Partners

Wow... I'm hitting that "it's almost time for bed and I haven't written my daily blog post" point. I think this is why NaBloPoMo hasn't always worked well for me. Ah well, soldier through!

What is on my mind today is this matter of partnering. I find that this is a deeply important paradigm for me to keep in front of my awareness in terms of both my relationship with my Lord and my relationship with my husband. It keeps me focused on who I am and who I am with.

This is what I mean: The reality of my day (on a Monday, at least) is that my husband goes off to work and I am home with my children, doing domestic living and learning. Then he comes home for dinner, some portion of the family goes out to activities, and finally we all call it a night. I can live this with the awareness that my husband and I are partners in making our home and raising our family, that we each have the well-being of all in mind and heart and purpose, though each is involved in different aspects of the effort. Or, I can live this with a sense that I am doing "my thing" while my husband is off doing something completely different, and that because we are doing different things we are each detached, even alienated from the rest. It is completely possible that the exact same set of circumstances could be lived either way. The difference is attitude, or perspective. Where is my heart?

The reality of my life is similar. I can live my life filled with activities, thoughts, plans, sufferings, joys, prayers. I can operate as if I have an agenda to fulfill, a standard to meet. I can regularly evaluate how I measure up against myself. I can even nod my head towards God as the supposed Author of my agenda and my standard, but really hold the whole management of my life in my own hands. Or, I can begin each day (as I do, in reality) with a Morning Offering, entrusting everything that happens that day and everything I do, as a prayer and offering to the Father in union with Jesus. In this way, I am acknowledging that nothing will touch me that is not also touching my Lord. He is with me closer than I can know, experiencing everything as I do. And with my prayer of allegiance, I ask for the grace to obey every direction the Lord might give throughout that day. It is a very quick prayer, but it sets the stage of my day to be open at every turn to the Lord present with me. In this way, God Almighty becomes a partner with me, and I with Him, throughout my life. This is incredible! But what else can it mean that my relationship with the Lord is personal?

For me, the key to love is "personal." As soon as I get abstract, theoretical, figure-headish, role playing, in any relationship, I know something has gone astray. The concept of partnership reminds me constantly that I have what is mine to give, but I am not alone in that. In the case with my husband, as with other people, I give in faith, trusting him to do the same, and being helped by his giving when I get lost and give up. With my Lord, it is all the Lord who gives in faith ("while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us") and enables me to respond to Him. It's in this way, I suppose, that those who partner with us mirror to us God's faithfulness.

I thank my God every time I remember you.  In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.(Philippians 1:3-6)

Wordless Weekend: John Michael Talbot's "Regathering"

Wordless Weekend: Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

Lazarus, Come Out!

The Lord can reach through time and space

And touch a wound, heal a pain

Fill a gap, leave a grace

Leaving a soul richer than the day of its creation

If only we will but see

The many ways in which we are not God

See and believe how much bigger is He

Than our efforts, our worries, our self-bandaging

Be still, little girl, He spoke to my soul

Be still and know I am God

I am Love; I heal where you cannot

In your heart, I come to stay

And from you, I go out; Bring love to a world

Which wounds in its wounding and pain

I heal you to heal; I love you to love

Gaze on Me: together always.

Vengeance: Who's Going to Pay for This?

This afternoon I heard a homily on forgiveness. Because my children were with me and there were noses to wipe and pieces of paper to retrieve and little chats to put a stop to, I was not completely glued to every word that came forth from Father's mouth. But my attention was caught by his last point, which concerned how to differentiate forgiveness from emotional or feeling-based responses. At times, people think that if they have any negative feelings toward a person, they must not have forgiven. Or, they think that forgiveness requires one to like an individual that one finds unpleasant. Father's point was that you can know you have forgiven when a) you do not seek revenge and b) you pray for the person.

I'm not sure why that struck me so, but it did. I don't resonate much with the word vengeance. (Though it reminds me of a video by Rich Mullins where he says "I know the Bible says 'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord, but I just want to be about the Lord's business!") What I resonate with  -- no, resonate is not the right word here. Resonate has too positive a quality to it. What I equate with vengeance is the feeling that somebody has to pay for this. And that somebody, somewhere in my gut, always seems to be me. There's something very wrong with that. And I think at heart, fixing it has a root in the need to properly forgive.

