Autumn (or as I prefer to call it – gravy season)

The leaves and the temperatures are falling; the flower beds are raggedy; the days are getting shorter. It must be Autumn. Time to harvest and store for winter. Our yearly reminder that all life must end.

But fear not. Spring will come again! Life will be renewed.

But until then, bring on the sweaters. Pile on the blankets. Light the fires. And please pass the gravy. Or stew. Or soup. Or meat pie. And lots of stuffing and potatoes and more gravy please.

gravyOf course here in the United States we will be celebrating Thanksgiving soon. And in the true spirit of that holiday we give thanks for our abundant blessings. Traditionalists share a meal of turkey and dressing and sweet potatoes and corn and cranberries – all foods native to North America. We will  celebrate and remember the Pilgrims’ first Thanksgiving. And we top off our meal of thanksgiving with pumpkin pie (which is sort of the gravy of desserts – no chewing is required).

I suppose sumptuous meals lessen my seasonal depression. I don’t like cold weather. I don’t love snow. I find winter bleak and dreary. So when the occasional gravy-smothered meal is served it eases my loss of blue skies and warm weather. And bulky sweaters assist in covering up an expanded waistline. Seasons change. Weight fluctuates. It’s the circle of life.

However this year I’m determined to not board the “gravy boat”. I will maintain a healthy diet. I will resist all temptation. I will face those cheesy casseroles and warm muffins and gravy-laden delicacies with resolve. I will say no to the extra helping. No to the second dessert. No to the cup of hot cocoa with those adorable tiny marshmallows. No to the warm puddings covered in cream. No, no, no!

But who am I kidding? If God had wanted us to starve all winter he wouldn’t have created Autumnal foods in the first place. Mmmm – meatloaf! Even the name sounds decadent.

So pull up a chair and pass the platter. And please excuse me while look for my favorite pair of loose-fitting jeans and that bulky sweater with the gravy stains.

Peace,

Denis

Hope For The Future

I had a friend who used to say, “Babies are a great way to start people.”

And it’s true. I don’t think anyone would be excited to bring home a bouncing baby adult. No one would consider a snarky teenager their bundle of joy. There is nothing precious or particularly sweet about a menopausal woman or cranky middle-aged man, no matter how much pink or powder blue they’re swaddled in.

So starting humans out as babies is our best hope for the future of humankind. We fall in love with those adorable, helpless, innocent beings and then we’re hooked for life. Sometimes as parents (on the darkest days of teenage drama) we look back on memories of our babies and remember why we loved them so much in the first place. And we carry on (and so do they). According to a recent study published in Frontiers in Psychology scientists have discovered that the scent of a newborn baby taps right into the pleasure centers of a woman’s brain. So women are programmed to love their newborns (even the ones that cry a lot). I think this sweet baby smell-thing works on dads, too. I’m not a scientist but I can tell you that it worked on me. After all these years I can still remember the smell of our babies. And if I sit quietly for a moment and concentrate, I can still feel their tiny hearts beating against mine. The joy of holding a newborn is simple and profound and truly spiritual. Confirmation of God’s love for us and acknowledgement that we should continue.

AinsleySo it’s with great joy that our new granddaughter Ainsley joins the human race and brings hope for our future. She is already loved and she will undoubtedly fill the world with joy. She may do great things some day but none will be more special than the day that she was born. She is God’s proof that life is worth living and that our world needs more love. We will cherish her and in return she will give us happy days and peaceful nights. We will cheer her and in return she will give us hugs and kisses and good wishes. We will carry her and someday she will gently hold our old hands and steady us as we walk beside her.

We will give her love and she will give us hope. And she will be a constant reminder that God hasn’t given up on us yet.

Peace,

Denis

Francis Gives Me Hope

Pope Francis certainly has the attention of the press. And much of the faithful. And me.

He has shown himself to be a humble man willing to embrace the poorest amongst us. He has bucked the traditionalists who wanted more theological dogma. He has exasperated the Church hierarchy while they are busy telling us what he meant to say. Francis keeps shaking things up. Today’s interview in America Magazine only serves to further frustrate his critics.

“A person once asked me, in a provocative manner, if I approved of homosexuality. I replied with another question: ‘Tell me: when God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of this person with love, or reject and condemn this person?’ We must always consider the person.”

Read the whole article here – http://www.americamagazine.org/pope-interview

For several years now I have felt cold, distant and isolated in my Church. Far too long I have felt marginally Catholic (or not Catholic at all). The cultural battle within our Church has divided communities, parishes and families. Instead of joining together in prayer and worship we are often focusing our time and talent on divisive issues. Who is worthy? Who is authentic? Who really belongs at this table?

But where is the charity? Where is the compassion? Where is Jesus in all of this?

