This is a sketchy photo of my mom. She’s spending Mother’s Day in France this year and I could not be happier for her. My adventurous, amazing Mom deserves this fun trip with her girlfriends and I know she is soaking it all in. But, it’s Mother’s Day weekend, and since she’s far away, I knew the best way to reach her would be Facebook this year. This letter is a Mother’s Day gift from me to you, Mom. I love you.
Dear Mom,
The other “kids” are still jealous I have the youngest, coolest mom. It’s true. You always were. I mean, aside from that time you FORGOT you were the mom and you screamed wanting ME to kill the mouse in our kitchen (“YOU DO IT! YOU’RE THE MOM! I’M ONLY 12!”), it always worked out pretty well for me. I could use all kinds of adjectives like “hilarious”, “kind”, “creative”, “selfless”….and those are all accurate and true but they just don’t do you justice. The thing about you that is truly mind-blowing to me as I gaze back over the decades is this one simple thing. You ALWAYS show up. ALWAYS. You might be exhausted, your schedule might be frenetic….it has never mattered. There you were and are. Birthdays. Softball games. Tennis matches. Choir performances. You were at every May Crowning—you weren’t even Catholic then and didn’t understand—but we were there so there you were. This selflessness only increased once Robin and I headed off to college and then down the aisle. You organized my closet when I was too pregnant to breathe and stayed overnight in the hospital with my 4 year old when I had food poisoning and couldn’t bear to have him alone for a moment. You’ve watched my kids for days on end so I could try and remember what it was I liked about that guy I married after 4 months of tax season…………..too many times to count. The thing is, I don’t believe they miss me at all because the entire time you just spoil my goofballs until they’re sufficiently ruined. I have three boys and you’ve never missed a single birthday. How’s that even possible?
I’m gonna make a confession, Mom. There have been moments in my life where I have thought to myself, “God doesn’t love me. Why would He?” We all get blue and feel crummy about ourselves. I have special gifts in this area. Here’s the thing. I have never doubted for a moment in my life that I am loved by my mom. Even when I was acting like a moody, pain in the ass, immature teenager (sorry about that)…I knew you loved me anyway. ALWAYS. So, follow this logic if you would. When I was struggling and truly blue some thoughts rumbled. If I know for SURE that my mom loves me even when I am being an idiot, then one starts to suspect that perhaps the God of the universe is maybe even a touch more adept at loving.
Years pass, and this magnificent example of love in my life? I am given the chance to share it with my own three smelly, sarcastic, terrific ying-yangs. Motherhood has a funny way of helping even total knuckleheads like yours truly to understand a bit more about love. Then, circumstances of life rattle me, and that same nagging, negative, interior voice crops up. The thing is, now I can slay that dragon from the south in short order.
Why? First, I know that I have parents who love me NO MATTER WHAT. Plus, I am certain that there is NOTHING my sons could do that could cause me to quit loving them. Yes, they might disappoint me. They could break my heart. Even if one of my sons did something unthinkable, though, I know that I would still love them like you love me.
So there’s this. On my bad days, those days when I feel God must not love me because of whatever stupid reason I concoct interiorly with my (high quality) creative gifts….I stop myself. My math won’t add. God doesn’t love me. BUT, I love my boys forever and always? And I am SURE my mom loves her girls to the moon and back? So. You and I love better than God? Hmmm. I mean we’re good. B-U-T….
You didn’t know you taught me that I am a cherished daughter of God, did you? Well, you did. That’s pretty much the best gift ever.
Even I am not so lacking in humility that I believe you and I love our children better than God loves His.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I miss you… and I love you more than you will ever know.
…and the disciples were continually filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit. (ACTS 13:52)
“Joy is the unmistakable work of the Holy Spirit.” That’s the quote I heard this morning at church spoken by a perky, bright gal named Denise. It really struck me as profound. It’s the soul of happiness. Joyful people are the ones God uses so often to bring others to Himself. How am I doing? Do I have this gift? Am I sharing it as I should? These were my questions and they were a big part of my Lenten prayers this morning. So, I have been contemplating about the most joyful folks I have met in this life, and I am comparing them to the stories of some of my favorite joy-filled saints. Here is my unscientifically created list of Top 10 Qualities of Joyful People! Do you consider yourself a JOYFUL PERSON? How many of these qualities do you have? What have I left out?
1. They don’t take it personally. Joyful people are other focused. They consider circumstances and consider that they may not have all the information. They do not look within themselves insecurely. When things don’t go their way, joyful people do NOT dabble in the form of self-centeredness which takes it personal.
2. They see the bright side. Joyful people tend to do the following when things go wrong, “Well, in good news…” They reflect on lessons learned, solutions which might be employed next time, and they find a way to be content—even in a storm.
3. They don’t judge. They know the only perfect person was Jesus and know “I’m not Him!” They are able to find something positive to say about even the most challenging folks around them. They’ve made their own mistakes, picked themselves up, and are working on their own holiness by shining their light, not wagging their finger.
4. They know there is a time for everything. We can’t always work, nor can we always “have fun”. Joyful people scoop up opportunities to show up for others, they don’t dwell on past mistakes, and take time to enjoy the little things. Sometimes, that means belting out a favorite song or showing up for the little league game. Other times, it means taking time for sacred silence.
5. They are self-aware. Joyful people know what their gifts are, as well as their quirks and shortcomings. They know who they are and what they are capable of. They have the kind of positivity (despite their own flaws and misgivings) that cannot be taken away– because it wasn’t gifted to them by men.
6. They are creative. For many, when joy exists before the “I”, and they are able to live a life standing outside their own egos, a greater sense of creativity is present in them. Joy thinks outside the box. Many joyful people are just plain silly at times! They aren’t afraid to look like a fool. Many times, this will mean they are curious types who ask questions and are truly interested in knowing more about you!
