Suffering, Sacrifice, and Geese: Rest in peace, brave Boaz
[Hover over images for captions]"Sacrifice is usually difficult and irksome. Only love can make it easy; and perfect love can make it a joy. We are willing to give in proportion as we love. And where love is perfect, the sacrifice is complete." (Instruction Before Marriage)
I've
mentioned before how Husband Mike and I love Canada Geese, and so naturally, we get extra-excited 'round this time of year, what with all the nesting and goslings going on.
We keep an eye on the nesting pairs, paying attention to who's who and where they're hanging out, as well as listening to their calls and honks through our open windows. Because one couple, Boaz and Ruth (don't know why exactly we named 'em that; Husband Mike just started calling the female Ruth, from the Old Testament's Book of Ruth, so of course the male then had to be Boaz), built their nest within sight of our building, we wound up watching them even more than the others.
So, when we heard an enormously loud and sustained racket coming from their area late last Thursday night, we were initially puzzled. What on earth could they possibly be complaining about at 12 a.m.? After 20 minutes went by and the honking showed no signs of stopping, Husband Mike decided to investigate.
It seemed like forever before he returned, and it was with distressing news: a coyote had killed and run off with either Boaz or Ruth; he couldn't tell who due to the darkness. As he approached the area, a bunch of geese were paddling in the middle of the pond and honking; the source of the commotion. When he continued towards Boaz and Ruth's nest, he saw a large, dark shape move -- the coyote, who then ran away, dragging the body.
While Husband Mike described the scene around their nest -- feathers and down scattered in a large area just a foot or two from it -- we heard a repeated, plaintive "honk" drift through the open window.
The next morning, we were able to confirm that it was Boaz who died, and from the look of things, he did so while protecting Ruth and the nest. Three eggs were destroyed in the attack (two were cracked and one wound up in the water), but thanks to Boaz's sacrifice, three eggs remained and Ruth survived.
With such a dramatic example practically dropped on our doorstep, I found myself pondering the nature of sacrifice. If a mere goose could lay down his life for his mate, what about me? Would I be able to lay down my life for my husband if the situation demanded it? Would I have the strength to suffer so that others could live? I was reminded yet again of how astonishing it is that Christ did just that for us, His Church, His Bride.
Not knowing when the remaining eggs would hatch, or if the coyote would return, we anxiously watched and waited over this weekend, hoping Boaz's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. Fittingly, they hatched today, on Mother's Day.
Labels: geese, reflections, wildlife
Called to joy
Even though I'm
working 60-hour weeks, may possibly be coming down with a cold, haven't gotten out to exercise in goodness knows how long (
:::cringe:::), am pained by ongoing
evils in the world, and am dealing with a variety of volunteer-activity-headaches, I am joyful.
I know it's obvious to many, but it was only in recent months that I fully grasped that we can actively
choose to be joyful, no matter what our circumstances and situations may be. Oh, I understood intellectually that while we can't control what goes on, we can control our reactions to it, but it's another thing to
live that understanding.
This "ah-ha!" moment was triggered recently while reading the "Kingdom of Heaven" parables in Matthew's Gospel and the accompanying
Navarre commentary. In thinking 'pon it all, I realized we have such a blessing in being part of the Kingdom and that really,
nothing can stop it. Nothing.
And then on top of that surety ("But wait, there's more!"), we're given such an abundance of graces! As the miracles of the loaves and fish demonstrate, God always gives us more than what we need; the whole superabundance of grace thing. How wonderful that not only does God meet our needs, but does so in such a lavish way!
We just need to work with Him -- we bring Him our measly loaves and fish, then He takes and multiplies them beyond anything we ever could've imagined. Whatever we bring Him, He can take it and say, "Yeah, I can work with this." (Side note: I can't keep myself from picturing God here as a balloon artist who takes a bunch of disparate, unremarkable balloons, fiddles around for a bit, and then presto! Massively Cool balloon animal.)
