Storms

An earthquake on Tuesday and a rain/wind weather event from Hurricane Irene on Saturday.  It has been an eventful weather week in the DC area.  During the past 24 hours, I don’t think I’ve had a conversation that hasn’t referenced the storm.  The news media has done nothing except play on our human fears, causing people to buy far more water, batteries and peanut butter than they will need in the coming year.  (I’m just thankful that they didn’t know the earthquake was coming.)

However, another event, with only a local impact, will most likely affect my life more than either of these events over the next months.  On Friday, I learned that a parish member, who has several young children, has ovarian cancer.  While we hear about all types of cancer in the news and are bombarded with requests to support cancer research, somehow when someone I know is diagnosed, cancer is spelled with a capital “C”.  Having lost my grandma, for whom I was named, and both parents to cancer, the news evokes all kinds of emotions. 

It makes me realize that it is time to get on my knees and pray for this family, as well as offer assistance with things like transportation, childcare and meals.  The forecasters of the outcome of this storm will not be meteorologists, but a variety of oncologists and their colleagues.   Family and friends at times will feel helpless, but those who trust in Christ and ask, “His will be done”, will not be hopeless.  Whatever the outcome of this storm, the suffering endured will create many blessings. 

When I think of the event of the past week, I realize that I must trust in Jesus.   No matter how unexpected or frightening the storm, I must believe that He knows what He is doing.  No matter how sorrowful or joyful the event, it is what I need at this moment.  Even when I would rather not hunker down, waiting for Irene to arrive or to hear of the illness of a friend, there is a reason for the event.

On this Monday morning, the weather forecast is for sunny, clear skies for the next few days.  The effects of the earthquake and Irene will soon be forgotten.  My fellow parish member and her family are adjusting to the unexpected news and assessing the next steps.  It is trust in our great and mighty Lord that will take us through this day and beyond. 

For Better or For Worse

Three weeks ago today, my husband walked me down the hall from his father’s hospice room to the elevator.  I had brought his mom to the hospital in the morning and spent a good part of the day with the two of them.  His dad was in renal failure and we knew his time on earth was short.  My husband was spending the night in his dad’s room and then I would take the early shift on Friday morning.

We walked the hushed hall as we watched health care professionals moving quietly from room to room taking care of their patients, sometimes speaking quietly to family members.  We whispered about what the afternoon and evening would bring. Would our 14-year-old son want to come visit his grandfather again, or would he want to remember his last handshake and smile from his granddad two days ago?  We needed to know if his mom wanted to see his dad before his body was taken to the funeral home if he died without her in the hospital.  Who did we need to call to give an update on his father’s condition? The list seemed to go on and on.

We reached the elevator and my husband gave me a huge hug and kiss.  He thanked me for all that I have done for his family as he hugged me tightly. I kissed him again and he headed down the hallway.  Before he took his third step, I called his name, shrugged and said, “For better or worse, right?”

How those words have echoed in my mind in the past three weeks.  The quiet of waiting for dad to pass was like a restful respite that turned into a flurry of activity after his father died less than a day after that conversation.  Calling friends and relatives to let them know that this great man had passed into his eternal rest, making final funeral arrangements, confirming with family and friends their travel arrangements,   cleaning house and finding time to grieve filled ours days immediately after his death.

My husband and I seemed to spend little time together, we divided the duties, and each helped to take care of his mom, brothers, uncles and our son.  The funeral mass was a needed time to pray and heal. The wake was a great time of celebration of a well-lived life.

Since that day, I had a serious fall and thought I might have broken a rib, we hosted Dave’s niece and children and showed them the great sites of Washington, Baltimore and Philadelphia, experienced a 5.8 earthquake and sent our son off to high school.

Last night, we finally took some time to sit and talk about all that has happened this month.  As I crawled into bed, I thought, “for better or for worse”, that is what makes our marriage so strong.  Certainly, I did not fully understand those words when I spoke them nearly 17 years ago. I am thankful that we are able to live them each day.    

