Showing posts with label Viva la Vida. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Viva la Vida. Show all posts

Monday, December 30, 2013

Viva la Vida: Kendra's Call, Part 2 (Sort of)

A while back I started this Viva la Vida series. In it, I have been highlighting some significant events during the course of my life with respect to faith and family. I have never set out to make chronological posts, rather a sort of mash-up of events.

Although with this post I am continuing the story of when Kendra (my wife) first heard the call (the call of the Holy Spirit, that is), it also is not an exact chronology of events.

But if you haven't read it yet, you'll want to click here to read part 1 first.

And for a little fun, all subtitles today are brought to you by the band Boston.

Can'tcha Say You Believe in Me


Patience has never been one of my strong suits, and I have never been comfortable giving up control. I don't even like sitting in the passenger seat of a vehicle very much.

After being strengthened in my certainty that God was truly calling me to reconcile my relationship with Him, and of course wanting to share this relationship to Him with Kendra, I made some mistakes that I think a lot of Christians make. I pushed a bit too much. Also, I attempted to "get through" to her by some of the same means that God used to get through to me.

These are 2 very big no no's. God doesn't push, He pulls. And since we are all unique, He calls each of us in unique ways however similar they may seem on the surface. Kendra needed to experience God in her own way, not mine. And I could not control that.

I very distinctly remember one night, praying as I was driving home from work. As I stated in the last post

The whole thing was taking a toll on our marriage. And why not? I was no longer the person she had married.

More Than a Feeling


I became very overwhelmed by my inability to "make her" believe. It was a similar "feeling" that I had when I had finally given in to God just a few months earlier - you know, finally surrendered. It was through that similarity in emotion that God reminded me that no one person and no one "event" had brought me back to Him. No, it was quite a collection of persons and happenings - and I realized that in some way, God used the whole experience of my life.

(More than a year after this realization, Fr. Timothy Heines stated in a Homily, "Conversion is not an emotion or a one-time experience. Conversion is a life-long process." I often remind myself of this in my self-reflection. It helps me from getting too high or too low on myself.)

But that night driving home, it was a sort of epiphany. I pulled on the side of the road at the Louisa Street exit in New Orleans. I told God that I realized what I was doing was not working, that I seemed to be making things worse not better. I told Him that I realized my job was to introduce Him to Kendra and to set a good example of the Christian life - that I realized that it was He that would truly draw her to Himself, and that I was simply one of many instruments that He wanted to use. I asked Him to help me to be patient.

Higher Power


I really meant that thing about "help me to be patient", but I guess God knew that would be a lot tougher task than reaching Kendra, because it was almost immediately that I saw a few small traces of His "working" on her. Little by little, we were having conversations about God that were started by Kendra, not by me.

While these were not always positive conversations, it was dialogue that needed to take place - and was assurance to me that somehow this was going to work out.

One example of this is the day Kendra agreed to have Brandon baptized. We were on a shopping trip to Target. I had been praying, asking God to help in this exact matter (the baptism). We had not done much talking during that 35 minute drive, but when I parked the car Kendra stated out of the clear blue, "I suppose you would like to have the baby baptized." I affirmed that was my desire, and she replied, "Well, I guess that's okay, but don't ask me to have anything to do with that." Agreed. Check. ("God, I trust you'll take care of that too." - and He did of course.)

The Journey


And so Brandon was baptized. Kendra was there. And now, she had revealed to me that God was stirring her heart to believe in Him.

I think about that now, and how difficult that conversation must have been for her. You know, no one likes to admit that they may have been wrong about something - about anything usually. Kendra is no different in that regards. I'm sure it was tough for her to bring up to me, but she stepped out of her comfort zone, asked what to do next, and when I left it to her to figure out between herself and God, well, He took over.

I said things were about to get different, and they were. This doesn't mean that they were always easier. Some tensions went away, but not all. I think much of this was my fault.

You see, Kendra began really challenging me in my Faith. She started asking questions - a lot of questions. "Why do Catholics do this?" and "Why do Catholics do that?" Well, quite honestly I began to realize that there were a lot of questions that she asked that I did not have a clue about - not a clue. That made me feel uncomfortable - very uncomfortable.