So, I finally Get It that as Gospel people, we're
called to joy. And I'm doin' my best to answer that call, no matter what.
Labels: reflections
The Real Point Of It All
While flippin' through the November 2007 issue of
Homiletic & Pastoral Review, I was struck by what Fr. Brian Mullady, OP had to say in his "Questions Answered" column about the difference between Church and state. The whole thing is superb, but what grabbed my attention was his reminder that social justice is NOT the point of redemption or of the Church --
salvation is.
As a Franciscan, a Way Big Honkin' component of my Order's charism is social justice. You see it EVERYwhere in Franciscan literature, activities, and outreach; it's pretty much all we do in the way of apostolic activities. Unfortunately, we have a tendency to focus so exclusively on social justice and all its aspects that we forget that The Real Point of "living the Gospel" is To Get Ourselves And Others To Heaven.
On the whole (though there are
happy exceptions), we've become an Order of "muckrakers", who, like the Man with the Muck-rake in Bunyan's
The Pilgrim's Progress, "could look no way but downward, with the muck-rake in his hand; who was offered a celestial crown for his muck-rake, but who would neither look up nor regard the crown he was offered, but continued to rake to himself the filth of the floor."(1)
Yes, we must, Without A Doubt, clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and free the oppressed, but
we cannot stop there. As Our Lord Himself said, "What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?" (
Matthew 16:26)
Fr. Mullady excellently articulated this important reminder, and it's so good that I have to share snippets of it here:
"Christ founded no political state and blessed no one political style of government except that which accords with the truth of human nature, which is the natural law. Christ did found the Church, which is a supernatural society that begins here on earth but finds its final fulfillment in heaven. So the common good, the order to attain it and the authority of the Church are specifically different from the state.
"... The Lord did not die on the cross for any earthly purpose. Though he was often encouraged to take sides in politics, he did not. Social justice is the mission of the state and because the Church and grace favor nature and reason, Christ and the Church encourage citizens of all states to live in accord with a true common good. But that is not the purpose of redemption or of the Church.
"... Our Lord wanted to introduce grace into souls, which includes the fact that those who experience grace also live the life of reason and nature. It would not be Christian then for a Christian civil ruler to deny justice in the state. But the mission of the Church is the salvation of all, not implementing social justice, which is properly the duty of the state."
~ Fr. Brian Mullady, OP; "Questions Answered", Homiletic & Pastoral Review, November 2007.
Are you taking time to look up to see the celestial crown, or is your field of vision limited to the filth below? How can you hope to point out the crown to others if you yourself are blind to it?
---
(1) Theodore Roosevelt, The Autobiography of Theodore Roosevelt, p.246.Labels: franciscan, politics, reflections
Thanksgiving
It's the simple things that make ya think.
There's a spiffy little
Facebook app called "Thanksgiving", whose concept is simple -- "list the things you are thankful for and share them with your friends". You type your reply in a small text box, which, like haiku, forces an economy of words.
While not as sparse as haiku, here's what I plunked in The Little Text Box O' Gratitude:
I'm thankful for the Eucharist, Reconciliation, Husband Mike, the furkids, my Franciscan brothers and sisters, being able to pay our bills, having a job (see "pay our bills"), and having a snuggly bed to sleep in every night.
How 'bout you?
Labels: reflections
Worst. Franciscan. Ever.
That would be me.
Seriously, there are oodles o' days where I feel like an Utter Franciscan Failure. I forget to pray when tempted. Fly off the handle. Let myself get sucked into a gossip-laden conversation with coworkers. Procrastinate. Get pathetically lazy about praying the Divine Office, which I'm obligated to do, and regularly reading our
Rule. I could go on and on and on, but it's way too depressing.
I was reminded of my shortcomings
yet again last week, when I suffered through a wretched meeting at work wherein I and my fellow writers were unexpectedly -- and undeservedly -- subjected to a BashFest. I don't do well in defending myself when folks start slamming me, in a meeting, in front of others, because I never see that kind of crap coming and am caught off-guard. (You'd think I'd learn.) I wouldn't do it to others, and so I never expect others to do it to me. But, it happens, and it happened Thursday.
