State of the union

It occurs to me that anyone who bases their impression of the state of my marriage on my blog posts - or other outlets I might use to vent when I need to - must think I'm miserable most of the time.

Not so.

This is where I share things that are on my mind, but when what's on my mind is how well things are going, well, I'm usually already sharing that with someone, and when things are going well with our marriage, the person I'm sharing it with is my bride. When things aren't going well, I am finding chances to talk about that with her, too, but I often want to chew on my thoughts a little first, and this space helps me do that.

So here we are in the midst of a busy (as always) Triduum weekend, and I'm about to go out to buy her an Easter card. But I'm pretty skeptical of finding one that expresses how grateful I am to be sharing our resurrected life in Christ together, and that also says how much I appreciate how she's grown spiritually, and how much sharing life with her helps me to walk as I am called, and how deeply I love her.  The fact is that our marriage does for me exactly what the sacrament is supposed to do, and I'm pretty confident that it is doing the same for her: helps each of us grow into the beloved son and daughter of God that we are called to be.

I am so blessed to be yoked with such a partner in the journey. I'll have to look for a card that leaves me room to say all of that in addition to whatever message they manufactured it with.

More Good Friday thoughts

From separate sources, yet connected:

Lord Jesus, 
raise us from our own falls, 
lead our wandering spirit 
back to your Truth. 
Do not allow human reason, 
which you created for yourself, 
to be satisfied with the partial truths 
of science and technology 
without seeking to pose the fundamental questions 
of the meaning of our existence
(cf. Porta Fidei, 12).

as quoted in the Way of the Cross at the Colosseum, Stations of the Cross led by the Holy Father Pope Francis, Good Friday, The Passion of the Lord Meditations by Lebanese young people under the guidance of His Eminent Beatitude Cardinal Béchara Boutros Raï (as requested by His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI)

This resonated with me, for the exact reason that modern science uses to reject the role of faith. Scientists insist that clinging to the concept of a creator of our universe will suppress the discovery of all that science can learn. If we don't seek out answers because we simply attribute everything that exists to God, we can never discover in full the workings of this universe. And as much as I hate that science has concluded that there is no way to allow any room for God in any "scientific" answer or endeavor, I understand the logic of this concern.

But if we conclude that our existence is a cosmic accident with no greater meaning, we arrive at the same problem! If we assume that there is no fundamental meaning of our existence, we will never seek it, and therefore can never hope to find it.

These two endeavors need not be mutually exclusive, and I love how Pope Benedict in his papacy emphasized the need for each to embrace the other.

These pages are an exploration into mystery. The word "mystery" in this context doesn't mean a puzzle, as in a murder mystery. It is not a thing to be solved, but an adventure into wonder, with each wonder that we encounter leading on to the next and greater wonder. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I didn't read this book this Lent. I thought I might be "all reflected out" on it. But no, here within the few pages I read on Good Friday I find a thought connected to the one that struck me as I prayed the Stations earlier. We have become so arrogant as to conclude that if a thing appears insolvable, we must reject it rather than allow ourselves to "pointlessly" ponder a thing that we have firmly made up our minds about.

For instance, many have seen the truth that "there is great suffering in the world" as incontrovertible evidence that the idea that "God is perfect love" must be false. If we begin with the stance that there is no greater meaning to our existence, we will not allow ourselves to consider how we might be reaching a wrong conclusion.

After all, what sort of love is unwilling to suffer for our beloved?

So the idea that this world is not the be all and end all of our existence does indeed cost us experiences that we might embrace if it is not so, and it is impossible for us to solve the "puzzle" of how these two things could both be true if we are convinced that the invention of religion - and an afterlife in particular - serves the primary purpose of relieving us of the stark reality of our mortality. If we believe that, then there's no point in trying to make sense of the death of an (allegedly) good man 2000 years ago: it was simply the evil of religion rearing its ugly head again.

But if our existence indeed has a greater meaning - if the pain of this life serves some purpose, if sacrificial love matters in the cosmic scheme of things, if there is an eternity for us to enter into, if we're not just an accident of physics like countless others before us and countless more to come - we can only learn that by trying to plumb how it might be true rather than insisting that it can't be.

This takes a humility which is counter to our nature, and Christians are often as removed from it as atheists are.

Holy Thursday/Good Friday adoration reflection, 2013

(The time indicated below is for the benefit of one brother who might like to know a specific time that I was lifting him up in prayer, and others who are also praying for him. Also, this color text was in my mind but not on the paper.) 
With Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel at St. Helen Parish:

Usually, Lord, I am here at a later hour, and my meditations have moved on to the events of that holiest Friday when you finished pouring out your life for me. Perhaps I have given this time with you in the Garden short shrift, so maybe it is appropriate, Lord, that I am here earlier this year, at the conclusion of a Lent in which I have frequently fallen asleep, as (if I may be so bold) my fellow disciples are doing this night.  You have called us to keep watch, and though you have gone off to pray, Lord, where I can't see you, I will wait this night with Peter, James and John, and await in prayer what is to come.

After night prayer:

Fr. Satish, our associate pastor, has encouraged us to view the Triduum through the eyes/perspective of one of the witnesses of these events. I am finding myself drawn to Peter:

"I would go to jail or even die for you!"
"You will never wash my feet!"
"I do not know the man!" 