I thought that she was challenging my Faith because she was attempting to disprove it. My inability to properly defend the Faith blinded me to the reality that Kendra was earnestly seeking God, trying to find her way through the darkness. Kendra doe not do anything "on a whim", but rather researches everything. I didn't realize that she had begun her research of Catholicism.

"We drive by night. Nevertheless our reason penetrates the darkness enough to show us a little of the road ahead. It is by the light of reason that we interpret the signposts and make out the landmarks along our way." (The Ascent to Truth - Merton)

 A New World


In reality, this discomfort of mine was the best thing that could ever happen to me. It forced me to become a better Catholic, to do my own research to find out what the Faith really is about and teaches. I would no longer be a casual Catholic, but would begin to avail myself of the multitude of resources available - and the more I learned, the more I fell in love with this great Faith.

Along the way I discovered that Kendra had bought Catholicism For Dummies and enrolled herself in an online Catechism course. At first she said she was doing these things because she owed it to Brandon to know more about what the Catholic Faith teaches. But soon she too was wanting more.

Don't Look Back


A friend had suggested I read "The Purpose Driven Life" by Rick Warren. Kendra agreed to read it together with me. I'm not sure if it was the first chapter or not, but very early in the book, Warren speaks of the importance of Baptism.

Kendra asked if I thought Baptism was important. I said I did, and we discussed why. Before I knew it, she was making an appointment to meet with Fr. Hayes.

We began to meet with Fr. Hayes about having our marriage convalidated and enrolling Kendra in RCIA. Kendra was attending Mass with me regularly and even became involved in a couple of ministries in our little small parish.

We attended our first RCIA meeting together.

Then came Hurricane Katrina.
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Other posts in the Viva la Vida series

Friday, December 27, 2013

Viva la Vida: When Kendra First Heard the Call

The day after Christmas; it's probably a day that many people spend trying to relax and recuperate. For some, it is a day to return to their jobs, trying to focus on their particular work, difficult as that may be.

Our garbage disposal broke during the afternoon on Christmas Eve. I'm not too good at repairing things or installing replacements, so I intended to buy a new disposal and pay someone to install it. But a friend suggested to me that it was an "easy fix", and although that generally means "only moderately difficult" for me, I was able to successfully get the job done.

Naturally I feel accomplished by this, and normally it would be noteworthy in the annals of Donkey-do's, but December 26 is already a special date to me - for multiple reasons, all of which are much more special than my figuring out some DIY task.

As I mentioned last year (in this post), December 26 is the feast day of my patron saint (Saint Stephen), the anniversary of Brandon's baptism, the anniversary of the first time Kendra attended Mass with me - when Kendra went all but kicking and screaming yet heard the Holy Spirit speaking to her, and one of many times God reminded me that He knows what He's doing, and it's best for me to get out of His way sometimes.

Get it together


It was 2004, and God had already been "working" on me. After more than a decade away I was attending Mass. With the help of my pastor (Fr. Dennis Hayes), my reconciliation and spiritual life were taking shape. Unfortunately, Kendra was not on board - not even close.

Unbaptized and perhaps best described as agnostic at the time, it's easy to understand why Kendra was confused by my seemingly sudden transformation. Until a person feels the tug of the Holy Spirit for themselves, it's difficult to comprehend what that means.

Compounding this was some not-so-positive experiences she had in the past and my mistake of thinking it was my responsibility to persuade or influence her to "find" Jesus. The whole thing was taking a toll on our marriage. And why not? I was no longer the person she had married.

Now we were at a point where I was beginning to learn that it was my responsibility to introduce my wife to Jesus, but that things would be best if I left the "real work" to Him - beginning to anyway.

Get her to the church - this time


Brandon was born on November 27, and although Kendra had already agreed that he could be baptized, there was never an agreement or commitment by her to attend or to have any part in it or his religious life whatsoever. In fact, hours before Mass that morning she told me that she thought she would just stay home. I casually said "Okay", and began getting ready - quietly telling God that I trusted Him, but that I would really appreciate if He would somehow get her to change her mind.

