The Animals Know

Maybe it was my dad telling me when I was a child that the first thing he did every morning was look out the window. Maybe it was spending so much time outdoors as a child, and camping a lot as an adult. Maybe it was reading The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder, reading about how a Native American man clued Pa in to the coming severe winter, based on signs he could see from the animals. Maybe it was all of that, but I've learned both to love nature and also to realize that animals often know when a storm is coming. We may know, with all our science, but so do they, it seems.

I remember some years ago, a couple days before a hurricane was predicted to hit the East Coast, we happened to take a short walk in a state park Something seemed "off", but I couldn't figure out what it was. That night, at the hotel, it dawned on me what it was. We had seen no small animals in the woods, no salamanders, no rabbits. We had heard no unseen woodland creatures rustling the leaves, no birds tweeting or calling. When we arrived home, there were no squirrels in sight, as there usually were. It seems they had all taken shelter ahead of the hurricane. 

This morning, with a snowstorm predicted, and schools and government offices closed, I got up to nothing happening. I wondered if the weather forecasters had gotten it wrong. 

I looked out the window to see a lone large animal in a neighbor's yard. I think it was a buck. Since moving here, I have often seen a deer family, doe and fawns, acting at home, nibbling, and then gracefully running off. But, this morning, it was a lone buck, walking, perhaps cautiously. It seemed almost as if he was taking something in or figuring something out. 

A little later, I stepped outside to take a look around and heard a cacophony of birds. A whole flock was up in a tree, some joining them, some taking off, and soon they all took off in the same direction. 

And then the snow began in earnest. I don't know where the birds were going, but I think they knew what was coming. 

Love is the Only Answer

I woke this morning with a thought, and this was the thought, "Love is the only answer." It just popped into my head. 

Now, what I think of when I think of "love" is respect, caring, compassion, appreciation, and understanding. I might be able to think of other words, but that's a start.

Love - for those who are Christians – says: these people were redeemed by the same Jesus who died to redeem me. Love - for those who believe in God – says: these people, whoever they are, wherever they are, were created by the very same loving God who created me. Love - for those who don't believe in God – says: I will do to others what I would want them to do to me, and not do to others what I would not want them to do to me.

Love does not look at race, nationality, religion, or other beliefs or conditions, before being respectful of any one of the very greatest creation of all, the human being. Love seeks for all to be treated with the same respect.

Love does not look at whether someone has committed a crime to decide if they will respect that person as God's creation.

Love does not look at what they believe to be sin, and judge what is in someone else's heart. But love does call out injustice in order to right wrongs, out of compassion and respect for those being wronged. Love does not mean we will like everyone or that we won't get angry when someone commits an injustice, but love wishes change, not harm.

Love will be glad that someone feeds the hungry; and that someone visits the imprisoned; and that someone helps the homeless; and that someone visits those who are sick. Love helps whenever the opportunity and the means present, but without the opportunity or means, it still seeks to do no harm and to speak or hope no harm.

Love requires courage and strength. Love requires effort and practice. We all fall short at times.

But I believe, when all else is said and done, that love is the only answer.

The Robe of Christ

It might not seem, at first, that a poem about the wiles of the devil would be a positive thing to reflect on. However, it is in the seeking of guidance from the Mother of Jesus that Joyce Kilmer's poem The Robe of Christ has its value, besides the fact that it is written in a beautiful and interesting way. If the name of the author doesn't ring a bell, he's an American poet, who also wrote a well-known poem called Trees (which ends with, "Poems are made by fools like me. But only God can make a tree.")

To read The Robe of Christ, click here.

Community of Sisters Returns

As I read the story of these sisters I wept with joy.

Fifteen sisters of a sedevacantist community in Spokane, Washington have returned to the Church! These sisters - or their predecessors - were a part of my journey to the Church, a part of a detour on the way, one might say. You can read these reflections of my heart at my other blog.

Reflections Post

You can read a follow-up post about the Elements of the Mass at my other blog.

Reflections

It's really true! I've started yet another blog. It's called Reflections.

It will be home to occasional essays and articles that are a bit longer. I'll tell you about it here, and you can click through to it when you have time and are interested in a particular topic. This way I can keep things moving along over here.

My introductory post at the new blog is called "Diversity and Unity in Liturgy". It's a brief history of the different Masses and shows how each one has the four marks of the Church: one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic. If this is something you'd like to read, you can click here.

Happy Father's Day

Although my father has been affected by a stroke and dementia, I can still hear the friendliness of his spirit over the phone when I call him from across the country.

I remember going on trips, with my Dad sitting in the driver's seat, the bulwark; not that he was particularly large, though to me as a child he was...but what I felt was that I could always depend on him. There was nothing I could fear with my father there.

I remember going to restaurants or to the lumber yard and my father's friendliness with everyone he encountered, always trying to get those around him to smile and be a little happier.

