Life Is Sacred

An Angry Catholic

2012-01-31T21:30:00.000-08:00

Christianity is under attack in this country. This is no secret. And the one church that seems to be bearing the brunt of this attack is the Roman Catholic Church.

In the last several years, a very few members of the Catholic clergy have been proven guilty of the most heinous of crimes--sexual abuse of children. These priests and the bishops who covered for them are the lowest of the low and all should be prosecuted for their crimes. They have darkened the reputation of a Church that has done an enormous amount of good throughout the ages. Perhaps these scandals are the justification of the attacks that are now being carried out. I am not certain. But what I am certain of is this: it is time for Catholics who love their faith and the Church that brings that faith to them to stand up for the faith and cry foul no matter who the culprit is.

The most egregious perpetrator is the Federal Government of the United States of America. Namely, President Barack Obama and his administration. Recently, his administration announced that the church and all those religiously affiliated institutions must, within a year, provide ALL contraceptive services up to and including abortion. There are to be no exceptions.

This is an unprecedented move on behalf of the Federal Government. It is the total denial of religious freedom. Catholics are being told that in a year's time they must provide services that the Church roundly condemns. It forces good, dedicated professionals into positions of carrying out procedures that most, if not all, do not believe in and find abhorrent. Under Obamacare, doctors, nurses, and other health care providers will have to provide contraceptive services regardless of what they believe or feel about them.

What happened to the precious separation of church and state that the liberal establishment parades about during the holidays when the annual assault on manger scenes depicting the birth of Christ plays out? How can the government dictate these kind of terms to a religiously based organization? We are told that it is only fair, that this will include all and provide a level playing field. All of this is nothing but a well crafted propaganda scheme hidden behind the cloak of fairness to completely minimize an icon of an institution who has traditionally provided moral guidance to society.

It is time for Catholics in the pews to stand up and state in no uncertain terms that this is unacceptable. It is time to call these tactics what they really are: a power grab designed to extinguish any societal influence the church and her teachings have left in society.

Obama lied when he assured Americans that abortion would not be covered under his insurance scam. Certainly, it may not be spelled out in the pages of the massive document! But it is there in the fine print. Obama is determined to eliminate all barriers to this most abhorrent of societal crimes. Cloaked under the guise of "women's reproductive health," this move to provide abortion and other abortifactents is a calculated move on the part of the President to bring secularism into full flower in American society.

A growing number of bishops throughout the country have stood up and voiced their vehement objections to this declaration. Letters from the shepherds of the church have been written to their congregations and have been read from countless pulpits throughout the country. They are insistent that this will not happen and that they will not abide by the administration's ruling. They have told the laity that they cannot accomplish the blocking of this action on their own. They have spelled out to the laity that it is their duty to contact their representatives, senators, and the president himself, vocalizing their objection to this move in no uncertain terms.

Catholic laity must rise! We must make our voices heard. This is an election year and your elected officials will listen with a little more interest because they want to keep their jobs. We must make it crystal clear to them, in no uncertain terms, that if they allow this travesty to come about, the Catholic vote will most certainly turn against them.

We can no longer stand in the shadows and allow the bishops to do all the work. Priests must step up in the pulpit and educate the laity as to what is going on even at the risk of a backlash in the form of diminishing offerings. We all must become defenders of the faith if our faith means anything to us. We can all talk a good game but we must now show that our words have teeth as shown by our actions.

This kind of action should not, however, be limited to Catholics. All Christians are threatened by the Obama administration move. We must all set aside our differences and work to see that this provision of Obamacare never sees the light of day. We all believe in the same God and worship His Son who came to save the world from just such enslavement. We must unite and stand down Obama and his bent towards silencing us.

Another incident just a few days ago also caught my attention. In Rhode Island, a group of Catholic school girls were attending a pro-life rally at the state capitol. Suddenly, wall street occupiers burst on to the scene and began chanting obscenities at the group. One of the members of the occupiers climbed one of the capitol columns and dumped a box of condoms onto the girls. Then, near the close of the event, when a priest tried to end the rally with a prayer, the occupiers surrounded the podium and began shouting again, preventing the priest from even uttering a prayer.

It seems that liberals always proclaim that they want diversity and inclusion. They welcome all points of view and do not interfere with the rights of others. This bunch proved them dead wrong.

Liberals do not like diversity unless that diversity happens to agree with their point of view. They want freedom of speech and while they have every right to voice their opinion on the abortion issue, they simply do not have the right to prevent others from speaking out on their opposing views. They do not have the right to assault someone with condoms.

Did you hear about this story? Probably not because the main stream media has chosen not to utter one syllable of this news. Instead, you have to rely on websites like Fox News and other websites who are not afraid to highlight this depraved act. Had this been a Tea Party tactic, it would have been the lead story on each network newscast and rightly so. But this was the actions of a group backed by President Obama and his administration and so they are granted the mantel of protection of the elite.

Religion in general, and Christianity in particular is under attack in this society. It requires all of us who say we follow Jesus Christ to raise our voices as one and shout as loudly as we can, "No more!" These are serious issues that effect every American and every American had better pay attention to what the government is attempting to do because, I promise, they will not stop with Christianity!

The House That Gives Life

2011-12-28T18:43:00.000-08:00

Recently, the house in the photo above, was sold and a new family moved in. So what? Well, this house was the Smith Family home for many years. When it was first built, it was one of the only houses in the area. Now, it is but one among many in a densely populated subdivision.

For years, this house was the center of life for the Smiths. The family gathered each year to celebrate Christmas, the favorite family holiday. Packages nearly dwarfed the Christmas tree placed strategically in the center of the bay window for all to see and enjoy. Peals of laughter and excitement could always be heard those Christmas Eve Nights as adults and children alike gathered together to welcome the Christ Child. The next day, the aroma of a freshly baked turkey nearly the size of the kitchen itself permeated the house. The warmth of a crackling fire in the fireplace punctuated the air, adding to the warm feeling of the season.

