God

Raised Up

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

I’ll admit it. Lately I’m running a little low on patience, compassion, and empathy. So much seems to be so wrong. Good friends battling serious health issues. Government shutdown. The Golden Ballroom. Epstein Files. Families struggling to feed themselves. Plus waiting on hold for “customer service” from a robot. Leaves piling up outside. Spam calls. Dreaded self-checkouts. Leaking dishwasher. And that kid down the street who drives too fast.

I know in my heart that sadness, anger and bitterness only serve to drain the spirit from my life. Being justified in my outrage is not worth the loss of love that I will be denied by my own stubbornness or self-righteousness. Still, sometimes it feels so good to feel so angry. What the heck, God?

I try hard not to be a curmudgeon but at times it feels as if the cards have been stacked against me. My prayers seem to go unanswered. I’m tired of giving others the benefit of the doubt – because I doubt that they deserve it. So, I yell at the cable news anchors, groan with every new spam call, bitch at the self-checkout thingy (because I don’t know how to scan properly, I suppose) and I shake my fist at that hoodlum down the street while I curse him under my breath as I’m raking leaves (again). Slow down you maniac!!!

As often happens in my life, a miracle occurs. Just when my outrage and disgust with mankind seems completely justified, I am confronted with the love of others. Somehow, I am carried along by good news, good fortune, and goodwill.

We were honored to watch our teenage granddaughter direct her first school play. Her joy was contagious, and my pride was overwhelming. While doing fall cleanup in our gardens, I noticed the neighbor next door was playing with her two young daughters in a pile of leaves. The delight of their giggles warmed my stone-cold heart. Later I learned that my fifteen-year-old grandson was on a retreat weekend with his faith community which restores my soul. I connected with my cousin to plan a small reunion (of sorts) which will include lots of laughs and shared memories. Our younger granddaughters were delighted with a little early Christmas surprise. Who knew that something so small could be such a big hit? I received the joyful news that a baby was born. Friends that I’ve come to know from church were blessed with a healthy baby boy. I’m told that two-year-old big sister is “over the moon”. And so am I.

God is good. Sometimes I just need a ‘kick in the pants’ or a gentle nudge to be reminded that I am carried along on this journey of life by the love of others. And in the grand scheme of things, when I take their hands, I am blessed beyond my dreams.

Peace,

Denis

A Tale of No Tail

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

We have a squirrel living in our garden who has no tail. Of course, as a mere human I have anthropomorphized him. I call him Stubby. Not a particularly clever name but, it definitely fits his situation. Stubby seems undaunted by his lack of tail. He climbs trees. He frantically buries acorns. As he is happily scampering across our lawn, I wonder if he is he aware of his disability? Do the other squirrels shun him? Will he become a hero like that red-nosed reindeer? He seems to like our backyard. He lives in our big live oak tree. We’ve become (sort of) friends.

I’ve read a bit about tailless squirrels. Squirrels may be born tailless or lose their tails to injury; although this affects survival, many adapt and thrive regardless. I hope that Stubby can beat the odds and thrive. Mostly I hope he comes back and digs up all those acorns so that I don’t have a bunch of little oak trees sprouting up in our garden next Spring. I’m pulling for the little fellow. He likely won’t attract a mate because he can’t do that tail shaking move that all the female squirrels seem unable to resist. He’ll probably remain a bachelor. Maybe he’ll be the fun uncle. I just hope he survives the winter. Being different needn’t define him.

Watching Stubby dart across our lawn and strain to climb our tree, I can’t help but think about my own challenges. How often have I struggled with physical limitations? How many times have I accepted defeat and not even tried something new out of fear? What if it is too hard? What if I fail? Worse yet, what if I’m singled out for not “fitting in”?

Some of my disabilities are physical, a few are emotional, and many of mine are spiritual. Many people I know are steadfast and confident in their faith. Many people I know have the assurance of God in their daily lives. Many people I know never question their belief. But I’m different. I sometimes struggle with the self-righteousness and hypocrisy of others. I often struggle with church hierarchy and their silence in the face of social evil. Sometimes in the midst of the cruelty and unkindness of this world I wonder if God is paying attention. And I struggle with my own prayer life at times. My prayers can seem futile. I feel empty, lost and alone.

