Commentary

Moving Across The Pond

/ Denis Wilhelm / 4 Comments

One of the things that I’ve always wanted to do is live abroad. I recently got my chance and have decided to take it. This coming January, Deb and I will be moving to Swindon, Wiltshire, U.K. for one year. I’ll be assisting with setting up my company’s new division in England. But in addition to working and living in England, we will be traveling all over Europe with my new job responsibilities. In between business meetings and touring retail developments, there should be plenty of time for castles, cathedrals, museums and the occasionl glass of wine. That’s the good news.

This will be our mantra

The bad news is that our children and grandchildren will be living in the United States. After serving six years abroad in the Air Force our son Tyson is returning stateside whilst (I’ll probably be using that word a lot in England) we’ll be living in Europe. And our grandbabies won’t be nearby (something we’ve grown accustomed to) – not to mention our daughter, son-in-law and our younger son, as well as our parents, siblings, cousins, friends, etc. If I focus on the negatives I start to question my decision. But then I remember that it’s only a year. And it’s a year in Europe!

So we will adjust, even if we shed a few tears along the way. We pray that God continues to bless our family and keep us together (even though we are apart). And as we have for the last 36+ years – Deb and I will carry one another on this journey. There has been so much racing through our heads since we made the decision to live abroad for a year : “Big things” like leaving family and friends (especially Charlise and Anna and Noah). “Little things” like not getting to watch our favorite TV shows in England. And “other things” like learning how to drive on the “wrong side” of the road.

In the meantime, we need to close up our house here and begin the search for our new home in England. Our goal is to immerse ourselves in the culture and community. We hope to live in a town or village that is primarily English – not some enclave for expatriots. We will be traveling to Swindon this fall to begin our search for housing. Fortunately, my work associate, Mark is British and has offered to help us with that task. Deb and I have lots to do and much to discover and explore. My HR Director is assisting with much of the mundane stuff – work visas, cost of living adjustments, cultural integration, etc, etc. That frees us up to do more important things like figure out where to get our hair cut and take our dry-cleaning and to look for good restaurants and pubs.

We will strive to really make England our home in 2012. Of course we hope to have lots of visitors. And we expect to make some new friends along the way, too.  Please keep us in your prayers. As always, I will share whatever and whenever I can.

Cheers,

Denis

If The Prodigal Son Had A Sister…

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I have two sons and a daughter. The sons both live a distance from us – one in Wisconsin and one in Korea. The daughter lives nearby. We see the sons (if we’re lucky) a couple of times a year. We see the daughter (and we are lucky) several times a week.

When we talk (Skype) with the sons, it’s usually about important upcoming events and significant happenings – weddings, births, travel, careers, etc. When we talk to the daughter, it can be mundane – what’s for dinner, aches and pains, the weather, etc.

It occurred to me recently that perhaps our daughter might sometimes feel like the older brother of the Prodigal Son. Needless to say, she’s here day-in and day-out listening to our latest complaints and answering our latest requests – always supportive, always cheerful, always ready for more. When “the boys” come to town it’s cause célèbre. And she often helps plan and carry out whatever festivities take place. By contrast, when she comes to dinner, she’s expected to set the table, help prepare the meal and clean up afterwards. Hardly seems fair…

Lucky Dad with Best Daughter in the World

But fairness is never part of the equation. Bess (our beautiful and gracious daughter) has inherited her mother’s gift of charity. She seldom thinks of herself first. She wants EVERYONE to be happy (and cared for, and well fed, and loved, etc.). She always gives of herself and she rarely expects anything in return. Her cheerfulness is contagious and she makes others happy by just being around her (again – a gift from her mother).

She’s here. She’s available. She’s constant. And I know that they say (whoever they are) that familiarity breeds contempt. But in our case it seems to me that familiarity creates family. We are family. And I need my daughter. And I hope she knows how much I love and appreciate her. I try to tell her in lots of small ways because we don’t have big celebrations for her and Travis and their children. We just have small celebrations and familiar and comfortable times together. And for me those small intimate gatherings are almost always more meaningful than the grand events planned for our sons.

And because of who she is, I doubt that Bess has ever resented her brothers or felt pushed aside when we “slaughter the fatted calf.” But just in case, she should know:

My (daughter), you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. ~ Luke 15:31

Peace,

Denis (Dad)

Did He Crack It?