My Heart is Restless

It has been a hectic and emotional August for my family.  On August 1^st, we learned that my father in law’s kidneys had worn out.  Dialysis was not an option and this funny, strong, loving man was transferred into hospice care for the remaining days of his life.  Jim and Dave’s mom had been living with us for the past two years, so he was a member of our immediate family. 

His death on August 5^th, and burial and wake on the 9^th created a whirlwind of activity: planning, praying, cleaning, hosting out of town family members and grieving.   On Tuesday morning, I awoke after a restless night of sleep, feeling spent.  As I opened my eyes and rolled over in bed, at the 5:30 am alarm, I was very tempted to close my eyes and go to sleep.  But, if I wanted to celebrate the Eucharist today, I had to make the 6:30 morning mass.

With all of the chaos, my prayer life had been inconsistent and I hadn’t journaled in several days.  I had misplaced my daily prayer book, so I reached for my phone , found the daily office site and prayed the morning prayers to begin my day.

On the drive to church, I listened to a CD of songs by Beata, a group of young women whom I had babysat more than 15 years ago.  The fourth song is St. Augustine’s prayer.  I was humming that song as I entered the church just as mass was beginning:  My heart searches restlessly and finds no rest ‘til it rests in Thee.

 It was the feast day of St. Stephen, a  King of Hungry.  The priest’s homily focused on the difference that his life made for the people of Hungry both in the past and today.  And that each one of our lives can make a difference. Certainly a thought worth pondering.

I found a quiet in the prayers of the liturgy and after mass, settled down to pray about today’s readings.  But the prayer of St. Augustine continued to replay itself in my mind: My ceaseless longings hid the deeper truth and  in all my desirings, I was desiring you. 

Of course, I thought with a sense of relief.  That is the answer.  My days had been spent in activity and I had not found time to simply be in the presence of God.  My restless night’s sleep might have been more peaceful if I had just turned my thoughts to the Lord, instead of being worried about what the morning would bring.

As I end my day, I am taking some extra time to read a couple of my favorite chapters of Luke and to just be in His presence.  St. Augustine really did have it right, unless that God shaped hole is filled, I am restless.  “Oh Seeker you sought for me. Your love has found me I am taken by Thee.”

 Word in italics are from a song titled the Prayer of St. Augustine.  I cannot find an attribute to credit.

Not Today!

It is Thursday morning and I want to be all about efficiency today.  It feels like Tuesday to me, as we said our final goodbyes to my father in law, Jim earlier this week. Since he went into hospice, 10 days ago, I have simply been surviving.  Multiple phone calls and e-mails to family members and friends about his health, meetings with the funeral home and the priest, house cleaning for guests, and grocery shopping so we could feed guests were among the myriad of tasks that have absorbed the last few days.

I have greeted and grieved with family and friends and prayed for the strength to make it though these days. I haven’t slept well, and know that I haven’t spent the time I need to with God to identify and recognize the avalanche of blessings that have been showered on our families in the past few days,  because of the incredibly generosity of Jim’s life.

I arose at 5:00 this morning to begin my day, because I had determined that it is time to “get back to normal”.  At 6:30, I was at daily mass and as I bowed my head in prayer, I asked God to make me efficient today.  My prayer was something like, “Lord, I am so far behind and have so much writing to do.  Let me write quickly and efficiently so that I can check things off my list.”  I barely said the prayer when I had this vivid image of God the Father shaking his wise head no.  His answer was something like, “No my child.  Efficiency is not what you will get today, because it is not what you need.”

I raised my head and smiled at the crucifix as I realized that efficiency is not what I need today.  I thanked God for this blessing and spent some extra time in prayer after the Eucharistic celebration asking Him to give me what I need. 

This encounter reminded me that what I need most is to lean on Him and let Him lead me though my days.  And I realize that this is one of the blessings that I have received over the past week, although I believed I was in survival mode, I was allowing Him to guide my actions. 

As I complete this writing, I can only smile, almost giggle at His great love for this imperfect soul, who is so pleased to be finished with this post, because it is something that I can check off my list!