When I listen to Pope Francis words, “Without hope, we can walk, but we’ll become cold, indifferent, self-absorbed,  distant and isolated” my hope is once again restored.

And with HOPE my faith is being restored.

Pope FrancisMore powerful than Francis’ words; his love for all of God’s creation and his humility should be an example for us. Ultra-conservative Catholics are in an uproar because he hasn’t devoted enough attention to church teaching on abortion, contraception and homosexuality. Instead he has made poverty and social justice a priority. He is embracing all of us not just a select few who seem obsessed with dogmatic allegiance.

“This Church with which we should be thinking is the home of all, not a small chapel that can hold only a small group of selected people.”

I want to belong to that Church; the one that “throws the doors open” and welcomes us all. A ‘big tent’ Church that has room for saints and sinners. I want a Church where my daughter and granddaughters will be given the same dignity and opportunity as men.

Francis gives me hope…

Peace,

Denis

Companions on the Journey

I am not alone. I am never alone. Lately I have been reminded of this truth. This life; this journey is not solitary. God sends us partners. God sends us companions for our journey.

I’ve been on a bit of an emotional roller-coaster in the past few weeks.

Good news: Granddaughters Charlise and Anna are happily in school – 3rd grade and kindergarten. Grandson Noah turns 3 in two weeks and has adjusted to being at home without big sister (and maybe is relishing all the extra attention). Grandchild #4 is due in about a month and is anxiously and joyfully anticipated (another girl). Home projects are near successful completion. Work and travel have been manageable this summer. The St. Louis Cardinals are headed for a pennant race. And next weekend we will join in the celebration of Deb’s Goddaughter’s marriage.

Bad news: My Aunt Loretta passed away unexpectedly. My heart aches for my cousins in their loss. She was always the “life of the party” and she will be dearly missed. Our son Blake was severely burned in a kitchen accident at work 2 weeks ago – hot butter spilled down his foreman. This resulted in third degree burns that have required a skin graft. His recovery will be slow and painful. Still we are thankful for skilled surgeons, a caring and knowledgeable nursing staff, and countless prayers from friends.

All of which makes me realize that I am never alone. Even when I want to just pull the covers over my head and cry out “WHY!”, I am reminded that I have companions on this journey. I can face the bad news; the setbacks; the hardships because my load is lightened by the love and support of those around me.

We never walk alone

We never walk alone

More importantly I am reminded that I can also bring healing and compassion to others as they journey through their lives. Jesus told us to love one another. That doesn’t simply mean “do no harm”. It means that we must reach out to those in need. That we must care. That we must pray. That we must love actively by investing ourselves in the lives of others. And we must allow others to carry our burdens, too. Sometimes our journeys are messy. Often there are detours along the way. But we never walk alone.

God sends us companions for our journey. I am thankful for those who have guided me along my way. And I am humbled by their compassion.

Peace,

Denis

On This Day…

Today is my wife’s birthday.

It’s hard sometimes to believe that we’ve known each other for 40 years. We met after high school graduation when we were both working part-time at the same discount store while attending local colleges. We had attended different high schools and we were attending different colleges but we spent a lot of time together at our part-time jobs.

Friendship turned into love and love turned into marriage. And the rest is history.

What I didn’t know 40 years ago could fill volumes. But what I did know then, was that Debbie was (and is) perfect for me. And everyday with her has been a blessing. That doesn’t mean that our life together has always been easy. There have been plenty of ups and downs but it’s been one helluva ride!

I think that we’ve laughed nearly everyday of our married life (sometimes through tears). Deb has made me the man that I always wanted to be and given me the freedom and the encouragement to accomplish things that I wouldn’t have even considered without her love and support. Conversely I’ve tried to let Deb follow her dreams, too. And she’s allowed me to come along on that journey.

Paris in AprilWe’ve raised three kids, had multiple careers, lived on two continents, and traveled the world together. We’ve had grand moments and enjoyed simple pleasures. We’ve worked hard; played hard and tried to keep Christ in the center of our lives. Those of you that know Deb, know that she is the heart of our family; that friendships are lifelong; that her word is her bond; and that I’m the luckiest man on earth.

Lots of people love Debbie. And her love for others is boundless. But somehow God decided that I was the one who got to share this life with her. Through the good and bad; through the joys and sorrows; I’ve had this beautiful hand to hold. And I’ll never let go.

On this day (a few years ago) she was born and today seemed like a good day for me to tell her that I love this life we share. Heaven can wait – we’re still having too much fun right here.

Happy Birthday Deb. I love you!

Denis

A World of Brothers and Sisters

At the World Youth Day in Brazil, Pope Francis asked young people to “create a world of brothers and sisters.” He also visited one of Rio’s notorious favelas (slums) to call attention to the poor, disenfranchised and marginalized.

