Large flag hangs from the bell tower of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Wash DC today. (photo cred: Catholic News Service)
“I just rode up those elevators to the top with Mom to celebrate her 50th birthday,” I said to a roomful of no one listening. They were all glued to the TV, like me, aghast. We were suddenly and radically changed individually and as a nation that day 13 years ago.
“I’m leaving to pick up my boys, and I am going to spend the rest of the day hugging them,” I declared to no one in particular. Then, I got up and left the office. No one objected. My room full of office mates were stunned and frozen in place, barely glancing up.
They are 3 and 1, I thought, driving back to the daycare center. Into what kind of world have I brought them…?
Where were YOU that morning? Every American over the age of about 20 can answer this.
Today is a day to memorialize, remember, and above all PRAY.
At Guerin Catholic High School today where my older boys attend school, an all school mass was held. Fr. Joshua Janko paid tribute to those lost on Sept. 11, 2001 and he challenged us to listen to the words of the Gospel. He powerfully acknowledged how difficult the words of Jesus seem to be on this day.
“Jesus said to his disciples: To you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you…” (Lk 6:27-28)
How can we possibly love those who desire to harm us? I’ve got to be honest, it’s 13 years later and I’m not sure. I do know everything is possible with God. Our prayer releases the power within us to be the hands and face of Christ, to do good, if you will, in the face of evil. It’s not about them, it’s about you and me and our God– who IS love itself.
God loves without limits. He is all good. I’m honestly not sure how to rectify this when in the presence of that which is truly evil. So, the Lord calls me to trust. Good gracious that can be hard some days.
“Come unto me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Mt. 11:28)
I give THANKS today for:
Police Officers and Fire Fighters, whose daily sacrifices I didn’t even begin to notice prior to 9/11/01. You are heroes where you live, and I am proud of you and grateful for your service.
Our US Armed Forces, to each soldier past and present, I thank you for what you have done to protect the collective freedoms of all of us who call the United States of America our own.
My faith, the most beautiful gift from God, and without which I would be lost. Thank you, Lord, for the grace of strong faith!
Today, I admit I am struggling with the challenge offered by Jesus and echoed by Fr. Janko. I don’t want to pray for terrorists.
My dear friend, Janet (L) and her beautiful sister, Shannon (R).
Dear Jesus, I do trust You, but I don’t get it. I know You love us, but wrapping my head around this is impossible. She is with You now, in arms more loving than I can imagine. Help us to trust in Your plan for all of us. Fill Connor and Danny, Jan, Colleen, Rita and Danny with grace and peace. I ask this in Your most holy name. Amen.
He folded his little body in half, burying his face between his knees. No sound came from him but a puddle was forming on the otherwise dry sidewalk there on the bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. The grotto said, “Our Lady of Lourdes” but I thought of her that day as Our Lady of Sorrows.
It had been two days since she died, but we were out of town and isolated from the media and friends and I couldn’t figure out how to tell my freckle faced little man. I knew he loved her. She had just taken him to Steak N Shake along with Connor, Anth, Mikey and Ty between baseball games. It’s what baseball moms do. She was the teacher who taught them all how to hold their hands when they received Jesus for the first time. It’s what 2nd grade teachers do in Catholic schools everywhere. But, she did them, as all things, with special panache, filled with a twinkle in her eye.
Dealing with death is a fact of life, it’s true. This is different though. It broke me to think of it, and it crushed my spirit into 1000 pieces having to shatter the innocent childhood of my beautiful boy by telling him.
“Honey?”
“What’s going on mom? Why is no one telling me what’s going on?”
“Sweetheart, it’s Mrs. Hall. She died, Zach.”
“What do you mean? I just saw her. She was fine.”
“Zach. She died. I want you to listen to me carefully. Mr. Hall died too.”
“Mom? How? An accident?”
“ Mrs. Hall died when Mr. Hall shot her, and then himself. It was not an accident. It’s one of the most terrible things I can imagine, Z. We can’t be sure why something like this ever happens. You know, sometimes people can’t think straight and they are really sick even though they look okay on the outside. I know you want to understand why….but for now none of us know, and we are all sad. I think we should just focus on what we can do. We can pray.”
“I’m so so sad for Connor and Danny, Mom.”
“I know, Z. Me too. Me too.” “Spread love wherever you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.” –Mother Teresa
She died on July 27. It’s been a month.
I was not her Mom, or her Dad. I was not her sister or her son. I was not her nephew, niece, nor was I her best friend. I saw her frequently, and we were friends. We were “Bring Z over and swim” or “You know I am going to eat all of your sunflower seeds if you keep them there” kind of friends.
A month feels like 5 minutes. I was expecting her to walk into the lunchroom and tease me with her smile when I was at SLDM last week with my apron on saying, “What? No Diet Coke? I bet you brought a Coke for Jan! I keep telling her that I found you first and she stole you from me.”
She taught all three of my children and showed up every day with a smile, despite any personal hardship she might be going through on any given day. I saw her with fair clarity, and “I don’t mean to be mean” but Shannon was not perfect nor did she claim to be. Who among us is? It doesn’t change her legacy an ounce.
What I have learned as I have prayed, watched, listened and reflected in one month is that God called her to live that “Spread love” mantra of Mother Teresa and she did it with style and substance. She was not just smiling; she was giving us all an authentic piece of God when she twinkled those smiling Irish eyes in our direction.
My heart hurts—especially for those two boys. I pray, and then I pray some more. I try and make deals with God, and sometimes I tell Him that His plan sucks canal water.
Today, as the one month anniversary of her death is just hours away, I find myself thinking about what Shannon would have done if a terrible tragedy had happened to me, or you, or any one of the thousands in her path?
I know the answer right away. She would let her light shine every chance she had. She would pray with her class, give excessive numbers of hugs and she would keep on keeping on. She would spread love.
I’m not yet ready to change my prayer. I have it memorized now.
Dear Jesus, I do trust You, but I don’t get it. I know You love us, but wrapping my head around this is impossible. She is with You now, in arms more loving than I can imagine. Help us to trust in Your plan for all of us. Fill Connor and Danny, Jan, Colleen, Rita and Danny with grace and peace. I ask this in Your most holy name. Amen.
