It's Not So Much the Heat, as it is the Humility

Hello again blog-readers.  Well, it's Friday the 13th, and if you were of a mind to believe in such nonsense as bad luck and numerology, you would be quaking in your boots right now.  The numerologists tell us that, not only is this the one Friday the 13th this year, but the digits themselves add up to...13!  Oh my, we're all doomed!  Then again, you may start to believe it as you read the rest of this entry, because I'm in the mood to grouse and wring my hands.  So buckle up!

I don't know about you, but my faith -- or the strength thereof -- seems to waiver, and that causes me much distress at times.  In the few days right before I met with Father Bach (from the Bishop's office), I began to convince myself that I was acting foolish, and was totally unworthy of the priesthood.  I told myself that I was too old, too debilitated, too sinful, and too weak of mind and spirit.  I nearly cancelled our meeting altogether.  I was listening to the wrong voice.

But it's strange how sometimes I feel parted from God's presence.  The feeling was especially strong in those days before the meeting.  I would pray, or say a Rosary, and the words just fell out like names from a phonebook.  I couldn't "feel" what I had felt so many times before.  This presumed abandonment was strange and troubling.  It only served to stoke the fire of self-doubt that was consuming my belief in this journey.  But through the grace of God, I was able to find the patience to set those feelings aside long enough to meet with Fr. Bach and plead my case.  I felt better for having done so, and the warmth of God came rushing back, afterward, like the blood to your arm when it's "fallen asleep."  It was just like that, and it felt so good.

Thomas A Kempis wrote something about this (Oh, you knew I was gonna quote him sooner or later), which helped me feel a lot better about these moments when we feel parted from God.  He said:

"I have never known anyone so religious and devout who has not sometimes had a withdrawal of grace or felt a diminishing of fervor.  Never was a Saint so greatly enraptured or enlightened as not to be tempted at some time.  For no persons are worthy of high contemplation unless they have suffered some tribulation from God"

There's something I've learned about temptation, also.  It strikes at your weakest points.  I've noticed that a lot here lately.  The evil one really knows my hot buttons -- fear, pride, sloth, anger, and every guy's favorite sin: lust.  And these are the faults that seem to catch me off-guard every time.  It happened this very morning.  You know, it's kind of weird to be mad at yourself for being mad at someone else.  It's easy to blame the devil for your sins, but he only presents you with the poison cup; you drink from it of your own free will.  And then you feel like you've failed...again.

As I was sitting out on the porch, flogging myself for this morning's transgression, the mail came.  Among the bills and political junk was our Diocesan newspaper, the Messenger.  On the front page was a story about the upcoming ordination of Deacon Nicholas Rottman.  That's 27-year-old Nicholas Rottman.  Twenty-seven!  I'm ten years past twice the age he was at the trail-head of his faith journey.  In fact, I was a freshman at NKU the day he was born!  Oh boy, do I feel old and foolish.  Should I really be attempting this so late in the game of life?  Am I simply trying to rcapture time that has clearly passed me by?  I fear that another quote from Thomas A Kempis might apply to me:

Speaking as Christ: "There are some who are not sincere in their conduct with Me, but, led by curiosity and pride to search the mysteries of God, neglect themselves and their spiritual welfare."

I hope and pray that this is not who I am.  I search my soul every day, for fear that my motives in this are merely selfish ones.  This remains a struggle, and I humbly ask for your continued prayers for clarity of purpose.

On a happier note, today is the feast day of Our Lady of Fatima.  If you're not familiar with the miracle of Fatima, Google it and check it out.  It's a great, true story, which occurred not all that long ago.

Okay, that's it for today's sighs, moaning and weeping.  Please keep me in your prayers, as you will remain in mine.