What a message for our youth today: Love all people as a brother or sister and stop chasing material happiness to the detriment of those with less.

Pretty counter-cultural stuff. Do we as the parents and grandparents of today’s youth support these ideals? Do we show our love for our enemies by our words and actions? Do we support global justice? Where do we stand on immigration reform? These are not easy questions to answer. Who amongst us wants less for our own children? Isn’t the American Dream a set of ideals in which freedom includes the opportunity for prosperity and success, and an upward mobility? But should our personal success and upward mobility be at the expense of our brothers and sisters? As Christians shouldn’t we have a preference for the poor? Francis gives us much to ponder.

It’s hard sometimes to think globally. It’s too big. Too distant. It’s too removed from my world. It’s easy to dismiss Darfur or Egypt or the slums of Rio. But what about my brothers and sisters in my own community?

Recently two failing school districts in Saint Louis have requested help from other districts, one being the district in which I reside. Because these failing districts have lost their accreditation students graduating from their high schools find acceptance at colleges and universities nearly impossible. There is a myriad of reasons for these failures but mostly it is economic and poor kids are suffering. So while the Pope is imploring our youth to reach out to those in need; to create a world of brothers and sisters, some Christians in my community are fighting to keep these “unwanted students” out of our schools. There are concerns about property values, violence and drugs entering our school systems. This matter is further complicated by the fact that these two predominately black districts have requested help from two predominately white districts.

I understand and appreciate concerns for the safety of our children. I also realize that these are complex issues that the local media has reduced to sound-bites. But how can we foster “a world of brothers and sisters” across the ocean when we can’t peacefully and lovingly accept those brothers and sisters across the river? What would Jesus do?

I think that Francis is telling us. And I suspect that more prayer will be required…

Peace,

Denis

Nearly a Near Death Experience

For several years now we have vacationed on the Gulf of Mexico in Florida with our daughter, son-in-law and grandkids. Last week was our week on the beach. The first full day it rained – all day! So when the sun came up on day two, we were ready to have some fun. Because of the storms from the previous week and the subsequent strong waves and rip tides, red caution flags were flying. My daughter and I were undaunted. We would ride the waves but do it cautiously. After a few minutes in the water it became apparent that we were too far from shore. It all happened very quickly.

My daughter Bess abandoned her flotation device (actually just a swimming pool floatee) and swam toward the beach. As I watched her make it safely to shore the waves pushed me further and further out to sea. I considered leaving my floatee and swimming but by then I was in very deep water and after fighting the waves felt too weak to swim. I held on to my floatee.

So much to live for...

So much to live for…

While I was being submerged by capsizing waves and being pulled by the undertow I came to the realization that I might not make it. My son-in-law swam out to attempt a rescue but the waves were too strong for him (and he’s a strong guy). Again I thought – I MIGHT NOT MAKE IT. I never felt panicky just tired and a little dizzy. I came to the conclusion that drowning wouldn’t be painful – I would probably just doze off and slip into the water – THE END. As each gulp of salt water came more and more frequently it was clear that this was bad – really bad. But I wasn’t ready to die. So I paddled with my arms and kicked with my feet and hugged my floatee for dear life. DEAR LIFE.

After what seemed like hours but was really more like forty-five minutes, through luck and nature’s grace, I finally fought the under tow and came close to shore. A kind stranger came out to help me in the last 20 feet or so. My family met me on the beach with cheers and tears and swears and I collapsed in a heap.

I joked that I wouldn’t need salt on my afternoon margarita and tried to downplay the entire episode. I apologized to my wife Deb who had “told me so”. And I promised to NEVER be so careless in the water again. And I silently thanked God for the grace of allowing me more time.

I don’t know how close my “close call” actually was but it was close enough. Of course I was in the water the next day and several more days after that but only when the red flags were not flying. I’m not afraid to die but I’d rather live (there’s so much to live for!)

Oh, did I mention I saw a shark in the water, too?

Peace,

Denis

Pecking Order

Recently when our  two younger grandkids were at the house I walked in and playfully shouted, “Look! It’s Monkey One and Monkey Two!” Anna, who is 2-1/2 years older than Noah, immediately informed me that she is Monkey One. I laughed at the time but I realized how important it is for her to know (and remind all others) that she is first in all things. Little brother, although loved, is always second. Let there be no mistake about it: she is Monkey One.

From left to right: Monkey Two, Monkey One

From left to right:
Monkey Two, Monkey One

This little episode got me thinking about how much importance we place on position, title and hierarchy in our world. And how little it really matters in the grand scheme of things. But we love our titles, whether earned or honorary. In a country with no monarchy we still pay deference to the chief, the bishop, the doctor, the professor, the maestro.

