Christmas blessings

It was an especially nice Christmas. I don't usually have the entire week off of work, but since the company announced a plant shutdown for the week, I made the best of it. Fortunately I had vacation available, and though I was planning to carry those days forward into next year, the time off was certainly no disappointment.

Tuesday night our oldest two grandsons slept over. They're each spending the remainder of the holidays with their respective "other parents," and we were beginning to think we wouldn't see them at all during the season. What a pleasant surprise. We braved the icy roads so they could visit with their new cousin for the first time, and we had a hoot playing with their new Nerf guns. On Christmas Day, the rest of the family came over for dinner. It was an unexpected blessing, as our youngest and oldest daughters hadn't been together with each other since, well, last Christmas.

After everyone left on Christmas night, mrs tg was ready to go visit with a friend. Having gotten about 5 hours of sleep between the midnight and Christmas morning Masses, I was more interested in a little quiet prayer time and an early retirement to bed. But when the phone rang with a very nice call from our goddaughter's family, I was elated to put my plans on hold. It was a wonderful telephonic reunion.

The quiet time with the Lord, praying by the light of the Christmas tree, was the perfect nightcap. And mrs tg received a treat when she got home and found her side of the bed toasty, as I (uncharacteristically) thought to heat her foot warmer and put it between the sheets before I settled in.

Finally preparing the way

One of my favorite places to visit is the Abbey of Gethsemani near Bardstown, KY. It was the first Trappist monastery in the nation, and the one to which all others in the U.S. trace their lineage. I love the cycle of prayer, and the extended periods of silence available to the retreatant there. But because I usually get too wrapped up in "daily life," it usually takes me most of a day to settle my spirit down and really experience the quiet peace of my surroundings.

Likewise, one of my favorite Advent traditions is to light our wreath early in the morning and pray the Office of Readings by its light. This simple, quiet practice reminds me of my retreats among the Trappists. However, this Advent has so atypical! It was the middle of the second week before we were able dig out our wreath and buy new candles. And just like my retreats at the abbey, it has taken some time to encounter a sense of the Lord's presence in this morning prayer time.

The thing is, our spirituality and our lives should not focus too much on our feelings. I know that when I pray, I meet the Lord, whether I feel I have or not. And when I persevere in prayer despite whatever my feelings may be, I will grow in the Lord. That doesn't happen by my efforts, but by God's grace. Still, like most gifts, it must be opened to make a difference in my life.

Another wonderful weekend

Saturday we hosted our Marriage Encounter circle's family Christmas party. What a great time. I was so glad mrs tg felt up to keeping this commitment; the group would have understood had she opted out, but it was good for us to get together with them. We ended up with about 35 people here.

The group traditionally holds a Christmas pageant during the party, with the adults reading the various parts, the children dressing up, and everybody singing the hymns. Due to the dearth of girls in attendance, our 3-year-old granddaughter ended up portraying Mary. She had a blast! She loves to dress up, and we had to be patient for her to be ready to remove her costume afterward. Most everyone left soon thereafter, but a few of us braved the chilly night air to go caroling outside some of our neighbors' houses. What a great evening!

Sunday, Jubilee was at one of the parishes in the northern reaches of archdiocese for an Advent Evensong program. It was a beautiful, newly expanded facility. As we worked through our positioning beforehand, we encountered a serious feedback problem due to the placement of one speaker in their sound system. Fortunately, we were finally able to get the sound where we wanted it, augmenting the natural acoustics with one mic that pulled double duty for soloists. I served as lay presider for the service, which provided a rare opportunity to listen to the group sing. How uplifting! The parish immediately tried to get us for The Way of The Cross for this coming Lent, suggesting that their usual (if non-traditional) Tuesday stations wouldn't conflict with any of our existing Friday and Sunday commitments. The thing is, we're all volunteers with other obligations, some in full-time or other volunteer music ministry, many of us in day jobs, not to mention our primary ministry: our families. As much as we'd love to go back to minister to this remote part of the archdiocese, we're fully booked for Lent, 2009. Looks as if we may have our first 2010 gig lined up already, though!

What a week . . .

I think the only way to do last week justice is to blog on it as if in real time. So these entries will reflect the stress, frustration, and blessings of last week as if they were happening currently. In fact, since I can set the publication date and time of each post, they'll appear as if I entered them as they were happening. So before this one, the last entry that I made at the posted time was "At peace." Due to their length, you may have to pull down the archive at left, starting with November.

On the off chance someone is reading this who was involved in these events, know that my love for you exceeds whatever other feelings are expressed below.

Home at last

Sure enough, about 9:30 a.m. my wife's cell phone rings. She delivers the message just as I suggested. We call back to remind them that the van seats will slide forward to make more room for the baggage. She soon calls back to let us know they've gotten it packed up and they're on the way out.

We stop by dad's before leaving. We know there's more lunchmeat and rolls there than he'll be able to eat before they go bad, so pack some for our lunch, and then say goodbye again. The drive back is an adventure. Snow starts around Cumberland; at Washington, PA traffic is at a standstill on I79. We exit the interstate to US40, to find the going only slightly faster, but work our way down the icy hill without sliding off the side of the road, then make our way back to I70. We don't know for sure that oldest daughter has made it through okay, as we bypassed the cause of the backup, and for some reason they're ignoring their phones. Is it just me, or is that rude of them when they're driving our van?

We hit another very scary spot heading into Wheeling, WV, 10 mph max downhill on I70, with a tendency to slide down the banked curves, but it was mostly smooth driving thereafter, if a little slower than usual.

Once back home, we finally reach oldest daughter to let her know we're getting the van, then I go get Col Potter. We meet back up at youngest daughter's place and order pizza. She and the baby couldn't travel yet to attend the funeral, and her other kids are thrilled to see us. We get to hold little Emma Faith for the first time, going home to collapse into bed around 11.

Wait a sec.

It's before midnight!! Woo-hoo!!!

I've been this glad to be home before. Once. But I'm really glad to be here now.

Rest in peace, mom. Pray for us.

Discharged car and grandson, family visits, late logistics

This (well, yesterday, now) morning I go out for milk, and decide to get some yogurt for the trip home tomorrow, too. Daughter calls for a ride from hospital to hotel, as grandson is being discharged. I call the shop; they've just gotten the part and will have my car ready by the time I can get there. Mrs tg isn't dressed yet, so I wait for her. We go get my car, which is now running fine, and mrs tg drives her sister's car back to the house so she can have it back. Meanwhile I head to hospital, where we wait 20+ minutes for a wheelchair to bring grandson down to car. Then to pharmacy, where grandson and I again play "I Spy" for what seems like an hour. After dropping them at the hotel, I head to dad's house to give him an update. I think I might take a few minutes to decompress there, but mrs tg's oldest brother and his family are there, too, so this is unlikely to be a restful atmosphere. I drive back to sister-in-law's place, am getting a bite to eat when mrs tg announces she's ready for us to head back to dad's.

I very quietly turn and walk up the stairs, enter the guest bedroom where we're staying, and lie down across the bed. I really need a few minutes respite at this point. Mrs tg comes in to ask what's wrong, and I know I'd have a hard time explaining, so I don't really try. I understand she's been patiently waiting there for hours while I drove between and waited outside of the repair shop, the hospital, the pharmacy, the hotel, her dad's house, and her sister's house. At this precise moment, I need to catch my emotional breath. I ask her for a few minutes, after which I go back downstairs and ask if she's ready to leave.

Last night her sister timidly asked if we could be on our own tonight so she could have dinner with her sons & their girlfriends, and of course we don't mind in the least. We'd gotten an e-mail from one of my cousins suggesting we get together, and mrs tg and I agreed it would provide a good chance to get out of her sister's way if we visited him and his wife. But after we're at her dad's with family for a while, she lets me know she'd really rather not leave. She rarely sees her oldest brother, who lives around San Jose, or her aunt and uncle from Washington. We agree it will just be me visiting my cousin, and I head up to his house for a few hours. What a nice, relaxing visit, after which I go back to pick up wife and middle daughter, bid everyone farewell, and head back to sister-in-law's house. Except first there's a side trip to the hotel (opposite direction) because oldest daughter left something behind.

Finally arriving at wife's sister's place, I realize as we walk in front door that I've made a terrible logistical oversight. Middle daughter rode to MD with oldest daughter's family in our van, but is riding home with us. This means my bike, which rode in my back seat on the drive here, must go into trunk for the trip home, which in turn means no room for suitcases. All of this I knew already, but finally realize that there's no way for us to meet oldest daughter to transfer stuff into the van in the morning, because we won't all fit with all this stuff! So another round trip to the hotel is needed to put our bags in the back of the van. Fortunately, I realize that if I make the drive tonight I can sleep in tomorrow morning. I'll finally get to collapse in bed around 2 a.m., after our latest night yet. At least I won't have to be up in the morning before they leave; they're planning a 7 a.m. departure. I tell mrs tg that when (not if; I know it like I know the sun will rise) oldest daughter calls to say they can't get everything in, to tell them they have a choice: they can take the bags or they can take her sister.

