Memorare

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to you, O Virgin of virgins my Mother; to you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me. Amen.

I’ve been trying hard to focus on just being present where I am these last several days. The presence of three large humans with all their calorie consuming, excessive laundry, and eLearning insanity makes it a tad impossible to NOT be acutely aware of exactly what is happening today. Noticing the moment is easy when the TV is being utilized to create a virtual NCAA March Madness tournament, and when between belching contests the conversation really is a continual questioning of one another’s manhood. Typically, my random weekdays do not contain, well…any of those things. Much to my dismay, the Thieme men also seem to be growing “corona beards”. I complained about this to my pastor, and he laughed and declared it a perfectly fine response considering how their lives are largely outside their control currently. I mean, WHATEVER! He isn’t the one who has to look at that scary, partial puberty THING attached to Zach’s face all day long. Damn it, Fr. Richard, ha?!!

It’s not all fun and games here, though.  Just like at your house, the 5 of us (along with many folks in our circle) have challenges to face that none of us were expecting.  I’d name some, but I don’t need to.  If you’re alive in March 2020, you already know.  Nothing is normal, but that doesn’t mean we can’t press on, go on living even amid adversity.  I don’t know about you, but I find I’m learning what my deepest identity really is about. 

Today is the Solemnity of the Annunciation in the Catholic Church, and its timing seems fitting to me.  I read a little sentence today by Deacon Keith Fournier which seems like a golden nugget.  He said, “Mary’s prayer teaches us to stay afloat in the ocean of life, with all of its underflows.”

I remember the Franciscan sisters who taught me in grade school telling me as an 8^th grader that she was likely about my age then (14 or so) when the angel Gabriel appeared to her.  What the what?  I was shocked by that.  Mary was a young woman, a phenomenal instrument of divine grace, in the middle of her extremely ordinary life.  For me, she’s the ultimate wake-up call to remind me what divinity exists in all of us. 

God called an unremarkable teenage girl and after she paused for a moment, perhaps a bit confused, she answered with “I am the handmaiden of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your Word.” 

A few years back, there was a blizzard here in Indiana on my birthday.  Schools were closed for the day, and my parents were stuck in Carmel with us overnight.  We laughed, built a snowman, and played cards all day.  It was a memorable event, because typically I plant pansies in the front flowerpots to celebrate the occasion of my birthday.  It’s my own personal “spring is coming” rite of passage each year.  Honestly, I thought mother nature’s blizzard birthday couldn’t be topped, but this year, the coronavirus kinda said “hold my beer” to that.

Here’s the thing. No one loves birthdays like me. I just adore them—yours and mine!! Some folks are low key about these events. I am NOT THAT GIRL. I typically search out the birthdays of friends fairly quickly into the connection. Loving people up, even against their will…it’s my favorite. We should all have a moment where we reflect to celebrate the gift of life. It’s important and holy. That’s my view. I have been praying A LOT EXTRA and so the Holy Spirit had already been tugging at me to just enjoy the day as I awoke on my 49^th birthday (which happened yesterday). As surreal as the world seems, I was determined to do just that. Keep in mind, I am the consummate extrovert, so this cloister concept (while necessary) is positively maddening, and not my idea of the perfect birthday celebration—at all!!

As my day began, I re-read a passage from a book I loved which solidified for me my instruction from the Lord for the day. In it, the author recounts being greeted by a poor man who appeared at her office with the words, “Good morning! I came to greet you!” She went on to say that was ALL he wanted. To greet her, like an angel of annunciation was his sole reason for visiting. He might as well have said, “Take off your shoes- this is holy ground.”

Be present, God ordered.  I am right here waiting for you, He said.  This is the overwhelming goodness that exploded all over me.  Just let the day happen, Shelly, and see how God loves you.

A text came through from my dear friend Lisa.  She proposed “a social distancing walk” for my birthday.  It was chilly and we wore hats and winter coats, but it was DIVINE.  She wrote me a beautiful note, a great gift for a girl whose love language is certainly words of affirmation.

On my porch was a handmade card and flowers from my friend Ann.  It was covered with photos of so many of the people I love.  “Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer,” she wrote while offering a virtual birthday hug.

A package came from my sis, and my niece Maddie sent me sampling of her piano playing talents playing “Happy Birthday” on the keyboards from Chicago via the Marco Polo app.  We giggled back and forth as a family all day on that silly bit of technology.

