He Never Misses

Category: Catholicism

  • Prayers for Boilermakers…

    “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)

  • She’s not going to make it

    Jane M. Thieme Jan. 17, 1943-Dec. 4, 2013
    Jane M. Thieme
    Jan. 17, 1943-Dec. 4, 2013

    “Come now.  She’s not going to make it…”

    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. 

    AMEN.

  • Let’s Start an Intention Avalanche!

    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.

    Now, pass it on!  Get busy!

  • Forgive Me, Father, for the Crappy Attitude

    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.

     

     

  • It’s Up to You- No More Than Two

    Banner at Northview High School in southern Indiana
    Banner at Northview High School in southern Indiana

    “It’s up to you, no more than two.”

    In an apparent attempt to “educate” the students entrusted to their care, the powers that be at Northview High School (right here in Indiana….Brazil, Indiana to be exact) have posted this banner.  The title of the banner is “Zero Population Growth”.

    If we stop having so many children, the world is going to be vastly improved.  That’s the message.

    I had no idea Tom and I were contributing to the downfall of humanity.  Thanks, Northview, for clearing that up for us with your math project.

    What I think is that this is an unbelievable example of the culture of death which permeates our lives and those of our young people.  Offensive is the most gracious adjective whose use I could tolerate here.

    Check out this story for more details and decide for yourself.

    http://on-this-rock.blogspot.com/2013/10/why-we-need-solid-catholic-schools.html?m=1

    What does our Lord have to say?

    “God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply.  Fill the earth and govern it.  Reign over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, and all the animals the scurry along the ground.”  (Gen 1:28)

    Let us pray:

    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 evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.  Amen.

  • Religious Persecution: Let’s NOT?

    Irish crossRESOLVED: That the guarantee of the rights of conscience, as found in our Constitution, is most sacred and inviolable, and one that belongs no less to the Catholic, than to the Protestant; and that all attempts to abridge or interfere with these rights, either of Catholic or Protestant, directly or indirectly, have our decided disapprobation, and shall ever have our most effective opposition. –ABRAHAM LINCOLN

    Published in a book written in 1920 titled Abraham Lincoln, Man of God by Dr. John W. Hill, this quote rang in my head when I read it today in a news story.

    I loathe involving myself in any conversation that is political in nature.  It causes uncomfortable disharmony interiorly, and I value harmony much more than I care to admit.  That desire to distance myself from some flavors of discord is sometimes holy and other times not so much.

    Today I’ve bumped up against a problem.  So, here I go stirring the pot.

    My oldest son is 16.  He mumbles.  His room smells like the inside of a sneaker after practice.  I try not to pick fights too much but he’s driving me to stick my tongue out at him after he leaves the room these days.  That’s why it blows my mind that he is the one who made me realize I have to go on the record on this whole dreaded matter of “Obamacare”.

    I’m not going to discuss our silly government who closes down the WWII Memorial to vets and leaves open the fitness center for Congressmen.  I am assuming that all reasonable people are with me on that one.  So, I’m sticking my neck out for one reason.  I don’t want to show up at the pearly gates and have to explain why I run off at the mouth about so many things that don’t matter a lick and chose to keep quiet on this one.

    “Mom?  The Little Sisters of the Poor have a crappy choice.  Do I have this right?  Poor Nuns, like literally poor—it’s in their name– who take care of equally poor old people with nowhere else to go have to either agree to pay for abortion drugs or else give the government like a million dollars a day?”

    “Yes, hon. “

    “Well, don’t you think the people who work there knew they were going to be working for Catholics when they took the job?  I mean, obviously you’re gonna offend a nun if you ask them to do that.  They’re NUNS.  It seems like you would just not work there if you wanted that.   I mean the place is called SAINT Augustine.  Why not just apply for a job at Starbucks or something instead?”

    So, my teenager wants to understand what’s happening?  The same kid who barely seems to notice there are others even in his space some days?  The kid’s observation seems pretty spot on.  You see, freedom to WORSHIP is not the same as freedom of CONSCIENCE.  Abraham Lincoln understood it very clearly.   Despite being a teenager, Nick seems to find the logic mind-bending too.

    This is America:  Land of the free and home of the brave.  Today it’s my turn to be brave and go on the record.