The Luna Moth

This world overflows with creepy-crawly things that in my everyday life generally go unnoticed.  I have become more than familiar enough with the beetles that eat my roses.  My first discovery of them, I was horrified of them and thought them ugly.  After more than 15 years of rose gardening, I think they have their own beauty.  After two decades of gardening, I am tolerant but generally not fond of the vast assortment of the creepy-crawly things. 

Boy Scout camp enhances my awareness of the creepy-crawly things.  The common flies, ants and mosquitoes exist at camp, but it is the diversity of moths, beetles and spiders that enthrall and mesmerize me.  I was not to be disappointed during the week at camp earlier this month.

 Daddy long-legs kept me company in my tent at night, in the latrine, the shower and most any place that I decided to sit.  While I am an admirer of the daddy-long legs, when one decided to make my cot his place to sleep during the day, I escorted him out of my tent unceremoniously!  

The creepy-crawly things are not my favorite part of camp, yet I become fascinated at the variety of these creatures that exist in God’s kingdom.  I tell myself that they exist for a purpose and that they are more afraid of me than I am of them (HA!).

One hot and muggy afternoon, I finally managed to sneak in a shower while the scouts were busy canoeing, climbing, hiking and creating interesting pieces of art.  It felt good to wash off layers of insect repellent, perspiration and dirt. With my personal hygiene complete, I stopped outside the shower house to put on my shoes.

My attention was drawn to something green on the wall.  It was large, about the span of my and from thumb to pinky.   A closer look made me think it was a moth of some sort.  If it was a moth, it was by far, the largest that I had ever seen.  Its wings were substantial, not feathery looking like a normal moth.  It has a tale almost 2/3 of an inch long.  I got as close as I dare and took a picture.  Could it be a pre-historic moth of sorts, I thought as I scurried down the path to the campsite.  I thanked God for the chance to see this beautiful creature.  In the hast of life, even at camp, I managed to stop and admire an exotic and remarkable creepy-crawly thing of some sort.

Every time I took a shower for the rest of the week, I looked for the moth, but didn’t see it. Near the end of the week, I glimpsed the sight of another one of these marvelous creatures.  This one appeared to be injured.  It was trying to move its wings, but was not able to fly away.  Like most insects, it would probably die soon.  I learned from a Scouter who was passing the same way that it was a Luna moth.

Later, I learned that the Luna moth is nocturnal, attracted to light (does it try to fly to the moon?) and it is quite common in the Eastern United States.  While the moth may be a common insect, the mystery of my encounter with it was not diminished.   My encounter with this beautiful creature is one of the highlights of my week at Scout camp this year.  Moreover, a good reminder, in the haste of a busy, hectic life, to take a deep breath and thank God for all of the beautiful, wonderful things on this earth – even the creepy-crawly things.

               

Hot as Hades!

There isn’t any way to get away from it. The news has been broadcasting its coming for days.  The local convenience store is out of ice. A car in front of me had all of the windows down and the driver was opening the door at each traffic light, to try to keep cool. Even Face Book friends are commenting on it.  When you to outside, you walk into a wall of heat.    

Accommodations are being made for the heat.  One friend’s company cancelled work because of the number of employees who take the bus, the Metro and walk. My sister is working from home.  At 6:30 am this morning, I saw a man mowing a lawn.  Camps are adjusting schedules to keep children safe. 

My act of defiance today is to wear snowman earrings. They don’t keep me any cooler, but they make we smile!

Yes, it is hot. It is also mid-summer in Washington DC.  The thought occurred to me that this three-day intense annoyance of hot, sticky weather can’t begin to compare the misery and agony of Hell.  I don’t often think about the details of an eternal life in Hell, but on this afternoon, those details were on my mind.