Appendectomy, funeral, cell phone, Madden, milk

Another middle-of-the-night call informs us grandson will indeed have morning surgery. Sister-in-law and her husband can get by with one car for the day, so graciously loan us their other. I drop mine off with wife following (possibly the world's worst follower; she's afraid to stay close, and there's traffic). We then go by hospital (again, along the way) for her to check on daughter (shaky, after all night there and mostly awake, and son in surgery), then go pick up programs. Funeral is nicely attended. Wife loses cell phone at church. (No, I'm not making all of this up. This is really how our week has been.) After the service at the gravesite, a brother-in-law has a dead battery. Fortunately another brother-in-law has a power jumper, as my cables are in the trunk of my car, in the shop. After dropping wife off at luncheon at parish hall, I go back to dad's house, where I saw her phone on the table earlier. It isn't there. Fortunately when I get back to the hall and check with the pastor, he tells me that someone has found it and turned it in at the parish center; we're even more grateful a little while later, when the pastor brings it over to us, as someone has taken the trouble to deliver it. I check in with the automotive shop again, and find that indeed I need the part I'd taken a pass on the previous day. It will still take a day to get it in. ** Sigh **.

We head to the hospital to check in on grandson. He's sleeping. His great-grandpa and one of his great aunts also drop in on us while we're there, and we leave together to head to dad's house, where everyone is gathering. Continued eating and drinking and visiting ensue. There are a couple bags of lumpia in the freezer, which mrs tg's sister-in-law (oldest brother's wife, from the PI) has sent previously but no one has had time to make during mom's illness. Youngest brother starts frying them, but now sister-in-law who made them in the first place arrives to take over.

I'm enjoying all the activity, yet also maintain an emotional distance. There is one family member who has never forgiven me for a past offense. Really, I'm on her side about the whole thing; the rest of the family has been exceedingly gracious to me, and I really don't deserve it (but then, that's what grace is). But this has caused a rift between them all for which I alone seem to understand that I am responsible; I'm grateful to see this starting to heal, and if that means I have to feel a bit of the isolation I deserve, I will bear it in silence. This day isn't about me, and I know the rest will make up for it with their love and acceptance.

About 7 p.m. I head back to the hospital to stay with grandson for a few hours, until around 10. Mom has only had 2 hours sleep in the last day, so will nap before coming back. Grandson and I play an old Madden (my first time) and some basketball on the game console they've wheeled into his room. He kicks my tail. It's probably the high point of the trip. About 9:45 daughter calls, asks if she can take a bath before coming back; I'm sure she doesn't plan on falling asleep in tub, but she does anyway, getting back to room about 11:30. I'm supposed to get milk on the way home. All grocery stores along the way are closed. I get to the last one at 12:03, but they closed at midnight. I bang my head against the door frame, just once, and head home to sister-in-law's house. She and her husband have been so gracious. Another late night; I've lost track of how many in a row.

More sick grandkids, viewing, more car, appendix

Sometime around 3 a.m. the cell phone rings again. Granddaughter is sick, too. Why we need to know this in the middle of the night is beyond us.

My fears of my car problem being self-inflicted are unfounded. (Phew!) Apparently some critter crawled up under my hood and chewed on the plug wires. Weird, as this usually only happens when a car is idle for an extended period, which mine hasn't been. Also the battery is cracked and leaking, and the backfire has cracked the air filter housing cover. I have them do the battery (which normally I'd do myself, but I'm in a bind for time) and plug wires, will have to wait a day for the cover; figure I'll skip the cover until we can get back home.

At dad's house, I offer again to work up a program for the funeral tomorrow. We don't have all the details in hand yet, but I format it based on a sample and save it to fill in the blanks later. Problem is, afternoon viewing is 3-5 (family at 2:30) and parish office closes at 4. So, go to pick up daughter and non-sick grandkids for afternoon viewing. When I arrive, I'm asked to come up to the room after all, to press a shirt for grandson. At the last minute, daughter decides granddaughter must've just overeaten, as she hasn't been sick any more, and she gets her dressed, too. Oldest grandson is still not feeling well. We go to viewing, and after a brief while, I take sister-in-law aside to get remaining info for program. Then, to church office to pick out clip art for cover; to dad's house, which is locked; back to funeral home to get key; back to dad's house, finish program, then print 3 times as I spot a formatting error and make a printing mistake; back to parish office just before they close; back to dad's house to call the car shop. Car is ready. They close at 5. Back to viewing for a few minutes, then go to get car. Oldest daughter and kids go with me, so they can head back to hotel from shop (which is pretty much along the way).

Car seems fine when I first start it, but then doesn't want to idle once it warms up. The interior is getting fumes, too. Do I have an exhaust leak, too, from the backfire? It's going to have to go back.

Both viewings simply packed. Evening includes a memorial service by the LAFRA, in which mom was very active. Dad is a past national president of the FRA, and mom was national chaplain of LAFRA. They've traveled to funeral services for deceased members throughout the country, and now they are receiving as they have given. The service is very emotional, which annoys dad a bit, I think; he'd prefer they'd maintain more decorum, as is their norm. But they've really loved and treasured mom, and it shows.

Oldest grandson comes along for evening viewing. He's not feeling nauseous any more, and has eaten. They leave soon after the LAFRA service. But daughter calls again before we leave, asks to talk with wife's cousin, who's a doctor. Oldest grandson experience pain on right side. No fever, though, but could still be appendicitis. A couple of movement tests ultimately lead to an ER trip, where we meet them when we leave the house around 11. Doc there agrees appendicitis is likely. Grandson is terrified before getting stuck for blood tests, IV; he's seen mom go through this stuff for years, and she has notoriously bad veins, but afterwards he agrees it wasn't so bad. I baby the car back to sister-in-law's house, by which point the blood work has confirmed a highly elevated WBC count. Next up is a CT scan, with the expectation that he'll need an appendectomy in the morning.

I'm feeling pretty stressed out about the car situation, too. I don't know whether the fumes and the poor running are both due to the air filter cover, or if I'll need a separate trip to an exhaust place. If so, at least I know a good one in town.

There's been too little time for individual prayer these last few days, and I'm feeling stressed. Help me to trust in you, Lord.

More fun with car logistics

"Hi Curly. Kill anyone today?"
"The day ain't over yet."

About 11 p.m. the cell phone rings again. Oldest grandson is sick. Can we get some medicine and air freshener for them? Sure; there's a 24-hour Wal-Mart along the way. Then back to sister-in-law's place and to bed. I'm usually in bed by 11, latest. This trip it has been midnight or later nightly. At least we don't have to be up early.

Car problems

What ever possessed me to presume I could get a bike ride in today??? Well, there definitely won't be any more chances after this. I could've really used the stress reduction, too, though the worst of the stress didn't arise until after I'd've been back.

I didn't realize I'd have to be in charge of the kids this afternoon, but I should've known mrs tg would need to go help choose flowers. I didn't mind, except for missing my ride; this is definitely a time when my own wishes take a back seat to my wife's needs. The grandkids were pretty good, except the almost 8-year-old grandson acts more like he's 4 when he doesn't get his way. But it was still nice to hang out with them for a while.

Then, about 4:30, as I was in the middle of cooking (bean soup, with the leftover ham bone from the weekend) my cell phone rang. It was oldest daughter, telling my car had stalled and wouldn't start. We'd swapped when we picked up the kids. We thought they were still asleep, and were just getting ready to call them. Turns out they'd decided to go have a hot dog at this place they'd heard about on a cable food show. In Baltimore. On one of the busiest streets in the city. During rush hour. In my car. While we're babysitting their kids so they can sleep! Without so much as a "would you mind if we . . . ," which we would have, under the combined circumstances, even if my car didn't break down.

So middle daughter grabs her GPS-equipped cell phone. They were a few blocks from I895, but there was a traffic alert, so we took the Key Bridge (as in Francis Scott Key) instead and let the GPS reroute us. I've gotta get me one of those! Before we arrived, they told me they'd paid someone $20 to drag them out of the street into an adjacent drug store parking lot - a good decision, though I imagine he'd've done it for $10. It was still on his bed when I arrived, though as fast as I could say AAA he started to drop it for me. I tried to start it, having to hook up the jumper cables first, seeing as the battery had died from the repeated start attempts. It would rev briefly, then stall. On the third try, it backfired. Folks were probably ducking all over Highlandtown (cheap shot - I don't think that's such a bad neighborhood). I'm guessing that maybe the timing belt has gone out on it. I think they're supposed to be done around 100K miles, and I've got 109K now. At least Toyota motors don't blow up when the timing belt goes.

I really wanted the car closer to where we were staying, so AAA recommended a shop nearer our end of town. The guy driving the AAA tow truck agreed to follow the van while I rode in the wrecker, to the AAA recommended shop. Except apparently the GPS didn't give them enough notice of an exit, and the tow truck wouldn't have been allowed on the alternate route. We got there okay, though, only to find out the shop at that address is no longer the one AAA has listed. Still, I went ahead and left it there.

Finally getting back to dad's house, where everyone was already eating the meal I'd started preparing, we put our foot down when daughter and son-in-law tried to insist on using our van. They then tried to rent a car, not wanting to be dependent on us for transportation, but finding out that would cost more than they were willing to pay, finally had us drive them back to their hotel. We stopped at a grocery so they could get some snack supplies first, then dropped them off. The grandkids and I played "I Spy" while their parents shopped. Even the 5-year-old did pretty well with it, and the time passed quickly until mom and dad returned and we drove the few blocks to the hotel.

