My husband's bil has been fighting cancer for about five years. At first it looked like he might have it beat, but as is so often the case with cancer, it was still there, waiting for the right time to make a sneak attack. I'm not being flippant. That's the way it looks to me. He passed away a couple weeks ago, and we had his funeral last weekend. Tim and I drove north with two of his brothers and left the girls at home.

We were able to stay with his oldest brother and his wife in their cabin in the mountains. I always come back from there feeling as though I've touched heaven. His brother said he figures when he dies he won't have to go anywhere. Love his attitude. In spite of us gathering together to bury his bil, it was a good visit. All Tim's siblings (minus two) were there so there was a lot of visiting, eating, singing and reminiscing. We had a couple great conversations about life and all those big ideas.

On the other hand, it was a difficult weekend. Tom (bil) left behind his wife (Tim's sister) of 34 years and a son and his new wife. Tim's sister and her dh not only lived together, they worked together, built their business together, built their house together. Everything. She is going to be so alone. Such a helpless feeling knowing what she's going through and realizing how little you can really do. She had a lot of support the last couple weeks, but that will fade away. She does have a very active church group, and I hope they're there for her. The only family is the brother we stayed with. I can't even try to imagine what it feels like because it frightens me - being alone.

I have never attended a funeral like this one. After briefly talking about Tom's life, they spent the rest of the time telling everyone how they must accept Jesus as their savior; how nothing would make Tom happier than to know people turned to the Lord during his funeral; how the only way to paradise - if we ever want to see Tom again - is to accept Jesus. Then they asked us to pray 'the prayer'! We were preached to. Then the minister said if anyone accepted the Lord, to please let someone know so they could keep track. Keep track?

It bothered me - which probably says I have a big problem - which I do. We went there to celebrate Tom's life, not to be evangelized. It seemed that we were a captive audience and they took advantage of it. I felt offended. I don't like feeling that way. It was not guilt. It made me angry. But I don't want to feel angry towards anyone. I want to let people live the way they need to, wherever they are on their journey. It should not offend me. So I left the funeral realizing I still have such a very, very long way to go. For every two steps I take forward, I take one back. Or maybe three back. Alas.

So I've been pondering death, heaven, hell, salvation. Basically, driving myself nuts, as usual. I walked away from that funeral believing less than when I walked in. Not what the people in that church wanted. I would sure disappoint them.

How sad it must be to die believing that some people, family, friends, that you love dearly, you will never see again because they will be in hell. Just how depressing.

We are taking the girls on a short trip tomorrow, probably just one or two nights. The girls are so excited to be getting away; truthfully, Tim and I are pretty excited, too.

My little girls are growing up. This has been a big weekend for them; one they've been looking forward to all school year. Aren't they sweet? Just a very biased mom here. Hmmm... the picture doesn't look right now that I've shrunk it. Oh well. They looked beautiful, they acted beautifully, they had a very special time. Fr. Bruno, our Tanzanian priest said Mass. He had all the First Communicants come up around the altar for the homily; he got down on their level to talk to them. Then during the Consecration, he again had the children come up and kneel around the altar. B.G. and Abby (B.G. is on the left, Abby on the right) volunteered to distribute and pick up collection baskets, a task they took very seriously. They children did the readings, prayers of the faithful and took the gifts to the altar. After Mass they went back up front and sang a song. Very sweet. The chidren are able to be so much more involved than back in my day. After Mass there was a reception in the church hall. Rachael's fiance was here this weekend, and he joined us as well as Hannah's boyfriend. Neither one of them are religious, but were willing to come along. I appreciated that.

Helping prepare them for First Communion and Reconciliation this year proved to be a struggle for me. I started off the school year saying, okay, if I'm catechizing my children, I need to believe what I'm teaching. So I went through this period of faking it. I fake it by saying 'I believe', 'this is the truth' when down inside of me I don't believe. Made me depressed. So I stopped. Put up the catechism (they get a little bit at RE) and just started reading stories. Spiritual stories, stories of justice and love. And just talked to them about love, justice, etc. No dogma, doctrince. I'm just not good at pretending. I can say, the church teaches this, but I can't say I believe this. I do share with them what I believe - just not doctrine so much. And I do love the traditions, the connections that I feel to all other Catholics out there, past and present. I love the liturgy. I'm not sure what I believe; if pressed, right now I would have to say I probably don't believe in the traditional understanding of the Eucahrist. I'm working on my own belief, what I can say 'yes' to. Oh well. Enough of all that for now.

Rachael and Dan came by so I will go talk to themf or a while.