Soon afterward, Kendra began getting ready and said she would go. We would sit in the back row though, and she reminded me that this was not something that she was looking forward to. Check.

I'm so smart


Despite the tension, I was excited that she was coming. I was sure that she would really "get something" out of Fr. Dennis' Homily. Right up until the time that I realized it was the deacon's weekend to preach.

"Come on God! What are You doing? This is not the way I planned it." Those are the exact words that went through my head as Deacon Al Miester was about to begin speaking. Instantly though, bumps raised on my arms, and I could feel the blood escaping from my face along with a tingle down my neck and back.

God reminded me that I am a silly little man, that He is God, and He knows what He's doing.

It was the Feast of the Holy Family. Deacon Al began to talk about his mother - that she was not Catholic, but had agreed to have him baptized.

This message was for Kendra. I knew it. But did she? Was she even paying attention? I simply prayed as he continued, speaking of how his mother was the parent to teach him about the Catholic Faith - and how one day, because of her study of the Faith in order to properly dispense such to her son, his mother decided to convert to the Catholic Faith herself.

Brandon was baptized. We went home and had a little family celebration. I said nothing about the obvious. I dared not get in God's way with my silly little foot in my silly little mouth.

Shut up and brush your teeth


The next morning, Kendra approached me while I was brushing my teeth. "That was interesting what that man - what do you call him, a deacon? - what he said yesterday." she said. 

I kept brushing.

"Did you ever feel like someone was talking directly to you, like you were the only one in the room - even though there were a bunch of people around?" she asked.

I kept brushing - wanting to pop.

"What do you call that?"

A question. I asked God to help me not louse it up. "That's the Holy Spirit Kendra." I said, "It's called the Holy Spirit - working in the deacon and working in you."

I went back to brushing. Very clean teeth that day.

"I feel like I'm supposed to do something. What am I supposed to do?" she asked honestly.

Again, doing my best to finally trust God, I told her exactly what to do. Okay, not really. "I don't know Kendra. That's between you and God. I suppose you should ask the Holy Spirit what to do next."

I went back to brushing, and thanking God quietly.

Things were about to get really different around our house.
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Other posts in the Viva la Vida series

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Viva la Vida: My Second "First Communion"

My 2nd Grade class received their First Communion this weekend. It was a truly joyous day. Adding to that joy was seeing my own son Brandon receive Holy Communion for the first time and having my wife  Kendra with us throughout the year and especially on that day.

Of all of the years that I have taught Faith Formation (or CCD) this year was unique, and not just because of our special family involvement. In some ways, there were challenges that I had not had in the past and did not expect. There were a few instances that I may never understand. Yes, I am being vague on purpose.

But the children surprised me in really good ways. They were not afraid to ask questions about some not-easy-to-understand topics; you know, mysteries. Many of them liked to talk about particular word translations too. We had a great time through several classes comparing Mass with a time machine.

And you bet they were prepared to receive their First Communion; catechetically, spiritually, and rubrically. (Although my spell check does not like that word, I double-checked to ensure it's a word.) We bought our own box of unconsecrated hosts and used more than 300 of them in addition to what was supplied to us by the Parish.

It was really great to have Brandon sitting next to me at the Mass and watching each of my students receive for the first time. But after I received Communion and was thanking God for these children, for entrusting them to me, and for the renewed life He had given to me, a very undeserving character, I thought about my two First Communions.

I thought about my First Communion as a child about 38 years ago. I remembered at least one of the lessons and rehearsals and the excited anticipation of receiving the Eucharist for the first time. I remembered the priest, the church, my white suit. I remembered the party at my house afterward; the cake and at least 3 of my presents. Strangely though, I do not actually remember receiving Communion that first time or any of the Mass at all.

And then I thought about my second First Communion; the one about 6 1/2 years ago. It was November 2006, a little more than 2 years after my reversion to the Faith following more than a decade of absence to varying degrees.