Really, not being vengeful is a matter of allowing justice to be carried out by the Lord. Entrusting injustices to Him. What is vengeance, after all? Is it not the idea that I will do something to replace what has been stolen from me, or from someone? And that someone that is done is generally another violation, another violence. Blame, a grudge, a punishment, a torment. A price. It is me declaring that I have the superior oversight of objective reality, and I know what a sin costs, and I know how to extract what it takes to heal.

In other words, I'm God; I'll handle it.

But in my heart, my own personal version of this, has never been really to unleash purposefully hateful or violent acts toward another, to get even. It has been to inflict them on myself. Maybe this shows an intuition of reparation or intercession, but it still really boils down to I'm God; I'll handle it.

And then there's when I see someone who can do this better than I can. Someone who feels the need to say "excuse me" when another person burps. The first person to stop to pick up things others have dropped. I'm sure it is possible for someone to do that because their heart is full of generosity. But I see an ability to say You've just made a mess in my life. This is really an injustice. Someone has to pay, and it has to be me. I have to absorb your fault. Not "allow me to help you" but "I have to."


In other words: God is not doing His job. I have to.

Nuances, nuances! There is such a difference between being motivated by the love to say "I would do anything to make you happy," and "I hate how this pain has disrupted my life, but I want to avoid the complication of blaming or wanting to destroy another (maybe because it doesn't make me look so good), so I'll take the vengeance inside myself, do the violence to myself, and try to make myself happy by letting you avoid pain."

Or, it could just be a child's magical thinking inside an adult psyche: if I pinch myself until I hurt, I can take away the hurt I see going on around me. The mind has habits, and this is why St. Paul admonishes us to be transformed by the renewal of our minds (Rom. 12:2).

God alone is my Savior, and God alone is the Savior of the hurting person next to me. If I am to give anything at all to the hurting person next to me, it must come from God. Or perhaps better yet, if that hurting person next to me is to receive something that will heal her, it must come from God. I could heap all sorts of things on all sorts of people, and it might only clog them off or confuse them from receiving from God. It's not that I need fear about giving from out of my heart, but I do need love to motivate me in all things, never a twisted sense that I have to pay for this.

Citizen of a Political No-Man's Land

The more involved I am in the political scene, the less I identify with partisan politics.

So it was a strange feeling today when I ran into a friend who was giddy-excited over the results of yesterday's elections. She gushed her sense of relief that nearly all of "her" candidates won, and the key candidate we had mutually hoped to lose actually did. I wasn't quite sure how to emotionally process what was coming across to me. I wasn't sad about the election results. But I couldn't get that excited over them, either. I suppose it is because elections don't change the direction of the country. Oh, elections have consequences, I do know that old saying is true. But the truth is, we won't know what those consequences are until those who have been elected start acting in office. Will my new Congressman respond personally to my letters? Will we see him in the district more than the outgoing one? Will he introduce legislation that I want to see introduced? Toward whom will he gravitate? Will he turn out to be power hungry and forget that his role is to represent, not engineer?

I don't know. I'll have to wait and see.

A few days ago I read a blog post by DownsizeDC.org that I appreciated quite a bit, entitled What Will The Election Change? It included this gem:

We don't like talking about political personalities. They pretty much all stink.
And we think partisan politics is even worse. Parties are palliative to thought. They're toxic to discourse. They provide social proof that cognitive dissonance is just dandy, while logic and consistency are dangerously radical.

I'll admit that until just before the election, I was getting ready to throw in the towel on my "public" political involvement, to the extent that I lead a local Tea Party offshoot group. But DownsizeDC once again has re-encouraged me to consider that the important part of the political process is not who gets elected, but moving enough citizens to exert enough pressure on those who are elected -- whoever they are-- to consider the issues, to put forth the legislation, to open the dialogue and debate, so that laws can be passed that change the way things happen in Washington. Simple, common sense measures that would drastically change the way politics works, like the One Subject at a Time Act (where bills about health care can't change the statutes covering education loans) and the Read the Bills Act (so we don't have to pass bills to find out what is in them).


So, keep your excitement over the Republicans taking over. I would like common sense to take over. When I see that happening, I'll throw a party.

Pachinko, Garbage, and Peeping Water Buffalos

So, here I am on the second whopping day of the write-every day challenge, and already I realize why I don't write every day. Forget simply not having the time, sometimes I'm just too dang hormonally challenged uncreative to come up with anything I feel like saying.