Tomorrow’s challenge: Let your light shine. Let no one come to you without leaving happier.
BRING IT, PEOPLE! Who’s with me?
Children’s Museum “selfie”, including photobomb by Drew and Grandpa!
Spring Break 2014 is looking good so far.
Two of my three favorite young men are home lounging with me and yesterday we were greeted with a lovely sighting. Grandma Kate and Grandpa Jim brought us some special visitors from Chicago. A rarely and smiley day of fun with Aunt Robbi, along with cousins Maddie and Ellie ensued. We giggled our way through the Indianapolis Children’s Museum then onto a late lunch before most of the crew headed off to see either “The Muppets” or “Noah” and I drove down to Bishop Chatard High School to catch some Guerin Catholic baseball action where son # 3 simply couldn’t be left without a fan base, despite the rain.
Granted, it’s not sun and sand, but it’s an overflowing scoop of favorite people topped off with the angelic little toothless grin of my youngest Goddaughter, Ellie! Elle-belle is a 1st grader at All Saint’s Academy near my sister’s home in Naperville, IL.
“Aunt Thelly. I read at thcool math. But it wathn’t even fair. The reading wath impothible. It wath full of eth-eth”
I couldn’t stop smiling at her. She was just like a piece of candy….you want to eat her up she is so sweet.
“Thesse thent hith theven thons to Thamuel.” She explained.
“Jesse sent his seven sons to Samuel?” I interpreted. “That’s what you had to read at school mass, Ellie?”
“Yeth!”
I mean, she’s 40lbs of sunshine that one. I couldn’t stop laughing. That moment of toothless cuteness is just a tiny window of time I now realize as my boys are all well past it. I SOOOO wish I could have been a fly on the wall at that mass. I think it’s a little rude of my sis to marry a guy from Chicago and move so far from me, actually. Don’t you agree?
Today is Spring Break day 2 and it’s a bit lower key. I let my two “staycationers” sleep in while I headed to 8am mass. As I was getting ready to leave, my “holy texting friend” Vivian invited me (via text of course) to come sit with she and her hubby for the mass, after which I had set up an appointment for confession.
If I am honest, I didn’t sleep well last night. I was reflecting again on what I needed to apologize to Jesus about and I was tossing and turning. This confession seemed particularly overdue. There are loads of things every day I do or don’t do, or say, for which I know I need forgiveness. I suppose they had been piling up a bit.
Really, though, the biggest impediment for me in being the woman Jesus means for me to be this day is my own lack of forgiveness of myself. Many times, even after I know Jesus has forgiven me, I hang on to my sin, beating myself up over mistakes big and small.
My inner dialogue goes something like this:
Shelly. You know better and look at you. You act like you love God but you are just a worthless sinner. What qualifies you to talk about faith with your kids or friends? You’re nothing but a hypocrite anyway.
When it starts to sound like insanity, a broken record inside my crazy head, I know that I am overdue for some sacramental assistance.
It’s funny what happens when I pray “Jesus, I don’t know what I need, but You do, please help me. I want to love You more.”
“Shelly, Satan is clever. He’s insidious. He knows just what to do to disarm you. Lack of forgiveness of self, stirring up old wounds, that’s the devil. The prayer to St. Michael is a prayer of exorcism– say it. It will help you,” said my confessor very matter-of-factly.
We talked a bit more, and he absolved me, then he handed me a book. He asked me to read it, giving me the assignment of reading the first chapter as my official penance.
As I left my realization was that I cannot allow myself to be far from the grace of the sacraments. I need to be at mass receiving Jesus and I need more frequent receipt of the sacrament of reconciliation. Our priests are exhausted, and so I feel guilty asking for even more of their time. The thing is, that whole “the last thing Father needs is a call asking for time from a pain in the ass housewife”… that’s not righteous guilt. What that is about is Satan trying to take away what I know… by any means he can find which will work to unravel me. However, he cannot. Jesus loves me. This I know.
“St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”
Shortly after I returned home today, I got an amazingly well timed message from a friend via email. It was a copied little piece of a larger work of commentary on David by an author with whom I am not yet familiar named Mark Buchanan.
I don’t believe in coincidence. God’s perfect timing is at work.
In Louis Ginzberg’s monumental 7-volume work The Legend of the Jews, a compilation of the Jewish oral tradition, he retells the story of David in paradise.
According to the legend, David is the superstar of the after life, a personage of “glory and grandeur,” whose throne sits opposite God’s and from which David “intones wondrously beautiful psalms.”
David’s “crown… outshines all others, and whenever he moves out of Paradise to present himself before God, suns, stars, angels, seraphim, and other holy beings run to meet him.”
But the main thrust of the legend is David’s relationship with God.
God throws a lavish feast on the Day of Judgment, and God at David’s bidding himself attends.
At the end of the banquet, God invites Abraham to pray over the cup of wine. Abraham declines on grounds of his unworthiness.
At the point I read this, I think, “Ok God. I’m listening. What are you doing to me today?”
It goes on.
So God asks Isaac, who for similar reasons declines. God then turns to Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Joshua. All beg off for reasons of unworthiness.
Finally, God asks David to bless the cup. And David replies, “Yes, I will pronounce the blessing, for I am worthy of the honor.”
At first blush, this is shocking as I read it. It seems brazen and delusional. Who do you think you are?
The author goes on.
“On second thought, this sounds biblical. The heart of the Bible’s message, muted in the Old Covenant but shouted aloud in page after page of the New, is the improbable, astonishing, breathtaking good news that I am the one Jesus loves.
I am the tax-collector whose house Jesus had to enter, so that salvation could invade it.
I am the leper who cried out to Jesus on his way past Samaria, so that he could speak wholeness into me and then woo me back to worship him.
I am the lame man whose friends lowered me down through the rafters, so that Jesus could speak forgiveness and healing to me.
I am the invalid Jesus found in a dark part of town, bed-ridden and complaining, so that he could say to me, “Get up, take up your mat, and walk.”
I am the prodigal he saw a long way off, who ran to me, threw a feast for me, put his robe and ring and sandals on me.
