A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I were talking and he mentioned something he had read or heard about the difficulties of understanding the various ways of expressing love. Some talk, some do. It seems I’m married to a “do-er” as it were. I’ve tried watching carefully for the past week of two to see if I can understand this. Interesting trial.
He does. He went to Walmart for something, and while there, hunted down a cable I needed for my iPod so that I could use it in the car — 2 cables, it turned out. In the past, he bought me a 12-string guitar for my birthday (one I had looked at, played and liked very much.) He calls on his way home from school (he’s a teacher so he’s off earlier than I) to see if there is anything needed at the store. There are more things that he does. Many more.
This is not my preferred communication method. It’s hard to see it. It requires work on my part to pay attention enough to see that this is his way of caring. I am much more in tune to to talking, sharing, emotion. That I understand that without so much work. But, I think this might be impossible for him.
This weekend the second reading for mass proclaims that love is the most important. Perhaps it is not only important to love, but also important to try to understand and accept the sometimes cryptic way others attempt to love us.
Tags: acceptance, caring, love
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I’m retiring — well, I retiring from my “day job” at Auburn. Not happening until the first of April, but it seems it’s happening. It is not lost on my friends that my first day as a retiree will be April Fool’s Day (and I have an 8 am dentist appointment, to boot.)
The questions begin: “What are you going to do?”
I have lots of answers ready at hand. I’m going to be able to go to the gym in the mornings! At 8, which might happen, instead of 5:30am, which is not happening. I’ll be able to head up the road to Birmingham to visit more often — this is important since the 3rd grandchild is scheduled to make his/her appearance in Birmingham the first of June. I’m planning on having more energy available for my second and third jobs — mostly web development for the Vincentian Family and anybody else who would like to compensate me for the work. I’d like to actually learn to speak and understand Spanish, make the Pilgrimage to San Juan Compostela, hike parts of the Appalachian trail, spend time with my granddaughters in Florida (and go the zoo – I love zoos!), make some quilts and visit my friends in NY.
Plans! We all have them. It remains to be seen how many of these will come to pass. Mostly, I hope to live well, grow in faith and appreciate the life I have.
Tags: hope, journey
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The other night my husband was watching one of the science channels. The show was about physics. Is light a particle? Or is light a wave? And the answer is “Yes.” I don’t understand the math or the physics beyond the simple idea that relativity and quantum physics are mathematically incompatible. I understand that understanding light fully will require a “third way” – and the candidate is string theory. Something that will make two incompatible explanations work…
Incompatible ideas, dreams and hopes seem to be a part of everyday human existence. Yesterday I saw it in myself again. I sat face to face with a dream or hope that seems so incompatible with my reality and other dreams and hopes I have. To follow one fully seems to require leaving the other behind. And yet, I find I must hold both within in me. Both are precious. I seek a “third way.”
I struggle to understand and to accept that things that I feel are in such conflict. I struggle to find a way through the narrow, twisty maze of passages that is my journey. I find a part of my answer in the second reading for mass this weekend. It’s that passage from i Corinthians 13 on Love that is used so often at weddings. We all know it: love is patient, love is kind… It’s then end of that passage that speaks to me:
Love never fails.
If there are prophecies, they will be brought to nothing;
if tongues, they will cease;
if knowledge, it will be brought to nothing.
For we know partially and we prophesy partially,
but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.
When I was a child, I used to talk as a child,
think as a child, reason as a child;
when I became a man, I put aside childish things.
At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror,
but then face to face.
At present I know partially;
then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.
So faith, hope, love remain, these three;
but the greatest of these is love.
It seems that Love is the glue that binds. Love is the “string theory” of life. Love is the way through the twisty little passages. Love will allow me a way to hold my conflicts within me and know that there is a way to be true to myself and my creator.
Now the mystery becomes Love. How do I begin to grasp that one?
Tags: conflict, discernment, love
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Time flies by and I fail to take the time to post. But, it’s raining, and I have just completed the formation weekend for the Women’s Cursillo to be held in March at Holy Trinity. And, I’ve had to take time to think and write, as I am giving a rollo (talk) on Action – apostolic action.
These talks present me with problems at times. I find myself on a different page of the book than the outline for the talk seems to come from. This time wasn’t so tough as the other talk I gave a few years ago. But, still — it pushes my comfort zone edges to do this. And, that is a fine thing to do.
