Occasionally

Sitting at a round unfinished wooden table, I wonder what type of trees are in this garden and I wonder what type of birds sits alone on the limb. When I look upward a swarm of mosquitos can be seen flying in an oval type pattern. On the sidewalk beyond the garden, various pedestrians walk by. A woman with red hair talks on her cell phone and paces back and forth, back and forth. She does something with her free hand, her left hand. A yellow sports car speeds by. Another woman carrying a large shoulder bag walks by. A man dressed in dark colors walks by with a dark backpack surgically attached to his back. The pacing woman continues talking on her cell phone, and apparently her left hand is involved in the conversation. Some of the movements of this hand are fluid, controlled as if they were visual punctuating a point. A petite blonde woman appears and two little children follow her. A white four door sedan and taxi passes by.

The city is alive with possibilities and anxieties and the occasional melodic sound of a blowing horn. In this private garden, a fountain soothes the ears while the occasional flapping wings is a pleasant surprise. Here is a moment of solitude.

The leaves on the trees gently sway as a genial breeze floats by. There are all types of mechanical sounds to isolate and decipher. People keep walking by, some holding cell phones to their heads, others just tightly focused, staring ahead. Occasionally, a pair of eyes will glance into the garden.

A pigeon decides to stroll in the garden. Soon another one appears, followed by a third one. The leaves still move softly in the wind. The pigeon flaps its wings, flies to another part of the garden. It is searching for food perhaps. It’s little legs move it quickly across the concrete stones.

Across the street is the Church of the Epiphany. I attended Mass there yesterday at 4:00 PM. The priest spoke with a thick, foreign accent. I strained to understand him. He was a happy man with a big inviting smile, full of life, full of hope, full of God’s love. This morning I attended the 9:00 AM Mass. A different priest appeared. He was a corpulent man who once had a booming voice, he spoke as if out of breath in deep tones followed by a half whisper. The varying tones were oddly pleasant to my ears. For a moment I thought that this priest should have been painted by Rembrandt or any Flemish painter. For here was a happy servant of the Lord.

I look at the tabletop and notice some faint blue scribbles, maybe crayon or magic marker. My mind tries to remember the two homilies. What returns now are not the words but how each priest brought the word of God to life. Both priests were conversational, spoke in understandable English in simple words.

As I was leaving the church, I noticed a poster for priests.

On the Road to a Devout Life

I have finished reading Introduction to the Devout Life by Francis De Sales. My only regret is that I delayed picking up the book. The book is filled with insight and directions describing how to live a life of devoted service to God. It is a short book which everybody should read and apply to their lives. All the vices, which were present at the creation of the book, are still around and are creating havoc and confusion in our lives.

Putting the examinations into practice will be another challenge. Exploring our minds is often a little frightening. But taking time to study how and why some decisions were made, to label some activities as sin or not, to understand our love for God and his love for us, and to unravel our sense of vocation and service to God will make us better, more faithful loving Christians.

It is not my intent to provide a book review. This book does not need one. Modern life is one large print advertisement for the best life that money can create. The messages are often in conflict, our desires are often confused. Advertising creates a hollowness, a perpetual uneasiness as we wait for the next product which will do more, make us cleaner, smell better, look better. Sometime the uneasiness leads to sin.

Life is better when there is a focus. It is easier to move through each day when a goal is clearly visible. When our faith and belief in God are allowed to lead us, the journey is simpler. We know where we are going, no maps are needed.

This journey stands in direct opposition to all that which is modern, scientific, based upon consumerism, individualistic. The difficulty of this journey begins and ends with us and what lives inside of us. How and what we love are very important! How we view good and evil is very important! How we describe and deal with sin is very important.

When we believe in God we accept the knowledge that there are other believers. We must reach out to others for guidance and help sometimes. Doing this can strength our Faith in God. It is comforting to know that there are others out there trying to follow the footsteps of Jesus Christ.

Now, my mind is racing all around, filled with ideas of how to put the book into practice. Part of me is ready to begin meditating. My soul is trying to prepare a way for me to commune with God which can be integrated into my life and become an important component of my being.

Life provides many questions. Faith encourages me to enter into a time of serious discernment as I search for both questions and then answers about the best way to love God and to be of service to him and to the Church.

Sharing A Birthday In September

Just a couple of hours ago, I embarked upon a journey. I went in search of an unfamiliar building in an unfamiliar part of the city guided by hope and a vague sense of direction. I am not very good at map reading, especially when I am in a hurry and I look at two maps with “You are here” red circles on them. Of course I am going to be confused. Of course because I am in a hurry, I am going to use the wrong exit and begin walking the wrong way.