    Everyday, the Catholic Church feeds, clothes, shelters and educates more people than any other organization in the world.  It truly makes me proud to be Catholic.  Without freedom of conscience rights, this is in jeopardy.  If the statistics I read today are correct (and it is possible since Google has been wrong before), 13% of medical care institutions in the United States are Catholic.

    Here’s what I think.  I think anyone who truly believes in God (by any name), respects the freedom of conscience rights of others.  Even kids know this interiorly.  Well, those that are blessed do.  That’s why Nick was thrown.  He understands the problem very easily.  Why?   It’s because he is a believer.

    When I was about nine years old, we used to play “kick the can” in the backyard with the neighbors.  I would occasionally complain about the choice of game (mostly because I was slow and somewhat afraid of the dark).  One of the Benjamin boys would inevitable yell “What you’re problem?  Is it against your religion or something?”

    I would argue this oft heard phrase indicates that even children recognize one ought not to interfere with matters of faith.  It’s sacrosanct.  A smart guy named Lincoln apparently thought so too.

    “NO Brian, it’s not against my religion but how about let’s NOT and say we did?  Cuz I am so sick of this game!”

    Those who argue that we Catholics are being “intolerant” on this matter of Obamacare  or are “overly sensitive” are largely unchurched people, I would guess.  Those who love God and choose faith in whatever tradition generally appreciate freedom of conscience and grasp the difference between that and merely the “freedom to worship” mindset that is prevalent in our overwhelmingly secular culture.

    A Jewish friend with whom I have shared this debate quietly,  quickly came to understand my perspective once we chatted.  She believes in freedom of religion, not just freedom of worship.  That’s because Judaism is not just a set of beliefs about God, it’s a comprehensive way of life filled with rules and practices that affect every aspect of life:  what you can and cannot eat, what you can and cannot wear, how to conduct business, who you can marry, how to observe holidays, how to treat others.  This set of rules is called halakhah.  What I have been told is that traditional Jews believe that properly observed, it turns the most mundane or small things into acts of religious significance, which in turn leads one closer to God.

    So, here’s the deal.  What’s being asked of Catholics now is a violation of conscience.  Or as Brian Benjamin would prefer “it’s against my religion.”

    If violating the conscience rights of another doesn’t turn one’s stomach, then what I think we have is a person who does not realize that God loves them.  Our intense prayers are needed.  There is only one, and he cannot prevail, who wishes for a soul to lack a relationship with God.

    For me personally, I know that I fail over and over.  I try not to worry too much about perfection but just persist giving my best effort.  I just try to give my heart to Jesus.  I know that He will take it, mold it, and fill it with the fire of His love if I keep asking.  Therefore, there’s no judgment here on this matter of making your own choices.  In Shelly’s world, YOU ARE FREE TO MAKE YOUR CHOICE about your own life, lifestyle, and healthcare.  God gave us all the gift of free will.

    Don’t ask me, however, to give up my freedom of conscience rights to pay for another man’sfree will choices.

    That’s called religious persecution.

    This is America:  land of the free.

    Let’s NOT?  I’m sick of it.

    Sidebar:  Did you know my given name is actually Michelle?  That will help here below.

    Here’s the prayer to my patron Saint, a fitting prayer for my petition today:  That all souls may know the love of God in this life and ever after.

    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 evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.  Amen.

  • Do You Smile Like a Stewardess?

    “Do you smile like a stewardess? “  –Pope Francis

    Sweatshirt weather, colorful leaves, apple cider, and college football are some of the reasons I love this time of the year.  There is also a treasure trove of feast days of many of my favorite saints:  Therese of Lisieux, Matthew, Francis of Assisi, John Henry Newman, and Teresa of Avila.  If you don’t know them, for goodness sakes look them up—they are in a category I call “crazy amazing”!

    Call me eccentric if you wish, but these are people I consider friends.  Through the example of their lives, they help me realize that Jesus is the real lover of our souls, and that all the blessings He showers upon us are the means He uses to urge us to love Him in return.   When you combine the sunshine and bonfire weather with the inspiration, it’s just a great big hug from our Awesome God, reminding me each autumn just how much I am loved.

    Unfortunately, it’s not so for everyone.  Chances are, I’m preaching to the choir here.  I’d be willing to bet that MOST Catholic blog readers who’ve made their way this deep into the internet world are likely people who already know that Jesus loves them.

