Sunday, December 20, 2009

How Strange

In the early morning dark and drizzle I arrived, went inside and knelt down. I couldn’t muster the fortitude to say any prayers, I was just there physically. I troubled about this becoming an early bird’s meaningless habit. It didn’t feel special. Yet, I knew it should be an important event. I sorta daydreamed though the opening prayers and first reading. Father read from Matthew’s Gospel…about the birth of Jesus. The same old story so many times I had heard. Mary betrothed but not yet married to Joseph…She turns up pregnant…Joseph starts to bail…some angel in his dream tells him that; the Holy Spirit did it and the kid would be call Emmanuel, a.k.a. “God with us”. I couldn’t help but think how strange this all would be today. I couldn’t help but think how strange our God is. Why would God do this? What if I were in Joseph’s shoes/sandals? How would I react? How much stranger this must have been two thousand years ago when you were stoned to death for being “with child” out of wedlock. That would be a bummer.
As my mind wondered and wandered…I came-to during the consecration. Some little voice inside of me said, “Just go with it…no matter how strange or mysterious it all seems.” That’s when an overwhelming gorge of gratitude served up with a large portion of unworthiness smothered in endless mercy choked me up and rendered me speechless. The words would not come out as I moved my lips, “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us”.

Thank you, Father God for being so strange/
For You have the power that makes me change/
Thank you, Lord Jesus for being with us/
For this indeed is worth the fuss/
Amen.




Log entry dated 12-18-2009

Friday, December 11, 2009

Not The Night Before Christmas Story

I sat dumbfounded, hands frozen to the steering wheel, as a result of the deafening noise and violent crash that rocked my wife’s faded and dated little Honda. The car stopped in the middle of the street in front of my next door neighbor’s house as I verbalized an automatic expletive. I recall seeing Blitzen’s nose pressed up against the windshield with a startled look on his face. Before I could gather my thoughts; he Dasher-ed off…imitating a Dancer or a Prancer…with the speed of a Vixen-ed Comet. We watched…aided by the light of our high beams, in stunned silence…as Cupid Donner-ed his attempt to escape unnoticed. When I regained my composure, I got out to investigate the possibility of a sled embedded in the right front fender…or worse a dead body dressed in a red suit. But no…there was nothing…nothing but a thoroughly crushed quarter panel. We had been the victims of a hit and run. The perpetrator had left the scene neither leaving his insurance info nor his phone number. Where is Rudolph with his red nose when you need him? I got back in the car to hear my wife announce “I’m getting a new car tomorrow.”

And so it came to pass…after more that a year of driving me nuts with her indecision…and with questions like “which car should I get?” she did it. She made a decision…all by herself…she got the silver one.

Thank you, Lord, for sending a sign
For this is a prayer that has been mine
Thank you, Lord, she made up her mind
In this my Lord you are infinitely kind
Amen.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

By Association

I was invited to a wedding by virtue of the fact that I was married to the mother of the groom’s sister’s best friend. My acceptance by association is very much a pattern I’ve notice throughout my married life and a blessing I acknowledge.

As I sat listening to the reader recount Paul’s dissertation on love from the first letter to the Corinthians…I couldn’t help but wonder what was going though the groom’s head. This made me think of the day I was front and center…saying; “I do”…to what I didn’t understand. The past becomes clearer when looking at it from the present or examining it though the hour glass of time. According to Paul love is kind, not jealous, does not put on airs, and is not snobbish. Love is never rude, not self-seeking, is not prone to anger; does not brood over injuries. In retrospect…if that’s the case…it would be hard to argue that I had love on my mind. Another “L” word may have been more applicable…perhaps
…“Lust” with a capital L.

Now…I suspect D.P. (Divine Providence) had a lot to do with all of this…for I am convinced that God knows what I need…I only know what I want.

I have come to recognize the fact I could not have picked a more suitable partner than the wife God has given me.

Thank you, Lord, for fulfilling my every need
Thank you, Lord, for this indeed
Thank you, Lord, for this today
Thank you, Lord, for this I pray
Amen

Blind

A full moon hung in the jet black sky of the early morning chill as I pedaled around the puddles left by yesterday’s rain. It was the first morning I had been able to ride my bike since Thanksgiving. I envisioned the congealed tryptophan in my arteries slowing the flow of blood to my brain…this made it difficult to process any cognitive thoughts. After several miles of repetitive contracting and relaxing of my femoris quadriceps the slow burn eventually heated my entire body. I became so warm that I had to unzip my windbreaker and remove my sox hat. Finally I coasted into the parking lot, dismounted my bicycle, and bounded up the front steps. I opened the large bronze doors and entered. Immediately the moisture in the warm air condensed on my cold spectacles blinding me. I felt my way up the aisle, genuflected and knelt down. It seemed futile to wipe off the lenses as the cold glass would just condense more moisture…I wanted to pray and meditate anyway. Besides I did not need to be looking around with my judgmental eye making inaccurate or hypocritical assessments of anyone else. It was a nice change just listening to the opening prayers and the readings. Interestingly, the temperature of my eyeglasses rose above the dew point just as the gospel was read, allowing the moisture to evaporate. I could not help but think…“It is Christ’s words that allow me to see clearly.” Maybe this would not qualify as a miracle…but, for sure…it is a nice reminder of the awesome power that is in the Word of God.

Thank you, Lord, for the little reminders.
Thank you, Lord, for removing my blinders.
Thank you, Lord, for allowing the blind to see.
Thank you, Lord, most especially from me.
Amen



Journal entry
30 November 2009

Monday, November 30, 2009

With Liberty and Justice for All

I sat in the Grand Jury Chambers along with eleven other citizens listening to the testimonies, hearsay and reports…listening to the most outrageous, twisted, and illogical stories. There was conflicting information from the victims, alleged perpetrators, and witnesses…all attempting to rationalize the facts surrounding the most despicable, appalling, and wicked criminal acts known to man. For the most part…while my head was swimming in an ocean of irrational details and conflicting statements …my heart knew that the cases needed to be pursued in the hope that justice might be served. Admittedly, some cases don’t seem very serious or felonious but in all instances the accused should have been indicted for aggravated stupidity. You’d think these people would desire some kind of peace and tranquility in their lives. The thought of constant turmoil, the idea of each day being filled with chaos and mayhem is inconceivable to me.

As Judge Kelly so aptly put it…“This is where the people of the day meet the people of the night”. Benjamin Franklin said, “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise”. Perhaps healthy, wealthy, and wise is a bit of a stretch but at least it keeps you out of the bars…where, it seems, most of the problems start.

I came away with the feeling that our justice system may not necessarily be totally just or fair but it’s the best we have in the absence of God himself sorting it all out (which eventually will happen). Personally, at that point, I will be pleading for mercy; not justice.

Dear, Lord Jesus, please give me the wisdom and courage to do what is right and just.
And please, Lord, if I am ever brought up on charges of being a Christian…then please, please let there be enough evidence to convict me.
Amen.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Thank God for Thanksgiving

An eerie silence fell over the entire house as my son’s SUV backed out of the driveway. Three days of entertaining, corralling and cajoling grandchildren had come to an abrupt end. A feeling of regret and relief while caught up in the reflections of my own childhood washed over me as I unconsciously murmured the words “it’s not fair”.

Perhaps old age faded my recall and the passing of time dulled my memory. In my mind’s journal I recall living through childhood with a bit less intensity. I don’t remember the green beans or other vegetables being quite so annoying and vile to my juvenile pallet. I don’t remember it mattering if the green beans touched the mashed potatoes. Although…I have vivid memories of liver being totally inedible…and I remember refusing to eat it irregardless of the consequences. I remember the resulting irresolvable dispute and conflict…and…I remember going to bed without supper. But the sun came up the following morning and life went on. To this day I believe liver should not be permitted in any food group and only allowed to exist for the resoling of shoes. And there were other impossible, inescapable, irresolvable situations…those caused by a knee jerk answer…which any parent will get when they ask the wrong question, (i.e. “Did you do that?”) There is one and only one answer to that question. An emphatic “NO”…and once you’ve gone on record you simply cannot change your answer. It is not the admission of guilt that is so bad…but…“ipso facto” admitting to being a liar. That would be totally unacceptable by any childhood standards. So, again with unwavering obstinacy I would stick to my story even in the face of such threats as being “burned at the stake” or “dipped in boiling oil”. Perhaps my childhood was a bit more intense than I recall. I am certain I challenged my parents’ patience to the very core and for that I apologize. “Sorry Mom and Dad”.

It was a great weekend filled with launching model rockets into outer space, chasing each other around the house and playing trampoline dodge ball…all punctuated with screams of “do it again” and “it’s my turn”. The fun and games only ended once blood was drawn and first aid administered.

Their endless energy is truly amazing…if there were only some way to capture this renewable resource. And to think that all this energy is generated with no vegetables and only small amounts of Mac and Cheese, Pizza, and an occasional hot dog.

Thank you, Father God, for allowing us to survive an intense Thanksgiving
Thank you, Lord Jesus, for children and grandchildren to share Thanksgiving with
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for no stitches, no trips to the emergency room and hopefully no permanent psychological damage.
Amen

Monday, November 23, 2009

Are We There Yet?

As a child I remember the hours of excruciating boredom spent in the back seat of my parents’ car with my three siblings. Each year we made the two thousand mile pilgrimage from California to our grandparents’ homes in Louisiana…each of us asking the same question over and over and over, “When are we going to be there?”