7. They are consistent. Joyful people are not typically regarded as “sometimes joyful”. Others see them that way. Period. It’s sometimes quiet, but ever present. Even in sadness, joyful people still exude flickers of light. It may manifest itself very differently, but it’s always there. It’s a divinely given gift, after all, and is rarely a gift for just a season. Therefore, authentic joy doesn’t need a reason or a season. It’s simply unreasonable happiness which is rooted in deep gratefulness to God.
8. Joyful people are loving. When people describe others they know who are joyful, they always mention love. Don’t believe me? Ask around! The truly happy know joy isn’t a feeling. They are people who have turned themselves toward God. The only response to that is the living of the high adventure and love that is rooted in the divine.
9. They appreciate simple. Joyful people have learned to love the simple things. They find deep peace in knowing their blessedness. Things like campfires, sunny mornings, cool breezes, a long walk, a good giggle bring deep interior consolation. Sure, joyful people might enjoy “the good things in life” just as much as anyone, but they aren’t terribly attached to them.
10. Joyful people love themselves. They know deep within that they are beloved sons and daughters of God.
I am grateful to God especially for St. Teresa of Avila, St. John Vianney…and my sis Robin, Vivian, Lily S., Jake A., Janie M. and Renee (among many others) for their examples of joyfulness that inspire me!
“Do not be afraid, for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” (Luke 2:10)
I, Michelle Lynn Dykhuizen Thieme, have decided today to declare my candidacy for President of the United States of America.
You’re pumped, right?
I have a loud voice. Like, really loud. What’s even better is, I only know this fact because everyone around me keeps telling me. So, that means I also have poor self-awareness. I’m (waaaay) over 35 and I have paperwork to prove I was born in Lafayette, Indiana. I have zero political background. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did serve as president of my HS class. It seems to me right there is a great recipe for a presidential run. Who wants to be my campaign manager? Anyone?
To be completely upfront, my candidacy might prove to be a tad tricky.
First of all, I try to always apologize when I’m wrong, and even though I’m loud, which I know the media loves, I really prefer to get along with people and maintain harmony whenever possible. In fact, I like to write notes to people and remind them why they are awesome. That feels like something I will need to fix to be a viable candidate.
Plus, let’s look at the issues. Guns? Nope. Don’t like ’em. I didn’t even like it when my sons tried to make their legos into gun shapes and play cowboys and “native americans” in pre-school. I realize that might seem over the top. So much for the NRA support. Does this make me a democrat? There are family members and friends in my life who make their living farming and some of them like to hunt. They also really don’t like predators (you know, foxes, raccoons, opposums, coyotes) who come after their livestock. OK, I REALLY don’t like guns but you guys can keep your hunting rifles. Ditto for you and your FBI friends, Don, and you too, Gerry and all the other police officers out there who are trying hard to keep us safe. I get it. Some people rightly value their firearms. We’ll just have to respect each others differences on that one and wade through together.
“Respect each other’s differences?” What kind of poppycock is that? Man the media are going to have a field day with me. I’ll need a good PR staff. Who’s in?
What else? Well, I really feel in my heart that a big challenge in our country is a need to strengthen families. I suppose that’s a republican thing to say. The thing is, I respect and love people in my life who have families that look less traditional than mine. Now, I’m sounding lost in a political Bermuda triangle. I know. Clearly, my positions make me insane. Oh, and I think it’s utterly silly to bother those nuns on 86th St. who are super busy changing the sheets of Indy’s poorest seniors with some law about they need to provide contraceptives to the receptionist. Actually, it downright bugs me. I mean, she knew she was taking a job working for nuns, right? I’d bet she’s probably cool with giving Sister a pass on those drugs– if she wasn’t– she probably would have just applied for another gig. The nuns and I are on page and…so my hopes of democratic funding seem to be dwindling.
I love nuns, families, and I care about the poor. I really hate guns, but I get that some people need them. When a girl down the hall at Purdue called me a “fisheater”, I didn’t get bent out of shape. Last week, someone called me fat. Big damn deal. I loathe sexism and racism and most the other “isms” as much as the next guy, but mostly people who don’t like other people because of who they are or what they look like are just idiots to me. I wish I’d written “sad” and said I would pray for them. I’m working on it. Focusing on people who fail isn’t the centerpiece of my life. The pervasive over-sensitivity and uber concern about political correctness revolution just isn’t working for me. These moments always remind me how blessed I am to have a mom who constantly reminded me that I will never be sorry I was too kind. I should also mention my eloquent Dad who didn’t have a problem reminding me from time to time when I lost my way that “your shit, Shelly does in fact stink.” Thanks for keeping me straight, guys.
The scripture verse at the beginning of this declaration of candidacy came from the Christmas card I sent out this year. That’s a pattern of behavior for me. I’m kind of into Jesus. In fact, I believe the fact checkers will uncover that I am a mass attending, sacrament loving Catholic. If that’s not a candidacy killer, I don’t know what is.
So there you have it. I might be the most un-electable possible candidate in this year’s election. I’m a definitively pro-compromise, family (and nun) loving, anti-gun, police appreciating fish eater. I love our underpaid teachers and think high-stakes standardized testing is killing education, and I’m willing to listen to why you might feel differently. I believe in doing all we can to help the poor up. I don’t think it’s a close call when it comes to crazy things like the taking of lives or the selling of baby parts, but hating others despite our differences isn’t a thing I believe in either.
I’m never going to be President. Frankly, neither are any of you. And that, my friends, is what’s wrong with America. Let’s just set aside my obvious obstacles, such as I am not a millionaire and I have been a stay-at-home mom for 10 years. My bet is, even if you can actually fit neatly into one of the 2 political parties calling the shots, when you unravel your belief system you will find you are really going to have some issues which inhibit your electability. Mainly it’s about you just aren’t cranky enough.
