He Never Misses

Category: Family Life

  • 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.

  • Waiting for Your Chance to Talk?

    guardianangelfrustratedHave you ever had a moment when you realize that instead of truly listening, you are merely waiting for your chance to talk?  (All you truly patient and humble parents who would scarcely even consider interrupting your little angel as he recounts the how his older brother was playing unfairly or when he wants to tell you yet another knock-knock joke……well… you ladies and gents can stop reading here).

    If you are still with me, then I want to transport you to a tiny little “minivan moment” from this afternoon.

    “Mom?  Do you think it’s almost the end of the world?”

    “Z, oh my!  What would make you ask that?”

    “Well, Grandma Jane and Aunt Jennie have cancer.  Aunt Robbi, Mrs. Ferrucci and Mrs. Ryan all had kinda scary surgeries in the last couple weeks and you were at the hospital lots of times.  So, I was just wondering if maybe God is planning to bring the moms to Heaven first so when all the kids get there we won’t be scared.”

    HOLY COW.  I didn’t realize his little mind was racing around trying to make sense of the chaos.  Except for the fact that we have been praying together a lot for all these truly terrific women in our lives, I didn’t even sense he noticed much.  For a moment, I felt a guilt-filled mom pang.  I knew he had been trying to tell me before this moment that he was worried, but I hadn’t been paying enough attention.

    After I set aside the guilt, I thought “Our God is an Awesome God!”  How would we ever be able to make sense of anything without the gift of faith?  This silly little man in my world often reframes things through a Christ centered lens, and his comments often catch me off guard.  In his own little 9 year old way, Zach was being faithful, trusting God with his worries about his aunt, grandma, and the mothers of two of his close friends.  I have to say, I really love that.  It’s a terrific witness of faith from which I could learn much.

    You don’t have to do much digging through scripture to find out what Jesus had to say about the wisdom of children and the often beautiful, faith filled example they provide.

    When the chief priests and the scribes saw the wondrous things he was doing, and the children crying out in the temple area, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant and said to him, “Do you hear what they are saying?” Jesus said to them, “Yes, and have you never read the text, ‘Out of the mouths of infants and nurslings you have brought forth praise?” (Mt 21:15-16)

    God’s instrument today for me was my sweet freckle-faced boy.  The spirit filled message:   Listen to others with the intention to understand, and never forget that faith is a grace filled gift from our amazing God!!

    I do believe it’s possible that the most pressing communication foible we suffer from, collectively, is simply being inattentive.   Instead of focusing on others, we are thinking about what we will say or do next.   I wonder what incredible gifts God has given me that I have missed because I am thinking about me instead of the person to whom I am supposed to be directing my attention– really hearing?

    It’s time to drag out that Litany of Humility again before some wise priest issues it to me as a penance……..AGAIN.

    Am I the only one suffering from a recurrent case of this listening but not listening malady?  Who’s with me?

    The litany of humility asks for our Lord’s assistance in humbly following in His footsteps and casting aside, or at least offering up to Him, all those issues that come with our self-centeredness.  I am convinced that the fact that each time I read this prayer and never fail to think it is positively dreadful is a sure sign I need to pray it.

    LITANY OF HUMILITY

    O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

    From the desire of being esteemed,

    Deliver me, Jesus. (repeat after each line)

     From the desire of being loved,

     From the desire of being extolled,

     From the desire of being honored,

     From the desire of being praised,

     From the desire of being preferred to others,

    From the desire of being consulted,

     From the desire of being approved,

     From the fear of being humiliated,

     From the fear of being despised,

     From the fear of suffering rebukes,

     From the fear of being calumniated,

     From the fear of being forgotten,

     From the fear of being ridiculed,

     From the fear of being wronged,

     From the fear of being suspected,

     That others may be loved more than I,

    Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.  (repeat after each line)

     That others may be esteemed more than I ,

     That, in the opinion of the world,

     others may increase and I may decrease,

     That others may be chosen and I set aside,

     That others may be praised and I unnoticed,

     That others may be preferred to me in everything,

    That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should,  

    Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

    PS.  For what it’s worth, I sent a text to Aunt Robin.  She made a “facetime” call immediately to her nephew after hearing about his concerns.  Seeing her smiling face did wonders for Zach’s apocalyptic mood.  Get well fast, sis!  We have a vitally important appointment with Poolbar Jim we simply cannot miss!!

  • The Naked Saint on the Pizza

    03-st-francis-renounces-all-worldly-goods-1299“Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.”

    ― St. Francis of Assisi

    Earlier this week, I was the mystery reader in my son’s 2nd grade class.  Apparently the clues I sent in about myself made it “waaaay easy” to figure out who I was before I entered the classroom.  You see, “normal moms” send in clues about the type of minivan they drive or how many kids they have, while I chose to share slightly more colorful information about how I dominate my youngest son in wall ball and that I find watching golf on TV torturous.  I’m not sure how I went wrong there, but my little man was a touch irritated.  In any case, the class was expecting me and plenty squirrely when I sauntered in at the end of the day.

