A wonderful week in MD. Our office was closed last week, so it was a great opportunity for us get away for a week. I decided not to mess with taking my bike, so got up early on Sunday morning for a short ride (20 miles or so), after which we got on the road. I was surprised at the traffic volume, but it mostly moved pretty well.
The first couple of days were mostly decompression. Visited with mrs tg's dad and some friends in the neighborhood. Went to visit her mom's grave, then my dad's, which is an interesting and potentially expensive story.
Took my running shoes, and ran on alternate days (first time this year; man did my legs hurt for the first few days!). Wednesday, went to an afternoon game at OP@CY; the O's blew a 4-run lead in the 9th to lose in extra innings. This team will be good if their young arms develop as hoped. In the evening, stopped for excellent crabcakes at the local seafood restaurant.
Thursday, helped get the yard ready for a party on Friday. My band mates from high school & college were coming over. The last time we were all together was probably my wedding! Played guitars, grilled out, swam in the pool, had a great view of the community fireworks from the driveway. What a grand day!
Saturday, my cousin had a get-together at his place. I met my new baby cousin, and spent a fabulous afternoon and evening with my side of the family. Another wonderful day!
Sunday, great weather and smooth traffic for the drive home.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Dad's grave site
First of all, I was sure I must've blogged about some of this background info before, but can't find it to link to it.
"Dad" is a more complicated word for me than for most. When I refer to dad, I'm almost always referring to my adoptive father, who married my mom when I was about 3, I think, as opposed to my biological father - whom I've never met - or stepfather.
Anyway, dad was a tortured man, an alcoholic whose glory days of high school and semi-pro athletics were past, and whose adopted son was never going to be the athlete he had been. When he took his own life when I was 14, in some ways he did me a favor. I no longer had a dad who treated me with disdain. Mom went on to get involved with my stepfather a couple years later, who had some positive and terribly negative influence on my life, and I inevitably grew up despite all that, with the warped sense of normalcy that I've learned so many of us share.
In recent years, I've unsuccessfully tried to visit dad's gravesite on several visits back home, usually on the weekend. He was buried in '74, and while I was pretty sure where his grave was, I never could locate it. But now the cemetery office was open, so I had the specific location of his plot. I still couldn't find it.
I called over one of the workers, who showed me where to look on the markers for the plot numbers. It turns out his marker had sunk. "No problem," he assured me, they could raise it for me. The guy had only worked there for about three weeks, and when he and his coworker went to pry it up, the concrete base was broken in half. I'm pretty sure it happened right then, when they were prying it, but they hadn't cleared it sufficiently for me to be certain.
They don't use concrete anymore, because it deteriorates over time. So to mount the bronze marker on granite in place of the current concrete will cost around $800. Dad had other kids from previous marriages, but I've never known any of them, and my sister and mom have long since passed on. I haven't decided whether it makes sense to spend the money on his marker. That I know of, nobody other than me has visited the grave in at least two decades, so I figure there's no rush. In the grand scheme of things, I think I'll keep that money in pocket until after we replace our 45-year-old furnace and central air unit.
"Dad" is a more complicated word for me than for most. When I refer to dad, I'm almost always referring to my adoptive father, who married my mom when I was about 3, I think, as opposed to my biological father - whom I've never met - or stepfather.
Anyway, dad was a tortured man, an alcoholic whose glory days of high school and semi-pro athletics were past, and whose adopted son was never going to be the athlete he had been. When he took his own life when I was 14, in some ways he did me a favor. I no longer had a dad who treated me with disdain. Mom went on to get involved with my stepfather a couple years later, who had some positive and terribly negative influence on my life, and I inevitably grew up despite all that, with the warped sense of normalcy that I've learned so many of us share.
In recent years, I've unsuccessfully tried to visit dad's gravesite on several visits back home, usually on the weekend. He was buried in '74, and while I was pretty sure where his grave was, I never could locate it. But now the cemetery office was open, so I had the specific location of his plot. I still couldn't find it.
I called over one of the workers, who showed me where to look on the markers for the plot numbers. It turns out his marker had sunk. "No problem," he assured me, they could raise it for me. The guy had only worked there for about three weeks, and when he and his coworker went to pry it up, the concrete base was broken in half. I'm pretty sure it happened right then, when they were prying it, but they hadn't cleared it sufficiently for me to be certain.
They don't use concrete anymore, because it deteriorates over time. So to mount the bronze marker on granite in place of the current concrete will cost around $800. Dad had other kids from previous marriages, but I've never known any of them, and my sister and mom have long since passed on. I haven't decided whether it makes sense to spend the money on his marker. That I know of, nobody other than me has visited the grave in at least two decades, so I figure there's no rush. In the grand scheme of things, I think I'll keep that money in pocket until after we replace our 45-year-old furnace and central air unit.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Pentecost!
This feast day is definitely one of the highlights of my year! Since the Holy Spirit transformed my life, and brought me to an intimate, personal relationship with Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, I have loved celebrating this feast!