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My eleven month old grandson Noah is a rough and tumble boy. He started walking about a week ago and now he (sort of) runs. Keep in mind, he has a 3 year old sister that he’s trying to keep up with. Also he is fearless (or clueless) about careening through dangerous piles of toys or around sharp corners or heavy objects that are easy to pull off of a table. He is just a curious little guy that deals with the consequences of his curiosity on an “as needed” basis.

Fearless Noah

Because he has excellent parents that run a lot of interference he luckily has had a lot of near misses. Only on occasion does he really get hurt. And most of the time when he stumbles and falls (or pulls something down on top of himself) he doesn’t show any signs of hurt or distress. Usually he just shrugs it off and moves (quickly) on to the next adventure. Always with a smile. Always with renewed determination. Watching him (and his parents) is like watching a finely tuned and well rehearsed ballet. It just flows – effortlessly.

Now I will admit that my heart has stopped a time or two while snatching Noah out of the jaws of a near calamity. But then he looks at me and smiles that big toothy smile and I just want to join him on his further adventures (but with everything padded and all the dangereous stuff put up!).

His big sister Anna has coined the phrase, “Did he crack it?” Which means: is there blood? It (this usually means his head) is not cracked unless there is actual blood pouring out from somewhere. Thankfully this rarely happens. And even more thankfully I have only witnessed it a time or two. But even without blood there are lots of little bumps and lumps. And I’m dreading the day when I’m the ‘adult in charge’ and there is more serious injury. It happened to Nana (Deb) on Friday and I think she cried harder than Noah. I know that I will get my turn – I just hope he doesn’t “crack it” on that fateful day.

It’s exhausting at times being a grandparent. Still it’s the best fun that I ever get to have. And as long as Noah keeps smiling (even after a few tears) he and I will just keep stumblin’ along.

Peace,

Denis

Another Day ~ Another Miracle

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Miracles. I was reminded yesterday that miracles happen daily. Sometimes we’re blessed to witness them from a front row seat.

My nephew Dave and his wife Laura had their first child yesterday. Logan David Wilhelm was born via emergency C-section at St. John’s Mercy Hospital in St. Louis. He weighs 2 lbs. 7 oz. and is 15-1/2” long. He was born two months early. Laura’s intuition probably saved her baby’s life. She felt that something wasn’t right and saw her doctor yesterday morning. I know that it’s true that Moms can sense their children’s needs. But this is the first time that I have witnessed it in vitro. Apparently the umbilical cord was wrapped around little Logan and was depriving him of nutrition and oxygen.

Even though Logan’s birth weight is extremely low and he was born 9 weeks early we remain very hopeful. He is receiving the best care possible in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at one of the best hospitals in the country. They have already reduced the amount of oxygen he is receiving and the doctors believe that my nephew and his wife should be able to hold him in a few days. I’m told that his Daddy’s touch already calms him!

My wife was with Laura and Dave until my brother Dave and sister-in-law Pat could arrive from Atlanta late last night. Great Aunt Debbie reports: “Logan is beautiful but very tiny.”

Logan ~ our little miracle

Not all miracles make the news and they may not affect multitudes but they are miracles none the less. Logan is already responsible for an amazing outpouring of love and kindness among our family and friends. His life has changed us all forever. And that change alone is miraculous. We have reaffirmed our love for one another and we are humbled by his birth. And we are reminded (again) that life is precious and it is truly a gift from God – never to be taken for granted.

We have every reason to believe that Logan will thrive but we also know that he has a tough road ahead. So much to ask of such a tiny little boy!

But someday, in 100 years or so, he can tell his story to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren: that with God’s grace and your prayers there once was a miracle named Logan.

Peace,

Denis

Smoke and Mirrors

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Recently I was in a meeting with some Sales and Marketing people. I’m the Operations guy so I have the task of actually producing the stuff that the sales people are selling – on time, on budget, etc. During this particular meeting with a potential new customer there was lots jargon and business terminology being thrown about but mostly (it seemed to me) to be a contest of who could come up with the ‘best turn of phrase’. We talked about having “boots on the ground” and “the right DNA” and there was talk of “paradigm shifting” and “proof of concept”. My favorite was when someone stated, “remember, we don’t have to build the church for Easter Sunday”. Wow – I was clearly out of my league! All this became sort of  a game of one-upmanship. For a while all I heard was, “wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, wah”. I had little to add, except for the occasional nod to their collective brilliance.