Lord, you know how like him I am anyway: rushing into commitments I don't understand; thinking I've "got it" in one moment only to have you remind me in the next that I will never in this life be able to fully "get" all of you there is to be gotten. And how many times have I denied you with my own decisions? You don't rebuke me harshly in any of this, Lord, unless I get stubborn about it.

Take this first Eucharist that you shared with us tonight, Lord. Even with two thousand years of perspective, even as deeply as I think I've entered into and experienced it, I know I have only begun to feast on your Presence. How much more confusing it must have been for Peter and the others who partook of this Paschal meal with you while your Passover was not yet complete! No wonder we celebrate these three days as one event of salvation. You give us your Body and Blood in the upper room, but the giving isn't finished until tomorrow when you die, or fulfilled until Sunday morning when you rise again, or completed until we are transformed in you. Just as each Passover your chosen people celebrate their own delivery from slavery, so at each Eucharist we are present with you in the upper room, and at Calvary, and at the heavenly banquet we will celebrate with you for all eternity. Then we will get it.

But now I just hunger for you, Lord, that the infinite, eternal, holy You which (whom) you give us will take hold of my limited, time-bound sinful self and transform me as you long to, for my sake.

And like Peter, Lord, I often don't fully get the fullness of this foot washing thing. I keep feeling as if being yours carries with it some sort of perquisite, some benefit that I can get puffed up about. I sometimes feel "above" being served and so miss the crux of really laying down my life and serving. Of course, tomorrow you're going to show what that really means, but we're still in the Garden, and I think I shouldn't rush ahead just yet. Let me realize for a while that I'm still confused, I still don't "get" all of it. And though I've fallen asleep at times this Lent, Lord, I know you're going to use even that for good, somehow.

How often, Lord, we eat of you without allowing you to fully transform us into you.

11:07 p.m. (which is 8:07 where a dear brother is who is on my heart:)

As I sit here in your Presence, keeping watch, I am reminded both of my unworthiness of you and of the wrong ideas I've had of my unworthiness. I've had the idea that it is either something that disqualifies me from you or something I must amend. I know that this thing you're doing for me, Jesus, is exactly to address the whole issue of my sin, to teach me the full extent of love. I'm so grateful to be here with you, and pray that my brother has a deep sense of being with you, too, this night in the Garden and throughout the sacred Triduum. Bless him, Lord, with a deep, peaceful awareness of being in your Presence, of being in You.

Has Simon Peter drawn his sword yet and cut off Malchus' ear? So many of us who follow you are trying to defend you rather than lay down our lives with you! We think we're doing right, but in getting militant we fail to love, fail to allow you to love through us. Help us instead drink the Cup you have given us, the cup of your Blood.

later:

As I sit and struggle for alertness, for focus, I'm struck by how judgmental we can be of others' shortcomings. How often I hear people put down the apostles for not quite "getting it," failing to see how inadequately we ourselves have gotten it so far. Likewise when we spout the phrase, "There but for the grace of God go I," we too often mean something more like a Pharisaic prayer: "Thank you, God, that I'm not like that wretch!" It is an odd and great blessing to know my own wretchedness and be transformed by Jesus out of it.

My Jesus, you're about to be betrayed by someone you love. Too often it has been me. I pray tonight that  instead of abandoning you, denying you, or betraying you, I might instead walk along your way.

How people avoid God

I keep seeing people offer encouragement in the form of "positive thoughts" or "vibes."

So let me get this straight: you don't believe in a God who hears and answers prayer, but you believe that there are some sort of cosmic rays that the brain sends out that affect people's circumstances, and that it's helpful to "think good thoughts" to make sure the energy aligns in such a way as to produce the desired outcome?

(I''d bet that atheists would be as disdainful of this as of belief in God.)

Maybe this hunger to believe we have more power than we do is more universal than we acknowledge, and this is what Pascal meant when he alluded to what we now refer to as a "God-shaped hole in the human soul."  Maybe it's just an acknowledgement of our utter inability to control things beyond us. But it seems to me that many of us, and this includes many Christian believers, want to have some sort of supernatural influence on things beyond us without having anyone tell us what is best for us.

Today's word

flehmen \FLAY-mun\ - a mammalian behavior (as of horses or cats) in which the animal inhales with the mouth open and upper lip curled to facilitate exposure of the vomeronasal organ to a scent or pheromone

What a great new word!!  I find myself flehmening just to demonstrate to myself what they're talking about, though.

Why I don't put my foot down . . .

( . . . as someone has advised):

First of all, we're long beyond my putting my foot down in our relationship, outside of some very specific circumstances that we don't really seem to encounter anymore. Our marriage doesn't work like that, and didn't even when I thought it did. That was part of all the control issues I had to work on in the process of our building a healthier life together when we were preparing to reconcile as a family.

Secondly, I think we're addressing on our own the things I have found most frustrating, if gradually. The thing we've probably needed most is for me to communicate my feelings with you better, but I think we're making progress, as evidenced by our both checking in with each other before pursuing separating choices in our daily lives. This communication has been really helping me over the past week, and I hope we keep it going.

Then there are the matters of a) encouraging changes in you for your own sake rather trying to impose them on you, and b) accepting and loving you for who you are rather than trying to make you someone else for me, even (especially) under the guise of it being "for our sake."