Kendra was in RCIA and was dismissed after the Homily, so I sat alone, but more un-alone than I can explain. Nor can I explain the overwhelming anticipation that I felt as I approached Jesus in the Eucharist after so long. After Communion, Flashes of my life literally passed before me at one instant and the emotion of it all was too much.

No. I do not remember the actual act of receiving the Eucharist this time either. As hard as I try, I cannot. I'm a big sap for the nostalgic, but I can honestly say that not remembering either of these times does not sadden or bother me at all.

I think it's because these moments are part of the kairos as I wrote about here before.

A former pastor of mine once preached about chronos and kairos time. Very simply, chronos time may be explained by the answer to the question "What time is it?" while kairos time is better explained by the statement "I had a great time". While chronos refers to sequential time, kairos refers to a moment. 
In the Eastern Church, before the Liturgy begins, the deacon exclaims "Kairos tou poiesai to Kyrio"; which means "It is time for the Lord to act", recognizing the joining of our earthly and heavenly worship.
I sometimes think about how hard it was to go to Mass after Mass without being able to receive Jesus in the Eucharist.

I sometimes think about how many years I didn't think about it much at all.

I sometimes wonder why God would still want me after those years of rejecting Him. I wonder why He would want to use someone like me. This is too self-absorbed. God wants each of us. He calls each of us.

I just finally listened....and responded.

Viva la Vida (Live Life) is a running series of posts about my life experiences, meant to help me reflect on the "why's?" of who I am becoming through my ongoing conversion. The inspiration for the title comes from the Coldplay song.

Other posts in this series:

A Glimpse
Tribute to a man I never knew

What's in a Name?


Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Viva la Vida: What's in a Name?

I was 19 years old, and working as a Merchandiser in the New Orleans metropolitan area. On this particular day, I was servicing a grocery store in the Faubourg Marigny neighborhood of New Orleans, when a lady employee of the grocery store approached me.

"Somebody told me you're name is Vogt. Is that right?" I stopped for a moment to affirm that her "source" was correct. She began to probe a bit more, asking if my father had been a policeman. I was hoping that this poor woman didn't have a questionable past. "Yes, and so was my grandfather and my great grandfather." I replied. After a few more questions, we established that it was my grandfather she was inquiring about. And when I mentioned the name of the only partner of his that I was aware of, I saw her face light up.

She smiled really big, revealing a couple of missing teeth, thrust her arm up and then down while simultaneously stomping her foot on the ground, "I knew it! I knew it! Vogt and Viguerie! Vogt and Viguerie! We never had to worry about the neighborhood with those two around!"

I was already accustomed to hearing good things connected to my paternal surname, as I had been told repeatedly by those who knew my father (most of them police officers themselves) of his unsurpassed honesty and integrity.

While I have asked my own children to respect their last name, I really don't recall my father making the same request. I learned more through examples. There are many times during my life that I have made certain decisions for the better simply because of the pride I had in my last name...or fear for what I thought might happen if I did something to tarnish it. Oh, I have not lived a saintly life and have made many choices which do not "live up" to such high praises, but I'm sure that I would have turned out much worse without these "lessons".

There's a lesson here for Christians too. We bear the name of Jesus everywhere we go. We've not always done a great job of living up to the Name, have we? But yet, the truths of Love, Mercy, Justice, and everything that is of God still remain in the Name. Let's work harder to be better witnesses to others in the Name of Jesus, keeping in mind that it is the Name above all names.

Today, March 19, is the Solemnity of Saint Joseph. My grandfather passed away 31 years ago today. To this day, his was the longest funeral procession I have ever personally witnessed; a testament to the name.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
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Viva la Vida (Live Life) is a running series of posts about my life experiences, meant to help me reflect on the "why's?" of who I am becoming through my ongoing conversion. It won't be chronological or all-inclusive, and I'll be careful not to indict anyone else (too much).