I tried to defend myself and the other writers (who weren't present, btw) during the meeting, but could've done loads better. For the rest of the day, I was grumpy and upset, and it only got worse as time passed. When the workday was over and I finally walked through the front door, poor Husband Mike had to endure Lots Of Frustrated Yelling from me as I vented and complained. I can't remember the last time I've been so angry over something work-related, and I was actually feeling nauseous from it. I knew I had to Get Over It, but the more I tried to stop thinking about it, the more it filled my head.
And then we had to go to Mass, it being All Saints Day. Because of my bad mood, I snapped at Husband Mike over something trivial as we were leaving, which of course Ticked Him Off. On the drive there, I silently continued the struggle to Get Over It, and failed. Thanks to me, we were both grumpy and upset when we pulled into the parking lot.
Great way to head into Mass, I thought. A second later, I was smacked upside the head with sorrow. I apologized to Husband Mike over my behavior and Inability To Stop Thinking About Work. And he asked me, "Well, have you tried praying about it?"
Duh.
Of course, I hadn't. In fact, it hadn't even
occurred to me to pray for help with getting past my livid-murderous-seethingness. Yet again, Lisa = Freakin' Dumbass Of A Franciscan.
During Mass, as we
sang the Litany of the Saints for the Processional, I choked up over the refrain, "All you holy men and women / pray for us".
Pray for us. Please, you holy men and women, pray for us. Pray for me. Pray that the Lord will help me overcome my stupidity, laziness, and anger, because I can't do it on my own. Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner. Please, help me. You know I'm an idiot. Without You, I don't stand a chance.
Thank God for the Mass, and for the saints.
Pray for us.Labels: franciscan, mass, prayer, reflections, saints
What a week
So, I
finally used some of my vacation time and took this past week off. Husband Mike and I didn't have any set plans; we were just gonna play things by ear, take things easy.
And then he started sniffling and sneezing last Sunday. And had a fever on Monday. Then came the aches, lack of appetite, painful chest congestion, and coughing. All. Week. Long. I swear, I haven't made as much chicken soup during these last few days as I have over the past 5 years!
Yeah, I could've gone out and done things on my own this week, but with Husband Mike hackin' up his lungs and looking miserable, my interest in doing anything productive or vacationy completely shriveled up. All I could do was rub his aches, plump pillows, cook batches of chicken soup, and run out to the store for ginger ale, Jell-O, and Mucinex.
I awkwardly tried to figure out how best to help him, because Husband Mike's a Stoic Iron Man who always soldiers on, stiff upper lip and all that, and has
never been one to complain about or admit to any physical discomfort when ill. Your typical "
It's just a flesh wound" guy. (I, on the other hand, turn into a ginormous baby when sick.) I curled up next to him whenever he tried to sleep and, when awake, I ping-ponged between the extremes of hovering around him uselessly, then attempting to give him space by banishing myself from being in the same room as him.
So, I guess you could say this week was a complete bust. No swimming, walking, or bird-watching. No short day trips. No ambitious chores done, no books read, no Rosaries knotted, no great things accomplished. A complete waste of my vacation.
:::sigh:::Or ... perhaps ... it was exactly how I was meant to spend my time.
Labels: family, reflections
Bonum sui diffusivum est
Usually, I don't remember my dreams, and when I do, the details are pretty sketchy. The ones I do remember are just your typical goofy, nonsensical stuff -- which is why the one I had a few days ago stands out. At least, I
think it was a dream; perhaps it was something I experienced in the twilight of waking and sleeping.
Regardless, it started out with me contemplating Christ being truly and really Present -- Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity -- in
all the tabernacles in
all the world. Then I wondered if Mass has ever been celebrated on the continent of Antarctica (hey, dream, remember?) ... then tried to imagine what it'd look like, and how much it'd all weigh, if on a given day you could gather up all of Christ's Body from all the tabernacles and daily Masses.