It occurred to me that for some folks there is a tremendous need to “play the part”. They feel driven to look and sound the way that their audience expects them to behave. This is exactly why I’m not in Sales. I suppose that I’m too transparent. But at least I’m true to myself (I think?).

I thought later about how many of us feel compelled to behave a certain way. We may not even believe what we espouse but we carry on as if we do. Perhaps if you repeat something often enough you will begin to believe it. “I will be kind.” “I will be kind.” “I will be kind.” Or maybe not…

There’s a guy that I know who is very pious. He carries himself with a certain air of holiness that is quite convincing, if not in fact true. He puts on quite a show of prayer and solemnity at Mass. He approaches the altar for Eucharist with great care and much bowing and reverence. He holds himself up as the epitome of righteousness. But at the end of day, he’s still an asshole.

Now I know that God alone knows his heart and soul. And perhaps when he’s approaching the altar he’s asking God to forgive his unkindness. Or maybe not. I for one would be much happier if this guy spent a little more energy on being loving than on being pious.

But now of course it’s my turn: “I will not judge.” “I will not judge.” “I will not judge.” Or maybe I will… Being honest is hard, especially being honest with yourself.  So maybe I’m more of a “Sales Person” than I think – perhaps I’m trying to convince myself that I’m ALWAYS the good guy.

I’ll bet God is laughing at that. Thankfully, I know that God is forgiving me as well.

If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-4)

Peace,

Denis

10 Things You Should Know About Mexico City

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I’ve been working in Mexico City again this week and I’ve made some ‘not so keen’ observations that might help others that travel to this beautiful city of nearly nine million people.

Here goes:

  1. People appreciate it greatly when you “try” to speak Spanish – even a little bit. It’s not too hard to remember “si” or “buenos dias” or “gracias”. I’m always greeted with smiles when I speak Spanish (or perhaps they’re just suppressing their need to laugh at my poor pronunciation).
  2. Men don’t wear shorts here. Only children and touristas.
  3. Public prayer is encouraged. In the El Palacio de Hierro department store in which we were installing a new shop there was a small shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe at the employee entrance. Several people blessed themselves upon arrival or departure from work. Imagine that at a Macy’s!
  4. Margaritas are for girls. Next time order a Michelada or a tequila.
  5. Refried beans is the breakfast of campeones! Just eat it. It’s great with your eggs.
  6. Mexico City is in a valley of mountains; the elevation is high and the air is dry. Wear a sweater at night. It gets cool even in the summer – nobody will think you’re a sissy (unless of course you order a Margarita).
  7. There is a rich and vibrant history here. There is French, German, and English colonial heritage as well as Spanish. The Mexican people have also held on to many native customs and traditions. How sad for the U.S. that the same is not true.
  8. Mexicans work hard. My installation crew here could easily “out-work” any crew I’ve had in the U.S. or Europe.
  9. Films dubbed in Spanish in Spain are annoying to Mexicans – According to Jorge, “Rambo or Rocky shouldn’t speak ‘proper Spanish’ with the lisp!” “Muy loco!”
  10. If you look like me people will ask you if you’re Steve Martin – happens every time I’m down here. I usually just smile and say “si” or “buenos dias” or “gracias”.

Evening sky over Mexico City

    I’m looking forward to getting home tomorrow but I will miss Cuidad de Mexico a little. Especially Jorge, Hector, Gustavo, Miguel, Marco and Marcela who did an amazing job this week and welcomed me into their city as well.

Tonight it seems only fitting that I ask Our Lady of Guadalupe to watch over each of them. May she intervene on their behalf and ask her Son our Lord to bless them and their families.

Oh yes – #11. We’re very Catolico down here, too.

Peace,

Denis

Below is a link to a slide show from my trip this week – disfrutar!

http://tripwow.tripadvisor.com/tripwow/ta-028b-6f66-a828?lm

Sunday Mornings

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I love Sunday mornings. It’s officially my time to do nothing. We leave for Mass around 10:00 so there are 3 or 4 glorious hours most Sunday mornings with nothing planned. What makes this makes this time so precious is the fact that it is so carefree – no agenda; no schedule; no demands. Just blissful peace and quiet. I don’t like the television on (although occasionally I will turn on some music). Most mornings, I “hit the ground running” but on Sundays I like to  S L O W   D O W N  and breath in the beauty of life. I like to take time to be thankful for my blessings.

