What Does God Want of Me?

This first week of Advent began in Phoenix with my nieces; it was a great blessing.  But, as I already documented, so was my flight back sitting next to the like-minded stranger.

I arrived home at 1PM, and by 4 was having drinks with a friend, discussing our plans to help those in need.  My midnight adoration hour set me firmly in the “I’m home” mood.

Wednesday was a mid-day bible study, at which I learned a friend belonged to NODA.  NODA?  As she explained, NODA is No One Dies Alone, an organization whose members commit 4 hours of their free time to be at the bedside of someone dying alone.  What a wonderful (and needed) group!!  My friend described how she recently was at a dying woman’s side and was frustrated to notice that there was no longer any crucifix on the wall of the Catholic hospital.  Crucifixes had been removed during re-modeling and not replaced.  “I’m going to write the board of directors and offer to buy new crucifixes,” she said.  Fortunately, I happened to know someone who knows someone who is the current CEO of the hospital, and later that afternoon emails were sent asking for action.

On Thursday night I made a presentation, the Treasurer’s Report, at the Annual Meeting of a local non-profit.  Basically, I said we are doing good work, much more needs to be done, it will cost money, and as treasurer I am committed to finding it.  I was surprised over the concluding applause --- at my saying I hadn’t done anything yet!

On Friday morning the men’s Bible Study never cracked open the Good Book.  One of the men asked for help in discerning God’s will in a problem he faced.  His two youngest girls were in the local public high school and unhappy there.  He and his wife would like to send them to an expensive private school, but money was tight.  The girls said they’d love to go to the private school, but ….  “I’ve been praying,” he said, “but I’ve heard no answer, and I’m not sure what we should do.”

The discussion over his problem lasted the entire hour.  At the end, he asked each man his opinion; I was last.  I told him I couldn’t really comment on his life, because I was not him, but I could tell him what I’ve been doing.  “At one point I told God I wanted to do His will --- but I soon found out my commitment was just the start of my being able to do it.  Relative to money decisions, I’ve arrived at the point where I try to take money out of any decision.  If something is right to do, I try to do it and God seems to make sure I have enough money to make it happen.  I haven’t balanced my checkbook in years.  And one more thing,” I said.  “You guys have noticed how often as we discuss things here it seems what I am reading seems to fit the discussion, well let me read to you what I read just now as you were discussing things:

Psalm 25
Prayer For Guidance and Deliverance

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
O my God, in you I trust.

Lead me in your truth, and teach me.

For you I wait all the day long.

Who is the man who fears the Lord?
him will He instruct in the way that he should choose.

The leader of the Bible Study group then read the entire 25^th Psalm, suggesting that the man and his family read it for the next few days, together, before making any decisions.  Afterward, I spoke to the man privately: “In recent years I’ve come around to supporting a new local Catholic girl’s high school because it has a focus on making girls who will make a difference in this world.  It has some Protestant girls there, and their families are very satisfied with the program --- and the school would cost half as much as the private school you are considering.”  He thanked me for making him aware of another option.

This week I’ve been purchasing needed gifts for the children of a single mom, and I asked the local Catholic bookstore to select some books for the kids.  Friday afternoon as I walked to the entrance of the store I saw a car in the lot which had the entire back seat piled with junk:  clothes, ice scrapers, food bags, pop containers, etc., all stacked as high as the front seat headrests.  Someone seemed to be living in this car.  I mentioned it to the woman in the bookstore, who said she had noticed also --- the car was parked in the first handicapped spot, very noticeable.  “I think I know who it is; she volunteers at the local U of M hospital.”  A homeless person who volunteers to help others!!  “I’m not sure what I can do for her, but pray.”

I didn’t know what to do for her either, but I went to the nearby church to say my Evening Prayers prior to the Friday 5:30P mass.  As I began my nightly rosary, I said: “Lord, I offer this rosary for that woman who is living in her car.  Please help her.”  And before I said the first words of the rosary prayers, my thoughts leapt to something I had read a couple of days before in the parish bulletin.  A local home for seniors, run by some sisters, had placed an ad asking for someone to come and stay in the home, free room and board, if they would look in on the women there during the evening hours.  They wanted a caregiver!  I went out of the church, found a bulletin and confirmed my memory of the ad, and then found the bookstore’s ad in the same bulletin.  I called them.  The bookstore lady was thrilled at the opportunity to offer the homeless woman a place to stay --- and she could continue to volunteer to help others!

