The March

Death, death is all around us.  You could feel it in the air.


  This past Monday H and I went with friends on the bus to Washington D.C.  for The March For Life.  This was my first time, Helen's third.  From CT is took us 7 hours, driving through the night and arriving just on time to attend the Mass at the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception.  This was only my second time in D.C., the first this past August to go to the Restoring Honor rally.   Let me say this; The Basilica is truly beautiful, inside and out, with all the altars off to each side.  We ended up getting lost right at the end of our ride into D.C., the Basilica not registering on the bus drivers GPS.  Go figure.  We found seats in the side altar dedicated to The Miraculous Medal.  A large video monitor provided us with the Mass, so we didn't miss a thing.  But even though this event was part of the larger event, The March, I want to focus on what stood out and still stands out to me.  Like I said, I'd never been to The March, never even protested at an abortion clinic.  This was all new ground for me.  Even the bus ride was disconcerting to me; there were no overhead lights on my side of the bus, and the none of the seats at all would recline.  Needless to say, no sleep came to me Sunday night into Monday morning.  No matter, I survived.  After Mass, a different bus brought us to an abortion clinic, no, not a clinic, a mill.  I didn't know what to expect.  When we stepped off the bus there were already people standing on both sides of the sidewalk, I think praying and singing, I can't quite remember.  A middle aged priest with that group showed us where to stand.  Almost immediately this group left, and we moved down closer to the entrance.  Young women dressed for the weather wearing yellow bibs that said Clinic Escort walked back and forth , up and down the sidewalk in front of us, I guess in order to keep the sidewalk open.  This must happen all the time, and if not, on this day at least.  A member of our group, R, one of the most spirit-filled people I know, began The Sorrowful Mysteries in a voice that was clear and strong in that cold morning air.  At about this time, the leader of our group, Hal, the retired gentleman who organizes this bus every year began to walk behind one of the women escorts. For a sign he had two pieces of cardboard held together with twine, hung around his head.  For the next hour he took turns walking behind each escort, silently, never saying a word, walking as we prayed aloud.  I was called upon to lead The third Sorrowful Mystery, The Crowning of the Thorns.  I remember starting to have a feeling of being swept up, of being a part of something that for some reason I'd never acknowledged, this feeling of, for lack of a better way to put it, Spirit of Christ, of doing something with others that, even in it's own small tiny way, was a voice.  I felt a great sorrow for what we were here for, but sorrow mingled with satisfaction.  Satisfaction in knowing that at least for this hour, the voice of God was being spoken here through His vessels, however unworthy.  We ended the rosary and began The Divine Mercy, led by D in her soft quiet voice.  We took turns leading this prayer, one leading, the rest of us following.  We finished, and our bus had not yet arrived, so we began another, this time singing. God is so good.  Even in the face of death, just footsteps from the entrance He shows Himself to us in the witnesses to our faith.  Hal, walking silently, following the footsteps of the consorts of death.  He was joined by an older woman, holding her own old sign, like Hal's a sign they use here every year, which just read Abortion Kills.  And finally a young mother with her 9 month old baby, another member of our group, she began to march on the sidewalk holding her bundled baby in her arms.  Talk about witnesses.  As we were finishing the last prayers of The Divine Mercy the bus arrived, and we all formed a line and got on board, still singing.  I was numb, but not from the cold.  As I sat down I knew that He had been present with us on that sidewalk in a very strong way, and in thinking back, probably in one way or another present to everyone who was there, from the escorts to the five motorcycle policemen who showed up halfway through our protest to all of us in our group.  Evil verses Good, right before our eyes.  The veil lifted, just a little bit.
  After the speeches, (which were very good) we began the march toward the Capitol.  R had told us to stick together, and we'll pray all twenty decades of the Rosary.  R has a beautiful melodic voice, and when he leads us in prayer his brogue comes through just a little bit.  On that day the Holy Spirit was with him especially, for I'd never seen him with such purpose.  We stuck close to him as best we could, answering him as he lead our prayers in the cold waning day.  Two priests joined us, and for awhile a young nun also walked along, replying to the strong voice that lead us above the din.  I don't recall if we made it through all 20 decades.  I don't think so.  Near the end, climbing the hill, I was cooked, my back done in by the bus ride and all the standing and walking.  We stayed only a few minutes at the top, near the end point of the march, mainly so the young kids who were with us could see the whole thing.  We turned our back on the Capitol, and made our way down to Union Station to find our bus.
  The ride home was uneventful, and I made it to work on time the next day, going with 3 hrs sleep.  I felt fine, really, still caught up in the excitement of my first march.  I really hope I don't have to go back again, but I'm afraid I will.  The culture of death is so ingrained in our society, it may never be eradicated.  During the week I thought about the whole event, the bus ride, the cold creeping into my feet as we stood listening to the speakers, the March.  How uncomfortable the whole thing had been.  How just days before last Sunday I'd moaned to myself that I'd have to gulp! sleep on the bus, something I'm not good at.  But you know where I'm going with this.  He is always here with us, leading us, comforting, us, teaching us, giving graces to those who will listen.  Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.  I heard, and saw, with my inner eye I saw.  All of what I'd complained about is nothing.  Nothing compared to the silent scream of a baby in the womb who feel the first prodding of the needle.  Nothing compared to the guilt of the mothers and yes, the fathers who finally feel the truth to what they had done.  The unregrettable remorse.  The sadness that fills my own heart thinking of the event in my life, so long ago.  Yes, I finally heard.  A long bus ride to stand in the cold?  Nothing, nothing at all to stand a be counted.  Nothing at all to raise voices together Heavenward to counter the culture of death.  

Here it is, my Cross.

  James 1: 19-25

  Keep in mind, dear brothers.  Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for a man's anger does not fulfill God's justice.  Strip away all that is filthy, every vicious excess.  Humbly welcome the word that has taken root in you, with its power to save you.  If all you do is listen to it you are deceiving yourselves.  

