Waiting for God

Samuel Beckett wrote a book called Waiting for Godot. It’s one of the many modern ‘classic’s I’ve yet to read. I wonder if I ever will read it. As a general rule I don’t like modern classics because their very modernity seems to be at odds with the true definition of a classic and the former wins out over the latter. I happen to prefer classic classics—classics which have stood the test of time. And yet, since we can see, ‘waiting for God’ in the title of Beckett’s book, I am intrigued by the potential connection.*

I know I am waiting for God. I’ve been waiting for Him for a very long time—not as long as some, but longer than others: fifty-something years if you must know. When I hit fifty I went through an aging crisis, the first and only time in my life getting older ever bothered me. Looking back I see now it was because I’d lost my way. If one has both eyes on God, then being fifteen or fifty is pretty much the same. Both ages can be a moment from His presence or thirty years.

Most of us don’t like waiting. That was the theme of our pastor’s homily last night. And yet he rightly reminded us about all the benefits God can draw from our waiting experiences: the savoring of anticipation, building of character, and growth in patience, to name but a few. So much good can come from waiting on God, doing things according to His Will, in His Time. If we but wait, when the harvest comes in, how wonderful is the feast! Many of us in America just experienced that as we sat down to our groaning tables Thanksgiving Day . . . and got up an hour or so later, groaning ourselves, from having feasted on His Bounty.

That’s fine for us, but what about those who are still waiting? Still hungry?

And of course that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as we all know. There are many, many other things—issues if you will—still unresolved, which seem to be on-hold, waiting: the poor, immigrants, the unborn, the lost, minorities, the lonely, homeless, the elderly, abused children, the dying, victims of crime, our planet, etc. The list goes on. Who or what are they waiting for? Does God hear their cry? Do we?

I don’t have answers, only questions and observations. I work for a church which pours Charity, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars every year, into the surrounding community and yet in recent years has had to install security lights, cameras (which have been repeatedly stolen) and locks everywhere for the protection of those who give so generously.

In our parish, we have those who bring food, clothing and emergency transportation to desperate people at all hours of the day and night, and have done so for years now. These veteran helpers are true Sons of St. Francis of Assisi and their stories are fascinating. In spite of many instances of personal danger, flagrant abuse, and hostility, they remain devoted and untiring ministers to those in need.

Our St. Vincent DePaul hotline receives threatening calls when the disgruntled ‘poor’ feel the service provided isn’t sufficient or prompt enough. “I think Channel XVZ needs to hear your church is doing false advertising! You say you’re there to help us but no one called me back tonight!”

Police vehicles camp in our parish parking lot every evening we have a function. I see them with gratitude but also with more than a trace of sadness, that their presence is necessary.

God we are waiting. We are still waiting. Advent is a time of waiting. We are your children, Lord, and we still await Your Coming.

Lord, come to our assistance. Make haste to help us!



*However, if you read the linked NY Times review of the play, you will learn that Beckett doesn't expect God to ever come to save mankind. Poor man!

Blood Money

Promote this film. See this film. Tell the truth.

Am I Good?

Am I? Is anyone? Are you?

And what is “good” anyway?

In Mark 10:18 and Luke 18:19 Jesus answers the greeting of, ‘Good teacher’ with, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” In Mark’s account it is the Rich Young Man who calls Jesus ‘good’; in Luke’s, it is ‘an official’ who also goes unnamed. However, in both accounts, Jesus is very clear, only God is good.

Yesterday’s Gospel reading was a favorite—the sweet story of the Good Shepherd who risks His whole flock to go in search of that one lost lamb. Who doesn’t see him or herself in that story from time to time?

And yet, we are called to be those righteous sheep who do not stray, those who remain faithful to Our Lord, perhaps rubbing or bumping up against him as a herd of sheep are wont to do.

So I ask myself that question again, ‘Am I good?’

Am I one of the ninety-nine or am I the troublesome lamb which Our Lord has to keep going after?

Today was First Friday. I went to Mass and Confession, said my rosary, and prayed for the souls in Purgatory. I wish I could say I do this all the time. I wish I was always good and never had anything to confess. Rather, I imagine my poor confessor thinking, “Oh no her again! Same old tired sins. Can’t she at least think up some new ones?! But no, I am putting my own uncharitable thoughts in his mind. For all I know, he could be praying for me as I should and will pray for him.

So, no I am not good when left to my own devices.

But yes, I am good because He made me that way.

No, I’m not good when I refuse to cooperate with His plan.

And yet I can be good when I say, “Yes!” to Him.

No, I’m not good when I think I act on my own.

Yes, I’m good when I allow His Holy Spirit to work through me.

Am I good?

Yes and No, depending on my choices.

Please dear Lord, help me choose, “YES!”

Child Abuse Awareness Video

I am posting this in honor of all children everywhere and my catechists who are doing the difficult job of trying to tell their students they don't have to be abused.

I know all the protests from those who say we shouldn't tell happy and safe children about 'such things'--that we should allow them to remain innocent for as long as possible. For years, I said the same thing. As my own children have grown-up, however, they have gone to public school and met so many of these abused children. These same abused ones are now their classmates, co-workers and friends. Over and over, I hear stories of neglect, mistreatment and violence perpetrated on the young and innocent by parents, step-parents, family members, neighbors and others. Where and when will it stop if we don't speak out?

Jesus said, "Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Mt 19:14

Jesus said, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, "Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." Mt 18:1-3

"See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father." Mt 18:10

Our Lord is very clear about His love for His littlest and most defenseless ones. How is it we still have not figured it out?