But since my theme is stories I never get tired of telling, I'll pick a silly story today. This happened to me in Japan. I often felt that Japan was booby-trapped for foreigners, there were that many occasions for me to make a complete idiot out of myself in the two-and-a-half years that I lived there.


One of these occasions happened on an evening when I was taking out my garbage. We had lots of different garbage pick-ups per month, with different types of garbage collected each time. This was probably plastic pick up day, because I had stuffed my junk into a plastic shopping bag. I dutifully took it to the "corner" (well, the little alley ways were hardly in a grid pattern, so it was no corner, but it was the neighborhood trash spot at least). The spot was just near a pachinko parlor. Pachinko, if you are not familiar, is the Japanese equivalent of a combination between a loud, obnoxious computer game with the social factor (sort of) of bingo. Oh, wait. A picture is worth a thousand words:

Except you really need the audio. These places loudly blare animated-type pinball sounds and music constantly.

Ok, so there I am with my garbage, stacking it at the corner of the pachinko parlor. Suddenly I realize the bag has come untied. I bend down to tie up the bag. All fine and dandy. Until I glance up just a bit and see a surprised man's eyes meet mine, as he slams a window shut. It seems that I had been tying my bag just outside the window of pachinko parlor's men's restroom. And I had been bending over at the perfect level to peep in the window and watch this man pee. Except, I wasn't! of course. I was tying my freaking garbage bag. Can I help it if Japan is simply built too compactly?

Lacking the culturally appropriate phrase to use for this kind of misunderstanding (do you really suppose there is one?) I simply slinked back to my apartment, cringing just a bit more than usual and feeling like the stereotypical water buffalo in a tutu.

Jesus Describes His Love For Us

On the first of every month, Our Lord gives Anne a new message about His call to service.

November 1, 2010 

 

Jesus

Dearest apostle, be assured of My good will toward you. At times, I see that you forget that you have a beloved and constant friend. I am a friend who never finds you tiresome or difficult. I am with you during your calm periods and during your storms. I find you a precious companion regardless of your disposition in any moment. Think of someone whose companionship you crave or whose companionship you craved in the past. Just the thought of spending time with that person could bring you consolation. With that person, you felt comfortable, safe and there was joy. You could be yourself and felt that you fit well with this other. Dear apostle, for you, I am that other. For Me, you are that other. We fit together. When you are with Me, you are with the one who completely understands you and completely loves you. My love for you is sympathetic, understanding and unchangeable. My love for you will weather any strain or pain, any mistake or any emotional storm you experience. I will never leave you. I will always love you and welcome you in My heart. Your answers and your clarity will be found with Me. Sometimes, dear apostle, you fear that I am not giving you the answers you require. This is not true. If you need an answer from Me, you will receive it. If a course correction is necessary, I will direct you to it. Your prayers are instantly at home in My heart and I rejoice that you have come to Me with these requests. It is not possible that a beloved apostle will be rejected. Do not think that I ignore your pain or that your pain leaves Me indifferent. You, dear apostle, have shown Me that you are interested in My pain which will always involve the pain of humanity. This moves My heart to the greatest generosity. I answer your prayers in a mystical way. Some day you will see that I answered your prayers in the most beneficial way possible, given the intention. Many unnecessary calamities are avoided because of prayer. The greatest mercy flows down to your loved ones through your prayers, even though you suffer terribly when you see your loved ones hurt or when you must be separated from them, particularly when you do not expect to be separated from them. I am the merciful Christ in all of these situations. Understanding will come, dear friend. Believe in your prayers. Believe in My merciful presence with you. Believe in the impact of your service and believe in the gratitude I have for you, even when you do not feel it.

Here's Why I Love the Feast of All Saints

This morning when I woke up, it struck me clearly why I love the feast of All Saints so much. In days gone by, it seems I could never look at a human being, myself or anyone else, without getting depressed. I am by nature the type of person who sees flaws, failings and weaknesses. I see the problems in a picture. Add to this tendency having been taught the theological notions of the total depravity of man and justification as a legal fiction, and you have a recipe for a mess. I don't know how many times I heard the idea that being justified means that God looks at us with some holy sense of amnesia, "just as if" I'd never sinned. The idea was that, for Jesus' sake, He plays along with the charade and calls us holy, imputing Jesus' righteousness to us legally. Grace meant we were "covered," not changed. We stay rotten, abominable sinners, unable to do anything good. Then we die and get to heaven and finally we are really holy because we've left this world and sin behind.