Defeating Anger and Resentment

I've made some progress in getting the best of anger, resentment, bad feelings especially with my mother-in-law and my sister. Long stories there, and ones best left alone. Anyway, I always tried to bury anger and ignore it, but it was always there under the surface, seething, waiting for the right moment to boil to the surface. Finally, I just wallowed in that anger for a while: talked about it, wrote about it, worked through it, and finally, almost, have put it to rest. I've made my peace with my sister and my m-i-l. They are who they are, and I need to work on myself. Occasionally, something comes up that sparks those feelings, but I'm pretty good at looking at them head on and dealing with it.

But, there is this event, this thing, these certain people, that I have not been successful in any way with putting the resentment to rest. It's the one thing that haunts my conscience, slowly tears away at my peace. I know it, I know what it is, I see it, but Good God, I'm having a hard time getting over it. It involves what were a couple of very, very close friends, a son of one, a daughter of another, and my oldest daughter. I won't say very much out of respect for my daughter other than to say it involved abuse and betrayal of the worse kind. My daughter spent a year working with a therapist, and I still see so many unresolved issues that stem from this past event. Even worse than the abuse, was the betrayal of her very closest friend. It truly tore her apart, and she's still trying to put the pieces back together. But it's not the same. She is forever changed.

So when you hear the hardest thing to forgive or get over is a wrong done to your child, let me tell you, there was never a truer statement. I've been fighting this for three years. I'll do fine for a while; I simply don't think about them. But then I'll see one of them, hear something, and there it is again. Yesterday Tim and I dropped over at a friends and heard that the girl (dd's friend) is getting married. To the abuser of my daughter. I didn't think I'd make it out of the house. I was physically ill. All evening. Couldn't sleep last night. I confess, I want vengeance. But not really. I like to imagine it, but I don't really want it. Anyway, I hope I don't. It wears me down.

I think a lot of this comes from the guilt I feel. I introduced my dd to this family. I took her into their house. I let her meet their son. The son of a very good friend. A friend who was the most pious, most holy Catholic you could hope to meet. This family, I thought, could have been the poster family for what a faithful, serious Catholic Christian family should look like. Oh, how deceiving looks can be. If I could go back and change any one thing, it would be that day. But I can't. The damage is done. There it is.

Also tied up in this mess, is the mother of the girl, my dd's closest friend, the one getting married. Her mother was my closest friend. She was the woman that I shared the most with, opened myself up to honestly. When I shared with her my faith struggles, told her the questions I had, was honest, she moved away from me. She pretty much intimated that my loss of faith, my turning my back on Catholic doctrine was what was responsible for my daughter's trouble. Never could it have been the fault of the boy's family. They were such good, holy, pious, law abiding Catholics. But me, the heretic. You know. Anyway, not only was my daughter seriously hurt and damaged, betrayed by her closest friend, I also was betrayed my closest friend. Many, many emotions stirring around in this pot of anger.

I'm so ready to be through with this, over it. Anger tears away at your soul, and when it's destroyed you, it will start destroying all those you love. I know where I need to be; I'm just having a terrible struggle getting there. People forgive murderers, horrible, terrible events. This is probably small compared to those. I think I need to see the victim on the other side. When I'm being sane, I realize the boy was a victim of a sick, religiously fanatical mother. When I'm sane, I realize my friend was a victim of her own, big insecurities. I know these things. I know....

Take a deep breath, go outside, breathe the fresh air, take a walk. Let go.

And Now, The Bad News

One thing first, before the bad news. Last night at Mass Fr. Steve centered his homily around Archbishop Oscar Romero. Fr. Steve either has excellent sermons or really bad sermons; he never seems to hit mediocre. This one was excellent. Of course, that's just my very biased opinion. It reminded me of a prayer written by Archbishop Romero that I used to keep tucked away inside my journal. When I looked for the prayer, it was gone, however, I found it on my computer. I think I will write in my journal tomorrow morning, and I will tell my children about Oscar Romero. Sadly, they didn't know who he was. They can name all sorts of saints, but they didn't have a clue who Fr. Steve was talking about last night. I'm ashamed. Oh, and the prayer...

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.

Now, the bad news. Tim's last day of work will be April 30th. The prospects are bleak. Many local business have hiring freezes or are laying off, unemployment is growing. Several people he worked with have been unable to find any work over the last six months. Job prospects for an older, gray haired male with specialized skills in a field that has been largely outsourced doesn't hold a lot of promise.

Now the bright side of this bad news. We're okay. Really, we're okay. We've always lived simply. While others were getting a new monster SUV's every few years, I was driving my 10 year old Saturn while Tim was driving his 20 year Toyota PU. Instead of buying a bigger house, we stayed put and focused on simplifying even more. We enjoy our home so don't go out much. During the summer, the garden, orchard and picnics in the field satisfy us. In the winter, evenings in front of the fire with popcorn and a puzzle or a good book are great entertainment. The latest clothes, electronics, or whatever the newest fad might be, doesn't hold a lot of sway over us. We enjoy the simple. Also, we've known for some time that his job wasn't secure, so we've had time to prepare for this. We're okay.