Faith in God is not easy. What is easy is to explain away all of my hardships and struggles and sadness as random acts in a world full of chaos. What is easy is to accept that some folks will always have better luck/money/position than me. What is hard is to find solace in times of sorrow and desperation in a God who at times feels very distant. Sometimes it’s challenging to find joy in others’ happiness when I am feeling overwhelmed with my own difficulties. But this is the essence of faith. I learned a long time ago through trial and error to stop looking for God in the stars. To stop praying to the clouds. God is in my friends. God is in my family. And when I look deeply (this is the really hard part) I can find God in me.

So, maybe I’m different. But that needn’t define me.

Peace,

Denis

Grace For the Trials

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It’s hard to find grace these days. There is so much anger in our world. Our nation’s politics have become poisonous. So much cruelty inflicted on innocent people. So much hate in the name of righteousness. I often feel desperate and frightened. I fear for my grandchildren and what the future holds for them.

Our congressman just stated on the House Floor, referring to his fellow citizens across the aisle: “they literally will kill those with whom they disagree, just as their predecessors—leftists Marx, and Stalin, and Lenin, and Pol Pot, and Fidel Castro—did.” He was ratcheting up more hate and distrust between our political parties instead of representing the people in his district. Apparently, Bob Onder, a self-proclaimed Pro-Life Catholic has shamefully chosen ugly rhetoric instead of bipartisanship. So much for respecting all life as sacred. Sadly, we have a president who behaves likes a petulant child. I suppose our congressman is doing his best to emulate Trump’s behavior.

On these worst days I become cynical and morose. I throw my hands in the air and exclaim WTF!

But then I encounter the angels in my life. And I realize that I am not alone in my pain and worry and despondency. Last night while watching a particularly sappy moment in a movie my wife reached out and held my hand. That touch restored my soul once again. I was reminded of a poem that she shared with me 50 years ago. I have returned to it many times in the ensuing years.

Help from above; unfailing sympathy; undying love. Being afraid, crying out in pain, needn’t be a sign of weakness but of surrender. This week Pope Leo addressed a crowd at St. Peter’s Square with these words:

“Jesus teaches us not to be afraid to cry out, as long as it is sincere and humble. A cry is never pointless if it is born of love, and it is never ignored if it is delivered to God. It is a way to not give in to cynicism, to continue to believe that another world is possible.”

So, instead of wringing my hands and cursing the future. I will hope for a better day and pray for the courage to hold on until it arrives. And I will remember that there is no justice without compassion, no joy without sorrow, no peace without pain. So, bring on the rain!

Peace,

Denis

Bloom Again

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

As an amateur gardener (okay, a goofball who can’t distinguish most flowers from weeds) I recently dead-headed our drift roses in an attempt to have them bloom again. It worked. Then my son-in-law recommended doing the same to our cannas. Success – new blooms! Nature (God) has a way of bringing new life where it was once lost.

I was thinking about times when I have “bloomed again”. Usually, it’s after some disappointment or heartbreak. Things seems bleak and I feel lost but somehow through “pruning” and a little self-care, I find the sun and the nutrients, and my life is renewed. Still the process is often painful.

I worked for the same company for over 20 years. I rose through the ranks beginning as a Project Manager and was promoted to Senior Project Manager, then Operations Manager and finally the Senior Vice President of Operations for North America and Europe. Sounds pretty impressive, doesn’t it? Well, that all came crashing down when the President of our division came into my office one afternoon and closed the door. Our company had recently been acquired by a larger firm and as my boss put it so succinctly, “I don’t want you to get caught flat-footed.” Restructuring – that dirty word that meant someone in our corporate offices was looking to cut positions and salaries, probably to boost their own salary – had reared its ugly head. My boss’s advice: “Get your resume in order.” He didn’t say, “You’ve been a good friend, a confidant, a valued member of my team and I’m fighting to keep you”. It was pretty obvious that he was looking to save his own skin, and I was being considered collateral damage. I know all is fair in love and war, and I guess work, but when you’ve devoted yourself to an organization for two decades and you get treated like yesterday’s news it hurts (mainly my pride but there were major concerns about my finances, too).