I am the elder brother who refused to join the party, and so he went out to me and begged me to come in.
I am Lazarus, the one he raised from the dead and then invited to recline with him at the table.
I am not worthy to bless the cup, except He makes me so.
At great cost, all by his own doing, Jesus makes me his own, loves me without condition, forgives me without remainder, places his own name on me, puts his own Spirit in me, and goes ahead to prepare a place for me.
He’s made me a chosen people, a holy nation, a royal priesthood, one who belongs to God.
I am the one Jesus loves.
Let that rattle around a bit. Then say this out loud.
THE AUTHOR OF SALVATION IS CRAZY, MADLY IN LOVE….WITH ME.
You’d think this would be the end of my entry for today, wouldn’t you? But for me, who is a certifiable supernatural thinker, it got even better.
So, I read this lovely email which spoke just exactly to the sinfulness which was most bothering me this morning and I felt it was God kind of yelling at me to get it together. I quite literally took a deep breath and said ALOUD, “Thank you, God. I am listening. Your will, not mine…I get it. You love me. I love you.”
DING.
“One new email message has just arrived.”
I click on it, and the email makes me laugh aloud.
It’s from the editor of a Catholic periodical asking ME to write an article on THIS bit of scripture “How can we know the way?” (Jn 14:5).
What took you so long, Lord? I mean, I think I agreed to try it Your way about 6 seconds ago.
You best be sending the Holy Spirit in a big bad way if You want ME to show anyone the way to anywhere, Big Man. I can get lost on the way to the bathroom sometimes.
Our God is an Awesome God. He also makes me laugh. And laughing makes me smile.
My 16 year old son, Nick, with his first car…a 2003 Hyundai Santa Fe!
Oh what a day! Oh, what a day!
My baby brother ran away.
And now my tuba will not play!
I’m eight years old and turning gray.
Oh, what a day! Oh, what a day!
–Shel Silverstein
Admit it, this is a lively little poem, huh? It’s catchy, silly and it rhymes. Silverstein’s work stuck in my brain when I was a girl the first time I heard it. Anytime I exhale the words “Oh, what a day” (for reasons either positive or negative) I can’t help repeating this goofy, brilliant little poem at top speed right behind it. Sometimes I even do it aloud, which typically elicits a stare which wonders silently about my mental capacity.
OH WHAT A DAY!
The forecast this gray day called for 6-10 inches of additional snow in my weather weary hometown of Carmel, Indiana. Ugh. But, it’s a big day here at the Thieme house, so I shook off Chuck Lofton and Al Roker with their unfriendly news of the morning and got ready to face the day.
As the mother of a son who has reached the age of 16 years, 183 days, it happened to be the first date on the calendar where he was both eligible to receive his Indiana driver’s license AND the BMV is open. It’s a big day.
I’ll never forget my own Dad leaving work to come and pick me up at Central Catholic High School the day I was eligible for my license many moons ago. Mom and Dad didn’t make me wait until a day and time that was practical…when there was no school or sports conflict, for instance. They let their inner teenager lead the way. I recall extreme gratefulness and pure joy!!
OH WHAT A DAY!
First, however, there was the carpool full of grade schoolers to escort to St. Louis de Montfort Catholic School. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I felt a strong inner tug to stop for daily mass. It’s something I do with fair regularity, but I lack discipline and so hadn’t necessarily planned to do so this morning. But I have prayed much of late asking for God’s help on this weakness so the tug was all His perfect timing. Okay, Holy Spirit, I thought. You win. I keep praying about how I need Your help with discipline in all things…physical, spiritual, practical. Thanks for being loud. I hear you. Mass it is.
Just moments after my arrival, in came my father-in-law. I quickly realized God nudged me intentionally and for a specific reason. My silent quick glance to heaven was a prayer of thanksgiving.
“Is mass this morning being said for Jane?” I quizzed.
“Yes. “
We sat together, sang together, and Fr. John asked us to bring up the offertory. It was a lovely, intimate mass and I had the opportunity to pray aloud for the souls of two cherished family members whose losses are fresh and for peace for all of us who mourn. We held hands as we said the Our Father and we hugged at the sign of peace. It felt like a great and undeserved gift and if I am honest my heart was aching with both the losses and the overwhelming gratitude for a God who would love me so much that He would know just how to nudge me into attendance so that I wouldn’t miss His incredibly beautiful hug this morning.
OH WHAT A DAY!
At midday, my oldest son got his driver’s license, picked up his first car (a 2003 Hyundai Santa Fe) and got his first tank of gas courtesy of the thoughtful and pretty terrific Dawn and Craig Miller at Indy Auto Source. He drove himself to grab and sandwich, and he made his way home across 116th St. for the very first time all alone. He acknowledged that his dad and I were due “some extra love” and gave me a high five. Exuberance and joy were quite evident on his scruffy teenaged face. I told him that if God blesses him with a family someday to remember how he felt this morning, continue to work hard in school, and pass on the moment one day to my grandchild. I also told him I loved him and am proud of him and that he has given us no reason not to expect he will be extremely responsible with his newfound freedom. Then, a tear I could not reign in fell down my cheek. He smartly ignored it.
OH WHAT A DAY!
What else? They poured the floor in the basement of my soon to be home today. That job was finished moments before the snow began to fall. That would be the same snow that is not supposed to stop until nearly a foot of it has collected. I am not a builder, nor have I recently slept in a Holiday Inn, so I don’t understand that decision.
My friend, Kris, asked our help for her daughter at Purdue that suffered a bad fall today and was in need of medical attention. She reached out knowing our families are both from Lafayette. We passed along the names of a couple doctors, the best ER in town and our promise for prayers for our fellow Boilermaker. A CT scan and X-ray later, we learned there’s no internal bleeding….Thank you God!
My youngest forgot his reading book, my carpool partner called to warn of a problem for her 4th grader arriving home in my car, the ball games were cancelled (again), the kitchen is covered in melting snow footprints, and three friends offered to get my kiddo home from school. Chase is sending me a new credit card because they think someone is trying to steal my identity. Oh, and the 9 year old is thrilled I remembered the peanut butter crackers on my grocery run.