  A man who listens to God's word but does not put it into practice is like a man who looks into a mirror at the face he was born with:  he looks at himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looks like.  There is, on the other hand, the man who peers into freedom's ideal law and abides by it.  He is no forgetful listener, but one who carries out the law in practice.  Blest will this man be in whatever he does. 

  Sometimes God puts challenges before us that we perceive as almost impossible to overcome.  For me, these are usually issues that arise within my family, or our extended family.  A sister-in-law who is slowly destroying herself through addiction and stubbornness.  How to reach this person when so many obstacles lie between us?  Counseling a family member is so hard; it was much easier at the shelter.  We listened to them, tucked them in at night and then went home, hoping we did our best.  With a family member sometimes your charity falls on deaf ears, and we must accept whatever God gives back to us in humbleness and humility.  No shouting or screaming.  Just trust in God.   Oh, is that hard when the person your dealing with is someone you hold dear, someone you love.  Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger...  this reading from the Letter of James, which turned up as the Reading, Wednesday Evening Prayer has been lying uneasily within me since then.  Act on this word.  If all you do is listen to it, you are deceiving yourselves.  And it is so easy for me to deceive myself!  It seems like, to me, there are two types of men (not really, but for me, right now in my life, this is how men (or women) appear to me).  One is the man who appears cold and self-centered, who doesn't care much for his fellow men, who shows this by word and at times by deed, and the man who is always trying to do good, the one who appears to be lead by God at all times.  Who am I?  Well, the second man, of course.  Right? I am, aren't I?  Maybe not, not as much as I thought.  This morning I was shown an act of kindness in the small exploits of three of my co-workers.  One worker going out of his way to help two others dig out their car covered over by the snow from the recent storm.  The person who did the helping?  Why, the one who looks down on his fellow men. He went out of his way to help, just because he could.  And what does this have to do with the one who appears to be lead by God at all times.  A lot, because in my overblown view of myself I think I am he, lead by God.  Yet this week, this Wednesday evening I failed yet again in carrying out the law in practice.  When a call came to me to help a woman with problems she has, silly to me and small, but to her, life threatening issues, I found reasons and excuses not to go to her, not to reach out to her.  The roads are completely snow covered.  I've been at work since 5:30 this morning.  Whatever.  I'll be there tomorrow, right after work.  There, that calmed her down.   (But not really, what I didn't know until later).  And something gnawed at me, that kind of gnawing that one gets when you know you didn't do something quite right, even though there were many solid reasons for not doing it.  So the righteous man who is full of himself, the one 'lead by God' finds reasons for not being what has vowed to be, a Franciscan, a follower of Francis, a follower of Jesus, for crying out loud, and instead looks at himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looks like.  I was that man for two days, but God would not let me forget what I'd done.  Maybe He has too much invested in me, or something.  When He wants to get His point across He finds His ways.  A written word or two here or there, or an example of what a person should be like, right before my eyes.  He doesn't use shame, we bring that on ourselves, we know when we have wronged someone.  I made up my mind this morning that I'd call L on my way home and stop over and help her with anything I could.  She's very handicapped and only gets along with Helen and I, really, in the whole world.  And I dismissed her in her time of need because it inconvenienced me.  Unbelievable.  When I talked with Helen at mid-day she said L had called, was wondering if I could stop over after work.  Helen said that she already told L I would.  Helen knew.  When I got there I listened as she talked, told me of her problems of the last three days.  She is very sick, and weak.  I did what I could, and told her I'd be back tomorrow afternoon to finish what I'd started.  But there won't be any finishing, not really.  L will always need me, need Helen and I.  There are so many L's in the world, so many sister-in-laws.  And I must be there to help them, every one of them, without complaint.  That is the part that I must learn, no, not learn, but to love.  His commandment to Love Thy Neighbor bore into me with its full force today in all it's terrible beauty.  Terrible for me, for I had to re-learn it all over again.  Here it is, my Cross, I believe your following Me, am I correct?  Oh, yes my Lord Jesus, you are correct.  There is no way I could ever put this down, not ever again.  I may fall, stumble, cry out, but Lord as I help you, please, help me.  

  

Seek His Face

Once Friday comes I always breath a big sigh of relief; not because of anything I did, but because I know left to myself I'd never be able to hang in there for 52 hours a week, 50 weeks a year.  Talk about being picked up and helped along!  Whatever happens during the week always seems to be overshadowed by my working job.  Anything spiritual always seems to be done only halfway, before sleep overcomes me.  I'm not complaining!  I'm so very lucky to even have a job, never mind one that provides me with overtime.  I see the terrible situation many people are in.  Some very good friends of ours are not doing the best financially, and I can see the effects of this strain on their family.  As Seculars H and I know how we're supposed to treat this material world, but I think it's easier to despise money when all your bills are mostly paid, even if one is living paycheck to paycheck.  I've never been truly penniless, though in my heart I really do want to chuck this whole 9-5 routine, sell the house, rent a small room... but that's just one part of me speaking, and I'm not sure, really which part of me that is.  Like I said, everything is easier with a roof over your head.  Much to think about in these troubled times when it comes to money.  
  I try to not think about money much.  I really don't see too much of it; direct deposit and H takes care of the check book.  I don't take an allowance, so this I go for weeks at times without any money in my wallet.  I don't need much walking around money it seems.  I bring my coffee with me, get gas once a week with a debit card, that's about it.  All of this frees me to live my life as Franciscan as I can be, in this secular world.  Living as Franciscan as I can is a process that for me began as an idea of a way of life to actually living it.  I know that sounds simplistic, and it is, in a way, but only by the grace of God has this been allowed to happen.  Nothing happens on it's own; God is behind it all.  I was thinking today about my life many years ago, 30 plus years ago, and how I was so very far from God in my thoughts and actions.  God allowing his child use of free will, which turned out to be free will gone wild.  Where is God in one's life then?  Silent?  No, He's never really silent, we just choose not to hear Him.  He must just take a few steps back and wait.  Perhaps He was just...  I don't know.  I can't possibly know what He was thinking about me.  In the end, in my darkest hour, He pulled me back, pulled me back up onto my feet and sent me on my way, in a new direction.  Maybe He said something to me, quietly, in His silent voice.  Did He?  I don't know that, either.  I think He just pointed me in the direction of His Path and my guardian angel began to whisper Seek His Face, over and over at different times.  No split-second epiphany for me, just a long walk, mostly one step forward, two back.  Only now does the Path seem fairly stable.  I try to keep Him before me all day long, really before me, not in the background.  All the rest of the world seems to fall into step behind Him when I think like that, just the way it should.  
  Tomorrow I'm finally going to confession, the first time in about two months.  I know that sounds crazy, but I've had a real problem either getting to the heart of the matter in confession or dealing with myself before, during and after confession.  Confused?  I am.  The problem is I never feel like I've done a good confession.  Problems arise in the confessional; I forget things, I talk too much, I don't talk enough.  All week I've been dealing with this in my head, and I think tomorrow I'm going to go back to having my confession heard behind the screen instead of face to face.  I have this feeling that in the face to face confession, especially knowing the priest personally I really can't free myself to say what has to be said.  I'm hoping that the screen will do just that; act as a screen between me and Father.  
  Oh gosh, there was so much more I had to say but that was hours ago.  Night is upon us, and sleep calls.  First Friday.  The spirit and souls of the just are perhaps a bit more evident on this night, at least I like to think so.  First Friday means Nocturnal Adoration, and for us, rising at 3:30 am to be at All Saints Church for 4:00.  Blessed Jesus, I wouldn't have it any other way.