The following week my boss came back into my office with a proposition. I could relocate to another division. As luck would have it, there was an opening for a Project Manager. The proposal: commute 5-1/2 hours from home once or twice a month, accept a position as a Senior Project Manager and keep my V.P. salary (which either meant that the faceless corporate decision-makers were being benevolent, or I was being underpaid – I’m going with the later). Regardless, the paychecks kept coming, and I found a new team to work with who surpassed my expectations. We worked very well together and became the best team in the division. We truly liked one another. We turned around a struggling account. Within two years, I was once again promoted and was able to retire with dignity. But what I learned during my “pruning” was this: I already had dignity. The position, the office, the titles meant nothing compared to the relationships that I had with the people I worked with. I was afforded a chance to “bloom again” and I bloomed brighter and stronger than ever before. None of this was my own doing. The incredible people I worked with in my new assignment revitalized me. I could have remained resentful and bitter, but they carried me to a better place. I will be forever grateful for their professionalism, work ethic and kindness to the “old” new guy.

So, when you’re feeling stuck or think you’re done, don’t give up. When life deals you a blow, don’t lose hope. Prayer helps. So does the love of friends and family. Clip away your ego. Trim back your pride. Hold on to what is important. Remember with a little pruning you can bloom again.

I did. And so do my drift roses and cannas. God is good!

Peace,

Denis

Showing Up

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

When I was 10 years old my sister was born. I was the third son. So, a girl, after three boys and all those years was a cause for celebration. Back in those days, mothers were kept in the hospital for at least a week with their newborns. I was excited about the baby, but I missed my mom terribly. I admit I was a momma’s boy, and I hated it when folks would say, “well you’re not the baby of the family anymore!” or “I guess now you’ll be a little jealous of that baby sister”. For the record: I was never jealous of her, and I still love my sister more than life itself, but I missed Mom. I’m not sure if I had ever been apart from her until that week. To make matters worse, Dad didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Mom had always taken care of everything at home and Dad was ill-quipped to meet the needs of a ten-year-old boy.

Everything came to a head when Dad came home with dinner one evening. He had stopped at a deli and brought home braunschweiger on rye bread, sauerkraut, three-bean salad, and pickled beets. I was horrified. I refused to eat. Dad shouted that the food was perfectly good, and I screamed that I wanted Mom and promptly ran away from home. I was halfway to Boschert Creek by the time my 17-year-old brother Dave caught up with me. I was prepared to drown myself or at least ruin my clothes trying. But Dave showed up and we sat down and talked it out. He knew that I missed Mom. And in his seventeen-year-old wisdom he probably understood that a recently displaced ‘baby of the family’ was struggling to make sense of it all. He assured me that Dad wasn’t being cruel, just obtuse. In the mid-sixties people didn’t care much about kids’ feelings. But Dave did. He might have even taken me to ‘Burger Chef’ or some other exotic teenage hangout for dinner that night. He rescued me from drowning or at least destroying the clothes hamper. Most importantly, he was present. He showed up then, and he has shown up countless times in my life.

I think about the times that I have tried to ‘show up’, for others. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been as heroic as Dave, but I try. I think of all the times I have asked (or been asked) “how are you?”, not really wanting a response beyond “fine”. What if I actually took the time to listen? That’s where things get messy. It requires patience, understanding, and attention, and I often find those traits in short supply. Fortunately, I am part of community of believers who meet regularly for spiritual guidance and renewal. We routinely show up for one another. Taking the time to hold a hand, listen, and truly be present for someone else, I have learned, that being present, is a gift that I can freely give. It doesn’t require great wisdom or grand gestures. It doesn’t require massive resources or advanced degrees in theology or psychotherapy. Just ‘show up’. If a knucklehead like me can offer comfort, share joy, and give hope, I’m sure you can too.