My parents, who have never missed a single birthday in my life, ordered a birthday cake at Meijer and had Nick pick it up along with flowers.  They sang to me too, once I let them know it had arrived.

A bag full of toilet paper, purell, hand soap and Kleenex (among other thoughtful items) was dropped on my doorstep by the Zimmerman family.  Oh my goodness I cackled at their thoughtfulness and creativity! 

The Thieme guys and I ate take out from Boom Bozz and we overtipped the staff.  I opened a thoughtful gift from Tom (thanks Renee for the assist!!) and the boys each presented me with a “Dear Mom” love letter.  They will find them again tucked deep in a drawer after I am buried, by the way.  Holy cow.  You guys.  I tried not to be so all up in my feelings, but I read them again this morning and the lump in my throat was for real.  I did exactly nothing to deserve such wonderful sons.  Heck, they even agreed to watch the Mr. Rogers movie with me—the one starring Tom Hanks.  I have to admit that for the Thieme men, this movie turned out to be a comedy.  It wasn’t intended to be, but the cardigan, creepy puppets, poor singing and the land of imagination….they didn’t translate well for my young men who wondered quite audibly “what the hell was your childhood about anyway?”  I shut down the judgement just a skosh when I began singing the old “Clean up” song they remembered a certain giant purple dinosaur used to sing when they were kids.  There was plenty of laughter, so I’m calling it a birthday win.

My phone lit up all day with funny texts and sappy notes, while birthday greetings filled up my Facebook feed. 

My pastor and friend?  He offered his private mass for me.  That kindness TOOK MY BREATH AWAY. 

It turns out, the coronavirus birthday was a whole lot of beautiful. It was an explosion of kindness and love.  I snuck in some extra prayers for those who had asked, and a few who hadn’t and thanked God more authentically than I had in a long time.  There were tears of gratitude. 

I finished the day understanding once more that we can bring joy by being kind, change a life with kindness, we can literally infect others with our good deeds. It’s an outflowing of love which is born of God. He can use us all to scatter blessings if we just cooperate the tiniest little bit. This March, life is less busy. I know I don’t usually stop long enough to cherish them all or give thanks for the love He wants to give us which is more than we can fathom.

Yesterday, I had an experience of the holy.  It wasn’t a big event, it was more like people throwing a few pieces of popcorn at me all day long.  Yet, the presence of Christ was powerfully clear to me.  

It lead me to this thought today.  The central focus of the Annunciation is the Incarnation.  God has become one of us.  Mary has an important role in God’s divine plan.

The thing is, not unlike us right now, the circumstances Mary found herself in must have seemed more than a little surreal. Think about it. She was to become the mother of the Lord, and that sounds kinda cool to us 2000 years later…but in practical terms? Not to be crass, but she was a pregnant virgin? Umm. How’s that gonna sell? She had to wonder what was ahead. But the battle wasn’t hers. She simply issued her fiat and said YES to the Lord. She trusted Him with her life. It seems to me today to be the perfect example of faithfulness for a time such as this.

Today on my walk, I saw only a few cars.  The streets were empty, and behind us a truck came.  It honked and pulled around us a tad closely and a bit too aggressively. It flat out wasn’t that cool of a thing to do on a neighborhood street full of walkers and more kids out playing than normal.  On another day, I might have been irked or even given the guy a dirty look.  Instead, I prayed for him on my way home.  Perhaps he just lost his job?  Maybe he worked a long shift at a hospital?  How am I to know?

I’ve been trying hard to focus on just being present where I am these last several days. Nothing is normal, but lets just do one day at a time, huh? Let’s do our little part, be a little EXTRA. I want to be for others the exact thing all of you were for me yesterday- the face of Jesus. I can’t maybe do anything big, but I can throw my piece of popcorn.

God’s in charge here.  He’s not afraid of the coronavirus.  It’s time to tell our mountain how big our God is, folks. 

“My past, O Lord, to Your mercy, my present to Your love; my future to Your providence.  (St. Padre Pio) 

For lack of attention, a thousand forms of loveliness elude us everyday.  –Evelyn Underhill

It’s not worth your time, Jesus. I’ll be fine and other people are in much worse shape.

But see the thing is, the Lord isn’t fooled by our pride.  He knows what troubles us, and He wants to help us bear our crosses, whatever it is that is burdening our hearts.  This is true even when we feel like we are being melodramatic and ungrateful as we compare our suffering to others. 