She comes by it honestly

What a stubborn daughter we've raised.

Now they're going to leave tonight and drive through the night. It sounds as if they'll be arriving in the wee hours. They're hoping the kids will sleep in the car that way. That might not be such a bad plan, but for some reason they kept them out of school today anyway. What are they thinking? At least they understand they'll be responsible for the extra night at the hotel room. We just know the kids will be up tomorrow before the adults have gotten enough sleep. Oh well. We'll go pick them up and give them some extra time with great-grandpa and whatever of the rest of the family has gotten here by then.

So many arrangements to deal with. I thought dad and mom had pre-arranged a lot of this, but I guess they'd only talked about it, and then mom got too sick and weak to do anything about it. It's hard to believe she's gone. They've been such a steady part of our lives for the 33 years I've known mrs tg; of course, her mother's death is much harder for her, even given all that we believe. Dad seems to be holding up pretty well. Of course, he'll be in "gracious host" mode through next Monday, when Uncle Bill (mom's brother) and Aunt Ruth leave. Meanwhile cousin Tim and his wife Kathie are also at the house, where we're spending a lot of time, too. Fortunately Tim and I are handy around the kitchen, so dad doesn't have to worry about cooking!

Family logistics

We should have known. Our oldest wants to drop everything, take the kids out of school, and drive here right now. The funeral is probably not until Thursday, though we won't know that for certain until tomorrow. Fortunately we can exercise a little control over the situation: we're probably paying for their hotel room, and if they want it a day early it's going to be at their own expense. Plus, they need to use our van, but we figured out before we left last week that we have a slow leak in one tire. I've arranged for a friend to take it tomorrow to have it looked at after he gets off of work. So they'll at least have to wait for that to be squared away.

At least we have someplace for our dog to stay. Col. Potter will hang out with his sister again, as he did when we were on vacation last summer. There's another reason they'll have to wait to leave: Potter won't be picked up until after work tomorrow.

At peace

Talk about a week of opposite extremes.

Immediately after Emma's birth on Wednesday afternoon, mrs tg and I hit the road to MD to spend Thanksgiving with her family. We'd been pretty well planning on that even before her mom entered the hospital last Saturday, and were trying to figure out our logistics with our daughter's labor scheduled to be induced starting Wednesday morning. We stayed long enough to see Emma and take a couple pictures, but haven't held her yet, as they were trying to get her temperature up and so had her wrapped up and bundling against her momma.

Back here, mrs tg's mom wasn't doing so well. Weakened by the chemo, she apparently picked up an infection that she wasn't doing well fighting off. When we arrived she was pretty thoroughly sedated, to keep her comfortable with the ventilator tube in place. But she had increasing difficulty with her blood pressure and heart rate, and went home to the Lord yesterday afternoon.

She'd been in such pain, and had been so weak, but she's free from all that now. Rejoice in the Lord's love, Mom.

New granddaughter!

Emma Faith, born 11/26/2008, 12:41 pm EST, 7 lb 4 oz, 20"

Editing

Part of my job involves editing others' writing.

AarrrrrrrrrrRRRRggghhh!!!

I'm okay now. Breathing deeply, and thanking God that I still have a job I really do mostly enjoy.

Then, Monday

Well, Sunday night the cold I'd been fighting off for several days hit with one of those keep-you-up-all-night post-nasal drips, and by Monday morning I was hoarse. It was a good thing I didn't have to sing anymore!

But far worse was the phone call I got at lunchtime. As I started in on my sandwich, my cell phone rang. I looked down and recognized my cousin's phone number. He calls me occasionally so we can touch base, but I'd just seen him a week before, when mrs tg and I were in MD. So I was pretty sure this couldn't be good news.

I had no idea.

He was calling to tell me that his sister's husband had died unexpectedly. I'd only met the guy once, but I know how happy my cousin had become with him over the past few years. What a blessing he was for her.

Here are links to a couple articles in the Bend Bulletin, for which he wrote. I don't know how long they'll remain accessible.

I hardly knew the guy, and I still miss him.

For starters, Sunday

It was fabulous. The music went great. Matthew Kelly's talk was excellent, the best I've ever heard from him. Yeah, there was some familiar material, but packaged in a way that was really a coherent discussion of his conversion story, and why it is so vitally important that we be transformed, and how we can start participating with God in that process in our lives. I've heard there may have been as many as 1600 people there; the main sanctuary held 1000, and they had a sizable overflow room set up with an audio system and video projector. It was an exciting night to be a part of.

So much to write about . . .

. . . and there's no way to cover it all together. Hopefully I'll get time for a couple of posts . . .

Not "happiness." Joy!

Inspired by the theme of our upcoming Matthew Kelly event

There are (at least) a couple different ways we try to live as Christians.

The first, which many people seem to take, is to treat Christianity as a set of behavioral standards to which we strive, to varying degrees and mixed (at best) success. Its goal is to help us to "be good," whatever that means. Some folks focus on the Ten Commandments, others on the Beatitudes. Some latch onto passages from St. Paul, such as Philippians 4, 8 or Galatians 5, 22, and try to live by them. Some of my fellow Catholics apply the church's teaching in the same way, as a set of restrictive rules. Others reject any or all of these as a straitjacket intended to keep us in line, to stifle our uniqueness, our individuality and, ultimately, our happiness.

Now, it isn't that I'm denigrating any of these wonderful and important sources, or putting down those who strive to live them. They have a vital place in our lives. It's just that too many Christians act as if the purpose of Christ's Incarnation was to show us how we can become worthy of salvation by our right living. This is the approach that my in-laws' neighbor has apparently followed, and I've heard very good and well-meaning people state that the purpose of Jesus' life was to teach us to live. But as wonderful as the Beatitudes and the fruit of the Holy Spirit are, if they're just a new, more stringent standard for life, then Christ is not a savior, he's merely a social reformer. And the people I know who focus primarily on living up to such a standard are rarely joyful.

We didn't then and don't now need a new standard, nor even an example, that's impossible for us to meet. What we needed then as now, and have, is a Savior, to deliver us from the dominion of the darkness of sin. Though we're sinners, Jesus, who was not a sinner, laid down his life in place of ours, and has poured out the Holy Spirit upon us, to deliver us into his kingdom of light. So the purpose of Christianity isn't to polish us up to a point at which we no longer need a savior; it is that we may accept (and respond to) God's grace, which transforms us into the sons and daughters God envisions us to be. This is what fills us with joy!

It isn't that we must try to do for ourselves what Christ has done for us. It isn't that I'm good so that I may get to heaven. It is rather that I know what Christ has done for me, and I want to respond to it at every opportunity! I trust God enough to believe that God's revealed plan for my life is immeasurably superior to what I can figure out on my own, and so I strive to live according to that plan, by the help of the Holy Spirit who dwells within me. (And no, I'm not saying I'm there yet!)

The salvation that Christ has won for us is a cause for joy that is deeper than our circumstances. So it isn't that I'm not touched with sadness by what mrs tg's mom is going through right now; or for my fellow Jubilean whose father suffered a massive stroke; or over the other Jubilean, a vibrant young mom, newly diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor (latter two situations were first shared at Monday's otherwise excellent rehearsal). We'd be insensitive to pretend the world is all blue sky and sunshine when such storms are blowing. We don't neglect praying for their healing, both temporally and eternally, and reaching out to them, because of some pie-in-the-sky notion that all will be well, God will provide for their every need and those of their loved ones. And yet our sadness, our concern, our reaching out to them are undergirt by the confident joy of knowing that, indeed, somehow, God will provide for their needs, not only in this world but - as ultimately matters most - for all eternity.

Working and playing

'Twas a good trip to MD. While mrs tg's mom was probably about the same - though both eating and getting around a little bit better - as when we last saw her, that was a vast improvement over the interim. Tumors seem to be shrinking in response to treatment. I imagine she'll show improved energy this week as her body gets a break from chemo.

It was really good for us to be there. Her dad got a break from cooking, which should carry forward somewhat as we managed to a) leave some leftovers, b) let him freeze a casserole that someone brought while we were there, and c) make some stew (from homemade stock) that we put up in the freezer for them, as well. With other kitchen-capable family coming in for a few days starting tomorrow, and if he manages his stored resources by mixing them in with freshly cooked meals on alternate days, he may end up with several weeks of not having to plan and cook nightly.

Also got some yard work in. Not nearly all the leaves have fallen yet, but at least there will be 20 fewer bags of them for whoever deals with the rest. Was happy to be able help out a little on the finishing touches to the wheelchair ramp, and we got a little light housekeeping addressed, too.

Arrived home on Monday for a final rehearsal before our gig this coming Sunday. The rehearsal itself was great fun mixed with very challenging news; more on that in a separate post.

Great weekend

Twenty years ago my wife and I made a Marriage Encounter (ME) weekend. It was a real blessing for us, and temporarily rekindled the fervor of our relationship. We (and particularly, I) had deeper issues to deal with, though, so its medium-term benefits were not all they could have been. But in the last year or so we've reconnected with the ME community, and it's been really good for us. Over the past decade we've seen a real renaissance in our marriage, and ME really helps us to keep the fire of our love stoked, to keep making it a priority.