- Dave

A Little "Face to Face" with the Lord

I stopped by and had a little talk with God today.  This afternoon was my first shift celebrating a Holy Hour in the perpetual adoration chapel, at our church.  The concept of perpetual adoration is for someone to always be in the presence of the exposed Blessed Sacrament.  Part of the reason this is special is because the Blessed Sacrament (a large Eucharist in a special, gold holder called a monstrance) is usually kept in a hidden area called the tabernacle.  As Catholics, we believe the Blessed Sacrament to be the true presence of Christ: body, blood, mind and spirit.  Okay, enough with Theology 101 -- you can Google "Holy Hour" to learn more.  The point is that today was my first day, and it was...awesome!

The main reason I'm mentioning this is because of what I found upon entering the little chapel.  There were four statues there (other than the crucifix).  There was a statue of Mary, one of Joseph, one of Jesus carrying a Roman soldier...and one more.  And that one really caught me off guard.

On the left-hand side of the alter, stood a statue of The Infant of Prague.  Now, ordinarily, that fact wouldn't seem very unusual.  And it wouldn't be terribly noteworthy, if it weren't for the fact that The Infant of Prague has shown up three times now, at times when I was beginning a new chapter in my life.

I first met The Infant when a dear friend of mine gave me a medal with his likeness, as a gift, when I had my tracheostomy tube removed -- thus beginning a new life, free from that burden. 

The second time he showed up was the day I first rolled into a church for Mass, after an absence of many years.  And I was wearing the medal my friend had given me, at that very moment.  I took his presence there, on that alter, as a sign that God was welcoming me back to the Church.

And now today, as I experience the power of Eucharistic adoration for the first time.  I think the little squirt is following me around!

Seriously though, all these "coincidences" have to make you wonder.  It's kind of nice really.  It makes me feel like I'm on the right track.  Just hoping this old engine has enough steam to get over Pine Mountain.  ;-)

I tried to get The Lord to give me a hint as to what was to become of my quest for the priesthood; but alas* he wasn't talking.  We had a nice long talk about it though, so I think we're on the same page.

Keep me in your prayers...you will remain in mine.

[Oh, one more thing.  If you like, you can subscribe to this blog feed.  Not that what I have to say is all that noteworthy, but at at least it will save you from having to check back for new posts.  The tab to do this is down on the right side of this page, below the archive.  Just a suggestion.]


*I like to work "alas" into everything I write.  It makes me sound like I studied Shakespeare -- other than in the 8th grade, where I put forth a memorable reading in the part of Tybalt.  Alas...they killed me.

A Wayward Christian Pets the Lion

Hello again, my (precious few) blog readers.  As most of you already know, I may be on the cusp of the greatest adventure of my life -- in fact, of a new life itself.  So I'm bringing out the blog to begin keeping something of a journal of daily life in my little world.  It could happen that none of what I am hoping for comes to pass.  Actually, in this beginning stage, it's quite likely things will all fall apart.

If my journey does continue, I want to use this space to write about it.  It will serve as a way to update those who are interested on what's going on and how I'm doing.  But even more so, it will be a means of catharsis, as I try to make sense of all the changes, decisions and trials that are swirling about like an F5 tornado -- with me sitting here like a trailer park.  If this doesn't work out, I'll use this same space to moan and grouse and drive you all nuts like I usually do.  After all, what are friends for if you can't lick each other's wounds.  (Okay, that's just weird.  I was stuck for a good metaphor -- but you get the idea.)

I will probably (haven't decided yet) detach this from posting itself on my Facebook account...if I can figure out how to do it.  As I  see it, there's no sense in shoving this stuff down the throat of people who aren't that interested.  So I'll keep my updates confined (as best as my ego will allow) to this blog.  I hope those of you who were in the prayer group, started for me by my nephew, Garret, have found your way here and are following along.  You guys supported me in the darkest of hours, and I'll never forget you for that.  If you're reading this, and aren't part of the Facebook prayer group, I'd be greatly in your debt if you signed up for it.  It's listed under "Pray for Dave."  There, you can also catch up on the background of this joyful event. Notice, I didn't say "luminous event" - that would be presumptuous.  (A little Catholic humor.)