Over coffee and a leisurely breakfast we’ll discuss our day (or not) but mainly we just sort of “drink in” the serenity of another Sunday morning. It’s cathartic. When the kids were little I told them that at bedtime or nap time they needed to rest and “recharge their batteries”. I think that’s what Sunday mornings do for me – they recharge my batteries.

It might seem a little silly and perhaps I’m just playing games with my mind but I need my Sunday mornings. I need for the world to be peaceful and still for just a moment. I need the quiet freedom Sunday morning provides. It refreshes my soul and re-energizes me.

Summer Sunday Morning

Of course I know that some folks work on Sundays and not everyone lives a 9 to 5 existence. But I think we all need to find our ‘Sunday morning’ regardless of what time or what day it may really be. Our world is becoming more and more hectic and fast-paced everyday. We all demand constant information and instant gratification. We must be fast; first; and best! So what I’m suggesting is slightly counter-cultural: stop running (for just a moment); stop worrying (if you can); stop achieving (or over-achieving). Just relax. Just take a deep breath and let go of it all. Find your ‘Sunday morning’ wherever and whenever you can. And relish it.

Tomorrow I will be able to “slay dragons” but only if I have my Sunday morning first.

Peace,

Denis

Making Anna Cry

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Last night my three year-old granddaughter Anna was being a little mischievous. She was antsy at dinner and didn’t want to eat anything (except dessert of course). After much cajoling she finally ate enough to qualify for some ice cream. Once that milestone had been met she promptly bounded out of her chair and dashed to the refrigerator. And then she threw both the refrigerator and freezer doors open. When I reminded her that she wasn’t supposed to open the refrigerator she protested that “she had eaten her dinner”.

Now usually I’m pretty accommodating when it comes to the grandkids (some would say I’m a sucker) but this particular time I decided to hold my ground. In a battle with an impetuous three year-old you have to be pretty wily. So I decided to show her who was boss. I told her that I would gladly get her some ice cream from the downstairs freezer after she picked up the Legos that were strewn on the laundry room floor. Did I mention that I was using my big loud “I’M IN CHARGE” voice? Anna is not accustomed to hearing me speak to her that way and with that came the tears. Not just tears – sobs!

Her mother had previously threatened her with a dreaded “time out” and Anna was undaunted. But Pawpaw raising his voice and telling her NO? That was too much! And she cried. And cried! And cried!
 
When her Nana tried to intervene by asking her why she was crying so hard, she responded: “Because Pawpaw was mean to me!” Ouch! That stung. I had merely wanted her to mind me, not to emotionally scar her for life. What had I done? What kind of beast had I become? Now I was the one fighting back the tears. But instead of giving in (my first impulse), I decided to reason with her. Reasoning with a three year-old is like trying to put socks on an octopus. But I gave it a try because I think that Anna is more reasonable than most three year-olds (at least in my experience – remember I raised her mother).
 
I held her and wiped her tears and explained that my old refrigerator couldn’t handle being opened and closed too often and that the doors don’t always close all the way without the special push that Nana and Pawpaw give them. Because three year-olds anamorphize most things, in her mind that poor refrigerator became a living thing which must be treated with some compassion. Additionally I told her that I would help her pick up the Legos and we could count them to see how many we each could pick up. She smiled because she counted: “one, two, three, four, five, one hundred”. And then declared herself the winner! By then most of the tears were gone although her little face was still red and tear-stained.
 
When I returned to the table with the promised ice cream she seemed to have forgiven me but I’ll never know for sure. And of course Deb (Nana) and Bess (Mommy) were now crying, too.

During Happier Times

Making Anna cry is not what I had intended to do. But I suppose that all grandfathers find themselves in tough spots sometimes. I could have ignored her naughtiness, and maybe I should have, but something made me risk her adoration by standing firm. I hope that she will understand how much I love her and that even the best granddaughters need to be told “no” every once in a while. But for now I’ve sworn off disciplining my grandkids, I much prefer being the big softie.
 
I don’t plan on making Anna cry any time soon. Honestly, it’s really more than I can take. So yes Anna; whatever it is you want, the answer is yes!
 
