To the Road Crews with love...

Oh no, another one. "Road Crew?" Really? I want to turn this one in like a Scrabble tile. Turn my "X" in for a nice "A". But this is the word, so off we go.Where we land , nobody knows.

Whenever I drive by the prisoners picking up trash in Clayton County, my first thought is why are people such slobs. McDonald's bag, out the window it goes. Do they do it to give the convicts work? Maybe that's it; it is kindness but always my second thought is how sad it would be to drive by these men and spot your son. Could you stop and hug him ? I am sure not. How utterly sad. So my heart does turn to gratitude, that the faces I see are not familiar and that these men are helping my county.

What I need to be doing as I pass these men working on and cleaning the roadways is to pray for them, for their safety and redemption. For Christ's peace to be known to them this day.

The colorful, amazing photo above was captured by my friend Kris and I have used it so many times. Saints in a bar in Puerto Rico. It seems perfect for what comes next on my road crew musing. In my faith we are called to pray for those who have left us.We also believe that the saints who have gone before us can intercede for us to aid us on our journeys here. This is the communion of saints. The here and there. I have been praying each morning for my list of people, both here and gone. It has not occurred to me that they may be praying back for me. My parents, sister , aunts , uncles, old friends, grandparents. I am pretty sure that this is correct. I will know when I join them.

The Catechism says that The Communion of Saints is this: "The unity in Christ of all the redeemed,  those on earth and those who have died." One big party. Does it matter? I think it does. To know that those who left us care as much about us as we do them.What a wondrous thought.We are never alone.

They are working on my path, with helps I know nothing about. Now.

So,  for the road crews of the visible and the ones I cannot see, thank you.

From The Celts:

This is Aidan , strong and good,
who challenged all to love God more.
believe, and truly follow Him with a generous heart:
and this was the message that Aidan lived.
and this was the work that Oswald loved,
the peace Columba found, the peace of Christ,
the way Brigid lived.,
the prayer Patrick made,
the circle Ninian drew,
the life that Martin taught,
the house that love built,
the heart that John heard,
the way that God made.

rules of engagement...gratitude

  Once again I woke up with a word that didn't delight me. Rules of Engagement to me means the constrictions put on the behavior of military personnel when fighting a war. I was again going to discard the word but I should know better.

Haven't we all been given our own rules of engagement, how to treat those we encounter , our neighbors, family? And so some scenes from Twitter videos come to mind, that giant turtle on it's back, unable to flip, being helped by another turtle and finally with a grand push, he is right side up and on his way. Amazing.The crow and the elephant who, God knows how, take trash to receptacles; the crow a plastic bottle and paper for the elephant.The young girl singing to her little handicapped brother, the Golden Retriever comforting a crying child. My dog Patchy used to do that. How do they know?

When the rules are adhered to, the Golden Rule that is, we are all the beneficiaries. The teen-age girl at that pool so long ago who told me that the bathing suit that I loathed was cute. 60 year later I recall that kindness. The Aunt who gave ma a little Golden Book even though it wasn't my birthday.The Saggy Baggy elephant. I can still see the cover. Since then I have always connected elephants with kindness. The uncle who I loved, telling me through the family grapevine that he thought I had a sterling character. I remember trying to live up to that.

Mrs.Rooney, who sat on her front porch and allowed me some of her time and laughed at my feeble jokes. So long ago. The girl I met and talked with just once when I was ten. She said she was visiting a relative on the street. We talked a bit, laughed some and before she left, she told me she liked me. Such sweet words to be said by a stranger. To a child, words matter.

So today, a grateful heart for those memories of kindnesses.Think of your own. Please share. Our day will shine.

He rescued me.....safety first.

 

This summer, my three sons took off for the Grand Tetons in Wyoming to climb the highest peak.They had done it before, 25 years ago, and there was not a loved one left behind that wasn't deeply concerned for their safety. I said goodbye to each on the phone and sent them all this e-mail." Have fun, take care of your brothers, and safety first."The last part is my youngest son's mantra because he takes college groups into the deserts of West Texas and Mexico and is responsible for their safety.

