Month: December 2024

My mother was a saintly woman. She had a belief in God that was unswerving. She was baptized and educated in Catholic school until she was a teenager. She and most of her siblings faithfully attended mass on Sundays for the entirety of their lives and brought up me and my cousins in the Catholic faith. My mother was a deeply religious woman for whom God was a constant companion and guide for living. She read the Bible daily and prayed with confidence that her Lord was watching over her and me and my brothers. She followed the rules of the church but also believed that God was present in many different forms and cultural revelations. She often remarked that each person should be allowed to worship in his or her own fashion. While she loved the teachings of Jesus and thought that his admonition to love one another was the most important commandment, she also respected other faiths and often remarked that each of the spiritual ways that humans unravel the mysteries of life are beautiful. 

I suppose that my mother influenced my thinking as much as the nuns and priests who taught me for twelve years. I began to parse the human remarks of deacons and priests that I heard on Sundays when I attended mass. I realized that while we had the basics of the teachings of Jesus down pat, how we interpreted the ways to follow them tended to vary. Thus I became what some of my friends call a “cafeteria Catholic.” I chose to follow the simplest rendering of the examples and teachings of Jesus rather than becoming entangled in rules that seemed to me to be mostly created by human interpretations. 

I have found myself attempting to follow in my mother’s inclusive path of loving every person she encountered even when they did not love her. Somehow her nonjudgemental way of living impacted me and made me a better person altogether. I watched her as she was sometimes spurned by others because of her moments of mental illness. I saw her love them in spite of their lack of compassion for her. She walked through life welcoming every person who came her way, generously giving of herself and her limited treasures. 

I try to make my mother’s faith my own faith but I am not as saintly as she was. I get angry too easily when I see inhumanity unfolding before me. I have had to work hard to keep my judgements of others from blinding me to the beauty of each soul on this earth. I become surly when I see people hurting each other, raging wars, turning their backs on those who are different. Lately I have been wishing that my mother were still around to sweetly caution me to be more understanding and forgiving. Instead I found an article about Pop Francis that reminded me of my mother’s voice once again. 

The story was in a respected newspaper. It was about a woman who had once lived in Argentina just like Pope Francis. Her life was derailed early. She was poor and hungry and was trafficked sexually. Eventually she ended up in Italy where she plied the trade that had become the only profession that she knew. When Pope Francis lovingly reached out to the community to which this woman belonged she was fascinated that he was inviting her and others who are transgender, lesbians and gays to a public meeting with him. She was stunned by his open compassion as he embraced her and prayed for her. 

Since that time the woman regularly visits the Vatican. She brings empanadas that she has baked for Pope Frances. She looks forward to talking with him about life in Argentina. She loves that he calls her by name and always wants to know how she is doing. Mostly she knows that he loves her as one of God’s children. He does not judge her but he prays for her and in the process her faith has been restored. Goodness and acceptance was the key to helping her realize the kind of love that Jesus told us all to have. 

I think that all too often we humans equate religion with rules and judgements and punishments for those who do not conform to our own beliefs. We think that it is up to us to set people straight about God. We speak of having national religions to which everyone must adhere. We condemn those who are different, sometimes calling them sinners, perverts or worse. Somehow such ways of proselytizing are foreign to me. I think of my mother loving everyone just as they were. I think of Pope Francis insisting that it is not up to him to judge individuals. I think of Jesus purposely reaching out to people who were spurned in his day. I wonder how we got so far off the path of simply loving one another. 

I cannot possibly know what leads someone to become the person that he/she is. While certain lifestyles would be uncomfortable to me, how can I ever know how it feels for those who live them? I try to be like my mother and the Pope in embracing each person without trying to change them. I don’t classify people by stereotypes because I have learned that it is often the person most defamed by society who stops to minister to an injured person by the side of the road. It may be the agnostic or atheist who is the most caring person in the room. My mother and Pope Frances show me how to live and love in the best possible way. I am not nearly as wonderful as they are, but I will try my best to follow their saintly lead. They are the examples that I try to follow.

Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; the third is to be kind. —-Henry James (With thanks to RJ Palacio, 365 Days of Wonder: Mr. Browne’s Book of Precepts

As parents we teach our children to be kind. We correct them when we witness them being mean to others. We tell them stories about heroic behavior and do our best to be examples for them. The most difficult aspect of parenting occurs when our little ones encounter a bully or someone who makes fun of them. Even worse is when they become adults and are hurt by another person that they trusted. 

I have found that the vast majority of people on this planet are good, but it only takes one encounter with a vile person to shatter our outlook on life. Even the strongest among us can be hurt by words, actions, betrayals. Just as kindness is the norm, so is it probable that we each know of times when someone broke us for a moment. We may move on from the ugliness but we never really forget it. We may attempt to understand why anyone would be so hurtful but mostly there is no good way to explain it. Sadly, our society seems more and more willing to accept horrific behavior as a sign of strength or even a joke rather than seeing it as the horror that it is. 

I am a forgiving person but I also know that sometimes people go too far. They break all the bonds of decency and trust. it’s one thing to be treated badly by someone who is in pain themselves, but quite another to keep taking it on the chin from an abuser who seems to get joy out of being disgusting. Such a person may be deeply sick, but we should not put up with the hurt that they inflict on us or others. 

When we are teaching our children to be kind there are other lessons that they must also learn. We have to help them to be confident enough in themselves to be able to walk away from anyone who attempts to harm them. I have generally found that bullies stop immediately when they get no reaction to their actions. They are looking for weakness, someone who can be crushed. They are quite good at ferreting out people who will fall prey to their cruelty. 

I know how difficult it is to be bold enough to stand up to unkind people. Even as a teacher I had taunts hurled at me. As a child I was timid and unsure of myself, so if someone made fun of me it was difficult not to react, but my mother often reminded me of how great I was and told me stories of being harrassed herself. She assured me that if I held my head up high my tormentor would go away. I never once encountered an incident when that was not true. 

I am not so certain that it is as easy to avoid the barbs of unkind people in today’s environment. We have people who hope to lead us making fun of disabled people and cracking so called jokes that are filled with misogynistic content. I have come to believe that just  holding up my head and walking away from such people may not be enough to to stop the viral spread of bullying behaviors. We have to call such actions out for the horror that they are. We have to hold people accountable for being abusive. Our children are watching and if we show them that we do not care when someone is horrible, they will begin to believe that kindness a sign of weakness. They will begin to solve problems with anger and violence.

I has been proven again and again that the children of abusive parents often become abusive as well. I once had a friend who was dating a young man who confided to her that his father beat his mother frequently. On several occasions he even left his home and stayed with her because he wanted to get away from what was happening in his family. Sadly nobody ever did anything to stop the cycle of violence. The incidents happened again and again. Then one day the young man snapped when he was with my friend and began to slap her around. When she immediately broke off the relationship he realized that he was mirroring his father and was stunned into seeking help both for himself and his family. He rescued his mother and then worked on his own anger control. I often wonder if this turnaround would have happened if my friend had not condemned his treatment of her immediately.

We can’t just look away when we see and hear unkindness. We have to begin addressing it in our homes, our schools and in the public domain. If we are honest we know that allowing bullies to have power over us is the fastest way to lose our freedoms our identities. We should show our children the importance of kindness in everything we do. Sometimes that also means noticing who is being hurt, helping them feel worthwhile and holding their oppressors accountable. It also means demanding kindness from those who would be our leaders and turning away from those willing to debase someone and call it a joke.

This is the time of year when i think about my family. We are an imperfect lot just as most families are. My father died in a car accident with hints that he may have been inebriated from celebrating with his coworkers on the evening before Memorial Day. My mother had bipolar disorder that frequently left her oscillating between dark depression and the paranoia of mania. Early on I learned the importance of loving everyone in my big crazy extended family in spite of any flaws that I witnessed in them or from myself. For the most part each person worked hard to be kind and loving. I have found decades of solace in them even as their numbers have begun to wane. They have been a constant source of love in times when I began to waver or feel despair. 

If I had one Bible story to name as my favorite it would surely be The Prodigal Son. It epitomizes the kind of forgiveness that seems to be the central message that Jesus of Nazareth brought to the world. He eschewed warnings of fire and damnation in favor of redemption and second chances. Over and over again he purposely chose to remind us that he came to save us, not condemn us. For me the message of Christmas is all about the power of love and its transformational possibilities. 