Oh Lord,
my words pour forth
from my lips
but are they always from my heart?
Is Your Name
ever on my tongue?
Oh Lord, my God
help me to ever
Seek Your Face,
to never turn my inner eye
from You,
to for ever hear Your Voice.

...now I must give all to Him.

   I could say I've finally found the time to blog, but in reality I could have posted here if I'd really felt the urge, but the words weren't there, and they still aren't, really, but I find that if I don't put out there what I feel inside then it gets bottled up and hidden, hidden by myself from myself at times, so I guess one could say this is therapeutic.  I have been posting on my other blogs, Oremus and The Narrow Gate, but none of the words on those are my words.  Oremus I use to post prayers and other spiritual pieces that I come across, and The Narrow Gate is writings from a book I'm reading, a friends book.  We go through life meeting people, some come and go, some make impressions, some not.  And some will change your way of thinking forever.  And so became The Narrow Gate.

   I love the Advent Season, I really do, and I love Christmas.  That said, it seems no matter how hard I try to keep Advent 'pure', meaning to me a four weeks of just living my life more in the anticipation of Our Lord's Coming, I let issues get to me just enough so that, by the time the 24th arrives, I'm disappointed in myself.  Nothing major, just that so much happens in the month of December as to distract me just enough so that I end up feeling that I've given Our yet Unborn Lord not what he deserves in my time contemplating Him.  For in contemplation is prayer, me speaking to God.  All just irreverent selfishness, I know, but I still feel sad.  I've come to see that it's almost an impossibility for me to reach even the path that I truly long for, never mind even the goal.  The life I lived before is ingrained so deep into me, the cleansing will take the rest of my life here on earth, whether that be one more day or fifty more years.  

And I'm not even counting purgatory...

   To give to God 100% of your life.  I used to think I understood what that meant.  I used to think I understood what to die to self meant. I think I know, but can I do it?  Can I do it everyday, every second, for the rest of my life?  I don't know.  I know I will try, and I must believe, I MUST believe that God will give me the graces every time I fall.  Every time I don't understand my brother or my sister in the world, and I begin to judge and not love.  Love thy Neighbor.  Only three words, but in those three words the command of Jesus lies.  Love thy Neighbor.  Jesus knew that those words hold the key to everything, but can I, us, the whole human race live those three words?  I can't even live them all the time.  Yet He calls us to do just that.  God even became like us to help show us, but do we follow, do we look?  

Do we love?

   Sometimes only in convenience I love, because loving my neighbor is hard, at times.  At work it is always hard.  So many people are so different from me that...

What a sorry excuse.  Yet in that small place in my mind, at times that thought erupts, and I hesitate.  I hesitate and He lets me know, He lets all of us know with the inner voice of Him that only we can hear.  Oh, Lord, to be able to be guided by that voice, to let my heart follow Yours, as You long for me to do.  I've tried to let the Silence of Advent guide me these last few weeks.  I don't know how well of a job I've done. Last Thursday, the 23rd, I spent two hours in Adoration and was blessed with graces from Him that I did not deserve but He gave anyway, for no reason other than Love.  Talk about mysteries.  To me, all of God is a mystery.  The mystery of His love for us.  How can it be?  I think it's time for a Rosary.  The wind is blowing and the snow is flying.  The short afternoon is slipping away towards the darkening night.  The Mystery of His Birth looms large before me, a comfort.  His love for us has arrived.  He has given to us, now I must give all to Him.