The same exact trip was far more stimulating when I…finally…got to drive. The hours of monotony became hours of endless excitement…wondering what lay beyond the next curve. I would dream of incredible high speed adventures, dream of life on the road, and revel in the excitement of the open highway. Nothing compared to the thrill of finding a series of Burma-Shave roadside signs with their words of wit and lofty blue-blood poetry like: My Job Is---Keeping Faces Clean---And Nobody Knows---De Stubble--- I’ve Seen---Burma-Shave. Or: These Signs---We Gladly---Dedicate---To Men Who’ve Had--- No Date Of Late---Burma-Shave.

I couldn’t help but think that life is just like that…you can sit in the back seat and keep asking “are we there yet?”, or you can get in the front seat and participate in the adventure. I also liken it to church going. You can just sit there looking at your watch asking yourself “when will this be over?”, or you can decide to participate. Participate in the fullness of the sacrifice on the cross and take charge of where you are going. For this is the most important road trip of your life. I looked at my watch for forty two years before I decided to pull out the road map and actually decide where I was headed. The journey is sooo much better when you know your destination. The hour spent in church is just a much needed pit stop in this all important road race…to insure that everything is ready to roll.

I no longer need to know when I'm going to get there, I just need to be gassed up and ready to go.

Thank you, Father God, for the book of directions.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all the helpful roadside signs
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for the jump start whenever I need it
Amen

Drip, Drip, Drip

I sat and listened to the steady lull of the rain as it fell on the roof…it had a most calming effect and soothed my innermost being. It was the perfect background for meditating and praying. I was at my weekly early Friday morning appointment with the Blessed Sacrament. I was in the perfect place, at the perfect time of the day, in the presence of The All Perfect. But then came the drip, drip, drip from a leak in the roof. As each drop impacted the plastic bucket with a deafening clamor…I was startled at how annoying the sound of a tiny drop of water was...the same drops that were so relaxing as they hit the roof. I couldn’t help but think of “water torture” and wonder how long I would last. I couldn’t imagine making it more that a few minutes without going into a Donald Duck spastic fit…sound effects and all. I thought of water boarding, then of terrorist, then of suicide bombers. I wondered if they were crazy or if they just had that much passion for their faith, however misguided it might be. If in fact they did have that kind of passion…it seemed mine might be a bit lacking. Where is my passion? Where is my commitment? Where is my courage? Maybe I’m still in training? Maybe it’s not my turn yet?

Dear Lord Jesus, train me to be more than the drip I am.
Please Lord, flood me with faith, drown me with passion, and cover me with courage.
Make me into who You want me to be.
Amen

Friday, November 20, 2009

Sequestered

As I reclined on the couch the steady drone of a TV hummed in the background. I reflected over the last three days as my eyelids slowly moved to the closed position. It had been a long and thought provoking weekend. I was fortunate to be one of the twelve that spent three days sequestered in a remote isolated place…away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. When I first heard of this place I thought it was a campsite near and dear to the owner’s heart because he referred to it as, “Dear Camp”. Later I discovered it was a base camp he used for hunting deer, hence the name, “Deer Camp”. The English language can be so confusing…especially for me. Not to digress…the twelve of us gathered together to fast and pray for the success of a concurrent ACTS retreat involving nearly one hundred other men.
We all gathered each day for morning, mid morning, noon, afternoon, evening and night prayers in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. At all other times we held vigil adoring Our Lord and Savior in shifts. Around the clock, in a little room with its walls cover by white sheets to camouflage its normal use, we prayed, meditated and just hung out with God.
Each day we would fast until evening then would take our nourishment from a bowl of soup or some sea urchins and vegetables boiled in water. I must admit…either the food was 4-Star quality or I was very hungry…possibly both.
Late one night as the clock hands approached midnight my prayer partner and I sat in silent adoration…my eyes struggled to stay opened… my mind shrouded in a thick fog, my belly full from the meal…I struggled to process any cognitive thoughts.
I wondered if this was how the apostles felt on that fateful Thursday night in the garden of Gethsemane.
I stared at the golden monstrance, I stared at its contents, and while my heart told me this should be a goose-bump moment…my brain questioned how could this really be God?
I whispered my faith questioning concern to my prayer partner. He admitted at times he also had similar questions, but explained that while his brain had questions…his heart had faith...and in his heart he knew it was God. Later, I searched the bible, in vain, for the word “brain”. I could not find “brain”, not even once, in either the Old or New Testament. I also looked for the word “heart” and found it mentioned over thirty three times. That’s interesting!
I suppose my brain is necessary for those mundane math problems and basic motor skills but it would be better to live by my heart…where God makes known the truth without confusion or question.
Thank you, Father God, for a wonderful wondrous world, an incredible weekend Desert Retreat and eleven brothers to spend it with.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, for another 100 men who learned a little more about You and Your awesome love for us.
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for a heart that trumps all those tricks played by my brain.
Amen.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Bunkbeds

My arms and legs strained and struggled as I climbed onto the top bunk…one of several bunks at the old camp house known as “deer camp”. I recalled the same straining and struggling as a child…back then the problem was not old age but the lack thereof. I always had the top bunk; my younger brother always got the bottom. Probably my parents did this for safety reasons. I remember pleading, “It’s not fair”. That was the common rebuttal used in response to most of my parent’s edicts, rules and household proclamations. But it did no good as my brother remained younger than I...even to this day.

My father built those bunkbeds from a sheet of plywood and left over wall studs. There was no inner spring and only a simple thin mattress supported by the plywood. I am sure that the Serta Company would have classified it as “extra super firm”. It was completely off the Sleep Number scale. But at the age of six it was most comfortable and at that time the term “back pain” was not in my vocabulary.

Now my son has built his sons bunkbeds…beautiful bunkbeds out of redwood. How interesting to discover those tiny threads that string life together…those threads that tie generation to generation.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for those wonderful memories from childhood.
Thank you, Lord, for my children and my children’s children
Please watch over all these children until the day we bunk in Your camp.
Amen

Monday, November 9, 2009

Cowboys and Indians

As children we played Cowboys and Indians, good guys and bad guys. Our weapons were a pointed index finger, a wooden stick or…if you were lucky…the coveted cap gun (which required no additional sound effects). Ideally you would be the oldest or biggest and would get to make the rules. Younger and smaller brothers, sisters and assorted children from the neighborhood made up the band of Indians or bad guys. They were required to die immediately upon being shot while you could take countless hits without even flinching. Much time was spent shouting, “I got you” and arguing over who shot who first…it was great fun chasing each other around until Mom called us in for supper.

As a teenager it became a fight, a fight with my hormones. It was no longer “a make believe battle”…it was real…the small bands of bad guys became hoards screaming heathens. Will power was my only weapon I had...and I had no clue how to use it. I always felt so outnumbered and they seemed to win more times than not.

Now I am older…much older…and it seems there are not as many of “them” but they still lie in wait to ambush me on occasion. It is much easier to defend myself now…most of the time I just role over and play dead and they quickly lose interest in tormenting me.

Dear Lord Jesus,
Thanks for getting me through those difficult years without completely self-destructing.
Now I realize that You were there…even when I completely ignored you.
Please give me the courage, the strength and the wisdom to acknowledge You… especially in fights with the bad guys.

Amen

On The Wagon?

This last week I have “fallen off the wagon” the spiritual wagon…so to speak…as I have not made it to morning mass one single time. I would like to blame it on the “time change” but that logic does not hold water…as I should be getting up an hour earlier but no…I can’t even get up an hour later. Maybe it is some systemic poisoning from the Halloween candy as I spent the entire weekend trying to empty a huge bowl of every sort of nasty candy known to man. In the past there were always trick-er-treater’s to help me but not this year. I shouldered the entire job…all…by…myself. Maybe I am too busy with all the jobs I have to do “when I have time” as they put it. The problem is I don’t have time to do everything I need to do with the little bit of precious time there is. There’s no way I ever get to it “when I have time”. So I have to do it now…because I will never ever have the time. Well that excuse won’t work either…it’s too confusing.

I need to stop and get my priorities prioritized, get my life in order and order in my life. It is strange and scary how easy it is to get off track. And how extremely difficult it is to put the train back on the tracks once it jumps off. So, I better go to bed early and get rested up, so I can climb back on the wagon tomorrow morning.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving me a leg up.
Thank you for your patience and understanding.
Please give me the strength to stay on the wagon for the long haul.
Amen.

Today

I drove up on the job as the rigging crew removed the large shipping crate from the new piece of equipment. The truck driver with his bulbous nose and chin, wearing the clothes he had apparently slept in, probably slept in his truck, inquired as to how I was. I answered with my knee jerk response “excellent” and automatically inquired “how are you?” To which he answered “the best day of my life”. I fumbled for a retort as this was not what I expected. Usually you get the standard “I am terrible”, “not so bad” or “could be better”. I started to question him about his thought provoking reply when I was interrupted with job related questions from the customer. Before I could get back to him he had gathered up his tie downs and was driving away.

I could not stop thinking about “it’s the best day of my life”. I couldn’t stop thinking about how right he was. Living in the present…the here and now…the past is done and the future no one knows.