Yesterday we attended our first Day of Romance, a gathering of about 35 ME couples reasonably close to Cincinnati. That isn't necessarily very many couples for so large an area, but then again, it was a day long event, and a lot of couples - especially those with younger children - have trouble getting away for such. Anyway, there was one point in the day at which it would have been easy for mrs tg and I to get derailed, as an old obstacle popped up. But we were each able to stay in the moment and reaffirm each other, rather than either of us getting frustrated and giving up. It actually ended up contributing to a very uplifting day for us as a couple.

Last night we had a get together with my riding buddies and other friends and their wives for a bonfire and cookout. The weather was great, the fellowship greater. Good thing the calendar gave us an extra hour last night!

Today was another gorgeous day, so after mass, when mrs tg was at our youngest daughter's baby shower (she's due again in a month) I was able to get out for a short bike ride, about 20 miles or so. Then mrs tg and I enjoyed a nice evening together.

Not that the weekend was all roses. We have an ongoing family issue related to today's shower that has us both really frustrated. I hate to see the people I love not appreciate the treasures in their lives, especially when it reaches a point of putting them at risk. It's funny how our feelings can be so complex, how I can be mostly really pleased and satisfied with my life and simultaneously really sad and concerned about specific circumstances in it.

Heading to MD mid-week through the weekend, to spend time with mrs tg's mom and dad, maybe cook some meals and do some chores around the house, try to help out in whatever way we can as her mom presses on with her chemo. Will also have a chance to get together with other family and friends while there. We're really looking forward to the trip.

(Tom, how was your trip?)

No way this team should be ranked

Oh no!!

The Terps have somehow convinced folks to vote them into both polls. Yeah, they've beaten 3 ranked teams this year, and the loss to Virginia is looking better (still, 31-0?!) with each Cavaliers' win. But they needed a last-second field goal to secure the home win against the Wolfpack on Saturday, and with VT (a week from Thursday, in Blacksburg), UNC, FSU, and BC (also away) left, could easily end up 6-6!

(I'm also avoiding black cats and ladders, given the team's - and conference's - recent history of folding in the face of prosperity . . . )

More flexibility

With an unusual (for us) ministry opportunity coming up in November, the group I've been singing with is augmenting our usual reflective, piano-only accompaniment with a fuller band. A couple of us will switch off on guitar, playing together on one or two pieces, and we'll have a drummer and another percussionist - and we'll toss in additional percussion as appropriate - as well as a bassist. We already had everyone lined up except the bass player. We have this new parishioner we haven't been able to work in much because we already have someone playing bass. His wife has been playing flute for us. I'd had him join us at an alternate Mass once, and knew he'd be perfect for this group. It looked like an ideal chance to get him plugged in with a really enthusiastic bunch of musicians. So last Monday he came to rehearse with us and meet the group, and just as I thought, we meshed really well. He was pretty excited to be working with us, too.

Well, apparently last Tuesday or Wednesday he was notified that he'd be deploying to Iraq for six months. Starting yesterday. His coworker who was supposed to go couldn't, and our bassist was the guy's last-minute replacement. I mean, what's up with that? The general couldn't find anybody besides our bassist to send?

Obviously I'm being a bit tongue-in-cheek. Fortunately, the assignment should be fairly low-risk, but it still makes for a challenging time for him and his family. I told him we'd keep him and his colleagues in our prayers, and to make sure his wife lets us know if they need anything. If nothing else, I'm hoping maybe mrs. tg can watch the kids for his wife occasionally so she can get out for a sanity break.

As for our concert, we've also stumbled upon a great backup plan. A very busy bassist we've previously worked with is - to our surprise - available that night. He'll also be able to switch off onto tenor sax on a piece that calls for it instead of bass . . .

An interesting exchange

While we were in MD for my uncle's services, we also got to spend some time with mrs. tg's folks. Her mom is battling cancer, and it was good for us to be with her. On Sunday, we went to Mass with her dad. Most weeks they pick up an older neighbor so that she can attend Mass, too, and he was filling her in on how mom is doing.

This led to a really fascinating discussion when she observed, "I just don't understand why good people have to suffer."

Dad had already reflected on the Gospel reading, in which Jesus admonished the Pharisees that prostitutes and tax collectors were entering the kingdom of God ahead of them. It was in this context that he replied with a wry, matter-of-fact chuckle, "Well, it's so bad people can go to heaven." I immediately understood he was referring to a couple of things at once: Jesus, the only perfectly good person, willingly offered himself up and suffered unspeakably for our salvation; but also, God seems to work even through our temporal suffering to help draw those around us into eternal joy. But his response really took her aback.

"Oh," she responded, perplexed, "I don't think bad people go to heaven! If that's true, what's the point in trying to live right?" She then proceeded along a tangent that isn't pertinent here.

Sitting in the back seat, I gave my wife's hand a squeeze, knowing that my only hope is that he's right and she's wrong! Fortunately, that matches what I believe, and "the point" is that "living right" is my response to the love which God has poured out in my life, which I can never deserve. Throughout Christian history, this is what we have referred to as "grace." It is also how I make myself available as a vessel through which God might pour that same love into the lives of those around me.

It was a really neat conversation to be in on.

Being flexible

Sometimes we have to be careful not to invest too much faith in our plans. (Actually, I suppose "plans" could be replaced with pretty much anything, aside from things like "God," or "Savior".) When we can avoid that, we can end up receiving unexpected blessings.

For a month or so, mrs. tg and I had planned to host our marriage encounter group last Saturday evening. In a real leap of faith (there's that word again) for her, we'd also agreed to make a short presentation to the other couples - I simply can't convey how out of character it was for her to agree to this. So when we went to MD for Unc's services, we took along the book The Seven Levels of Intimacy, by Matthew Kelly, as our planned resource for this presentation. Rather than have her wade through the whole thing, which I'd already read (twice), I had her focus on a few sections that I thought would lend themselves well to the short time we'd have available to us - about ten minutes. Though the book's main points couldn't really be covered in less than an hour, there were a few gems that I thought might fit well together for a shorter presentation.

Anyway, mrs. tg read through the suggested pages before bed one night in MD, but we didn't have a chance to discuss it at that point. A couple days after we were back home she went through them again, making notes on things that she thought were worth sharing. It happened that we agreed completely on what we should work into our talk, and over the next couple days we were able to get things pretty well ready. The only real down side was that, while we were glad to be getting together with this group of friends, we were going to miss a parish event that was slated for the same evening.

By Friday it was looking as if only two other couples from the group would be available. Sometimes, though, the smaller meetings are nicest, a chance to really get to know one another better. But when we got back to the house late Saturday afternoon after some shopping, we had a message from one of them: the wife was sick and they wouldn't be able to make it. While listening to the message, the other couple called. A family situation had come up that required their immediate attention.

In truth, we were pretty excited about our presentation, and I'd been a little disappointed to share it with only a few people, especially for mrs. tg's sake. Now we have it tucked away for future use, hopefully with more of the group available. And since we weren't wrapped up in disappointment over our plans falling through, we realized we were suddenly free to participate in the tri-parish Eucharistic procession through the community (streets closed off, drummer providing cadence; such processions are still a key part of the Catholic experience in many parts of the world) and Benediction that evening. This turned out to be a really neat event, with dinner beforehand and dessert after and lots of nice fellowship. Oh, and our associate pastor shared his wonderful first experience of donating blood in his native India; the virtually destitute family of the young (9-year-old) recipient was so grateful they ultimately received Christ and converted!

Warming the heart

Wow. What a whirlwind.

I can't remember the last time we spent consecutive weekends in MD. I also don't know if we've ever logged 2000 driving miles in 8 days. But it was all well worth it. My mom's only brother deserved all that and more.

Unc had asked to be cremated, so we had a viewing and brief memorial service a week ago Friday (Sept 26) and an interment this past Friday. We'd originally planned only to go the first weekend, but pretty much as soon as we arrived found out that the family gathering was really planned around the interment. 'Twixt the two, we saw friends and family that I hadn't seen in decades, including a few I didn't even remember. I heard some stories about my mom's younger days, and of course a lot about Unc. His closest friend came up from Florida and regaled us with story after story about their experiences together.

The best part was probably just the incredible time with the family. Even when we've been home in recent years, there have been too few occasions on which everyone was able to be together. And I haven't been in on that amount of focused time together since we were kids. We were still missing one estranged cousin, but everyone else just really enjoyed being with each other again, with "friends and families and mountains of food" sharing "stories and memories and tales all around." (BTW, if you want to hear one of the most poignant albums I've ever heard, check out Bob Bennett's Songs from Bright Avenue; it's gotta be 20 years old now, but still as excellent as the first time I heard it. It's amazing how the greatest art and music grow out of our darkest days.) Maybe there'll be time to share a story or two here later . . .

To top things off, I was also reunited with two old friends and bandmates who I hadn't seen in about 20 and 25 years, respectively. We knew that Chris, the drummer, had a gig on Friday night within a few blocks of where we were staying, so we decided to drop in on him unannounced. We sat there for about three songs as I nodded and harmonized with the music, my smile growing wider with each number. I could tell he hadn't place me yet, smiling politely back at the patron who was so into the music. I waited until he was making eye contact after finishing a piece, then pointed at him and smiled. I thought his jaw was going to hit one of his tom pads, and he let out with a stunned "Oh. My. God," then pointed us out to his wife, who was there along with their daughter. Apparently we were the second ones to surprise him that night, as his sister had unexpectedly traveled over from the Eastern Shore.