It could be worse. The basic things are there: Salvation comes through Jesus, heaven is the goal, we sin. But there's this huge, gaping span called the course of human existence that gets left on the dung heap, to use the metaphor Luther was fond of. It occurred to me at one point in my life that if we were doomed to live this sort of dungy type of existence, and bliss and Jesus awaited us in heaven, why not just check out ASAP to get there? Why bother living? Why was suicide not a great option? There was a logical inconsistency here, and my life depended on it.

So, I will say that it was when I became a Catholic that things changed, although in this instance I use the phrase "becoming Catholic" in its ongoing sense of constant conversion. There wasn't one date where I suddenly believed a different doctrine and everything changed. Transformation doesn't work that way.

I learned the theology. I learned that grace as a legal fiction is inadequate, and unbiblical. I learned that grace is about sonship and entering God's covenantal family and being transformed from glory to glory. This not only was Scripturally consistent, it resonated with the deepest needs my soul had always felt: If God cannot transform me, I thought, who needs Him?

All that learning helped me understand, and my constitution requires understanding things. But where my heart is really torn open is in interaction with other people. In some ways, I only became a Catholic a couple of years ago. (In other ways, I suppose I'll only become a Catholic this afternoon or tomorrow or next month!)

How's that, you say? Well, I realized about two years ago that I had always kept a certain reservation in my heart. I think perhaps it comes from having always seen everyone primarily as a package of flaws. Oh, of course as I matured I was well aware of my own flaws and did learn to have mercy on myself, and therefore I would not go around having a cow over everyone's flaws. However, the yearning in me to behold, well, God in all His glory, just always turned me off from getting too familiar with regular ol' people. The contrast was too jarring, too sad. I couldn't stand the constant disappointment.

Then the Lord surprised me and brought me amongst a group of people whom I could trust enough, and be focused elsewhere enough (not on myself -- very important), to completely forget about my reservation. What was this reservation? I think it can be summarized thus: If all this God stuff is real, then He transforms regular Catholics. That is the proof. And I'm afraid I'll never see it. This was no conscious realization. But it seems many people I've talked with, converts at least, have a certain litmus test in their heart that either keeps them cautious or flings wide open the floodgates of their hearts. This was mine. God, if what you say is true, show me in plain ol' garden variety Catholics.

Part of how this litmus test thingy works is, of course, we fear. We hold on to the test, in the package, so to speak, unopened. We fear that we really have been deceived all along, that it is too good to be true. We know it can't be, but dang, that litmus test -- if we actually do it -- is going to show it one way or another. It's going to change things. So for many of us, it takes several years and circumstances out of our own control before heaven is able to slip in and settle (or perhaps stir up!) those fears, and let us actually run the test.

And then one day, when I wasn't concerned about being guarded, without making a big deal out of it, God seemed to pick up my litmus test, rip it open, and dip it into... my parish choir. I remember telling a group of friends at School of Community, in tears, shortly after I joined my parish choir that I knew then that it was all true. All true. All the good things I'd learned in my head over the last 15 years were all true. It was a deep, intuitive ... floodgate opening in my heart. And then I realized there was a weight of glory that had a claim on my life, and that was real, too. This was to change quite a bit.

Why? Because God allowed me to see Him in the faces of plain people who had flaws, failings and weaknesses. He was there. Just like I could perceive Him the in the Eucharist that night of my conversion on Christmas Eve (but that's another story entirely. One story at a time!)



I love the Feast of All Saints, because it gives me a completely new way of looking into the face of every person.

Gearing up for NaBloPoMo

Within the last year or so, Facebook has taken over a lot of my attention and time when it comes to sharing my thoughts, especially the quicker or pithier ones. But tomorrow it will be November, and November is of course "National Blog Posting Month" where decent bloggers everywhere decide that they will show their devotion to their craft and hobby by posting every day. I've done this before, but not lately, and I don't actually recall if I've ever faithfully followed through. But heck, I thought I'd give it a whirl. There's not much better to do in November, anyway, except celebrate Thanksgiving, birthdays, and Advent. Ok, so that's plenty. But, writing can help in all of this by keeping my brain nimble and active, and remembering what day it is. And making the month seem plenty long.

Actually, I've been toying with a theme: Stories I never get tired of telling [Even if I've never told them before]. That's what I'd like to do.

My problem, of course, is having the free time to sit at the computer with the requisite silence to be able to spew my thoughts in any kind of order. If I'm diligent I can carve out time, and diligence is good to develop.