But there is another big reason of a very different sort: in recent years I've discovered a part of me that, frankly, even I found more than a little scary, at least as I was figuring out my balance on it. I suppose I'd tried to deny it for the longest time, then looked for and have learned how to accept it without indulging it. Still, it would doubtless intimidate and frighten you - unnecessarily so, since a) there is nothing to be done about it that wouldn't hurt you, and I'm done with hurting you, and b) if you ever became not scared about it, you'd want, for my sake, for there to be some outlet for this aspect of me that also honors who we are, and there never can be. (Okay, enough a's and b's, and run-on sentences of every sort, for one post.)

So the bigger truth of this last thing is that the part of me that I've long been embracing and expressing in our life together is far more important than this more recently discovered part. Accepting this has helped me with that other area I've struggled with for so long, which you asked me about last night. In some relationships, the honesty of sharing it with you would be the most important thing. Maybe I'm deceiving myself to think it isn't for us, too. But it isn't as if no one in the world knows, though I have kept it pretty close to the vest. I've only told one person outright (not who you might think), who pretty much agrees with how I've been handling it. I will talk about it with you if you ever ask, and I think I've given you enough of an opening that you could if you want, but I'm not going to bring it up to you or force the discussion on you in any way.

Meanwhile, I think it's better to just keep giving myself to you in the ways in which you're comfortable, and not making you wonder about the rest. And really, there are other, more basic and central parts of myself that we're finally figuring out how to accommodate.

hypno

I have no business feeling this wiped out today.

Useless thought

In light of yesterday's post, today I am finding that I really must shift my focus, because what I'm thinking about has no solution. It hasn't improved in three decades and it is impossible to change. Better to invest my energy in more positive areas, and to remember that God will never fail to meet our needs.

Revisiting perspective

Somewhere (well, here, but I think also elsewhere that I can't find now), I've written on the danger of focusing our attention too much on our circumstances to the exclusion of spending time with, praising and worshiping God. The danger is that when we hold any item too close to our "eyes" it encompasses our full field of view and obliterates proper perspective. Things take their proper scale in our perspective only when we view them against the larger backdrop of our relationship with God, who loves us and is far greater than any set of circumstances in our lives.

(I have a good friend who is learning the applicability of this lesson to even the most extreme of circumstances.)

It occurs to me that the same thing is true of focusing our attention on the lack of a thing. Even though, in a sense, there isn't a "thing" there to block our view, yet this lack is itself a circumstance like any other, which can consume our attention and derail the peace we should find in God.

Our blessings are abundant, and we can miss them utterly by letting ourselves get wrapped up in our lack, our concern, our needs, outside of the context of the loving God who never fails to provide for all we truly need.

Today's words

syncope noun \SIN(g)-kuh-'pee\ - 1. loss of consciousness resulting from insufficient blood flow to the brain : faint  2. the loss of one or more sounds or letters in the interior of a word (as in fo'c'sle for forecastle)

canorous \kuh-NOR-us\ - pleasant sounding : melodious

A comic strip contribution and a WOTD.

Choosing

Even habits are choices, habits both of action and of thought.

The power and desire to choose better is a gift from God.  The actual choice to do so is a small gift back, by comparison, and yet turns out to be another gift from God, too.

Love and the cross

I have noticed that spending time with our grandchildren who are far from us causes me to miss them all the more when we must again separate.

I'm noticing this is true more generally, too, for people I love.

This Holy Week, it occurs to me that this is a form of embracing the cross, and is but a pale, revelatory shadow of the abundant love of God for us.

Healing wounds, in practice

If either of you is offended by my sharing this, even with the details of your hurt so obscured as I have tried to make them, please let me know and I will remove this post immediately.

Earlier this year I found myself reflecting on the healing effect of the wounds received by Christ's body, not just the historical wounds Jesus received in his crucifixion, but also the hurts received by his body in the world today, at least when they are united with his sacrificial suffering for redemptive purpose. Twice this week I have witnessed, in small ways, the healing power of vulnerability.  Sometimes the hurts we receive are but small things, and on these two occasions for me they have been reflections of the hurts I have inflicted on others. By feeling and indeed embracing the hurt I myself caused rather than defending myself against it, I have twice witnessed healing and growth.

The tears which sprang to my eyes in my friend's hallway on Monday morning were the natural outflowing of my realization of how deeply I'd embarrassed her with my careless words, when that had been the furthest thing from my intent. In retrospect, perhaps no other expression could have conveyed the truth of how much my thoughtlessness toward her hurt me in return. She subsequently expressed her wish that she hadn't said anything, but I am so glad she did. I can't imagine how else this would not have remained an obstacle between us, at least in a small way, or how we could have put it behind us so quickly so that we could make the most of our limited remaining time together.

Wednesday afternoon, in rebutting (basically) a speculative not-exactly-accusation from my bride about how I was feeling at one point the previous night, I ended up expressing the hurt and frustration I'd felt on several occasions over the past week. I did not intend to accuse her in return; I just thought it was important to share my feelings from over the course of the week, and how this context had made that earlier moment Tuesday night so tender for me that my feelings were more overwhelming than they might have otherwise been. That intense - yes, angry - need to withdraw from her had passed by the time of which she was speaking, however, replaced by a deep, helpless longing to bridge the chasm that was between us because of my reaction to her. Yet this explanation of course caused her to feel all the more accused, because it wasn't a thoughtless moment that had affected me but rather several decisions over time. Still, the fact that I was explaining and not accusing helped me not respond in kind when she became defensive, and while I had to be patient for the opportunity to reconcile over it - which was itself another evening of longing - it gave us a chance when the time was ripe to express our committed love for each other.