In my opinion, what has made America great over the years is her capacity for compassion, for building one another up. We’ve lost our way. The venomous tone at present is surely NOT OF GOD.
Today, I felt called to speak up for the end to the rancor.
Do you want to know why I love the nuns? They keep me honest. The $40 they had to come to my parish begging to get from me seems like a lot as I toss it in the basketm but when I head out to shop, it seems like nothing. I am definitely part of the problem. However, I continue to pray and to try and do better. I hope the same for my nation.
God gave us free will, it’s true. When we are free to act without being under the influence of another, that is real freedom. Consider the words of a great saint in whom even the vast number of non-Christians in India saw great virtue. Reading her words always makes me feel as if I have inhaled a tiny breath of heaven. As I finish my silly little entry today, I invite you to join me in a prayer for our great country and I offer you this bit of fresh air. I hope you enjoy it. Know that above all you belong to God, He delights in you, and you are loved.
“Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.” –Mother Teresa
It was barely past 7am on a recent Tuesday morning when my phone began to blow up.
First came a photo of Cole and Clay from my dear friend, Ann. The caption read, “Grab the Kleenex…it’s going to be the year of Lasts! The last day our boys will go to school together! Send pics.”
Then, the adorable Chris sent her shot of Rhett and Rhye. Her senior looked half asleep, but still handsome. Her caption read, “Uuuugh.”
Shortly thereafter, more buzzing commenced from Lisa.
“First day of 1st grade, and first day of senior year.”
That was followed up by an adorable side by side of her son, Christian, that would just melt your heart.
A few moments later, “Kleenex needed all day” arrived with a smiling photo of Dominic with his big brother Vinny, from my friend Julie.
I quickly gave into peer pressure and then the morning’s “Last first day” shot of my two oldest. I wrote, “Let’s just enjoy them all year.”
Drew and Nick on the “Last first day”
Look at me trying to be sunny! It didn’t last. Within two hours I had texted my mom, “Can you just sprinkle a little Prozac in my all my beverages this year?”
I felt a bit like a mom cliche. I know, it’s silly, and I realize how much God has blessed our family. Still, there was this wave of sadness, of thinking so wistfully about the last year with Nick under our roof. God’s grace is sufficient, I thought. I followed it with, “whatever.” Then, I found this golden nugget.
Those to whom God gives riches and property, and grants powers to partake of them, so that they receive their lot and find joy in the fruits of their toil: This is a gift from God. For they will hardly dwell on the shortness of life, because God lets them busy themselves with the joy of their heart. Ecc. 5:18-20.
A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine lost his dad in a tragic accidental drowning. It appears to all that Mr. Doerr was cleaning the pool when he apparently got tangled in the vacuum hose, hit his head and fell into the pool. I lost my breath a bit when I read the note I received which laid bare the details, and I imagined the deep grief of the family.
What Fr. Richard reported the day of his father’s funeral was this, which I read on my phone in a bit of disbelief. He wrote, “It was an absolutely beautiful thing.” There was no “but”.
His simple words spoke powerfully about his strong faith and grateful heart. It convicted me instantly, but I didn’t quite understand why just yet.
There’s more.
A year ago, I lost my friend, Shannon, in horrific fashion. In the midst of their terrible grief, her sister, Colleen, and husband, Doug Stine, adopted the two sons she left behind. They are being raised alongside the little Stines, Ryan and Maddie…and a brand new baby girl born just days ago. They named her Shannon Lynn.
I sent my grieving friend, Fr. Richard, this photograph. It was the moment when Colleen introduced her parents and her older sister, Janet LYNN, to their newest family member. When I saw it for the first time, I sobbed.
I explained to him that it was one of the most poignant photos I have ever seen and that it was of the O’Malias. Mom, Dad, and their two daughters– in the delivery room– meeting Shannon Lynn, who is named after BOTH of her aunts. I told him it was so stunningly beautiful that I can’t stand it, and that it was, to me, a powerful example of God’s grace just reigning down on them.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. So I won’t write about it anymore. Here it is.
Welcome to the world, Shannon Lynn Stine
To that, the reply I received from the good padre was a link to the homily given by Fr. Rasner at his dad’s funeral. I thought that was a bit of an odd thing to send but given that I was out of town on vacation during the funeral and regretted missing the event, I was glad to get the chance to hear it.
To say that it was powerful and comforting would do it a massive disservice. It was perhaps the most beautiful and inspired funeral homily I have ever heard. The Doerr family is a large and faith filled group which has produced two priests. The younger Fr. Doerr shared this with me because he recognized in that homily what I felt when I saw that photo.
God’s grace reigns down on us. It happens all the time in small and powerful ways. It’s our choice to see it. We have to cooperate with grace, you see. When we do, the only appropriate response is gratefulness. The Doerrs and the O’Malias have provided me (and many, others) inspiring witnesses of faith and gratefulness amid terrific difficulties. They have given me pause.
Why, oh, why is gratefulness NOT my default position at this point? I really MUST be the most stubborn, slow learner of all times.
Let’s circle back to my pitiful morning of angst at the realization that this is Nick’s SENIOR year. It’s the year of lasts. Sniff, sniff. Perhaps the storm clouds and film noire attitude is not the way to go? A little melodramatic– you think??
This is just one small example and one tiny situation. However, it’s definitely emblematic of an overall spiritual shortcoming. It was the O’Malias and the Doerrs that inspired me to visit Jesus. I prayed, “I don’t know what I need, Jesus, but You do. Please help me.”
