My wife and I were visiting the credit union yesterday to refinance our car at a lower rate and we discovered something.
In 2005 our credit rating was over 800 and when our credit rating was examined yesterday it was in the high 700's. The culprit? We actually paid off and CLOSED several accounts and apparently paying off credit cards and closing accounts is NOT good for your credit rating! The loan officer told us it was actually better to keep a number of accounts open and simply slice up the credit cards and then proceeded to offer us a credit union card so we could BOOST our rating by having another account. Amazing.
And they wonder why there are credit problems in the US.
11/19/07
Did you know...
Thanksgiving isn't exclusively about the Pilgrims and Indians and such and actually came to be officially established in its basic format in 1863 during the Civil War as per a proclamation from Abraham Lincoln.
The day, the last Thursday of November, was set aside by President Lincoln as a day both of thanks to God and penitence for the sins of the nation as well as a call to care for those affected by the Civil War. Apparently the President forgot to check with the ACLU before he put pen to paper!
The day, the last Thursday of November, was set aside by President Lincoln as a day both of thanks to God and penitence for the sins of the nation as well as a call to care for those affected by the Civil War. Apparently the President forgot to check with the ACLU before he put pen to paper!
11/18/07
Construction...
Painting is on the way!Our venerable old building, built in the early 1900's and on whose premises St. Raphael of Brooklyn walked, is getting much needed repair inside and out.
Notice that the building is very unlike the design of a traditional Orthodox Church and resembles, in fact, a Protestant country church. Even the older members of the parish do not know why the immigrants who built the parish chose this design. Speed of construction? Desire to assimilate? Cost?
All we know for certain was the land in this area was first used by lumber mills, lumber being the first large industry of LaCrosse, and then was the area of town settled by Middle Eastern immigrants who were gathered together into a parish by then Bishop, and now Saint, Raphael.
The times have ebbed and flowed and for some decades the building was used only intermittently by traveling Priests when there was a need for special services in LaCrosse. Over time a hodge podge of various projects were undertaken to clean and maintain the facilities and now, by the grace of God and the generosity of the parishoners our special "old lady" of a building is getting cleaned up, fixed up, and gussied up.
Oh if these walls could only talk!
11/17/07
This week's sermon in advance...
Do I love God?
It’s a question I ask myself sometimes and it causes me to think.
I believe God exists. I believe God matters. I believe that God is uniquely manifested in the world in Jesus Christ. I know I need God and want God.
But do I love God?
I’m not talking about the emotional syrupy kind of stuff where people get together and sing pop songs with the word “baby” replaced by the word “God”. Emotions are part of love but they never define it, they are never its substance.
I’m not talking about needing God or wanting God. So much of our modern definition of love is about having someone in our life who can meet our needs or hungers, but that’s not love, that’s manipulation, and it doesn’t matter whether God or somebody else is involved.
I am talking about authentic love, the kind where those who love each other enjoy each other’s presence for its own sake, where they strive to grow together, make each other the center of their existence, and are incomplete when they apart. It’s the kind of love we all hope for, even for a moment in this life, a love beyond the emotion of a moment, beyond the meeting of a temporary need, beyond even the beauty of the erotic, a union as it were, of souls.
But do I love God?
I would have to say “I’m not sure, my reasoning has been so clouded that I’m often not certain what real love is.” If the truth was known it’s more than likely my relationship with God is 99.99 percent God loving me with very little in return. But I know I want to love God. And I know that something inside me says that it’s what I was meant to do.
I know that without a love for God my life, my faith, my religion is merely ritual without substance, like a marriage where everything is gone except for the routine. I know God created me with the ability to respond with love to His love and in its absence I am empty, I am less than human and all I do is meaningless.
I know, too, that my love is tainted with selfishness, ambition, an eye to my own benefit and the feeding of my never ending hungers. I rarely love for its own sake even though it’s what I know should be. I seek others out for my own needs and give back when it is mutually agreeable and even more so with God. My list of demands for heaven is long, my list of sacrifices miniscule.
Yet I know as well that God’s love is so profound that it can even enable me to love God truly in return. I can humbly ask “God teach me not just to recognize you, or obey you, or come to terms with you, but to love you” and God, in love, will work with me, overcome my faults, enlighten my darkness and slowly but surely guide me to where I can truly love God in return for the love that has been given to me.