    First, I read a funny and silly book called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.  Mostly, I chose that one because it’s sure to get laughs from a class full of 8 year olds.  It did.  Then, I went with something a little different.  It was a book about St. Francis.  Perhaps it would be nice for the kids to hear about the saint after whom our new Pope chose his name?  I mean, I love St. Francis.  The Pope loves St. Francis.  His is just a beautiful story of conversion, leaving behind “things” and choosing God.  Nothing but good can come from learning a little more about St. Francis, right?

    WRONG.

    Let’s review the facts on the great saint from the perspective of an 8 year old.

    “Mrs. Thieme, he was kinda a rich guy with a mean dad, huh?”

    “Mrs. Thieme, Mrs. Thieme!  He was rich before he went crazy and got naked on the pizza.”

    “Well, sweetheart, the word is actually PIAZZA.  It’s not the same…”

    “Mrs. Thieme!!  Can we see the picture of the naked saint?”

    “Yeah, we wanna see the picture of the crazy naked guy!”

    To the parents of 2nd graders in my son’s class at St. Louis de Montfort, I apologize for any conversations you might have had to endure about the scantily clad, mentally unstable saint after whom the former Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio chose to name himself.  I meant well, my heart was rightly motivated, and it just didn’t translate how I intended.  For the record, there WAS a cartoon style illustration in the book which showed the unadorned backside of St. Francis renouncing his worldly possessions at the behest of Bishop Guido, but I skipped over the page 17 picture.  I did so much to the chagrin of all the boys and girls listening.

    Here’s the thing.  St. Francis is a saint worth knowing.  I am a touch friendlier with him than I am with some of his other cohorts there in heaven, because I spent 8 years of my life being taught by the Sisters of St. Francis of Perpetual Adoration (SSFPA) at St. Lawrence Catholic School as a kid.  Those gals made sure we knew all about Francis and his simple life of joy.  I knew for a moment he was considered the biggest fool in Assisi, that some people thought he was mad.  But, I looked at those gals who taught me in class each day, wearing those tragic brown outfits and I noticed their smiles.  Nothing spoke to me as a more powerful witness about the love of God than did those happy Franciscan sisters who had chosen to say yes to Jesus calling them to be His spouse.

    I was just dying to share a little piece of this amazing man with the kiddos.

    Without the ferocity of devotion St. Francis had to God centuries ago, this group of amazing religious women who helped me learn so much about the love of our Awesome Creator wouldn’t even exist.  That’s just one tiny thing among millions that a powerful crazy love for Christ can accomplish.  Francis was on fire with faith and that fire spread like a raging forest fire through hundreds of years all the way to Indiana.  Cool, huh?

    Even just this week, our new Pope preached about this idea of “apostolic zeal”.  Pope Francis said at mass on Thursday this week that Apostolic zeal, implies “an element of madness, but of spiritual madness, of healthy madness” in proclaiming Christ.

    He urged all present to press on with zeal, the kind of zeal clearly evident in that naked guy I tried to introduce to the 2nd graders.

    Said Pope Francis, “There are backseat Christians, right? Those who are well mannered, who do everything well, but are unable to bring people to Jesus through proclamation and Apostolic zeal. Today we can ask the Holy Spirit to give us all this Apostolic fervor and to give us the grace to be annoying when things are too quiet in the Church the grace to go out to the outskirts of life. The Church has so much need of this! Not only in distant lands, in the young churches, among people who do not know Jesus Christ, but here in the cities, in our cities, they need this proclamation of Jesus Christ. So let us ask the Holy Spirit for this grace of Apostolic zeal, let’s be Christians with apostolic zeal. And if we annoy people, blessed be the Lord. Onwards, as the Lord says to Paul, ‘take courage!’ ”

    I like this Pope.  He speaks my language.  Did you read what he said?

    “If we annoy people, blessed be the Lord.”

    In the spirit of being annoying  and not letting it drop already (a particular strength area of yours truly), I’ll give you a few neat facts about Francis I learned so long ago that I never got to share in 2B this week at St. Louis de Montfort School.

    • St. Francis invented the first creche in a mountain cave near Greccio where he celebrated Christmas mass in 1223 and shortly thereafter in 1224 received the stigmata.
    • St. Francis wrote the “Canticle of the Sun” but did not write “The Prayer of St. Francis”.
    • St. Francis was canonized in 1228 by Pope Gregory  IX in Assisi, and his feast day is celebrated Oct. 4.

    P.S.  Is it just me or do we need more religious women back in our Catholic schools ASAP?!  Let’s pray for vocations!

    “All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

    – St. Francis of Assisi

  • Up Until Now

    The Laundromat life....
    The Laundromat life….

    I believe I have shared before that the “house” part of “housewife” gives me a fair amount of trouble.  So, when a child fails to meet my remarkably low standards for cleanliness, it suffices to say things have gone far past messy and landed squarely in the middle of just plain “ick”.