They never made it to the top because of weather conditions and other factors but the trip was not without drama. After a hearty Chinese meal, my oldest son developed terrible stomach pains. He tried to gut it out but finally my youngest son saw that it was getting worse and took him to the hospital where he lay on a gurney in agony. I can hardly write the rest. Sean, the professor, held his brother's hand until after the surgery that removed his gall bladder. He also retrieved Mike's wife from the airport and when all the dust had settled, he went on his way. He was Christ.

My children have saved me more than once.My oldest from my own drama, Kevin, when I was stuck at the airport with a car that wouldn't start, my daughter Jessica, holding my hand on a tiny ledge at Cinque Terra and on the insane Paris streets.

I have been saved before. I left the Church in 1969 having seen no evidence of holiness or even that prayer worked. Everyone that I knew as church goers had terrible lives.I felt liberated when I crossed the bridge over the Belt Parkway in Queens  leaving that church building and superstition behind. I can do this on my own.

It was a few years later, while living in California,  that I awakened one morning with a huge hole in my being. What was missing? I prayed: "Lord, if you are there, help me."He did and the story of our reunion and life together has been my journey for over 50 years.

..."By the might of His glory you will be endowed with the strength needed to stand fast, even to endure joyfully whatever may come, giving thanks to the Father for having made you worthy to share the lot of the saints in light. He rescued us from the power of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of His beloved Son. Through Him we have redemption and the forgiveness of our sins." Coloss 1:11-14.

O light come down to earth...

She stands, she stands, silent, charred, still there. It took two hundred years, 20 generations,  to build Notre Dame. Human effort, human achievements is today's theme of gratefulness.That Cathedral, the hands and minds that put it together. Burned before, charred now, she stands.

What do we humans create? Haiku, simple poems of nature and heart. Bridges over troubled water, the song and the fact. The poetry of Emily Dickinson: "To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee and revery. Revery alone will do if bees are few." Reclusive, alone creating. I bow to her.

Wordsworth, his saunters and daffodils, Tintern Abbey falling down, falling down but still majestic. Music of the movie "The Mission."Please play it at my funeral. The monastery church with the white walls bathed in blue and pink light from glass windows. Built by hand. A loom that takes many threads and makes a scarf. From the sheep grazing to my cold neck. Blue bird houses since the trees are fewer.

The Eiffel Tower, once despised, now settled in a neighborhood and adored. The Cathedral in Leon, Spain, stained glass windows from roof to floor.Once, when the roof needed replacing, hands took every piece of the windows, labelled them and stored them only to put them back when the roof was done.

Cameras, photos, the telephone. I see clearly because humans figured out how to replace my eye lens in cataract surgery. And finally this:

                         .........."In fall their brightened leaves, released,
                                   Fly down the wind, and we are pleased
                                    To walk on radiance, amazed.
                                  O light come down to earth, be praised."  from A Timbered Choir,
                                                                                                        Wendell Berry

friends

When the word "friends" popped into my mind at 3:30 a.m., I was sure I knew where to go and yet what was to come was very different.

The story was not going to be about the friend of 67 years who inspires me with her love of God. Nor would it be about the soul friend of 40 years who has shown me a way of caring and kindness that has changed who I am .It wouldn't be about the work friend who has become my inspiration for so many endeavors. The one I can tell anything to and count on her to still be my best cheerleader; she gets me. Nor would it be about the gal who moved to Blue Ridge who never forgets my birthday. This writing would go back to childhood and a 30 year ago work friend.The fact that they both live in Florida seems to be the connection.

Her name is Diane and she was one of my first friends. Her mother and mine were best buddies and we tagged along. She was a mild mannered sweet, pretty girl with dark eyes and brown hair and we never had a disagreement that I recall.Although an only child, she shared her toys and her laugh with me.Maybe I was the sister she longed for because years later she named her daughter after me. I glowed knowing that.

I remember her mother, Jean, who looked like the movie star Jane Wyman, singing the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" one day on the way to the beach. She became ill and Diane lost her mother when she was just a girl. After my parents died, Diane and I exchanged Christmas cards for awhile. I never told her how much I envied her big bedroom, the one she didn't have to share and her Bugs Bunny clock.I can see it still after all these years.I found Diane today on Facebook and sent her a friend request.I want her to know that this day, I am praying for her safety and have such fond memories of her and our time together.