Being vulnerable leaves us susceptible to being hurt - and I am not just referring to my own feelings but acknowledging the hurt I caused both my wife and my friend - but love cannot spring to its fullness without vulnerability.  Had they not been willing to express their hurt to me, and had I not been willing to accept it as they reflected it back to me, neither of these relationships would be all that they are.

I am a very blessed man.

Today's word

demotic \dih-MAH-tik\ - 1. of, relating to, or written in a simplified form of the ancient Egyptian hieratic writing  2. common, popular  3. of or relating to the form of Modern Greek that is based on everyday speech

The featured definition was the second.  I'd never heard of the word, but it makes sense.

Growing pains

The funny thing is, I wasn't really trying to communicate what I apparently did with that message yesterday. I was just trying to reassure you of my love for you and help you understand that you were misreading my feelings at that point on Tuesday night. But now that I have, it is really important to me that it not become what it looked like you were interpreting it to be last night: an effort to control the decisions you make. We both need to be able to share our feelings, so that when either of us is doing something that is hurting the other we can feel free to talk about it so that we can each make informed decisions, yet without any attempt at all to control each other. We have to be able to discuss our feelings and our needs, and for the longest time I've felt that I should just deal with things myself. Partly that has been out of a fear of ever exerting inappropriate control over you.

I don't ever want you to feel as if you can't do things because of the effect it might have on me. At the same time, I think we both need to be free to discuss what effects the other's decisions are having on us before those effects build into a crescendo of frustration.

I hope that in all of this the primary message you hear is how very much I love you. I'm worried that you will think I'm being critical of you, when all I really want is for us to continue to grow together, to know and love each other more deeply. I don't think you'd rather not know how I felt, as I certainly don't want to be in the dark about your feelings, either.

I feel insignificant

And this morning I'm feeling as if the atheists are right: that the main purpose of my faith is simply to help me feel significant when I am not, and that its secondary purpose is to keep me in line.

But I know that getting out of line is not the answer. It would do nothing but hurt people, including me.

And I know that the reason last night bothered me so much is that it made me feel insignificant, and that all my responses since have been a petulant, silent scream against that - even the ones that have served to bring us closer.

Today's words

carminative \kahr-MIN-uh-tive\ (adj.) - expelling gas from the stomach or intestines so as to relieve flatulence or abdominal pain or distension

katzenjammer \KAT-sun-jam-er\ - 1. hangover  2. distress  3. a discordant clamor

I completely get the "distressed cat" origins of the second word as it applies to the first definition . . .

Paradise by the Dashboard Light

When it came out while I was in high school, I thought this song was fabulous and hilarious.  Over the past couple decades I've come to hate it for the messages it conveys about marriage and relationships.

But today I'm wondering if there might be another reason I don't like it. And if there is, I have way more work to do.

dammit

Homecoming snark (from me)

Hey, I know how you can help me really feel loved and missed!  How about when I get in the door from my weekend away, when I come sit beside you on the sofa and we spend about a half hour talking, you play your Kindle game the whole time. Then you can be sure to watch one of those programs that has always driven me from the room every. single. time.  Yeah, that should help me feel really special.

Here's the thing: I know you love me, as far as your feelings for me are concerned.  I know it.  But do you still not understand how I feel when you make this decision?

Another HOF, and more

Yesterday we (yes, it was we!  It was an unexpected pleasure, when I was expecting to be on my own for this experience, to be surprised with the company of the dear friends whom I'm visiting this weekend.  I so love this family, and am so grateful that we got to do this together!) went to the Baseball Hall of Fame.  I've always dreamed of visiting the Hall, and it was a real fulfillment of my baseball fandom to be able to do so at last.  There were many memories stirred, and while they were not necessarily all pleasant, many of them were a really fundamental part of who I am.

• There was one mysterious moment of, "hmm, I should remember that.  Why don't I remember that?" which was quickly solved when I noticed the date, and realized what my family was going through at that time.
• There was another moment I remembered well that was poignant for its contrast with what ended up happening in my life just the following week, related to the previous memory.  This memory also has the sweet recollection of having spent it with my oldest daughter and best friend from high school, and of being associated with an event that truly made sports history that most people are aware of.  The juxtaposition with what came after is striking, and in a way, even more precious because of it.
• For each of these, there were many, many mementos associated with far happier memories.  
• The Orioles' most successful era coincided with my childhood, so I experienced many nostalgic feelings as I saw the displays associated with these players and events.  
• There were also a couple of items associated with the most recent season, in which we long-term fans so reveled.

The thing is, for all I have enjoyed my HOF experiences this weekend, the best part of it has been the time with these friends.  Today at brunch, the boys were playing a game I'd never heard before, in which they were naming off elements (etc.) which truly impressed me that they would know - including one or two that I didn't (or had forgotten.  yeah, that's it.  forgotten in my old age.)   I commented that there is no way for these parents to deny these children, who are clearly and undeniably theirs! 