All of this week’s events were on my mind this Saturday morning as I began my morning prayers and read:

Ant. 1:  Sing praise to the Lord; remember
        the wonders He has wrought.

Psalm 105
Give thanks to the Lord tell his name,
make known his deeds among the peoples

O sing to him, sing his praise;
tell all his wonderful works.
Be proud of his holy name,
let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice.

Remember the wonders he has done
his miracles, the judgments he spoke.

Hymn

Praise him for his grace and favor
To his children in distress;
Praise him still the same as ever
Slow to chide and swift to bless;
Alleluia!  Alleluia!
Glorious in his faithfulness.

Reading those words, I decided to write this blog post, but note carefully why:  not to remember any good things that I have done, but only to remember that I have done my part.  Look at my actions this week:  I have actually accomplished nothing!

What happened with my airline seatmate?  Will crucifixes be put back on the walls of the Catholic hospital?  Will we find funding to care for disabled people needing care?  Will the man put his girls in a private school, perhaps a Catholic one?  Will the homeless woman find a home?   Will the single mom (who is pregnant) find the wherewithal to care for all her kids?

I don’t know!  And a key point is, a point I need to remember is: I shouldn’t care; I shouldn’t worry.  What does God want of me, I asked in the title of this blog posting?  All he wants is that I do my part --- and trust Him to do His.

The words of this morning’s prayers reminded me to “make known his deeds,” “remember the wonders he has done,” and “praise him for his grace and favor to his children in distress.”

This I do.  This I wish to remember.

So that was my first week of Advent.  Advent is a time for preparing.  I think I learned some good lessons this week, and I wonder with some level of excitement what God has in store for me next week.  I don’t know, but for my part I plan to start the week off by attending a talk at our parish on Sunday night by Fr. Jacques Philippe --- all the way from France to lead this weekend’s woman’s conference, and then talk to our parish Sunday night. 

If God can help arrange that an author I admire comes all the way from France, well, I guess it’s the least I can do to hear him.  : - )

Visiting God

As I write this, I’m back at home, in my parish’s adoration chapel for my Tuesday night hour --- what a blessing that I might be here, Lord.

On the radio, shortly before I arrived at the church, I heard the news about another man being arrested for attempting to climb over the metal fence surrounding the White House, and the thought struck me:  a fence keeps people away from the home of the U.S. president, while here God --- the God of the entire universe --- sits in His home with open doors.  The president is protected from his people, while God welcomes His.

It’s strange to think about their differing leadership styles:  one preaches from a podium, while Another sits at eye-level, inviting conversation.  One seeks --- no, demands --- honor, while the Other asks only for love, and indeed gives more than He gets. In the quiet of the adoration chapel, God tells me so many things, and my heart hears and answers.  Our president speaks often, and demands crowds and wide reporting of his every word, but it seems he cares not whether you hear or understand his words, but only that he gets what he wants --- a respect that he feels is due to him, and his office.

In the quiet here, the thought strikes me that the president is like the baby we sometimes hear crying in a church --- it is a disruption which must be quieted or taken outside.  There are more important matters going on than his whines.

And so I also now quiet THESE thoughts and begin tonight’s conversation …

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While sitting here, I read a meditation on Matthew’s Gospel and the miracle of the loaves.  I read:  “He tells us to open our eyes and our hearts to those around us.”  And I read a question in the reflections there: “Who do you want me to give myself to today, Lord?”

As our time together closes tonight, my thoughts went to my return flight from Arizona.  Danny, a retired military man, was seated next to me, and he spoke to me: “After this plane takes off, I will move to that vacant seat across the aisle.”  Fine, I thought, more room for both of us.

But before the flight took off, we spoke a bit further.  Danny had served at Ft. Hood in Texas, where I did.  He recently became caregiver of his wife’s mom, and he worried about all the things which he might have to do --- much like the worries I had when I first began caring for my mom.  He talked about his current job at an automotive-related company, as was mine.  And he talked about his life’s priorities, many of which were similar to mine.

I held in my hand the novel I had planned to read during the 4-hour flight.  I never read a page.  And Danny never moved to a new seat.  The hours passed quickly in conversation, a most enjoyable trip.

Why even recall it now?  I think that last question of the gospel meditation was answered for me then, even before I read the question tonight.

God works that way, if we let Him put His plans before ours.