Related posts:
A Glimpse
Tribute to a man I never knew

Monday, February 4, 2013

Viva la Vida: Tribute to a man I never knew

Viva la Vida (Live Life) is a running series of posts about my life experiences, meant to help me reflect on the "why's?" of who I am becoming through my ongoing conversion. It won't be chronological or all-inclusive, and I'll be careful not to indict anyone else (too much).

"Let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice." Although man can forget God or reject him, He never ceases to call every man to seek him, so as to find life and happiness. But this search for God demands of man every effort of intellect, a sound will, "an upright heart", as well as the witness of others who teach him to seek God. - Catechism 30
As I'm sure is the case with most, if not all, the witness of others has greatly influenced my perspective on life. Some of those witnesses will never know that their lives have touched mine. One of those is Carroll Nelson.

I never met Carroll or had the pleasure of really knowing him, but I hope that by sharing this little story of how Carroll gave me a different perspective on just one little thing in life, you will see that we are always witnesses; hopefully for the better.

Background


Most of this post is taken or based on the words of Carroll's wife Liza, Fr. Timothy Heines, and Carroll himself.

The Man


Carroll met Liza when they were sophomores in High School "in Mrs. Frankson’s biology class". Liza says they dated for four years before she "finally convinced Carroll to marrying" her.

Carroll was always an active person. He traveled regularly in his work for Whataburger. It was part of his daily routine. He was also an athlete who played tennis, baseball, and golf. He was a musician who had a beautiful voice, played the guitar, and occasionally the piano. These are all things that Carroll would tell you defined who he was. And of course to his family, he was a loving father (Carroll III, Colin, and Joe) and husband.

A Heart-Breaking Day


Carroll began seeing an Orthopedist after he realized that he wasn't able to run like he used to when playing tennis.  The Orthopedist referred him to a Neurologist. In the course of trying to determine what was causing the weakness in his legs, he underwent many tests.

Eventually, he began to develop foot-drop in his right foot and just before this symptom developed, he found that he was diabetic. The doctors felt that he could have diabetic neuropathy, and so he underwent many more tests which made Carroll feel tired and weakened.

The doctors began to suspect ALS, Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Carroll was concerned to tell his boss that the doctors were suspecting he may have ALS, and so he tried to hide his weakening physical condition. But in June of 2004, Carroll had an episode where he fell flat to the ground in the presence of his co-workers, boss, and a few members of upper-management. Carroll had to have a "heart-to-heart" with his boss.

After that conversation, his boss called with contact information for Dr. Stanley Appel at the ALS Clinic in Houston. Dr. Appel had devoted his entire career to the research and treatment of ALS. Dr. Appel and his team ran a battery of tests and examinations of Carroll over a three day period.

At the conclusion of these tests, it was confirmed that Carroll did indeed have ALS. Liza describes that day as "heart-breaking for us all".

Identity


As the disease progressed, he was no longer able to fully express himself or enjoy those things which he had previously found his identity in. He was no longer an athlete, a musician, and all too quickly lost the ability to perform his job. Carroll found himself in a position where he was forced to re-define who he was.

Carroll began experiencing conversion, and sharing with our parish some of his experiences, he said

"I believe that my conversion may not have happened without facing this trial. Previously, I relied on my physical strength and very little on my spiritual strength. Now, I found as my body weakens, my spiritual strength increases many times over. That’s not to say that it isn’t trying at times, but at the darkest time, I know I can lean on God." 

Carroll had begun to find his identity in God.

What Does This Have To Do With Me?

I had witnessed Carroll and his family at Mass in our parish many times. I was always moved by this family, but I could not put my finger on it.

I was a sponsor in our parish RCIA and on retreat in early 2007, when Carroll and Liza came to speak to us. By that time, Carroll's speech was impeded to the point that Liza had to read to us what Carroll wanted us to know. And so I use the words "Carroll said".

"The most basic of human functions, eating, toileting, even resting and most vitally, breathing becomes the challenges of the day. As I lost the ability to do the things that had previously defined me; singing, playing the guitar, athlete, etc, I found new joy in things as simple as a cool breeze on a warm day. Things that previously went unnoticed; I found a new awareness of and greater appreciation for."

