ITV morning news show ‘Daybreak’ has been revamped and it’s atrocious, Shirley MacClaine is pathetic on Downton Abbey, autumn has arrived and it’s cold & rainy & miserable and Henley’s (our favourite sweet shop) has stopped selling fudge. So I suppose “it’s time for this one to come home.”

Truth be told; we have loved our time here. But it is time to come home!

It will be nice once again to drive on the right side of the road (and on roads that are wide enough for two cars). Car parks – sorry parking lots – will seem luxurious with wide lanes and big spaces.  And even though television shows will be mostly reality stuff and stupid sitcoms they will ‘feature’ American accents (sadly no more Kirsty & Phil on Location, Location, Location; or Benidorm or Poirot).  And the adverts – sorry commercials – will be 99% political ads (which I kind of miss in a weird way). My radio will play country music (on several stations), NPR, oldies, real rock and R&B.  No more Olly Murs or Jesse J (I swear if I hear Domino one more time I might actually weep). We can have pizza – deep dish, or New York style or Chicago style, or St. Louis style. Cold beer, ice in soft drinks, free re-fills, ‘all you can eat’ buffets, and ‘Chik-fil-A’ are all in our not too distant future. And of course we will be home in time for the election brouhaha! We’ll be just in time for the debates. (Wonder how many friends I’ll lose this election year? Oh well, I suppose if they stop speaking to me because of how I vote they weren’t real friends to begin with.)

God Bless America! There’s nothing quite like it. I’m very happy to be coming home. I miss my kids and grandkids terribly. I need to be surrounded by the love of family and friends. England and our life here will always hold a special place in my heart but I need the comfort and security of home. “Help Mr. Wizard!”

“Frizzle, frazzle, frizzle, frome, time for this one to come home.”

Peace,

Denis

Fear Not

In his first Inaugural address Franklin Roosevelt said “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” That was nearly 80 years ago and sadly today our nation seems to be more fearful than ever. Shouldn’t life in America be better than it was in Roosevelt’s day? Advances in medicine alone should make life today less fearful – no Polio or Rubella or Small Pox. Technological improvements make communication instantaneous – my mom will tell you about writing letters to my dad 60 years ago while he was overseas and not getting a reply for months. My blog is free but you might have spent 5 or 10 cents on a newspaper in the 1930’s to read drivel like this. So life is better today! Then why do so many people live in fear?

Politicians seem to be great fear mongers. So are media personalities, insurance sales persons, and some clergy. Fear can be a powerful tool; just look at any political ad. Listen to any talk radio loud mouth or attend a church service and you likely be warned about some impending evil – life is scary but if you vote for me, buy my product, or follow my religion you will be safe (or safer anyway). Fear is an excellent marketing tool.

Fear has fuelled hate and prejudice. Fear has gotten us into wars. Fear begets fear. Be afraid – be very afraid!

But I for one refuse to be ruled by fear. I will not vote for you because you want me to be afraid of your opponent. I will not buy your product, listen to your propaganda or read your book because of some vague threat of evil or danger (despite your warnings). I will not buy into your fear game. And I will not follow your religion (and your rules) because of some fear of hell.

Instead I will hold my head up high and embrace the good in this world. I will take an active role in promoting peace and justice (if only in my small circle of influence). I will love God and be thankful for life in all its forms.

I want to be a role model to my grandchildren. I want them to explore the world and all its wonder and be forces for good. I want them to be ambassadors of good will; agents for positive change; lovers of justice and protectors of our planet.

Sometimes we have to stand up for what is right. And shout down the hate and inequality in our lives. Some of us will take the lead, some will follow and still others will stand silent.

But fear should never motivate us. Love should.

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Emeli Sande’s song speaks to triumph over fear – give it a listen or better yet, let it be your anthem.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFXRQKYFbXE&feature=related

School Days

My granddaughters have returned to school – Charlise second grade; Anna pre-Kindergarten. Both love school and are happy for the school year to begin.

Of course it’s impossible for me not to think of school years past – my children’s and my own. What an exciting time: new pencil cases, new notebooks, new folders, new Trapper Keepers®, new lunch boxes. A new beginning…

I always love a new beginning. And a new school year is exactly that. It’s a clean slate. Even someone who doesn’t like school (as I sometimes didn’t) is usually happy for a new school year. Maybe you’ll get a better teacher, find some new friends or have easier classes. At the very least (in theory) you can leave behind the baggage of the previous year and try again. And for those who are good students you can continue to build on your good reputation, Grade Point Average, and PERMANENT RECORD.

As a grown-up I sometimes long for a new school year. A clean slate. A do-over.

And I’ve discoverd it’s possible! I start by first looking inside myself and examining what’s in my heart and soul. Then I pray. I first ask God to forgive me (and my PERMANENT RECORD). Then I ask for the courage to leave behind ‘the baggage’; to let go of the hurt, anger, and dissapontment that breeds bitterness. And finally I ask for the wisdom (still trying to learn) to live a new life. To love a new life. To be an example to my children and grandchildren.

And of course I will fail. I will behave badly. I will refuse to love and be loved. And I will forget to thank God for the gift of my life.

And then a new school year will come ’round again…

Peace,

Denis