Susan is the other friend on my mind today.We worked together in downtown Atlanta and I was the better for our friendship.She was a sunny companion, always a smile and a gracious remark.We went to exercise and Bible Study together and I can see her with her carrots for lunch on her weight loss programs. Kind to everyone and a pleasure to be around.

A few years ago, I heard from her on Facebook after a family tragedy. She asked for prayers and I was honored to do so. She is a survivor, overcoming challenges while raising her daughter.I don't quite know where she is in Florida but my prayers for her and her family surround her this day.

I wrote the other day that it has become clear that my calling at this point in my life is gratitude and intercessory prayer and I have had no qualms about that until today. To be awakened at 3:30 with these friends on my mind seems a bit overwhelming. But then I think of these long ago friends and how my memories are only good ones and I am grateful.

"I see from my house by the side of the road
by the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardour of hope,
The men who faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road 
and be a friend to man.:...Sam Walter Foss

small things

  I woke up at 4:30 this morning with the words "small things" drifting in and out of my mind. I now just accept without question that something will come that will bless me and perhaps others.

The list of small things started this way, each item making me smile:

....... the yellow butterfly wing I found years ago that I can't seem to throw away even if Marie Kondo who wrote "The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up" suggests I should.....this green and brown used, somewhat battered journal........ bright eyed fawns skittering in the back yard.... cicadas as big as my thumb that have kept me company all summer....... haiku, that wondrous small poetry form that leads us to the now........ a small shiny black lady bug rosary given by a friend that reminds me of the one I gave away on the Camino 7 years ago. That one to an older French gentleman who, unbeknownst to me, had lost his the day before on the Path.......A drawing of a tree from my friend Missy, so perfect, hanging in a small frame on my wall....a print I bought at a consignment store last week, it is a drawing of a hand giving flowers to another hand and it warms me when I think that my husband still buys me flowers,after all these years..

And that day, 20 years ago, when I took my little grandson to the pool in his neighborhood where  we bobbed and floated to his smiles and chortles. I wanted to spend all my days with this little boy. We would go the the park and bounce a ball, play in the dirt with little cars, just being.This little boy turns 21 next week and what a man he has become. He is good. Whenever he visits, I look in his face to see if he has changed and I always say, "you are still so good." He is. He has always cared about his siblings.Once, a few years back I took just him out for ice cream. Before we left the store he said that we had to find a way to take some to his siblings.Yes, that is who he is and soon he will serve a larger purpose in the U.S. Navy.

My last story is about a lady who I have encountered walking in my neighborhood.She gives me a big smile and today said these words:  "how blessed we are to be alive and in the beautiful world that God created just for us".This is small church to me..as inspiring as any.

                                                    You are behind me
                                                 and before me, O God,
                                                    you lay Your Hand 
                                                        upon me...Ps 139:5

the List

Before Mass, when I am led, I go up to the beautiful Our Lady of Guadalupe Statue to the right of the altar. She is colorful, carved of wood and unlike the Cross which hangs high from the ceiling, our Mother is reachable. So, I hold her feet and a few Sunday ago I handed her two Twitter friends, one from Canada and the other from the US. In their profiles they are both listed as atheists and in chatting with them, I know they were raised Catholic. After handing them over to Mary I heard this: "Make a list." I knew exactly what she meant, so I now have a prayer list that I use after I have written in my gratitude journal.

I have never done this before and I am being faithful to it.Somehow, I know that my prayers are being heard in a deep way. I also knew that today I would be given another name.Before Mass, a deacon came over to tell about his oldest daughter who is at Grady Hospital after a serious fall from a horse. Broken bones in the back are suspected. She is now on the list along with anyone who visits me in my dreams.

Which brings me to this day's gratitude entry. I woke up with the names of a family in my mind. They have recently lost a adult son and brother. a gifted man who owned their hearts.Why their names should appear as something to be grateful for, I had no idea but I just knew that it would become clear. And it has.

The Westbrooks are on my list. From now until forever, I will pray for them, each of them. As well as Deacon Casal's daughter. Every day, I will be alert to who should be included. It could be a person I have never met, on-line, or someone who passed away years ago. I will not filter and try to figure why. I will be open to whoever seems, in the ways of mystery, to be asking to be included. This is now my calling,  and I have been given this as a great gift. Deo Gracias.

                             May the blood of Christ wash away all that is not of Him and may we meet  one day day in Paradise. Amen.