And then, it was a very simple thing that Carroll said, but even now as I type brings me to tears.

Carroll told us of how he was dreaming one day. He dreamed about a clear summer day which he described  everything to the last detail; down to the air he was breathing. He was mowing the lawn. And then, he realized that it was a dream. He said that some men from our parish were mowing the lawn and how much he appreciated their help.

But most importantly, he missed being able to mow his lawn.

Guilty! I am not a fan of mowing the lawn. I can whine and complain and procrastinate and grumble, and you get the point.

With simple words, backed by the witness he had already provided (also unknowingly) as I previously observed him and his family, Carroll helped me to at least try to appreciate some of the things I should be more appreciative of; like having the ability to.

Last Words


Carroll passed away in September of 2007. His last words were

“Pray the Rosary!”

Although I never met the man, I went to Carroll's funeral Mass. After all, he had...has contributed to my continuing conversion.

I still don't enjoy cutting the grass. But since that day, every time I start the mower, I think of Carroll, and I appreciate having the ability to mow my lawn.
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Below is the transcript of the Homily for Carroll's funeral Mass; given by Fr. Timothy Heines. I hope you will read the entire Homily as it gives more insight into the life of Carroll.


In our Catholic faith, there are two words that are very special to us: sacrament and consecrate. In our tradition, we believe that God works in many ways to reveal his presence to us. As en-fleshed beings, body and soul, it is sometimes difficult for us to see and fully experience the presence of a transcendent God. For that reason, God reaches out to us and reveals himself in many different ways. Seemingly earthbound, we sometimes struggle to see heaven.

So in the fullness of time, God so loved the world that he sent his Only Son. His Son spoke words of hope and love, and reconciled us to the Father through the gift of his own body and blood. His message was of a new order, a new creation, a kingdom. He spoke in parables that allowed us to begin, despite our mental feebleness, to begin to understand something that transcends human experience. He also worked miracles, so that despite our physical feebleness, we might through signs and wonder begin to experience something of the promise that awaits us as his Kingdom Comes.

The signs continue in the world through the ministry of His Body, the Church. We have the sacraments: washed in the regeneration of baptism , nourished by that which appears to be bread and wine, anointed in the Spirit through the healing balm of oil. Yet, let those who have eyes, let them see. For the sacraments are not something that one merely receives. When we truly understand the manner by which our God works, and appreciate the transforming power of God’s grace, we should know this: a sacrament is something that one is to become.

When we are imbued with the presence and power of God’s love, which we call grace, we become his instruments. This is why the words “sacrament” and “consecrate” come to mind as we gather to celebrate the life of Carroll Nelson. For as we remember the life of Carroll Nelson, the reality of becoming a sign of something more comes more sharply into focus.

For many of us, Carroll embodied the virtue of Hope. He was a living symbol to us of that key Christian virtue. For the righteous, the key virtue in life may be faith. For the saints, it is obviously love. But for the rest of the poor schmucks in this world—the vast majority of us, the virtue which guides and shapes our choices, our attitudes, our perspectives, our lives, is the virtue of hope.

In common usage, hope refers to some kind of wishful thinking. In the Bible, it is something much more positive. It is shaped by an expectation of the future, a trust in the promises of God, a way of living in the midst of trial, and a way of letting go of ego in light of surrender to the providence and power of God. 

Carroll was a character—a joker, a singer, a man who enjoyed friends and food and fun. And as his disease progressed, the irrepressible spirit of the man was slowly being trapped in a body which could not express or enjoy the fullness of life’s own promises.

Yet we gather here to celebrate because Carroll did not surrender to that imprisonment. Instead, by embodying that kind of hope, he, in many ways transcended the prison of his own body and revealed to us a freedom that many of the most healthy, strong, and physically vibrant among us will never know.