During the first break he came over and we hugged, spending a few minutes getting caught up. He told me about my other friend, who was playing bass in a band at a gig about 10 miles away. Chris described where he thought it was, then verified it on his cell phone. So in the middle of the next set we headed out to find the place, near my stepfather's old neighborhood, passing the poorly marked bar twice before deciding that must be it. Ed recognized me as soon as we walked in the door - a fact he promised to rub Chris' nose into when he gets the chance. In fairness, the second place was better lit. On break we got to meet his wife and catch up with him a bit, too.

All in all, it was an incredible day of reunions.

Unc

My mom and her older sister always called him what their parents called him: Junior. Seeing as he was named after his father, that made sense. My friends would inevitably chuckle the first time they heard me speak of my "Uncle Junior." And mom laughed about the way her "baby brother" now dwarfed her.

A lifelong bachelor, as far as I know he always lived with his parents. They were somewhat older when they'd started having children, and since he was the youngest of their three, my memories are of a devoted son taking care of elderly parents who had quite a few health issues, between Grandmom's weight and diabetes, and Granddad's hearing loss (related to WWI naval service) and frequent "spells." He'd usually drive them to our frequent family get-togethers. Thanksgiving was always at my aunt's family's big house, since it was easier for everyone to go there than for them to pack up my eight cousins and have the ten of us kids falling all over each other elsewhere. The Christmas routine was always the same: Grandmom, Granddad, and Unc (though we didn't really abbreviate his title until we were grown) always went to my aunt's house on Christmas Eve, came to ours on Christmas Day. A few days later the whole crew would be together for my sister's birthday, just as we'd been at a cousin's birthday a couple weeks before. With ten of us nephews and nieces, birthday parties were frequent.

Unc was my Confirmation sponsor. I never met my godparents, and I had so much respect for him that I didn't really consider having anyone else sponsor me. He was disappointed that the bishop didn't symbolically slap us on the cheek anymore by then, as had formerly been part of the ceremony. (It seems we've lost the idea of purposeful self-sacrifice and hardship, seeing the latter as something to be avoided in all contexts.)

I lost touch with them all for a while after getting married (a small ceremony, somehow without room for my cousins; how could I have let that happen?) and joining the service. Grandmom had died before I enlisted, and Granddad a few years after. While I was home for the funeral, Mom told me she and my stepfather were moving to Georgia, and subsequent visits to Maryland became centered on my wife's family. How easily I lost sight of the relationships that were so important to me growing up. I eventually realized my folly. Having finally dealt with some things I needed to from my childhood, I strove to recover the relationships I'd thrown out with the bath water. With Aunt Helen divorced (why did both sisters marry alcoholics?), she and Unc were by then sharing the same house at which we'd visited their parents on Sundays growing up for as far back as I can remember. On every trip home we began to make it a point to go by there for a while. It never really seemed like a long enough visit when the girls or the mrs. - or later, the grandkids - would start feeling restless already, and it would be time to leave behind again the sofa on which I'd slept over (eventually a new sofa in the same place), the lawn I'd mowed, the garden I'd weeded, the aunt and uncle I loved.

When my mom passed away, shortly after 9/11, her brother and sister took a train to GA for the funeral; there was just no way Helen was getting on a plane that soon after. You could amass a fortune betting on Amtrak to be late; I went to pick them up at the train station, anxiously waited for them to arrive, and drove them to the funeral home knowing that everyone was waiting for us so they could start the service. Afterward we had a nice lunch together at Mom's favorite joint, an Irish pub on the grounds of a winery a few miles from the house. My aunt helped us go through Mom's clothes so my stepfather wouldn't have to deal with that, and we headed for our respective homes in the next day or two. My aunt says that it was on the train back home that Unc first noticed blood in his stool.

I wonder if things might've been different for him if he'd been able to have the cancer surgery right away rather than urgently needing a multiple bypass first to survive it, or if he hadn't been the first family member to develop colorectal cancer, or if he'd started getting colonoscopies a few years before, as we now know we should. But his battle was valiant and he remained dignified and fun-loving throughout, getting to Atlantic City one last time this past summer, a couple years after one of his best gambling buddies had died. Unc had hated not being there for his funeral; John had died unexpectedly during one of Unc's worst hospitalizations.

I can't help but think I may have shirked my responsibility to him by not sharing the Lord's love more openly. St. Francis said, "Share the Gospel; when necessary, use words," and with some folks the words really are necessary. Yeah, I may have made a special trip or two home specifically to visit with him. In the hospital, we'd agreed that he'd tell me when he was ready for me to leave - which he expected to be after fifteen or twenty minutes - or I'd let him know when I was ready to go; somehow a couple hours flew by before either of us realized it. Or last November, for one last Thanksgiving; Unc may not have been cooking from scratch anymore, but having so many of us celebrating this holiday with him again was still a real treasure for all of us. At the party this summer, we knew we were probably together with him for the last time. As I tried to tell him how closely I was holding him in prayer, he never quite seemed to connect with just what I was trying to convey: how much the Lord loves him, how He longs be our strength and comfort in such challenging times.

Still, I hope Unc saw beyond my presence to the One who was leading me, each time, to be there. I hope he, too, felt the embrace of the One whose perfect Peace, beyond understanding, guards my heart and mind especially at such times as these, saying goodbye to one of the few really respectable men in this broken boy's life.

I pray the angels have escorted him home to a joyful reunion with his parents, sister, brothers-in-law, cousins, and dear friends who have preceded him, in jubilant rejoicing before the throne of glory of our loving God.

A favorite parable

I haven't done one of these posts in a while, but I've always loved the Gospel reading for this coming Sunday.

When Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like . . . ," we know we'll learn a lot by paying attention to how the kingdom is similar to the parable. In this case, while the master (Lord) calls all the laborers, those who labor all day (their whole lives) receive no greater reward than those who enter the vineyard at the very end. Those exhausted laborers are clearly put out by their perceived unjust treatment at the hands of the landowner, and we might agree: something just doesn't seem right.

Some context: I'm no Scripture scholar, but I'd bet that around the time St. Matthew set down his Gospel, the idea of Jesus' imminent return was still pretty common. There were probably many Christians who'd followed the Way for decades - even their whole lives - while others were just entering the community. Perhaps there was quite a bit of jealously among some of the oldsters that these Johnnies-come-lately would receive the same reward. If so, this teaching of Jesus would have been particularly timely for the Church of that day.

Here's what now strikes me reading this parable: when Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like . . . ," we can also find great insight by focusing on how the kingdom isn't like to the parable. In this case, the dissimilarities are huge.

Consider the wage. In the parable, each laborer receives a denarius, which was a day's wage for a laborer. It certainly wasn't much money, though considered fair, and perhaps easily taken for granted. By contrast, the reward which Christ has purchased for us is to exchange the death we deserve for eternal, abundant life. God gives us His very, infinite Self. What laborer could rightly claim to deserve this, let alone expect more?

It's as if the Lord is saying, "Even if all we were talking about were a pittance, you'd have no room for complaining that I'm generous to others. In truth, my generosity to you is already infinite, and no amount of my sharing it with others could ever diminish it! Your labor ought not be an attempt to earn what is fair, because no amount of toil could wipe away your sin, let alone earn what I give you! Rather, let your works be your loving response to the priceless gift of my love. Instead of being jealous, rejoice that others receive my grace as well!"

Could it be that we, today, often take the Lord's generosity to us for granted, too? I know I'm sometimes tempted to. But I'm also painfully aware of how great my sinfulness has been, and that no amount of my labor could ever wipe it clean.

Thank you, Lord, for your great mercy. May your mercy abound in the lives of others, and may I never grumble against you.

Looking beyond the frustration

Okay, with a challenging century planned on Saturday, weather permitting, followed by a 55-mile return trip on Sunday, I thought I should get in a fairly casual 20-some miler today. My group was riding at 5:30, and I figured I'd go out with them, and head back on my own from our regular first stop.

I could see that plan start to fall apart when oldest called me shortly before lunch, asking where her mom was. She was having a lot of pain from her chronic illness, needed to go to the ER, and wanted to ask her mom to pick up the kids. I knew mom was going to be incommunicado until lunch time, but would probably be available. I also knew that meant the possibility of 6 grandkids at the house after work instead of the usual two, and that might mean a rearrangement of my plans.

I wasn't prepared for the phone to ring again at 4:15. Mrs. tg had all six grandkids and one grown daughter with her, and a van with a dead battery. Ugh. So I go get her jump started and safely home, but it's clear I'm going to have to take the older grandkids home when mom's ready. There goes the group ride. By the time I get back to the house it's nearly sunset, but I still have to get a ride in today. Tomorrow evening is too close to Saturday.

So instead of the easy ride I had planned, I'm now pushing for all I'm worth trying to get just a dozen miles in before it gets completely dark. And as I'm riding out, I'm growing more and more frustrated over how I'm pushing much harder than I wanted to, and resenting how things have worked out.