HOF

Had a wonderful visit at the Pro Football Hall of Fame yesterday, where I saw a relic of one of my earliest sports memories: Tom Matte's wristband. There was lots of other cool stuff, too, including Ray Lewis's last uniform - champagne stains and all.  Some neat Johnny Unitas stuff, too, and I had to snap a photo or two of Jim Thorpe stuff in honor of my dad, who had a great respect for both of these athletes, but probably for Thorpe more than for anyone else ever.

Whose hand is on the tiller . . . ?

Whose hand is on the tiller . . . ?

. . . and the sheets, for that matter?

A friend in a rough place recently shared about the importance of letting Jesus steer our boat, and how we frequently don't allow him to until we've steered ourselves into such dire straits that we've no other choice.  It caused me to reflect on my own experiences.  Of course, there are many aspects of our lives to which this analogy is applicable, but here I've taken some time to reflect on some pretty specific circumstances.

For me, letting Jesus steer meant allowing him to direct the complete healing of the brokenness that had led me to steer my boat so far astray in the first place. Long had I pleaded with him to heal me, never doubting that he had that power nor that he wanted me to be whole, yet growing increasingly frustrated with my pattern of failure. I didn't understand that I was to embrace a far different and more active role in his work of my healing than I could see. While I knew that God rarely does for us what he's calling us to do ourselves - or at least participate in - I didn't understand the nature of the help that he was providing for me, nor the nature of my need for it. He'd been calling me for years, with increasing clarity and urgency, to trust him enough to participate in therapeutic processes. These I resisted because they themselves seemed fraught with risks; eventually my very fears came to be fulfilled by my refusal to trust God, to submit control and allow him to guide me through the therapy that he'd been calling me into. Those fears' power to paralyze me, to keep my frozen grip upon the tiller and stubbornly keep steady my sails even as I progressed into greater peril, refused to fade until I ultimately had to contrast them against the storm I'd navigated myself and my family into.

Recognizing my old hurts, so that I could fully forgive those who had hurt me so deeply so long before, were but two important steps along my way to wholeness. They would not in themselves have completed God's desired plan for me. I also had to allow God (and a good therapist) to walk me through the full healing of those wounds, to recognize how they had formed me in unhealthy ways so that I could learn healthy ones in their stead, to be fully restored. God knew this all along, and had placed a stirring in my mind and heart that I should commit my vessel to the course he had in mind for me. Yet my fear was greater within me than my trust in the divine pilot, so I steered into other, far more perilous waters. I would have far less regret of it had I been the only soul in the boat. Yet he heals us of that guilt, too, as we allow him to navigate our craft, even from the danger into which we ourselves have navigated.

I'm not suggesting that God is steering anyone else onto a path similar to my own.  I'm just saying that, wherever he's leading you now, don't fear to follow.  As with Jonah, he has a way of reaching those who seek his will yet also resist it.

The ironic, thirsting truth

I thirst. - Jn 19: 12

I saw this quote last night on the poster which is still up in our church for the Tajci concert the weekend before last, and a fresh (for me) irony hit me right in the face.  Though I've previously reflected and written on this sixth of the Seven Last Words of Christ, in a moment of clarity I realized aspects of it that I had never considered.

God, who has no lack whatsoever but rather is fully complete in Godself, and therefor has no need of us as we experience need or lack, nonetheless thirsts completely for our sake, that is, on our behalf. If you think about it, this makes sense: God is infinite love, and love always desires and seeks the best for the beloved, and desire is thirst, and the best for us is found only in God.

We who have no way of being complete except to find ourselves made whole in God's love often fail to thirst for God in a way that leads us to our fulfillment.  We are too frequently unable to recognize that for which we truly thirst, and we substitute every lesser thirst for our true one.

God's thirst for us, his desire for us for our own sake, is so great that he was willing to go to immeasurable lengths so that we might be satisfied.  Unlimited Christ forsook his glorious eternal throne to become a human bound by time and the rest of physical limitation.  In a very real sense, while he remained fully God, Jesus gave up his godly glory for our sake.  By comparison, the humiliating crucifixion he endured was a small thing, and anyone who really thinks the cross was a small thing doesn't grasp it in the slightest (which is the most that any of us can grasp it). As a result of all he did, God is no more complete than he would have been had he done nothing at all for us. We, on the other hand, receive the opportunity to become completely fulfilled because of God's thirst for us, that is, for our sake.

Yet we are too frequently unwilling to give up any of ourselves for the sake of others or for God, even when it is really the only way to become fully ourselves. Rather, we cling to the tiniest bit of ourselves as if it is our very essence.

So God, who needs us not at all, thirsts greatly for us and seeks us at all cost, while we, who completely need God, often fail to thirst for him or seek him at even the slightest cost.

Grace at work through our choices (edited)

I suppose the ideal response to many conflicts would simply be to let them pass in the moment, but I don't know many people who are really equipped to do that.  Oh, I know a few who claim to, who do their best to, but whether we're honestly facing our feelings or just stuffing them, there's usually at least a little responding to them that is necessary and healthy if we're not going to react to them in unhealthy ways.  So I'm going to process Monday evening some more - which might indicate that it might be good to process with my wife; too. Our date on Thursday should give me a chance to do that, which may be another case of our making choices that give grace room to work.