I remember his insistence on my learning independence. He gave me a sizable allowance with which to buy everything from candy to toothpaste, movies to pencils, but I must first put ten percent in church and ten percent in savings. I must budget my money. And I shouldn't borrow money from him "just until we get home" because I should always carry my purse.

But I also remember his generosity, surprising me with an English racing bike for one birthday. And when I had grown up (sort of) and moved away, and was riding my little motorcycle for transportation, I remember his getting together with my mom to drive from Washington to California to bring me a car as a gift.

I remember as a mother of six active children (five of them boys) that the best vacation was going to visit Dad, who had raised two quiet girls and was living alone and yet would open his home to our happily noisy family. And during the day we could go off to visit Vancouver Lake, or go shopping or whatever we wanted to do, and when we came home, a delicious dinner would be cooking.

Thank you, dear Lord, for fathers, and bless them.

Why?

When things happen, do you ever wonder why? Do you ever ask God why? This had not been my habit. My non-nonsense reaction to the crosses of life has often been that "This is life". God allows. That's the way it goes.

I also tended to think it was morally wrong to ask why. But perhaps I've become more honest with myself. Yes, I have asked "Why?" this time. Not rebelliously...well, at least not angrily, but just kind of wondering, you know, like a child asking his Father, just wanting to know.

But every time that I look at my newly-blind son and even begin to ask "why", I have this thought. It's not something I think out carefully and come to this conclusion; it's just there, the answer popping into my head after the question pops into my head. The answer is: "To give glory to God." And it's accompanied by a peaceful feeling, a feeling that we don't have to figure out the "how" -- how will this give glory to God. We don't have to know that. God doesn't need our clumsy attempts at "leading" Him, only our cooperation with Him and, most of all, our love.

The Present

I was writing a letter this morning to put in the mail box to send to a friend of my youth (yes, I still use the U.S. Postal Service). After writing the following paragraph I decided to share it here at my blog also. Although the circumstances are different for each of us, and although some people naturally live in the present and perhaps even need to learn from the past and plan for the future (so different from me)...I hope there is someone who will read this and relate, and decide just for the moment to live for the moment. Of course, I don't mean "live for today" in the "eat, drink and be merry" way, without thought for our eternal goals; but "live for today" in a joyful and peaceful awareness of the presence of God.

So here's the paragraph:
I need to learn to live in the present. It’s so easy for me (though not always so pleasant for me or for those around me) to try to live in the past and the future. What was that old song? (There I go into the past…saying “that old song”). “Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine…” I knew even when I used to sing that song at church camp in junior high that I had trouble living in the present. But since living here in our little apartment I’m finding it easier to live in the moment. It’s kind of funny. Where we lived previously we had an acre and a half, in a country suburb, with mature, beautiful trees. It was like a big park (a big small town park or a very small country park). And yet, I rarely had time to go out outside and enjoy the beauty, and when I was outside, I was usually seeing all the things that needed fixing, and worrying about how much the house and its upkeep were costing us instead of enjoying the beauty. But now I sit at my computer – with the balcony door open if the temperature is comfortable as it is this morning – looking out over the parking lot, but also looking out at deciduous trees and evergreen trees, shrubs and grass; with birds chirping and singing and occasionally flying in and out of my trees, right outside my window.

The Last Moments

I love it when someone says what I've always said - so much better than I could ever say it. Sister Janet, in giving meditations for the Mysteries of the Rosary, spoke today of those last peaceful moments between God and the soul. You can read what she says here.

Be Positive?

"Be positive" is an expression I used to hear a lot. There was a time when I read many of the books on the subject. Being positive sure beats being negative. But perhaps the expression is not all that it's cracked up to be. Why do I say that? Just had this thought yesterday: The word is not specific! Never mind that it may or may not take God and spirituality into account...Most people who talk about being positive do have God in their lives and do turn to him for help in being positive. But what exactly does it mean to "be positive"? It's hard to know.

Instead, how about identifying the specific "negatives" that are in our lives and applying the opposite? If we are fearful, perhaps we need to work and pray to "be trusting in God". We might look at how He has taken care of us so far, and at the goodness of His creation, as well as read the Gospels. If we are pessimistic...or scrupulous, we may need to "be hopeful". We may want to meditate on heaven, and particularly stay close to our loving Jesus in the Holy Eucharist. If we are gloomy, we can pray for help to "be cheerful". And perhaps read about St. Phillip Neri who was sometimes called the "cheerful saint".

Whatever negative thought patterns are working in our lives, if we pray for guidance we can probably find the opposite thoughts or virtues and focus on those. This might not be an overnight project but a lifetime endeavor. But we can always try to "be patient" and persevere in our quest.

Finding God

I know I seem to be raving about Sr. Janet these days...maybe it's just what I need at the moment. Don't know if it's what you need, too, or not, but I just feel compelled to share. This is about the unexpected: finding God in the dissection of a cockroach. Can you believe it? Click here to read.