While pondering that, I was suddenly struck with an
overwhelming sense of being held smack in the midst of Christ's universal Eucharistic Presence. The feeling of love and mercy was
so incredibly intense ... it blasted at me, like music barreling out from mega-towered amps at rock concerts ... I remember thinking my tiny human self, in its current state, couldn't possibly handle it, couldn't endure it without exploding ... knowing this was just a
fraction of a
sliver of what it means to be forever in His Presence, which was flowing and rushing and radiating without end ... that from the nucleus of the Trinity, this Love had an
unyielding, relentless, generative urge which expressed itself in our creation ...
A second? minute? hour? later, I drifted off to a gentle, repetitive lullaby of "good overflows itself".
Is it possible to laugh while sleeping?
Labels: eucharist, reflections
Have Rosary, will travel
This past Tuesday as I was plugging along, prayin' the Rosary before falling asleep, a pretty firm thought came to me out o' the blue: "Go pray the Rosary with your mom".
Huh, I thought,
that's interesting. And completely out of character for our relationship, since we never, ever prayed the Rosary together while I was growing up.
We were one of those "Catholic In Name Only" families -- we went to Sunday Mass and I got all the Sacraments like I was supposed to, but that was it. The faith was something we didn't talk about or live in any sort of meaningful way. (In fact, I taught myself how to pray the Rosary as a tyke when, rummaging through the dining room cabinet, I came across my grandmother's Rosary and was immediately drawn to it. Mind you, I didn't pray it with any sort of regularity, but every so often, I took out my little blue
Daughters of St. Paul Basic Prayers pamphlet and tried to follow its Rosary instructions.)
This was also unexpected because I had a wholly craptastical childhood. As a result, the usual mom-daughter relationship never existed between us, and it's been an ongoing struggle to develop what relationship we do have.
You can see why this thought of praying with my mom caught me by surprise.
But, no matter the weirdness, I resolved to act on it because a few years ago I learned the hard way that when God nudges, you'd better act: Some months before my dad died, I kept getting persistent thoughts of "You should call your dad", which I knew I should do. However, my relationship with him was even worse than my mom's (see aforementioned crapulent childhood), and I had zero inclination to talk with him. And since he lived half a continent away, talking by phone was really our only point of contact.
So when that late-night call came from my brother, I knew at the first ring who was calling and why, and also instantly regretted having ignored the promptings to talk with my dad.
Anyway, if ya think
I was surprised, imagine how my mom felt when I called her yesterday about this. She was astounded ... and delighted. Why, of course I could come right over! What a great idea for us to pray together! And it
was a great idea.
The visit was brief, but praying together -- actually sitting down, pulling out our Rosaries, and
praying together -- was a definite step forward in healing. No, it wasn't anything grandiose; no trumpets sounded, no Deep Mom-Daughter Moment happened, but it moved us forward One More Step. It was, at least, Something.
Labels: family, prayer, reflections, rosary
Why I love Joseph
I've had a fondness for Joseph, the Holy Husband of Our Lady and Virginal Father of Jesus, since childhood, and so I find it sad how we tend to overlook him -- the third member of the Holy Family -- when discussing Mary and Jesus. (Thankfully, this has been steadily changing over the centuries!) It's also unfortunate that when folks do think of him, misconceptions (he was old, he was previously married and had children) abound. In future posts, I'll share some resources that address those misconceptions, and that also explain why he's such a powerful intercessor -- he ain't the Patron of the Universal Church fer nuthin'! :-P
But to start, I'll share how my Josephite devotion grew and flourished, since I'm often asked that question, along with why don't I have a devotion instead to St. Francis, since as Franciscan, shouldn't he come first?