So when my wife jumped my case the other night while I was rushing in the door from work and right back out it for a rehearsal, it really threw me off kilter. We make it a point to always exchange kisses of greeting and of farewell, and we didn't do either. I remembered the latter on my way out the door, but it felt hypocritical to turn around at that point when I was feeling so upset - ambushed, really - so I just continued on my way. I then had to talk with her by phone about an issue our youngest daughter was having which she hadn't had the chance to discuss with me as I'd passed through - or which opportunity she'd squandered on my scolding. That conversation went pretty well, but I was still frazzled, and ended up walking out of the rehearsal while we were working on the Exultet so that I could spend a few minutes in the Lord's presence, as my agitated state was cranking up my frustration level with how that was going.  (It seems like most folks just don't get the concept of chant in general, or of chant notation in particular.)

This brief few minutes made a huge difference.  The rest of the rehearsal went fairly well.  Our interim director picked up on the same issues I was concerned about.  When I walked back in the door after a two-hour rehearsal, my wife and I both had a better perspective on our conflict.

And then there was the television.  I just have to keep reminding myself: the sort of thing she was watching Monday night is her version of the Super Bowl.

But in the moment, I couldn't manage to think that. As I shared previously, the tv program and another minor disagreement before bed left me feeling rejected and lonely. I wanted her to reach out to me; I needed to feel reassured that I was really more important to her than her program, to have some sort of acknowledgment of how I was feeling, but she didn't provide it; in fairness she may have sensed I wasn't necessarily very open to what I so hungered for.

And because I was looking for something from her that I wasn't getting, I didn't especially want to reach out to her.

But before the night was over, I did.  Even though I had to get up from the bed for a little while, the decision we consistently make to sleep next to each other put me in position to overcome my hurt and my fear of rejection and reach out to make contact with her again.  Still, doing that wasn't just a matter of habit. I made a conscious decision, not to ignore or stuff my feelings, but despite those feelings to let my wife know that I was still open to our relationship, that I wasn't going to react to them by closing myself off from her.

But to leave those feelings not discussed would not be healthy for us, either, so we're going to have to take advantage of our weekly dedicated connection and review time to address this concern.

A better day

I got a chuckle this morning when I told my wife that I'd mentioned to a coworker she knows that Potter and I had "gotten each other in trouble" yesterday. I noticed at lunch that she has had quite a productive morning, even if she dismissed it as mostly an effort to "keep myself awake."  I think that's really part of how she apologizes, or at least attempts to make reparations for conflict. And she put off the nap for which she was so desperate until after I'd left to come back to work, hanging out with me while I had lunch. We'll see what the rest of the day brings.

Oh, and the partially non-functional spare bedroom door that contributed such a key role to yesterday's conflict now functions again.  Turns out that there was a screw protruding from the strike plate. It also turns out that there's no wood behind it to speak of anymore, so pushing it back in allows the door to latch properly.

So, no more chocolate for the dog, until the next time one of us get careless.  It does look like I need to hang a new door, though.  I'll probably go ahead and do all four of them.

A rough day

I started bracing myself for the day when I got this message:

Looks like I'm going sofa shopping again with Deb. So might not be here at lunch time. Depending on how long it takes me to get ready. Since I'm not up yet and have to eat and shower.>3 - exact text message, 9:58 a.m.

I wasn't really sure how to respond to this, but made a conscious effort not to assume the worst. This was a small challenge given my frustration the previous night, when I had to clean up in the kitchen from the whole weekend while I was getting dinner together.  I was pleasantly relieved by the next communication:

I washed the dishes, while I was waiting for Deb, who was supposed to be here by now.  But I didn't put the clean ones away first so it's kind of a mishmash - phone call, 11-ish

This was one of two things that I reaaally wanted taken care of yesterday.  Yeah, I think it's weird not to put the clean dishes away first, but at least the dirty ones were taken care of and I wouldn't have to deal with anything in order to get lunch.  I decided that I'd take care of any drying and putting away that needed to be done while I was home at lunch time.  I thought the afternoon was pretty smooth, except for two landmines I didn't see:

So someone told me these were to die for. I just say they are all right. - wife's FB photo of PB&J candy bar from Trader Joe's. 

*Please* tell me you were able to buy just one . . . - my comment on wife's photo

So I walk in the door just before having to leave for choir rehearsal, and get my case completely jumped.  When I took the gate down to use the bathroom, I had a fleeting thought of needing to put it back up.  By the time I finished, I didn't even give the gate a second thought on the way back out.  So the dog pushed open the guest room door and got into the chocolate set aside to be packed for "the Aloha grandkids."   As much trouble as he was in, I was, too.  Two things: he's just a dog, and is destined to go where his nose leads him.  I should have put the gate back up.  But in the five minutes I was home between work and rehearsal, I didn't even remember going back into that part of the house at lunch time.  Then I also got my case jumped for "not giving me any credit at all" because I didn't know how TJ's packages their candy.  Between these two quick hits in the few minutes I was home, I left for a capella rehearsal pretty angry.  And also a little hungry, though even in the moment I knew that was more my fault than my wife's; dinner may not have been completely ready, but I hadn't left myself time anyway to eat more than a few bites of what she did have ready.