Small wounds can still mean deep suffering.  “Trust God at all times, my people!  Pour out your hearts to God our refuge.”  There is our instruction.  Right there in Psalm 62.  He knows what we need before we ask, but He wants us to ask. 

So, if you’re thinking, “It’s nothing major” but it’s bothering you nevertheless…get over yourself. Snap out of it! If we over-entertain our feelings, we can easily lose sight of the Lord. Lonely stinks. Talk to Jesus!

The advice, above, is excellent. In different forms, the same message has been shared with me over time by some folks I consider to be spiritual giants, and I’ve passed it along to others the best I can. Over many cups of latte, I’ve assured a few amazing humans that I don’t want them to censor themselves around me. I’ve stopped friends mid-sentence when they say things like “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but…”

Be a freak.  Act like a lunatic.  I still love you.  That’s what I hear myself say.  Over and over.  I mean it, and I believe God does too.

A few days ago, in the “olden times” when Starbucks still had comfy chairs you could use inside their establishments, a new friend was sharing about her meltdown.  You see, her daughter has a severely compromised respiratory system and she’s frightened by this coronavirus.  She has already lost one child.  Her worry had her texting me a bit more frantically than usual last week, and she was right in the middle of judging herself over her degree of neediness.  I told her to CUT IT OUT.  Not the neediness, but the apologies.  She persisted, explaining that I seem to be so calm, so firmly fixed—sensible and sane.  She worried how she sounded. 

She sounded to me like a mother who loves her daughter fiercely.

Ah, I thought.  She hasn’t met my crazy, needy, loud parts yet.  Poor woman has no idea what’s coming the moment she least expects it, because I have impressive capacity for sudden psychotic episodes of melodrama.  I told her I am not keeping score, and I meant it.  I showed her a text I had sent to Tom at work the previous day.  I’m going to share (an edited version) of it here.  For context, as my college aged sons were in various degrees of duress over the cancellation of college classes, I explained to my patient husband that I was a shit show and that I had just said this prayer to the Lord.

“God. I am over it. Just all of it. The coronavirus BS. The classes cancelled, economy tanking, people hoarding toilet paper, graduations canceled…and don’t get me started on all the priests moving. This, and more Lord…just all of it is so f***ing stupid. Maybe you can pour a little grace on us all for a hot second? Amen.”

Perhaps not my holiest moment? Yes, indeedy, I can be charming as hell.  But, I know I am not “too much” for God.  He and I are intimate friends, and me being me is the only way this works. 

So, Tom read my text “prayer” and suggested that I might need some fresh air. I thought “WELL DUH!! HOW COULD I NOT THINK OF THAT?! I TOTALLY NEED A WALK.” So, I put on my coat and gloves, and I walked. Tom’s insight (and experience) with my histrionics, along with his words of advice were actual balm for my heart that day, because for whatever reason, I had gotten amped up very quickly. I think it was the depth of sadness my college senior was feeling upon realizing that he had already attended his last college class the week before when he left for spring break. He’s been looking forward to these last weeks at Xavier University with such joy. The thought that college was essentially done, and the likelihood that there may not even be a graduation…it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me that day. The mama bear tendencies do not end when a kid becomes a grown man, in case you were wondering.

An earlier version of me would have said nothing to Jesus.  Perhaps for days.   Or, I might have said, “It’s nothing, Lord.  Look at the suffering of others.”

God wants me to ask Him to heal it.  All of it.  Every day.  He’s right here, wondering where we are, just waiting.

I’ve revealed myself a little today, huh? Don’t mind me, I’m just a charming girl with temper and patience issues who very occasionally F-bombs the God of the universe. Since my outburst, the bishops have shut down all the masses, the adoration chapels, and the sacraments I hold dear. It’s really so incredibly devastating to me honestly. Strangely, I’ve made a fair amount of peace with it on this particular day. Venting, prayer, coffee and exercise is my personal secret sauce FOR TODAY.

I’m basically typing in the corner of my bedroom at a glorified card table writing at this moment. I’ve cleaned out the office for Tom so he can work from home. I had Z haul the table up, and Nick brought me an old chair from the basement storage room. It’s raining buckets and there’s a bird sitting in the tree outside my window. I created a prayerful little space for myself.