While I'm here, I wanted to share something cool that happened this afternoon.  I was out on the porch reading a book, when an email came in to my cellphone.  I looked at it, and saw that it was an ad from a Catholic Supply website.  The ad went in to great detail on the virtues of a particular little book they were selling.  Here is some of what they said about it:

St. Thérèse of Lisieux began reading this book
when she was only fourteen years old.
She always kept it with her and memorized long chapters.
At this young age she said,
"It was the only book which helped me
for I had not as yet discovered the treasures
which are hidden in Sacred Scriptures.
I carried this little book around with me at all times."

Originally written in the 1400's, this little book
has grown into a literary giant!
It has been read by Catholics and Protestants alike,
by saints and sinners around the world,
and across hundreds of years.
The Imitation of Christ is beloved, studied, and quoted
by St. Thomas More, St. Ignatius of Loyola, and many more.  

It is rare to find one book which speaks
clearly and completely
to your entire being.

A book that can answer questions
you didn't even know you had.

A book that can give you solutions to problems
that have vexed you for years.

A book that can not only help improve
your relationships with others,
but also increase your peace of mind,
deepen your spiritual life,
form a deeper reverence for the Eucharist,
and teach you how to pray.

The more I read about this powerful little book, the more I couldn't wait to hear its title, so as to jump on Amazon.com and buy it. This book sounded like it was exactly what I need to hear at this moment.  It seemed as if the answers to all my questions might be found in whatever this book of wisdom was that they were selling.

But then I came to the book's title - The Imitation of Christ.  At that, I closed the email, put my phone away and went back to reading my book....

Can you guess the title of the book I was reading?  ;-)

Just one of those little moments.

That's about it for now.  I'm waiting to hear from the bishop's office.  Please keep me in your prayers.  You will remain in mine.  There's no greater gift we can offer our friends.

- Dave

Do You Trust Your Own Judgment?

A New Hampshire lawmaker resigned Monday amid criticism for suggesting to a constituent that the state ship people with disabilities to Siberia.

Rep. Martin Harty, a 91-year-old first-term Republican in the state’s House of Representatives, drew fire after it became public that he told a constituent that “the world is too populated” with “too many defective people.”

“I wish we had a Siberia so we could ship them all off to freeze to death and die and clean up the population,” Harty continued, according to the constituent’s account. He specified that he was referring to “the mentally ill, the retarded, people with physical disabilities and drug addictions.”

When questioned about the comments last week, Harty was unapologetic and told the Concord Monitor that he was “just kidding.”

Link to Full Article

You're thinking, this is just the ramblings of some crazy old man.  That's what I thought.  But who are we to judge this man?  We don't know him -- his mental state -- his history.  If we pass him off as a harmless, senile old man, are we not, in some way, following his lead?  Perhaps he is in complete possession of his faculties, and really holds the beliefs he espoused.

What's really scary about this incident is that an entire legislative district (or at least, the majority of it) saw this 91-year-old as the right person to speak for them in their state's legislature.  That such ideas could exist today is truly frightening -- and eye opening.  Was 1939 so long ago that we are insulated from the evils of marginalizing, objectifying, and exterminating our fellow man?

Then again, maybe he was "just kidding."

Is each of us guilty of his kind of thinking in our own small (or big) ways?  We see a homeless man drinking from a paper bag.  We fill in his life story in our own mind: he's lazy, a drunk, crazy, a thief, a doper.  He's not like us, and damn, we could never be him...we convince ourselves.  At least it gets us to the next block. 

Maybe those things are true.  I'm not suggesting we should give the guy our wallets; but compassion is free.  A little warm food never got anyone drunk, or high.  Whatever action we take or don't take is a choice made in the moment, and I certainly won't claim to know the right answer.  But I know we can't judge them, or turn away, sending them to Siberia in our own heart.

