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.

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!

A warped sense of normalcy

(3/17; Here's an unpublished post from a month ago; the granddaughter is fine.)

Well, that subject could cover a multitude of issues, couldn't it? In this case:

With our daughters' and grandchildren's chronic and acute medical issues, primarily with familial pancreatitis, but also with asthma, a recent emergency appendectomy, and the like, our family seems to have grown accustomed to having a family member in the hospital. It has become part of our sense of "normal." So when our 3-month-old granddaughter had to be taken in last night because she wasn't keeping anything down, we kinda' shifted into crisis mode, but neglected to ask those around us to help with prayer support. It just seemed almost like, "No big deal, we've been here before," especially given that so many others are dealing with so much, too.

Our dear little one really doesn't seem to be doing too badly. She has rotavirus, on top of the RSV with which she was diagnosed last week, but I went by to see her at lunch time, and she's bright, alert, and happy as ever. But that doesn't change the fact that, aside from her not-so-scary diagnosis, condition, and prognosis - depending how quickly she responds, she could be home today - this really cranks up our stress level, too. Mrs tg is in Maryland this week, celebrating with her dad and siblings her mom's first birthday in heaven - at least she has our baby girl's big sister with her, so there's one less grandchild to make arrangements for (including transportation to and from preschool). Middle daughter and I took turns last night helping out with "Bubby," who was about as dear and sweet as I've ever seen him; I think he's really flourishing in his time out of big sister's shadow.

Still, this morning I was feeling a bit chagrined by my lack of clearer vision, and chastised for not immediately turning to the Source of our strength. Finally getting a bit more on-track, I took a short break at work this morning to compose an e-mail asking our friends to lift us up before our loving Lord.

A tenuous metaphor

(This started as part of a reply comment, but I wanted to expand on my thoughts beyond the time I had available, so copied it into a draft post that I could edit on at my leisure. Tom, you've given me a good chance to write - albeit obliquely - about something I've been dealing with. I mention this so you'll know I'm not attempting to elucidate some lesson for you, as if your shivering over my pictures represented some sort of deeper issue that you really need to deal with. Nothing of the sort.)

Don't you think we overrate comfort sometimes?

Physically, in the realms of fitness and sport, we don't make real progress until we push ourselves further than we thought capable. "No pain, no gain," whether the pain is the physical ache of our muscles or the toughening of our psyches. Little irritates us more than an athlete who looks for the easy way out, getting by on performance aids or not giving their all to fulfill their prodigious talent.

Intellectually, until we challenge our mind with new ideas and new ways of thinking, our conception of the world can be a set of superstitions (which can take many forms, including rationalism). It can be difficult to encounter a seemingly well reasoned perspective that counters our own. Sometimes we find a flaw in that perspective that allows appropriate parts of it to then fit into our understanding. Other times, we may be surprised to find that our view has been incomplete or inaccurate.

In Christian parlance (I'm sure other spiritual circles make similar observations), we speak of the importance of leaving our "comfort zones" to reach out to others in new ways with the love of Christ. This is an important and often overlooked aspect of becoming the Body of Christ in the world, as we learn to recognize and minister to His presence in ways we never considered before.

I've been dealing with a weird combination of feelings in my life (I'll spare you the details). It would be easier not to experience them, and I've long been careful to avoid situations that evoke them. I didn't respond so well to them, at first, falling back into familiar, old, and - well, a bit immature - patterns of thinking. But I've subsequently become convinced that dealing with them more appropriately is playing an important role in my becoming the person I'm called to be. So while they're uncomfortable, and somewhat evitable (like that morning's cold, which I didn't have to face, after all), I believe that - in the long term - choosing to avoid them (by holing up in a safer or warmer or more familiar and comfortable emotional "place") will really keep me from important growth (something better than a few great pictures).