Then I started to realize how lucky I really am. I had a perfectly functional second vehicle to go help out my wife with. I'm healthy, not having to deal with all the issues my daughter has to face all the time, and able to ride so vigorously in response to my frustration. I was able to spend unexpected time with my grandkids. It remains to be seen whether my planned ride this weekend, about which I'm pretty excited, will come to fruition. In short, I really needed to shift my focus such that I wasn't so consumed by the fact that my plans were short-circuited and remember how many blessings I have.

I'm amazed at how a good workout can help redirect my energy so that I can see things more clearly.

Grandkids are great!

Another fabulous weekend. Capped off with an impromptu cookout tonight with our oldest and her 4. What a fine time. A short while later, our youngest called. Her 3-year-old daughter excitedly told us that she "caught two fishies. One little one, and one big one!" Saturday evening she was showing us how she casts. Too cute!

Another fine ride this weekend, too. Nothing formal, but a metric century (a little over; a metric is 100km, or 62 miles, versus a century of 100 miles) on Sunday that was more challenging than the century the previous week. I was riding with the racers on Sunday, and while I may have been behind them in spots, I mostly hung pretty well. I did tail off toward the end, mostly due to not eating enough, I think. Now, if the weather isn't too hateful next weekend, I may get in the OKHT yet . . .

A cherished memory

(Hard to believe it could have been this long ago, but) In January of 2000, a coworker and I went to a CRM conference in Scottsdale, AZ. Noticing that there'd be a total lunar eclipse one evening, we decided to drive out to one of the area national monuments - it may have been Ironwood Forest; I seem to recall thinking how "unforesty" it was - to view the eclipse outside of the glow of the city. It was early enough in the evening that it wasn't too late to call my wife, two hours ahead of us - I think I used my coworker's phone, as mine didn't get a signal - to implore her to go outside and have a look, too. That way, even though we were 1800 miles apart, we could share the same experience. The thing is, the high in Scottsdale had been near 70°F that day, but there was snow on the ground back home, with a 0°F low forecast for that night. As you might imagine, mrs. tg respectfully but firmly declined my suggestion of remote moon-gazing! It was a very neat experience anyway, and has remained a treasured memory.

Even more so today. This morning, my coworker died of cancer. She's been battling against it for a couple years. She's free now . . .

Pray for us you've left behind, Melissa.

Great weekend, if a bit blurry

No, not blurry due to being obscured by alcohol. It was just jam-packed.

Saturday our marriage encounter group went up to a local lake where one of the couples has a house. Didn't get out on the boat much, as it was having technical difficulties, but still, we had a really wonderful time together.

Yesterday was the Wright Wride. I rode the century option, partly as a training ride for the Old Kentucky Home Tour in two weeks. KY will be my fifth state in which to ride a century. I was really hoping to knock out two more states this season, but that just hasn't panned out. We'll see how the fall shakes out; maybe I'll be able to get Illinois in, as well. Anyway, I love cycling around here. We ran into a guy who had water bottles from Maryland (from the city that hosts the MD century I rode three years ago), where we're both originally from. It prompted some great conversation. He recently moved here from NJ, and was amazed at how we could ride on roads early Sunday morning without seeing any traffic. He said in NJ he always felt lucky to get home alive! Anyway, it got pretty hot by end of the ride, but still and all, another really fabulous day, to make for a super weekend!

Capped it off with a really nice mass yesterday evening (the most important question of our lives: "Who do you say that I am?"), supper with our oldest grandson (I can't believe the boy is 11½ already!), then a visit with the rest of his family when we dropped him off at home.

(Contented sigh . . . )

The remains of the vacation

Saturday morning, mrs tg got together with a couple friends from high school with whom she has recently reconnected. I was planning on a lazy morning to myself, until we took breakfast on the back porch. It was simply too gorgeous to sit around in the house, so I got my bike and gear out of the van before she left. It was a short ride to the bike path, and I headed north, thinking I might drop in on her parents, who live within a few blocks of the path. But I'd promised to be home before she was, as I had the house key, and checking the time as I got into Glen Burnie, I figured I should head back. I needn't have, as it turned out; I was there an hour and a half before her. But that gave me plenty of time to cool down and shower, and at least I was there to help sister-in-law and her husband unpack the car when they arrived back from the beach.

The wife and I then headed out for a get-together with my aunt, uncle, cousins, and family friends. It was so nice to be able to spend time with them; usually we only get to see a couple of them each trip. Though the few hours we had together were too short, they were full of wonderful reminiscences. Then a stop by mrs tg's folks' place for a short visit and quick swim, and supper back at the sister-in-law's house. (Now, just out of curiosity, should the plural possessive of that be "sisters-in-law's," as in "we'd had dinner at both sisters-in-law's condos"? Or am I wrong about the singular possessive, too?) Then the two sisters went out to a movie while we husbands finished watching the ball game (O's win!) and played some backgammon.

Sunday brought an early rise to finish getting the car packed - not too much of a chore because we packed so well before leaving the ocean, so we hadn't had to unload much for these last two nights, plus I'd gotten the bike loaded back in the night before. Then we went to mass in Glen Burnie and had breakfast with mrs tg's parents before hitting the road to return home. I was refreshed by the vacation, but absolutely not ready to come back; I suppose that means we planned things just right, and managed not to overdo or overstay. It was a beautiful day for driving, with a nice mixture of clouds and sun, and we were amazed at how temperate things were for mid-August. Arriving home, we quickly unloaded the van and went to pick up our dog, who sure seemed glad to see us again!

(btw, my mother-in-law's surgery seems to have gone very well. Thanks, God!)

Beachin'

We took our bikes with us, as I was determined to get in at least two rides while we were in MD. So on Wednesday morning I arose fairly early, ate and took my wife's stuff down to the beach, snapping a few pictures while there. Then I got my gear on and headed my bike north to Rehoboth Beach. Just a few miles short of the 50-miler I'd planned, it was a nice ride on a beautiful day, with a pleasant assist from a bit of unexpected tailwind on the way back.

Not much beach time on Wednesday, but instead a brief afternoon nap, until hunger overwhelmed my tiredness - I always eat a lot after a long ride. Dinner was tacos at the other sister's place. The corn salsa and guac we'd planned on making during the trip fit right in. It was our 3rd batch of corn salsa in a week and a half, so we abandoned the leftovers, which one of our nephews gladly took along with him when he left to spend the rest of the weekend with friends. Some more Catch Phrase and some Wii Bowling (Wii bowls wobble . . . ) finished out the night.

Thursday was another early rise for a run along the beach. My first run of the year, actually, and just a mile-and-a-half along the beach, but that was plenty. The walk back seemed like forever! After getting back and cleaning up, mrs tg and I decided to ride our bikes to the boardwalk for a few hours, where I bought my first bucket hat. After walking around a while and having lunch (pizza by the slice, including a really great slice of mushroom pizza!) we headed back to the motel. She was pleasantly surprised by how well she did on the ride.

Thursday afternoon completed my mini-triathlon for the day as I did some more ocean swimming. Then pasta for supper, and the guys and kids went and putt-putted while the sisters went out by themselves for a while. Some more Wii after everyone was back, and another wonderful day was complete. It was our last night in OC (no, not the OC, but we called it that long before the show).

Friday morning I got up early to take in the sunrise and grab some more pics, then headed back to bed. Next time I've got to remember to do that before the day we have to check out of our room! Still, we hung out all day, giving me a chance to catch a nap on my sister-in-law's sofa while everyone was out. A nice dinner out with the mrs. and last bit of souvenir shopping rounded out the trip. We headed back to sister-in-law's house for the night. End of the beach, but not the end of the trip yet!

A (first) day at the beach

So, we made sure we were mostly packed for the trip on Saturday, as we knew Sunday's schedule was brutal. 7:00 am bike ride, 10:30 mass (9:45 arrival for musicians), brunch at a friend's house, followed by our granddaughter's b-day party, and finally, delivering the dog to the friends who are watching him for the week. (It turns out he probably could've stayed at home, but instead he hung out with his sister; they hadn't seen each other since she left the litter in January of '04; we got him a couple weeks later. The sister belongs to one coworker, both parents to another.) And Saturday I didn't end up getting the grass cut, so I had to squeeze that in between mass and brunch, on a pretty hot day. Despite all the activity scheduled on the day before we left, it ended up being a fairly stress-free and thoroughly enjoyable day for us.

Monday we got out a little later than we usually like, but the 5-year-old bypass around downtown Columbus kept that from being the traffic nightmare it would have been before. We arrived at my wife's parents' house in plenty of time to help with dinner. It was a pretty nice evening with them. The only minor glitch we had was realizing we should have packed a separate bag for this night, but we just fished what we needed out of our suitcases rather than dragging everything in, with a resolution to pack smarter before leaving Ocean City.

The drive across the Chesapeake and to the ocean on Tuesday was uneventful. A much later start than we planned, but the mrs. didn't sleep well the night before so made up for it a bit in the morning. What the hey - we were on vacation. If we got to the beach a little later, it might just mean we could check in when we got there. As usual, the wife was nervous going over the Bay Bridge, and then her bladder insisted on a short break in Salisbury, but as it turned out, our room was indeed ready for us to check into when we got there. And we were within a block of each sister's condo.