Tim's got feelers out, but they're not feeling anything. He's eligible for unemployment, and he'll keep looking. Other than that, I'm looking forward to having him at home. The girls are looking forward to having daddy at home. And this is the best time of year it could happen, if it had to happen. Tim is a outdoor, nature boy. Nothing makes him happier than to dig in the dirt, and spring is just around the corner. He's looking forward to more gardening time and working outside. I'm looking forward to morning coffee in the orchard, walks together, time to sit and just be.

In the meantime, we're crunching numbers. and seeing where we are. Our retirement has taken a big hit, just like everyone else, but we have a couple ideas. By the end of summer, if nothing has come up, I'm going to start looking. Actually, I wouldn't mind part-time work if Tim was home. He would love, and I would love, for him to have the opportunity to be the 'on-duty' parent, while I actually wouldn't mind working. It's been quite a while. I know I can't get back into the field I was in, but I'm not picky and we don't need a lot.

And if I get to feeling sorry for myself, all I need to do is read the foreclosure notices in the paper or see the tent cities on the news. We have nothing to be sorry about. I keep all the homeless, jobless people in my prayers. If we all join together, in whatever little way, we can help everyone. Maybe just an extra can of food for the foodbank, or a kind word or smile. It spreads.

Happy News First

because I'm the type that wants the happy and good news first. Bolsters me up for the bad news later.

I don't talk much about my family here, but I wanted to write about something other than religion. I have five girls, ranging from almost 20 to 8 yr. old twins. I could fill up blog after blog writing about any one of them. This time, it's about my second oldest.

R. has always been mentally years older than she is physically. She knows what she wants, she makes a plan, and gets it. She is one of those kids that was 13 going 30. She has a sense of maturity that is in some ways more developed than adults I know. Perhaps she has an old soul. Of course, there are moments when she proves that she's still young, but then there are days when I prove that I still have much growing to do. She finished high school at 16 and started college that fall. She works part-time, is paying her way through school, has bought her own car, pays her own insurance and pretty much any extra things she wants. Can you tell, I'm proud of her.

Well, several years ago she met her 'soul mate', or so she claimed. Now, I don't really believe in instant soul mates, but she vehemently disagrees. She knew immediately he was her soul mate. For me, after 23 years of marriage, I know Tim is my soul mate. Maybe I'm just slow? At first, because of her age we didn't allow her to see him. Last summer though, I realized I couldn't stop her. (I knew all along I couldn't stop her, I just wanted to pretend I could.) By that time she was driving to work, school, making her own way, so unless I wanted to lock her up, she was going to see him. With or without my permission. Well, I'm not a parent that is all about control and proving I'm bigger or older or I get the last word. Relationships are more important to me; unless they are in danger, that is.

Tim and I met him last July for the first time. It was obvious that the feelings she had for him were returned. We knew he was probably here to stay and were preparing ourselves for some formal announcement. It just came much sooner than we expected. He proposed to our daughter last December. At the ice skating rink. He got down on knee and asked, "Will you honor me by becoming my wife?" The answer is obvious.

Our daughter is getting married this August. Yes, she is young. Very young. I was almost 25 when I married, Tim was two weeks away from his 27th birthday, and we thought we were young enough. That was us, though. This is another person. R. made up her mind. She is getting married. Whether her dad and I are there or not, she will marry him. She made her decision. Now it was our turn to make our decision. We could be those parents who stand their ground: you're too young, you don't know what you're doing, you're making a huge mistake and end up with months of arguing and hard feelings. Or, the biggie, he doesn't go to church, he's not Christian, or even worse, not Catholic; there is no way we will support you in this. Yes, I have several friends who would react that way. Oops, promised not to mention religion.

Well, that's not our 'ground' we're standing on. For us, it was a no-brainer. We will be there to give them all our support, encouragement, prayers and love. Dan will be totally accepted into our family circle. Cause that's the kind of parents we are.

The couple to be....



Don't they actually, sort of, look like soul mates? I keep wondering if they're going to get hooked - literally - but haven't seen any ripped noses yet. If you're so inclined, you could send up a quick prayer or energy or positive thoughts for Dan and Rachael. All couples can use all the positive energy they can get. I want them surrounded by positive thoughts and love.

This morning while I was sitting in my favorite chair, cup of coffee by my elbow, and all the children still in bed, trying to clear my mind, this one particular memory kept coming to the forefront.