He lived a hope in a world to come that enabled him to love in times of despair and to have faith in times of darkness. The paradox of his final days, while barely to communicate in the conventional sense, was that he said a great deal, loudly and clearly. He showed us that true freedom is not merely the accumulation of choices or the exercise of power for oneself, but comes with a trust in the will of God. The paralysis of the body was caused by Lou Gehrig’s disease. But the paralysis of the soul is caused by selfishness and bitterness. When one lives for oneself, one will always be wanting more and will never be satisfied. When one lives for Christ, he finds himself giving…

Until the very end, we saw Carroll give in that manner. There is a story about his last night. There was a wonderful young woman who used to come to the house and help the Nelson family out. On the last night of his life, before she prepared to leave, Carroll struggled to communicate with her. He mouthed the word “food.” He wanted to make sure that she took some food home for her family. He was aware that he was dying. He was struggling to breathe. He was afraid. But he thought of others. Indeed, his last word of advice to everyone was “Pray the Rosary!”

Indeed, he became for many of us a sacrament, a sign of hope. And I mentioned the word “consecrate.” The word “consecrate” literally means, to set something apart for a special purpose. Carroll, through his conversion experience and his deepening spiritual life, (which I can attest to as his confessor), allowed himself, in the midst of weakness, to be set apart to remind all of us of what is truly important. In the preface for the feast days of martyrs, there is a line which comes to mind. Addressed to God, the prayer says, “You choose the weak and make them strong in bearing witness to you.” This is taken from the first letter to the Corinthians which states:

Consider your own calling, brothers. Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. Rather, God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God. It is due to him that you are in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, as well as righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, so that, as it is written, "Whoever boasts, should boast in the Lord."

Towards the end, this certainly could be the epitaph of Carroll Nelson. And so this begs the question then, how do we respond? Because here’s the deal, when we encounter a sign of God, it calls a response forth from us.

God works through human beings so that we may not only see him in a new way, but may respond to one another in a different way. We do damage to Carroll’s memory and we dishonor the God who graced him, if having him in our lives for some amount of time, we do not listen to the lessons of his life. Can we live with hope and give hope to one another? Can we shun bitterness? Can we accept the will of God being content only with the freedom of being able to love and give? Can we trust?

Carroll also had one other message which speaks more to Liza than to him, I think. He said that he wanted everyone to hear the words of scripture: “Husbands love your wives. Wives love your husbands.” It is perfectly ok to grieve right now, but we do so with hope. As Queen Elizabeth said on the occasion of 9/11: Grief is the price we pay for love. It is appropriate and as Jesus reminds us: “Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

And let us remember the Resurrection of the Body…

And so let us joyfully pray together our Eucharistic prayer—the hopeful banquet that anticipates the one in the Kingdom to Come. It will be a banquet where Carroll will be freed from all infirmity and surrounded by his loved ones will celebrate the fulfillment of the promise that gave him hope. And what was that promise? 

"Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Viva la Vida: A Glimpse

Noticing I was home and at the computer, she looked over my shoulder at the screen. "What are you doing?", she asked. It was a fair enough question since I had been gone for a couple of hours and had not bothered to announce my return. I really didn't want to answer, fearing another exchange would distract me from my purpose, "I'm looking for a priest."

Her response was quick, "You're looking for a priest? I thought you just came back from church!" Still scrolling, I responded, "Yes, but I'm looking for a particular priest." I could feel the eye-roll behind my neck as she silently ambled away.

I was so relieved that the questioning has ceased. After all, I wasn't sure our relationship could stand the strain that would be caused if I told her God "told" me to find this priest. It could have ended up in an all-out donnybrook.

Just then, I saw his name. There he was, and now he was the pastor of a local parish. I got goosebumps. His parish was what was supposed to be my parish. The priest that God sent me in search of lived about 4 blocks from my house.

My conversion was continuing.
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This is a glimpse of a blog post yet to come. I have decided to blog more about many of my life experiences. I'm sure that it will be helpful for me to do some reflecting, and perhaps you will find it enjoyable.

It won't be chronological or all-inclusive, and I'll be careful not to indict anyone else (too much). I've decided to use "Viva la Vida" (Live Life) as the intro for these posts. Yes, it's partly because I love the Coldplay song, and I'm going to find a way to work it in occasionally.

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