And NOW, here comes the SNOWVERLOAD!!
OH WHAT A DAY! OH WHAT A DAY! MY BABY BROTHER RAN AWAY. AND NOW MY TUBA WILL NOT PLAY. I’M 8 YEARS OLD AND TURNING GRAY. OH WHAT A DAY, OH WHAT A DAY!!
Like moms everywhere, the life I live is completely without glitz. It used to be that I struggled to find my worth in the invisibility that is the day to day existence of the stay-at-home mom. Now, I realize this is the most important work imaginable and I only get one chance to give it my best shot. I am so grateful for every silly moment of this snowy February day. My 16-yr old gave me a high five for goodness sakes and I got to hold hands with my pretty amazing father in law and pray with him. It doesn’t get much better than that. This is the journey. This is the good stuff. Today was a crazy day filled with smiles and a few tears.
Here’s my prayer today. Maybe a few of you will find it suits your needs sometime. My great honor would be if you pray along.
Dear Jesus,
I praise you and I thank you for my very full and often invisible life. In each small detail, in each circumstance, I am given a chance to praise You, Lord, and thank You for loving me perfectly. When I choose to smile through both routine and chaos with peace in my heart, grateful for the blessing of my family and friends and the life You provide me, I honor You. Like St. Philip Neri, who was famous for his joyful spirit in right relationship with You, I invite You to be part of all the smallness of my life. I ask Your help with the discipline and desire I need to grow in holiness and ever closer to You.
Amen.
And now, I’ve gotta go!! It’s time to work the snow shovel!
“There’s been a shooting at Purdue today,” said teacher Cathy Cederholm as I finished up my lunchroom duty at St. Louis de Montfort today. “I’m checking up on all my Purdue kids to make sure everyone is safe.”
The information being released is minimal and the situation is still active at my alma mater, which happens to also be my hometown. From here, what I can do is pray for the students, professors, campus employees and passersby who might have been in harm’s way (or feared they were) today.
For the young Boilermakers who are out in the world on their own for the first time and now dealing with a lost sense of safety and security, and for their parents whose hearts stopped beating until they got the “I’m safe and I’m okay” call, there’s little else any of us could do.
Perspective
Sometimes, it takes something extremely serious to help us with perspective. Other times, a tiny moment does the trick.
When my 9 year old glanced upward with that morose little face full of innocent freckles and asked me about this situation on the campus he has visited so many times, I told him that it made me sad too. Then, I just had an honest conversation with him and his 14 year old brother. I told them how we needed to pray for the victim and his family, and also for the shooter. Zach looked up waiting for my explanation on that last part. I shared how no one who understands that they are wonderfully made and truly loved by God would choose to solve their problem with a gun.
I said, “Do you think God loves the boy who made the really bad choice today at Purdue?”
“He’s probably not very happy with him, but He’s God and God always loves us, right Mom?”
“Yep. That’s right, Z.”
Most days, our challenges and concerns aren’t so incredible. For instance, when my oldest son Nick was 4, he was timid. On the soccer field, he stayed outside “the scrum” and watched the other kids fight it out. He was afraid to get hurt, afraid to fall. Learning to ride a bike was therefore a near impossibility…and his dad and I were frustrated by his inability to get out there and meet the world. We wondered if we were failing him in some way. His words were, “I just can’t do it! It’s too hard.” He couldn’t see the freedom waiting for him. We wondered and worried about him like all parents do, especially the first time around. It seemed like such a big deal.
A few days after watching us and our futile attempts with Nick and his bike, a neighbor told us (and our little guy too) about her “magic bike”. She described how her son Will had learned to ride on the “magic bike.” “I could have Will’s uncle bring the bike back from Ohio for you to borrow if you want to try it, Nick” she gently offered. “Yes, Mrs. Volpe, I would like to ride the magic bike.”
Within moments of his little feet touching the pedals of the “magic bike” a couple weeks later, the walls of fear were coming down and suddenly his world was bigger and faster—and much more fun! Freedom is delicious!!
On that particular week 12 years ago, there was both worry and then joy for my young son, Nick as he took off on the rusty old white bike shipped in special from Ohio. It was one of those life moments.
Today, I received a text message from my now 16 yr old (yes, an illegal text sent to his mom from school) wondering about the safety of Will Volpe– the same kid whose bike he borrowed those many years ago, now a Purdue Senior studying engineering.
My grandma used to say “small kids, smaller worries, big kids, bigger worries.” How true. It doesn’t really matter if they are tiny or if they are enormous, though, does it? They are ours all the same and each day we must be prepared to handle what our journey brings as best we can.
Freedom is peace of heart in the middle of the chaos
Over oatmeal and coffee earlier in the week with a girlfriend, we discussed our children. We talked of our hopes for them, the challenges and perils they face growing and maturing, and our need to trust that God will lead us all according to His flawless plan. Being at peace and trusting in God’s plan, trying our best to do His will. That’s freedom, but gosh it’s hard. It’s especially challenging for those of us right in the middle of raising young people in 2014.
As I wondered aloud that day about the school dance and the driver’s license eligibility date approaching, my friend shared with me that her beautiful and remarkably bright daughter frets and struggle so much over the issue of body image. This young lady is a gifted athlete who wears a single digit dress size. If there was ever anyone who should look in the mirror and appreciate God’s creation, it is this young lady.
How can she not delight in it? How can she fail to see how wonderfully made she is?
Her mother sees all this with clarity and not a small amount of angst, yet she seems willing to walk alongside her lovely daughter with a fair amount of peace in her heart, despite the difficulties. She is a godly mother, and to me there seems an innate need on the part of mothers everywhere to love our family by some sort of inner compulsion. It’s how God made us.
Our journey is perilous but we must take it if we want to be free.
Our children are each on their own journey, just as we all are. The important thing is that as we walk, wherever we are, that we learn to know who we are in God’s eyes.
Why? Because we aren’t the author of the story, and the only thing we can count on in this life for sure is that some days are going to take our breath away and we aren’t going to get out alive.