    This is the predicament my oldest son landed in over the weekend.  He had already had a rough week having injured his back at practice, he was hobbling, a bit broken and I just didn’t have the heart to get grumpy.  When his father used the word “disgusting”, I figured it was time for an intervention.

    “How did you do this to yourself?” I asked my 15 year-old.

    “Well, I wish I had some exciting story to tell you, Mom, but my room just got away from me.  I’m kind of a disaster. ”

    Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they’re yours.  –Richard Bach.

    As we ate breakfast, I began noodling about how to handle this one.  Then, I told my sons that they needed to gather all their dirty laundry.   While I did the dishes and danced around the kitchen to my favorite Pandora channel, I heard the scurrying overhead.  A few moments later my incredibly bright middle kiddo, Drew, expressed fairly articulately the serious concern he had about the amount of laundry in his brother’s room.

    That’s when it hit me.

    “Boys, listen up!  I want you to put all your laundry into large trash bags and bring it downstairs. “

    “Ok, Mom.”

    As the trash bags filled my kitchen, I was warned that their numbers were going to be disturbing, and I admit, I didn’t realize Nick had that many clothes.  In all, more than 6 large trash bags were assembled.  Wondering if the Irish in my heritage might show itself, the boys searched my face looking for signs of an imminent temper tantrum.  They needn’t have worried this time.  I had devised a plan.  My spirit was calm.

    Here’s what I know from plenty of first-hand experience.  We all have well-worn patterns of defeat in our lives.   It was time for a little lesson on how the past doesn’t have to dictate the future and that we must take responsibility for making good choices.  Language can be powerful and words have the power to transform us.  We needed to invoke the power of “UP UNTIL NOW.”

    I instructed the boys to put the back row of seats down in the van and told the uninjured teenager who had warned me earlier about the volume of dirty clothes to load up the heavy laundry bags.  An act of Christian charity was about to be performed by all of us for the benefit primarily of my oldest son, but hopefully the lesson would resonate.

    “Guys, I need you to bring me every quarter you can find.   And, Zach—grab a deck of cards.“

    “What’s going on, Mom?”

    “Boys, we are going to the laundromat.”

    The Kwik Kleen Laundromat in Carmel, Indiana is what I would deem typical as these places go.  It was adequate.  However, the rows of washers and dryers were an unexpected delight to my three laundry novices.  They seemed a bit giddy in amazement of the place, which I estimate was last renovated perhaps in 1982.  Who knew it could be so much fun to load clothes and coins into washers—13 washers!!?

    Zach and I played ourselves into a 5-6 euchre deficit against his older brothers while the washers did their job, and then the completely “awesome” complimentary wheeled baskets whizzed about the place at the hands of the Thieme boys as we dropped quarter after quarter into dryers all over the building.  We were operating so many of them at the same time that my 8 year old worked off his breakfast checking the timers on them all and providing play-by-play.

    There are no mistakes. All events like this are blessings from which we can learn.  God clearly tells us that our challenges and problems are not unique.  No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to us all.  (1 Cor 10:13).

    When we had finished washing, drying, and folding all these loads of clothes, I looked around and realized that my guys were all smiling from the experience.  We had giggled our way through the laundromat afternoon, mercilessly teasing Nick for the hole he had dug for himself, but with our good temperaments undamaged.  We had freed him to begin again.

    Smiling and loading up the van was the perfect time, I thought, to underline today’s lesson.  Surrendering negative thoughts and changing poor patterns means looking to God for a new way.  It’s news I wish I had assimilated years ago, and so, as I learn it myself I want very much to share the lesson with my sons right away.  Waiting until age 42 is a touch pathetic, so I am trying to save my boys a long ride on the “struggle bus.”  How do I explain what we’ve just done?  I have about 2 sentences to impart some hard learned wisdom, since that’s the attention span of 8-15 year old boys.  Hmm.  Choose your words carefully, Shelly.

    Come, Holy Spirit. That was my silent prayer.

    Then, I said, “Nick.  Do you remember telling me this morning you’re a disaster?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Up until now.”

    “Huh?”

    “UP UNTIL NOW, you have been a laundry disaster.”

    “And now, I have a fresh start and I will do a better job. “

    “That’s exactly right.  You can do this better.  I know you will.”

    This is what God tells us.  You must replace negative thoughts with positive ones.  We can screw up in ways small and large, but His advice is filled with common sense.

    Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me.  Then the God of peace will be with you. (Phil 4:8-9)

    In other words, think positive and positive change is possible.  When tempted to fall back into old patterns of unhealthy thinking or behavior, add the words “up until now” to your sentence.  I’ve been trying this of late and I think it’s brilliant.

    “Up until now, I have been a laundry disaster.”

    “Up until now, I have failed in exercise.”

    What about you?  Up until now, what have you done??

    Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies. – Mother Teresa