    So, here’s the question:  Do you act like someone who knows God loves them, or do you smile like a stewardess?

    This is the question posed recently by Pope Francis to a group largely made up of religious men and women.  It was shared, essentially, as a one sentence conscience exam on sanctity.   It struck me as a remarkable, powerful, and extremely simple bit of wisdom.

    St. Teresa of Jesus said it years ago, “A sad saint is a sad saint.”

    We all know when a smile is forced and inauthentic.  Let’s try saying “buh-bye” to whatever is not genuine.   We all respond to a smile that is the fruit of joy and holiness.

    Here’s why it’s so incredibly important.

    “The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.”  — Mother Teresa

    Today, I am issuing a challenge to all willing to take it.  Let’s BE Christ today.  The world is filled up with people whose hearts are lonely and broken.  We are the hands and feet of Christ.  Look around today.  Share a brave, genuine smile, or a cheerful gesture.  Then, repeat tomorrow.  Who’s with me?

    If you’re not yet convinced, don’t take it from me, read this last little bit from one of our great October saints who says it much better than I could (his feast IS TODAY):

    Gloom is no Christian temper; repentance is not real which has not love in it.  We must live in sunshine, even when we sorrow; we must live in God’s presence, we must not shut ourselves up in our own hearts, even when we are reckoning up our past sins.  — John Henry Cardinal Newman

  • Humdinger of a Week

    NantucketHumdinger. –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
    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!

  • A Dog Named Buddy

    “A single act of love makes the soul return to life.”  –St. Maximilian KolbeBuddy

    Maybe it’s the fact that I am trying to kick a diet coke habit.  Perhaps it’s because my fridge repair guy has cancelled for the 2nd time.  I’m not entirely sure the reason, but I can say for certain that I wasn’t in any jeopardy of being accused of excessive holiness this morning.

    I was focused on a long list of priorities to manage and errands to run.  On the top of my pile are multiple sets of some ridiculous forms the kid’s school has been pestering me for…..FOREVER.

    I wanted to shout, “My kids haven’t changed doctors, they still aren’t allergic to anything, we haven’t moved, and our cell phone numbers remain the same.  Yes, you can give my kid a Tylenol if he has a headache.   We still don’t care which number you’re going to use on the phone tree that has never been used in my last 10 years at this school… and last but not least….our language preference is still ENGLISH!  Why can’t we just click a box that says SAME AS LAST YEAR?!”

    These are the things that drive me crazy.  Between them and the incessantly barking neighbor dogs, it was just getting to me.  Clearly, I thought, I have lost it.  I need to go get sweaty and work off the anger management problem that seems to be lathering up.

    As I drove my blue minivan towards the gym, I noticed the car ahead of me had pulled to the side of the road and stopped.  There she was– an anguished, gray-haired hysterical woman– in the middle of the street.  Inching closer, I could hear her crying and see that there was a dog lying motionless at her feet.  She was inconsolable.  Oh gosh.

    The traffic began to backup on the busy road, but everyone gave her respectful space.  It was truly a poignant scene, which made my heart hurt and brought me out of myself.  Making my way out of the area after a few minutes,  I found myself asking God to bring this stranger peace of heart.  It was hard to watch her pain, as she was so raw with emotion, and it remains with me still.

    That said, I think it’s worth confessing that I, myself, am not really a dog fan (as you may have inferred in the earlier paragraph).  I have never quite connected with the animal lovers of the world.  I am fully aware of the obvious flaw in character that I am revealing when I share this, by the way.  That said, a friend who knows this about me smiled a bit at my sugary sentimentality over the woman and her lost canine companion from this morning.  She explained to me that a good dog loves you when no one else does, is always happy to see you and she said, “sometimes, nothing feels better than being loved even when you don’t deserve it.”

    LIGHT BULB MOMENT.

    God loves me even when I don’t feel lovely.  He loves me when I feel abandoned and ignored.  Always.  No matter what.

    God uses dogs too?  They are instruments of His love.  Just like amazing girlfriends, loving spouses, freckle-faced kids, beautiful sunsets, and knockout roses.

    Who knew?

    Notice how when you start remembering to love others, think of them before yourself, you come out of yourself and suddenly what seemed so bothersome is much less noticeable?  When I began to earnestly pray for Ruth and her dog Buddy this morning, I forgot all about my lack of ice cubes and my stack of forms.

