Is Company Coming?

 

It was a hot spring day, 88 degrees this afternoon, and a bright clear sky.  The adoration chapel I had visited had the a/c turned up high, and it blew an almost cold breeze on my arms, so I was in no hurry to leave.  Besides the good Company there, I knew my house was probably a lot warmer.  I had the inspector come out just this week, for both my heating and a/c.  Both are in top condition, but for years I have had a goal of not turning on the a/c before June, and the furnace not on before November.  And in some years, I’ve actually been successful!

After dinner at home, I was playing some computer games at my kitchen table, when suddenly --- BOOM!!  And when I looked out the window, it was cloudy and raining.  An hour or two later, I heard my neighbor dragging his garbage cans out to the curb for tomorrow’s pickup.  The rain had stopped, so I went out and made conversation.  I thanked him for putting up the basketball net and playing with his boys.  I know many examples of kids gone astray because of missing or “too busy” fathers.  That personal relationship with a loving dad really matters, especially in these times.

I commented that the temperature had dropped noticeably during the rain, so I excused myself, went back into my house and grabbed a book, and went for a walk.  I used to be known as “the book man” to people within a few miles of my house, as walking while reading was a part of my normal day --- until a few years ago.  Maybe I can start again.  Walking back home after reading a few pages while on a short tour of my sub-division, I noticed a male and female duck standing by the tree in my front yard.  Over the years, I’ve often had nesting ducks under the bushes in my back yard, but I just this week noticed how overgrown my front bushes are.  So, as I approached them, I said: “Well, duckies, there are some nice bushes around my house.  You are welcome to stay.”  And as I went in my front door, I saw them make a bee-line toward my front bushes.

Maybe I’ll have company again this year.  I’ll have to keep a lookout, especially if I see momma duck sitting on a nest in my front yard --- near the new basketball net next door.  Maybe I’ll need to have another conversation with my neighbor, if I see that company has arrived for a while.  His boys are too young to have once seen ducks in my yard in the past, but previous neighbors’ kids were fascinated, especially when the ducklings began cheeping.

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And speaking of company, reminds me of the conversation I had yesterday afternoon.  My other neighbor’s parents were visiting again.  The mother told me that she comes on the weekends now, when her daughter has her chemo treatments because “it gets pretty bad.”  My 44-year-old neighbor is fighting a stage 4 liver cancer.  I confided in the mom how my sister had also fought, and the years she stayed were a blessing for her daughters, all of whom had new children during her cancer.  And I mentioned some miraculous cures I know of; prayers matter.  I told her if she and her husband were ever in need of a place to stay while visiting, my spare bedroom is always available.  Company is always welcome at my house.  She thanked me.  In a way though, that is not company I’d enjoy having, but I trust God is in control.  Always.

I Will Follow Him

 

I began reading Eucharistic Meditations by St. John Vianney a couple of weeks ago, and this weekend I came to two short chapters, in which he spoke of how much he cherished the Feast of Corpus Christi, and its annual procession through his village of Ars, France.  This year I am on the planning committee of a local Corpus Christi procession and celebration in the city downtown park.  We met Monday night.

Yesterday, I read a couple of chapters in preparation for my small group study, using the book When You Pray, by Edward Sri.  The book helps lead you to deeper, real prayer with Jesus.  And at the end of the chapters I read for group discussion I read these words:

“Ask God to reveal to you a place in your life where he might be ‘weaning’ you off of a former way of praying and giving you more solid food for maturity.  Ask him to help you trust him in the new ways he may be leading you.  Ask him to make this new way of love delightful to you and surrender your growth in maturity to him.”

He speaks of a joyous participation in the life of Christ.  Earlier that same afternoon I met a man I hadn’t seen in a while, and the conversation turned to some melancholy times we have had in our lives.  Lately, even his wife noticed, he said.  “I’m doing all the good things I should, being a good man, going to church, praying, but …”  And I told him of a recent incident I had, where a conversation between two Bible study friends got contentious, and I walked away, not partaking in the conversation, not listening.  I thought I was doing a right thing, witnessing my faith, doing a loving thing by not arguing, but it later came to me in reflection on the Corpus Christi celebration and St John Vianney’s words, that I had acted righteously, but without joy.  St. John Vianney’s words remind us how loving Him, witnessing Him, should be a joy.  Mother Teresa of Calcutta demanded her sisters exhibit joy.  “The poor have enough problems without seeing your sour face.”  “Smile,” she said.  My friend and I made a commitment to work at exhibiting joy in our life, and feeling it.