And remember to thank God for all the ‘show-er up-ers‘ in your life.

In her book, Almost Everything, Anne Lamott writes, “We remember the mustard seeds. That the littlest things will have great results. We do the smallest, realest, most human things. We water that which is dry.”

Friends, there is a lot of desert out there, but if we each water just a little…

Peace,

Denis

Mercy

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Social Media. Cable News Networks. Talk Radio. Podcasts. The constant barrage of hate being spewed out has left me feeling numb at times. I am often overwhelmed by the vitriol and hatred of so many in our society. More disturbing is the apparent lack of concern by so many others. We seem to stand idly by while cruelty is being parsed out on a daily basis by our political leaders. Perhaps their goal is that we become emotionally unresponsive or indifferent. Then the lack of common decency goes unnoticed. Then the inhumanity becomes commonplace. Then there is no shock; no outrage; no need for concern.

Why doesn’t my senator oppose the way immigrants are being terrorized? Why doesn’t my congressman stand up for those being marginalized? Why do I expect those in power to make a positive change?

Yesterday, my parish priest spoke of Saint Peter’s faith and trust. Peter’s life is a reminder that Christ doesn’t call the perfect – He perfects those he calls. Dang it! I keep hoping that someone else will swoop in and fix everything. I keep waiting for someone in power to “do the right thing”. I keep looking for someone out there to speak truth to power. Yesterday I was reminded to look in the mirror.

So, what to do? What to do?

If I want reconciliation in my life, in my neighborhood, in my town, and in my country. I need to be THE ONE. I need to be the one to stop judging. I need to be the one to stop hating. I need to be one to stop waiting. It needs to be me who stands up and speaks up now. I need to be the one who shows mercy to others and begs God for mercy for myself.

Prayer helps. Peaceful action is required. Kindness can always be given freely. Holding a hand, mending a broken heart, offering a shoulder to lean on, listening to others – none of these things require great power. It doesn’t require bravery or bravado. It only requires surrender and faith and love for the least amongst us.

Peace (and mercy),

Denis

For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me. Matthew 25:35-36

Back Home

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

For years my career involved travel. There were the times when we relocated, and I would be in the “new place” while my wife and the kids would stay behind until we could get settled. And there were the times when my job required that I be at a customer’s jobsite during construction or at a factory or somewhere giving a presentation. I loved my job, and our situation was not unique in my industry, so we always made the best of it. Still, there were many times I would get road weary. And likely more times when my wife just needed me home.

The toughest part was leaving behind our three kiddos. Missing nighttime rituals and bedtime prayers and having to hear about school achievements and challenges over the phone was far from ideal. Not making it home in time for a game or a performance was devastating and yet somehow, we survived. I still have a memory burned into my soul of our youngest standing on the front porch as I drove away. The sunlight made his blonde hair shimmer, and I thought his little arm might fall off from the vigorous waving. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t take my eyes off of the rearview mirror until he was just a dot in the distance. So much for grown men not crying.

After the kids were grown and on their own, travel was less challenging but no less tedious. I wasn’t missing games and concerts and plays but I still missed their calls home or their surprise visits, and I desperately missed my wife. Even the beautiful places that I visited felt empty without her by my side. Later in my career, my wife and I could occasionally travel together, and it was sublime.

But the love was always there even if I couldn’t be. The sad goodbyes were soothed by the many happy returns. I realize now that my travel was in many ways a blessing. We didn’t take one another for granted. We cherish our time together. We have learned to make the best of each day we share together. Our children grew up to be confident, brave, independent persons who are not afraid to try new things, live in new places and never fail to say “I love you” at the end of each phone call or visit. My grown children are not ashamed to hug and kiss me. My wife has been a model of love for them, and I am the lucky recipient of all that affection. God has been good to me.