So wish me luck.

God is Good. Believe It.

Our first experience of God is so important; we either experience Him as the police guard that wants to punish or as Creative Love that awaits. Pope Benedict XVI

It seems to me that there are two different ways, perpendicular ways I'd call them, by which we can grieve the heart of our God. I mean, there are many of course, but maybe most of them can be lumped into one of these categories.

First, we can see God as "the hard man," the "demanding person" that Mt. 25:24 mentions. We can see him as the police guard who notices our every fault and who measures us against a standard of behaviour that proves us weak, miserable, flawed. Moreover it can seem that God's role in our lives is to rub our noses in it, to never let us forget that we essentially suck, that we are intrinsically disgusting and revolting, completely incompatible with the Good and the Holy.

This grieves the heart of our God because it neglects the truth that the entire Old Testament set out to teach us: that despite our sin, God's entire intention toward man is to establish relationship. He is burning with love for us and has wooed humanity for thousands of years. He doesn't just want to just excuse His people or pardon us, He wants to marry us. "Even when he disobeyed you and lost your friendship you did not abandon him to the power of death, but helped all men to seek and find you. Again and again you offered a covenant to man, and through the prophets taught him to hope for salvation" (Eucharistic Prayer IV).

The other way, it seems, we can grieve God, is to accept this idea that God's intention is to establish a covenant with us, but to check the reality of it at the door. This is where we "make a pretense of religion but deny its power" (2 Tim. 3:5). This is where we refuse to meet God as He is, not because He seems so terrible but because He seems too good. I can't accept His goodness to me. I don't deserve it.

Perhaps this is where the two errors cross in their perpendicularity. Truth is, we know we are flawed. We know that there is that about us which is not God. We are limited, creatures. We can either beat ourselves up over this fact, or we can embrace it as reality and grasp what it is to mean for us.

I think this is where the faulty thinking arises: When God pours out His riches, and He does, an individual can get a fear like a child being called in the front of the class for a special honor. There's a fear in being singled out. We are never meant to be "singled out," even though this idea can run cross-grain to our American individualism. (In Japan, people instinctively understand this!) There is something horrible that flashes in our intuition when we consider God bestowing some special blessing on just one person. "It's too much; I don't deserve it!" or "What's so freaking special about HER that she gets that?!" if you are the witness rather than the recipient.

God does deal with us as individuals, but everything, everything He gives is for all. What He gives is Himself, and no single creature, nor all of the created universe of time and space together, is equal to Him nor has the capacity to receive His entirety. However, we do not become ourselves fully until we receive Him to the capacity with which we were created. The Church, in fact, is called "the fullness of the one who fills all things in every way" (Eph. 1:23).

The blessings God gives to each one of us are designed to transform us into His own giving image. In other words, to use a sort of lame cliche, we are blessed to become a blessing. This eliminates any "need" for jealousy, because a gift given to one is really given to all. The amazing part is that God trusts us enough to allow us to be custodians of His gifts for others.

Instead of getting all flustered when we see how God has blessed us (this indicates we are self-focused), we need to open our eyes and look about us to see who it is that God has given this blessing for. And then get busy with the joyful work of passing along that which God enables us to give.

Some Quick Thoughts after Grocery Shopping

I like grocery shopping. Really I do. As long as I can do it by myself and it can be sort of a meditative experience, that is. I like reading labels and bargain hunting and all that. It's fun.

One of the things I find myself heightenedly aware of is the music playing overhead. I wonder what it says about the demographic expectations of shoppers in the store at that point. Either Kroger always plays 60s and 70s music, or I'm just in there when the store expects baby boomers. Probably the latter.

Last week I noticed a lady singing happily along with "The Wedding Song," completely uncaring of whether people were listening to her or not. I like that.

Today I had another thought. This song started playing:

which I think is one of the most depressing songs I have ever loved. It is all about a man who find life absolutely unlivable without his love who has walked out of his life.

And it struck me as true and self-evident: all of our desires, all of the longings in our hearts, everything that moves us is ultimately a desire for God. Whether it is a desire for another person, a desire for glory, power, money, attention, accomplishment, simple relief, a good tasting meal, distraction, even irritation, or anything to interrupt the monotony or pain of life, or the complete lack of feeling -- it is all, ultimately a desire for God. It doesn't always look that way because impurity clogs the vision of our desire, and we think we are scratching with our toes in the dirt instead of mining the deepest riches of existence. But it is all a desire for God.