On Tuesdays I Cry

It is going on a year now, I guess, since that first time it happened.  As the Tuesday noontime mass ended, Father stepped down from the altar, turned back to kneel, and then rose to leave the church down the main aisle.  The people sang the recessional hymn, but a man in the first row went up to the priest and asked:  “Father, would you bless my baby?”  It was obviously a young newborn.

Father stopped, took the baby into his arm, placed his hand on the baby’s head, closed his eyes and began praying.  Now a priest holding a baby is not a common event, and two young boys walked up from their nearby pew to see this sight, and they stood there looking up and staring as Father continued to pray.  After a bit, he completed his prayer, handed the baby back to his father, and stopped as he noticed the two boys in front of him.  And so he reached down and put his hands on one and then the other, and prayed over them also.

And so it began.

The numbers at mass grew gradually, as the word spread among parents.  There never was any announcement or comment in the weekly church bulletin about what was happening.  Nor was there any announcement at the mass, like: “Okay, now ‘s the time to come up here.”  No, the mass ends, the priest steps down from the altar, and the kids just quietly line up to receive God’s blessing.

The majority of the children seem to be too young for Holy Communion, although a number of teens now regularly walk up to be blessed and prayed over.  Well over a hundred people now attend that Tuesday noon mass, and 50 – 75 or more children come up for blessing.  Father asked two deacons to assist at the mass, and the blessings, but still it is not uncommon for us to sing 5 – 7 versus of the recessional hymn.

One Tuesday, I fondly recall, the first child up the aisle was a toddler, walking in that wobbly toddler way, with both arms held up high for balance.  And when the tiny little girl reached the front of the center aisle, alone, she stopped, put her arms down at her side, and bowed her head --- a little angel waiting for God’s blessing.

I cry every Tuesday.  Oh sometimes tears begin as I receive Communion and perceive God’s presence, but my tears always flow at the end, in response to the kids’ quiet enthusiasm and smiles as afterward they walk back to their parents.

You know I’ve written of late about how God talks to us, but on Tuesdays I see how He doesn’t need words, just actions.  This week because I am in Arizona I will miss my parish Tuesday noon mass and seeing the kids.  And I’ll miss crying; I mean I will really MISS crying, at seeing God so love His children.

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Well, almost.  Today at the Thanksgiving Day mass I attended, three young boys were called up to the altar after the Gospel.  Dressed in black, they looked like little ninjas.  I didn’t know what was going on.  But the priest prayed over them, sprinkled them with holy water, and then they put on the white surplus over their heads --- they were newly blessed altar boys.  And they all turned to face us, hands folded, and with beaming smiles.  And all applauded --- and yeh, I kinda shed a tear.  More blessings, just when I needed them. 

Ring-Ring, God Calling

I know I’ve written a few posts in recent months (including that last one) about listening for God’s call, and making a difference in this world with our lives.  I mentioned how (of course) He calls in that small, still voice, and how He sometimes uses the written word (Scripture or otherwise) to speak to us, and sometimes He even calls us through the people we meet.  But I guess, as I was reminded last night, that perhaps if you aren’t getting it from all these other sources, He may just pick up the phone and call….

It was a dreary day, yesterday, the first snow of the season, and after my usual Saturday breakfast with a friend, I just hung around the house all day, watching the snow fall.  So I guess I wasn’t surprised when the phone rang at about 7PM and I was told that, with the weather, people were having difficulty getting to the adoration chapel, so it was being closed for the night.  My usual midnight adoration hours were cancelled.  (I took this picture out my back door, of the snow-laden branches almost touching the ground around my deck.)

I sat down on the living room couch and said my usual night prayers, and read some meditations, but even as I looked up at the crucifix on the wall, well, I felt we just weren’t connecting.  And as I took out my binder to write my end-of-day thoughts on what I had accomplished this day, I found myself looking at a blank page.  What a wasted day.  And so I arose and considered my plans for the rest of this quiet evening.  …. Um, did I say the rest of MY plans?

At about 8PM the phone rang again:  “Tom, this is Kaye.  I’m up north and I just spoke with Deb.  Her dad’s been rushed to the hospital, dying; she’s a wreck, and she’s afraid to drive in this weather in her condition.”  (You may remember Deb from my post last Christmas, titled: Christmas Dinner at McDonalds.  That day Deb could reach no one else that Christmas morning as her mother was rushed to the hospital, dying, and so she called me, and I spent Christmas day with her mom and family until the end.)  