I suspect in these days that God has many who claim to speak for him and act in his name, many who study him, many who poke through the tea leaves of time and history to discern his presence. All that may be well and good but is it possible that God is actually looking most of all for people who will love him?
I believe this may be true, and God granting me grace I am going to try.
11/15/07
A worthwhile article...
From the Heritage Foundation, an article on the positive personal and social benefits of religious practice.
11/13/07
November 12...
As I'm writing this is in the early morning hours of November 13th I can see a picture of my father on a mantel in my living room. He would have been 74 yesterday but he barely made it to sixty.
After my brother died I told my remaining brother that in our family we have "big hearts but not good ones" and the shadow of these two early deaths, my father and brother, has become part of our life. A co-worker of mine is in her middle 50's and looks like she's in her late 30's with aunts and uncles well into their 90's but we can't seem to make it past 60, not my grandfather, not my father, and not my brother. And I suppose that even though I've inherited most of my genetics from my mother's and not my father's side, the clock is ticking for me as well.
Yesterday's reading for the morning prayers in the Orthodox Study Bible was Psalm 90 where the writer contemplates the brevity of life and asks God for the kind of wisdom that comes from understanding our days are numbered (v 12). I'm trying to learn this because that wisdom often comes at a very high price, a cost our family has incurred not once but twice.
I remember someone once joking about how religious older people were by saying "It's because they're cramming for final exams...". But the truth is that test is often a surprise test, a pop quiz that comes when we least expect it. The only way to be ready is to live as Christ would want and make every day count.
In a family full of bum tickers that's more than a platitude.
After my brother died I told my remaining brother that in our family we have "big hearts but not good ones" and the shadow of these two early deaths, my father and brother, has become part of our life. A co-worker of mine is in her middle 50's and looks like she's in her late 30's with aunts and uncles well into their 90's but we can't seem to make it past 60, not my grandfather, not my father, and not my brother. And I suppose that even though I've inherited most of my genetics from my mother's and not my father's side, the clock is ticking for me as well.
Yesterday's reading for the morning prayers in the Orthodox Study Bible was Psalm 90 where the writer contemplates the brevity of life and asks God for the kind of wisdom that comes from understanding our days are numbered (v 12). I'm trying to learn this because that wisdom often comes at a very high price, a cost our family has incurred not once but twice.
I remember someone once joking about how religious older people were by saying "It's because they're cramming for final exams...". But the truth is that test is often a surprise test, a pop quiz that comes when we least expect it. The only way to be ready is to live as Christ would want and make every day count.
In a family full of bum tickers that's more than a platitude.
The Chilling Times...
We're getting in to the teeth of autumn up here in Minnesota, the daylight savings times when the sun is down by 6 pm and the cold starts to settle in. It's probably my least favorite time of the year.
I call it the "chilling time" because for a week or two I literally get the chills as my body adjusts to the new lower temperatures and my brain gets used to the dark. The brightness and warmth of summer is gone and the color of fall has faded and now only bare trees, cold winds, and early sunsets remain.
Christmas (Nativity) saves this time of year with its preparations, its lights, and its joy. But I can see how my pagan ancestors would make the emergence of the sun at the winter solstice a holiday. After all how depressing could this time have been in the wilds of northern Europe in the days without either lights electric or the light of Christ? It must have seemed a dark vision, like the end of the world.
An irony of it all may be that this warmer climate cycle we're in actually makes it all a bit more bearable. I can recall in years past being snowed in on Thanksgiving but today the forecast is for nearly sixty degrees with sun and so I can at least take a walk and get outside. I may even do some chores outside the house after work so we can get things buttoned down before winter sets in with a vengeance.
And set in it will...
I call it the "chilling time" because for a week or two I literally get the chills as my body adjusts to the new lower temperatures and my brain gets used to the dark. The brightness and warmth of summer is gone and the color of fall has faded and now only bare trees, cold winds, and early sunsets remain.
Christmas (Nativity) saves this time of year with its preparations, its lights, and its joy. But I can see how my pagan ancestors would make the emergence of the sun at the winter solstice a holiday. After all how depressing could this time have been in the wilds of northern Europe in the days without either lights electric or the light of Christ? It must have seemed a dark vision, like the end of the world.