We love to rank people according to their (perceived) worth: Executives, Management, Support Staff, Hourly Workers, Temporary Labor. It’s not enough that people are paid well (or not) but they must also have a title that befits their status in society. I know folks that would take a pay-cut for the right job title. I suppose inside some of us live five year-olds who desperately still need to be “Monkey One”.

The people that I most admire are those individuals who are secure enough that titles really become secondary to the life that they live. I knew a priest that scoffed at the idea of one day possibly being elevated to monsignor (an honorary designation). He said Jesus was called teacher; not priest, bishop or pope. This humble priest would be honored to be remembered as a teacher. Dignity doesn’t come from titles or where we finish in the race or how many votes we get or how much money we make. Dignity is given to us from God.

And I believe that we abuse that gift when we spend too much time comparing ourselves to one another. At times it is extremely hard to love and value the unlovable and unworthy (especially when I’m looking in the mirror). But isn’t that exactly what we are called to do? I struggle every day to follow Jesus’ instruction to love another.

And it’s especially hard to do when I’m judging everyone else’s place at the table…

Peace,

Denis

Looking For God In All The Wrong Places

Recently my five year-old granddaughter Anna decided that God is probably a man because “God is kind of a boyish sounding name”. She also remembered that in her Children’s Bible, God is referred to as Jesus’ father and because fathers are men God must be a man, too. I suppose we’ll deal with the Holy Spirit’s sexuality later.

Such is the need for concrete theology when you’re five years old. Anna needs black and white answers. And I get that. But what about adults? Why are so of us many hung up on the minutia? Why is the rule book so important? Why do we try to put God in a box. Why is it necessary to humanize the divine? Why does it seem that we must always make God small enough to fit in our limited view of life? And where do we find God? In the clouds? In our churches?

Lately I have realized that I’ve been looking for God in all the wrong places. Or at least I’m not looking EVERYWHERE. Or in EVERYONE. Thus I limit God. I suppose that there’s a little five year-old inside me that wants (needs) God to be a man and wants (needs) God to be up in heaven at the controls. That would be easier in so many ways. It’s comforting to think that I can just tuck God away for safekeeping. To be pulled out and dusted off when I need God. Of course we ask for God’s help and mercy during tragic times. Often it’s hard to find God in catastrophic events like the tornado this week in Oklahoma. Where are you God? If you are truly omnipotent, then please make the bad stuff stop!

Blog photoBut I believe that God’s hands are at work in pulling survivors from the rubble. I believe that God is in those who are comforting the mourning and bringing relief to the suffering. And I keep finding God in people who fill my life with love and joy.

Mostly I find God in my wife’s touch, in my children’s voices, and in my grandchildren’s laughter. God is present in the Eucharist but also present in my friends and my neighbors and the clerk at the local market and in my co-workers. It just takes a little focus (prayer) sometimes to see Him/Her.

So church is fine and clouds are beautiful and nature is awesome but I don’t find God there as often as I’d like (should?). God is here with me. And you. Next door. Down the hall. Just around the bend. God refuses to be limited by my human constraints and I keep reminding myself that God is not distant. I am.

Peace,

Denis

Reconciliation From Within

In search of spiritual nourishment, I have recently inquired about joining a lay partnership of a religious order. This is a daunting task: the unholy (me) joining in prayer and mission with the holy (The Sisters of the Most Precious Blood).

The Sisters’ mission sounds simple: To live the charism of reconciliation in their daily lives, work and ministry. But it sounds overwhelming when I try to insert myself into this equation: To live the charism of reconciliation in MY daily life. What does that mean?

Charism is defined by Webster’s as an extraordinary power given a Christian by the Holy Spirit for the good of the church. And reconciliation is defined as the act of causing two people or groups to become friendly again after an argument or disagreement. Or the process of finding a way to make two different ideas, facts, etc., exist or be true at the same time.

This is hard to wrap my head (and heart) around. How can I bring peace to others when I’m often not at peace with myself? And then I re-read the mission statement. The charism (power given by the Holy Spirit) of reconciliation (finding a way to make two different ideas true at the same time). I re-read it again and again. And finally it hits me: this mission statement is both simple and profound; two different ideas but the same in this mission.

reconciliationNow for the practical applications: Judge less; love more. Exploit less; care more. Take less; give more. Worry less; pray more.

I’m going to pray that God will guide me as I discern whether or not to join the Sisters as a lay Partner in Mission. I struggle at times with the arch-conservatives in my Church. I often question the hierarchy. I see a lot of un-loving behavior. So I’m praying that I find a way a to make two different ideas, facts, etc., exist or be true at the same time. And of course my peace will be found in the Holy Spirit.

My two year-old grandson Noah often says at mass, “More Alleluia!” because he loves the music.  I suppose we could all use more Alleluia. I know I could.

Peace,

Denis