Birthdays and anniversaries were noted and celebrated within these walls as well. No one was ever forgotten. All were welcome as the family's matriarch and patriarch looked on in joy and contentment at their growing family. They converted this house into a home and it was to this place that all would eventually come at one time or another throughout the year just to be "home."

But time passes and things change. Children grow up and become adults. Grandchildren are added to the joy and celebrations become larger and larger. Soon, great-grandchildren make an appearance and the joy of new life makes the home feel indescribably warm.

Here, within these four walls, the Smiths gave life. The house provided shelter but soon became a part of the family, always drawing those who call themselves Smith back to within its walls.

Years passed and the parents aged along with everyone else. Along with age, sadly, can come infirmity and the first signs that life is not endless. Six years ago, in the spring of 2005, the family matriarch left this world suddenly and unexpectedly. Yet another family gathering, this one far more somber than any other in its history, took place. But even in this gathering there were remembrances of life and joy.

More time passed and on an early spring morning in 2010, the patriarch of the Smith Family passed. The house that had become a home, the home that had become a part of the family, now stood empty.

Much work was needed to clear out several decades of living. Once the material goods of a life well lived had been removed, the family home went on the market. But there was no quick sale here! Finally, after a little over 18 months, the family home was sold.

There was a certain amount of relief when the sale was completed. It represented a closure of sorts, a time for the family to move on with only memories and a myriad of pictures to accompany them. But there is also a great deal of sadness in this event. This home, filled with love and life, is no longer a part of the family. A new family now occupies its walls and the only walks through its hallways, living room, bedrooms, and family room is in the mind. And while this is a treasure, it can never match the sheer joy of just being there.

But the story does not end here. This house, built several decades ago, housed a family full of life, love, energy, and non-stop fun. It provided shelter to all who entered it. It endured Midwestern seasonal changes as though it was proudly protecting its occupants living safely and securely inside.

Now the house enters a new chapter. A new family resides within its walls. New pictures have been hung. Perhaps a fire, the first in many years, has been lit in the hearth. The comings and goings of every day life now provide a new rhythm to its existence and it is once again filled with life. And that is what this existence is all about. Life has its changes. They are inevitable. Some are good. Some not so good. But all represent an evolution of life, a chance to grow and change based upon what has happened in the past.

Another family has celebrated its first Christmas in their new home. New traditions have begun within its walls and somewhere deep in our hearts we yearn to go back just one more time for a stroll through the living room, to climb the stairs to the bedrooms, or even take a chance at the basement! But we will never take that stroll because life has changed, has moved on. And while there is an emptiness of sorts because the house is gone, we will forever remember the laughter, the joy, the sheer pace of life for when this was home. May those who not occupy it find the same comfort that this old friend brought us for so many years!

A Christmas Story

2011-12-23T22:09:00.000-08:00

Recently, the home in which my elderly mother lives threw a Christmas party for the residents. Musicians led the group in traditional Christmas carols and songs that I am sure took many of them back to days when life was filled with family, friends, work, kids, and everything else that constitutes an active life. Many of them sang along with great spirit and vitality even though their tired bodies seldom are able to display such energy.

Life was etched on their faces. One gentleman who sat near me was just over 100 years old. As I watched him, I noticed he sang with all the zest of a twenty something. His face lit up as old familiar tunes like "Frosty the Snowman," "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," and "Silent Night" sounded throughout the room. I am certain that he was unaware that he smiled as he sang every note with an energy that I am sure he had not had in some time.

In other corners of the room, other residents sang out, often way off key, but the sheer pleasure they had in recounting and singing these old traditional Christmas songs brought them to life. The emcee of the festivities who is also the Activities Director of the home, strolled through the room talking to each of the residents, kidding them about nearly everything from their age to how many meds they take on a daily basis. Peels of laughter followed all his incredibly corny but gentle remarks. He brought smiles to faces that probably had had very little reason to smile in some time.

Or course, there were a handful of residents who sat there silently, lost in their own world. But they were no less a part of the community than anyone else. They had as much attention paid to them as everyone else. Still, it was sad to see them so disconnected from the present world, living in the past somewhere unknown to those around them.

As I looked at each face, it suddenly struck me that here is where a very unique aspect of God come to life. In these elderly citizens who spent years toiling at their lives, raising families, building businesses and industries, and being productive citizens, can be found a spirit of life that only God can instill. Many have serious medical problems that would knock most of us off our feet. Yet, somehow, they find ways to keep going. Against all odds, many of them are living well past 100 years old and manage to still contribute to the community in ways beyond the material and monetary.

In this room was the accumulated wisdom of lives led through great struggles and magnificent triumphs. Here was the "Greatest Generation," the generation that saved the world from dictatorial domination and established a way of life that became the envy of the world. Here were the remnants of a proud generation fading from our midst with little notice. And in the midst of these aged treasures, God is very clearly present.

He is present in every joyful smile whether elicited by an old Christmas carol or a memory sparked by one of these old favorites. He is even present in those who are off in some other bygone world because in that world they find comfort and solace. His love for the simple gestures of love was apparent every time a resident was offered a cookie and a broad smile of thanks swept across their face. In these ways and countless others, He ministers to us through those who have gone before us.

His smile is the smile of the 93 year old woman who remembered the first time she ever heard "Jingle Bells." His playfulness was in the twinkling eye of the 102 year old man as he sang "Walking in a Winter Wonder Land." His tenderness was in the face of the 85 year old woman as she softly, almost prayerfully, chanted the verses to "Silent Night." In those moments He reached out to all of us in that room in very personal ways.

In the same way over 2000 years ago, He made Himself manifest in the face of an infant child born to a poor couple in a far off, nearly forgotten part of the world. Here, in this obscure country of strange people, the Savior of the World became flesh and dwelt among us. Here He reached out to us through His Son in so many and diverse ways that He continues to touch our hearts today even though so often we ignore His loving attention. He never gives up. He always persists because He loves us for who we are.