Even with the later-than-planned arrival, we had most of the afternoon at the beach. I swam in the ocean, eventually tiring and walking the few blocks back. It's been entirely too long since I last swam. In the evening we had a wonderful dinner prepared by our nephew's girlfriend. The highlight had to be the just-spicy-enough gazpacho with a cantaloupe base, roasted corn, and sweet red pepper. Then we pulled out Catch Phrase, the guys increasingly amused and the wives more frustrated over what became an embarrassingly one-sided scoresheet: 9 games to none, and it's been a really long time since I've been called a certain noun that starts with "f" and ends in "ers," but nobody wanted to quit until the individual games began growing one-sided at the end. The ladies would regain a measure of satisfaction the following night with a 2-2 draw.

As we settled into bed that night, the mrs. said that she'd already had a wonderful time, regardless of how the rest of the trip went. I pretty much had to agree.

Prelude to a vacation

Second day back from a really wonderful week away. First, some background.

We really hadn't planned on going to MD at all this summer, with gas prices so high and the money we wanted to spend on the house. But with my uncle sick and my wife needing a break, we went for an extended weekend over Memorial Day, which ended up being a really nice little getaway for us. Since then, my wife's mom has been diagnosed with cancer, which we now know started in her colon (over 50's, don't fear the colonoscopy; it's a life saver, and mom's doc apparently didn't believe in them) and has spread to her lung and liver. (Surgery tomorrow; prayers, please, if you're thus inclined.) Also, wife's full-time gig as a grandma grows increasingly frustrating (read on for an example), and she really needed a break. (Mind you, we're not complaining about the grandchildren. They're a joy to be around, and we're glad we're able to be with them.)

Too, my aunt had a family get-together planned for Saturday, which may be the last chance we have to all hang out with my uncle while he's still able to enjoy our company. Finally, two of my wife's sisters' families have established a tradition of going to Ocean City together for a week each summer. My wife has wanted to join them for several years, but it had never worked out for us; they had their condos reserved for last week.

All-in-all, it looked like a good time to head east again, spend a few days at the ocean and a couple more visiting family on "our" side of the Bay. Our conviction on this was strengthened when our daughter refused to make her own alternate child care arrangements, even though we'd provided phone numbers for willing helpers. If she'd been dealing with me rather than my wife, she'd have been out of luck, because I absolutely wouldn't have done it for her - where does she think she gets her stubbornness from, anyway? Our primary relationship with two of our daughters seems to have become free child care provider, and that's going to change.

Adding to our frustration was some conflict with our oldest, who was on the outs with the youngest over a petty issue, and evidently was not too pleased with us, either, at one point accusing us of playing favorites.

With our youngest granddaughter's 3rd birthday party scheduled for the 3rd (oldest's family not present; "I think I may have a heart attack and die from 'not surprise'!"), we decided to forego the preceeding weekend and just head out on Monday, spend the night in her folks' spare room - thereby giving us a chance to cook supper for them - before 4 days/3 nights at the ocean, with our last two nights at my wife's oldest sister's house, partly so we wouldn't burden her mom. Even though we're well able to take care of ourselves, if I were in her position my time to myself would be really important to me.

Missing treasures

I've found myself these last couple of days really spending quality time in the Lord's presence in the morning upon rising, rather than just a few fleeting and unfocused moments.

Yesterday was the memorial of St. Mary Magdalene, and the Office of Readings contained a wonderful reflection on her from St. Gregory the Great, pope. He pointed out Mary's great grief over Jesus, and how distraught she was that his body had been "taken away." In her longing for him, she alone remained behind where his body had been laid, and so became the first to encounter her risen Lord. She recognized him, but not until he called her by name.

So with us. When our hearts burn for everything except our Lord (or, when we allow other things to become lord over us), we do not encounter him so quickly, though he may be appearing to us in so many ways. And it is only when we he calls us by name that we recognize and respond to him.

Today is the memorial of St. Bridget of Sweden, and the Hours contained a wonderful prayer attributed to her based on Christ's passion, death, and resurrection. It mirrors how I've reflected on Jesus' wondrous sacrifice for us, and gives me something to reflect on as I prepare to work on revising Jubilee's Way of the Cross program for next Lent . . .

Sometimes it really is who you know

I'd deciced that the line down the front fork of my bike might be a crack, which isn't the sort of thing to take chances with. When carbon fiber fails, things can get ugly fast. I can't help thinking about what could've happened had it given out three weeks ago, hurtling downhill at 30+ mph, doubting whether I was gonna make it around the curve, my rear tire starting to slip out from under me as I tried to bring my speed back under control, a farm tractor trundling up the hill in the lane I was certain I was heading for. (Somehow I'd made it; I swear it must've been my guardian angel, because I thought for sure I'd lost it.)

At any rate, last Thursday we were enjoying a couple brews with our friend who'd wiped out earlier the day of my close call, breaking his scapula and collapsing a lung (ouch!). So I figure I'll probe the group's collective expertise concerning my fork. The young lady (she's 25 or so, the daughter of one of my friends) pipes up right away: it seems the cycling shop where she works has the exact fork I've been looking at online, which someone had bought and returned the previous week because it was the wrong size for their bike. It couldn't be sold as new, having already been cut to length; she was certain it'd fit my bike.

Sure enough, I was able to get a clearance price on the exact component I'd decided on, and with installation it cost less than the fork itself would have run me otherwise.

(Thanks, God!)

Never judge too quickly . . .

In this case, that maxim would apply to the weekend.

I took off Friday afternoon to rent a chain saw (28" bar!) to take care of the rest of the downed tree in my backyard. Well, I simply couldn't get the thing to start; it kept flooding, even after I returned to the rental place for additional instruction. This was basically the same saw I used to drop a tree in my front yard last year, but basically all I accomplished with my afternoon off was a nap, after which I was still ticked off. The whole situation just evoked a lot of emotional baggage from my youth. Finally I decided to pull on my cycling clothes for a vigorous evening ride, which was just what I needed, though with riding so hard I ended up staying up later than I'd planned . . .

Saturday morning brought a nice men's fellowship meeting, and a short rehearsal with a new guitarist who's joining our parish music ministry. Then we had plans to visit an area lake, where some friends were hosting a get-together for our marriage encounter group. We took along some freshly-picked corn to share with everyone; early in the season, so the ears weren't too full, but they certainly were sweet! Spent some fine time on the lake; took lots of pictures, which I haven't had a chance to download yet or I'd include one or two (maybe will add later). There were storms in the area, but only one while we were there, which came through when we were already indoors. The drive home was quite stormy - I don't think a minute of the hour-long drive passed without lightning illuminating the sky, and it absolutely poured for about half the drive - but uneventful.

Yesterday we had a couple new musicians join us at Mass, and welcomed back a young choir member who just finished a year in Latin America; as it happened, we were starting our communion hymn with a verse in Spanish, so she and I did a duet on it. In the afternoon we were going to a festival at one of the area churches, as a friend's band was playing. But it was such an incredibly gorgeous day that I decided to ride my bike, with the mrs. and another friend meeting me there. Nice group, very tight, did a great job covering a broad variety of tunes, from In the Mood to Spanish Eyes to Black Magic Woman. By the time they'd finished, we'd decided it was a fine day for a picnic, too, so I rode the bike to a nice park in the area (which, conveniently, I had to ride past to get home anyway) and staked out a picnic table while everyone else went and got the food and supplies. We hung out there for a couple hours as we cooked and ate and cleaned up. A brisk bike ride home completed the day.

With as wonderful as the weekend turned out, it's hard to believe I was in such a sour mood on Friday.

A call to service?

Some dreams are of no apparent significance, or may even seem utter nonsense. Others, upon further consideration, prove unconsciously revelatory, teaching me about my hidden attitudes and feelings. And then there are those that, initially, seem to ring out with an undeniable truth, but really end up preparing me for something entirely unexpected.

This morning, after hitting the snooze button (a once-per-morning ritual for me), I dreamt I was sitting on a sofa with my oldest sister-in-law, whom I also consider a dear friend, waiting for my wife to be ready for us to go somewhere. (For the life of me I don't know where we were; I didn't recognize the house.) With tears in my eyes, I lamented to her: "I know in my mind that the greatest joy we can ever know is to give fully of ourselves. But this knowledge doesn't seem to translate into action in my life." At this point, the second sounding of the radio broke through my slumber, so this was a fresh thought as I awoke.

The sense I had was of service to the poor, the sick, the homeless, etc., rather than of giving myself in love to my wife, which, while I think I'm doing fairly well at, is nonetheless an area in which most of us could still use some improvement.

This dream resonated with several things that I know to be true or have recently experienced. First, true giving of ourselves is, in fact, a gift to us. This has never failed to prove true in my life. Second, as I was mowing the back yard last night I kept thinking, almost as a mantra: of those to whom much is given, much is required. I was struck by how blessed I have been, in so many ways, and how little it seems I give in return. Third, I am still moved by the heart-stirring story I read yesterday of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Home, just outside Turner Field in Atlanta.