An irony of it all may be that this warmer climate cycle we're in actually makes it all a bit more bearable. I can recall in years past being snowed in on Thanksgiving but today the forecast is for nearly sixty degrees with sun and so I can at least take a walk and get outside. I may even do some chores outside the house after work so we can get things buttoned down before winter sets in with a vengeance.
And set in it will...
Joys of this work...
This past Sunday I spoke with the mother of a young parishoner who just turned seven. She told me about how her daughter told her she was glad to be seven so now she could fast.
Out of the mouths of babes...
Out of the mouths of babes...
11/6/07
Disappointment...
My house is being painted at an achingly slow pace.
When the saleman from the paint contractor came to us he assured us that it could be done quickly and even in this cooler weather. And I wanted it done. I wanted it done so it would nice for my next door neighbor who plans to sell his house in the next few months. I wanted it done so that I wouldn't have to cram the work into my own crowded schedule. I wanted it done because in the Priest business your house should always be in good repair as you can be one phone call away from it being on the market. I wanted it done because I wanted it to look nice.
And I spent a good amount of money on it all, more than I paid for my first few cars. Now its mostly done but the upstairs windows are still covered with plastic, the window frames are unpainted, the basement windows are still undone as are some of the soffits and all of the facia. Yesterday it snowed, just a tiny bit, and that means time is running out and so is my patience.
I still struggle with the balance between speaking my needs and patience. Where is the line between not being anxious, trying to see the big picture, and trusting and making that phone call to get things that need to be done completed? The truth is it takes a while for me to trust. I've been burned too many times and that history has made my window of trust very small. People have a short amount of time to follow through before I close the door and when that door is closed it's more often than not nailed shut. I'm on the edge with these folks right now and I want to see some paint on some places without it before too long or I'll take that big step over.
And I know I need to be better than that. I need to be wiser, more discerning, less vulnerable to being jerked around by people and events. I hate the part of me that relishes the opportunity to send a nasty note and make someone's life a living hell by badgering them. I hate that when it happens to me and I hate when I feel like doing it to someone else. But I hate being played for a chump as well, of being marked as a person to whom things can be done and considerations not given because they won't do anything about it. And all of it has made this encounter with the paint contractor just a pain when I had hoped I could just send a check, wait a few days, and have everything handled.
Oh well...
When the saleman from the paint contractor came to us he assured us that it could be done quickly and even in this cooler weather. And I wanted it done. I wanted it done so it would nice for my next door neighbor who plans to sell his house in the next few months. I wanted it done so that I wouldn't have to cram the work into my own crowded schedule. I wanted it done because in the Priest business your house should always be in good repair as you can be one phone call away from it being on the market. I wanted it done because I wanted it to look nice.
And I spent a good amount of money on it all, more than I paid for my first few cars. Now its mostly done but the upstairs windows are still covered with plastic, the window frames are unpainted, the basement windows are still undone as are some of the soffits and all of the facia. Yesterday it snowed, just a tiny bit, and that means time is running out and so is my patience.
I still struggle with the balance between speaking my needs and patience. Where is the line between not being anxious, trying to see the big picture, and trusting and making that phone call to get things that need to be done completed? The truth is it takes a while for me to trust. I've been burned too many times and that history has made my window of trust very small. People have a short amount of time to follow through before I close the door and when that door is closed it's more often than not nailed shut. I'm on the edge with these folks right now and I want to see some paint on some places without it before too long or I'll take that big step over.
And I know I need to be better than that. I need to be wiser, more discerning, less vulnerable to being jerked around by people and events. I hate the part of me that relishes the opportunity to send a nasty note and make someone's life a living hell by badgering them. I hate that when it happens to me and I hate when I feel like doing it to someone else. But I hate being played for a chump as well, of being marked as a person to whom things can be done and considerations not given because they won't do anything about it. And all of it has made this encounter with the paint contractor just a pain when I had hoped I could just send a check, wait a few days, and have everything handled.
Oh well...
I guess that's why we always pray "Lord have mercy..."
11/4/07
I wonder sometimes...
It was an early morning (4:30 AM) drive yesterday, south on Highway 52 to Interstate 90 through deer country. It's fall and deer are in the rut, moving across the countryside at sunrise and sunset. It's hard to drive for any distance without seeing a deer splayed on the side of the road, the victim of a car.