All my yesterdays are gone
All my tomorrows are unknown
I can’t live in the future
I can’t live in the past
Only in the moment/ only today I live
There is nothing I can change about my past
There is nothing I can do in my future
Only for today I can do what is right
Today I can change the rest of my life
All my yesterdays are history
All my tomorrows are a mystery
So today is the best day of my life



Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the best day of my life…today.
Thank you for reminding me to put You first…today.
Please help me remind others of your goodness…today.
Amen

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Windmills

Like Mac Davis I watched Lubbock disappear in the rear view mirror. I drove US 84 South, descended off the Caprock and followed the rolling plains until I spied the most remarkable sight. Windmill after windmill, they went on and on, as far as the eye could see and then some. It was like an army of wind machines. I conjured up the thought of battalions of solders with their blades glistening in the sun under a crystal clear blue sky. They all turned in lock step rotation. I was drawn into this vision like Don Quixote in one of his delusional dreams. I marveled at the size and number…it was mind-boggling. One lone mill stood perfectly still…blades feathered into the wind…as if not to be noticed by my ongoing charge. Mile after mile I was in awe of the spectacle, the spectacle of nothing but wind driven generators.

I couldn’t help but wonder how they all turned at the same synchronous speed, regardless of the wind’s speed. How did they know to constantly adjust the pitch of the blades in order for each individual generator to make 60 cycles per minute alternating current? How did they know how to match the highs and lows, the positives and negatives of their sine waves to that of the grid? Just who and how made all this possible? To think the human brain figured this all out…absolutely astounded me.

Yet this is nothing compared to God’s brain and ability to make stuff…stuff that works. He made me…he made my brain…he made the brains and the hands that made these wind machines. That’s amazing! I can hardly wait to see the face of God growing nearer and dearer as the vision gets clearer and clearer in my dreams.

Thank you, God, for a wonderful road trip.
Thank you for making me.
Thank you for giving me the brains to recognize You.
Amen

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Country Roads

I drove back down the tiny country road, trying to avoid the pot holes in my shiny diesel truck. I could not get the thoughts of the old frame house in desperate need of repair, the tired little car parked in the yard and the weathered old man in a wheelchair out of my head. He and I had worked together on an assortment of different jobs. In spite of his bad knees, bad feet and obvious pain, his spirits were always good. My mission was to deliver some reading material I thought he might enjoy during his confinement. But no one was at home so I left it in the mailbox.

The mental picture of his situation, his exceedingly modest abode and that sad little faded vehicle gave me a feeling of being blessed beyond belief. It was difficult to keep my eyes from tearing up. But then…with a sigh…I thought maybe I was being judgmental. Maybe I was judging someone by their worldly possessions or lack there of.

The old man, actually one month my junior, is probably further down the road to our ultimate goal than I. Didn’t Christ say something about it being more difficult for a rich man to enter heaven? Perhaps through the old man’s suffering he is closer to God than I. I … by comparison…live in the lap of luxury.

Perhaps it is not a tear of pity I need to shed but rather that I should covet what he has.

Thank you, Lord, for all the riches you have blessed me with.
Please, Jesus, help me not waste those resources on foolishness.
Please guide me, Lord Jesus, and help me use those assets to point others toward You.
Amen

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Fathers and Sons

I thought of my father. I thought of my son. I thought of my father’s son. I always felt like my father never accepted me for who I was, that awful feeling of not being good enough…perhaps that feeling stemmed from the results of my behavior, behavior that always put me on the wrong end of his belt. Now I’m older, older than he ever was and I still find myself trying to gain his approval, get his acceptance and please him. His passing has been over forty years ago and I am still looking for that affirmation. I think of my son and his mistakes. I want him to know that I do accept him; I do love him in spite of whatever he has done or whatever he will do. It is only now I understand my father’s words: “This hurts me more than you.”


Thank you, Father God, for letting your Son show me “The Way.”
Thank you, Jesus, for taking that terribly undeserved beating.
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for helping me understand how love works.
Amen
P.S. Tell Dad “Hi...and I love him”

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Above All

I drove from house to house though the empty Sunday morning streets in my ten year old car with faded paint, wearing my thirty year old suit (with low miles). I could not help but think “it’s just not right”. There should be more fanfare, perhaps seven white horses pulling a gold clad chariot with crowds that lined the streets and sing “Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest.” But no…it’s just me…taking my Lord and Savior to the homebound in silence.

My feelings vacillate between total unworthiness and a major league case of goose bumps…to think that He has chosen me, me just a little jackass to give him a ride. I can only hope the ride in a clean white shirt pocket next to hopefully a clean and contrite heart will be adequate.

In my head I can hear the voice of Randy Travis singing.

“Above all powers /Above all kings
Above all nations /and all created things
Above all wisdom /and all the ways of man
You were here before the world began

Above all kingdoms /Above all thrones
Above all wonders /this world has ever known
Above all wealth/ and treasures of the earth
There is no way to measure what you’re worth

Crucified and laid behind a stone
You lived to die / rejected and alone
Like a rose/ trampled on the ground
You took the fall and thought of me
Above all”

Monday, October 12, 2009

I Got a Gun

Well I did it! I finally bought a gun and did not even ask my wife’s permission. It must be a man thing. How exciting, I loaded a clip into the magazine, took aim and pulled the trigger. It was astounding, the recoil, the deafening noise, the unbelievable feeling of testosterone coursing throughout my entire body. The shear power and explosive forces that pierced three inches of solid wood was indescribable. I squeezed off a few more bursts with remarkable precision. I couldn’t stop until the magazine was empty. I’ve never felt so proud; I stepped back and surveyed the situation. Each and every projectile hit the bull’s-eye with amazing accuracy.
.
Frame nailers are the greatest. Tim “the tool man” Taylor would be green with envy. My new nail gun is soooooo cool. I nailed every board exactly where I wanted it.

Well, its time to role up the air hose and put away the air compressor. Tomorrow will be a good day to finish the fascia and the soffits.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a wonderful day.
Thanks for a house with a roof that does not leak.
And thanks for the new Hardie-board siding and trim.
Please watch over me so I don’t shoot myself in the foot.

Amen

Saturday, October 10, 2009

It’s Possible?

“It ain’t the parts of the bible I can’t understand that bothers me…it’s the parts I do understand”
-Samuel Clements better know as Mark Twain-

Today’s reading (Mark 10: 17-30) is a passage I…do….understand.

I say that because, I am the man who observed all these things. I didn’t shoot anyone, I didn’t cheat on my wife, I didn’t rob a banks, I didn’t gossip, I tried to honor my parents. I considered myself good person. But like the man in the gospel my lust for material possessions was my god.

The bible doesn’t tell us how his story ended…but I can tell you what happened to me.

My pursuit of material things kept me separated from God. My pursuit of material stuff was like digging a deep dark metaphorical hole. A hole I dug for 42 years.
God patiently watched and waited…until the day I wanted out…but by then the hole was so deep and I could not get out.
In the pit of my despair, when I thought I had exhausted all my options for escape, God sent a messenger. It was just a guy from down the street wearing a short sleeve white shirt and khaki pants. He suggested that I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.

In desperation I cried out to Jesus. I let Him in to my heart, for the first time in my life,
and HE began to warm that cool dark place.

I am happy to say that today I am a recovering sinner and have been for 21 years, 11 month and 17 days.
My addiction…to material possessions…no longer holds me hostage. While it is true:
Some days I take 12 steps forward and 11 backward …. I am making progress.

So, may I suggest that if you are stuck in a rut or in a deep dark hole…remember:
For human beings it is impossible, but not for God.
With God, all things ARE possible.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Summer of 65

I opened my inbox and my heart skipped a beat when I read the name Rae Chell Xxxxxxxx. It was as if I had been catapulted back in time, back into the past. She asked if I was the boy who was from that far-a-way town, in that far-a-way time, back in the early 60’s with a brother named John. The town, the time and sibling were all a match. But her last name was not the same. Oh! I thought. That’s right. Girls change last names.

All these fond memories came flooding back from the past, of a dear sweet girl who was compassionate and caring during a difficult time. It was the summer of 1965. That fateful summer my parents and younger sister were lost in the Utah Mountains where their plane went down. It was a stressful time as I look back on it…even though, at that time, I thought I was bullet proof. The two months of waiting and wondering for the plane to be found was some sort of strange limbo of not knowing what to do. The
Summer of 65 was a time that is not very comfortable to look back on…although it is never too far from my subconscious. All-in-all it was a sad thing but not necessarily a bad thing. It definitely forced me to do some growing up…something my parents had tried to do…in vain.

As I remember, Rae Chell was a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy situation. She was a warm loving soul that gave some meaning to life and a reason to carry on. I was busy at the end of that summer closing a house, taking a younger brother to college in Missouri, and putting family affairs in order. Then I headed back to college in Lubbock. Apparently I lost Rae Chell in the shuffle. A part of me looks back wondering what could have been, wondering what unattended or unintended fires were left burning. But yet another part of me knows that God has given me what I needed when I needed it. I have no regrets but only thanks and praise for a loving God who has blessed me beyond belief, a God who sent angels to care for me, a God that stood by me through thick and thin.

Rae Chell was and is one of those angels, an angel that deserves nothing but the best. My best wishes, thanks and prayers go out to her and her family wherever she is.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all of your blessin’s
For the angels you send, that teach me the lessons

But just one request, I have for today
An appeal for a friend, for this I pray

I’m sure it would be, so totally swell
For You to bless, my dear Rae Chell

Amen

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Keep On Keeping On

In desperation I strained to move my seemingly paralyzed legs as the approaching locomotive bared down on me with frightening speed. With its mammoth size only inches away… my visions of a devastating impact were imminent. A deafening horn sounded and in a fit of panic and disorientation my flailing arms managed to land a disabling blow directly on the snooze button. I struggled from my unconscious state into the early morning reality. Admittedly I was glad to be awake…and alive…but I found very little interest in getting ready for the day. The warm bed still held a certain allure that I couldn’t seem to shake. But I knew if I did not force myself to get dressed, get on my bike and pedal down to daily Mass…the day would be a complete train wreck with nothing to show for it but feelings of guilt and regrets over my laziness.