Once in the past, such a dream portended an opportunity for service that I might not have recognized without it. Fifteen years ago, a vivid dream of my late grandfather left me with a strong sense of our society's abandonment of the aged. It was the second thing within the week that had called my attention to this issue; I don't really remember what the first was. But that Sunday, there was a notice in our parish bulletin soliciting volunteers to provide geriatric respite care. (Respite caregivers assist family members who are caring for someone who requires constant supervision, by giving them a break of a few hours to run errands or just go relax for a while.) I volunteered, was trained, and ended up serving in place of another caregiver while she recovered from an accident. It "just happened" that my availability coincided with her injury; the change in my work schedule that necessitated the end of my service also "happened" to coincide with her getting clearance to resume her caregiving activity. Still, it was a real joy to care for and get to know my charge, a quite lucid but physically declining 94-year-old man who was being cared for by his rather spry 74-year-old son.

Now I've read this article, and had these thoughts and this dream. It could be that the latter were simply unconscious reactions to the former. Still, I think I'd better be attentive over the next few days for a fresh opportunity to serve.

Fortuitous flat?

Background:
Some members of the group I cycle with are planning to do the Ride Across INdiana (RAIN) the weekend after next. We did this ride two years ago: it was the hottest day I've ever cycled, and though I actually felt pretty good at the conclusion of the 160 miles, I really didn't want to do it again, ever! It wasn't so much the heat - after all, that was just the luck of the draw that comes with a July event; last year was much nicer - but I don't think the ride is as well supported as it should be, with only three official rest stops along the way.

But when we did it two years ago, one member of our group suffered a fluke accident just a few miles in and wasn't able to complete the ride. She was really disappointed, and I was willing to do this ride again if she needed a team to ride with (it really isn't a good ride to do by yourself, and it's a good idea to have vehicular support, too). So this is her year, but there are enough others from the group riding that I'm really not needed. I did tell the group I'd train with them for it, though.

So, yesterday we had a 100-120 mile training ride planned, starting at 7 am. Last Sunday we'd ridden about 90, and the path was pretty debris-strewn as a result of a storm the previous evening. As a result, three of us had gotten flat tires last week during the ride, including me. I'd used what I thought were my last spare tube and last CO₂ cartridge getting back on the road, and completely forgot to replenish my supplies during the week.

As I go downstairs yesterday morning, I'm beginning to feel as if it's a bad idea to ride without being properly provisioned, especially as we'd had storms again on Saturday evening. I thought the decision was taken out of my hands, because when I got to my bike, my front tire was again flat. But the tube wasn't completely out of air; it was more of a slow leak. And it turned out I had an extra tube and three spare cartridges in my supply box.

Now things get odd. I can't call the group to let them know I'm running late, as everyone's phone numbers are in my cell phone. The display has been gradually going out, and it has finally reached the point where I simply can't get it to come up. (Why I haven't had it replaced is its own long story!) But I'm pretty sure they'll call to check on me when I don't show up, as they're expecting me to be there. I pull my phone out and set it on the sofa next to me where I'm working on my tire, so I can grab it quickly if it rings - not noticing that I haven't turned it back on after our marriage encounter meeting last night. By the time I get my tire fixed and pumped back up, I'm leaving the house ten minutes after the group was scheduled to start riding, and it takes me a minimum of six minutes to ride to our starting point. But I know where they're headed, and so I start on my way, pushing my pace pretty well. I know that, by myself, I'm not likely to match the group's pace, though there are a couple riders who are probably slower than I am, so I might catch the rearguard. But they'll probably stop for a few minutes at the first break area, about a dozen miles from my house. I figure maybe I can catch up with them there.

Except they either didn't stop there or were gone already, so rather than stopping I press onward. Now I figure it will be the 25 mile point before I have a shot at joining up with them. But crossing an intersection about three miles further along, I'm surprised to see familiar jerseys and faces stopped on the other side of the bridge ahead. One of my friends is calling out to me to "Be careful! That the bridge is like ice!" which confuses the hell out of me as the temperature is in the 60's. Then I see that a couple of them are bleeding, and one is laying down in the grass beside the path.

It seems that wet algae growth on the wooden bridge had made it extremely slick. One rider went down crossing the bridge, followed by at least two behind him. The guy laying on the ground when I arrived was the most seriously hurt; we found out later that he incurred a broken shoulder blade and collapsed lung. Other than that it was mostly a matter of a few scrapes. If I'd been with the group, I'd have probably been right in the midst of the pile-up.

(BTW, I ended up putting in over 115 miles on the day. And it was a good thing I was equipped for a flat, as I ended up getting another one.)

Some cheese with my whine?

Had a birthday this week. The day itself was pretty nice. Rest of the week has been mildly sucky, going back to the day before.

Sunday morning, early, had a group bike ride. One fairly newbie had never been on this route before, started having heart rate issues and fell behind the group. I hung back to make sure he’d be able to find his way back home. When we met up with the group for coffee (since I knew they’d been waiting already, I ordered an iced mocha, which went down fast and really hit the spot), I’d ensured the new guy knew how to get home, and was really looking forward to pushing it with the rest of the group. Just after we started, I thought I heard something hit the street. I quickly looked down, but didn’t notice anything amiss with the bike. About a block later the guy behind me pipes up: “Hey, did somebody drop a speedometer or something?” Sure enough, I’d dropped my cyclocomputer (just a couple square inches), which I’d pulled back slightly from its bracket when I’d stopped and forgotten to reseat. “Oh, [expletive deleted],” I said, turning around hoping it had survived the fall and bounces, as the group pressed on, either not realizing or not caring that I’d run into a problem. After two loops back to look for it, and with the group long out of sight, I gave up and started on my way. I hoped to catch sight of them to finish the ride together, figuring they might’ve realized something was up and waited on me, but never did spot them.

The further I rode, the angrier I got. By the time I got home I was totally pissed off. To tell you the truth, it affected me all week. The computer was probably broken as soon as it hit the pavement, but since a replacement is going to cost at least $30 (if I don’t upgrade to a heart rate monitor, which I really am not ready to do), it would have been nice to have recovered it if possible, and four extra pair of eyes couldn’t have hurt. Lacking that, I was really looking forward to the group ride, which I’d missed out on the first part of by hanging back for the other guy’s benefit.

This is still not resolved. Nobody has sent me an e-mail asking me what happened. I can’t really send out an e-mail about it without being a whiner. For that matter, nobody dropped a line letting me know when they were riding midweek; I didn’t get one in, either, as I did yard work on Wed and worked late to make up for taking time off for an eye appt on Thurs. It looks like we're riding again on Sunday, though.

The eye appointment was another issue. I finally got contacts again last week, for the first time in 20 years. They’re bifocal, which are supposed to take some adjusting to. My distance vision is great with them, but I can’t focus on anything closer than three feet yet. Well, I only worked one day after getting them last week, spending last Thursday and Friday volunteering at this year's Habitat house, so I haven’t gotten into the habit of putting the things in each morning. So Monday, I just habitually slapped on my glasses and headed off to work. I put the contacts in when I got home, but most of my close-in reading happens during the work day. As a result, after one day at work with them in followed by five days without them, Tuesday sucked. I could barely see my computer screen. Of course, I can’t put on a pair of reading glasses, as that will screw up the adjustment process. Wednesday was a little better, until I apparently scratched my eye with the corner of a fingernail taking them out in the evening. Now on Saturday I'll be back to square one on the adjustment process, as I’m not supposed to put them back in until then.

Sorry. I know I’m abundantly blessed, and this has been nothing but a big gripe session. I mean, my home isn’t under several feet of water like my midwest neighbors to the west. I still have a good job and a wonderful family. Just blowing off some steam.

Deliverance

"I will call on the Lord, and I will be saved." Ps 17

Usually in my morning prayer time I find myself focused on the readings, but some mornings there is something in one of the Psalms that just really catches my attention. This was one of those mornings.

When we pray the Lord's prayer, we offer this petition (among others) for ourselves: "And lead us not into temptation."

Why do we so often find ourselves struggling against the same temptations? Looking at my life, I'm certain that every area of long-term struggle has been one in which I haven't really called on the Lord, or haven't trusted in the way God has wanted to deliver me.

I think this ties into previous posts. The simple (to say) prayer "Thy will be done" holds too little meaning for us. We don't want really want God's will be done. We want what we want, rather than trusting that what God wants for us is far greater.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. Help me to call on you, especially at those times when I least want what I think you want for me. I know if I do, I will be saved.

A matter of trust

(post title from a Billy Joel song)

In whom do we trust?
Put another way: to whose voice do we listen?

“When he has brought out all his own, the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jn 10

“Today, listen to the voice of the Lord. Do not grow stubborn . . .” (or: "If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts . . . ") Ps 95 (As I continue to meditate on this psalm, I keep seeing new stuff in it. Until this morning, I never realized how this verse follows "for we are the his people, the flock he shepherds." How directly this ties into the Jn 10 quote!)

We can't help listening to somebody. But to whom do we give heed? Who do we allow to lead us? Who do we trust? Whose will is really in our best interest?

Don’t we tend to trust primarily in our own understanding and follow our own desires? Haven't we exalted our own ability to figure out how the world works above our need to heed something as old-fashioned and outdated as scripture or church teaching? We've concluded that we have the ability to fully understand the world, and we reject anything that doesn't fit into that understanding as primitive superstition.

Oh, what pain we cause and experience when we listen to the wrong voice!