As I prayed, I got thinking about the proper way to handle this year (and my life, and my failings), and then I kept thinking of this crazy, over the top guy we met this year on the baseball field. “Why am I in the chapel thinking about Skiles Test baseball,” I thought. “Girl, focus on what you’re doing,” I scolded myself interiorly.
I couldn’t. That’s when I realized God was talking. Duh. When people get “stuck” in my brain, I tend to spiritualize the experience. In other words, I believe the Holy Spirit is behind it and has placed them there for a reason.
What can I say? Some holier people probably hear angelic choirs when they pray, or at least think of cool biblical guys. I tend to go another way.
Stick with me, and allow me to digress….
“They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel” — Carl Buehner
Coach Bazan is a lunatic. No, really, he is. So is his wife, Coach “Ball.” Her name is actually Crystal, but everyone calls her Ball. Really. She brings bags full of gum and miscellaneous candy to every practice and baseball game. Sure, it’s just little league baseball, but still…and she video tapes every game. Why? So she can send video clips to parents of their kid’s great hit, or awesome catch and enjoy it or send it to a grandparent who lives afar. Coach Ball only sends highlights.
“We gotta call him ‘All American Thieme’ momma, because that is what he’s gonna be someday! I was so excited when we got him on OUR team this year because I am sick of playing against him! He hit 7 for 7 against us last year!”
Those were the first words spoken to me this spring by Coach Bazan about my 10 year old son, Zach. All I could think was, “Good God!” Who knows the stats of players from the opposing teams? From last year? I don’t think I am ready for this guy. And do you know what? I WASN’T!
Before we knew it they all had nicknames. There was “Lights Out Ferrucci” and “Hitman Haas.” He named “Gotcha Goff”, “Max the Rock Johnson”, “Mr. Excitement”, “Tough as Nails Bartlett” and “Lightning Baltz”. We will never forget “Irish Padgett” or “Hammer Hardister.” It was kind of hilarious how the boys beamed when he called them by their awesome nicknames……….which was constantly!
I have to be honest. I don’t know much else about this family but for sure I know one thing. They taught me a very important lesson. That lesson?
SOAK IT UP.
Life is an amazing gift. Live it—in positivity, with gratitude! My heart is so often overflowing from amazing blessings. When God reigns down on us, He intends for us to SOAK IT UP, and then… drip sparkly little bits of joy all around us. I do feel a tremendous amount of joyfulness. It’s time for me to take a cue from the terrific Bazan family and shake that sponge a little harder.
There is a time for nostalgia, for pining over how fast the time has gone, and if all goes as it should, there will be an entire box of Kleenex utilized when I drop my oldest son off at college next fall. But, I don’t need to make it the longest, most painful separation song in history. Brooding is a colossal waste of time—whatever the crisis of the moment.
Now is the time for gratefulness and generosity of spirit. Now is the time to honor God and the amazing family, friend and community He has given me with my joyfulness!
Those to whom God gives riches and property, and grants powers to partake of them, so that they receive their lot and find joy in the fruits of their toil: This is a gift from God. For they will hardly dwell on the shortness of life, because God lets them busy themselves with the joy of their heart. Ecc. 5:18-20.
God deals out joy in the present, the now. He also reigns down His love on us through others.
For me, He has most recently spoken through the beautful witnesses of the O’Malias, the Doerrs and the Bazans, To them, and to God, I am grateful. Candles have been lit and prayers said for these families with a full and thankful heart.
Has anyone loved you up in a meaningful way lately by their example of faith or their kindness?
Dishearten. –verb. To depress the hope, courage or spirits of; discourage
That doesn’t seem like a spectacularly positive choice of words with which to begin, does it? It’s the sunniest selection appropriate to describe how I felt recently upon hearing about the behavior of a large group of teenagers recently engaged in a “brawl” at a shopping mall I used to frequent. Yes, I said “used to”.
As a mother of three sons, ages 10-17, I suppose I feel uniquely qualified to outright reject both the “solutions” and hopelessness offered by local parents and pastors which were shared by Indianapolis area media regarding the handling of teenagers.
To punctuate the sentiment of surrender and discouragement felt by all, one mother was quoted saying to her child, “Y’alls generation is terrible”.
Another group, comprised of pastors from local churches, suggested that the solution lies in helping the young people find something to do—because there just aren’t good choices readily available.
These were themes I continued to hear over the course of days. Well meaning as those people might be, I listened and thought, “What planet are these people living on? We all need to look in the mirror, folks!”
Do you want to know what my teenage sons do on weeknights? They do their homework. If there’s time left over before bedtime, they might catch a game on ESPN, or watch an episode of “The Voice” with their mama, or they might play basketball on the tiny plastic hoop in my 10 year old’s room. He usually has a full NCAA tourney scribbled on a piece of paper. Last night Zach was Michigan and his brother was Butler. I have no idea who made it into the round of 32, I just know that the older boys are forced to play on their knees to make it “fair” and that it sounds like the house is coming down when they play.
On the weekends, when they don’t have practices or games themselves, they go support the high school team. Like many schools, at our place, admission is free to students. Away games, the kids have to come up with $5 or so and they can usually be entertained by two games for that price during hoops season………..hollering for their Golden Eagles for about 3 hours or so. After the games, sometimes they come here and I throw in frozen pizzas for them and a few buddies. Occasionally, they hit BW3 for wings. I know who they are with, and if they have post-game plans at a friend’s house, I check in with the parents to make sure they are home. Often, I get text messages from these parents letting me know that my son is now on his way home, or that he ate a whole bag of Oreos, or that he’s really horrible at Guitar Hero.
On Sunday, you’ll find them in the 3rd row on the left at mass.