In this year of 2024 we humans seem to be engaged in a never ending quarrel with one another that has brought splits among friends and family members and fomented wars between nations. We are even using our religious beliefs as cudgels to judge and batter each other, justifying our political choices as though they have been ordained by Jesus himself. We have become judgmental, twisting our ethics to allow innocent people to suffer. The result here in the United States of America is a division between citizens that is as wide as the Grand Canyon with our newly elected president, Donald Trump, boasting about the retribution he intends to wreak on anyone who has ever disagreed with him. He and his cabinet choices are the antithesis of the message of hope and peace that was born on that first Christmas of long ago. 

Sometimes a story of unconditional love and forgiveness lives among us even in such difficult times. This past weekend we saw such a selfless demonstration when President Joe Biden pardoned his son, Hunter, of all the crimes that he has committed. It was an act that we all needed to see, a father embracing his imperfect son without apology. President Biden understood full well that Hunter had been a diversionary target that was designed to hurt him more than his son. In a stunning show of true fatherly love he redirected the slings and arrows back toward himself where he believes they belong. It was an act of courage that should inspire us all. 

Who among us would not do the same for a son or a daughter? How many of us have watched someone we love become addicted to alcohol or drugs or eating or sex? How helpless have we felt when a family member or friend decided to end life with suicide? As a child or a parent or a friend we have all experienced bitter disappointments from those to whom we are the closest. We have even struggled with our own blunders and sins. Those of us who follow Jesus revel in the second chances that he offers us. We fall, repent and get back up to try again to be our best. This is what life is all about. This is what Jesus was trying to tell us as even as he died on a cross like a convicted criminal. 

Whether we believe in God or not, the story of Jesus is a powerful reminder of how we each should strive to live. It is not about judging or spurning those whom we do not understand, but only about unabashedly loving the people that we encounter, even the ones who confound us with behaviors that we do not understand. 

Somehow of late we have faltered all across the world. After the tragedy of the Covid pandemic we should have embraced life and each other with abandon but instead fear has divided us. Our goal should not be to wipe out what we do not personally like but rather to insure that we protect the individual rights of every person. This is what our Founding Fathers intended when they set up our nation nearly two hundred fifty years ago. They never envisioned a country as vast and diverse as ours has become, but they would have wanted everyone under our big tent to feel comfortable being themselves. Abraham Lincoln understood that he had to free the slaves. Teddy Roosevelt saw that we needed unpolitical agents to run the vast programs that helped to protect every citizen. Franklin Roosevelt and every President after him until Donald Trump understood that their roles as leaders included even those who voted against them. It is only Trump who seems to believe that loyalty to him is more important than abiding by the Constitution. He is setting up a kinglike cabinet filled with loyalists whose only goal is to please their master and those who comply with him. 

In this holy season we all must take time to remember why Jesus came to this earth and the lessons that he taught us. Nothing he said condemned others. Everything he did was beautiful and loving. We would all do well to celebrate with open hearts and a willingness to embrace rather than to spurn.  The reason for the season is forgiveness.

I first met Shirley and the two Judys when the nuns at our church decided to leave their jobs as religious educators to do pastoral work with the sick and needy. Suddenly the Continuing Christian Education program needed two leaders to administer the challenge of finding, training and supporting the program that provided our youngest parishioners with weekly classes designed to teach them about the tenets of the Catholic Church. The departure of the two beloved women who had created and managed the CCE program necessitated a search for individuals who might replace them. An earnest attempt to find other nuns to step into their shoes proved to be futile, so for the first time lay persons would have to do the job. That’s when Shirley and I came into the picture.

I was stunned to receive a call from the good Sisters asking me to come talk with them at the parish offices. I had no idea what the meeting was going to be about but I did not hesitate to accept their invitation. After a few pleasantries they got to the heart of the matter and asked me to accept the position of Co-Director of the CCE program. They explained that I would shepherd the Pre-School and Elementary group and that a woman named Shirley who had already agreed to take the job would be the head of the middle school and high school classes. 