Of late, I’ve taking actions that force me out of the comfort zone. I’ve put in the paper work to retire from the University, effective April 1. Now, that is stepping out of a zone that is familiar, if not always comfortable. After more than 25 years it will be quite a change. One that evokes both excitement and anxiety. I can set my own schedule. I can take on projects that I want. I can be free to visit my children and grandchildren. How will I keep myself from turning into a bon-bon eating couch potato? Can I find enough contract work to fill the gap between my current salary and my retirement “pension”? I look forward to the chance and the change. I fear that I will make a miserable mess of the whole thing.
That said, preparing the talk on action seems opportune. The Holy Spirit seems to know her business quite well. I am forced to wrap words around ideas. I am called to action, as it were. What I hear in my quiet time with God, what I learn from my reading and study, I must turn into action. If I sit with God, if I am present in my relationship with Jesus, then I must reflect what I learn, what I know, in my daily walk. Reaching out to others. Listening to those who need an ear. Allocating a part of my income to help a friend who is struggling and coming up with a whole lot more month than money. Sharing of myself to draw others in to prayer when I lead music at mass. Continuing to do my best at a job where I am truly a lame duck.
Stepping out of the comfort zone is scary — and invigorating. And, a call to action.
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I didn’t write yesterday because there might have been tears in my keyboard had I tried in the morning. Nothing so major in the grand scheme of things, I know. But, disappointment doesn’t always listen to reason.
We had thought that our granddaughters would be spending New Years with us. Yes, we saw them three weeks ago at the wedding. That was such fun despite the fact that there were so many people around that there wasn’t a lot on one-on-one time. I understood completely that it made a lot more sense not to put 2 preschoolers in the car for 9 hours to drive up to see us. Especially since they had only gotten in from a trip north to visit other family the day before. I understood and agreed. Really. I mean, I did. Really.
Still, the tears welled up. I came face to face with just how much I miss seeing them. Eight hours away is just too far, IMHO. They are growing up so fast. Yes – they are still young – 3 and 17 months. But, between times, they grow up so much.
The new year is beginning in a couple of hours… not exactly a resolution, but more a hope and a plan: to spend more time with them. To take the time to do it now. To be in the present. And to have that present include those I love most.
Tags: pre
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The priest at Christmas Eve mass struck a chord with me. He began by reflecting on the first men on the moon — seeing the earth “as it really is” from a distance. He spoke about them looking back at earth and seeing it as a distant, beautiful blue and green globe. He progressed to Bette Midler’s “From a Distance” with God watching us from a distance. The good in this view is that we can see that we are all so very alike — all so very human. But, he and I agree – Christmas proclaims a very different reality. God is with us. God is not watching from a distance.
God may very well be able to step back and get some distance. We humans all need to do that at times… get some distance. But, the reality is that God is with us. God is in the midst of the messiness of our lives. God is present in birth and death and every experience in between. God is present in the joy of a new child, the frustration of a father who is struggling to make a decent life for that child and in an inn keeper who is out of resources and doesn’t have room. God is so very present that he took on our flesh, walked in our bones, felt all of our emotions, loved up close.
Christmas reminds me of this. If God loves me enough to take on my form of existence and walk with me, then I am called to do the same with others — and not stay at a distance. That’s not really what I think of as easy — I do separate myself. I am unwilling to share all too often even with those I am physically close to.
Little Child — help me to be willing to live not at a distance from You or our brothers and sisters.
Oh – and Merry Christmas!
Tags: life, living, love
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The house is filled with smell of my cornbread dressing and my husbands pork dressing. It’s cooking day. We always have to have both the Southern and the French Canadian dressings. Is that a battle or a melding of cultures?
Through the years we’ve settled on certain things that have become our family traditions. Christmas Mass. Family gatherings. And, we must have both cornbread and pork dressings. If I have leftover turkey (a problem this year since we won’t be doing Christmas in our house) the leftovers from the pork dressing and turkey must be turned into pie. We’ve been through “traditional” roasted turkey, smoked turkey and deep-fried turkey – so that one is open for discussion even after 33 years… but it’s turkey – not pork roast, or beef roast. It may include duck — but only as an adjunct to turkey. I’ll miss having leftover turkey of my own. Something is missing.