By the time I got home after our two-hour rehearsal, I still didn't really remember going into the back part of the house, but realized at least that I might have. Things were calmer when I got home, and I think this admission as soon as I walked in the door may have helped with that. The Bachelor season finale was on, so there wasn't really a chance to really deal with either of our sets of feelings. When I went into the bathroom, I immediately remembered being in there earlier, though still only vaguely remembered dealing with the gate in order to get there. Afterwards I again apologized for my mistake, which she seemed to accept; it even seemed not very important to her anymore.

Yet I was feeling as if The Bachelor was more important than tending our relationship was. Maybe she was still too angry over the earlier events, or maybe she's just that captivated by this program. In retrospect, I might have felt the same way if we'd been having a conflict during the Super Bowl. Still, by the time we had another minor conflict at bedtime over how to deal with the dog since he hadn't eaten his food at his usual time because of having been in trouble, I went to bed feeling rejected and lonely. I didn't fall asleep very quickly, and awoke around 3 and couldn't get back to sleep. I wasn't angry so much as hurting. It took me a long time to be able to just reach over and put my arm over her. The truth of our relationship is that we will always reconcile more quickly if I make the first overture. I'm generally able to get beyond my feelings to that point more quickly.  But, although she didn't move away, she also didn't seem very receptive to the contact.  Even at the time I was aware that this could have been nothing more than her being asleep, but it was hard to be certain. After a while I got up and went out to the sofa, which I was sharing with the dog; it was probably 4:30 when I went back in to bed, at which point she seemed more accepting of my presence.

It's hard, on such nights, to not have at least a passing thought that I mustn't entertain.  It's a good thing these evenings are so infrequent.

Today's words

stirp /STERP/ - a line descending from a common ancestor : stock, lineage

Today I'm just thankful that a word game gave me a new word, as WOTD hasn't given me one all week.  (Not that I'll remember this one.)  When you know this word, the next word in the dictionary makes sense:

stirpiculture /STERP-ih-cult'-yer/ - the breeding of special stocks or races

Finally, I've been hearing this one all week, on a radio program that has been on either on my way to or from lunch:

primer /PRI-mer; PRY-mer (chiefly Brit.)/ - 1. a small book for teaching children to read  2. a small introductory book on a subject  3. a short informative piece of writing

I was well familiar with this sense of this word, but I rebelled at the pronunciation they were using for it in the title of a book they were discussing.  It turns out that, where I'm from, at least, I've been mispronouncing this for as long as I can remember, though I can't remember the last time I used the word aloud in this sense.  No wonder non-native speakers find English to be such a frustrating language!

Resting

Restless is the heart until it rests in God. - St. Augustine of Hippo
So I swore in my anger, "They shall not enter into my rest." - Ps 95
. . . do solemnly swear or affirm . . . - Oath of Enlistment

Praying Psalm 95 this morning, upon which I have reflected several times in the past, I came to consider afresh the last verse.  The end of this Psalm always struck me as harsh compared to the rest of it.

This morning I thought about it in a different way.  Perhaps the original sense of this verse was as I have always understood it, and it is probably important to keep in mind the effect that letting our hearts go astray has on the heart of God.  I believe such straying grieves him greatly.  But this morning I'm considering, perhaps along with St. Paul, who wrote at length about entering into the Sabbath rest, that God's "anger" and "swearing" from this verse are not at all as we tend to understand them.  Just as I believe God's "jealousy" is very different from ours, being jealous on our behalf rather than his own, I believe his anger is the same way.  He is angry for our sake, because we lack the sense and insight to be angry for our own, at least in useful ways.  Oh, we get angry with ourselves often enough, but it is too frequently shrouded in a fear of change that causes that anger to perpetuate itself rather than motivate us to grow. Our inability to enter into his rest may not be because God prevents us from entering into it as a punishment for letting our hearts wander.  Rather, in his anger on our behalf God affirms for us the consequences of letting our hearts wander far from him: we cannot enter into his restful presence so long as we allow our hearts to go astray.

There are many ways we do that, and not all of them are inherently sinful.  In fact, I believe that many of the good and important things that are ours to do may end up leading our hearts astray when we falsely believe that any of them are more important than gifting ourselves with adequate time to enter quietly into God's presence.  It's easy for us to believe we don't have time to spend unproductively, but the greater truth is that the most productive thing we can do each day is spend time resting in God's presence, basking in his great glory and boundless love for us.

Perhaps it is about normal for me to get halfway into the Lenten season "by program" before being able to reach a quiet time in which I can rest a little.  But I'm convinced that this norm is not God's plan for me.  Rather, he'd have me not be so busy, so astray with things that I deem so urgent or which appeal to me more, so that I might receive the gift of his rest to empower my daily walk with him.

Just noticing . . .

. . . that it has been two years and 296 days since anyone besides me has commented on my monoblog.

Hungry (physically)

Imaginary conversation:

"Hey, America's on a health kick that shows no sign of letting up, but that's always gonna take a back seat to yummy desserts and convenience.  Let's start making healthy cookies! We'll make a fortune!!"

"Sounds great! See what you can come up with."

Six months later . . .

"They're still not very good. Nobody is ever gonna want these instead of their favorite chocolate chip or sandwich cookies, or even our own vanilla wafers. It was worth a shot, but we've just spent too much on this already. It's time to pull the plug."

"Wait a sec!  What if, instead of 'cookies,' we call them 'breakfast biscuits'?  After all, the middle of our name comes from 'biscuit.' We can market them as - oh, I dunno - a healthier alternative to donuts?"