In a very real sense, the Christmas Story was retold in the faces of these elderly residents. There were no angels announcing the birth of a Savior, only the expressions of years and years of life and their encounters with the living child born in that cave so long ago. The hopes, the fears, the sorrows, the joys were all revealed in those moments as God in His infinite mercy and compassion revealed Himself to be the Master of us all. He has given all of us to each other as a gift just as He gave His only Son to us as a gift on that dark night centuries ago. We must learn to look at each other as this gift and give the respect, dignity, honor and love due to one another. In this way, the Christmas Story will live on in a very unique way within each one of us. And in this way, we shall experience the coming of the Lord every day and maintain the Christmas spirit throughout the year!

Have a Blessed and Merry Christmas!

A Very Special World Series

2011-10-28T22:27:00.000-07:00

The St. Louis Cardinals are the 2011 Baseball Champions of the world! And this baseball crazy town will revel in this amazing series for years to come. And why not? Back at the end of August, no one, and I mean no one, expected this team to be anywhere but on the golf course or off fishing somewhere right about now. But the team, thankfully, didn't listen to all the "experts."

This victory means a great deal to the City of St. Louis and the surrounding area. It goes far beyond baseball. Unemployment continues to be high. Crime in certain parts of the city runs rampant. Prospects of future economic prosperity seem uncertain at this point. But this team gave everyone here a bread in all the depressing news of the day.

All of us watched, with skepticism at first, as the Cardinals began to pull things together at the end of August. Still, you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who thought at that point that the Cardinals would make it to the post season. Yet, the team kept pounding away steadily at its opponents, winning one series after another and the gap between them and the Atlanta Braves began to shrink. The Cardinals had to catch Atlanta if they were to enter the playoffs as a wild card. Even half way through the month that seemed an impossibility.

Yet, as the month progressed, so did the Cardinals until, finally, on a night late in September, the home team beat the Houston Astros and waited to see how the Braves would fare in Atlanta. If Atlanta won, the Cardinals would head home to clean out their lockers and make plans for a long winter. If, however, Atlanta lost, the Cardinals would clinch the wild card spot and would continue to play. With the team and Cardinal Nation on pins and needles, Atlanta extended the game into extra innings, exaggerating the tension even more. Finally, late that night, Atlanta lost and the Redbirds headed to the post season where, by the way, no one expected them to do anything! The rest, as they say, is history.

What this team did in the waning days of summer and early days of autumn lifted the spirits of all who followed them. They helped us to momentarily forget our woes. Their exploits on the field captivated millions as they boldly marched through the Fall Classic. Sure, unemployment and crime remained, but at least for a few brief hours of an evening, those things were momentarily pushed into the background.

There was an excitement in the air that you could feel everywhere you went. Much of the talk was about how they were doing. Yet, no one dared think that the St. Louis Cardinals, who barely made it into the playoffs, could possibly do the impossible--win the World Series. But somehow they did and in doing so they have endeared themselves to a hurting community in a very special way.

This is what sports is all about. Both teams put their best on the field and competed to the best of their ability. There was no chest thumping on either side, no sniping, no personal affronts to stir up the team and engage the media. No, this was pure competition and we loved it.

As the year fades and the holidays come upon us, the memories of this year's version of the St. Louis Cardinals will burn brightly during the dreary winter days ahead. Through sports and the competitive spirit of the 2011 World Series, this community came together for a common purpose. The Cardinals became ambassadors of a sort, who united groups into one huge cheering section and reveled in a world championship. This is the stuff of heroes, the ability to bring together widely diverse elements of a community for a common purpose and we thank them for the ride.

Congratulations St. Louis Cardinals. You have done much more than win a World Series!

October. The Month of Splendor

2011-10-09T15:08:00.000-07:00

All months have their special and unique aspects. Even July and August with their stifling heat and humidity have something unique to contribute to our lives. But there is something about the month of October that makes this 31 day stretch more special than any other comparable time.

October is the month of transition. The declining number of hours of sunset now has nature hastily preparing for the cold and desolate months of winter that lie only weeks ahead. Sit back and look out your window and you will see birds eating more and more in preparation either for flight south or the dreary days with little food to be found. Squirrels scamper about the yard, often carrying in their jaws a walnut that has just dropped out of a nearby tree. Even the trees get in on the act as the chlorophyll begins to retreat in the leaves uncovering the spectacular colors of the season most of us wait for with eager anticipation.

It is a time in which we humans begin to convert our lives from mainly outdoor activities to ones spent indoors in the warm glow of the family home. The exception to that is the Friday night ritual called football. All across the land, parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, friends, and the media gather in mostly small stadiums to watch their high school athletes play at America's passion. Marching bands at halftime and stadium blankets are all a part of the ritual as the chill of the October evening descends.

October is a month of magic. It is a month that we all seem to come alive in some fashion, refreshed by the cool breezes from the north. It is the doorway to the holidays and suddenly, a day like Thanksgiving doesn't seem so far off. It is a month when people actually notice nature in all its splendor, when the family jumps into the car to do nothing else but look at the colorful leaves. At no other time does the family just simply take a ride into the countryside for no reason other than to be there!

October's promise is the promise of life fulfilled. After the heat of a long growing season, farmers flock to their fields, gathering in the literal fruits of their labors. Take a ride down a country highway in the Midwest on any given October day and you will see the tell tale columns of dust hanging lazily over the fields that are being harvested. Each dry day now is not a day to be dreaded as they are in the spring as planting gets underway. Rather, a day without rain is a day to be cherished and thankful for during the great harvest. Clear blue skies mean uninterrupted hours of harvesting and that ensures countless livelihoods.

October is the month of life. yes, nature is preparing for her great hibernation, but it is not death. The colors of the trees remind us of just how alive and spectacular nature is. The creatures of the forest gather stores of food not because they fear death, but because they embrace life and instinctively know that the rebirth of spring awaits them. We, too, prepare for the cold months ahead by gathering friends and family together for the day set aside to celebrate life and all it has to offer. We call it Thanksgiving and, for most, it is truly a day of rest, companionship with those we love, and a deep-seeded gratitude for what he have.

Celebrate October. Don't miss one day of it. Absorb it like a sponge because there are no two Octobers alike. This one will come and go and we'll have our memories and photographs to mark the days of this unique one, but know that God will once again grace us with this month of splendor. This magnificent October!