Something puzzles me. Whitetail deer are swift, possessing of keen eyesight, an enhanced sense of smell, and the ability to hear a twig snap at distance. Hunters seeking deer must be stealthy, cover their smell, and often spend long hours in a single place nearly motionless. So what is it about cars, loud, fast, and bright with lights that seems to defy them? What makes this normally hyper vigilant animal such easy prey for something so obvious?
I'd like to think that somehow after more than a century of cars they would have figured it all out. And I have a picture in my mind of a bambi kind of scene where the wise old deer speaks of the dangers of cars in hushed tones to a rapt audience of fawns. Alas it is not to be and as the road descended from the prairies into the river valley on the shoulder lay a buck in full horn and strength, dead. Sad.
11/3/07
The baby who refused to be aborted...
An amazing story about one of a set of twins selected for abortion.
11/2/07
Every Orthodox needs this...
Here is a link to the book that should be on every Orthodox Christian, and inquirer's, shelf!
The complete Orthodox Study Bible can be pre-ordered now with a substantial discount from Conciliar Press.
The complete Orthodox Study Bible can be pre-ordered now with a substantial discount from Conciliar Press.
11/1/07
A radical idea...
Every year the exhausted gather up the remains of Christmas like morning after drunks and vow never to do it again. And like the addicts they are they will, same time, same place, next year.
But here's an idea, perhaps a radical one. What would happen if devout Christians simply opted out of our culture's notion of Christmas and practiced the Church's?
"Impossible" you say and I would respond "Why?" "Well, there's too much hype, to much commercialism, too much of that syrupy music." And I would say "Are you that weak that some advertiser somewhere can so easily pull your strings?"
Now in some parts of the Muslim world people would riot and kill off a few dozen people to respond to a challenge to their sacred days. That's off the option list for Christians even through we do have some folks trying to ride the "the culture is attacking Christmas" bandwagon to notoriety and financial success and ironically aping the commercial culture's desecration of this day by still making the season all about their needs. The truth is that if we feel strongly about this sacred season being hijacked by a morbid commercial culture we simply need to start actually approaching it as Christians and not Americans.
Start slowly by cutting down on the gifts and ramping up on giving to the poor. Decorations don't have to go up right after Thanksgiving and if you can't find your way to fasting at least say no to a cookie once in a while. It's about a change of focus towards the One whose arrival we celebrate and away from ourselves. towards the truly hungry and away from our own shallow cravings, towards the celebration of Christ and away from self indulgence.
You see the reason the holiday has been polluted is that for too long Christians have been willing dupes in its desecration. Oh we may gripe a bit when Christmas displays are up in October, or earlier, but we're there shopping with the rest of folks and buying in to it all. What difference does it make to complain about the holiday being removed from the schools or government offices when the true spirit of the holiday has long ago been removed from us? What right do we have to expect the pagans to be more faithful then we are?
The actual truth may be that we really do enjoy the chaotic consumer mess that Christmas has become in this country. We have come to accomodate ourselves, as we have in so many things, to the dictates of a broken world and that brokenness has become normal, even desireable to us in the same way that addicts enjoy their terrible pleasures. But if there is a part inside of us that still thinks something is wrong about it all, that there must be a better way, we should quiet ourselves and listen. Perhaps we may discover in that silence a still small voice challenging us to something better, something more holy, some more real about the season soon upon us.
That may make all the difference.
But here's an idea, perhaps a radical one. What would happen if devout Christians simply opted out of our culture's notion of Christmas and practiced the Church's?
"Impossible" you say and I would respond "Why?" "Well, there's too much hype, to much commercialism, too much of that syrupy music." And I would say "Are you that weak that some advertiser somewhere can so easily pull your strings?"
Now in some parts of the Muslim world people would riot and kill off a few dozen people to respond to a challenge to their sacred days. That's off the option list for Christians even through we do have some folks trying to ride the "the culture is attacking Christmas" bandwagon to notoriety and financial success and ironically aping the commercial culture's desecration of this day by still making the season all about their needs. The truth is that if we feel strongly about this sacred season being hijacked by a morbid commercial culture we simply need to start actually approaching it as Christians and not Americans.