So I pressed on…thinking and questioning… how do people with real problems get though the day? How do drug addicts make it? How do people without homes or without food carry on? Here I am with every blessing imaginable and I struggle to keep my sanity, to keep focused on what’s important and to keep Jesus as my number one priority. I have heard it said, “You may have to live in this world…but you don’t have to be a part of it.” I prefer this analogy, “Your boat has to be in the water but you don’t have to have water in your boat.”

Well…I don’t need a boating disaster or a train wreck.

Dear Lord, please give me the strength to keep bailing water today.
Amen

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Oh #@*% !!

Yesterday I overheard someone speak the “#@%* word” and it brought back memories of my time spent “in the service of my country”. I use that phrase “in the service of my country” very loosely. I was enlisted in the United States Marine Corps Reserve and stationed at Camp Pendleton, California on active duty. This was in the late 60s and Vietnam was heating up…yet back then they rarely called up the Reserves. The joke about the Reserves was “the unwilling being lead by the unqualified to do the unnecessary” and there seemed to be a lot of truth to that statement. Either Reserves or Regulars the “F word” was spoken fluently. I myself never heard such words as a child. My parents used proper language and expected us to do the same. Therefore, I had little practice in the art of cussing and cursing. Whenever I attempted such speech it just never seemed to flow or come out quite right. But thanks to my military training I managed to blurt out that aforementioned word on occasion with the required emphasis and emotion.

At some point I decided to give up my pursuit of foul language…not necessarily a decision to improve my moral status but more of an academic issue. I was on a quest to express myself better and expand my vocabulary. For it seemed “that word” was a bit over used. It’s not just used as an adjective or noun but used as every known part of speech: verb, pronoun, adverb, conjunction, interjection, and preposition. This makes for some very interesting sentences but not very descriptive or technically accurate when trying to converse above the level of a cave man’s grunting and groaning.

Well, I haven’t made much progress in my pursuit for academic excellence as I still end my sentences with prepositions and let my participles dangle but I have managed to eliminate most of the bad words.

Thank you, Lord, for parents that expected better of me.
Amen

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Summer’s End

Dragging myself from the couch I turned off the TV’s depressing news broadcast and cranked up my wife’s lawnmower. There was a noticeable and amazing change in the weather. In South Texas some people tell me that the 15th of September is the end of summer. This doesn’t exactly agree with the Gregorian calendar which designates September 22nd as the autumnal equinox. This is the day that the earth’s axis has zero degrees of tilt and the north and south poles are equidistant from the sun…the beginning of autumn. Even though the days have been getting shorter for the last three months…due to the thermal flywheel effect it is only now I can actually go outside without collapsing from heat exhaustion or having to use supplemental oxygen to breathe. While not exactly a “Blue Norther” the northerly eighty degree breeze made being outside quite pleasant.

I could not help but think that in this nation gone crazy… with all the crazy people calling the “new north” south, calling evil good, and calling economic decline progress…that God is still in charge. God still makes the world go around, makes the seasons come and go and makes sense of a nonsensical world. After all…this is nothing new…history has recorded that the majority of political leaders were bad or evil people…so why should I think this is a perfect nation.

God’s north is still north, God’s truth is still true, God’s power is still sovereign.

I need to increase my determination to follow my moral compass no matter what direction the rest of the world goes.

Thank you, Jesus, for being my north star.
Please give me the ability, the courage and the strength to follow You on my journey to a perfect world where evil and crazy are not allowed.

Amen.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Indulgences

I’ve gotten in the habit of trying to say a Rosary to start off my hour with Jesus on Friday mornings. As I finished it off with my “how to” leaflet in hand I noticed a paragraph titled ROSARY INDULGENCES. My take on indulgences has always been a bit skeptical. It seems too much like a game show with rules of when and if it counts or whether it is a plenary or a partial indulgence. Anyway…I decided to see if I had scored any points and read on.

A Plenary Indulgence may be gained (under usual conditions) when the Rosary is prayed in church, in a family group or in a religious community.

Cool! I am in church…this is encouraging. Wait a minute…what’s this word also.

Also:
(A) five (5) decades of the Rosary must be prayed continuously.


Hum! I wonder if daydreaming breaks the “continuously”.

(B) The prayers of the Rosary must be prayed vocally and one must meditate upon the Mysteries of the Rosary.

Well…I did not say them out loud that would disturb the others in the chapel spending their hour of adoration. And that “meditate upon the mysteries” does it have to be continuous or can it be interrupted with frequent sojourns into my minds attention deficit disorder playground.

Do I even need to read part (C)?

(C) If the recitation of the Rosary is public, the Mysteries of the Rosary must be announced.

There’s not much point in reading on. I think I‘m out of the money, no points scored and no gold star. But that’s OK…I did not do it for the points anyway. I know God loves me. I know I can’t earn my way to heaven. Salvation is a gift. A gift I accept. A gift Jesus gave me.

Dear Jesus, I just want you to know I appreciate the gift and look forward to seeing you face to face to say thank you.

Amen

Thursday, August 27, 2009

August Heat

As I struggled with the stubborn copper wire in the stifling August heat and humidity, sweat saturated every stitch of my clothing. I pursed my lips in an effort to keep ugly words from escaping and strained to suppress the feeling of aggravation as I forced the bulky conductor into the main lugs of the electrical panel. The perspiration fogged my glasses as my frustrations grew.

The thought of spending eternity in an unbearable boiling place crossed my mind. The elevated temperature reinforced my thinking and strengthened my resolve to do whatever it takes to insure against such a scorching fate. As I torqued down the connections I thought of that Thursday night in the garden of Gethsemane. I thought of Jesus. I thought of Jesus sweating it out…without complaining or grumbling.

So I prayed

Dear Lord, thank you for this warm warning of where I don’t want to spend eternity. Thank you for showing me the way, the truth and the life. Please give me the stamina to do whatever it takes to avoid that eternal hot spot.

Amen

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

A Note...Just to let You Know

8/11/2009

Dear Jesus,

How are you doing? I thought I would write you a note just to say thank you, thank you for everything. It seems I am always asking You for stuff…stuff I want…stuff I think I need.

As of late it seems I have made numerous requests for rain…as, I’m sure, everyone has. I am not questioning the fact that rain is a real need, but it occurred to me while washing my wife’s car after her return from a one thousand mile trip to her mother’s, that there was only a half dozen bugs splattered across the front. I realized that the whole summer had almost passed yet I had not experienced one single mosquito. Also, I have not had to muck around through the mud on any job site, and my home improvement project (replacing the exterior siding) has not been rained out…not even once. So, I want to thank you for these particular blessings.

Please accept my apologies for any grumbling, moaning or groaning on my part in regards to what I don’t have…as I am most thankful for what I do have. I am convinced that you know what’s best.

I just want to assure you that I think you are doing a good job and I encourage you to keep up the good work.

Hope to see you soon.

Love always

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Toothpaste ?

Returning home from a job readying a steam boiler for inspection early Saturday morning I remembered that I was out of toothpaste. I spied the HEB sign from almost three traffic lights away and recalled the memories of aisle # 8, a virtual shrine to the jelly bean with every color and flavor under heaven. But my resolve was strong and I was above and beyond those temptations; so I marched past the endless rows of fresh fruits and vegetables with my integrity intact. Then I was engulfed by the smells from the bakery. The essence of fresh baked breads and cookies quaffed up into my nostrils as I staggered past the displays of pastries, pies and tartlets. I regained my resolve as I passed the health food section. I recalled…we were also out of peanut butter. I did not want that organic stuff my wife buys, you know, the kind that spreads like dried stucco. I wanted the real thing with all the trans-fats, saturated fats and hydrogenated whatever. I also grabbed a large jar of black raspberry jam making sure the word “REDUCED” did not appear anywhere on the label. As I passed a “help yourself” bulk display of treats…my eye caught sight of chocolate covered raisins. I decided I needed something from the fruit group to balance my diet so I loaded a couple of large scoops into a bag…actually I added a partially filled third scoop just for good measure. I could feel my will power slowly softening like chocolate left in the summer sun. Then I passed the infamous aisle # 8…I quickly filled a bag with Cherry Sours and tucked it under the loaf of white bread as if to hide it from my guilt…but at this point I knew I was done for. I slinked to the check-out and stood there as the checker scanned the ice cream, potato chips, and pizza; not to mention all the other processed and preservative filled man-made products that delight my taste buds and leave my body mal-nourished.

I couldn’t help but think…is this the way it is going to be on judgment day…with God scanning my grocery list of sins, as it prints out for the whole world to see.

Maybe I need to start taking better care of my body and my soul.

Dear Lord,
I know once the toothpaste is out of the tube it is almost impossible to get it back in. So please, Lord Jesus, help me avoid all those places that do no benefit to my body or my soul. Please help me to just “not go there”.
Amen.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Grocery Store Parking Lot

As I loaded my numerous bags of groceries into the trunk of the car…from out of no where came a voice asking for help…just enough help to get to Cuero, TX only thirty miles away. Almost like a knee jerk reaction I reached for my money clip, pulled off a twenty and handed it over. I did consider the single one dollar bill…for a split second but it seemed a bit stingy on my part. Besides if this was God’s way of testing my generosity, I didn’t feel like one dollar would cut it. She thanked me and even pronounced a blessing over me…then disappeared among the rows of car.

Then it dawned on me. This is not the road to Cuero. This road goes to Hallettsville. I wonder…was she just asking for directions, not a hand out.