A Birthday Blessing

2011-10-04T19:02:00.000-07:00

I have led a blessed life! It has been a life full of its troubles not unlike anyone else's life. But it has had its great blessings as well. I have had the opportunity to meet and work with some very interesting people whom society considers to be important. I have had the opportunity to travel to fascinating places and experience historical events where they actually took place. I have worked in many different areas. I have seen many things and have been blessed with an education that has opened up the world of learning to me that still happens to this very day. But above all, I have been particularly blessed by one woman of extraordinary character: my wife.

Joan is the strongest person I know in so many ways. We have seen each other through some very harrowing times, growing stronger because of them. The most momentous of these was the battle against breast cancer which threatened her life. It was "our" disease and there wasn't a moment throughout the journey that we were ever without each other.

We have witnessed the advent of grandchildren in our lives. These little gems have brought a joy that only a grandparent can know. These powerhouses of life and love light up tired eyes and weary hearts in ways that are beyond the ability of any author to fully capture. Grandchildren remind you that there is hope in the world, accompanied by smiles and laughter just because you have come to see them.

Companionship is but one element of my relationship with Joan that I cherish. She has always encouraged me to go and do what my heart desires even though it may mean that she has to sacrifice things in order for this to happen. She has encouraged my writing, my continuing education, and my evolution as a human being ins such a selfless way, that I am sometimes overwhelmed. She puts up with my shortcomings and understands me in ways that others cannot possibly even fathom.

She has taught me the meaning of courage. Through the battle with cancer, as the toxic medications employed to combat this dread disease coursed through her veins, she never uttered a word of discouragement or hopelessness. Through the grueling thirty-six rounds of intense radiation therapy, as her skin burned to a point where it literally peeled away from her body exposing raw tissue below, she never once complained about the unbelievable pain, even though she had every right to do so. We experienced a miracle of unknown proportions when we learned that the tumor and all its remnants had died. And this summer, we humbly thanked God for her sixth year without cancer. Joan is just as courageous as the soldier going into battle.

There are so many other things that I could tell you about her, but the one final thing I'll mention, is the fact that she is the love of my life. Yes, we have our troubles, just like any other couple might have. Yes, there have been times when the both of us must have wondered what we got ourselves into. But there has never been a doubt in my mind that my love for her is undying and continues to grow day by day.

Joan is a remarkable woman, She is my companion and I look forward to sharing many more years with her as we slip into the older time of life. She is my support, encouraging me to become the best person I possibly could become. Most of all, however, she is my friend through thick and thin.

Yes, God has blessed me greatly all these years and as I turn 58 I realize that the greatest blessing bestowed upon me has been at my side for many wonderful years. I can't remember a time without her. May we never take each other for granted and continue to see in each other the blessing that God has made each of us to one another.

I am blessed this birthday to have the greatest gift of all, the unconditional love of my wonderful Joan!

9/11 & Noe

2011-09-11T18:36:00.000-07:00

Today, September 11, 2011, marks the tenth anniversary of the attack by terrorists on the United States. As a result, this has been a weekend of retrospection on television. Once again the images of that tragic day have seared their way into our consciousness. Scenes of abject panic in the streets of New York, a blazing Pentagon in Washington, and smoke rising from a newly formed crater in a farmer's field in rural Pennsylvania have all brought back difficult memories.

Dedications and commemorations have taken place in every corner of the land. The nearly 3,000 who perished that day have been remembered in countless ceremonies at the sites of where they actually happened and in the small corners of the villages and towns that dot this expansive country. Sober faced politicians have laid wreaths and spoken words of comfort and compassion. Partisan politics seem to have taken a much deserved vacation for at least one, brief weekend before resuming its mind numbing rhetoric with the beginning of the new week. And this is as it should be.

For our family, today also marks an anniversary, for one year ago this very day, a bundle of energy and joy announced herself to the world. Her name is Noelliah but we call her Noe (Noee) for short. She came into this world with a smile and personality that proclaimed a new day had dawned and the world (at least ours) would never be the same.

This little girl, brought instant joy to her two sisters and proud parents. There is something about her that will not allow you to take your eye off of her. By the time Christmas rolled around, Noe was like bottled energy, all ready to be let loose but not sure exactly where to go with all of it. She grinned from ear to ear her first Christmas day and anyone who spent time with her could have testified that she new the real meaning of the season far better than all the adults in the room because she simply lit up with joy. I held her for a while on that cold and snowy winter afternoon and she was ready to go. Her little legs were always in motion and that infectious smile lit up every feature of that three month old face.

During the course of her first year, she has delighted us with her antics and amazed us at how quickly she has grown. One glance at a photograph reveals that twinkle in her eye that speaks of her love of life even at this tender age. She delights in being with her sisters. She cuddles with mom and warms those long evenings when my son Josh works long hours to support his brood. She lights up as daddy comes home and can't wait to leap into his arms.

Yet, the joy of this first birthday could be tempered with the sadness that history has punctuated this day with. The thought of thousands of innocent people who went to work that morning with no thought of death whatsoever suddenly perishing in a brutal, unprovoked attack could dampen any day. And we could be forgiven if it did. The misery and suffering of that day was enormous and has impacted us all even though most of us did not personally know of anyone who died in the World Trade Center, The Pentagon, or that lonely field in the countryside of Pennsylvania. We are, after all, all connected by our very humanity and the thought of the carnage of that day is certainly a sad and melancholy thought.

Yet, that day with all of its sadness and tragic memories is not the whole story of 9/11. Who would have guessed ten years ago that our family would be blessed on this very day nine years into the future with God's symbol of hope and joy. That is what this day is all about. We are not callous when we think of celebrating the life of this precious child born on one of the most historic day in our nation's history. We are human! Noe has brought a new dimension of life into our midst and it a dimension that demands celebration. She is the embodiment of hope. She is the future. She will have no memory of that awful day that stunned us all. She will have only the history books and stories from those of us who were alive when we were attacked. Every day, little Noe is a reminder that God renews the face of the earth with new life. Every day, every new child is a reminder that life goes on and it is ours to celebrate because despite the difficulties we encounter, each day is a gift.