Start slowly by cutting down on the gifts and ramping up on giving to the poor. Decorations don't have to go up right after Thanksgiving and if you can't find your way to fasting at least say no to a cookie once in a while. It's about a change of focus towards the One whose arrival we celebrate and away from ourselves. towards the truly hungry and away from our own shallow cravings, towards the celebration of Christ and away from self indulgence.
You see the reason the holiday has been polluted is that for too long Christians have been willing dupes in its desecration. Oh we may gripe a bit when Christmas displays are up in October, or earlier, but we're there shopping with the rest of folks and buying in to it all. What difference does it make to complain about the holiday being removed from the schools or government offices when the true spirit of the holiday has long ago been removed from us? What right do we have to expect the pagans to be more faithful then we are?
The actual truth may be that we really do enjoy the chaotic consumer mess that Christmas has become in this country. We have come to accomodate ourselves, as we have in so many things, to the dictates of a broken world and that brokenness has become normal, even desireable to us in the same way that addicts enjoy their terrible pleasures. But if there is a part inside of us that still thinks something is wrong about it all, that there must be a better way, we should quiet ourselves and listen. Perhaps we may discover in that silence a still small voice challenging us to something better, something more holy, some more real about the season soon upon us.
That may make all the difference.
10/31/07
It's nearly four in the morning...
It's nearly 4 AM and yes, I'm awake.
From time to time this happens, especially if I go to bed early, and over the years I've learned to make the best of it. My theory is that when I was a teenager I worked the 3-11 shift at a nursing home and because of it I sort of set my rhythm in a night owl direction and have never really recovered. In my ideal world I would go to bed around 8 and then get up at 11 and work for three or four hours, go back to sleep, and then start up again about 10 in the morning. Alas, there are no jobs out there with those hours.
So when the times come when for one reason or another I can't sleep through the night I make the best of it. It's a great time to pray, these hours when everything is quiet. And it's not a bad time to get work done free from the usual interruptions. It's even possible to combine the two by, say, washing dishes and praying. Since my wife is a sprawler when she sleeps it all works out. Prayers get said, work gets done, and she gets the whole bed. Such a deal!
PS - Apparently I'm not the only one up at this hour. My stats have just recorded a visit by googlebot slinking around the web and dropping in on my place to see who's home.
From time to time this happens, especially if I go to bed early, and over the years I've learned to make the best of it. My theory is that when I was a teenager I worked the 3-11 shift at a nursing home and because of it I sort of set my rhythm in a night owl direction and have never really recovered. In my ideal world I would go to bed around 8 and then get up at 11 and work for three or four hours, go back to sleep, and then start up again about 10 in the morning. Alas, there are no jobs out there with those hours.
So when the times come when for one reason or another I can't sleep through the night I make the best of it. It's a great time to pray, these hours when everything is quiet. And it's not a bad time to get work done free from the usual interruptions. It's even possible to combine the two by, say, washing dishes and praying. Since my wife is a sprawler when she sleeps it all works out. Prayers get said, work gets done, and she gets the whole bed. Such a deal!
PS - Apparently I'm not the only one up at this hour. My stats have just recorded a visit by googlebot slinking around the web and dropping in on my place to see who's home.
A little wisdom from Willow Creek...
Willow Creek Church in Barrington, Illinois has a reputation in the evangelical Christian world as the center, perhaps even the originator of "seeker friendly" churches, the kind of parishes you see springing up all over the country with subdued architecture and casually clothed pastors leading low key, pop music powered, worship.
According to this article from TownHall.com Willow Creek has done an internal audit of its life and programs and found that while its practices have attracted large numbers they have not created disciples of Jesus Christ to the depth they had hoped. Lots of people have come but large numbers have remained spiritually immature and unable to grow in their faith to a level where they could become as the report says "self-feeders", people who could take responsibility for practicing their faith.
Lest, however, we Orthodox become too critical with our "I told you so's..." and perverse pride in being small it should be noted that while we have it right that the development of true disciples of Jesus Christ with a deep and living faith is a priority we have failed to do that ourselves AND neglected the basic kind of open door hospitality that marks the "seeker" churches. Large numbers of Orthodox Christians are basically uneducated about their faith AND our parishes often have the feeling of ethnic clubs or insular communities where people have to jump through any number of hoops before they're welcomed.