Then all the second guessing started, I began to think…what if I have been panhandled? What if she was a drug addict? How was she going to misuse the money? What if? What if? What if? Wait a minute, I did my part…what she does is her problem. I was asked and I complied with the request. That should be all I have to worry about. The rest is in God’s hands and He works in strange and mysterious ways.

Thank you, Lord Jesus
For blessing me with money to share
For knee jerk reactions beyond compare
Please help me, Lord
Not to over-think a situation
That only leads to consternation
Please give me, my Lord
The wisdom to pass Your tests
And the strength to do my best

For this I pray. Amen

Into The Dark

As I stepped outside into the dark early morning, wearing nothing but my under garments, on a mission to deploy the water sprinkler…I stubbed my toe on a pile of construction materials left from my current home improvement project. The pain shot up my leg as I recovered from my stumble without completely falling. As I hobbled back inside to doctor my bloody toe…I couldn’t help but think how this stupidity paralleled the stupidity in my spiritual life. How many times have I allowed the “evil one” to lure me into the darkness where I would stub my toe and sometimes fall? How stupid, when…with just a little effort, I could have dressed myself and turned on the light?

O Lord God I praise your name
I bow to you in all your fame

Thank you for your gifts so many
For these indeed I have a plenty

Please, Dear Lord, light up the dark
For You’re my everlasting spark

Dress me in your protecting grace
And keep me safe ‘til I see your face

Amen.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Prayer and Fasting? Ouch!

In an effort to step up my campaign in the “good fight” as St. Paul called it, I volunteered to go on a three day “Desert Retreat”. Although volunteering is in direct violation of my strict personal policy to never volunteer, I thought it was necessary to improve my spiritual growth. I guess they called it a “desert retreat” not to be mistaken for a “dessert retreat” because it is like going into the wilderness away from all the everyday distractions and temptations to fast and pray.

Our leader, who by no stretch of the imagination could be described as a small man, announced we would all gather at a common point in order to caravan out to the remote isolated retreat location. So we all met at, you guessed it, the “all-u-can-eat” Golden Corral. Well…this makes sense…as any athlete knows you want to “carb-up” before any marathon. In recent years I have learned to avoid these “all-u-can-eat” places due to the fact that I feel a moral obligation to hold up my end of the bargain. Plus being a member of the “clean your plate…there are children starving in China” generation, I have decided these eating establishments are places I need to be kept away from. But, I decided to take one for the team and “soldier on” thinking the next three days I would have to exist on stale bread crumbs and water.

We arrived at our camp site and immediately got into some heavy duty praying and spiritual exercise; the Liturgy of the Hours, the Rosary, the Divine Mercy Chaplet and around the clock Eucharistic adoration.

My stomach rumbled during the silent prayer. It didn’t need nourishment it needed a bicarbonate of soda. Finally by the next afternoon things settled down and I looked forward to the possibility of a hunger pain as some sort of sign of my spiritual progress. But as evening fell our leader produced a meal of spaghetti and meat balls that any decent Italian restaurant would have envied. So, for me, once again the line between sustenance and gluttony was blurred.

Fasting and praying…the praying didn’t go much better. My mind wandered and wondered back and forth, in and out, from the spiritual world to the worldly world. I couldn’t stay focused. I worried about my fault and failings, my “should have dones” and my “could have dones”. I needed to get out of the past and into the present, the here and now. So I pulled my chair up close to the altar, right up next to the Holy Eucharist, Our Lord, physically present in a special way. I just looked at him and thought “I can’t believe it”. It’s hard to believe I am sitting here in this little room with God…the almighty God who created heaven and earth, My Lord, My Savior. I worried that it strained my faith. I kept thinking…I can’t believe I am sitting here in this little nothing room, nothing more than a lean-to on a pump house in the middle of nowhere, with God.

I wondered…I questioned…how this can be. I had to keep reminding myself that I choose to believe. That’s faith, choosing to believe.


I clenched my teeth and held my breath in an effort to suppress the tears as I thought, “How gracious of my God to allow me this honor”.

Thank you Lord Jesus

For letting me believe
What I cannot conceive

Strengthen my faith
And quicken the pace

Lord, take my hand
That I might stand

Be my guiding light
Throughout the fight

Don’t let me roam
But take me home

For this I pray
At the end of the day

Amen

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Summer Drought

With each step the brown grass crunches under my feet, the summer drought has not only left the ground parched and cracked it also dried my soul…dried it to the point that all my thoughts and feelings have shriveled up. I just exist in a state of spiritual lethargy with no sense of God’s presence. I force myself to Mass almost everyday but it is like a habit…a habit I’ve gotten into… with no apparent emotional charge or recharge. I feel as lifeless as the dry brown grass. I am ready for a little grace to fall like rain and a little rain to fall into my field.

Perhaps I just need to keep turning the crank, pumping the pedals and finish “the race”…not go with my feelings…but do what I know has to be done.


Please Lord Jesus
Send your grace to quench my soul
and send the rain to make things whole
You’re the one who makes it right
To You I pray this prayer tonight

Amen

Monday, June 29, 2009

Awake

As I lay awake listening to the occasional light snore coming from my wife I peered at the clock ticking off the minutes of wee morning hours. It wasn’t the noise keeping me from sleep…but it was…the flow of tiny electrons through the circuits of my brain…it was the mental activity that would not subside. I kept thinking about the words from Sunday morning …the same words we always repeat at each and every Sunday mass. It was the Confiteor: “I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned thought my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do…” I couldn’t help but ponder all the “what I have failed to do” moments in my past…all those missed opportunities that I really never considered to be an offense to God.

The beggar on the street…I would roll up my window as I passed in an effort not to be seen. The collection plate at church …I would close my eyes, as it was passed, as if in deep prayer.
Not making the sign of the cross and saying the blessing out loud before public meals.
And the list goes on.

My policy is to never volunteer for anything, never do more than required, but never break the rules. Well, I have got to change my policy, I have to extracate myself from the mushy middle, get out of my lukewarmness, I’ve got to be proactive in this fight, and I have to get out front in this race.

I pray, Dear Lord Jesus, please give me the wisdom to recognize my faults and failings and give me the strength and courage to correct them.

As Amen crosses my lips…I nodded off to sleep.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Minding My Own Business

As I sat in the pew listening to the readings…just minding my own business and feeling quite good about myself…perhaps even a little smug and self-righteous. The priest read the last lines from Matthew’s chapter ten quoting Jesus: “Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father”.

For some reason those words struck me…struck me and stuck in my head like some catchy tune playing over and over. I could not purge the thought from my mind.

I could not help but think of the times that I felt self-conscious about making the sign of the cross in public…when eating out. Oh! Sure! It is no problem in church. I’m the perfect Catholic in church. But to bless myself in public makes me uncomfortable.

Then it hit me…it hit me as if I had heard the cock crow for the third time. My heart wept with a mournful sorrow as I envisioned Peter on that fateful Thursday night.

Well! I’ve got to make some changes uncomfortable or not…I have to acknowledge Jesus. If I don’t…being “ill at ease” in public is going to be the least of my problems.

Thank you, Jesus, for your very poignant words.
Please, Heavenly Father…please Lord God...send the Holy Spirit to give me the courage I need.

Amen.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Final Answer

Who wants to be a millionaire? Who wants to be rich? Who wants to be happy?

Is being rich being happy? Do riches make me happy? Do I want to be happy for all eternity? Do I want to distract myself with the pursuit of riches now… only to find out…I will be eternally unhappy?

It all boils down to choosing the correct answer…choosing…between heaven or hell, between Jesus or No Jesus…and the clock is ticking.

I know there is a hell because I’ve been there. Using the scientific method of trial and error, I have, over the course of many years, tested each and every one of God’s commandments. If I have not broken the commandment…I have, for the most part, bent it to the breaking point. Each and every experiment, each and every incident, each and every testing produced the same results.

The result was the bottomless pit of depression, it was the incessant grinding and gnashing of teeth, and it was the crippling and excruciating pain of guilt…it was…pure hell.

Living without Jesus is by definition…Hell.
Therefore, Hell is not my answer…I am certain of that.

So…..My final answer is…be…be with Jesus. Jesus is my final answer.


Dear Lord Jesus

Forgive me for/ the fallacy I believed
Thank you for/ the grace I received

I ‘m humbled by/ the patience you’ve shown
As I stumbled about/ the great unknown

Forgive me for/ the trials I’ve blown
Please give me strength/ to press on

Thank you Jesus/ for your guiding light
Allow me the courage/ to stay in the fight

No other answers will suffice/ it’s clear nothing else will do
For nothing compares/ to the promise I… have… in… You

Amen

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

In Nomine Patris

I walked the expanse of the enormous cobblestone courtyard, climbed the seven symbolic steps, passed thru the big bronze door, pushed open the massive wooden entry and stepped in. I stepped into what seemed like a time warp, I had stepped back in time…back to a place of my childhood recollections. I had entered into a pre-Vatican II world, a world of Latin and liturgy complete with gothic architecture, ornate stained glass appointments, immense columns, inlayed polished marble floors and ceilings that rose to the heavens.

Yet, all this paled in comparison to the spectacle of absolute reverence and awesome respect shown by everyone in attendance. I marveled at the sight of the altar-boys, all in lock step, as they processed up the aisle with serious somber looks on their faces. They ushered in the priest with candles and crucifix held high.

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.(In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit) the memories rushed back…my experience of being pressed into altar-boy service, having to memorize and recite all the prayers in Latin…the meaning of which I had not a clue…and the uncomfortable feeling of being watched by all. Looking back I suspect this is about the time my spiritual train jumped its tracks for I was a rebellious nine year old child.