As I think of Christmas, it becomes clear that Christmas is a joining of many things. The joining of God with humanity in the form of the Christ child. The joining of the Deep South with New England. And this year, with a new daughter in law, the joining of more families. And any piece that goes missing is just that: a small hole in the fabric of the season. Even if it’s just the missing leftover turkey.
Tags: Christmas
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As a church music minister/director, I suppose I’m going to have to deal with this new translation of the Roman Missal (for English) at some point. I’ve thus far kept my head in the sand, ostrich style — and hoped that the day of reckoning won’t happen or at least wait a good long time. But, today, I read up a bit on this.
Yuck!
OK — I see that some folks want to make mass and the Catholic religion more mysterious, more awesome, more magical. One thing that this makes me suspect is that these folks are hungry to experience the powerful, wonderful, awesome presence of God. Amen! But, it also seems to me, that while large, beautiful, magical churches and liturgy and evoke a sense of the power of God’s presence, it is even more powerful, awesome and enduring to experience the presence of God in my own heart and mind. In prayer — in quiet, open, honest prayer. Maybe this prayer is communal, but maybe it is that which is practiced individually on a regular basis. As when Elijah finally experienced God in the gentle, quiet after the storm, after the earthquake.
And so, I am not one who will rush toward these changes. I will probably run from them. I can always pray that somehow this foolishness is at least moderated somewhat…
But, most of all, I do ask God to continue to be present to me, no matter what.
Tags: mystery
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In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus tells us “…unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
I was thinking of this today as I was listening to music from the Mexican Baroque period. That led me to my experience of the celebrations of our Latino community in my parish. For the Feast of Guadalupe people dress in costumes. There is a lot of joy and playfulness mixed in with the deep devotion.
Or, I think of the young father who came forward at mass with his tiny daughter, bearing a box with the ashes of his recently deceased (29 year old) wife. He asked that they be placed on the altar so that the community could pray for her, for them during mass. Why he chose the english mass when he spoke only spanish, I’ll never know. It was unplanned – a surprise to everyone, even the priest who handled it beautifully.
It seems that we Americans, and western Europeans have grown old. We have cast away childlike trust. The widower trusted that his request, his need would be honored. This just wouldn’t have happened had he been a part of the much more reserved english speaking community. We want plans. We want protocol. We are not about to bare our souls to the community and ask for healing and help.
We are hesitant to dress up and play the parts in plays. Oh, that’s okay for a 5 year old. But, where has the playfulness and innocence and trust gone?
Lord, I hope that I can indeed become as a little child more often and therefore be open to Your love, Your care, Your joy. And, I ask you to help me to trust as a child trusts.
Tags: innocence, trust
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The other day at mass, I was zapped! I heard the words “This cup, this bread SHARED is the Body of Christ…” The emphasis is what I heard. And, I heard it a couple of other times. Zing!
I look at the Bread and Wine, the Body and Blood of Christ at mass. I am a part of the Body and Blood of Christ not only at mass but as I move through my days and nights. But, in those instances I see a glimmer through the dark. This Body, this Blood, this bread, this wine becomes a living creature when it is shared. The action of sharing gives it an even more animated life.
In that past week or two, Krista Tippet interviewed a woman who is a chaplain working with rescue workers. It is her task to be with not only the workers, but with those who are waiting and praying for someone to be found. And she is with those who get the bad news. There was a story told as a part of this interview. During a time of grief the doorbell rings. There stands a nicely dressed gentleman with religious tracts – “Have you heard the Gospel?” This earned a door slammed in his face. The next time the doorbell rang, it was a neighbor with a plate of brownies. “I thought you might be able to use these just now.” The storyteller is overwhelmed by the presence of Christ in the action of giving in time of need. The sharing at a very human level.
In my own life this weekend I watched in awe as some of my dear friends not only joined us to celebrate my son’s marriage, but openly shared their time and energy with my mother. They took part in the festivities — but they spent time visiting with Mama, who isn’t as mobile as she would like to be. They traveled from out of town, and helped in so many ways — handling a video camera, getting chairs for people, being family alongside those of us who are related by blood and marriage. They don’t even know, it seems, that to me, they were that active, shared Body of Christ.
And so, I seek to share this body, I seek to be a part of the sharing. I pray that I can see what needs doing and act on it to bring this Love into a concrete reality.
Tags: prayer, sharing
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