Nilsson sings plaintively because in his mind, that which he longs for is unattainable. And not only in his mind, apparently; the reality of the relationship bears out that he is "without" this love. Yet, he is still living, biologically at least. The longing in his heart points to something else. There is a "living" he wants that he cannot have without.... his longing fulfilled. Yet I suppose there are other songs written about people who attained the sought-after love, only to find that neither did that bring them ultimate satisfaction.

We are made for the Infinite. Only God satisfies. The joyful news is relationship with that one is attainable. When we call out to Him, watch for Him, listen for Him (with humility), we will find that He has been pursuing us all along, and it is our impurity of heart that makes it difficult to see that reality.


"We live our lives by philosophies, amid worldly affairs and occupations that totally absorb us and are a great distance from the manger. In all kinds of ways, God has to prod us and reach out to us again and again, so that we can manage to escape from the muddle of our thoughts and activities and discover the way that leads to him. But a path exists for all of us. The Lord provides everyone with tailor-made signals." Pope Benedict XVI

Fear and Survivalism; Trust and Peace

Recently in conversation with a friend, I was reminded of when the doomsday of Y2K was on everyone's mind. Do you remember it? Several people I respected were in the thick of major purchases and collections as security against the world as we knew it coming to a screeching halt. In the first half of 1999 I was a grad student who was focused on my upcoming wedding; world news wasn't even on my radar screen. But these friends' plans couldn't help but cause me to question whether I also should be concerned. My gut told me I had no vocation to go off the electric grid or learn survival skills. My gut told me they were getting carried away. And even though on occasion I spoke from my gut to these friends, my respect for them somehow left me somehow with a slightly sticky residue of worry on my soul.

Today there is no magic date on which people fixate (oh wait, how could I forget the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012!). But in certain circles survivalist thinking is alive and well. As I recently told a friend who was finding herself similarly stuck as I was in 1999, I have nothing at all against surviving. It's a good idea. I'm even quite interested in the movement toward homesteading, subsistence farming and, yes, going off the grid. But mixed in with these ideals that I consider quite romantic, attractive and brave, I often find a mentality that is simply toxic to the soul.


I think some people choose to go into a deeper-than-the-cultural-norm step into self-sufficiency because they really love hard work. They love the thrill of subduing the earth and causing things to grow and sustaining themselves. I admire that. Some may also have ideals of providing for others or teaching others to love the work they love. This is good.

But there is something more involved when there is toxicity. Sometimes it is blatant, and sometimes it is subtle, but I think part of the something more is the idea that a very intense form of "bucking up," a form few others are taking, is direly necessary. It's the "I'm going to be fine and everyone else will be screwed" sense. I think there is both fear and pride involved. (Of course, fear and pride are involved in just about every human endeavor! Can't be far off!) There can be this sense (and if you read in certain political circles as I do, you'll recognize this) that I am part of the chosen remnant, the last few people who have any sense whatsoever. There is something very ugly in this. It is the sort of thing that provokes insecurity in others who don't want to be left out, and who would actually consider selling their soul for the safety that the hard working bucker up seems to have. There's some esoteric knowledge that seems they have, and surely I will be among the screwed if I don't follow suit, despite my better inclinations. Something in this appeals deeply to human instincts, and offends human sensibilities at the same time.

In this conversation with this friend, I recounted to her the experience that impacted me significantly back in 1999. It was All Saints Day (November 1), and a warm one to boot. The leaves in our local cemetery were at their absolute peak of beauty, and a lady at Mass strongly suggested a walk there. (It's a very park-like atmosphere, I always have to explain to folks who aren't local.) I went, and sat in one of my favorite spots, intending to pray the rosary. As I looked up at the trees. I don't get moved by trees, hardly ever. But I was suddenly stunned to silence, and the words of my prayers seemed almost a profanation of the holiness of the moment. I was overwhelmed by the realization that this stunning beauty was created by God, and funny little creatures like squirrels were scurrying around it in, as their home. They weren't paralyzed by anxiety. They weren't panicking over their acorn quotas. They were glorifying God by being the creatures they were created to be, expressing their "thanks" in simple living. I knew that even when they died, they would die as God's creatures. It struck me, hard, how silly it was for us to be anxious over Y2K and our lives. There is beauty that is far more than a tree, and there is life that is far more than gathering acorns (or survivalist supplies). I knew that for me to worry over these things was to cut the Author of Beauty right out of the story of my life. And if I did that.... what would there be?!