Our faith community has expectations and kids rise to the occasion. It’s amazing when you set a bar for them, they often surprise and hurdle right over it. For instance, the kiddos are asked to do service work at their churches and in the community. There are specific requirements we give the kids, depending on their ages of course. Younger kids (like say 5th graders) might be asked to do 5 hours of service work. High schoolers need many more. They are amazing and creative and their work inevitably reveals to them something about themselves and about their Awesome Creator. The boys and their buddies have raked leaves for the elderly with their school friends, they’ve spread mulch at church, they’ve served meals to the homeless, they’ve stocked food at the food pantry, fit shoes on needy kids, written letters to soldiers, played bingo at nursing homes, worked in the concession stand for CYO games, instructed younger kids at sports camps, dusted and cleaned pews, and on and on over the years.
One particular day after playing bingo with some seniors at a nursing home filled with folks of very limited means, my youngest son (who was 8 at the time) said, “I think that one old lady really liked me mom. She said I made her day. Jesus is happy with me I think.”
My oldest son told the tale of raking leaves in Noblesville for a woman who then arrived home one fall day to find her work had been done for her. She was in tears explaining how her husband had been in the hospital after suffering a heart attack and how much the gesture meant to her. Clearly, the kiddos in his group felt they had been Christ to this woman…..and that felt pretty terrific.
Another day, one of the boys made a point to show me a photo of he and his buddies on twitter. The picture had been posted by his baseball coach while the team was cleaning the kitchen at a downtown food kitchen. He was proud of himself and wanted to show his mom about his morning!
THEY NEED SOMETHING TO DO? THEIR GENERATION IS TERRIBLE?
I profoundly reject those ideas.
Admittedly, when my middle son asked for a rosary for Christmas I did wonder to myself who he thought he was kidding. A priest friend agreed and jokingly suggested I check the police blotter. My point is, no child is perfect, and they are all going to make mistakes….including my own. I share about our life because in all humility I think something is going right, not because the boys I live with are without flaws and not because they have perfect parents. FAR from it.
BUT. Consider the following.
Professor Clay Christensen of Harvard Business School shared a story via social media that I intercepted a month or so ago. It was about a Marxist economist from China coming to the end of a Fulbright Fellowship in Boston. Christensen asked him if he learned anything surprising or unexpected and without hesitation he said, “I had no idea how critical religion is to the function of democracy.” The Fulbright Scholar went on to explain the reason democracy works isn’t because the government was designed to oversee what everybody does, but rather democracy works because most people, most of the time voluntarily choose to obey the law.
Christensen then goes on to share how this Chinese scholar noted that in America’s past, most people attended a church or synagogue every week and were taught there by people they respected. He went on to say Americans followed these rules because they had come to believe that they weren’t just accountable to society but they were accountable to God.
Professor Christensen then opines about wondering as religion loses its influence over the lives of Americans, what will happen to our democracy? If you take away religion, you can’t have enough police.
Here’s the link to a clip of Christensen’s short messgage: https://www.youtube.com/embed/YjntXYDPw44
That leads me right back to the brawl at Castleton Mall and the hundreds of young people who seemed to be lost that day, and the thousands more just like them who desperately need Christ.
All you who love Jesus or who want to love Him more, join me in prayer for our young people, our nation, ourselves. “O, Lord Jesus Christ, open the eyes of my hear that I may hear your word, and understand and do your will, for I am a sojourner upon the Earth. Hide not your commandments from me, but open my eyes, that I may perceive the wonders of your Law. Speak unto me the hidden and secret things of your wisdom. On you do I set my hope, O my God, that you shall enlighten my mind and understanding with the light or your knowledge; not only to cherish those things which are written but to do them; That in reading the lives and sayings of the saints I may not sin, but that such may serve for my restoration, enlightenment and sanctification, for the salvation of my soul, and the inheritance of life everlasting. For you are the enlightenment of those who lie in darkness, and from you comes every good deed and every gift. Amen.”
(Prayer by St. John Chrysendom)
We’ve got to do better. With Jesus, we can.
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.
We dug up St. Joe…thanks for helping us sell the place! NO SAINTS LEFT BEHIND!
“It’s been a good 12-year run” noted my succinct son Nick Fred.
Today, we begin the work of moving the boxes to a new address. I am sitting here in my stripped down house dripping wet and taking a break. There’s something cathartic and wonderful about a fresh start. Tons of sweaty work lies ahead, but I’m feeling enthusiasm.
My husband, however, seems to be struggling. Change stresses him out. Plus, he woke up this morning, the first day of our move, and he cannot feel his right hand. He injured his arm this week. Pain is never good– especially moving day! How are we going to do this when I can’t life anything? Is it the wrong lot? The wrong time? Did we make mistakes as we built? Is it too expensive? These are the questions I imagine in his mind.
He’s not alone, as I worry too. However, I just read a quote that sums up my feelings on the matter. “Don’t worry about being worried. You’re headed out on an adventure and you can always change your mind along the way and try something else.” –Tracy Kidder
Friends and family are priceless at these moments. Vivian is checking in and praying for us, and that’s excellent because I’m pretty sure she has Jesus ‘s cell number and everything. Ange and Katie brought dinner. Lisa, Dawn, Chris and Ann are loaning us their sons strong backs this afternoon. CAN I GET AN AMEN?! My youngest son has moved to Camp Schwegman for the week (thanks Renee and Jeff!!) and my dear friend Julie has been listening to my fretting for weeks on end.