There is a scripture passage from today's liturgy that I can't help but feel is in need of a little expansion in our day. St. Paul tells us that "No one can say 'Jesus is Lord' unless he is under the influence of the Holy Spirit." Today, we toss the verb "say" around pretty loosely, partly because it has become so common to say things we don't fully mean or understand. Examples could fill a book! Of course, anyone can say any words at all. I believe what St. Paul must mean is that no one can profess "Jesus is my Lord" except by faith which is the gift of grace that can only come by the Holy Spirit's movement in an open, humble heart.
We're entirely too proud of ourselves to submit to the Spirit's transforming power. "Come, Holy Spirit! Fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in us the fire of Your love! Lord, send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created, and You shall renew the face of the earth!"
Create me anew, O Spirit!
There is a scripture passage from today's liturgy that I can't help but feel is in need of a little expansion in our day. St. Paul tells us that "No one can say 'Jesus is Lord' unless he is under the influence of the Holy Spirit." Today, we toss the verb "say" around pretty loosely, partly because it has become so common to say things we don't fully mean or understand. Examples could fill a book! Of course, anyone can say any words at all. I believe what St. Paul must mean is that no one can profess "Jesus is my Lord" except by faith which is the gift of grace that can only come by the Holy Spirit's movement in an open, humble heart.
We're entirely too proud of ourselves to submit to the Spirit's transforming power. "Come, Holy Spirit! Fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in us the fire of Your love! Lord, send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created, and You shall renew the face of the earth!"
Create me anew, O Spirit!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Great week
It has been a really great Easter season so far, and this past week has been the tops.
My mom's only sister
My mom's only sister
Monday, May 18, 2009
What pleasure!
lick
smooth
suck
creamy
nibble
taste
delicious
savor
revel
delight
swallow
the sensations far exceed words
i just love eating ice cream!
smooth
suck
creamy
nibble
taste
delicious
savor
revel
delight
swallow
the sensations far exceed words
i just love eating ice cream!
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Holy Week
A post previously written but not posted:
The Lenten season has provided so many opportunities for growth. It's amazing to me that, no matter how long we walk with the Lord, there are always so many new and challenging and exciting things to learn about our wonderful, loving God, who continually calls us deeper.
Sunday evening after getting home from our party following our final Way of the Cross for this Lenten season, I sat down to pray the Office of Readings for the day. I don't know if it's that Palm Sunday is typically so busy that I haven't had time to pray this "hour" previously, or if it just struck me afresh this time. But the idea from St. Andrew of Crete that so struck me was this image of should running enthusiastically to meet Jesus on his entry into Jerusalem. Instead of laying down palm branches or garments along his way, St. Andrew suggests that we should lay down our very selves in supporting Christ. This is only way I can now smooth the way for Christ's triumphal entry into the lives of those who do not yet have personal experience of his unfathomable love and glory.
I find that I get so wrapped up in aspects of my life to which I'm too attached, which I don't want to give up. My Lenten journey always reveals this to me in some way.
The Lenten season has provided so many opportunities for growth. It's amazing to me that, no matter how long we walk with the Lord, there are always so many new and challenging and exciting things to learn about our wonderful, loving God, who continually calls us deeper.
Sunday evening after getting home from our party following our final Way of the Cross for this Lenten season, I sat down to pray the Office of Readings for the day. I don't know if it's that Palm Sunday is typically so busy that I haven't had time to pray this "hour" previously, or if it just struck me afresh this time. But the idea from St. Andrew of Crete that so struck me was this image of should running enthusiastically to meet Jesus on his entry into Jerusalem. Instead of laying down palm branches or garments along his way, St. Andrew suggests that we should lay down our very selves in supporting Christ. This is only way I can now smooth the way for Christ's triumphal entry into the lives of those who do not yet have personal experience of his unfathomable love and glory.
I find that I get so wrapped up in aspects of my life to which I'm too attached, which I don't want to give up. My Lenten journey always reveals this to me in some way.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Lenten catch-up
Wow, I haven't entered anything new here for a while! Been too busy living, I guess. I haven't had time to ride, either!
Jubilee's season has been going great. What a wonderful Way of the Cross service we're blessed to offer to the parishes in the area. I may get to experience most of it from the congregation's perspective on Friday, as I'm fighting off a cold and doubt my voice will be up to snuff, barring Divine intervention in the next 20 hours. I'll need to be there anyway, to play on the one guitar piece that's part of the program, so I may as well prayerfully immerse myself in these wonderful reflections and prayers from an entirely different perspective.