Waiting for the Light

I haven't posted in awhile, for many reasons, none of which are important.  The spiritual world of Our Father, the life we are called to live on this earth has been slowly, ever so slowly, filling in the dark places that I've lived in for so many years.  The more we let Him into our lives, let Him in and give ourselves over to Him...   the more our eyes will be opened.  
This Advent has been much different than others, but isn't that always the case?  Each year seems to bring about changes unforeseen, leaving us always one step behind.  At least that's the way it is with me.  I always have some idea about tomorrow, or the day after, but it's never like I planned when it arrives.  One case in point;  Tuesday evening our K of C council had our Christmas Social, (in old-fashioned terms, Christmas party).  We invite the Ladies Guild, Catholic Daughters, the Friars, nuns, widows, you name it.  Last year was not a good turnout, and since hardly anyone got back to me (1 person did) concerning what to bring, I expected the worst.  When we emerged from our very short meeting, the Hall was filled with more than 50 people, and their was enough food for many more than that.  Everyone thanked me for having such a great 'event'.  I didn't do anything!  He did it all!  He did it all because he is in charge, he directs me because I've learned to let Him lead me, as I should.  But with this new found docility that I've been granted the grace to understand, this pliability to mold me to understand, comes with it the narrow gate, the very narrow gate that leads to His Door.  Oh God, my God, at times I wonder how I ever got this far along in my miserable life! You were in charge even then, although I had no idea.  You waited for me, Lord, you waited and then you sent your Mother to open the door.  And now I find myself waiting for you, O Son of Man, waiting in that deep silence of Advent that you've put me in this year.  'Reflect on the mysteries of the Rosary,' people tell me.  In the darkness of these unusually cold late fall nights, in my contemplations I realize that I've never really entered into these ancient mysteries at all, only spoke about them and recited them by rote.  And the mystery of Joseph, his call from God and his complete strength and obedience to those calls.  Lord, how I wish I were more to my family as your foster father was to you and your Mother!  My worries and fears paralyze me at times, and I yearn now to hear you voice say to me Pick up your mat, and walk.  I am trying, Lord, even though they may be baby steps.  
This Sunday, the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, I will be re-consecrating myself to Our Blessed Virgin Mother.  I am in the baby step age group with this also, this being my third re-consecration.  I'll be attending 12:00 Noon Latin High Mass with a Rosary procession to follow honoring our B.V.M., followed by a guest speaker who will speak on her 30 years in the war against abortion.  Being Sunday, I will give myself over all my activities completely to Him.  What better way to spend the Lord's Day?  
  It's getting late, and I've been up since 4:00 am.  The house is cold, the kids are gone, H is asleep.  Night prayer calls, and perhaps that last Rosary after that.  To my left is My Ideal Jesus Son of Mary, which I'm only 2/3 of the way through.  In the back it has a page or two for re-consecrating, but I always read the entire book.  Even though I say a small prayer to Her every morning, it's not the same as this one special day.  To give back to Her in some small way for what she did for us so long ago, and for what she still does now.  The inspired words of My Ideal Jesus challenge me, and help keep me on the narrow road.  
The clock ticks on.  Downstairs, I know that last log is pretty much gone, and in front of the hearth I'll make my nights' last stand.  For me, the late evening is a good time to contemplate the Blessed Ones, The Holy Trinity, Mary, and all the Saints.  For in this darkness of night, Lord, you help me see Light.

Turn to love...

After work today I stopped over my parents house to help my Dad bring firewood down into the basement. He had triple bypass back in July, but he's really doing well. He's lost 32 pounds, does whatever the doctors say, eats right (finally!), etc. He loads the barrels from the woodpile, wheels them over to the hatchway and I lug them down the cellar stairs and stack the wood. We don't say too much when we work. I used to do most of the talking, but as I've gotten older I've realized I don't need to keep up a running conversation with him. I used to do it just out of nervousness, but recently something has changed between us. We've always had a somewhat rocky relationship, well, not rocky really, maybe edgy is a better word. He's very opinionated, and I didn't agree with a lot of his views. But like I said, something has changed. As I reflect on it perhaps its partly my attitude toward him and not him toward me at all. I can't put my finger on it, though. As we worked in silence my thoughts were as they usually were, filled with either prayer or a song, and this time it was a song, though I can't remember what it was. Probably John Michael Talbot, from his 'Chants' cd. That's all I've really listened to, lately. But whatever it was blended beautifully with our rhythm, him hauling and me caring, evening darkness falling around us, the moon high overhead. At one point my Dad said, "This is what you call moonlighting," and that small statement cracked me up. I know I'm very lucky to have both of my parents not only here with us but still so active. I haven't been the best son in the world over these 55 years. I've ignored them for long lengths of time, fought with them and spoken about them in not great ways, in which I'll never forgive myself. Looking back, how can anyone act that way to their parents? Recently I began my preparation for my re-consecration to Our Blessed Virgin Mother by re-reading My Ideal Jesus Son Of Mary, by Fr. Emil Neubert, S.M. In that book Fr. Emil shows the tremendous love Our Lord had for his Mother. I had forgotten the beauty of those passages, and as I read them during Adoration late Thursday I could feel a small sense of excitement and perhaps realization dawn again in me. So much of our lives are ruled by the secular world without us even knowing, when in many cases the choice really is ours to make. We live in the secular world but we need not be ruled by it. Unfortunately I let this world rule me most of my day, giving only lip service to our God. Working with my Dad was such a simple thing, but it was enough to act as a small catalyst, a small act resulting in the turning of a heart once again, a turning of a heart towards love.

A thought on charity...

In my readings lately the word 'charity' has been jumping out at me. I've come to see that Jesus put a lot of emphasis on that particular virtue. I've heard (or read, whatever) that without charity we are almost nothing. To tell you the truth, I never questioned that statement, just took it for granted I guess, but never really knew what it meant, or, what He meant by it. I see now, in my own understanding of it that charity and love go hand in hand. We cannot be christians, we cannot be Catholics without letting the virtue of charity rule our lives. "What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?" I see the similarity between this passage from James Chapter 2 and myself today; I can spend all day in prayer, sit before the Blessed Sacrament and say three Rosaries a day but if I don't practice charity, what good is it all? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure some good comes from such spiritual time. Souls in purgatory can always use our prayers. But I myself feel something missing, have felt something missing for some time now, and I believe this feeling has stemmed from my incomplete spiritual life. Have I become complacent? Probably. But He will not let me sit idle for long. He knows I'm capable of more. I know I am. In my mind I can tick off many people, mostly older men and women who could use my help in some way. My sister-in-law is very sickly, disabled really, but a very hard person to get along with. She is exactly the type of person I, we, are called to help. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. (Luke 6:33) To me, true charity is just that, helping a stranger or your enemy, not to make your self feel good but because this person or that person needs you help. And to do it for the love of your neighbor, for the love of God. To me, this is what Jesus was alluding to in His Sermon on the Mount. ...blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy... What have I been thinking lately? I know what I've been thinking, I've been letting myself get in the way of myself. I somehow thought that what I was hearing was God's voice, when in all actuality it was only me, dictating my own life to myself. I have to keep the noise of the world turned down just a little bit lower in order to listen to the voice of our God. Not just hear, but listen and do. I need look no further than my Seraphic Father, Francis, for an example of following the gospel, which is exactly what I should be doing. Gospel to life, life to Gospel. In the darkness of night, in prayer, charity is before me in so many ways, in so many musings. I can do this, and I will do that. K, forget the musings and take up that cross, the one you probably think is too heavy. Jesus calls me to walk with Him, not just a little way but the whole way, the whole journey, helping each other as we go. Only with the cross will I begin to learn Your way.