And today, in these early morning hours I thought of these things, and the coming Corpus Christi celebration, and the procession behind the Body of Christ, being carried around the park.  My subsequent thought was that in a procession led by the Eucharist we could be saying “We will follow Him.”  Perhaps even a banner to be carried?  That physical witness of physical walking behind Him would be an image of our spiritual following.  Then I thought, no, this shouldn’t be like a parade we just watch, this is a commitment each is making: “I will follow Him,” and every one around me will see that commitment.  To the world I say, I will follow Him.  And I will do so with great joy.

I prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary early today.  And as I meditated on His Passion, it came to me what following Him really means:  death to self, but life in Him.

A life with joy.

I will follow Him.

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For many years I listened to a CD I had of songs sung at a youth conference held at Franciscan University in Steubenville, Ohio.  It was extremely joyful.  One song really struck me though.  After a beautiful, moving song the announcer said: “Who here would stand up here in front of us and commit their life to Jesus?  Who will stand up and say their name and give their life to Jesus?”  There was a pause, then one person said: “My name is Eddie xxxx, and Jesus, I give my life to you.”  There was loud applause. Then, after prodding, another stood up.  More loud applause.  Then another.  Then lots at once.  And then the announcer said for those who committed to come up front onto the stage, for all to see.  And they were prayed over. And the segment ends with joyful singing, and another girl shouting loudly: “Jesus, I love You.  I give my life to You.”

I thought of that CD this morning, as I thought of those who might follow Him, in procession, and the joy which awaits them. 

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And then this morning I learned Al Kresta has liver cancer.  Founder and head of Ave Maria Radio, the largest producer of Catholic Radio programming in the country, who has faced so many spiritual and physical battles in his life, is now fighting another.  But I am sure he will be fighting it with joy.  It’s just how Al is.  He gave his life to Jesus many years ago, and has been dancing along behind Him ever since.

I Care

 

It’s 3AM, Holy Thursday night, Good Friday morning.  I am staying up, keeping Jesus company on the night when He was alone, mocked and tortured before the final agony of the cross.  I used to spend this night in the chapel, His house, but tonight I’m at my home, but I know He is with me here.  My meditations tonight are on His Passion, as written in the books My Other Self by Clarence Enzler (Chapter 8), and The Better Part by John Bartunek (Meditations 393-398 --- the Good Friday Gospel).  And in between reading those books, I’m praying the rosary, reading again the meditations I long ago wrote on each mystery.  So much to discover anew, how much He loved us then – or no, how much he loves us now, for as God He is not limited by time as we know it.  For Him, it’s all happening right now.

In The Better Part, reflecting on John 18:1-11, I had underlined where it speaks of Judas’ betrayal these words: “He became a traitor.  He is now the kind of person who is willing to climb the ladder of success by stepping on his friends.”  How often I have seen that in others and sadly, in my own life.  And yet as when Judas gave Jesus that final kiss, Jesus still called him “friend.”  Later the author reflects (and I underlined again) what Jesus might be saying to us: “I offered the sacrifice of the cross for you, before you even knew me, let alone loved me, and I did it with total freedom.  I didn’t have to, I chose to, just because I can’t bear the thought of spending eternity without you.’

And in the book margin next to those underlined words I had written: “The artist who doesn’t want to part with his work.”  What a great insight the Lord had given me when I wrote those words!  Artwork is the unique expression of what the artist is feeling.  People may look at a painting and ponder long to try to understand why the artist created the unique brushstrokes, what was he thinking here, and what feeling is he expressing there?  Everyone may look at the artwork and perceive some aspect of how and why the artist did everything uniquely this way, and they may correctly interpret some of the thoughts he expressed, the very part of his being he expressed in his artwork. But no one can totally understand, however, the love he put into his work, and that’s why the serious artist finds it so very hard to part with his work.  Jesus feels that way about each one of us.  How much of eternity did He ponder before making me exactly as I am; how could He ever accept being without His creation?  How could I ever think He doesn’t love me?  How could anyone not want to return a love like that?

And then I read on and prayed on this night.  And praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary, I reached the third mystery, the crowing with thorns.  And I read this reflection I had written about what I perceived Jesus felt then, when He was crowned, mocked, and spit upon.  “In my deepest pain:  quiet.  Alone; no one cares.”  That thought, which Jesus may have felt, is why I stay up these Holy Thursday nights, reflecting on all He did at this time, and why.  I want Him to know:  I care.

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And as I was typing these words, I received call that my good friend, Marie, is being admitted to the hospital for tests on acute pains she is feeling.  I care for her also, and all my friends.  Please pray for her.