None of this is to say that hard times do not come to squirrels or trees or people. Suffering and death are asked from us. And there is nothing wrong with trying to shield one's family from suffering and providing for them. But what is our real need and the ultimate provision? There are millions who live in physical want daily. How many more millions live in want of Beauty, even amidst physical plenty?

"Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you as well." (Mt. 6:33) As Rich Mullins reminds us, the things God promises to add including making sure we "dress like flowers and eat like birds!" What is it I really need and desire? The punchline of this life is that this life is not the punchline. It is eternity. Which, of course, starts here and now. So, how do we store up for ourselves treasure in heaven? (Mt. 6:20) God has promised us "Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you" (Heb. 13:5). With that promise of provision, the provision of God's presence, my life is secure. I trust this to be true because I've seen it borne out in my life. So I can testify to my friend that it is true, just as others who lived it before me testified to me that it is true.

Life is rough, and this is how we need to remind and encourage one another.

Hearing John Waite's "Missing You" after 26 years

The other night I was wandering around You Tube, as I often rather enjoy doing. I like to listen to songs I liked as a kid, or simply songs I would not be likely to hear anywhere else. But the other night I happened to remember and look up a song that was my favorite during my Senior year in high school. It shook me just a bit to hear it again. (Embedding is disabled, but here is the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9e157Ner90&ob=av2e)

Musically, the song is not very impressive. Even at the time I didn't like it for any impressive musical quality. I thought the singer was cute, but that was probably an after-thought. I liked it because it was the mirror of my soul. I suppose that's why it was a bit troubling to hear it again, to revisit my soul as it was.

The lyrics reflect a confused, hurting, broken, angry, cynical, isolated and hardened man who both bemoans the loss of his love, but insists over and over that he does not miss her. Even the title, "Missing You," reveals the confusion, because he always sings "ain't missing you!"

I loved this song back in 1984 because it put my soul into words. There was no boy in my life that merited all this confusion, though. This song was popular right around the time that I first started to admit the effect that my father's alcoholism had had on my life, which I wrote about here. Like the character in the song, I was a pile of confused pain as a result. I loved my dad, but all I was in touch with was pain and cynical anger towards him.

The poignancy of seeing the video again, I think, was in seeing how it ends with a near-miss of a hopeful and happy reunion. Buried under all the pain the character expresses, there is this glimmer of hope that the viewers see even though the characters don't. I am sure it was that tiny glimmer that made this song so attractive to me (not just John Waite's red hair!). Somehow this song allowed me to tap into my longing just a tiny bit, to express my anger quite a bit, and to hope that somehow there was hope.

Back in the day, this song was like a saving grace to me. I am so deeply grateful that in the 26 years since then I have experienced so many more true and lasting graces that have healed my pain, my cynicism, my anger, and have turned my longing towards the One for whom my soul was made.

"If you trust God, then suffering is viewed more simply..."

On the first of every month, our Lord gives Anne a new message about His call to service.October 1, 2010

Jesus

My dear apostles, you are proceeding through your time on earth amidst many changes. Exteriorly, there is a great deal of motion and upset, which affects God’s children. Some are affected negatively and some are affected positively. Who is affected positively when there is suffering? I ask you this because I want you to view suffering from the perspective of one who trusts in God and trusts in God’s plan for all of His children. If you trust God, then suffering is viewed more simply, whether it is your suffering or the suffering of those around you. If you are suffering, then you are called to endure, but not without God and not without God’s grace. If someone near you is suffering, then you are called to offer compassion and even assistance if possible.  You have the grace to understand your role and to understand your response, whether in your own suffering or in the suffering of those around you. In every experience in life, temptation is possible. If all is going well for you, then you may be tempted to become complacent about your response to the many graces I give you. I would prefer that during times of relative ease, you praise Me and be alert to helping others. If all is not going well, there may be a temptation to believe that your prayers are not heard by God. I would prefer that you use these times to practice trusting Me. Offer your suffering to Me with a heart that shares My experience willingly, not resentfully. Dear apostles, we are together, you and I. The unity we share was always intended by the Father. All is well. Do not be tempted against Me if you are suffering. I will never leave you and I will use your suffering in ways you do not understand yet. You will understand later and you will be so grateful to Me because I offered you these learning experiences. Rejoice. I am always with you.