Oh Jesus,

You gave us so many examples

in your life,

from your birth

until your death

on how to stay upon the path

stay upon the road to heaven.

Help me to walk that path

joyfully,

to carry your Cross courageously,

and to show Your Face

to my brothers and sisters

in need.

Truth

"You cannot serve both God and mammon."

At morning Mass today Fr. D expanded on this statement from Jesus. I'll have to admit at times I become calloused to some Gospel readings when I'm not really sure on their 'true' meaning. I know, some people will say that the Word of God is different for everyone, and I also thought that way, thinking that that type of Gospel interpretation was the way to go.

Personally, I believe I was wrong.

We were given a Homily today that left no doubt in my mind to what Our Lord was trying to explain to his disciples and the Pharisees. And in that Homily I received two lessons; one, the message from scripture, and the second for me, in mine, and Helen's search for the truth, which is part of what this journey is all about. And that search for the truth can lead one to unexpected places. Like away from your parish of 20+ years to somewhere that the interpretation of the Word of God is not sugar coated to keep everyone feeling good. Where the Holy Mass is still offered with supreme reverence to God. These and many other things, once realized by the inner voice cannot be pushed aside, they must be embraced or one is fooling oneself. It was as if today, during Mass, Jesus Himself was there for me, not in physical form but His real Divine Presence, just pointing, leading, saying 'See? This is what I really meant.' It is a real uneasy feeling to have knowing that out there the Word is being explained in ways that are just not to their full importance. We cannot serve both God and Mammon. If we serve God, if we believe and follow Him completely, we can't water down His word to fit our own good feelings. His words are our path to Heaven. We can't have this world and His , too. This world pulls us away from Him, it doesn't lead us closer to Him. Serve two masters? No, that can't happen. Helen has followed her inner voice, the voice of God. I see the issues that have taken over good parishes and how at times priests think they are handcuffed to do much about the way things are. Maybe they were just taught wrong at the seminary,I don't know. I do know that we all must search for the truth, the truth that is at times obscured and hidden behind the mammon of the world. "I tell you, make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings." We cannot abandon this world, God gave it to us. but we can't rely on it either, for it is fleeting, and only The Word is eternal. Trust in the truth , the real truth that lies within the Gospels. Search and pray that His spirit will fill the hearts of so many who have fallen away, religious and laity alike.

Help me, Lord,

remove the scales from my eyes

so that I may see the Truth

and not Your Word

obscured by smoke

and false light.

Absence of Trust

"Trust in me."

Pretty simple words, don't you think? I always thought they were, simple, easy to live by. Even the ups and downs of day to day living most times don't seem to interfere with trusting in Him. With me, I do it every day, I pray, I trust in Him. Simple, right? How wrong could I be.

How quickly I can forget anything I ever learned, felt or loved about God. How the Sacred Word, passed down through centuries could mean anything different than it is. How could I think that my easygoing hassle-free life was a trial?. I've got a lot to learn.

I think I've seen the other side of people more in the last week, or to say, I've, no, not I, God has opened my eyes to see the strengths and weaknesses in people, but to what end? To bring about unease and trial in my life? Maybe. I don't know. I do know that people are put into the crucible for many reasons, some reasons never to be known by us. God's plan is His plan, not ours, and we are usually not privy to it. I'm certainly not in on his plans for me or my fellow co-workers or this shop I'm in. You cannot serve both God and mammon. Our shop is so production and money driven I hardly fit in anymore. I doesn't really matter. I'm content to sit in the rear seat and let others drive. The view is fine back here.

I've also seen decisions made in the last day or so that will affect people for a long time to come. Family matters. Jesus went up to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer... If we spend time in prayer, serious time searching for God's answer, we must have the strength to believe that that word, that insight is from God, and we're going to act accordingly. I witnessed someone very close to me do just that, and the answer she got was not a popular one. But she believed with her whole heart, soul and mind in the reply from God, and she has stuck with it. Time will tell what He has in store for her and her siblings. But the point here is, she trusted.

Me, on the other hand, when confronted with news that I don't like, that takes me out of my comfort zone, I turn morose. Even after being told how we must trust in Him, even after I say uh huh, in total agreement, inside I'm tore up. This one issue, I had tried to keep it out of my mind, just let everything play itself out. But I got excited over premature news, and then, a couple of days later when things didn't work out, I felt cheated. Aarrgh! Why do I fall when I should rise? He tells us to trust, and when I really should, when I really have to, I can't. Somewhere, deep inside, I must think I'm still in charge of some things. This just shows how deep that trust in God has to go. One must believe completely, without hesitation. Will I ever reach that point, that point where this secular world has not so strong a hold on me? When I can move more freely between this world and His world, when they finally blend together and become one? Maybe never. I know I must just go on in the not knowing of His love the love that is here, all around me and inside me.

And trust in Him.

Oh my Lord and my God,

I'm commanded to walk

in your ways,

to trust in your words,

but I turn

and my own path calls me.

Is that You, Lord

I hear beside me, arm outstretched

before me, showing my way?

Night Prayer

Night Prayer

Reading

They shall see the Lord face to face and bear his

name on their foreheads. The night shall be no more.

They will need no light from lamps or the sun,

for the Lord shall give them light,

and they shall reign forever.

Revelation 22: 4-5

How to word this...