Who am I in God’s eyes? I didn’t know when I was 16. Or 30. I was a slooooow learner. Of course I don’t want that for my 3 boys. I’m sure you’d rather an easier path for those you love as well. UNFORTUNATELY, God isn’t big into sharing when it comes to authorship. He is the Author of Life(Acts 3:15), Author of our Faith (Heb. 12:2), Author of Salvation (Heb. 2:10).
Friends really are a gift from God and that chat felt like a God sighting along Highway Shelly. It helped me so very much as I meandered through this Tuesday afternoon.
Patience and humility are the words of the day. God makes His presence known when He wishes and appears for His own reasons. We have to be, says Fr. Robert Barron “humble and docile in his presence, ready to wait, if necessary, through long hours, days and years, prepared to hear the rush of God….when it comes.”
For the first time maybe ever, I realized today, I feel a legitimate sense of peace. I am not saying I don’t have significant things about me that I don’t like a bit. I loathe that I am sometimes more concerned about me than about others. It bugs me that I don’t get out of bed without hitting the snooze button. It irks me that I lack self-discipline, have a bad attitude towards exercise, and that I drink too much diet coke. I talk too loudly and check my iPhone too often. It drives me crazy that my pride doesn’t allow me to love selflessly the way God wishes. And seriously, what’s up with the kidneys always full of stones?
Here’s the thing. I don’t define myself anymore by what’s lacking in me, by the sins I commit or the suffering that is mine to manage while my God seems far away.
Says Fr. Barron, “When we suffer, we are like the tiny child, sadly and angrily incapable of grasping the reason for our pain, and God is like the father whose only recourse is the invitation to trust.”
Much like my sons are each the child of a crazy lady who insists they shower and occasionally eat from multiple food groups, not to torture them but out of love, I am the child of a merciful God who is wild about me. So are you! Sin or imperfection cannot be allowed to define us. That is a peace stealer and it is NOT OF GOD. God loves me because I am His. It doesn’t have anything to do with what I do or the parts that I don’t like. God loves me because of who He is–and HE IS LOVE.
Here’s my little prayer today.
We praise you God and thank you for making us just as we are. We thank you for our friends, family and all those you have given to walk alongside us in this life. Lord, we ask you to reveal your love to us and to our children in a new and profound way. Help us look in the mirror and say, “Mighty God, I know you love me.” Help me shine like the sun so others may see You through me. Oh, and Jesus…please be with all the Boilermakers who need your powerful presence tonight in their minds and hearts.
Amen.
“Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love.” (1 John 4:8)
I dropped the bag full of groceries on the counter and headed out the door thinking “how can this be?”
After that, time and details are kind of muddled in my mind. However, I woke this morning knowing that the grandmother of my boys, Tom’s mom…….Grandma Jane…….is gone.
Sure, she had been ill. Yes, she struggled physically. But, she just baked Drew his favorite pumpkin pie for his birthday. She was going to the Yuletide show this weekend. She was headed to Chicago. How can she be gone?
Today, this reality is coming over me in waves. SIGH. I guess I just needed to type it and see the words come across the screen in front of me today. So, forgive me for being a touch inarticulate and not terribly inspiring. This entry? Well it feels cathartic, so I’m sorry for your luck if you were in the moody for sunshine.
The funeral was Saturday. Our parish wrapped us in love and helped us say goodbye. They anticipated our needs, they fed our family, and our two priests were present to walk alongside on a truly difficult day. I am grateful for my church. Catholics know how to say goodbye in the most meaningful and lovely way.
This is going to be hard. How can my father in law be okay when half his heart is gone? I’m not sure. God’s grace is sufficient says St. Teresa of Avila. Gosh I hope she’s right.
THE EULOGY
Below is a copy of the eulogy. As my brother in law Jerome aptly put it, I was “voluntold” by the family to write and deliver it at her funeral mass. I share it here at the request of several. If there’s anything here of meaning or comfort to anyone, all glory goes to God.
Good morning. On behalf of my father-in-law, Tom, as well as Jennie, Mary, my husband Tom and the rest of the family, I want to open by saying thank you. The sense somebody cares always helps, because that sense is Gods powerful love…and your presence here today is a very great gift you have given us for which we are truly grateful. Your time, prayers and attendance at this special mass for Jane are the tangible presence of Christ holding our hands as we give her back to Him.
Since there is absolutely no adequate way to try and do justice to Jane’s big personality in the 3 or 4 minutes I have this morning, I am just going to remember some of her greatest gifts and how they blessed all our lives. I’ll start with her insatiable need to seek out the newcomer. Jane loved to welcome new faces, and did it in her own fantastic way. We kind of joked when anyone new showed up at a family dinner or event….”here comes her fresh meat!”
The very first time I visited her home I was 15 years old. She took one look at me and said, “Well Shelly, that skirt is darling…but you need to come back here to my room so we can look through the jewelry box for a better pair of earrings. Those silly things you’re wearing are waaay too small.” In a way that only Jane could pull off, she immediately killed the awkwardness of my greeting the boyfriend’s mom with her own version of “what not to wear.”
I have heard so many stories the last few days about her sunny hospitality and unique brand of warmth towards co-workers, cousins, friends, neighbors, old boyfriends….it seems everyone has a “Jane story”, and all of them make people smile.
Jane’s heart was soft for anyone down on their luck. In fact, right this very minute our South Haven cottage handyman is sleeping in her Michigan cottage bedroom because he didn’t have another place to go. So, over Thanksgiving, she offered him her pillow and a warm place to sleep in exchange for some painting and repairs.
This was not new behavior. On the morning of December 25th many years ago, I was told she noticed a young high school kid milling around outdoors. His home situation was difficult and he had moved in for a time with the neighbor down the street. He was locked out I think, and without a Christmas plan…until he ended up at Jane and Tom Thieme’s Christmas morning breakfast on Saw Mill Road. . I have no doubt the tree was perfectly trimmed that morning, and I am sure the homemade centerpiece on the table would put Martha Stewart to shame. I can’t remember his name, but I do recall it gave her great joy to see him on the field playing football for Purdue a couple years after their chance encounter, knowing he was in college and doing well. Jane had a gift for hospitality.