Say we pass a person on the street, and we just know they have to be gay.  Our gay-dar is highly tuned to such things, and we've got this one pegged!  Why do we even have a gay-dar?  What are we afraid of?  Why do we need to decide whom people are without even trying to get to know them.  Again, not suggesting you strike up a conversation; shoot, they'd be thinking you were the kook.  But we can't know for sure how a person lives their life, or how they got to where they are, so it's a bad idea to attempt a guess.

If we see a profoundly disabled person, do we talk down to them?  Patronize them?  Treat them like children?  I've been guilty of such an approach...and been the recipient of it.  We can't know what kind of beauty, intelligence and humanity is hiding inside that deformed visage.  Would you talk down to Stephen Hawking, if you didn't know he was among the most brilliant minds of our time?

Growing up, I had a friend who was...well, less than masculine.  I never thought of him as gay or straight.  It never crossed my mind; we were just best friends.  In the months after I told him that our family was moving away, we both went silent.  We didn't exchange a word, and there was never so much as a "see ya."  Our family moved and that was it -- I'd lost my best friend. 

I think we went silent in those final months because we were both fifteen, and knew it marked the end of our childhood.  We were both what you might call "misfits" in school, and maybe we each judged the other as a traitor for leaving us without that one connection.  Besides, we probably figured we could renew our friendship after I moved across town.

We never did. 

I learned something from him, about judging, about the value of best friends, and friends in general.  Then, many years later, I learned that death is not a "lifestyle choice."  You can't always choose who you are: you have to accept yourself "as is." And sometimes acceptance has unforeseeable consequences.

Wouldn't it be great if we could set aside judgments and treat people with the respect they deserve, at least until they prove they don't deserve it.  And maybe we could worry less about labeling people.  After all, our labels might be stuck to the wrong person.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that we shouldn't be too quick to trust our own judgment, when it comes to our fellow man. While we're wishing someone or some group was removed from society, someone out there might be wishing the same thing about us. Then...who's left?

Just FYI: I don't do well in cold climates.

A Dateline NBC Christmas Special

Remember me?  Yes, it's been a very long time since I took this blog out for a ride.  Lord willing, I'm hoping to be a little more prolific in the coming year.  Thanks for your continued support and prayers.  The following is just something goofy that started rolling around in my head this afternoon.  I have to give my friend, Gracia Zink credit for the comedic inspiration for this tale.

--------------------

[Santa lands on the rooftop...slides down the chimney...carefully lays out little Cindy Who's presents...turns around and...there sits Chris Hanson from Dateline NBC.]

Hanson:  Why don't you have a seat. Claus is it?

Santa:  Uh...yes. That's my name -- Santa Claus.

Hanson:  Mr. Claus, is it true you came here tonight to meet an underage girl?

Santa:  No! I don't want to see her or her to see me.

Hanson:  Can you honestly stand there and deny that you two have had an ongoing relationship for the past five years, involving letters, and intimate rendezvous at the mall? Do you deny that you were also here on 25 December of last year?

Santa:  I visit many children all over the world!

Hanson:  So, you admit you have a problem.

Hanson:  Now, is it true that the two of you discussed having dinner and drinks this evening, and that something really fun would be unwrapped thereafter?

Santa (Quietly):  But...but..I meant cookies, milk, and a Barbie Dream Home.

Hanson:  Ah! I suppose that's some sort of Internet chat slang. And while we're on the subject, perhaps you can tell us what exactly is meant by "feeding cupid" or "tyeing up vixen?" Oh,you are a sick one!

Hanson:  Why don't you show us what you have in the bag there. Did you bring co...

Santa (Interrupting):  I really must be going now! I have so much work to do.

Hanson:  You're free to go; we're not stopping you from walking right out the front door. Don't use the side door, the cops are....uh, I mean, yes you're free to leave, Claus.

[Santa lay a finger beside his jolly red nose as he flew up the chimney in a flash. He mounted his sleigh and, as he flew off into the night, he called out, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night...I didn't think I was doing anything wroooooooooong......"]