And so, on this most somber of days, we do take time out to celebrate with all our hearts, the little girl with the big smile and enough energy to keep us all going for years to come. Happy Birthday, Noe, from a grandpa that is grateful to God for the bundle of joy that you truly are!

Faith

2011-09-02T22:00:00.000-07:00

Those of us who profess a belief in God are said to have faith. Faith is a mystery that, no matter how hard we might try, we cannot fully and completely convey its meaning to others. It is too mysterious, too personal to do any definition justice. It is a word that believers use a lot, yet, I wonder how often we take this gift which comes from God, seriously.

To the believer of Jesus Christ, faith is an absolute must. On the surface, our profession of faith in the Son of God seems ludicrous. Let's just explore this for a moment.

We believe that this man who lived two thousand years ago was, in actuality, the Son of God. We believe that He was both God and man. We believed that He lived the perfect life, sinless and in the presence of God, His Heavenly Father. We believe that He spent three years of His life traveling around the land of ancient Israel proclaiming the Kingdom of Heaven and Salvation. We believe that after a time, the civil and religious leaders of the day had Him arrested, put on trial, found guilty of blasphemy, tortured and crucified. But our belief does not stop there. No, we believe that this Jesus Christ not only died on the Cross, but after three days in the tomb, rose from the dead.

Now no right thinking person would really ever come to believe in such a fantastic story. It simply doesn't make sense. It seems like some fairy tale made up to give some sort of comfort and hope to mankind who is awash in a world filled with skepticism and cynicism. It is fairly easy to believer in a story of a man, a rabbi, going from town to town in ancient Israel preaching. That was not all that unusual in those days. And it really isn't much of a stretch to imagine that the authorities of the time would become suspicious of Him as He spoke to the common folk about subjects such as freedom, mercy, and the power of God. But what does stretch the imagination is that this same itinerant preacher, who was killed by the Romans after a brutally process of torture, rose from the dead after three days of being in a sealed tomb.

That is where the gift of faith comes in. We believe in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ not based on some empirical evidence, but rather on faith. Why do we believe? Because Jesus, Who is the Son of God, said that He would rise after being sacrificed for the sins of men. He is Truth. There is no other Truth but that of Jesus Christ. When Pilate asked Him was Truth was, he had no way of knowing that He was looking into the eyes of Truth.

We live near an empty world, devoid of truth. We don't believe things unless they can be seen or detected in some way, shape, matter or form. Scientists are the new High Priests of the age. If a scientist proclaims something as the truth, we take him at his word even though evidence suggests that he is dead wrong about his assertion. Take the debate of when life begins. There is no doubt that human life begins at the moment of conception. Yet, there are those in the scientific community who insist that no one can truly determine the exact moment when a human being comes into existence. Despite the evidence that the newly fertilized egg is now a living human being, millions through the years have steadfastly held their ground to state that no one can tell at what point life begins.

Faith is a gift. Our faith is not really ours! Our faith comes from God through the Holy Spirit. The Spirit has touched our hearts with the call of the Father. We have the option, by virtue of our free will, another divine gift, to accept the call of God to faith or to reject it. One week accept it, we have the responsibility to develop and live it.

My faith has seen me through more than I could ever possibly recount. It has gotten me through the dark moments of my life and has allowed me to become a stronger person because of the difficulties even though there may have been much pain involved. Without this faith, I quite simply am sure that I would not have survived.

When you accept the gift of faith, you begin a journey that guides you to the acceptance of Truth. We cannot accept Truth without faith and without Truth, there can really be no faith. Faith does not make us special. It does, however, allow us to understand how special our relationship with God truly is. Like everything else that God does, faith is given in Love. God loves us so much that His love knows no bounds. He gives us the gift of faith because, as our Creator, He understands us in a perfect way. He knows how we best respond to those things which we truly do not understand. He knows that man, with the remarkable mind that he was given, could not begin to fathom the reality of God, the wonder of Jesus Christ, and the mysterious nature of the Holy Spirit on his own. It is through faith that we come to these realizations.

Faith is not something that you can acquire in a lifetime. It is not like learning how to play the piano in that it can be learned. No, faith is something that is freely given and it is up to us to freely accept it. Faith is given to all. Sadly, many reject this gift because it is too hard to understand and sounds like superstition to the modern ear. It sounds like a throwback to the Middle Ages and things like witchcraft and magic. So it is often rejected out of hand because it simply is not sophisticated in some circles to believe in the things that faith allows us to know.

Cultivate faith. Encourage it in others, especially members of the family. Teach your children the importance of this gift for it is far more valuable than anything life can provide. Remind each other that faith is not easy, it is often demanding and humbling. But it also bestows upon those who cultivate it a sense of peace and serenity that nothing mortal can give.

Most of all, have faith in the one sure being in existence who is worthy of our faith: God. Trust nothing else in your life like you trust God. Surrender to Him in faith and your rewards will be great. Most assuredly, you will still experience the trials and sufferings of life. They are a part of our human nature. But living in faith, the faith found in Truth, all of those things won't matter much in the end. All in this life shall pass. There is nothing permanent about this world. Indeed, this world is merely temporary and shall, one day, pass away. The Truth will not. Without faith, we cannot have Truth and without Truth, there is no hope.

Birthday!!

2011-08-09T21:28:00.000-07:00

It is amazing how fast time passes. When a child, I felt that I would never grow up. The space between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed next to an eternity. A school year passed as quickly as a decade. Days drifted by like a stick floating down a lazy, slow moving stream. It just never seemed like the future would ever arrive.

But that was when I was a child. Now, well into adulthood (some would say very well into adulthood!), I can't seem to get time to slow down. Take the 10th day of August.

This is a very special day in my heart and will be to the last day of my life. Thirty-four years ago on this date, one of the most monumental events happened in my life. At one-thirty and one-thirty nine on a sunny, steamy summer afternoon, my first two children were born. Twins!

