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!