"Well, they're certainly not more delicious than donuts, but they're at least a little more nutritious than fried dough.  It might work.  I don't know that there's much of a market for 'breakfast biscuits,' but maybe what we've spent on development won't be a total loss . . . "

And thus was born belVita^®.

Hungry

This season of Lent has been too full.  There hasn't been nearly enough emptiness.

It's amazing how even a renewed dedication to regular prayer and reflection can become another thing filling my life, keeping me from entering into the depths of the desert and finding there the spring flowing from the Rock which alone can quench my thirst.

Too, I should be watchful for spiritual snobbishness, be on guard against grasping for an experience rather than a way of walking humbly with the Lord.  I ought not cast aspersions on what God has led me to do thus far.  Let me instead just keep redirecting my attention back to him, knowing that I am not leading myself along this journey, but merely trying to follow where he leads.

CMA (not the Country Music Awards)

I get really frustrated when I go to mass and most of the homily is a program pitch.  More on that in a moment, but first, the part I liked.

There has been discussion about the work that the evangelization committee has (or hasn't) been able to accomplish, and as I have been listening to outside descriptions of how this panel has been going about their "business," my immediate response is, "Don't these people know Jesus?"

So in our pastor's brief comments, he focused on the Samaritan woman's evangelization efforts.  She didn't lecture anyone, she merely shared her encounter of Christ with them.  I thought this was an incredibly pertinent insight, often neglected in the context of the other big themes of this reading.  I also can't help but wonder how many people in the church didn't have the foggiest idea what Fr. Dave was talking about.

The remainder of the homily time was devoted to having us fill out envelopes for the archdiocesan Catholic Ministries Appeal.  I understand that our bishop is trying to increase the participation level for his work, but really?  Step-by-step instructions on filling out the form on the envelope?

And since I played at all the weekend masses: 3 times?!

Sigh. The sad thing is that, by having me do that in Mass, he only got what I had in my pocket, when I'd have undoubtedly given more if I'd written a check.

My unexpected day

The beginning and end of my day were as expected.  Everything in between was a surprise.

I hadn't gotten the message that there was a funeral this morning, but even if I had I probably wouldn't have realized I wanted to go.  It wasn't until Teri told me whose mom it was that I realized I wanted to go and support the family in their grief.  So instead of getting the second attempt at transferring pictures out to my sister-in-law via e-mail, I showered and dressed and went to the funeral.

I'm pretty sure I've never had a string break in mid-service on one of my classical guitars before today.  About midway through the first communion hymn I heard that distinctive snap, then had to get the broken string out of my way so I could finish the service with the other five.  It was very odd - enough to cause me to miss receiving communion.

After the service, I went downtown to pick up replacement strings.  I knew I was due to change the set even before the one broke this morning, so this was a good opportunity.  Then I stopped at market and picked up a pound of raw honey.  I love raw honey!

When I got home, I was asked to immediately get out of my suit and help finish bathing the dog.  I have no idea how she'd have managed had I not come in.  Then I put together some shrimp salad with the leftovers from last night, (oh, an additional thing that went as planned!) and proceeded to change the strings on my classical.  I basically finished in time to change my clothes for mass, which I wanted to attend because I thought we might have some other area folks in the church for the concert.  My new strings held tune surprisingly well; I just discreetly fine-tuned them once during the service.

The concert was wonderful.  Wonderful!  Tajci and company - including her sister Sanya - provided a very nice musical reflection on Jesus' sacrifice for us.  It was uplifting and moving; I loved how she worked in songs and hymns with which we'd be familiar, yet in new ways that were so interesting.  Pescador de Hombres in Russian, then Spanish!  Via Dolorosa.  A wonderful arrangement of Were You There.  Ah, too many to remember all of.  I loved how she refused to break the narrative, keeping the music going so that we didn't have a chance to offer applause.  It was the first chance I've really had to miss Jubilee; my Lent has had plenty of reflection, but my Fridays have been so busy I haven't had a chance to miss our wonderful Way of the Cross ministry.  After they completed their reflections on Good Friday, they offered some more concert-like selections, even bringing Tajci's sons up to sing on a few songs.

After helping them get torn down following the concert, we finished the evening by being just in time to get Taco Loco to bring home for a late supper.

Ahhhh.

Avoiding internal crises

I'm going to have to figure out how to keep from feeling kicked in the gut whenever someone commits a crime that has elements in common with my former self.  I have faced my consequences, made the changes I needed to make in my life, and need not revile myself just because others do reviling things.

Now, to deal with the interior debate of that second sentence:

• Yes, I faced my consequences.  They may have been less than my actions warranted if evaluated in a vacuum, but the combined circumstances of my self-reporting, my history, and my family's support in healthful ways along with their need for me to get well and resume my place all factored into the authorities' decision to set the consequences they felt were appropriate for me. In retrospect, the self-reporting was probably the biggest factor.
• There isn't really any question with regard to my second point.  I'll die rather than ever do anything similar.
• Now that my mother-in-law has passed on and my wife's sister-in-law has had a change of heart, there is really  no one left who condemns me when they hear my story, and I've given plenty of people the chance to.

Today's word

clepsydra \KLEP-suh-druh\ - an instrument designed to measure time by the fall or flow of a quantity of water : water clock