Saturday in the park

Here are a few shots I took on 1/31. It was a bitterly cold (single-digits °F) morning, at the end of a cold week following a round of sleet and snow on Tuesday night and Wednesday. The snow still looked fresh even though it had been on the ground for several days, and many of the trees were ice covered. These first shots are from nearby Clifton Gorge. When I got there, another guy told me I'd encounter this frozen waterfall in perfect light about 500 yards in. Having decided to go on the spur of the moment and snapping other shots along the way, I nearly ran out of battery before I had a chance to shoot this one! (I've got to buy an extra!) But he was definitely right about the lighting. I'd been playing around with the manual exposure settings on my digital (Kodak P712), which is as close as I've ever gotten to "real" photography. I'm really pleased with the results!

I've noticed these trees growing from the side of the Gorge many times before. This morning I was also trying to capture the ice-covered twigs which show up pretty well on the left side of the color version of this shot. The printed black-and-white version looks almost drawn rather than photographed, like a piece of sci-fi/fantasy art, especially near the bottom. I'm not sure how that will show up in the reduced-resolution online version.

This one was shot before the others, at home before I went to the Gorge. There's a lot going on for a simple-looking photo. I love the interplay of light and shadow, especially on the vertical posts supporting the lattice. The path worn in the snow from the porch door was from our dog (Col. Potter) going out to do his business throughout the week. But my favorite part of the picture is pretty subtle: there's a thin horizontal line of sunlight peeking through the snow on top of the railing, on the right. It (along with some shots of the sunlight glistening on icicles, which I might post later) was what got me playing around with the manual settings in the first place; the automatic exposure settings just wouldn't capture it, and that thin, glowing line that so captivated me was completely lost in the snow above and below it. Switched to manual, and on my third adjustment (on a different shot, taken from the porch doorway) - BINGO! (You'll see it better if you click on the link.) Then I was heading down for a couple shots in the back yard, happened to look back where I'd been, and saw this shot. It doesn't seem as effective in monochrome, but I may tweak it a bit more and try again.

Weather weirdness

So Saturday things finally warmed up enough to allow me to clear the ice from my driveway and sidewalk. We'd had snow on the ground for nearly two weeks, kind of unusual for here. (Oh, I have to get a couple of the pictures posted from last Saturday morning at the park!) Anyway, if it had just fallen as snow I'd have cleared it right away, but it sleeted first, so scraping off all of the snow that followed would have actually been more dangerous. So it all ended up getting packed down, but at least everyone knew what they were dealing with. The roads were treacherous for several days last week, though.

Anyway, things started warming up on Friday, such that the surface got slick and I got stuck in the driveway trying to get out to work. I figured that was a sign that I should clear it when I got a decent chance. So after returning from dropping off some compact fluorescents at the collection point Saturday morning, I started in on it. I was fascinated by the way the melted layer underneath resulted in big chunks of the packed ice breaking off at a time, and how that underlying water would then run downhill. I probably cleared about twice what I intended just because I was amused by it. Simple minds, eh? Speaking of which, mine goes weird places when doing laborious work. So do you call a guy who takes the blame for the planting the wrong flowers a landscapegoat?

The nice weather held for Sunday - mid-40's, sunny, and the roads were dry enough for my first bike ride of the year. Yeah, I had to "gear up," but it was so nice to be out. Woo hoo! Am I out of shape! I've been on the trainer pretty much every week, but as important as that is, it's no substitute for miles on the road.

It's even better riding weather today. My legs are telling me that it's a good thing I have to work instead! Looks like more wintry temps return by the weekend.

Studio session 2

Last night I was back in the studio for some guitar work. What a blast, though I was so nervous! It was a completely different approach to playing. Over the past thirty years of "performing," I've learned how to handle a mistake: you simply press onward. I've had plenty of practice with that! Sunday's session was the same way, as we didn't want to interrupt a choir take for something we could fix later. Last night, though, they wanted me to stop immediately on the slightest flub, even a muted chord or slightly missed beat. And I could hear everything I was doing! Usually, I'm somewhat buried amid the mix, which makes it okay if everything isn't perfect. I'm sure it will be that way in the end.

It sure took some getting used to, but I'm really pleased with what we ended up with!