Did I mention she was an extrovert? She charged her batteries by being with other people. Her favorite person was, without question, her partner of 49 years, Tom. She once said to me, and I will never forget it, that if she had been on a quest to marry the most thoughtful and hardworking man in the world, she couldn’t have done any better. With Jane at his side in all her vivaciousness, I feel safe saying he met and interacted with thousands of people he might never have otherwise encountered. They always seem to be so comfortable with each other, balancing each other, that their example of a holy marriage will always be to us a beautiful influence in our own lives.
What else?
When I listened to Mary Jo, Jennie, and Tom talk the last couple days, I heard about all the summer fun in South Haven when they were kids because to her, things like an extra day of vacation and great games of charades were priorities. That led to a chat or two about the more recent fun in Michigan had by Thomas, Katie, Nick, Drew and Zach along with us, their parents, and Jane and Tom, orchestrated utterly by her grand plan of cottage ownership about a decade ago. She handled the bills, she scheduled the repairs, she managed the details none of us wanted to take on…………so that the family could be together, smiling, eating Sherman’s and watching the sunset.
If Jane could speak to us today, I think the first thing she would say is, “Oh, I don’t want all this fuss over me.” Oh, but she really would. She would adore the fuss as much as she loved each of you who touched her life in ways big and small.
One last thing. Jane did some suffering too. Her cross seemed especially heavy during many moments the last couple of years. We weren’t prepared to lose her. Our hearts weren’t ready. So, for those of us who have ever thought about saying to God, why this? Why now? I have this thought.
An interviewer asked a young man who had been through extreme suffering and was facing death if he had ever questioned God about why He allowed this to happen. The young man answered, “Yeah, I ask God why all the time. Why out of all the people in the world did you choose me? Because now I am going to spend eternity with you!”
What an amazing perspective.
I leave you with a prayer inspired from psalm 39, which will maybe help us remember how important it is to live simply, not taking ourselves too seriously……….but by loving each other and our God in the light of eternity.
Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.
Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting life is.
You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.
My entire lifetime is just a moment to you, each of us is but a breath.
With you, my God I long to live forever.
May Jane’s soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace.
In her book “Come Be My Light”, Mother Teresa shocked the world with the revelation of her deep interior darkness. During this time, God used her radiant smile to shine one of the brightest lights of modern times on countless people all over the world. This is what came into my mind today when a positive and faith filled friend sent out a message this morning which gave me pause. I want to share part of it with you.
Everyone will go through some hard times at some point. Life isn’t easy. Just something to think about…Did you know the people that are the strongest are usually the most sensitive? Did you know the people who exhibit the most kindness are the first to get mistreated? Did you know the ones who take care of others all the time are usually the ones who need it the most? Sometimes just because a person looks happy, you have to look past their smile and see how much pain they may be in. To all my friends who are going through some issues right now–Let’s start an intention avalanche.
The sentiment expressed here is a bit sad but truly lovely at the same time. I read it as a call to pray for all of those around us, especially those who smile at us radiantly. Every person—family member, neighbor, colleague– in our path was put there by our all-knowing and loving God. We have to care enough to pray for them, love them, even though they may not ask.
The note above was sent by a sparkly and positive person– a mom– that I regularly encounter. I am ashamed to say that I cannot recall having before offered a single prayer for her. You see, she seems to be doing just great, and she never asked. That’s not okay. A friend shouldn’t have to look miserable or advertise their illness or struggle in order to be “prayer worthy”.
“Love one another deeply, from the heart.” –1 Peter 1:22
Admittedly, I get a fair number of prayer requests. I consider this a great honor and privilege, and I also think it’s just the influence of my big personality. I make “friends” with bank tellers and bag boys and small talk with coaches and kindergarteners. Just yesterday, for example, I found myself searching for prune juice at O’Malias with a cute old guy who was a bit turned around and couldn’t find the juice aisle. I thought I knew where everything was at that store, in fact, until tested on the prune juice. But, my new bff, Stanley, and I did find it! The “never met a stranger” gene is a gift inherited from my Dad. Is this a blessing, or a curse? Ha?!
This kind of giftedness, however, should not be mistaken with the kind of faithful friendship that is possible when we open our lives and hearts up to others. We have to be willing to take the risk of vulnerability when we lay out the welcome mat to our hearts. This is why I work hard to honor all the prayer requests, even if it means that I offer a single “Glory Be” on my busiest days for a particular intention. Someone has usually risked revealing fear or genuine interior desire when they ask for prayer, after all.
However, today’s message made me realize, that’s not going to cut it.
“Blessed are they who have the gift of making friends, for it is one of God’s best gifts. It involves many things, but above all, the power of getting out of one’s self and appreciating whatever is noble and loving in another.” — Thomas Hughes
When we look up from our own lives to notice those around us, we have the opportunity to multiply joy or divide grief. We have to understand silence sometimes speaks loudly too.
It used to be when I heard about this idea of “prayer without ceasing” that I pictured pious little nuns with bloody knees. It didn’t make the idea of being near God all day long sound like anything but a crummy idea.
Here’s what I think about prayer now. Prayer is speaking to God in the quiet of our hearts, but it is also sneaking in the back door to do the dishes of the neighbor who hasn’t asked but needs the help. It’s keeping your girlfriend’s kiddo, it’s sending a birthday card, a sunny text message to a teenager, making a breakfast date, or popping in to grab a hug. These things take time, it’s true. That too is a prayer though, and it honors God in a way that is possible for minivan moms like me.
“Whoever refreshes others will himself be refreshed.” –-Prov 11:25
Today, to thank God for the special people in my life, I am going to pray by action. I choose my sparkly friend who today selected a unique way to say “help me.” I am honoring her by letting her know how I see Jesus through her, that I am thinking about her, and that I am thankful for the friendship. I hope she will feel Jesus hugging her with my hands.
“There are so many hurts that circumstances and the world inflict upon us, we need the constant reinforcement of encouragement.” –Billy Graham
To all reading this today: Know that you are loved. Don’t ever forget that Love came all the way down here to earth to help us in our helplessness.
I believe I have shared before that the “house” part of “housewife” gives me a fair amount of trouble. So, when a child fails to meet my remarkably low standards for cleanliness, it suffices to say things have gone far past messy and landed squarely in the middle of just plain “ick”.