The reading above was from Sunday, the 17th, Night Prayer. H and I went over to a good friend of ours house, Barbara, a Third Order Franciscan like us but also an ex(?)-nun (is their such a thing?) whose order dissolved many years ago. She is still a nun to us, a very holy and devout woman, in her 80's. She had already done Evening Prayer, so we did Night Prayer. She told us that in some Monasteries the monks chant Night Prayer in the dark, having committed it to memory. I love Night Prayer, the darkness of it, the way in saying it it points so effectively towards God, towards prayer. When Barbara and Helen get together they like to chant their prayers, so we chanted Psalm 91, Barbara and I doing one verse, Helen the other. And we did everything slowly, never rushing, enunciating each word. Barbara has many tips and insights from back in 'the day', and she always shares with us. That night as she read the Reading, Revelation 22:4-5, slowly in her clear voice the words really jumped out at me. 'They shall see the Lord face to face and bear his name on their foreheads.' To see the Lord face to face. Just think about that for a moment. What will it take for us to get there, to see Him. I think of how far I've come on this journey and realize I've really not gone anywhere. The further I think I've progressed the more I realize, well, I don't know what I realize. I do know that, for me, complacency is my bitter enemy. Every once in a while I find myself feeling good, almost feeling smug, in my faith. It's like blinders have been put on and all I can see is the good around me. God doesn't want that in me, maybe not in any of us. H wants me to stay hungry, hungry for His love, hungry to see His Face. And how will we see His Face? Not being complacent. Not accepting our lot in life. I believe only by living the Gospel life will we have the path to reach Him. All week the Readings have been about discipleship, about how to constantly be alert and strive to reach the higher goal. When I feel myself just going thru the motions, just living in the secular world and not the world of heaven, that is when I must stop and look at the Cross. There hangs all the answers. He died for us not so we could live a half-life, or to ignore Him completely. He died to save us from ourselves, because we cannot go it alone. I, we, are tested every day. And we well know who is prodding us, lying to us and darkening our eyes. It is in weakness that I am strong. I know the Lord wants to entrust me, us, with more. He wants me to seek His Face. And as I do, and hope to find, then...

The night will be no more. They will need no light

from lamps or the sun, for the Lord God

shall give them light,

and they shall reign forever.

Together!

26 years married today, the last 5 truly in the Blessed Arms of Our Lord, to my best friend, wife and companion on my journey, Helen. I am a blessed man! See our pic at http//insearchofmyblog.blogspot.com

An uncalled for whine...

So it's Monday morning, I'm not feeling so hot, I'm still not unwound even from work last week and I'm back here already, I'm sore all over from working with Helen on the way overgrown hedgerow at the farm, etc, etc, etc, I'm whining inside, sort of. Break time comes, I start my readings. Then, from Medjugorje Day By Day:

Dear children, this evening I especially call you
to perseverance in trials. Reflect on how the Almighty is
still suffering today on account of your sins. So
when sufferings come, offer them up as a sacrifice to God.
(Weekly Message, 3-29-84)

How often, for me, do answers come unlooked for from the Hand of the Almighty? He is behind all. Let me say, I'm not suffering. I'm just whining, whining about a Monday. But I was brought about quickly, realizing that I have much much more than most people and nothing to complain about, ever. I will offer them up as a sacrifice to God, as I keep my gaze on the Cross.

...more will be asked...

"From everyone who has been given much, much

will be demanded; and from the one who has been

entrusted with much, much more will be asked."

Luke 12:48

I thought of this quote from the Gospel as I was pulling into work yesterday morning. I'd just finished saying the Rosary and usually I finish with about 8-10 min. left before I get to work. At 5:00am there's not much traffic on the road so I use the beads. Most mornings I'm fairly focused and I'm able to pray and contemplate the decades as best as can be while driving a car. Some mornings though, other thoughts filter in, work, the night day before, whatever. Yesterday was one of those days; I don't even remember what was on my mind. But during those last few minutes I give to Our Blessed Mother, St, Francis and all the Saints, Our Lord and his Heavenly Father my intentions for the day. I didn't get a chance to do any, and that always bothers me. Then, for some reason (HA!) that scripture quote popped into my head, and it made so much sense to me. I think, even in my humbleness, I'm one of those whom Our Lord is demanding more from. It is not my lot to take the easy way out, not any more. Maybe when I took my Franciscan vows, something changed between me and God. I don't really know. Probably this, the more demands, are a loving consequence to that. All those people I offer my first Rosary of the day to, every one of them needs my prayers. And I from them. And if God uses my prayers for something else, so be it. It's not mine to decide. In my own way I'm trying to figure these things out. This is where the mystery of it all nearly overwhelms me. How can He love all of us, together and equally? How can any of us do Him homage? My Rosary intentions seem almost meaningless. This thought has bothered me since that morning. Tonight, though, the Reading, James 1:2-8, during Evening Prayer, helped to bring it all back to me. If any of you is without wisdom, let him ask it from the God who gives generously and ungrudgingly to all, and it will be given him. We are told over and over that God loves us. We are asked to love Him in return, with all our hearts, with all our soul and with all our mind. When will I ever learn to do just that?

Lord,

continue to guide me

even when I know not,

as I ignore the signs and wonders

You rain down upon me,

your worthless servant,

your humble wretched creature.

Francis

How to speak about Francis...

I really can't, I will never do justice to him whom we follow, who leads us to Christ. At the 11:15 Mass Sunday, Fr. Toms' Installation Mass, he spoke in his homily about being a Franciscan, what Francis meant to him. Food for thought. Last night, at our Transitus gathering, more stories of Francis read by more Franciscan priests who made the journey to our small parish. To some of them, I think, Francis truly speaks in a deep way, on a deep level. Francis still calls to me but in a different way than 4 years ago when I began walking the path of Francis. I too, feel that deeper calling, as does Helen. Sad to say, with some Franciscan priests what they call the 'Franciscan Spirit' is not Franciscan at all. It's modernism in it's plainest form! Francis would never have put up with some of the liberties taken by some men of the cloth today. Maybe it's me, but the real spirit of the little poor man is one of humility and poverty, and a deep and abiding love and reference for the Holy Eucharist. I just don't understand it. I'm not going to complain anymore about it. Today was a beautiful day, spent at work, trying to do my best to put Christ before my co-workers. I don't know, most times the face I show is not His but my searching face, the one I wear most days as I look for Him along my road. Francis leads us to the Father, by just being who he was, a person just like you and me who by hearing His call and abiding by it, changed the face and direction of the Church forever.