Lincoln Michael entered the world only nine minutes prior to his brother Joshua Nathaniel. A father can never truly describe the multitude of feelings that he has that very first moment he is introduced to his first offspring. Your mind spins, trying to fathom what has just happened while wanting to leap for joy announcing to the world at the top of your lungs of your great good fortune.

In the moment that I met my first sons, I'm not sure I was consciously thinking of anything. I was at once exhilarated and overwhelmed. Tears welled up in my eyes as I beheld the greatest gift that God can bestow upon a man.

In that moment, the starting gun of time is cocked and ready to be fired. Before I knew it, the boys were home and life would never be the same. From the time they came home to the time they first entered kindergarten now seems like about two weeks. Once they hit grade school, time flew by so quickly that it was hard to even track it on the calendar. Then high school, college and into adulthood. Time sped up and a month passed as but a day or two.

However, all of us who are of a certain age know this. It is not a mystery. We all say the same thing and because of this, this is really not what this piece is all about.

What it is about is two grown men who I cradled in my arms on that hot summer day 34 years ago. It is about the kind of men they have become despite some of the difficulties that life has produced for them. It is about two brothers who, despite the fact that they are twins, couldn't be much more different in personality.

Life has not always been kind to these two. There were severe disappointments in their young lives that were extremely hard to bare. Those times left their scars and each has dealt with these wounds in their own unique ways.

Sadly, a split occurred between us, caused by a man who did not know who he was or what he wanted out of life. Yet, in spite of all of this, or because of this, each has become an example of what a responsible father should be like.

Both are loving fathers who find their life's joy in the midst of their families. Family life means everything to the both of them as can be seen in how they relate to their children, my grandchildren. They have become the type of fathers that I could only dream about. The love they have for their children takes a backseat to no one and bolsters their children with a sense of well-being and safety. They work hard to provide for their broods so that the life their children inherit will be a better life than they had.

I have a sense of pride on this 34th birth anniversary. It is pride not in anything that I did, for I truly did very little. No, the pride I have is in the kind of men they have become despite huge odds against them. The pride I feel is for the way they conduct their lives from one day to the next, always keeping their priorities in focus and their energy fixed on achieving their goals. The pride I feel is the pride of the kind of husbands they are, nurturing their wives and loving them no matter what life may throw at them.

But the reason for my deep sense of pride is the fact that God blessed me with such exemplary and extraordinary children. I didn't always see them for the gift that they were, but now, with a number of years under my belt and a change of heart that took place several years ago, I realize that they were the greatest gift I have ever been privileged to receive including their sister and younger brother.

My birthday wish for them is that they continue to grow in wisdom and love as they pass through the various phases of life. My birthday wish for them is that one day, they will come to see their children as the greatest, most precious gift ever to be found in the universe. My birthday wish for them is to continue to walk the paths they have chosen with a sense of dignity and integrity that will bestow upon them a mantel of peace and extraordinary pride so that, on their childrens' 34th birthday, they may say "Happy Birthday" and have that greeting mean much more than happiness, but a deep sense of peace and comfort in the midst of their families.

You two have given me great joy over the years and you will be in my heart throughout this very special day!

Happy Birthday Lincoln and Josh!

A Little Christmas Amid the Heat

2011-07-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

With the intense heat and humidity that so many of us have endured this summer, my thoughts will at times take me back in time to cooler, gentler days. One such memory involves, once again, my grandfather.

My grandpa was the world and everything in it as far as I was concerned. He was a man of deep principles and an amazing discipline. He was a hard worker who took great pride and even greater pride in his family.

We were a small family living in a home of simple pleasures. We enjoyed Sunday dinners together each and every week. During the summer, the happiest part of the day came when my mother arrived home from work. We ate dinner, waited the appropriate amount of time for the food to settle, and then we were off to the pool for a swim.

But one of the greatest pleasures I had was the annual decorating of the Christmas tree. My grandpa enjoyed the season but one of the traditions of the season that he didn't look forward to was the purchase of the Christmas Tree. He put it off for as long as he could and then, finally, at the insistence of my grandma, he headed out on a usually inclement night, to pick the family tree.

What he brought back usually, could barely be called a tree. Because he waited so long, often the only trees left in the Christmas Tree lot were the "orphans." These were the trees that had been rejected by everybody else because they just weren't quite good enough.

Our tree was usually scrawny. There were holes and gaps where most trees had branches. Its needles seem to drop off at a mere thought. And its trunk was usually rather serpentine, making it very difficult for my grandpa to line it up in the stand so that the tree would appear straight as an arrow.

Below, you will find a poem that I wrote many years ago about this annual ritual in my home when I was a child. In the poem you have my grandpa and grandma, along with me. While there is no mention of my mother, rest assured, she was right there, helping to decorate this poor creature with the rest of us.

But the main character in the poem is not my grandpa or grandma. It isn't my mother and it certainly isn't me. No, the main "character" of the poem is love. That is what my home was filled with and it was no more powerful and evident than at Christmas. And that is what I hope you get from this little piece. I was fortunate to have grown up in a home of love and peace, the same kind of love and peace that was bestowed upon the world with the birth of Jesus Christ.

So, now, as we all await some fresh, cool, and dry air to break the awful heat of this long summer, allow yourself to be taken back many years to that little living room in my home as the four of us, grandma, grandpa, my mother and I gathered 'round "The Old Man and His Tree."

The Old Man

And his tree

He was a proud man
Who year after year
Brought into our home
A sad, misshapen fir.

He was happy to shelter
Those poor misfit trees
Giving them a place of honor
With dignity and ease.

Proudly he set the tree
In its proper place.
Adjusting to the right, then left
Till it filled that corner space.

“gaps and branches Must be covered,”
Said his wife of many years
As about the tree she hovered
Concealing her laughter’s tears.

Dutifully he twisted
The oh so crooked boughs
Until, upon inspection,
It passed my grandma’s browse.

From the basement came boxes
Filled with ornaments and lights.
They were thoroughly examined
With anticipation and delight.

Carols of the season
Warmed the room
As he took his seat
Taking in pine perfume.