Two 'Daughters of the Month'

There’s no such thing as a ‘perfect’ family. There are however moments in the life of a family when things happen which make you realize how blessed you are to be a member in something larger than yourself. It’s humbling and exciting at the same time.

My husband and I have always been very proud of our daughters. They are both smart and talented, but more importantly, they have always been good kids—again not ‘perfect’ but dependable, honest, hard-working and nice girls.

We’ve been proud of their accomplishments, such as good grades, piano recitals, Tae Kwon Do belts and various sundry awards, but we’ve been even more impressed by those things they do which never gain them any recognition. For example, Bear can never forget how proud he was of Michelle in a race where she came in dead last—but she never quit running. And for me, one of Meg’s finest moments was when she kept going back to break a board time after time after time even though her hand was hurting, her knuckles were bruised and tears of frustration were streaming down her cheeks. Eventually the instructor–a black belt—discovered the wood was too hard even for him to break and he gave her a lighter piece of wood. She broke it, sore hand and all.

However, even these poignant memories pale when I think about the girls’ relationship, how they get along, continue to stick up for each other, love, and even like each other—most of the time anyway. So many siblings grow up with an intense dislike of one another; they fight constantly. Meg and Michelle have been best friends for most of their lives ... and still are.

Tonight was a good example. My younger daughter, Michelle, came in bringing the October issue of their high school newspaper, Titan Talk. “Here,” she said. “Meg is on the front page,” she showed me where her sister was pictured with her escort as the Cross Country Princess in the Carl Albert Homecoming Court. “And here she is again, ‘Female Athlete of the Month’. I figured I’d better tell you and get you a copy of the paper because Meg would never tell you. I’ll pick up some more copies for you tomorrow so you can send them to people. I can get them at the Library.”

Now I ask you, is that a generous sister or is that a generous sister? I didn’t know who I was more proud of at that moment: Meg for her athletic accomplishment or Michelle for her thoughtfulness. Truthfully, I was unspeakably proud of both girls—proud and humbled at the same time.

In September, Meg became a National Merit Semi-finalist and was recognized as an AP (Advanced Placement) Scholar with Honor, which means she received at least 3.25 on all AP exams taken and scores of 3 or higher on four or more of these exams. In fact, she got 5’s on three out of the four AP tests she has taken so far: AP European History—5; AP U.S. History (Independent Study)—5; AP English III—5; AP Chemistry—3. She is taking five more AP courses this year.

Besides her academics, Meg has won five medals in Cross Country so far this year and just placed, along with the entire Carl Albert girl’s team, to run at State this coming week-end.

As I write this, Meg is practicing her piano. Michelle just returned home. After she said hello to me, her first words were to her sister, “Did you know you were ‘Athlete of the Month’?”

Thank you God for letting me know, love and play a role in the lives of these wonderful young women. It is an honor and a privilege to be their mother. Please dear Lord continue to watch over and protect them.

Living Water . . . or . . .

I can’t help it; I just like the places in Holy Scripture where Jesus interacts with women. As a child I hungered for stories about children. As a grown woman, I seek out books and other forms of inspirational media involving women. I suppose it is only natural.

One such event described only in the Gospel of St. John is the story of the Woman at the Well. Jesus and his disciples had just left Judea and returned to Galilee passing necessarily through Samaria, alien territory. In the little town of Sychar, near the plot of land that Jacob had given to his son Joseph was a well which still bore the patriarch’s name. John tells us that the disciples had gone into the town to buy food and Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well about noon. Along comes a woman to draw water.

What the evangelist doesn’t tell us—but most people of the time knew—was that most respectable women got their water in the cool of the morning or late in the evening. This was done as much for practical reasons as for social ones. Therefore, the Samaritan Woman was most likely an outcast. She was getting her water during the heat of the day when she was least likely to encounter her neighbors. Have you ever run errands at ‘safe’ times? To avoid people who didn’t like you? Bullies, maybe or popular groups? I find myself intrigued by this Samaritan Woman.

Jesus asks her for water and she replies, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?" She may be a social leper but she’s practical and knows the score; Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.

But Jesus has something much bigger in mind than social mores. He is thinking, seeing and answering her as God does, "If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have asked him and he would have given you living water."

Her reply is all too human and earthy: "Sir, you do not even have a bucket and the cistern is deep; where then can you get this living water?”

Here I see myself. Here I become the Woman at the Well. I am holding the bucket. He wants to give me Living Water. I persist in asking Jesus ‘bucket’ questions:

‘Where is the water? How do I get it? Are you going to give it to me? What's the 'catch'? The cost? How is this whole thing going to work? Can we get this all arranged so I can get out of here before my unfriendly neighbors come out and I have to deal with them?’

But the real question is, can I let go of my ‘bucket’ questions? My limited perspective?

When will I stop trying to fit God into my little bucket?

I went to the well today at this particular time to avoid meeting people I was afraid would embarrass or upset me—and what did I find?

Who did I meet? God Himself!

And He is offering me something which surpasses my wildest dreams!

His Living Water is more, better, bigger, tastier and more satisfying than anything I can imagine!

Now, can I set my bucket down?

Can I drink fully from His Living Water?

Don't Be Fooled: Abortion is in Health Care

Watch this new ad: Don’t Be Fooled: Abortion is in Health Care Reform, and tell your friends and family that their tax dollars could go to abortion in health care reform.