This is the predicament my oldest son landed in over the weekend. He had already had a rough week having injured his back at practice, he was hobbling, a bit broken and I just didn’t have the heart to get grumpy. When his father used the word “disgusting”, I figured it was time for an intervention.
“How did you do this to yourself?” I asked my 15 year-old.
“Well, I wish I had some exciting story to tell you, Mom, but my room just got away from me. I’m kind of a disaster. ”
Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they’re yours. –Richard Bach.
As we ate breakfast, I began noodling about how to handle this one. Then, I told my sons that they needed to gather all their dirty laundry. While I did the dishes and danced around the kitchen to my favorite Pandora channel, I heard the scurrying overhead. A few moments later my incredibly bright middle kiddo, Drew, expressed fairly articulately the serious concern he had about the amount of laundry in his brother’s room.
That’s when it hit me.
“Boys, listen up! I want you to put all your laundry into large trash bags and bring it downstairs. “
“Ok, Mom.”
As the trash bags filled my kitchen, I was warned that their numbers were going to be disturbing, and I admit, I didn’t realize Nick had that many clothes. In all, more than 6 large trash bags were assembled. Wondering if the Irish in my heritage might show itself, the boys searched my face looking for signs of an imminent temper tantrum. They needn’t have worried this time. I had devised a plan. My spirit was calm.
Here’s what I know from plenty of first-hand experience. We all have well-worn patterns of defeat in our lives. It was time for a little lesson on how the past doesn’t have to dictate the future and that we must take responsibility for making good choices. Language can be powerful and words have the power to transform us. We needed to invoke the power of “UP UNTIL NOW.”
I instructed the boys to put the back row of seats down in the van and told the uninjured teenager who had warned me earlier about the volume of dirty clothes to load up the heavy laundry bags. An act of Christian charity was about to be performed by all of us for the benefit primarily of my oldest son, but hopefully the lesson would resonate.
“Guys, I need you to bring me every quarter you can find. And, Zach—grab a deck of cards.“
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“Boys, we are going to the laundromat.”
The Kwik Kleen Laundromat in Carmel, Indiana is what I would deem typical as these places go. It was adequate. However, the rows of washers and dryers were an unexpected delight to my three laundry novices. They seemed a bit giddy in amazement of the place, which I estimate was last renovated perhaps in 1982. Who knew it could be so much fun to load clothes and coins into washers—13 washers!!?
Zach and I played ourselves into a 5-6 euchre deficit against his older brothers while the washers did their job, and then the completely “awesome” complimentary wheeled baskets whizzed about the place at the hands of the Thieme boys as we dropped quarter after quarter into dryers all over the building. We were operating so many of them at the same time that my 8 year old worked off his breakfast checking the timers on them all and providing play-by-play.
There are no mistakes. All events like this are blessings from which we can learn. God clearly tells us that our challenges and problems are not unique. No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to us all. (1 Cor 10:13).
When we had finished washing, drying, and folding all these loads of clothes, I looked around and realized that my guys were all smiling from the experience. We had giggled our way through the laundromat afternoon, mercilessly teasing Nick for the hole he had dug for himself, but with our good temperaments undamaged. We had freed him to begin again.
Smiling and loading up the van was the perfect time, I thought, to underline today’s lesson. Surrendering negative thoughts and changing poor patterns means looking to God for a new way. It’s news I wish I had assimilated years ago, and so, as I learn it myself I want very much to share the lesson with my sons right away. Waiting until age 42 is a touch pathetic, so I am trying to save my boys a long ride on the “struggle bus.” How do I explain what we’ve just done? I have about 2 sentences to impart some hard learned wisdom, since that’s the attention span of 8-15 year old boys. Hmm. Choose your words carefully, Shelly.
Come, Holy Spirit. That was my silent prayer.
Then, I said, “Nick. Do you remember telling me this morning you’re a disaster?”
“Yeah.”
“Up until now.”
“Huh?”
“UP UNTIL NOW, you have been a laundry disaster.”
“And now, I have a fresh start and I will do a better job. “
“That’s exactly right. You can do this better. I know you will.”
This is what God tells us. You must replace negative thoughts with positive ones. We can screw up in ways small and large, but His advice is filled with common sense.
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you. (Phil 4:8-9)
In other words, think positive and positive change is possible. When tempted to fall back into old patterns of unhealthy thinking or behavior, add the words “up until now” to your sentence. I’ve been trying this of late and I think it’s brilliant.
“Up until now, I have been a laundry disaster.”
“Up until now, I have failed in exercise.”
What about you? Up until now, what have you done??
Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies. – Mother Teresa
What’s wrong with you people? Why can’t you understand how special I am?
I mean sure, I have a little bit of a patience issue this week, but the sun hasn’t been out in months here and I am a tax season widow–so there are special circumstances. Plus, I’ll grant you that I’m well past the pleasantly plump label at this point, but you have to keep in mind the medical challenges and my personal history. It’s been too cold to exercise EVERYDAY. I mean, the time hasn’t been right. It’s a special case. The laundry might be a smidge backed up, and I forgot to take the trash cans in AGAIN. The “house” part of “housewife” is constantly giving me fits. But you see, I have 3 boys playing on five teams right now who need to be carpooled to 2 different schools everyday…. and I hosted Easter last week and this weekend was my youngest son’s first communion. We were celebrating. We’re really busy. It’s spring break. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s different. It’s a special situation. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.
ENOUGH. My “special” attitude isn’t working.
It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels.— St. Augustine
Ever feel like you’re overdue for an attitude change, a behavior shift? If failure drives change, then I guess I am in the middle of a new experience with freedom here. There is a certain freedom, after all, in knowing I don’t have to worry about screwing up anymore. It’s happened. I’ve already done it. BUT, I hear without failure, there is no growth.
Growth in my case seems to mean I need to come to grips with being a little smaller. Pun intended. I mean it literally and in a figurative way. Now might be time to put down the goldfish crackers and come to grips with my nothingness.
A friend of mine who has survived a long ugly battle with leukemia told me once that she wakes up every day and no matter how crappy she feels, she wants to do something positive for someone else.