And so it was that I called Deb: “I’m just printing out directions to your house, and then to the hospital.  I’ll be over in about a half hour to take you there.”  Between her sobs Deb insisted the weather was too bad, and I shouldn’t come.  “Wait a minute,” I responded.  “God cancelled my visit with Him at His house this evening for a reason.  Obviously it must be because He had something more important for me to do.  Are you going to argue with God?”  She laughed at that.  I think that was a good sign.

The roads were pretty bad, driving through the 7 or 8 inches of snow we had, and the plow trucks rushing to their jobs threw up huge gobs of slush onto the windshield.  And so of course my wipers decided to go into one of those brrk-brrk-brrk, screeeech; brrk-brrk-brrk, screech modes, just pushing the slop around in my line of sight.  Looking for the street to turn on to reach Deb’s house, I realized that all the signs were covered in snow --- you could read none of them.  This was going to be fun.

Deb was still a wreck when I reached her house; she was on the phone with her sister, who had reached the hospital.  Things were very bad.  I made her put her coat on and led her to my car, even as she continued to talk to her sister, and tell her we were on the way.  We traveled the highways, expressways, major roads, and then dark two-lane roads through the countryside, where well over a foot of snow had fallen.  We passed many cars in the ditch, but squinted on, trying to see our way through the twisting winding roads, in the middle of nowhere.  We finally reached the remote hospital over an hour later, surprising the Emergency Entrance security guards: “No one’s out tonight; why are you here?”  They gave us passes and we rushed to her dad’s room.  He had died five minutes before we arrived.

Deb’s sister and brother and their spouses were there, and you can guess the scene.  It was a difficult time.  The hospital had called a priest, who arrived about a half hour after us, and he administered the last rites, and led us in prayer.  He and the hospital staff were most caring people, even as they were that day Deb’s mom had died nearly a year ago.  We waited for their brother to arrive; he lived in Grand Rapids, across the state, and normally a 3-hour drive away.  But not tonight.  We prayed, talked about dad and mom, and the good times and memories.  And we knew Deb’s mom was once again yelling: “Paul, get over here!”  And he was!

After a couple of hours, the normal shut-down events of a body began occurring, and the room became uncomfortable to stay in, and so the family called the still-distant brother and all agreed to call it a night.  We said one final good-by, and headed home.

While Deb was on the phone with the funeral parlor, I turned out of the parking lot and began the long drive home; the snow still fell heavily.  And it took all of about 3 minutes for me to peer into the total darkness ahead of me and say:  “This isn’t right.   I’m lost,” and so I stopped in the middle of the road --- the only car and only lights in any direction.  After about 5 minutes Deb finished her conversation with the funeral home, and asked her phone for directions to take us home.  It directed me to make an immediate u-turn.  I guess I wasn’t surprised.  The voice from the phone kept directing us to turn this way or that way at some street up ahead --- as if we could read any of the snow-covered street signs.  But an hour or so later, we finally reached Deb’s house again, even as her brother was arriving from his trek across the state.  It was a good ending to the night.  (And those previous snarky comments I may have made on a post or two in the past, about how “I don’t need no stinking iphone apps”--- I may go back and erase them.  If not for those directions to get us home I probably would have wandered around until I ran out of gas, or into some farmer’s field.  It was a most useful device.)

It was after 2AM when I finally approached my home street, about the normal time for my coming home from adoration.  Yes, God had a better plan for me.  And as I looked ahead, the clouds parted in the sky in right front of me, and I could clearly see the full moon, smiling down.  Now THAT was a good ending to this night.

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As I drove to mass this morning, the sun was shining brightly, and all the trees and every single branch were covered with a heavy coating of snow.  It was like looking at heaven.  I thought to take a picture of the beautiful scenery, but I figured there are plenty of those pictures around today.  Instead I thought I’d include this picture, to remind me that today is just another day:

I went to the closet this morning and grabbed a handful of gloves --- it’s time, I guess, and putting them on the counter, this is what I saw:  six left-handed gloves.  Not a single right-handed one.  Sheesh!  Yep, this was going to be just another one of those days.

But as I write this, I have 40 hours until I take off to Phoenix and Thanksgiving with my nieces.  And I realize how I have so very much to be thankful for. 

I think I’ll leave the gloves at home.