I explained that I was taking classes at the University of Houston in the hopes of finishing my degree and beginning a full time teaching job, but the nuns discussed ways that I would be able to balance all of that with a great deal of flexibility. When I asked why they had even thought of me, they pointed to the energy and excitement of the one class that I taught each Sunday morning. They saw me as a leader and wanted to tap into what they viewed as my potential. Since I have always loved a good challenge I found myself accepting their proposal as they outlined my duties and apologized that the salary of four thousand dollars a year was so low. They laughed and explained that the parishioners were not yet accustomed to paying for the talents of lay people but that hopefully that would one day change. 

I was in my late twenties raising two very young daughters at the time, taking classes at the university, and serving as a teacher at a local pre-school two mornings a week. Somehow I created a schedule that would allow me to accomplish all of my tasks and still be a good mom and wife and give my new job the attention it desired. Then it was time to meet my co-worker, Shirley and the two Judys who would be essential to making everything work 

Shirley and I instantly hit it off. She was smart, fun and energetic. Best of all she was delightfully filled with laughter while also knowing how to run a tight ship. I felt that with the help of the women we would eventually call the “two Judys” we would be just fine. One Judy would maintain our budget with precision and the other would serve as a receptionist, attendance clerk and all around individual willing to help with any need. Both Judys had already worked with the good nuns for years and were welcoming to the two newbies that we were, A legendary team was born. 

Things were not always smooth because there were individuals who were wary of allowing two ordinary women to be in charge of the religious education of their children. They longed for the nuns who had been such a fixture of the parish and somehow hoped that our tenure would only be temporary until more religious women might be found. For the most part though we were embraced by everyone and when things got a bit tough we rallied around each other. I grew to love Shirley and the two Judys as though they were my sisters. 

We all worked together for a couple of years until I had earned my degree and landed a full time job teaching mathematics. With great reluctance I had to leave the wonderful women who had made me laugh and smile and just feel wonderful. I suggested that my dear friend, Pat, would be a great replacement for me and so I left the program in exceptionally good hands. I decided that our sisterhood should never end and so I began a tradition of meeting up at least once a year at Christmas time. That tradition has continued to the present day and my relationship with Shirley the two Judys and Pat only grew stronger over the years. 

Shirley has always been a survivor, able to overcome any challenges that came her way. When she became single again she had to adapt her lifestyle to the economic changes that came. She worked at different jobs as a tax specialist and continued her love of cooking. I was lucky to be the recipient of her banana bread and strawberry preserves. She seemed to be the master of so many trades and an inspiration to all of us who know her. 

The two Judys continued to work for the church. They were loved quite rightly by all of the parishioners. Pat grew the program and became as much of an admired fixture at the church as the Judys had always been.

One of the Judys died a few years back, a shocking development considering that she was still quite young. Nonetheless our “Church Lady” meetings continued. then Pat also died from cancer that seemed so unlikely in a woman who had always been the picture of good health. Shirley, Judy and I continued our tradition and often spent hours laughing together and suggesting that we should get together more often than once a year. 

Not long ago Shirley had a stroke that left her unable to speak or take care of herself. She has been in a nursing home where her daughter Chrystal regularly visits. Covid prevented Judy and I from visiting but the two of us still got together and spoke of how much we appreciated Chrystal for keeping us apprised of Shirley’s situation with photos and anecdotes that make us smile. Somehow it is heartbreaking to see Shirley looking so vacant but heartwarming to observe the loving care that Chrystal brings to her. 

Judy and I have spoken of going to see Shirley but I suppose we both worry that she will not know who we are or that we will not know how to act in her presence. I keep telling myself that Shirley would have already been to see either of us numerous times. She was unafraid of difficult situations and always knew exactly what to say on any occasion. 

I loved everyone of those ladies with whom I worked. I will always be grateful to the nuns for giving me such a wonderful purpose with incredible people. The memories of our time together are golden and I suppose it is time for me to gather my courage and do the right thing just as I did when I accepted that job long ago. It’s well best time to go visit Shirley if only to let her and Chrystal know how much I love them both. it is certainly what Shirley would do if the table were turned.  

