Thankful

Yesterday our granddaughter Anna brought home a worksheet from Kindergarten. It had a picture of pumpkins and a turkey which she carefully colored and a ‘fill-in-the-blank’ that stated:

thanful for NoahNoah is Anna’s 3-year-old little brother. At times he can be a pest. He will sometimes destroy a work of art or un-puzzle a puzzle or disrupt a tea party or throw a baby doll across the room or otherwise torment her. His behavior will likely produce a shrill “Noah!” But Anna loves Noah and Noah loves Anna. And she readily forgives him.

This love that they share is fostered in the love that their parents have for one another. Caring for each other is what my daughter and son-in-law do; it’s what my son and daughter-in-law do; what they model; what they teach. And the lesson is being learned. Loving parents create loving children. And somehow I think that Deb and I started this love fest.

I am thankful, too! Not just for Anna and Noah but for parents that are teaching their children to love one another. Thankful for forgiveness and second chances. Thankful for constant reminders that this life is precious, and we are gifts to one another. Thankful that childish squabbles and petty differences can be resolved when we remember that our love for one another triumphs over all. Thankful that anger and resentment will cease when we forgive those who have wronged us (and when we forgive ourselves, too).

I am humbled by the profound and simple love that Anna and Noah share. For me they reflect God’s grace and beauty. To me they are examples of what is to come in heaven.

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Love! Joy! Peace!

The challenge for me of course is loving and forgiving my brothers and sisters. Not just my siblings – that’s easy. But this belief in God is troublesome. If we are all God’s children, then we are all sisters and brothers. Ugh! That means that I have to love and forgive all the jerks and losers in my life. Not only that, but I have to love and forgive all the jerks and losers in all of creation! I suppose I could begin by not referring to them as jerks and losers. And of course, I desperately need to receive some love and forgiveness, too.

So, this Thanksgiving I will thank God for the honor of witnessing the love between a five-year-old sister and her three-year-old brother. I’ll try to learn from their beautiful example and attempt to be thankful for EVERYONE. And I will thank God for the forgiveness received when I mostly fail. I suppose I might learn to love someone previously deemed unworthy of my affection. Or better yet I might be loved by someone who finds me unlovable.

I’m happy to take my miracles in small doses…

Peace,

Denis

Half-way There

When our kids were young and we took car trips, inevitably the question would arise, “Are we almost there?” Sometimes this would happen 30 minutes into an 8-hour drive. “Are we almost there?”

family carI learned after several trips to reply, “We’re about half-way there.” Regardless of where we were on the trip, my response would always be, “We’re about half-way.” Of course as the kids got older (and wiser) they understood that my ‘half-way’ might have meant that we still had lots of travel or that perhaps (hopefully) we were near our arrival. Now that my children are adults we laugh about my ‘half-way’ response to the often-asked “Are we almost there?”

Half-way. It’s hopeful because you realize that a lot of territory has been covered and it’s prudential because you know there’s still a significant way to go. Half-way. It’s  cautiously optimistic. And it always reassured our little travelers (and sometimes their beleagured parents, too) that we were well on our way (even when we weren’t).

Half-way can be a good place to be. In many ways I feel that I am half-way in my life. Not young. Not old (not really old anyway). And lately I realize that I’m half-way in my spiritual life, too. I’m not yet where I want to be. I’m not yet where I need to be. And of course I’ve taken lots of detours. But I’m hopeful because I’ve covered a lot of ground on my journey even though I still have a long way to go. So I’m cautiously optimistic.

I pray. I hope. I love. I try. And then I pray some more. And often the mile-markers on my trip, in the form of friends and family along my way, reassure me that I’m on the right path. The glimpses of heaven along my way can be found in the love of those who share this trip with me. “Am I almost there?” I don’t think so.

But right now I’m happy to be half-way (wherever that may be). Love and prayers will hopefully keep me on the right path for the rest of my journey.

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

Man Cannot Live By Bread Alone…

Man cannot live by bread alone, or so the story goes. And of course it’s a metaphor for life but I love bread. And with a glass of wine, I’d be just fine. I love all bread (and if rice and pasta count) then my life is complete. I love Italian bread and French baguettes and Indian naan and New York bagels and big yeasty rolls and pita and biscuits and hard rolls and well, you get the idea. I LOVE BREAD.

bread-collageYears ago when we were in France with our family having lunch at a little outdoor café, there was a small (very small) basket of bread at my place. We were enjoying our meal and then someone asked if there was any more bread. I had eaten all of mine. It was then that I realized no one else had been given a basket of bread – because THE BASKET was for the entire table. Apparently the French are very stingy with their bread (others at our table thought that I had eaten more than my share but they were wrong).

My grandkids are big bread-eaters, too. I encourage this. I wish that there were more bakeries. I would like to see a campaign for bread like those milk ads of recent history. With athletes and celebrities shoving there faces into some doughy confection and extolling it’s virtue with a “Got Bread?” tagline. Nothing is better than a warm, crusty roll fresh out of the oven. Nothing smells better than bread baking. Nothing brings the same comfort as bread and butter. One of the joys of living in England last year was the multitude of bakeries near our village. We had fresh bread nearly everyday. And cheese – glorious cheese! Bread was always a part of each meal at our table and sometimes bread alone would have been enough (with the aforementioned glass of wine).

So why can’t we live on bread alone? Because we need butter, too. And wine. Even Jesus needed bread and wine. Metaphorically speaking we also need more than just bread. We need diversity. We need choices. Life would be boring if everyone was the same; if everyday was like the day before. I believe that the messiness of life provides the ‘flavor’. The uncertainty of life can be challenging at times  but it can also whet our appetite for more: more adventure; more opportunity; more joy; more love.

So I suppose as much as I love bread I still can’t live on it alone (or that I would want to) but I think that I could live on bread and wine and cheese and chocolate. Oh, and don’t forget bacon! Man might be able to live on bacon alone. But then again…

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

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

Cuidad de Mexico Sin Mi Amor (Mexico City Without My Love)

It probably sounds cliche but what I enjoyed most about living last year in England was being there with my wife.

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Today I’m leaving Mexico City on a trip that was mostly business but after 15 or 20 visits to Mexico (I’ve lost count) I finally visited the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Although the churches are beautiful – actually three – old, newer, and newest – and the rest of the gardens and plaza are amazing it was a bit of an empty experience without Deb. Such is the life of a traveling business person in love with their spouse.

Still in love after all of these years!

We’ll get to Mexico City together but until then I’ll have the memories of London, Edinburgh, Rome, Paris, and Madrid. And truth be told my best times with my wife are the days that are ordinary. Those days in which time seems to stand still; those days that are golden just because we can afford to waste time (which is never really a waste when we’re together).

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So today I was privileged to tread the steps of Juan Diego who in 1531 spoke with the Virgin Mary and witnessed the miracle that Mexicans still honor today. But while walking this holy place I was keenly aware of another miracle that happened in 1973 – Debbie loved Denis!

I’m headed home tonight. And after 40 years the miracle continues.

Peace,

Denis