Lights were first
Upon the orphaned tree.
And as they were strung
Something began happening magically.

His cigar smoke circled
Above his old bald head
As the tree took shape
The homely, now somehow beautiful instead.

He smiled and hummed
As the ornaments were fixed.
And we were cheerful
To have the right color mix.

Tinsel was then hung
As the lights danced to and fro.
Christmas filled the room
With its special kind of glow.

I climbed the shaky ladder
And reached for the tree top.
I placed a shining star gently
And all came to a stop.

Oh, for those days
When an old man and his tree
Became a powerful symbol
Of his special love for me.

Silent night, holy night.
The gentlest night of the year.
I fondly remember grandpa
With a sentimental tear.

The Ground Zero Cross

2011-07-28T21:10:00.000-07:00

I didn't think much could shock me these days what with the so-called leaders in Washington "working" on debt limit legislation like a bunch of kindergartners at recess. However, I am wrong. Once again, I have been shocked and at the same time outraged.

First, just a little background. On September 13, 2001, just two days after the nightmare of 9/11, one of the rescuers picking very carefully and slowly through the dangerous heap that used to be the World Trade Center, discovered three bodies. He signaled to his fellow workers and the bodies were carefully and respectfully removed. Looking further, this rescuer noticed something unusual among the unbelievable devastation. There, in the midst of the giant stack of rubble were two steel beams that had been sheared off in the form of a cross.

This brave, hardened rescuer dropped to his knees and began to cry. He brought others to the area in which the cross was located. No one could believe their eyes. Cranes were quickly moved in and the several ton cross was carefully removed. Those pieces of broken steel became a focal point for all who continued to search for more victims of the worst attack on US shores.

Eventually, the cross was removed from the site as the pile of broken buildings was hauled away and taken to its new temporary home, St. Peter's Roman Catholic Church in lower Manhattan. There it has remained, a symbol of hope and love found in the middle of the horror of that day in September.

Now, as the 9/11 Memorial Museum takes shape at Ground Zero, the cross has been moved to become one of the artifacts that will be on display for public viewing. Many are drawn to this powerful icon of hope and comfort. However, in the political correct lunacy that dominates this society, a move has been made to stop the placing of the cross on the site.

An organization called American Atheists has filed suit in court to remove the cross claiming that the placement of the cross is actually promoting Christianity. David Silverman, a spokesman for the group seems to be angry that there will be no symbol on the premises to honor those non-believers who died in the attack. He supposedly is upset that no other religious symbol will be on display including a symbol that represents the nothingness of his beliefs. In other words, there will be nothing in place to represent nothing!

Silverman, in his apparent blind anger and hate for anything Christian, actually blames Jesus for the attacks on the World Trade Center. He said that the Christian God "couldn't be bothered to stop the Muslim terrorists or prevent 3,000 people to be killed in his name."

It is hard to say how this will turn out and whether or not the WTC Cross will be allowed to remain as a centerpiece in the museum. But what is clear is that elements of this society have clearly lost their minds. So many of those of the same persuasion of Mr. Silverman demand that the Muslims be allowed to build a mosque just a stone's throw from Ground Zero. Yet, a cross, created from the chaos of that horrible morning, is not proper to be put into a museum where thousands lost their lives.

I didn't really believe that there was a concerted effort in this country to eliminate Christianity from society. However, this action of the American Atheists, along with nearly countless other examples of actions taken to remove any vestige of the Christian faith from society, has begun to convince me otherwise.

It is time for we who believe in Jesus Christ and call ourselves Christians, to stand up for this beautiful faith, a faith that far more people belong to than any other in the United States. We cannot allow this lunacy to continue. For too long, Christians have remained silent on such things and, as a result, many Christian traditions that had deep meaning for many have been declared unconstitutional and removed from sight. Take for example the annual battles of municipalities against their own citizens who want to erect manger scenes to commemorate the birth of Christ on the court house square, a practice which often has gone back for decades. In nearly every instance, a law is passed, a court ruling decreed to remove the "offending" display of religious fervor.

We must pray continually as Jesus urged us to do so. But we must also make our voices heard. Believe it or not, despite what the media or Washington politicians say, there are issues that are far more important than the current subject that have been debated ad nauseum for weeks on end to no avail.

We cannot allow our religious rights and freedom of speech be eroded any longer. Pray, get involved by watching your representatives, federal, state, and local. Write letters, protest and always do so in imitation of the Master we claim to follow. We must be firm but gentle in our approach but if we value our religious freedom, we cannot sit idly back and watch it be taken away. This would be a far worse legacy to hand to the younger generations than trillions of dollars of debt!

Grandpa and The Old Front Porch

2011-07-24T15:04:00.000-07:00

Its funny how this hot weather, miserable and seemingly unending, has managed to spark some pleasant memories that have taken me back to simpler, more carefree days. Life passes us by at such a rapid rate that nearly everything now appears as a blur that no sooner appears on one horizon and, before you know it, disappears over the other. Maybe that's a product of growing older or maybe it's just the world becoming more and more complex. Or, perhaps, it may be a combination of those two. Whatever the reason, my world is flying by all too fast.

As I said, the hot weather, this endless stretch of one hundred degree plus days triggered my memories of times that have long since come and gone. The house I grew up in on Summer Street was not a large house. It had a couple of bedrooms, a living room, dining room, and something a bit bigger than a walk-in closet called a kitchen. Across the front of the house stretched a comfortable old porch that served as a second home to us during the hot summer months.

There are many pleasures connected with my childhood, most revolving that old house on the tree-lined brick street. Many of those memories center on that front porch. The porch was at one time completely open. Built in the mid-twenties, it was a perfect meeting place for neighbors who would gather in those days to talk and share the news of the day in lieu of cable, satellite, or incessant Internet surfing. It was on these steps and on the porch swing that these neighbors became more of an extended family than just a group of people living in close proximity of one another. Lives intertwined. People became involved in one another's day-to-day activities because they were close to each other and knew practically everything there was to know about the other.