The unseen cloistered nuns singing from the other side of the partition filled the shrine with the sounds of Adoremus, Sanctus Sanctus Sanctus and Panis Angelicus.

I looked on with astonishment at the sight of everyone dressed in their Sunday best, no T-shirts, no tennis shoes, and no provocative frocks. There was no parade going in and out during mass and no one leaving early or coming in late. There was just raw reverence…from the smallest child to the most elderly person.

Most but not all the women wore mantillas covering their heads, the men wore coats and ties, and there I was with wrinkled jeans and tennis shoes. I felt like the man in the parable of the wedding feast who did not have on the proper garment…fortunately I was not bound hands and feet and thrown out into the darkness with the wailing and gnashing of teeth.

“Confiteor Deo omnipotenti” (I confess to Almighty God), priest and participants alike recited the words. It seemed I was half awake and half asleep…in some sort of half real and half surreal dream-world. I had to clinch my teeth to keep my jaw from quivering, my eyes from watering and I had to force myself to breath due to my muscles constricting the normal lung movements.

“Dominus Vobiscum” (may the lord be with you). We all answered, “Et cum spiritu tuo” (and with your spirit).

The priest with his back to the crowd raised the consecrated host above his head for all to see saying, “Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce qui tollit peccata mundi.” (Behold the Lamb of God; behold him who takes away the sins of the world).

We all filed up to the apron covered communion rail, knelt and received Our Lord and Savior on the tongue. Emotions of being totally unworthy mixed with feelings of being eternally thankful churned within me…like fresh cream…they churned until the cream turned into the butter of grace.

The entire experience is a poignant picture that is burned into the memory of my soul.

Dear Lord Jesus/ I give you thanks
Now that I am/ among your ranks

For putting my train/ upon Thy tracks
For this I know/ to be the facts

And that’s not all/ you’ve done for me
So make me who/ You want me to be

Blessing too many/ to keep the score
But it is your help/ I do implore

Please help me through/ each day and night
Now that I have joined/ your lofty fight

I know this has/ to be Your way
So this is the prayer/ I pray today

Amen

A visit to the Shrine of the Most Holy Sacrament.
The home to EWTN’s Mother Angelica
Hanceville, Alabama
7/7/2009

Friday, May 29, 2009

Too Weird

After being startled by the alarm clock, I realized I was already late for my early Friday morning appointment. I slipped into my cleanest dirty shirt and pants, jumped on my bicycle and pumped as hard as I could until the blood started to circulate through my left brain. I was hoping to wake up some logical, rational and objective thinking…knowing that it would be wasted effort to circulate any blood to the right side. It is common knowledge that my subjective right brain persists in some sort of permanent coma. I arrived a full thirty minutes late but decided…what is in the past is in the past…I cannot change that. So I went in, said “Hello!” .... “Sorry I’m late.”

As I sat staring at the Bread looking back at me from the monstrance…I thought…how bizarre, how weird. All this mumbo jumbo about God’s only son who’s life, death and resurrection purchased us the rewards of eternal life. The story of a virgin mother giving birth to God made man…how strange this all seems. This is really hard to understand, hard to grasp with my left brain.

But, when I consider all the other strange and peculiar beliefs…all the other even more bizarre and more weirder gods, maybe it’s not that much of a leap of faith to believe in my God. Especially when it appears all the other material gods and theo-isms only lead to chaos, confusion and mayhem. So, perhaps my God is not so odd in the overall scheme of things. But, it is so incredibly mysterious. In John’s sixth chapter the disciples are quoted, “this saying is hard: who can accept it?”

Well, I'm with Peter. These are hard sayings. But, like Peter when asked “do you also want to leave?” Simon Peter answered “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

I choose to believe in the mysteries without having to understand them. It is a decision of the heart not the head. Because the head cannot figure this out. Maybe there is hope for my right brain after all.

Lord Jesus, nothing compares to the promise I have in you.

Amen

Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Jar And The Jug

I opened the refrigerator door and stared in…a recreational activity which has become more pronounced in the last two weeks. Originally I had high expectations of accomplishing many projects around the house after my largest customer informed me that they were cutting back and tightening their belt due to the stagnated economy. At first I welcomed the free time but then I discovered something about myself, something that I didn’t really want to know.

I am not a planner; I prefer being told what to do and when to do it. Just give me one emergency at a time. I like to solve technical problems and work hard when the challenge arises…especially when it is an emergency, someone else’s emergency not mine. The routine mundane stuff is not for me.

Then there is that other problem…worrying…the worrying that I promised myself not to do. Worrying about the future and what is going to happen…what a total waste of time and energy.

I removed the expired carton of milk from the refrigerator and decided to make cornbread. Besides sour milk…buttermilk…that’s all the same stuff isn’t it? As I mixed the flour from the jar and the oil from the jug I couldn’t help but think of the widow from Zarephath and how she prepared a little cake for Elijah and what he told her. “The jar of flour shall not go empty nor the jug of oil run dry until the day when the Lord sends rain upon the earth.”

What a comforting thought as I ate my fill of comfort food. Perhaps I will start painting the house today.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the comfort food of eternal life…a life without economic woes or worries…a life where you do all the planning, all I have to do is follow your lead.

Amen


Ref: 1 Kings 17:8-24

Monday, May 25, 2009

Why Me?

As I cast a judgmental eye around the congregation I wondered if they were just there physically not spiritually. Were they only present out of habit or under duress from a spouse or parent? As I wandered the labyrinthine halls of my mind it occurred to me what a fraud I was…how judgmental I was. As I continued flipping the channels of my brain from day-dream to day-dream…I stood, I sat and I kneeled…I followed the crowd like a zombie. I watched the altar boy, in this case a girl, yawn…a most contagious yawn that had an infectious effect on me. I grit my teeth and tried for my most pious pose in an attempt not to follow suit but it was of no avail. I wasn’t even fooling myself. In the background I could hear the droning of a sermon as my coma persisted. Automatically getting in line and filing up to receive communion I heard the priest announce, “The Body of Christ”. That snapped me out of my stupor and I stammered, “Amen”.

The realization of how unworthy I really was came over me like a giant wave crashing down and causing me to gasp for breath. As a warm loving feeling washed over me and I strained to hold back the tears, my only thought was…why me Lord? What did I ever do to deserve love from You.

The tune and words from the song played in my head.

“Why Me Lord? What have I ever done
To deserve even one of the pleasures I've known
Tell me Lord what did I ever do to deserve loving you
And the kindness you've shown”

Amen

Friday, May 15, 2009

Tuna Salad


As I remove the stainless steel mixing bowl from the cabinet…the bowl that belonged to my mother…it brings back childhood memories… recollections of my mother’s tuna salad made in this very bowl. Every Friday she would prepare a batch of canned “sea chicken”. Although I cannot say for sure what the exact ingredients were or verify the exact proportions of each ingredient …I make it exactly the way she did. Over the years the tuna has morphed into Albacore and the Miracle-Whip into mayonnaise and who knows what other subtle changes have evolved…but the memories are unchanged and no less vivid. I remember the entire family sitting around the kitchen table eating together with no TV in the background, no carpooling children to soccer, or band practice and no going out on dates. There was no talking with your mouth full or leaving the table early. There was family time; there was doing the dishes (if it was your turn); there was sitting up straight; and there were manners.

I stir in the pickle relish, add salt and pepper, and taste. Yep! That’s it! Just like mom’s.

My mother has been gone for forty-five years but I miss her. I look forward to the day that I see her again just to say “I love you”. I know she must be a saint now. I can take credit for that because…I was the one who kept her on her knees.

Thank you Jesus, for that special mother.
Thank you Lord, for no other.
Thank you for those mem-o-ries
Thank you Lord from my knees
Amen.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Quiet Please!

I agreed to chauffeur my wife to her meeting in Dallas. I thought it would give me a chance to get some “alone time” while she attended her conference. I spotted a quaint eatery with secluded tables and chairs that appeared to be perfect for meditating, writing and sipping caffeine. As I started to scribble out some half baked ideas, I noticed how hard it was to concentrate with the annoying music playing at a volume suitable for a rock concert. This just would not do. I looked up the nearest library on my trusty Blackberry, Googled a map and set out for a more peaceful place…just blocks away. I relished the thought of total silence. It made me giddy just thinking about how quiet it was going to be. It’s been years since I’ve been in a library. The library is a serious place for serious studying, compiling term papers and nodding off. I meandered though the stacks of books looking for the perfect spot to claim…it just didn’t feel the same as I remembered. Nevertheless, I began putting adjectives in front of nouns, stringing subjects, verbs and objects together...trying in earnest to put my thoughts onto paper. My writings never really seem to flow…they are more like a crossword puzzle…I jump around filling in the empty blanks, scratching out and changing almost everything. The harder I tried to concentrate…the louder the raucous of the children, the boisterous people and the noisy library employees seemed to get. Even the clamorous noise of a copy machine in the back ground became deafening. Now, as if this was not bad enough…someone’s cell phone rings out with its earsplitting volume. That was the last straw. After fumbling around trying to turn it off…I gathered up my note book and slunk out of the building. Frustrated, I retreated to a park bench and listened to the birds singing and the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze of a beautiful spring day.

I am going to just sit here and enjoy what God sends my way… trying to force my plan never really seems to work out.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for this beautiful day.
For the peaceful calm you have sent my way.
Forgive me Lord for the harsh things I say.
To you let this be my prayer for today.
Amen

Friday, May 8, 2009

ND Commencement

Dear Fr. Jenkins

I think it is an outrage and a scandal that such a blatant pro-abortion advocate, Barack Obama, be invited to speak and be honored at a supposedly Catholic University.
Maybe you should check with Pope Benedict to see what he thinks about this. I am a Catholic struggling to follow Christ in a world that doesn't want to follow His rules. Please do not add to the confusion. Please make a stand for the sanctity of life.