Karen is clearly on to something. It’s time to start waking with a new attitude. So, I decided a change is in order–less me, more God. If God is love, then I am going to thank God for the day He has given me by doing something that makes someone smile. Inspire someone. Be someone’s light. Love more.
I prayed about it and I thought about it and I committed to a turnaround. Let’s go!
Cue reality. The day before yesterday, my internet went out. This isn’t a new problem. We live in a not so bright house, if you catch my drift. I unplugged it then turned the modem back on. Nada. Then, I waited for a miracle. If a particular service has been dead more than 24 hours, I let my fingers do the walking. The nice gal tried at the cable company to work her long distance techno magic, but the pinging was to no avail. She decided I needed a new modem and scheduled a service call for today.
A few hours later, I noticed that my land line was dead. Since we have the same provider for the phone, internet and cable, I decided I would dial them again from my cell phone and add this issue. The words of Mother Teresa rolled around in my mind. Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies. Okay real life, here we go.
That’s when I noticed that the dead modem was looking more alive and my email was operational. So, I hooked up via cell phone with my good friends at Brighthouse and a customer service gal who identified herself as Vicki answered. Here’s how our conversation progressed.
“M’am, I see we already have a service call scheduled for tomorrow. Do you need to reschedule?”
“Vicki, no I don’t. I just need to chat with you for a second. You see, when I called earlier for service and talked to the other gal, it was my internet that was out. Now it’s my phone. But the internet is working again. The modem has come out of its coma for now.”
“Oh, okay. So you want to cancel the internet technician but have a phone tech visit instead?”
“Well, Vicki, not really.”
“Mrs. Thieme, I am so sorry you’re having trouble but you don’t need to get upset, I will do what I can to help.”
“Listen, Vicki. You can relax and call me Shelly. No one has cancer over here. I’m not worked up at all and there won’t be any phone rage. This isn’t an emergency of any kind. It’s just that I am bummed I am paying for phone, internet and cable and I don’t think all three have ever been working at the same time for a solid week since we moved here. I already know all your technicians. Can we talk?”
“Thank you for being nice M’am. What can I do?”
“Well, Vicki, I know you have thousands of customers. There’s nothing special about me or my house. I am just thinking maybe we can talk about what other options you have there. Do you guys have a team of super smart geeks you send out to call on the houses of people who are yelling and talking about unfair treatment? I kinda want a shot at those guys. Only I am going to be nice and try to make them eat super yummy cinnamon bread that I am now not allowed to eat myself so they will stay long enough to untangle the technology cluster going on over here.”
Audible giggles. “M’am. Shelly, I mean. Can you hold for a minute while I do something I say I am going to do but rarely actual do?”
“You’re going to talk to a supervisor, aren’t you?”
“Yes M’am, please hold”.
“Thank you for holding for so long and being so nice. I’ve checked your account. I think we can do a better job for you. I’ve asked permission to give you a promotional discount we give to new customers. Your bill will be $61 less per month from now on. Oh, and this month you have been given a $50 credit.”
“Vicki. That’s so kind. Thank you for doing that! I’m not sure what possessed you but gosh I am grateful.”
“M’am. I’ll tell you. It’s three things. You didn’t complain about being on hold for 42 minutes. You are so funny, and best of all, you haven’t tried telling me how important or special your problems are one time.”
Hmm. I think she just said she was extra nice to me because I know I’m NOT SPECIAL. Haha!! Okay, God. I hear you commenting on my change. Shelly 2.0 it is.
“Our technicians will be at your house tomorrow between 8am and 10am. Is that okay?”
“Vicki. I feel like you used a plural word. Did you say technicianzzzz?”
“Yes, M’am. I did my best. Thank you so much for being really nice. Good luck.”
Pope Francis said, “The sin that repulses me most is pride and thinking oneself as a big shot” in an interview for a book written about him by Sergio Rubin in 2010. He said when it happened to him, “I have felt great embarrassment and I ask God for forgiveness because nobody has the right to behave like this.”
Seems like our new pope might be working with more updated software than yours truly.
Version 2.0: Less me, more others, more love, more God.
Yesterday, I was chatting it up with the CVS store clerk as I waited for the pharmacist. I remarked about her truly cute haircut and bemoaned my own overly gray “situation”. The sweet young gal said “Nobody will even notice your bad hair day because we are all thinking about your dirty forehead.”
I began to giggle at her honesty and I said, “Ashes?” She truly looked at me like I needed to put down the crack pipe. It was then I explained, “It’s Ash Wednesday. Today’s the start of Lent. It’s a Catholic thing.”
“Oh!”
It wasn’t the most impressive evangelization effort, that’s for sure.
We find ourselves in the midst of those 40 days which began with us each being literally marked as sinners. To dust we shall return. If that seems a wee bit morbid, well, I think that’s the point.
Shouldn’t we be interiorly restless as it relates to the fundamental question of sin—especially as it speaks to eternity? How likely are we to use our freedom to choose God if our minds are focused on the question of our own salvation?
“Enter by the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.” (Mt. 7:13)
Yikes.
Lent is an excellent time to reflect on the reality of our own mortality and ask to be filled plentifully with grace, loving Him enough to repent for sins large and small.
Bishop Fulton Sheen said “Conscience tells us when we do wrong so we feel on the inside as if we have broken a bone. The bone hurts because it is not where it ought to be.”
In this increasingly secular world, it’s easy to forget about salvation and focus on what is of this earth, what is finite. During Lent, the Church wisely suggests we take a pause from those things which cause us to drown out that voice of God within.
I know what some of them are for me and what I am going to work on. What about you?
“Seek eagerly after love. Set your hearts on spiritual gifts.” (1 Cor 14:1)
I move that we all embrace the austerities of Lent, find our way to a confessional, and pray for properly formed consciences, through which (with our cooperation) the Holy Spirit will encourage us after each mistake to turn towards our God and walk in His light once more.
P.S.
Oh, and don’t forget to use some of that prayer time to ask the Holy Spirit to be powerfully present for our Cardinals too as they choose our new Pope!
He Never Misses 