To address the second question: Such a devotion is, in fact, a very "Franciscan thing". Franciscans have long promoted and contributed to Josephite devotion, which I'll get into later. Also, folks in religious Orders throughout the ages have had deep devotions to Our Blessed Lady, for example, as well as her Holy Husband, so that's nothing unusual. Of course, I love and strive to imitate St. Francis in everything I do, but it doesn't mean I can't firstly be devoted to the Two Pre-Eminent Saints of all, the Holy Spouses, Parents of Christ.
As to my devotion to Joseph ... Well, as a tyke, I remember always needing to find his statue whenever entering a different parish, and I'd feel discombobulated until I found it. Then I'd sigh with relief, "There are Jesus' parents, Mary and Joseph! Now I'm 'at home'." And it always bothered me when folks thought only of Mary as Jesus' parent, acting like she lived in a vacuum with Jesus being the only other person in her life.
Then in recent years as I grew in obedience to and love for our Holy Mother Church, I had a corresponding growth in my love for Joseph. What really "sealed" things was when I entered the Secular Franciscan Order and also began praying the Rosary daily. I began meditating on the absolutely pivotal role Joseph played in salvation history and his humility, steadfastness, and obedience to God's will (all Franciscan qualities, btw) ... and the love just grew. And the more I meditated on the priceless gifts we have in the Word Incarnate and Mary our Mother, the more I realized that we can't ignore the man that protected, provided for, and loved them with all his heart and every fiber of his being -- Joseph. What an incredible gift to live with the Immaculate Conception
and the Incarnation!
The man Jesus called "daddy" cared for Him, taught Him the Law and a trade, walked with Him, laughed with Him, and marveled at Him. Once Jesus reached about 5 years old, Mary would've turned Him over to Joseph, His virginal father, for instruction. Think about it -- Joseph truly was the man closest to Christ. Because they worked together every day, Joseph was the one who spent the most time with Him during His "hidden life". How spectacular is that?
And not only was he "daddy" to the Savior of the World, he was the husband of our Blessed Mother! Just as Original Sin came into the world through a
married couple, so our Redeemer came into the world through a
married couple. No, Mary wasn't an "unwed mother" at the moment of the Incarnation, nor was she merely "engaged". She was truly and legally
married to Joseph. A
wife. Jesus was conceived, as is proper,
within the bond of Holy Matrimony, not outside it.
Throughout their marriage, Joseph worked to provide safety and shelter to his wife. He acted quickly to protect her and Jesus when Jesus' life was threatened. He loved Mary more deeply and more passionately than any of us could ever hope to. He talked with her, prayed with her, ate the food she prepared, and supported her in every way.
One of the things I love meditating upon while praying the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary is Mary's Assumption, 'cause I picture that as a big ole family reunion, not just with her and Jesus, but her, Jesus, and Joseph. The Holy Family reunited! Can you imagine the joy those Holy Spouses must've felt to be together again? How thrilled Joseph must've been to watch Mary's Coronation as Queen of Heaven and Earth? His heart must've felt like bursting! It brings tears to my eyes every time (not kidding) I think about it.
So, please, stop putting asunder what God has joined together. Keep Joseph in mind when thinking of our Blessed Lady -- these Holy Spouses always lead us to Christ, and honoring him only adds to the honor given to God.
Labels: joseph, reflections
Sister Ass, Sister Body
"As Francis grew older, he regretted the harsh treatment he had given Brother Ass all through his life. Before his conversion he had pampered and spoiled his body, and afterwards he had ignored and taken Brother Ass for granted. They were partners, really, and should have supported one another on the Journey. ... Lately, 'Brother Ass' had become a distasteful name. Francis preferred 'Brother Body,' which was more reverent and indicated the respect that his body had won in his eyes.
"Furthermore, Francis no longer saw his body as something apart from him. He was his body; the spirit and the body were one. ... [He] looked at his own flesh and smiled at how compatible it seemed now. How patient and long-suffering his poor body had been. With an act of will he now made the body his. He called it by his own name, 'Francis'. He was one Francis, within and without." (Murray Bodo, OFM; Francis: The Journey and the Dream, p. 76)
I, too, am guilty of treating my body as 'Sister Ass'. I frequently think Dark And Grumbly Thoughts about its physical imperfections, limitations, and annoyances, especially since I've begun running again. But while out running today, I came a step closer to becoming one, within and without.