The Little Flower

"You know that our Lord does not look at the greatness or the difficulty of an action but at the love with which you do it. What then have you to fear?" - ST. Therese of Lisieux

This weekend is a busy one for us. First Friday Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament tonight, Nocturnal Adoration later from 1-2 am, our Knights of Columbus Pig Roast tomorrow after the 4:00 Mass, the Installation Ceremony for our new Pastor, Fr. Tom takes place during the 11:15 Mass Sunday, and to end the weekend, since we're a Franciscan parish, we celebrate the Transitus of St. Francis Sunday night at 7:00. Whew. The only reason I bore you all with this inane list of stuff has to do with the beautiful quote from St. Therese. She didn't care what she was doing, whether it was scrubbing the privy floor or washing the linens used in Mass. She performed all chores, and I'm sure all actions with the intent of doing them for our Lord. Think about that. To be in that frame of mind always, in what amounts to constant prayer, that elusive state we all seek on our journeys. I have many chores to do this weekend, some I love to do and some, well, not so loved. But the Little Flower reminds us, reminds me to do them all with love, with kindness and with sincerity. A few days ago I was blessed by God to be able to help a friend of ours just by cleaning up some leaves. She was so thankful and for me, it was only a small task. I learned something that day I'd always known, but kept hidden behind that wall; God is love, and if we seek and find Him, we find his love. Help me Lord and be with me these next few days, help me to do my best, to show Your Face, not mine, to everyone I meet.

Look This Way

Truly I say to you: You will see the heavens open up, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.

Canticle of Zechariah, Ant. Morning Prayer

I'll be the first to tell you, I'm not really sure what the above means. I have my own idea, but there's more to it than what I suspect. I do believe that angels are here, close by to us, in a world not usually seen but certainly felt. But can they really help us? Can they help me? Every day I swerve from my path. I swerve a bit, but don't leave the path. Why? I don't know. Are they there when the world pulls me to the side in any number of ways? They must, because I'm certainly not nearly strong enough to resist this world completely. Maybe if I truly lived a monks life, not this imitation thing I do now. I want so much to be nearer to God at all times, yet as each day of the week ticks off I seem to lose more and more ground. One step forward, two steps back. At times I think I should just cloister myself at work, be silent all day, talk only when spoken to. I know I need the discipline in my life, and right now I just don't have it enough, not when I really need it. Call upon the angels, especially our guardian angel. I do, when I remember. How bad is that? When I remember...

So I go on, every day, and no matter what, I praise and I pray. God gives me bits and pieces, His face shown to me in a word, or the gesture of a c0-worker. The event that happens just for me, like this evening, when instead of a quiet night we helped a friend in need, blowing leaves away from her house in the dark. For someone else, this asking and giving would mean little, or just an act of kindness. And for Helen that's what it is, just another act of love in a long day of helping people. For me, my first thought is, what an inconvenience! Can you believe that? And coming from a Franciscan. Off the road again. This time, though, it didn't take long for me to see how blessed I was to be able to help someone. How God is so good to us when He does such things! Nothing is by chance. His Hand is behind all, and I must be more aware of Him and His actions. I must look and feel for the presence of his angels as they fight to protect me from this world. I'm always striving for quiet time. Thirsting for something for me. Maybe tonight was one of those moments where He says, My son, look this way. I looked, oh God my Father. And I saw your Son.

Inside I'm alive

We had our Installation Ceremony after the 4:oo Mass yesterday and it went very well. We had just enough K of C Officers (5) to make the Cross, so that was good. I don't usually post on Sunday, and this might not even make it today, but I had to (not really had to) send two e-mails out that were fairly important, so here I am, on the computer. This has been a grueling stretch of events the last 2 weeks. Three fundraising events in three weeks will take it's toll on a person. Not a real toll, I can't really complain, it's just that belonging to our council means the same 10 guys do everything. How do you spell burnout? I miss the down time with my Lord. I vowed to make more time for Him, quiet time and the opposite happens. How can I reverse my life to reflect my wants? HA! Selfish person! Crybaby! It would be so easy to fall into this frame of mind, many people do. I cannot. I am here to serve God, to follow His Son. If my days are not my own, well, for now, so be it. People ask for my help. Friends ask me to please do this for them...that for them How can I say no? Seriously. I said no to people for 45 years of my life. When I feel overwhelmed I only need to look to the Saints, and not only the Saints from long ago. I know a few people personally that help me through inspiration get through my day. And don't forget Jesus, who had the worst day of all. No, even if my days are not my own they are for my brothers and sisters, who find ways to use me to do good. Because with Gods' good graces that's what I seem to be doing a lot of lately; helping people do good things. Helping out for two hours at a pro life table, working at yet another event for the K of C, taking a couple of more hours at the upcoming 40 hour Adoration. I don't mind. I may look tired, but inside I'm very alive, for God has filled me with His Light.

Oh Lord my God!

You way is crowded with this world,

the world of men put forth by you.

My path, at times a thin line

that weaves amongst the darkened shapes,

a path lit forth with Your Word,

a torch held high for us to follow...

A lesson in Humility (again!)