Prayerfully yours,

Gene Jeansonne
Victoria, Tx

Monday, May 4, 2009

The Right To Bear Arms

I don’t mean the right to wear muscle shirts…although that should probably be out-lawed for all of us who are over weight and out of shape. I’m talking about this gun thing. I have never owned or desired to own a gun. I have never shot a gun except when the Marine Corps made me qualify at the rifle range. But for some strange reason I feel the need to go out and purchase the most ostentatious assault rife I can think of…just because the politicians are talking about taking away our right to bear arms. It just seems absurd that they think making rules will solve problems. Crazy people, crooks and criminals don’t follow rules anyway. God made ten rules and not too many people follow them. Look at our worldwide economic situation. That was a result of greed. Greed is not following God’s rule number ten.

Dear Lord Jesus, please give me the strength of get through another day in this crazy world and please don’t let me shoot myself in the foot.
Amen.

Friday, May 1, 2009

President’s Pictures

As I looked at the pictures of presidents Jackson, Lincoln and Washington…I began to muse…I carefully folded them and put them back in my wallet. I couldn’t help but imagine the Treasury Department working around the clock printing more and more copies. All backed by good as gold “politician’s promises”. Perhaps they would even come up with a new denomination. It would have Obama’s picture on it. It would be worth one trillion dollars and have the purchasing power of one happy meal. On the up side that would be a politician's promise made good…CHANGE. He never said it would be change for the better. Perhaps I’m being unfair. Perhaps I just don’t understand. There are so many things I just cannot grasp. For example; if Jesus is happy with ten percent why does Uncle Sam get twenty-five percent? My, my…Publicans and tax collectors…it seems their reputation has not changed in two thousand years. I suppose I might as well give to Caesar what is Caesar’s…it surely won’t be worth anything to me.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for being relevant in an irrelevant and irreverent world.

Amen

News from Malta

Here is the news from Fr. Tito in Malta. The typos corrected.

Do you think that Blissful ignorance is a virtue? It is not. The Holy Spirit gives us 7 virtues, One is wisdom, the other discerment, Joy and knowledge. Ignorance is no virtue. But
all the Godlessness is not just in America. The virus is world wide and little Catholic Malta has the same problems that the world has. No love for life, no love for marital committment, pre martital sex and even in Malta they start young. we had 12 year olds already single mothers. Most Maltase go to church at least on Sundays. A big majority go to daily Mass. But then most of them ignore the rules of the church and the 10 commandments. I think they think they can fool God too not just the church. Then there is the EU Europen Union. It is very anti any religion and they want to make the showing of religious objects a crime. They way to criminalize religious schools. They want to eliminate all crosses from schools, hospitals and other public places so as not to offend atheists or Muslims. THEY WANT TO GIVE power to arrest priests or ministers who refuse to marry gays in their churches etc. It's too long a litany. I love Malta and I cry for it and the way it is today. Love fr. Tito

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Blissful Ignorance

As I studied a “remember me” e-mail from a long forgotten school mate it brought me back…back in time…to a time when I was not a child but not yet an adult. I had not yet experienced the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the excitement and disappointment that living seems to generate. High school, my senior year, it was a time of blissful ignorance. I look back with feelings of regret and envy…longing for those simpler times.

Today, given the current economic and political situation and the degenerating moral condition of our apparently godless nation...I pine for that feeling of blissful ignorance.
There seems to be no regard for the sanctity of life. There seems to be no regard for fiscal responsibility. Do our political leaders reflect the thinking of the majority of our country? Is it just me? Is it just them? “These are the times that try men’s souls” Thomas Paine lamented. So maybe things have not changed, even the great Roman Empire crumbled and fell in upon itself. I suspect debauchery and moral decay played a large part in its demise. History repeats itself over and over. I feel my beloved land of the free and home of the brave is dying…dying like a beached whale…dying under its own weight.

At this point I have only one hope…blind faith. Blissful ignorance is no longer an option. As I ride the roller coaster of life, blind faith in God’s promises is my only recourse. Taking one day at a time, investing in the hereafter, and following my leader, Jesus Christ, is my plan. Not having to worry about tomorrow is bliss beyond belief.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for nothing compares to the promise I have in you.

Amen

Sunday, April 19, 2009

More Tito Wisdom

Here are more (unedited) words of wisdom from Fr Tito.
This was a response to my writing of "introspection" I noticed he even changed my name to protect the innocent. I can identify with the part about getting in trouble not knowng how foolish we are. I remember when I was young...neither my parents nor God knew anything. Now, I'm hoping the "Boss" will not be to rough with me.
Blessings
Gene


----- Original Message -----
From: Fr.Tito Sammut
To: Gene Jeansonne
Sent: Saturday, April 18, 2009 10:08 AM
Subject: Re: introspection



Dear Jean, You knoe when we get old our brain atart to act differently. When one is young nothing seems to be iompossible. and we get into trouble not knowing how foolish we were. But old age brings in new force to try to overcome all guilt feeelings. But is make us feel that when we meet God he will be ready to start talking to us in a rough way. But that is niot true. In old age the brain acts differently. IOt starts preparing us to meet the one who made that is why we try to change habits. For one thing new habits strat growing slowly. Our ideas became like new beautiful flowers so that when he meet the boss he will purify us so that he will be able to lead us to forget all our life and give us that life he wants for us to be with him, always happy. Love fr. T

A Note From Father Tito

Dear Gene, Jesus does not measure our lives by days and nights. He measures it by our intentions. He loves sinners and we are all sinners one way or another. He did not make us perfect, and he knows it. It is true that he told us to for any infraction big or small we have to make up for it somehow. But he ignores most of our infractions… using an act of contrition should be enough. He does not expect us to go overboard. St. Paul was murdering Christians but he forgave him and he paid for it by his actions after conversion. Pride in this situation has nothing to do with inventing sins…but an honest evaluation of all our actions. Saintly ways are simple, never hurt anyone’s feelings or reputation.

Jesus loves sinners provided they eliminate sin.

Love

Fr. Tito



Here is a response to “20/20 Hindsight” from Fr Tito Summut the priest that was stationed at the Newman Center during my collage days. He also officiated at our wedding over 40 years ago. He has retired and returned to Malta, his home. I always enjoy his insightful responses and I don’t think he would mind if I shared this one with you. I especially like the part about Jesus loving sinners…that is very reassuring to me. I also like the simple ways…I can really get into that. Hope this will inspire you as it did me.

Happy Easter

Gene Jeansonne
4/12/2009

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Introspection

Why am I writing? Why has writing become such a fascination to me? In the past I have always considered writing a nuisance and of no real value. Besides I wasn’t any good at it…I have the proof…documented in a stack of report cards with my name on them. No grade higher than a D minus. According to each and every teacher I should have been summarily and ceremonially drummed out of the English speaking world, banished to a planet where they rub sticks together to start fires, grunt and draw on cave walls to communicate. In their opinion I should never be allowed to put pen to paper. What does this all mean? Why have I developed such an interest in writing at this late stage in life? Why do I feel the need to document my thoughts, to bear my soul to the reading world?
What is the lesson here? Why did it take a lifetime to discover these hidden treasures and dig them up...these blessings I never knew or realized I had.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for blessing me in so many ways…ways I have yet to discover or appreciate.
Thank you for making the impossible possible.
Thank you for such loving patience as I journey from my caveman spirituality to You.

Amen

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Smoke Gets In My Eyes

As I pushed the ignition button on my Weber gas grill it sparked a memory of my son who had given it to me this past Fathers Day. It was the perfect gift, an old well-used pit that he had found out by the curb with the garbage on one of his jogging expeditions around the city. He replaced the burned out grates and little heat deflector bars with some he had salvaged from somewhere else and purchased a new thermometer for the hood. It was perfect for me because it did not have that ostentatious shiny new look. I love it. But what I love most is my son, a self proclaimed bottom feeder and minimalist, he always gets the last drop of toothpaste from the tube…so to speak, makes use of what others consider unusable. Like the discarded redwood swing set that had rotted at the bottom of the legs where they contacted the ground. He cut off the rotten part then planed, sawed, sanded, mitered and dovetailed together the most beautiful redwood set of bunk beds for my youngest grandson. I can only imagine how much you would have to pay for something like that at a furniture store…if it were even available. The wood is beautiful and the workmanship exquisite. It was all built with no blueprints or plans…just imagination. I marvel at how he has time for all these projects and also time to be a good father to three little children and husband to a beautiful wife…not to mention a full time engineering job that takes him around the world. My eyes water…surely it’s just the smoke from the grill.


Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all my blessings…especially children to be proud of.

Amen

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Bologna

As I sat at the kitchen table savoring a bologna sandwich it brought back memories of by-gone days. Childhood days of the family vacations, vacations that were always the same. Always the same pilgrimage from wherever we lived to the home of our grandparents in southern Louisiana. From as far away as California we would travel in the same 1951 Dodge each and every summer. It was a green four door sedan with a six cylinder engine and manual transmission but the transmission had a fluid drive coupling so you could start in any gear, even third, if you had the patience of Job. This I discovered many years later when learning to drive the very same car. I remember the little blue single wheeled trailer Dad always pulled on these occasions. It carried all the essential baggage for the two week pilgrimage. I don’t remember what the speed limit was but Dad never exceeded his limit which was 50 MPH. It was a grueling trip except for the evening stops at the Best Western Motels where my siblings and I enjoyed the swimming pool until forcibly removed and sent to bed. And then there were stops on the side of the road to eat our bologna on white bread sandwiches using the covered top of the trailer as a picnic table. Those were good times. In spite of whatever unintentional parenting mistakes were made…causing whatever pain and punishment I might have endured (deserved or undeserved)…it is all forgotten when the sweet tang of bologna touches my palate. Bologna is good. It is best when eaten on the side of the road over the tarp covering a single wheeled trailer on a hot humid summer day.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for bologna sandwiches, loving parents, and memories like these.
Amen.