It is written that “Home is where the heart is”. I know this is true. No matter where we have called home it has always been filled with love, grace, blessing and joy.

In my mind’s eye, I still sometimes see my sweet boy waving goodbye on that front porch all those years ago. Now I get to turn that car around and scoop him up in my arms and come back home.

Peace,

Denis

Color Blindness

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Red-green color blindness, also known as deuteranopia, is the most common type of color vision deficiency. It affects roughly 8 percent of the world’s population. It occurs when a person has an impairment in red cone or green cone pigment perception. People with this condition tend to confuse purple, blue, green, orange, and red.

Color blindness is hereditary. It is passed from a color-blind father to his daughter who becomes a carrier of the genetic material but not color blind herself. She then has a 50 percent chance of passing the genes to her son. Females can be born color blind as well, but it requires a color-blind father and mother who is a carrier and the percentages of carrying to the child are greatly reduced. Therefore, deuteranopia predominately affects males.

I am color blind. And so is my grandson.

Most of my life, especially in my career, I have kept my color blindness a secret. In architectural millwork it’s not helpful for your client to realize that you have no idea what color the finishes are that you are presenting to them for approval. When asked my personal opinion, I would usually say something like, “I agree with you, it does look a little too mauve” then make copious notes to share with my staff who could interpret what the hell mauve might be. All the while my heart would be racing knowing that I couldn’t actually pick up a red ball in a green lawn to save my soul. Did my fraudulent confidence conceal my deceit? Seems to have worked.

My color blindness is more of an inconvenience than a disability. I have a loving wife who helps dress me and decorates our home. I have developed coping skills (red is always at the top of traffic lights). Blue is my favorite color because it is one that I see well. Not so sure about aqua, turquoise, periwinkle or lavender. Turns out those aren’t really blue. A fun game is when someone asks, “What does green look like to you?” My response: “I only see what I see.”

Lately I have been wondering if I am blind about things that have nothing to do with color. Do I “only see what I see”? Do I turn a blind eye to the suffering of others? Do I ignore those who are discriminated and disenfranchised? Have I developed coping skills that allow me to ignore the evil and chaos in my own community? Do I allow my fraudulent confidence to conceal my deceit?

I am an associate member of a lay community of religious Sisters. We are Partners in Mission. We proclaim to be working for peace and reconciliation in our families, communities, country and world. Often, I fall short of that goal. I judge without knowing the circumstance of others. I condemn without understanding the hardships they might be suffering.

Recently, I have been blessed with some opportunities to ‘see true colors more clearly’. My granddaughter is volunteering at a food pantry. I have had the joy of joining her on a few occasions. Watching her loving devotion to the clients she serves has humbled me and reminded me that God works through all of us. God can even use me, if I open my eyes and my heart.

I attended a peaceful “Hands-off” rally where concerned citizens joined together to voice our protest against current administration policies. Most of the passersby were supportive but some, who could have easily ignored us, decided to offer hand gestures and obscenities. I was encouraged to see that democracy is still alive. And I realize that those individuals are entitled to express their opinions as well.

My grandson was awarded a scholarship to the high school he will be attending this fall. He was awarded the Outstanding Service Scholarship for his volunteerism to his community. I suppose he is ‘seeing true colors more clearly’ too.

When Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost stepped onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica as the new Pope Leo XIV, he said “Peace be with you all! Dear brothers and sisters, these are the first words spoken by the risen Christ, the Good Shepherd who laid down His life for God’s flock. I would like this greeting of peace to resound in your hearts, in your families, among all people, wherever they may be, in every nation and throughout the world. Peace be with you!“

I am living with my color blindness and praying to see the true colors in others more clearly.

Peace,

Denis

Fire!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Last week I had the honor and joy of being my grandson’s Confirmation sponsor. Standing in that magnificent Cathedral with my arm on his shoulder I was overwhelmed by the gift of Noah’s presence in my life. They say that at death, your life flashes before your eyes, at that moment I felt his life flashing before my eyes – holding him as an infant, playing with him as a toddler, cheering him on as a student and an athlete, watching him grow from a boy into a young man. I have been blessed with a front row seat in witnessing this beautiful life. I must admit as the Chrism Oil flowed down his forehead, I could feel a tear escape and touch my cheek. My boy. My man. My God!