During today's run/walk, I'd planned on only upping the running/walking repetitions (1 minute walking, 1 minute running, repeat for 10 minutes total) from 10 minutes to 15. But I was feeling good and decided to see if I could stretch it out to 20 minutes ... and I did, easily. My feet, legs, and lungs all cooperated and actually went along with the crazy idea. "Oh, you wanna keep going? Well, OK, we can do that."
As I wound down with 10 minutes of straight walking, I was overcome with feelings of gratitude and amazement. My body, my annoying, totally non-perfect body, was working with me! It was adapting, responding to the demands I put on it, doing what it could with what it had to meet what was asked of it.
The elation from that realization was stronger and more powerful than what I felt when, years ago, I first managed to run for 30 minutes straight. Because for the first time in my life, I saw my body as Sister Body. As ... me. And I wept for the joy, the glory, the gift of it all.
Labels: reflections, running
Rosy ruminations
As I've Wanted To See The Danged Roses In Bloom at a nearby public garden for
quite a long time, Husband Mike finally indulged me this past Saturday afternoon (yay!), and so off we went to wander amid the blooms.
As we meandered, I thought about the rose in comparison to other flowers. I'm not dissin' daisies, lilacs, or cherry blossoms, mind you. It's just that whenever I think of flowers, they fall into two categories: Roses, and All The Other Flowers ... sort of like Mary, and all the other saints. Every one exquisite, beautiful, unique, and giving glory to God in their own right. And yet, the Rose has priority, just as Our Blessed Lady has priority.
And then I started thinking of all the associations between Our Mother and roses ... of how her apparitions are frequently accompanied by the scent of roses ... the Rosary ... and all the rose-related titles that've been applied to her.
So, I thought it fitting to weave some of
those titles (
more here) among the pictures we took. (And look! No fingers over the lens! That's a personal best for me.) Hope you enjoy them. :-)
Rose giving back to all the destiny of salvation
Rose soothing the afflicted
Fragrant rose of the heavenly court
Rose ever blooming
Rose ruddy in trampling vices
Rose white in purifying the affections
Rose of paradise, transplanted into this valley of tears
Rose in whose gentle bosom God was laid
Mystic rose in the flowering garden of the Church
Bonus robin picture: "Come, let us sing joyfully to the Lord; cry out to the rock of our salvation. Let us greet Him with a song of praise, joyfully sing out our psalms." (Psalm 95)Labels: marian, mary, reflections
Brown
Brown. I once thought Brown was
the most boring color, ever. Wasn't much fun to paint with in art class, except as an accent color when required. Always turned out crummy whenever I played with mixing my own colors (red + green = brown). Notebooks with tear-out construction paper always had lots of brown leftovers. And unless I was drawing tree trunks, the brown crayons stayed the sharpest, longest.
But over the years, I've come to love Brown. It's the color of earth, from which we grow food to live, and to which we return when this life is over. It's the rich hues of wood that makes up furniture, doors, and shelves, and also useful objects like broom handles and cooking spoons. It's the leather (or
pleather) of sandals that cushion our steps, and of bags that carry our belongings. It's energetic fawns bounding around in springtime. It's the unexpected delight of chocolate and the zing of coffee.
It's easy to overlook Brown, though. It's an ordinary, workaday color that simply goes about its business without any fanfare. You don't see Brown socializing much at fancy soirées, or posing in attention-grabbing advertisements. It's humble, simple, modest, approachable, steadfast, friendly, quiet. A neutral color, Brown "help(s) to put the focus on other colors or serve to tone down colors that might otherwise be overpowering on their own"
(Jacci Howard Bear).
Brown. Who knew a color could be my role model?
Labels: reflections