20/20 Hindsight

The day after Good Friday and I look back with some regret and embarrassment…for I have yet to figure out what I will give up for lent. It seems like I have made no spiritual headway. During the last forty days I went through no self-denial, did no corporal works of mercy and did not even keep up with my normal attendance at daily mass. I can only hold on to a glimmer of hope that I will not be drummed out of Christ’s army on judgment day. It would be a major mistake to wait until that day to be caught red-handed…at that point there would be no last chance, no turning toward Christ, no redemption. 20/20 hindsight will have no advantage at the final exam.

So I need to perform my Easter duty, swallow my pride and continue my daily conversion.

Please, Lord Jesus, help me overcome my procrastination, take advantage of hindsight now and turn from my less than saintly ways.

Amen

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Praying for Rain?

Friday morning 5AM Feb. 20, 2009

Ok, Lord, I knocked out a rosary and it wasn’t too painful. Perhaps I even got most of it right. I don’t know why I have such a hard time with that. Maybe, it is trying to concentrate for more than ten consecutive minutes. Anyway, Lord, I was thinking as I pedaled my bike down here…we need rain…at lest everyone says so. But I am enjoying the cold dry air with the unrestricted visibility on these wonderfully fresh winter mornings. I could see the toenail shape of the moon just above the eastern horizon and realized that it was its own shadow that hides the largest part of the moon. Only the reflection of the sun off its trailing edge was visible. It was as if the sun was chasing the moon with a big flashlight. I couldn’t help but contemplate the geometry involved to make such a wonderful sight. No wonder those guys like Galileo were so intrigued by your marvelous creations.

I don’t want to buck the system...I know lots of folks are praying for rain and I’m ok with that…but I do thank You for the dry too. And I just want you to know I am enjoying every dropless moment. Have a great day God.
Amen.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Good Night!

As I stepped from the shower…I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was shocked to see my washboard abs had turn into a washtub of jiggly jello. Right there and then I promised myself to reverse this deterioration of my physical being. I’ll eat better. I’ll exercise. I’ll get back in shape. I’ll start tomorrow. Ohooooo! This bed is so comfortable. Good night Lord. Please help me remember this in the morning.
Amen.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Steeping Tea

As I steeped my morning tea, staring at the pictures stuck to the refrigerator with all the grand children’s little cherub faces staring back at me...I noticed a picture of my wife wearing a Dolly Parton wig. She was young, hot and sexy, and I recalled the reason I married her. Then I noticed our two little baby boys sitting in her lap…a result of the reason why I married her. But that was a long time ago and I have changed. I now realize her beauty comes from within...not from what is on her head or painted on her face.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all the blessings you have bestowed upon me. Please keep me mindful of these as I go about my daily chores.
Amen.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Fan Mail

Dear readers thank you for sharing your comments, compliments and critique.
Anita wrote:

Gene,
I read your writings & thought essays. Your are such a great writer!
I felt so much in your words and thoughts. You have a very special
gift with words & thoughts. …………………………………
………………………………………………………………..
Thanks for sharing your writings. Have you ever read Emerson?
You remind me of him; or even Thoreau.
Anita


Dear Anita:
Please forgive me for being tardy in responding to your email. Since receiving it I have been extremely busy. All the running back and forth to Kinko’s and Hobby Lobby and deciding on enlarging copy, matting and custom framing and such…it is very time consuming. Then there is the placement…should I hang it over my bed so that I might re-read it every morning and night or should I hang it of over the front door post so that the entire world could see it? Decisions…decisions?…then there were the multiple trips to the Hatter trying stretch my old hat to fit… and it’s still too tight. Anyway the main purpose for writing was to request a signed and certified copy of your e-mail to show to my skeptical school teacher wife as proof of my literacy.

Thanks again for your support and encouragement.

Gene

P.S. I could not find a Even Thoreau listed on Wikipedia but there was a Henry David Thoreau…maybe it is his brother.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Writing on Walls


My wife set me up with a FACEBOOK account…apparently so I might have friends. She explained that I could write whatever I wanted on my wall or someone else’s wall. I don’t think she understood that I have an aversion to writing on walls…it probably stemmed from an early childhood experience. As I recall...I was in my sixth year of life, it was just prior to my first grade episode; a whole other story (see story titled “First Grade”). For some unknown reason I decided to scribe a line around the entire outside circumference of our house’s white slate walls with a red crayon. Our house was one in a row of many identical houses that made up the oil field camp. I really think the red line gave our abode a certain notoriety that set it off from all the rest. It looked kinda like a high water mark…ironically in the middle of West Texas. Needless to say…this unleashed a tsunami of wrath and rage from my father. The fury of which was so powerful that I can recall the exact consequences of my actions some seventy years later.

So please forgive me if I don’t seem too enthusiastic about embracing the idea of writing on your wall, for it seems almost like vandalism.

Besides I liked the ole family chain letter with pictures you could hold and touch, with notes and letters written on real paper with real pen and ink. Maybe it was not sent at the speed of light but it was an event. Maybe I am just too old and too tired to keep pace with all this new electronic technology. Oops! gotta go! My computer is telling me “I’ve got mail”.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a wife who’s always looking after me, for a father who kept me in line and most of all for your example to follow. Amen

Monday, March 23, 2009

Official Greeter

My wife is always getting me to do stuff…stuff I am not really qualified to do. Today she dressed me in a suit and tie then explained that we were greeters at 11AM Mass. Wait a minute! What do I do? What do I say? Shouldn’t there be some sort of training for this? You do know people scare me…don’t you? “Just say good morning and give them a prayer book” she cajoled. Maybe I should practice in front of the mirror. “It’s too late for that” says she pinning the official greeter name tag on my lapel.

Good morning!...Good morning!....Good morning!....Good morning!
Good morning!...Good morning!..................................

Well! That wasn’t so bad.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a wife who always challenges me to be someone I’m not.
Truly, I am not who I used to be.
Yet, I am not who I am going to be.
Please, Lord, make me into who You want me to be.

Amen


3/22/2009

Saturday, March 21, 2009

What’s My Zip Code?

I am supposed to be cleaning out the garage to make room for the wife’s car who’s exterior has faded. I meant the car’s exterior not the wife’s. But I began worrying about other issues that seem more important. The economy, the country’s leadership, the moral state of the country in general

My faith in all the above is dwindling. The economy with all the money shufflers and money changers is a problem. I think the rule is: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods". Our neighbor’s goods…that’s what 401Ks and such are made of. Greed seems to be the order of the day…certainly it is neither prudence nor common sense. Our political leaders apparently did not get the memo on “Thou shalt not kill." They are eager to spend our tax dollars on butchering the unborn and partially born in the name of choice and change.

Where am I…Sodom, or possibly Gomorrah? I need to check my zip code. I am feeling like Lot must have felt when he was told to take his family and leave. Sometimes it feels like I am all alone and I think surely there must be fifty others that think as I. Maybe forty-five? Forty? Thirty-five? Twenty five? How about ten? OK! I need to get out of town, change my zip and don’t look back.


Father God thank you for a clear set of absolute truths and rules to follow.
Thank you Jesus for your example of how to follow the rules.
Please, Holy Spirit, help me stay focused on Jesus and not look back.
Amen

Friday, March 20, 2009

Pondering Pain

In the early morning dark the moist chilly air was uncomfortable as it rushed over me. Gradually the slow burn from my legs circulated throughout my entire body until I welcomed the cool air as it refreshed and carried away the unwanted heat generated by my pedaling. The dense fog gave things an eerie cast and made the light from a lonesome car disburse and backlight each and ever particle of moisture. I pondered the meaning of it all. I thought of life and death, suffering and pain. I thought of my aging aunt who had recently fallen and broken her arm and how much pain she must be in. I thought of you, Lord Jesus, and how much pain you went though and still do…when I, your child, do prideful things and say “it doesn’t hurt anyone else”. That part I have only come to understand and appreciate because of my children. Is that why you give us children...so that they bring us to our knees? I am sure their view point is “it’s not hurting anyone else”. But it does hurt…it hurts me when I see them hurting themselves…breaking Your commandments. Oh yeah! Sorry about that…Mom and Dad…all that I put you through. Yes! If I only knew then what I know now…it would have been different.

Thank you, Lord, for giving meaning to pain and suffering.
Please accept my meager aches and pains as a small token of my appreciation for what you have done for me.
Please, Lord Jesus, help me keep my eyes focused on You.
Amen.

3/20/2009

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Happy Hour

It’s five o’clock, and here I am here again. This is getting to be a habit. Coming here, getting high and hanging out. I am almost embarrassed. Oh Well! At least my clothes don’t smell like cigarette smoke. And I am not going to be hung over. It is five AM not PM. Adoration is pretty cool. Getting high on Jesus. Hanging out at church. Not all habits are bad.

Thank you, Lord Jesus for letting me spend this “happy hour” with you.

“It’s five o’clock some where.”

Amen

3/11/2007