While preparing for Confirmation, we had an opportunity to attend a gathering together at his parish church. There were several presentations that evening and his teacher spoke of how the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles. She challenged us to think beyond the simple flame atop their heads pictured in religious art and instead she suggested, “It was more like, FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!” The Apostles were on fire with the Spirit! Her shouting and animated reenactment left us chuckling, but it also left an impression. Noah would be changed. And that change would require action.

Lately I have been saddened by the state of our government and have felt desperate. I fear the future. I watch in anguish at the mistreatment of immigrants, minorities, the poor and marginalized in our society and even more so at the delight by some politicians and fellow citizens in the cruelty being appropriated. It is beyond my comprehension, that so many could be filled with so much hate. Where is love? Where is hope? Where is God? I realize that I need to stop waiting for God to “fix things”. I need to use my voice, my actions, my love, my influence for good. I need to bring the “FIRE“.

In her book Seasons of Your Heart, Macrina Wiederkehr writes, “If you’re wondering what Easter really is – it is despair moving over to make room for hope. It is joy suddenly crowding out your sorrow. It’s beautiful and real, and it’s intent on touching and healing all who are around us.”

Witnessing Noah’s Confirmation, I felt his joy crowding out my sorrow. His exuberance is beautiful and real, and he is healing me with his beautiful life. And I believe that together we can make a difference.

Peace,

Denis

Saying ‘Yes’ to ‘No’

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Recently there was a Medieval Fair in Oklahoma where my son and his family live. While driving past the fairgrounds our youngest granddaughter caught a glimpse of a sign that read, ‘Swords and Shields’ and declared that that was something she would love to have. Her hopes were dashed when my son said, “You are not getting a sword and shield!” Undeterred, she declared, “Looks like I’m going to have to take this into my own hands!” I’m not certain how an eight-year-old with no financial independence was going to manage purchasing the aforementioned sword and shield, but I admire her pluck. Personally, I would have honored her request, but I was reminded, once again, that parenthood requires discipline and denial.

Pondering Gwen’s resolve, I began thinking of the many times I have been denied and have remained silent. How often have I just accepted “no” as an answer? How often have I acquiesced to others’ policies and opinions? How many times have I witnessed fellow humans being dealt with unfairly but lacked the courage to speak up in order to ensure my own safety and privilege? How often have I chosen to “go along, to get along“?

It’s hard today to not become discouraged with our government and the chaos that we are being subjected to. Whether we are personally suffering or witnessing the suffering of those we love, our world is fraught with injustice. As Christians, we are all called to speak out against injustices when we see them and yet our pulpits often remain silent in the face of discrimination against immigrants, the disabled, minorities, elderly, and LGBTQ members of our society. Sometimes my frustration, hopelessness and anger are met with tears.

In his book, The Tears of Things, Richard Rohr writes, “Grief and sadness are doorways to understanding life in a non-egocentric way. Tears come from both awe and empathy, and they generate even deeper awe and deeper empathy in us. The sympathy that wells up when we weep can be life-changing, too, drawing us out of ourselves and into communion with those around us.”

So, I will let my tears fall but I also will stand up, speak up and say ‘yes’ to the naysayers. I will challenge the silent enablers. I still have a voice, a vote, a conscience, and a faith that tells me to care for the most vulnerable in our society. Gwen gives me courage. I’m taking things into my own hands. I will peacefully protest. I will continue to write to my senators and congressman. Most importantly, I won’t let my fears and tears keep me from speaking out against injustice.

As we enter Holy Week, let us remember that Jesus’ suffering and death is not in vain, instead, it is a profound expression of love for humanity. 

Peace,

Denis

She stood behind Jesus at his feet weeping and began to bathe his feet with her tears. Luke 7:38