Did I mention that the Hounds 14U team is hosting a tourney this weekend and the Thieme family is the slacker crew not available to help at all? Our long time baseball friends on the team were gracious and understanding. Mom has packed endless boxes and helped me get the house on the market with her mad organizational genius. Both parents are coming for moral support and unboxing at the new place tomorrow. Grandpa Tom spent his entire day driving Nick to and from Cincinnati for ball games so we could attend to the move. My next door neighbor Shelley dragged 4 big rugs from the curb to keep them from being ruined when they arrived earlier than expected. Karen showed up at my door with her headband and work clothes on ready to help me box up my life. The Kiffs hooked us up with both a realtor and an insurance man we dig and didn’t even act like they were bugged when we forgot their son’s graduation gift.
What I am trying to say is…………….WE ARE BLESSED BEYOND WORDS!
So, it’s a short entry today. I’m placing it in God’s hands and letting Him do with our next adventure as He wishes. I’m hoping He’ll choose to use us and our beautiful new place as a safe and positive environment for the our three crazy boys and their friends, for immediate and extended family gatherings, and for always remembering to be grateful to Him for it all.
“Global warming, my ass!” This is the response a friend sent when I shared the following tweet from our local ABC affiliate, WRTV:“@rtv6: Record low for Indianapolis tomorrow is 2 degrees set in 1873. That record is very much in jeopardy.”Another pal texted, “Why do we keep breaking all these crappy records?! SERIOUSLY…I need sun and heat!”
I admit, the 55 inches of snow we have received in Indianapolis this year is making me start to wonder whether the locusts are next. I know I am supposed to wake thanking God for the day, but I am feeling something less than gratefulness. It’s March 4th and it’s 11 degrees outside. I just want sunshine and a temperature warm enough to take a walk outside without my nostrils freezing when I inhale.
So, what’s my point?
Well, besides being another in a long line of frigid days, it’s also Fat Tuesday—Mardi Gras! Meaning what? It’s our last day to “revel” before 40 days of penitence, sacrifice during the season of Lent? Umm. This thought is a major struggle for me.
Here’s what I’m really feeling: I’m fat and it IS Tuesday. That’s about the only commonality between “Mardi Gras” and the space I am this day. I just put a roast in the crockpot and that’s the closest thing to a “king cake” happening at the Thieme house. It’s tax season and we are missing our resident CPA. The whole damp, white of the outdoors plus the frozen, slate colored sky is a winter that has been like the longest Lent I can imagine. Add to that the rawness we feel from losing my mother-in-law, followed shortly thereafter by the loss of a treasured uncle, and now I have painted you a picture of our emotional and physical state here at the Thieme house. Now, God wants 40 more days? What if even just being nice is starting to feel like a stretch?
“My soul is sorrowful even to death….”
Those are the words of Jesus that feel meaningful to me this day. He spoke them about how He felt knowing He would be put to death—for you and me.
I think the call for me today is to GET OVER MYSELF.
Like the older son in the famous “Prodigal Son” story, I have acted as if I am put upon. There he was, obeying his father, trying to do the right thing. Little brother disrespects his dad, runs off with his share of the money, blows the wad, and then comes back to a hero’s welcome. “Hello? Over here, Padre? Been doing all my work plus that little goofball’s jobs too? Now, you’re making over that guy? How about a little love pour MOI??!” I completely get that big brother. Legitimate beef, if you ask me!
I’m a lot like that bugged older brother as I think to myself how “poor me” this winter and growl at those around me (sometimes aloud, other times with my evil stare). Class act, huh?
Here’s a quote that reflects my feeling for what Lent should really be about in terms of my frame of mind:
“True humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” –C.S. Lewis
Lent is about reflecting on what Jesus did for us. It’s about gratefulness permeating us to the core of our being.
I, for one, can clearly see that my heart is not yet ready. It’s possible that I am just a touch crabby. So, MAAAAYBE I do need Lent.
It’s comforting to me knowing that Jesus spoke these words, “The flesh is weak, yet the spirit is willing.” The mind of a Christian should be open to God’s will even though we may not understand. It should be filled with compassion, showing love for others. We cannot suffer with those around us, we cannot love them as Jesus wishes, if we are too busy thinking about ourselves and grumbling about [fill in your irritants here].
We are called to live outside of ourselves, dropping any self-righteousness or self-pity we may surmise is justified. It isn’t.
“But You, O Lord are my protector, my glory, and the lifter up of my head.” (Ps. 3:3)
So, as Lent begins, I plan to make a conscious effort to begin my day with something slightly better than “Good morning, God. Talk to you later.” By focusing on all that is positive and beautiful, I know that I will open my heart to the great truth Jesus wants me to live— that all is a gift.
The saint to whom I will call for intercession this lent is Mother Teresa. She’s the perfect choice. Think about it. Where did she live most of her life? Calcutta. Google it. It’s similarities to downtown Carmel, Indiana are mindblowing—NOT! Who did she serve? The poorest of the poor. AND YET, instead of grumbling like yours truly about gloomy surroundings, or people that irritate, she was just such a cool chick, always quick to smile. She is famous for posting the following on the walls of her convent:
The Anyway Poem
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered; Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you’ve got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
Is it just me, or does this pithy little poem seem like a great Lenten list from which to choose? I believe I will start with a very intentional “Do good anyway” for my first week of Lent. I’ll let you know how it goes.
All Saint’s Day and Halloween were on a collision course this year here in Carmel. I don’t ever recall a government entity before changing the date of a holiday because of rain. I remember loathing the whole “when I was a kid, we used to walk 3 miles uphill both ways…” line of chatter that seemed to emanate from some members of my extended family. They always seemed to think that we “young people” were “soft”.
I have to say, I am old enough to finally understand where they were coming from. My thought process a couple weeks ago was that Halloween belongs in October and the kids need to “man up!”
Therefore, it will be of zero surprise that I decided we would NOT postpone Halloween and we just marched forward with our annual party. The house was filled with the laughter of 21 kids and many of their parents. Captain America, Jake from State Farm, a “Cereal” Killer, Cliff Paul, a Taco, a Tennessee Volunteer, an Artist, a Mouse, a Cowboy and several other children ages 9-16 took to the streets in the rain in search of giggles and some chocolate!