For a moment the journey is filled with a moment of cinematic fear and apprehension as I plot a new course and hope that my arrival time will not be inconvenient.

And so I walk along almost empty streets on a Saturday night at twilight, half wanting to stop and photograph the buildings and sky. And so I walk along thinking of St. Peter, St. Matthew, St. Roberto Bellarmine. My mind is filled with images of the pedestrian free sidewalks and thoughts of where and when to attend Mass tomorrow.

I often enjoy walking alone but I think that the experience is better when the sidewalks are alive with other people moving, talking, stopping, pointing. I was unsure of my route but hopeful that I would arrive at my destination. This Saturday night was filled with importance and urgency. I was going to a birthday party.

Briefly, my eyes did see people sitting outside a building, my heart realized that they were waiting for the shelter to open. I said a quick prayer for the women and children that I saw.

My sense of direction was correct and I did arrive at the building. Luckily, familiar faces were waiting on the street and I was happy to be recognized.

I was pleased to be attending this sixty-ninth birthday celebration. It was a small family event. I was honored to be there. An assortment of loving men, women and children were present, laughing, talking, remembering, loving. We were assembled on the roof top of an office building with an impressive view of the skyline. The U.S. Capitol was so close and dreamlike, the Washington Monument refused to blend into background. The sky was multicolored, beautiful, breathtaking.

There was something universal, something very inspirational about that moment. Each time we are lucky enough to share a birthday with someone we are sharing more than just one moment, but the combined moments of all the people who we have loved and who have loved us during our lifetimes.

And the heart of the sixty-nine year old birthday girl was filled with love and all types of gentle memories. She was happy to share this moment with her family. Sitting there surrounded by her children, waiting for the photographer to capture this moment, she was smiling and joking filled with little anecdotes and stories about other pictures, other family members. She was filled with so much love that it was easy to imagine her reminding them to go to Mass, encouraging them to go to confession, listening to them discuss their fears and aspirations.

She is good natured, gentle, and genial.

Pray for the Labor Day Weekend

Often when each new weekend arrives, several options arrive in attendance with all types of opportunities which will need to be considered before a decision can be made. Life is made up of opportunities and options. Faith requires prayer and meditation. Together life and faith can provide strength, power, hope.

Holiday weekends often involve anxiety as plans are created and finalized; as the weather report is reviewed again and again.

And as the Labor Day weekend begins, we must remember to take a moment to examine ourselves and how we live our lives and interact with others.

We must always remember to pray.

Survival and Hope

September remains a month of survival and hope. As the summer vacation season officially ends, autumn waits with many surprises. The temperatures might remain in the eighties. Rain might dampen a few plans. Hurricane warning may disrupt s few imaginations.

Often September arrives with such a force that even the most ordered life can suddenly appear chaotic, turned upside down. Anxiety can play games with our sense of perspective, our sense of reality.

Many diversions wait to capture our attention. School resumes, the football season resumes, the US Open dominates the news as tennis becomes the sport of kings.

Sometimes, so much is being covered in the media and being remembered and shared by our loved ones, that life can for a moment be a little overwhelming. Being overwhelmed briefly might be a good thing, a natural thing. Every so often we must realign ourselves. Being caught off guard might in some instances be good for us if it causes us to examine our hearts, our minds, and our souls.

In this modern age of technological wonder, science tries to explain everything in cool logical sentences. All impulses are rooted in some situation which have an explanation. Our lives can easily be explained. Our hearts are relieved of the restrictions of good and bad. Our faith is often under attack because empirical evidence is often ephemeral. Because pundits have a mantra of “being open and transparent” many people believe that their personal lives and the lives of their friends and family should also have that mantra. That mantra is both dangerous and deceitful.

When we believe in God, we accept a truth which may not be rationally, easily described. When we believe in God, we accept a mystery. Our belief does not mean that we blindly believe this and that. Our belief provides us with information for our brains and inspiration for both our hearts and souls. Believing in God is a workout for the soul, the heart, and the mind. All three must provide ideas and insight. All three must be involved, monitoring what we do and don’t do, what tempts and what doesn’t tempt us.

Every moment of our lives does not, should not be on display. Too much knowledge is a bad thing. Too much knowledge destroys the very essence of being an individual, of being human. When too much is known there is nothing to be shared, nothing to be learned. It is easy to become complacent, and arrogant. Knowledge easily obtained without work and discipline can lead to pride, envy, selfishness. Moderation is always necessary.