The summer of 2004 was, I think, the lowest I ever got. Mom passed away in 2001; sister went mostly bonkers; dad almost died, spent 2 mos. in ICU, 1 mo. in nursing facility and I nursed him for 3 mos. in 2003; dh's position was outsourced, he was scrambling to find a position, and was showing all the signs of being depressed; everyday was filled with stress and tempers; I was worried sick about a daughter; my faith was a mess although I was still playing the game; my best friend had all but deserted me over my faith issues since I had become a near occasion of sin for her. Bluntly, life was hell.


One day I escaped to the orchard with a glass of iced tea. I remember feeling totally defeated and ashamed that I was so easily defeated. Praying seemed so useless. Where was God? I remember clearly saying out loud, "God, where are you? Where can I find you. The real you; God in the raw."

God in the raw. I never knew where that came from - inside me somewhere, I guess. It almost sounded sacriligeous at the time. Yet, that's what I wanted. Needed. God in the raw. God untouched by human hands. An unanthropomorphic God.

I clearly remember that feeling creeping in that something was wrong with me if I didn't know God, if I couldn't find God. People for 2000 years had found him in the church, he was there, why wasn't it working for me. It was my fault. My heart wasn't open, pride was getting in the way, on and on and on. But this time I stopped that line of thinking; it always made me depressed. I considered the problem. I wanted God in the raw. Then I needed to go where man had not intervened. Not church, not the bible, not catechisms, documents, encyclicals. No, no, no. Man was in the middle of everything.

What I couldn't see for a moment was the answer staring me in the face; and then I saw it. Creation. It was all around me. Trees with fruit. Flowers growing wildly. That was as close as I could get to God. God's creation. From that day on, I looked on God differently, looked for him in different places. I refused to look for God in books or buildings or someone else's answers. Ever since that day I have been trying to trust the answers in myself. Many times I doubt myself and want to run to another source, accept it without question, let someone else define my faith. When I do though, that depression starts seeping in again. So I keep moving forward.

Looking back on that time, it sounds a little hokey to me. Seeing God for the first time in my Santa Rosa Plum tree (which was probably altered by man to produce bigger plums). It was a start though. Laughable or not, it was a revelation for me.

Oh my, I'm a mess. Are there other people out there this messed up over religion? Other people whose thoughts are sometimes totally consumed with religion, faith, God, salvation, heaven, hell days at a time? I hate it. How I envy people who can take what works for them and leave the rest behind. Me, I've got to do it all, no picking and choosing for me. All black and white. If 'this' is true,then everything else is false. It drives me absolutely nuts. I drive me absolutely nuts.

Anyway, that thought kept coming back to me this morning, and I thought maybe it was for a reason. Something left to learn from it. I have now written it out so I can come back later and re-read it. And probably see how ridiculous I am.

I envy my brother-in-law the somewhat aetheist. Life is so simple for him. I know, I know.....

Back to my St. Patrick Day preparations.

Compassion

Do you see an overabundance of compassion? I see some, but I am also sadly aware of a lack of human compassion. "They messed up, they were stupid, now they need to deal with it." That kind of attitude. It's bothered me for quite a while, but with the economy in the mess it is, with people losing homes, losing jobs, not meeting monthly payments, I have noticed an increase in this attitude. "I would never have gotten myself into that situation; I'm responsible. People want to play, they need to pay." Why is it so easy in our pride to turn a blind eye to suffering and write it off as someone's stupidity, that they deserve unfortunate circumstances and misfortune.

I'm linking this back to my thoughts on original sin. Somehow I think this belief in a punishing God makes it easy for us to be punishing; paves the way for us to show our supposed superiority over others. Do exactly what I say, don't go against me, and I'll be your friend. Go against me, offend me, I'll leave you. Get on your knees and beg forgiveness and mercy, and I'll be your friend again. We're a lot like God, aren't we? Or is it that God is a lot like us?

Showing people who have made bad choices, used poor judgment, or just plainly haven't been 'as smart as I am' any consideration, kindness or wanting to help them get back on their feet is misguided compassion.

I guess I'd rather be guilty of misguided compassion than be guilty of no compassion.

I'm feeling down today. Sad. And more than a little ashamed of humanity. In my little circle, anyway.

On another note, my brother-in-law called and asked 11 yr old dd to spend the night with her cousin. Dd is ecstatic. She and cousin are the best of friends. But... there's always a but in things. But, brother-in-law is a fundamentalist, born again, evangelical, preachy minister. I ran out of adjectives. So, dd and I sit down and go over the list of topics that are off limits. No religion, no wizards, no spells (dd is still into all sorts of things magical), in fact, no fantasy anything, no dinosaurs (evolution, don't you know), no Obama, no, no, no.... What have I missed. Frankly, the girls would be fine if the adults would stay the hell out of it. But we adults have our hang-ups, don't we.