Here at work we're coming up on our audit date so it's catch-up time for all the paperwork that exists to run a shop, which, in turn, puts everybody on edge, including me. After yet another point made to me about a detail missed (by me!) I mentioned to my co-worker that I can't let these chastisements by others in charge of getting us ready for the audit bother me anymore. I take things like this way too personally and then take it out on the messenger. A few minutes later at break I read today's 1st Reading, Ephesians 4:1-7, 11-13. "...I urge you to live a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, ..." God is so very very good, and the words of His son always ring so true. Here I am having difficulty dealing with small piddly things in life, issues that I should just deal with not only professionally but in a Franciscan frame of mind, but I don't or can't or something, but here He comes, so subtle, so quiet, gently turning my eyes from the ground to see what is ahead of me, which is, of course, my brothers, Jesus Himself. I felt so bad for my actions but this time He didn't let me get away with just feeling bad. I always feel remorse after I act like an a$% to someone, but this time I seemed to just have understood it more. I knew I'd sinned. And in sinning, I'd thrown it all back into Gods' face. I remembered the Gospel from this past Sunday, about trust and sins, and how sinning affects everyone, and then trust is out the window. I read today's reading to my co-worker, Perry, and he just nodded his head. He's a deep one, Perry is, he understood immediately. Thanks for the lesson Lord. In humility and humbleness I accept your loving chastisement. I'll try to pass the lesson on.

...a little steam...

Tonight on the news they showed the Pope in Scotland with the Queen and also at the outdoor Mass. This is just my opinion and I'm probably way off base here but I'm venting. I'll admit I didn't hear the beginning of the story, but I heard the end, the part where the reporter speaks about the recent tragic events in Belgium concerning the pedophile priests there and the 13 suicides. Absolutely tragic. Incomprehensible. I'm not arguing any of that, there is nothing to argue about. My gripe is the fact that nothing good seemed to be said in the part of the reporters story that I heard. It was like the footage of the Pope with the Queen and then at Mass had no relation with the storyline. I forget his exact words, and I should just drop the whole thing, but he (the reporter) seemed to dismiss the crowd as a bunch of curious bystanders. I myself doubt if they all were. Most of the 100,000 or more came to see the Successor of Peter, our Light on Earth. Can only the truth be found on EWTN? (I know, I know even they fail at times.) Like I said, maybe I'm all wrong on this, I don't know. For me, it all goes back to the same thing I say to my co-workers at least once a week; you either believe in God or you don't. You either believe in everything or you believe in nothing. Again I may be wrong, but to me there is no middle ground. I'm not saying not to question. I'm saying to have Faith. And to have Faith is to live it. Not to pick and choose when to talk to God, or when to show your love to your fellow man. You show your love all the time. I know their are co-workers we don't always get along with, or we don't like their attitude, their color, whatever. Every workplace has brother and sisters that we judge to be off.. And it's so easy to fall into the rut of dismissing them, or exploiting them. Almost all of us do it at times. But we're not supposed to! Ever! It doesn't say anywhere that you can do it every once in a while. Like I said, you either believe, or you don't. God is Love. Words again, said by us at times, mostly read by us, written by John, but not practiced enough by us, at least by me at least. I see it in work and out, and it seems the whole world at times lives the same way, by judging. The day in, day out, rhythm of our lives sometimes prevents us, isolates us away from the true path we must take. We must walk with more humility but with our eyes raised to heaven, to the Father. I believe only then with our gaze fixed firmly on what is above will we be able live our lives in Jesus' name here on earth.

Sorry for the rant.

The Wall

We think we know God, know Jesus, know where we are going, or at least have an idea. I did. I seemed to understand where my place was, where I was settling into, well, sort of. It's hard to explain. I felt I knew what my role was, or maybe how things would unwind before me.

But again, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Let me say that Helen and I do everything together. We are deeply in love, with each other and together in our love for Our Lord. We professed as Secular Franciscans together, we pray together, go to church together, everything. You get the idea. What Helen is and does so much better than me is love. Her love for the elderly, the downtrodden, our brothers and sisters living on the fringe is an example for all to witness and follow. As for me I've always let her act as a buffer for me. It's something that has just evolved, possibly because I'm not as outgoing. I have a hard time on account of that inner wall that I built long ago, I don't even know why I did it. It's there, though, I can feel it. H has no such wall. She just is. So I've always had the luxury of her going first, and I follow.

Until now.

H is up at M.V. getting the house ready for renters. We have a very dear friend, C, very spiritual, very catholic. He's a retired teacher and he's not been feeling well lately. He's wanted to go on retreat, up to the Maronite Monastery in Petersham MA but with his dizzy spells he can't drive the hour and a half. I told him anytime you want to go I'll bring you up and bring you back. He couldn't thank me enough, and he decided that this past Sunday I'd drive him up and pick him up on Tuesday. Well, he called yesterday morning saying he really didn't feel well at all, and he'd better stay home, which was fine, we'll do it again sometime. He then asked me if I'd like to come down for dinner, he has a bunch of leftovers that he'll never finish. Later that day I found myself sitting across the table from a man I only knew from going to Mass with or when he'd host a prayer gathering at his home. Always there were many people that would call for C's attention, but now it was only me. Me and a man who's health is not so good, alone and needing the love of a brother. I have to tell you, I was and still am completely unprepared for what God was asking of me. I never realized how hard and high I'd built that wall. I'd always thought that I was loving my fellow man. I always thought I was doing God's will, following his Son. I know now I was not giving enough. I'm still not giving enough. As we talked and ate I knew I'd gotten it wrong. I began to see the meaning of to see Jesus in everyone you meet. I'd hidden behind the towering presence of H all these years, taking the easy road. Now God is saying Here is my Son. Can you help Him carry His cross? And I'm lost. I have to re-learn how to reach out. Not to just reach out, but to reach out and take their hand, to help them up. As we ate and talked I had to literally begin tearing down the wall, the wall I'd built to hold in all my love, to not give it away. I knew I had to give it away, but I'd not known how. I still don't, not really. C shows so much trust and love to me. After we finished and cleared the plates we sat in his small chapel that he made and said a Rosary. Just me and a brother saying the Rosary, letting our voices rise up to heaven. Lastly, I moved some plants in for him, and did another chore or two. We agreed to meet again soon.

God showered me with many graces this weekend, and in my hardened state I'm still trying to absorb them. My wall will come down, I want it to come down, it's just that it's been up for such a long, long time...

My dearest Mother,

You are the way to Your Son,

the one whose hands are strong.

His love will help me

unbuild the wall.