Returning to the house soaking wet and with precious little “loot”, their spirits were high nevertheless. We dug through drawers and passed out dry t-shirts from my sons’ closets and the kids ate chicken and noodles and downed the candy that I had purchased for neighborhood trick-or-treaters who stayed home this year. Some played X-box, some sat around the table and laughed, some played foosball………and they all laughed at each other’s rain soaked Halloween hair.
All I could think was about how blessed we all are to be surrounded by the smiles of happy, healthy children—and that of all the Halloweens, it’s this uber- wet 2013 that they’ll all surely remember.
“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called children of God. Yet so we are.” (1Jn 3:1)
The next morning at All Saint’s Day mass, I heard this bit of scripture in the second reading. It struck a chord. Actually, it kind of stung me.
SEE WHAT LOVE!
God is so good to me. I would have to bet He is getting a little bugged by my lack of a grateful heart in return. He pours on blessing after blessing, and I shrug them off, take them for granted and grumble back at Him like my son does when I ask him to take out the trash.
He gave me amazing parents, 3 healthy thoughtful boys, a cute, funny husband, a wonderful city to live in, a parish full of compassionate people, terrific schools for the education of my children, 2 gorgeous Goddaughters, a fav sis, sunsets…mad air hockey skills….and on and on.
So, why is it that I so often fail to gracefully carry the small crosses of everyday life?
The rude neighbor, the pounding headache, the coach who doesn’t seem to appreciate the “awesomeness” of my child, the little boy who prefers not to bathe—I am not gracious interiorly on these matters. Even my most patient moment is far from what I would deem “Mary-like”.
“Everybody’s got a little larceny operating in them, surely you know that?” –Bing Crosby
Sidebar: If you know the movie this quote comes from, then you are eligible for an automatic upgrade to first class in my book. Bing’s made a good point though, hasn’t he?
Allow me to digress and provide a just one specific example representative of the greater series of failures that has been on my heart lately.
Several days ago, my youngest came home after practice a bit overwhelmed. He was tired and hungry and his teacher was clearly out of control. It seems he announced there would be a big test THE NEXT DAY! Ugh! My sad, freckled faced boy was frustrated and exhausted.
“How long have you had this 4 page study guide, hon?”
“Today, Mom. We just found out today.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t have any more notice? 1 day?”
“Uh huh.”
Well, I was irked. You see, my little man is not quite there yet when it comes to independent study. This 8pm development also occurred just moments before the Colts were going to take over my large family room TV. I was already in my jams, ready to watch Andrew Luck get it done on Monday Night Football. NOW, I was in the study helping my third grader understand wavelength and amplitude.
THEN, it hit me.
I texted my friend whose son is in Zach’s class.
“How long has Anth had the science study guide?”
The quick reply was “He brought it home Friday, why?”
AHA!!!! The irritable feeling I was having towards my son’s science teacher was irrevocably transferred to the little criminal I am raising.
Suffice it to say I had an ugly temper tantrum and followed it up with an inappropriately loud homily about honesty.
Sadly, this one might be my holiest child. He’s the one who asks me to read to him about the saints, and who says things like “Jesus likes it when we come to mass.” I couldn’t seem to recall that while I was missing the Colts game to try and pass 3rd grade science….AGAIN.
But Bing was right. There’s a little larceny operating in all of us. This poor kid clearly inherited an extra dose of it from his maternal side of the family.
Still, a grateful, grace-filled mother would certainly have handled this situation with more patient affection than I did. I believe it may even be possible to sincerely and lovingly teach the lesson on honesty to the little criminal (ha?), or endure the headache without grumbling, speak well of the coach who cut your kid from the team, or smile at the difficult neighbor who dislikes your every move– for the love of Christ who loves us tenderly– even though we might be filled with piles of imperfections and a healthy dose of larceny ourselves.
I am screwing it up. God just loves me up. I give him back attitude. Real mature huh? I am not proud of myself.
So I went to confession this week. I told my confessor that I have a crappy attitude. I told him how blessed my life is and how I just interiorly feel bugged and exhausted every time God asks me to bear a little tiny cross. I might outwardly even be sunny, but inside I have an ungrateful heart. He smiled and he let me exhale—at considerable length. The guy is going to heaven. Then, he absolved me. He reminded me how I profess to enjoy St. Therese—whose life literally is a book on this exact subject of bearing our little crosses in love. He told me to get over myself, carry my crosses, and go to the chapel and say a prayer of gratitude.
Geez I love that sacrament. I went to that chapel and I did my penance. There, I read this:
“Brothers and sisters: we, though many, are one Body in Christ and individually parts of one another. Since we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us exercise them; if prophecy, in proportion to the faith; if ministry, in ministering; if one is a teacher, in teaching; if one exhorts, in exhortation; if one contributes, in generosity; if one is over others; with diligence; if one does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.
Let love be sincere; hate what is evil, hold onto what is good; love one another with mutual affection; anticipate one another in showing honor. Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord, Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, and persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the holy ones, exercise hospitality. Bless those who persecute you, bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12: 6-15)
Okay, God. I hear your marching orders. Thanks for giving me a do-over…..AGAIN.
Humdinger. –noun. (informal) A person, thing, action or statement of remarkable excellence or effect.
Additional context: This week was a humdinger.