Allow me to digress a moment and tell you about Etty Hillesum.  She was a Jewish woman from Amsterdam and from her Nazi confinement in Auschwitz, she wrote this glorious advice.  “Get into touch with that little piece of eternity inside you,” she penned.  Imagine what a woman of grace she must have been to express her desire to become the balm for the wounds of others, while living in a concentration camp.  Just wow.  Her brief, beautiful life ended there at age 29, but for me the words she left behind are powerful.

The force of love is a powerful bond which binds us all together.

So, with that in mind, let me tell you about the last couple days at the Thieme house.  We have only one of three Thieme young men presently attempting online learning.  The college boys will start that next week.  I’ll write a compelling, perhaps comedic essay about the trials and tribulations of that hilarious adventure sometime soon.  I mean, we all need to laugh.  One person I feel for thus far is my friend, Pam, who teaches kindergarten.  Imagine designing online school for kindergarteners?  What fresh version of hell must that be?  HAHAHA!!!?  So far, Z is surviving Guerin Catholic online just fine.

Yesterday, I went to Carmel High School to help a little. Productivity and good deeds help keep me interiorly sunny, so I was thrilled to be asked. Apparently, there were about 600 students who would not be able to receive the lunches they count on at school, so the CCS and the Merciful Help Center (located on the campus of OLMC) worked together to get groceries to those families. For the record, Jayne Slaton of the MHC is the living embodiment of Matthew 25. A couple of hours into this adventure, we were wet and hungry. I called my two clowns at home with an SOS. They promptly brought 7 Jimmy Johns pizzas, and dry socks…THANK YOU GOD. They waived cars in and loaded groceries in trunks, then they did the heavy lifting on the packing up of the MHC truck when we finished. They were NOT happy that I took their photo wearing the bright orange vests which made them resemble slightly a road crew let out from the county jail for this express purpose. At their ages, 22 and 15, I wouldn’t have had a good attitude either…and I definitely would have pitched a fit about having my photo taken in a vest that made me look like an inmate. These two young men rolled with it, and I was proud of them. They snuck in a little golf together in the afternoon—something neither one of them dreamed they’d be doing together this spring.

Work to focus on being present today. That’s what I hear the Holy Spirit whispering to me in this smelly house. The increased burping and other guttural noises aside, we really do need to take our shoes off a minute, wiggle our toes…and realize we are all on holy ground. My kids are here. God is here. Where am I?

This morning, I got a text from Fr. Richard asking for help, so I picked up leftover grocery bags and took them back to the Merciful Help Center to be distributed. It was the tiniest task, one I wouldn’t think twice about normally. It would have just been a “thing” in my day. Today, I was super grateful for the chance to just do a little something to help someone else. It felt nice.

Now that the Lord has my attention, I’m starting to spot a kindness pandemic.

Nick told me that Xavier called him to just check in. Apparently, Muskie administrators made personal calls to all the seniors, knowing they are feeling this coronavirus emergency in a big way. Today, I also saw families receiving needed food, and Jayne Slaton standing on the curb at OLMC with her foot in a boot, wearing gloves and a protective mask– showing us all what compassion looks like and that hunger doesn’t stop for pandemics. There were volunteers rushing around to unload groceries. I heard about 2 local doctors asking for prayers as they do their work in hospitals that anticipate being quite overwhelmed in coming days. Another friend shared how she paid her beautician via Venmo, even though the appointment was cancelled, because she can bear the burden, but her hairdresser can’t go without income. Someone else shared that they ordered take out and tipped the employee who brought the food to the curb 100%.

I read recently in a lovely book that “refugees tend relationships like precious wake flames because that is all they have.” You see, they know more than most that whatever we pay attention to grows. I think that God puts us in the way of each other for a reason. He’s giving us a chance to grow in love.

Then, it happened. I had a little experience of the holy today. It became 4pm here in Indiana and I gathered up the boys and we joined in on that “worldwide” rosary ordered by Pope Francis, together in the family room. You guys, I am pretty sure that’s the first time I have ever prayed the rosary in my family room with my children. Proud of my track record? No. But today God opened a door and we walked through it. It was lovely.

WHATEVER WE PAY ATTENTION TO GROWS.

In our busy lives, we seldom slow down enough to cherish or give thanks for the blessings God is continually scattering our lives with each and every day.  When we stop to notice we are blessed and beloved, we can then let it spill out to others—like a kindness pandemic.

God’s got us.  Let’s just finish today, then we’ll work out how to be love tomorrow. 

Peace out, friends!