The weekend before last, we got to share this service with dear friends from our time in Biloxi in the first half of the 80's. Three and a half years ago, when our youngest daughter was in the hospital giving birth to her oldest child, a familiar looking person strode through the door into the hospital lobby. We hadn't seen Carol and Phil in 8 years, only twice in the preceeding 20, and never outside of Mississippi. Their daughter and son-in-law had moved here, and they were also soon welcoming a new grandchild. We've managed to visit together whenever they've been in town in the ensuing years. This dear couple was part of the faith community that was so instrumental in forming my relationship with my Lord. We won't be seeing them locally again, as their daughter and her family are moving away, but we're looking forward to visiting our friends in their home in Colorado, where they now live. These several years of intermittent time with them was such a wonderful gift, and their affirmation of the power of my current ministry is all the more precious because we know they've walked closely with Christ for so long.
Oh, our CD turned out great!
This week has offered another wonderful set of blessings. Our associate pastor, Fr. Satish Joseph, used to travel the length and breadth of India offering parish missions with a close priest friend of his, who now resides and ministers in St. Louis. So this week the two of them were reunited, offering their first parish mission in the U.S. here. Next week they'll do another in Fr. Rajpaul's parish. The churches (of our two partner parishes) were packed with 500-700 people each night. The praise and worship was wonderful, the teaching inspiring, and the Holy Spirit was clearly at work. The theme was "Hakuna Mattata." Sounds unlikely, I know. But it was about looking at Christ through the eyes of St. Paul, a man who was in prison when he wrote about the joys of being a prisoner for Christ. (I'm pretty sure they didn't have cable T.V. or workout areas in first century Roman prisons.) What a great message. Once I encounter Christ, as Saul did on the road to Damascus, the events of my life are never measured the same way, and I can find joy in the midst of whatever else life brings, through Him who strengthens me. Setting aside all of the credentials and credits in which the world puts so much faith, we count them as rubbish (Fr. Rajpaul implied the actual Greek word St. Paul used is more like excrement) compared to what Jesus has done for us.
Also, we had a fabulous Catholic men's conference last Saturday. Cincinnati has had 15 of them; I've been to 12 or 13. This one was maybe the best ever; at least top 2.
Well, that's the biggest part of what I've been up to during this season of grace and reconciliation, besides striving to walk closely with Christ each day. May He continue to bless this Lenten season, that our celebration of our resurrection with Him may be complete!
Jubilee's season has been going great. What a wonderful Way of the Cross service we're blessed to offer to the parishes in the area. I may get to experience most of it from the congregation's perspective on Friday, as I'm fighting off a cold and doubt my voice will be up to snuff, barring Divine intervention in the next 20 hours. I'll need to be there anyway, to play on the one guitar piece that's part of the program, so I may as well prayerfully immerse myself in these wonderful reflections and prayers from an entirely different perspective.
The weekend before last, we got to share this service with dear friends from our time in Biloxi in the first half of the 80's. Three and a half years ago, when our youngest daughter was in the hospital giving birth to her oldest child, a familiar looking person strode through the door into the hospital lobby. We hadn't seen Carol and Phil in 8 years, only twice in the preceeding 20, and never outside of Mississippi. Their daughter and son-in-law had moved here, and they were also soon welcoming a new grandchild. We've managed to visit together whenever they've been in town in the ensuing years. This dear couple was part of the faith community that was so instrumental in forming my relationship with my Lord. We won't be seeing them locally again, as their daughter and her family are moving away, but we're looking forward to visiting our friends in their home in Colorado, where they now live. These several years of intermittent time with them was such a wonderful gift, and their affirmation of the power of my current ministry is all the more precious because we know they've walked closely with Christ for so long.
Oh, our CD turned out great!
This week has offered another wonderful set of blessings. Our associate pastor, Fr. Satish Joseph, used to travel the length and breadth of India offering parish missions with a close priest friend of his, who now resides and ministers in St. Louis. So this week the two of them were reunited, offering their first parish mission in the U.S. here. Next week they'll do another in Fr. Rajpaul's parish. The churches (of our two partner parishes) were packed with 500-700 people each night. The praise and worship was wonderful, the teaching inspiring, and the Holy Spirit was clearly at work. The theme was "Hakuna Mattata." Sounds unlikely, I know. But it was about looking at Christ through the eyes of St. Paul, a man who was in prison when he wrote about the joys of being a prisoner for Christ. (I'm pretty sure they didn't have cable T.V. or workout areas in first century Roman prisons.) What a great message. Once I encounter Christ, as Saul did on the road to Damascus, the events of my life are never measured the same way, and I can find joy in the midst of whatever else life brings, through Him who strengthens me. Setting aside all of the credentials and credits in which the world puts so much faith, we count them as rubbish (Fr. Rajpaul implied the actual Greek word St. Paul used is more like excrement) compared to what Jesus has done for us.
Also, we had a fabulous Catholic men's conference last Saturday. Cincinnati has had 15 of them; I've been to 12 or 13. This one was maybe the best ever; at least top 2.
Well, that's the biggest part of what I've been up to during this season of grace and reconciliation, besides striving to walk closely with Christ each day. May He continue to bless this Lenten season, that our celebration of our resurrection with Him may be complete!
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