    Here’s a little scriptural wisdom I could probably use to have tattooed to my arm.

    “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8

    I’m going to work on it.  It’s that whole concept of thinking more about loving the next guy first, before myself, that gives me fits.  Sometimes I wonder if I am hopeless.  Pretty sure, for example that I need a ladle full of extra grace to overcome the incessantly barking dogs thing.

    God did point out to me today that dogs can rather beautifully serve His purpose.  It’s funny how loud he yells sometimes, so, I’ll try.

    What does He yell at you about?

  • I am an American, I am a Catholic

    IamAnAmericanMy alma mater, Purdue University, has carved out a unique way to honor our nation before home football games.  If you’re a Boliermaker, then I don’t need to explain.  For the uninitiated, here’s the drill.

    A proud tradition of Ross-Ade Stadium pregame ceremonies is the reading of this tribute to freedom by Roy Johnson, voice of the Purdue “All-American” Marching Band.

    “I am an American. That’s the way most of us put it, just matter of factly. They are plain words, those four: you could write them on your thumbnail, or sweep them across this bright autumn sky. But remember too, that they are more than just words. They are a way of life. So whenever you speak them, speak them firmly, speak them proudly, speak them gratefully I AM AN AMERICAN!”

    Every time I hear Roy’s booming voice and the crowd proudly shouting along with him on those last four words, I am reminded about what a terrific place this is that I call home and the amazing people who died so that I could be free.

    Yes, it’s true that now and then over the years we find the voters have chosen a rummy to represent us or run the big show in DC.  I am not proud of my fellow Americans who swindle millions of dollars from one another or worse yet who commit heinous crimes that simply cannot be defended. There are people who hate us everywhere on this globe, and many of them have valid gripes.  Still, my home is this imperfect and wonderful place where we watch bottle rockets shoot into the sky off piers over the lake every July 4 while we listen to Lee Greenwood sing “God Bless the USA”.  The stars and stripes are always going to be home to me.  I will spare you the list I have compiled about what makes the country great from my spot here in Indiana.  You surely have your own top 10 anyway.

    Occasionally, when I am particularly aggravated by the way things are going in the US of A, though, I think about where might I move if I were going to get out of “Dodge.”  I could definitely become Canadian.  I mean, Canada is close and the people are nice, eh?  I like Tim Horton’s and I could get used to gravy with my fries.  Let’s be honest, though….they are better with Heinz 57 slathered all over them and it’s darn cold up there.  I AM AN AMERICAN. Here is where I belong.

    It’s very much the same thing for me faith wise.  I am Roman Catholic.  My church is home.  None other will do.

    This week I received an angry reply to a blog post.  That is a generous description on my part, if I am candid.  I will not include it here because the tone was so acerbic and the content inappropriate, but much of the frustration was squarely aimed at Pope Francis and anyone who might support him.  However, the reader rightly noted that the Catholic Church has made some grave mistakes and worse yet committed heinous crimes that cannot be defended. There are people who hate us everywhere on this globe, and many of them have valid gripes.  Still, my home is this imperfect and wonderful place called Catholicism.

    Every time I re-read the angry note I received,  it reminds me of Pilate and the crowd yelling “crucify Him” to the most innocent person imaginable.  I am reminded about what a terrific place this is that I call home, all because of one amazing man who faced that crowd in obedience, who died so that I could be free.

    For those of you familiar with Catholic convert Dorothy Day, she said  “The Church is at times a spotless bride of Christ and at other times she is the whore of Babylon, but we love her to death because she is Christ and she has the words of everlasting life.”

    I would argue one simply cannot separate Christ from His Church.  They are one in the same if you believe, as I do, that Jesus is alive.

    Perhaps when I decide to become Canadian, I will do as my youngest once suggested he might do and convert to Judaism.  After all, as my wise youngest son has pointed out, “Those are good people Mom.  Jesus was Jewish.”.

    Naaa.  It just isn’t for me.

    So, even though I have heard it said that the Church is always God hung between two thieves, she is my home.  To whom would I go, if not to Jesus?  No other church will do.

    St. Teresa of Avila. She was a little bit Catholic too.
    St. Teresa of Avila. She was a little bit Catholic too.

    I AM AN AMERICAN.
    I AM A CATHOLIC.

    Home IS where your heart is.