Typically, I spend my time in a state of chaotic constancy. I go forward, day by day, and the sanctity I am afforded through grace is gained by raising kids. There are early morning wakeup calls for my three bleary-eyed boys, lunches to pack, carpools to drive, practice drop offs, and math facts to learn. Dinner should be hot and ready to eat anytime between 5:30-9pm. Text messages arrive while I am in my “office”—a light blue Chrysler Towne and Country—which smells very much like the inside of old baseball cleats. “Mom, I forgot my bat bag. Can you drop it at the school office before 3:30?” or “Mom, Z and I are wondering if we can eat the chocolate muffins on the table for our after school snack?”
There are 3rd grade CYO football games on Saturday mornings which are usually happening at the same time as basketball practice for the older boys. Sometimes, I am called on to help with a research project on Belarus or Azerbaijan, and we try to wrap those up before Sunday morning mass after which the Colts game takes over the family room. It’s a joy filled family life and extremely busy.
However chaotic this week has been, what is has not been is a typical week in the Thieme household. I went AWOL on Saturday and headed to the Windy City to catch a flight to Rhode Island. You see my little sister, Robin, is turning 40. The Dykhuizen family doesn’t mess around with birthdays and so for this auspicious occasion, Mom and I “kidnapped” Robin and we took off to Nantucket for a couple nights of celebration. The sunny little isle might be a tad light on Pinot Grigio and lobster bisque until the next ferry comes to port. But, I digress.
“Kidnapped” is really a poor choice of words. It implies a kind of spontaneity that is impossible for mothers with children at home. You cannot sweep away from reality a dedicated mom. It requires logistics: Willing and able grandparents, a friend (or 3) who have kids at your kids school, and a Pulitzer prize winning four page instructional essay.
This specific week in question, the maternal guilt was ratcheted up for me, the “kidnapper” a notch by the fact that my husband Tom, was in DC with the 8th grade class from St. Louis de Montfort Catholic School exploring our nation’s capital—leaving both parents gone at the same time! Here’s the thing Robin and I seem to both struggle to admit: we are raising a total of 5 bright, lovely children who are quite capable of thriving in our absence.
What’s my problem, anyway? Do I believe I am doing such a poor job that my boys are completely unable to bob and weave, unable to think and do a bit more for themselves than is typical? Am I so utterly filled with pride that I believe I am irreplaceable even for a day? I don’t think that’s it.
“If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother.” –Gilda Radner
My instincts tell me all this is really about guilt. There’s a maternal guilt so ingrained in us that it’s reflexive. It’s so utterly acceptable to blame mom when anything goes wrong with a child or a family in our culture. It’s why we mothers are natural Catholics. We have very little trouble with grasping the reality of our own sinfulness and failure. As a result of the unholy and unnecessary guilt, we struggle taking time for ourselves and the other women we cherish. Sadly, we take it for granted that they will completely understand.
So many times when I have gotten busy with my responsibilities and family life, I have let go of cherished time with other women I love. Their personal anecdotes, the nurturing we afford one another as women, it feels like a luxury. It’s not. It’s essential.
“For a lack of guidance a people falls, security lies in many counselors.” (Proverbs 11:14)
Women are especially cognizant of our innate need to hear and be heard. I try to be a good listener myself, in order to build and strengthen my relationships. I need that girl time to gain strength, I desire those words of affirmation and guidance, to do the work that God calls us all to do. In my everyday life, there is joy, but there is jeering, baiting, demanding too. There are swollen egos and plenty of lumps.
“Faithful friends are a sturdy shelter, whoever finds them finds a treasure. Faithful friends are beyond price, no amount can balance their worth.” (Sir 6:14-15)
From a spiritual standpoint, when I go too long without a few laughs and the counsel of godly people, I am quick to remember my mistakes and very soon I get caught in my unworthiness. Jesus could never use you, the devil whispers. You are sinful and you are useless. I hear his whispers loudest when the wick is getting short.
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light. –Edna St. Vincent Millay
Around my neck I often wear a medallion featuring St. Matthew. On the back is inscribed “Come follow me”. I bought this little treasure for myself a few years ago after a no-nonsense priest (who I find God uses to teach me about Him) sent me a beautiful photo of a painting by Caravaggio named “The Calling of St. Matthew”. I was riveted. Jesus saw a sinful man, a reviled tax collector, and looked upon him with love and called him to be His own. In the painting, Matthew appears to be placing his forehead in his hands. He makes this gesture as he is being called by Jesus. To me, it has always looked as if the great gospel writer is saying “Oh no! Not me. I am a mess. You don’t want me.” However, Matthew couldn’t refuse Our Lord. He followed.
“I am a sinner. This is the most accurate description. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner.” –Pope Francis
Calling of St. Matthew by Caravaggio
It appears I have something in common with this Pope. We are both sinners the Lord has looked upon. I have even heard it said he finds inspiration in the Caravaggio work I have come to admire, even if just via “Google”.
So, this week was a humdinger. There were planes, rental cars, hotels, ferry boats, field trips, babysitters, boarding passes and a big birthday was celebrated with my one and only sister. While my amazing mom, my sis and I lolly gagged in Nantucket for a few days, I would argue we were doing the work God called us to this week.
We were hugging, inspiring, listening, delighting, comforting, questioning, sharing, respecting, understanding, accepting, and zinging with joy because we have each other.
I came home reminded that there is indeed holiness in the chaotic constancy of raising children. There is also holiness in letting God just empty His dump truck full of love all over you for a couple days….and thanking Him for it.
Love you, Mom. Happy 40th, fav sis!
Let it shine this week everyone!!
……………………………………………………………
P.S. Here’s a post script “Hoo Haa!” for Grandpa Jim, as well as Nana and Didai (aka Irene and Bill Beck) for the babysitting love! Thanks also, Nick, Drew, Zach, Maddie and Ellie for being so flexible this week! You guys are all THE BOMB!
…and the disciples were continually filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit. (ACTS 13:52)
He Never Misses 