In the end it's all about balance, being in that place where we are firmly established in our faith and a place of welcome for the throngs, and yes they are there, of people seeking spiritual solace in the materialistic desert of American life.
According to this article from TownHall.com Willow Creek has done an internal audit of its life and programs and found that while its practices have attracted large numbers they have not created disciples of Jesus Christ to the depth they had hoped. Lots of people have come but large numbers have remained spiritually immature and unable to grow in their faith to a level where they could become as the report says "self-feeders", people who could take responsibility for practicing their faith.
Lest, however, we Orthodox become too critical with our "I told you so's..." and perverse pride in being small it should be noted that while we have it right that the development of true disciples of Jesus Christ with a deep and living faith is a priority we have failed to do that ourselves AND neglected the basic kind of open door hospitality that marks the "seeker" churches. Large numbers of Orthodox Christians are basically uneducated about their faith AND our parishes often have the feeling of ethnic clubs or insular communities where people have to jump through any number of hoops before they're welcomed.
In the end it's all about balance, being in that place where we are firmly established in our faith and a place of welcome for the throngs, and yes they are there, of people seeking spiritual solace in the materialistic desert of American life.
10/28/07
The long way home...
The sun was bright again today and so we took the long way home on the Wisconsin side of the river, highway 35 from LaCrosse and then crossing over at Red Wing, Minnesota.
The topography is different on the Wisconsin side, less open areas and few areas for towns or substantial farms. Once you're past Trempeleau the road narrows to two lanes and snakes along the very edge of the river through tiny towns that hang on to the bluffs in any space even close to flat enough to hold a home. I've often wondered why people simply didn't build on top of the hill but apparently these towns were founded when the river was the focus of life and horses were incapable of pulling wagons up snowy roads. People must have quickly become content with the idea that their little place on the big river was never going to be much of anything people-wise and those who wanted to stayed and rest went up the Mississippi for larger venues.
The blessing of that is the scenery, which because of its inaccessibility has retained its beauty. The road hugs the bluffs and even at this late time there's still color in the trees mixed with the deep green of the coulee floor. Eagles have found shelter here in these places where even the best of plows are useless and the river provides a constant source of fish. Along the way there are markers calling to mind where a river fort once stood or a battle was fought in the days when there were no roads, no wires, and an amazing kind of quiet.
I like to take the slow road more often than not. There are enough freeways in the world where people sit behind their steering wheels grim faced and obsessed with their dashboard clock. What a precious and unusual treasure to find a road without billboards, a road that winds because nature does, a road without generic restaurants. And since I have take the trip I choose to make the best of it, to enjoy every moment and if I lose 15 minutes so be it.
After all, not everyone who wanders is lost.
The topography is different on the Wisconsin side, less open areas and few areas for towns or substantial farms. Once you're past Trempeleau the road narrows to two lanes and snakes along the very edge of the river through tiny towns that hang on to the bluffs in any space even close to flat enough to hold a home. I've often wondered why people simply didn't build on top of the hill but apparently these towns were founded when the river was the focus of life and horses were incapable of pulling wagons up snowy roads. People must have quickly become content with the idea that their little place on the big river was never going to be much of anything people-wise and those who wanted to stayed and rest went up the Mississippi for larger venues.
The blessing of that is the scenery, which because of its inaccessibility has retained its beauty. The road hugs the bluffs and even at this late time there's still color in the trees mixed with the deep green of the coulee floor. Eagles have found shelter here in these places where even the best of plows are useless and the river provides a constant source of fish. Along the way there are markers calling to mind where a river fort once stood or a battle was fought in the days when there were no roads, no wires, and an amazing kind of quiet.
I like to take the slow road more often than not. There are enough freeways in the world where people sit behind their steering wheels grim faced and obsessed with their dashboard clock. What a precious and unusual treasure to find a road without billboards, a road that winds because nature does, a road without generic restaurants. And since I have take the trip I choose to make the best of it, to enjoy every moment and if I lose 15 minutes so be it.
After all, not everyone who wanders is lost.
10/26/07
The tie that binds...
By this time next Saturday I'll be at St. Mary's Orthodox Cathedral in Minneapolis getting ready for my niece's wedding. I'm not actually the celebrant so I need to get dressed up nice and smile piously and handle a few things, but that's okay.