I’ve found myself thinking more and more about those expiration dates on food than I once did. It’s not so much that I’m worried about whether or not an item is safe to eat, but rather my concern is about the very idea that each of us have an expiration date that is not listed anywhere. We simply do not know when our time on this earth will be over. 

Growing older has reminded me that nobody lives forever and neither will I. While I feel quite healthy at the moment I realize that my status might change in a heartbeat. My social life these days is sadly punctuated with funerals and memorial services for once active friends. I now know more people who have left this earth than those still around to live to their lives. It can be a rather depressing state of affairs if I too often think about how uncertain my future has become as has that of the other two people who reside in my home. Instead I mentally force myself to live in the moment, enjoying small pleasures while I am still able to do so while also attempting to be logical about the future. I want to make my transitions in live as pleasant as possible for both me and my children.

There has been a great deal of focus on people getting too old to be leaders during this year’s political campaigns. We began with two old men who are older than I am running for President of the United States. I noticed right away that both of them were struggling to be as sharp as they once were. I know from my own experience that I’m not the fireball of energy that I once was. I can be ready to take on the world in one moment and sent to my bed with spasms in my back the next. The fact is that there comes a time when we might all do well to gracefully turn over the hard work of living to the younger generation rather than grasping to maintain our dominance. 

I’ve watched my father-in-law slowly lose his sharp wit in the two and a half years that he has been living with us. It’s taken time for him to admit that he is incapable of doing some of the things that were once second nature to him. He understandably attempts to be in charge of his own destiny and it is difficult for him to allow others to handle the tasks that he has always completed so well. Nonetheless, he and all of us would do well to have the wisdom and humility to know when it is time to step back and allow others who are more fit to help us through however many months or years we have before our individual expiration dates come due. 

Hubris is a human flaw that is the stuff of legends. We all want to be the kind of person who lives with meaning and vitality but sometimes the best sign that we are doing well is in knowing when to step back and admit to needing help. When we set aside our pride and demonstrate trust for those who are younger we are demonstrating more wisdom that when we keep insisting on doing things that might be dangerous to ourselves and others. 

I’m a fan of the television program Slow Horses. The latest season features the deterioration of one of the character’s grandfather who had at one time been a powerful man. It is a sad but common story of our human tendencies to weaken as we grow older and older. I cried watching the younger man attempting to help the older man who had always been his role model. Nobody enjoys seeing anyone grow weak and unable to be independent. It is nonetheless easier when the person who needs our help is willing to accept it.

My own grandfather was rather amazing all the way through his nineties but he very wisely changed his habits on his own. He found a safe place to live where he might be watched in case he became ill. He gave up driving when he celebrated his ninetieth birthday. Nobody had to beg him to do those things. He simply understood the dangers in lying to himself about his waning abilities. He was logical about when and how to surrender many of the tasks that he once did on his own. He kept us informed of his state of health and mind and told us how he was adjusting to his changing situation. He was a delight to watch as he grew old with grace. 

I am already discussing how my own future may change with my daughters. I have promised to hand them the keys to my car at whatever point in time that it is no longer safe for me to be driving. I discuss possible living scenarios with them knowing that whether I prefer it or not ,the time may come when I need constant care, I don’t want to ask them to accept that role when I there are other resources. As someone who spent years taking care of my mother and now my father-in-law I can attest to the reality that it is an incredibly difficult task especially when the person needing the care insists on doing everything his or her way. My grandfather showed me that it can be a pleasant experience by honoring and respecting us in helping him make the best decisions. It was only in the last months of his life that his mind clouded over and he became difficult. Before that he had been a brilliant example of how to grow old.

There are a very large number of us who are rapidly aging and trying to remain as young as possible. Sometimes we forget that we worked hard to raise our children so that that would be capable of taking over as we became less and less able to be totally independent. We would all do well to let the young folk know that we believe in them. It’s time that we hear how they would like to see the world progress. It’s time that we let them be partners in making each of our lives more serene. It’s time to trust that we taught them well enough that they will do what is best for all of us. It does not have to be a battle up to the moment when our expiration dates arrive. We can instead be like my grandfather who so wisely understood how to change and adapt and allow us to take the helm.