Peace,

Denis

Did I Ever Tell You About The Time…?

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I can almost hear the groans as I write this. “YES! We all know that story!”

Maybe someday Noah will continue the legacy

My Dad, God bless him, loves to tell his stories. The problem is that he has told the SAME stories (and jokes) for as long as I can remember. He really needs some new material. Dad is 85 years old now and I suppose he is entitled to repeat himself but everyone in the family can tell his stories verbatim. 

Somehow that doesn’t bother him. He tells them again (and again). Mom usually rolls her eyes and the grandkids giggle because it’s a ritual they’ve come to appreciate. Sometimes they’re the instigators. “Hey Grandpa, how did you and Gram meet?’ or “Hey Grandpa, did you really travel through the Panama Canal during World War II?” or “Grandpa, what’s that joke about the priest, the rabbi, and the Lutheran minister?” And he’s off and running…

Now of course I am doing the same thing (and I’m not certain when it really started). I will repeat the same joke ad nauseam – because “if it’s funny the first time”…

I will recount for the umpteenth time a story (which may contain some truth) about something that happened before most of my captive listeners were born. I CAN’T HELP MYSELF. I don’t know, maybe it’s genetic; maybe it’s a learned behavior. It’s like the cycle of abuse – I’ve become the abuser (in this case the serial story-teller). And I kind of like it. No, I really like it. It’s frightening!

The problem for serial story-tellers like me is that our victims are all too willing. Most people are either too polite to ask that I “shut up” or they are actually entertained (initially). It doesn’t matter. If I have a willing listener – I will talk. All normal social clues such as yawning, looking at a watch, blank stares, preoccupation with cell phones, PDAs, etc., have no power over a serial story-teller. Debbie even tries to ‘intervene’ by asking me to “not tell that one again” – that’s utter foolishness. Once I’ve settled in – you’re there for the WHOLE STORY. I wish I could stop, but I can’t.

And I know that someday I’ll be very sad when Dad’s not around to tell his stories (even though we sometimes groan). But he needn’t worry, I’ll be telling them for him. Maybe that’s my purpose – to keep the flame alive. Perhaps Dad is passing the torch so that HIS stories will live on long after he does. Or maybe it’s just an annoying habit that I’ve picked up.

Either way, did I ever tell you about how Mom and Dad met…?

Peace,

Denis

Burden

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” These are Jesus’ words in Matthew’s Gospel. And often I need that reminder.

We all feel burdened from time to time but sometimes I admit that I play the “martyr”. Why me? Poor me! How can this be happening? What else can possibly go wrong? It’s during these times of self-pity that I forget God’s promise of love. I become so self-absorbed that I can only focus on my needs – my pain – my heartache. And my burden only becomes greater because I fail to remember that I am never truly alone.

During those darkest times – when I am feeling alone and unloved and that I am carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders I try to recall the words of a hymn that Deb shared with me the first year that we were married:

God has not promised skies always blue,

Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;

God has not promised sun without rain,

Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

But God has promised strength for the day,

Rest for the labor, light for the way;

Grace for the trials, help from above,

Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

Burdens. We all must bear them from time to time. Some are heavier than others. Some can be life-changing. And some might seem insurmountable. But nothing is stronger or more powerful than God’s love. The beauty of my life is that God delivers his love to me daily – through the shared hymn given to me by my beautiful wife; by the sweet kisses of my granddaughters or the giggle of my grandson; by the loving words of my children; by the comfort and concern of my siblings; by the countless kindnesses bestowed upon me by friends. Many times they have dried my tears; shared my struggles; helped me find my way.

"Nana, why are you crying?"

The other evening Deb was reading a bedtime story to our granddaughters – “That’s What Grandmothers Are For”. Now she has been known to cry watching a Hallmark® commercial so the fact that this book’s tender message brought tears to her eyes was no surprise to me. The girls however were both concerned because Nana was crying. Instinctively our younger granddaughter Anna grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. The pure compassion of that gesture then brought me to tears. What an amazing example our children have set for their own children!

Being Christ to one another is the ultimate expression of God’s love. Thanks to each of you for the times that you have carried my burden. I hope that you will allow me the honor of carrying yours, too.

Aretha Franklin sang about it in 1969. Still sounds good today…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reeE8mbh0zA

Peace,

Denis