I recently purchased the Letters of St. Boniface (priest in the 7^th century) from a used bookstore, not being able to resist the bargain and the opportunity to read letters from the 600’s.  The second letter in the book was very disturbing, if not also captivating to read.  It reiterated the “Vision of a monk at Wenlock”. In this vision, the monk describes hell, purgatory and heaven.  Phrases like, “unspeakable groaning and weeping of souls in distress”, “pitch-black fiery river, boiling and glowing”, and “undying flames that torture forever” were used to by the monk to describe Hell.  This is what came to mind when I thought of that place of eternal damnation on this 100-degree day.

We want to believe in a benevolent and all loving God.  He does want us to love Him in the way that He loves us.  That means conforming our will to His.  He asks us to do this in spite of our society that encourages each of us to do what we want, when we want, no matter what effect it has on others.  None of us wants to recognize that following our will has consequences that could result in an eternal life away from God, which includes “undying flames” and a “fiery river”.

On this stifling day in our nation’s capital, I couldn’t help but pray for forgiveness for my sins, asking Him for help in doing His will, and thanking Him that this heat wave will only last a couple of days, not forever.

A Dark Forest

I spent last week at Goshen Scout Reservation – not because I love to sleep on a cot with a tent full of insects all week – but to assist the Boy Scouts in tracking their advancement. This job comes with all the amenities of camp – sleeping in tents, trips to the latrine in the middle of the night, and the need for flashlights and lanterns when the sun sets.  I am not an experienced camper and faced many challenges during the week.

Late in the afternoon of the second day of camp, we experienced a torrential rainstorm.  A river began to run through the adult campsite.  Our Boy Scouts gained great joy and satisfaction in coming to the rescue of the adults by building a dam of rocks and logs that diverted the water into the woods.  After dinner and the retiring of flags, adults had a “crackerbarrel”. (In Scout language, it is a get together with snacks.)  The events of the day had taken a toll on my mind and my body and I decided to go back to camp before my fellow leaders.

I carefully walked alone from the pavilion, past the commissary and halted as I was about to walk into the forest.  My journey so far had been in the dark, but there were lights on the buildings, so I had assistance of some light other than my flashlight.  I took one step on the path into the forest and hesitated.

“I can’t,” was my thought as my heart began to race and I felt a shiver of fear race up my back.  It was pitch black – as dark as I had ever experienced. Holding my flashlight horizontally, I couldn’t see our campsite. I couldn’t see the bridge that I had to cross.  I couldn’t even see down the hill.  When I shined the light at my feet, I could only see two, maybe three steps ahead.

This novice camper was about to run back to the safety of the crackerbarrel when a sudden surge of courage descended on me. I cautiously took one step at a time, into the forest, down the rocky path that lead to the bridge.  As I carefully navigated my way, I was suddenly struck by the thought that this experience was a reflection of one of my biggest challenges in walking with Christ.

By focusing systematically, allowing the flashlight to show me just the next step in my journey, I had all that I needed to safely reach my campsite.  Similarly, in life, the Lord gives me all that I need to take the next step.  But, I want to see the big picture and want to know where I am going.  Our Lord is with me every day, showing me the next step, but much of my day is spent thinking or worrying about next week, next month, next year and on and on.  As I crossed the bridge and began walking up the path to the campsite, I felt more confident and was not frightened during the final phase of the adventure.

Entering the campsite, I was still reflecting on the similarity of being guided by a flashlight and being guided by God. I must have needed to have the message reinforced. As I entered the camp, I shone the flashlight upward, creating a shadow that frightened me enough that I threw my arms up in the air and let my flashlight fly into the dark.  It fell under a tent platform. I had to get on my hands and knees, in the mud, and reach as far as I could to retrieve the flashlight.  As my fingers strained to grasp the flashlight, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation.  If I had kept the flashlight on the ground, I wouldn’t be retrieving my only light source from the mud. I pictured the Lord shaking his head, wondering how many times I was going to need to learn this lesson.

Then, I stood up and realized that I had left my backpack at the crackerbarrel.  “I won’t forget this evening,” I thought as I turned around and headed down the path in the dark.  This time, I knew that my flashlight was all that I needed and I enjoyed the walk though the dark forest.