As I get older I come to see my age not so much in terms of the face I see in the mirror but rather by the transformation of those around me. I remember when my niece was born and suddenly it seems she's done with college, on the job, and getting married. What did I do in all that time? I'm not sure I remember but I don't recall it moving as quickly as it did. Time does move on and with each ritual, each ceremony, each event of passage for those around me I see its rhythms. One generation does indeed give way to another and some day I will be that old man sitting off to the side while the young folks dance.
Who can stand in the way of the flower of youth? And yet there is a sadness in this because the blooming of it all comes at the cost of many goodbyes. I suspect that jobs and life and the flow of things will one day take us all apart and all that we've managed to maintain through these years by staying close to each other will one day rust away.
It's just the way of things, so as I go through the work of the Liturgy next Saturday I'll sear each image into my memory, all the hellos, all the good byes, every color, sight, sound, and dream. When we are someday apart it will be the unseen tie that binds.
As I get older I come to see my age not so much in terms of the face I see in the mirror but rather by the transformation of those around me. I remember when my niece was born and suddenly it seems she's done with college, on the job, and getting married. What did I do in all that time? I'm not sure I remember but I don't recall it moving as quickly as it did. Time does move on and with each ritual, each ceremony, each event of passage for those around me I see its rhythms. One generation does indeed give way to another and some day I will be that old man sitting off to the side while the young folks dance.
Who can stand in the way of the flower of youth? And yet there is a sadness in this because the blooming of it all comes at the cost of many goodbyes. I suspect that jobs and life and the flow of things will one day take us all apart and all that we've managed to maintain through these years by staying close to each other will one day rust away.
It's just the way of things, so as I go through the work of the Liturgy next Saturday I'll sear each image into my memory, all the hellos, all the good byes, every color, sight, sound, and dream. When we are someday apart it will be the unseen tie that binds.
My Brother's Birthday...
Tomorrow will be my brother Paul's birthday, his 46th had he remained with us.
Paul and I are 14 months apart and when we were kids we teased him about being an "oops".
Usually on his birthday I would give him a call and say "Hey, you're old" and he would respond "But you're older..." , remind me of those two months when I was two years ahead, and we'd have a conversation. Over the years our lives took different paths and like all brothers we had our own lives but that call was something we had in common and would often be the prelude to a longer talk that helped keep that which knitted us together even though we were different people.
I remember thinking sometimes that time was on my side and I would have the last laugh. One day I would die and then he would, perhaps, finally be older and if by grace I made heaven I would look down and mischieviously smile. Sadly, it was not to be.
However he shines in the presence of God, Paul will always be 44 and time for the rest of us will march on. In God's eyes, of course, it's meaningless, all time is present. But we choose to mark our lives by it, often distress ourselves over it, and watch it pass by too quickly when times are good and too slowly when they aren't. I will grow old as God gives years but all is not lost.
One day, too, I hope to make the short leap from here to the arms of God and live in timeless joy. We'll talk then, Paul and I, not about age or anything else but rather in worshipful tones about life in the sight of God, heavenly things, and everything good and right. And we'll have all the time in the world to do it.
Paul and I are 14 months apart and when we were kids we teased him about being an "oops".
Usually on his birthday I would give him a call and say "Hey, you're old" and he would respond "But you're older..." , remind me of those two months when I was two years ahead, and we'd have a conversation. Over the years our lives took different paths and like all brothers we had our own lives but that call was something we had in common and would often be the prelude to a longer talk that helped keep that which knitted us together even though we were different people.
I remember thinking sometimes that time was on my side and I would have the last laugh. One day I would die and then he would, perhaps, finally be older and if by grace I made heaven I would look down and mischieviously smile. Sadly, it was not to be.
However he shines in the presence of God, Paul will always be 44 and time for the rest of us will march on. In God's eyes, of course, it's meaningless, all time is present. But we choose to mark our lives by it, often distress ourselves over it, and watch it pass by too quickly when times are good and too slowly when they aren't. I will grow old as God gives years but all is not lost.
One day, too, I hope to make the short leap from here to the arms of God and live in timeless joy. We'll talk then, Paul and I, not about age or anything else but rather in worshipful tones about life in the sight of God, heavenly things, and everything good and right. And we'll have all the time in the world to do it.
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