Modesty and purity are always necessary in our lives but they are neither fashionable or easily understandable by people lost within the anxiety and the mantras.

Double faults and Prayers Welcome

I read an article in the New York Times today which made me smile. It was about tennis. Tennis is one sport that I know very little about but which can easily hypnotize me when the ball is being smacked back and forth between players.

Apparently this year as the US Open began, many of the female players are having problems with their serves and having “double faults.” I think that I had heard of a double fault before, but I really did not have an idea of what it actually was.

Before this article I viewed the serve as just another element of tennis and did not search for similarities with other sports. Naturally, the author of the article compared the serve to basketball free throws.

The tennis player controls the tennis ball only during the serve. This was interesting for me to think about and to accept. And it provided a wobbly way for me to think about prayer.

When we pray we control our messages to God. How we pray is a personal decision.

Prayer, like a good tennis serve, does require both practice and effort. We need to give ourselves time to examine our lives, our hearts, and our souls. Each time we pray, it becomes a little easier, becomes more natural. Each time we pray hopefully we become a little bit better at it.

As a spectator I never really considered the idea that anyone had control of the tiny furry tennis ball. I remember my tennis playing days as saying a prayer to hit the tennis ball, saying a prayer for the ball to fly across the net, saying a prayer for the ball to land in the appropriate box. At no point would I have imagined or accepted the idea that I was in control of that fuzzy yellow ball.

As a child prayer was always a big part of my life. In the morning, I sometimes overheard my Grandmother softly praying at the side of her bed before starting her day, then there were prayers before each meal, and then, there were bedtime prayers. Also, occasionally special visitors caused special prayers to be said. The prayers were of praise, thanks, remembrance, and requests for “clean hearts” and “pure minds” of various family members. Widows and orphans were also always included. For a long time I considered praying to be beautiful, complicated recitations filled with familiar names, praising and thanking God, and a reminder that we all are sinners and all always need God’s help.

When a tennis player serves, they must focus their attention on the tennis ball. They must forget everything else that might be occurring around them. For a brief instance it is them and the tennis ball.

When we pray, it should be the same way. Our minds should focus attention on God. We must try not to be distracted by things happening near us. We need to take time and communicate with God. What we say is private, personal.

I wonder how many “double faults” I have committed.

Thinking About Charity

September has arrived. The schools have reopened for the fall term. The children have disappeared from the parks and streets. Sunrise arrives a little later each morning, but remains just as beautiful and inspiring.

Ideas, like emergency vehicle sirens make loud distracting noises for a couple of seconds and then disappear.

Looking down at the empty playground, completely almost completely covered in shadows, is that how a heart without charity looks? Abandoned, lonely, dangerous, intimidating?

Creating typographical and grammatical errors at seven forty-five in the morning is a difficult skill to develop. The brain and the fingers are rarely thinking about the same word. The eyes are constantly looking at the horizon, thinking, imagining, remembering.

Feeling the morning sun, warm against my face, my mind decides to be defiant as I try and remember something specific from my youth. My mind struggles to uncover distinct lessons where charity, and charity alone was spotlighted. Of course my brain rebels. The flutter of wings of a black bird taking off from a nearby building teases my ears.

My left hand scratches my face. The honking horns, sunlight reflecting from the still damp concrete roof of a building capture my imagination. The grinding and whirring sounds from a nearby construction site invades my brain. I hear the deep guttural rumblings of a diesel motor, probably a shiny heavy smoke belching truck with a hundred wheels blocking traffic on a narrow street with a slight incline.

Lessons about charity are not often isolated but incorporated within daily living. Sadly modern colloquial definitions sometimes add derogatory meaning to charity. Of the virtues and as a basis for having a life of social justice and fairness, charity is essential. Without charity love can not exist.

Lucky are those who can live with charity influencing their hearts and lives, who think of the welfare of others and are always willing to lend assistance. Our lives are improved when we move through each days using the different virtues as needed.

All the virtues are equal. All are necessary.

During a quiet moment, allow your mind to return to the past, to a memory filled with love and goodness, allow yourself to feel and hear all of the sensations of that moment, and allow yourself to say thank you for the memory, then and now.

Always be looking for new ways to create and to live a life filled with the virtues. Never forget the beauty of living with charity in your heart and soul. Charity creates the awe inspiring sunrise within us.