By the time I was born and began my journey through childhood, my grandpa had the porch closed in. Now, instead of wide-open space, there were screens in the summertime and windows in the winter. Still, that old porch was a meeting place of the neighborhood. In those days (the 1950's) people seldom moved from where they may have lived for thirty or forty years. The only thing that had changed since the house was built in the twenties was the fact that now the neighbors could enjoy themselves on a hot summer evening sitting behind the protection of screens. No more constant swatting of mosquitoes or rain blowing in during a summer evening thunderstorm.

I played on that porch constantly. It was my summer home in the days before air conditioning became commonplace. At one end of the porch hung a beautiful old porch swing that had seen many, many seasons come and go. It was the pride of the room. My grandfather babied that beloved piece of furniture as though it were an infant. He would carefully hang it from several massive hooks anchored to the ceiling every spring as the first hint of warm weather arrived. During the long winter, he cleaned and painted it despite the fact that the swing took up a good part of the basement. Throughout the summer, he invited people to sit and have a swing, joking that it would be the only breeze they'd feel on a summer's night. As the cool air of fall arrived and we were forced inside, he would carefully remove the swing from the hooks and take it to the basement where another season of babying this prize possession would take place.

The rest of the porch was populated with various kinds of comfortable chairs all made of the heaviest gauge of metal or thick wood. There was not a piece of plastic in sight! Seems like everyone had their assigned seating. My grandfather sat on the side of the porch opposite the swing. It was here that he assumed his role as king of his castle. I remember with fondness those long ago Sundays.

My grandmother and grandfather always attended the 10:00 AM Mass on Sunday. My mother and I would follow at the 11:00 o'clock Mass. While we were in church, my grandmother started the weekly food fest. She would often fix fried chicken, mashed potatoes, some sort of a vegetable and very often, in the heart of the summer, she would slice giant tomato slices that had been purchased from one of the many roadside stands in the countryside surrounding the little Midwestern village I grew up in. Often, a pie served as dessert. To my grandpa, no meal was a meal without dessert!

After Mass, we would come home, anticipating what dinner might be. We didn't have to wait long. The minute we hit the driveway the aroma of our meal was apparent, hanging over the house like some sweet perfume. We rushed into the house and were greeted with the sound of the chicken sizzling in an oversize iron skillet. The house was so small, that you could see the front porch from the kitchen and there would be grandpa, sitting in his chair on porch, devouring the Sunday paper, cigar smoke swirling about his head. He loved a good cigar and to this day, on those rare occasions when I smell cigar smoke, this image of grandpa comes to mind.

Once the meal was served, we often jumped into the family car for a Sunday afternoon ride. It was the thing to do in those days. Since there was no cable TV, Internet, or DVD's, DVR's or anything else electronic, it was our form of entertainment. We often road into the country just south of town to visit some of grandpa's relatives still living on farms that their families established decades ago. The adults would talk over the "good ole days" while the kids ran through the yard playing tag or some other innocent childhood game. Late in the afternoon, we'd head back home for an evening on the porch.

Grandpa would assume his usual position on the porch, light up another cigar, and simply watch the world go by. Grandma would finish dishes from the light evening meal and join us soon after she was done. My mother deated herself in the swing gently pushing herself back and forth. I would often bring my toys to the porch and spread them out on the floor. It was a wonder sometimes that anyone could even get through the clutter. But no one seemed to mind.

Occasionally, a neighbor would drop by for some conversation, fanning themselves with an ad from that day's paper long since discarded by my grandpa. The talk would revolve around the kids, what they were doing and how they were. Tales of the grandchildren lit up the night with smiles and laughter. As the sun set, we watched with awe as the summer sky, while only a few moments ago white hot with the blinding sun, began to fill in with the colors of dusk. The glowing embers of my grandfather's cigar became brighter as the sun sunk closer and closer to the horizon. Finally, it seemed like the sun would hesitate just as it intersected with the earth as if to bid us all a pleasant evening. And then, in the twinkling of an eye, it would disappear for another day.

Our guest would linger for a little while longer and then announce that it was getting late and head off for home. As my grandpa's cigar shortened I knew my bedtime grew nearer. I played on, trying to push the clock back a little so that the day would magically be longer and I could stay up till the wee hours. It never worked and regular as clock work, once the cigar was extinguished, it was time for a bath and then bed. The newspaper would be gathered up, the chairs straightened, and the screen door locked as life headed into the house for the rest of the day.

This cycle was repeated day in and day out for years until the summer of 1962 when it was discovered that my beloved grandpa had some strange disease called cancer. I knew he was sick because he began to lose a great deal of weight in a short amount of time and the energy he once had seemed to be gone. Still, he loved his porch and would retreat to it every time he had the chance and felt up to it. It was his comfort zone long before that term became a popular cliche. He spent many hours of his last summer on that porch, taking in life in a different way than he had before.

He reminisced more often about the old days, days of his childhood on the farm and his time in the army in Paris during WWI when he served as an MP. There were times when tears came to his eyes talking about me growing up but, because I was only nine that summer, I didn't quite understand why the sadness. I just knew that everything would be alright as long as he sat on the porch, puffing away at his cigar. But those times dwindled and as the summer wore on and he became weaker and weaker because of the chemo he suffered through. But, he had his porch. That porch was like a healing balm to him mainly because when he sat on it family and friends would follow. He loved his family and friends so dearly.

We lost him in April, 1964. There was a cold snap in April that year and the day he was laid to rest in the Catholic cemetery south of town was a cold day indeed. It was hard for me to believe that my grandpa, the only grandfather I ever knew, would no longer sit on the one end of that porch with his cigar lit, pouring over the newspaper. No more would stories of the old days or debates about the day's political happenings echo on that porch quite like they once had. There would be no more funny stories of family doing the goofy things that bind them together in unique ways.

As the years went by and I grew, I still spent a good amount of time in that place. The porch swing was still hung every spring but it wasn't as well kept as when my grandfather was around. Usually, one of the men in the neighborhood kindly hung it and took it down until I was old enough to perform the task myself. My grandmother, saddened for the rest of her life by the departure of the greatest love she had ever known, used to sit on the porch in the evenings with my mother and I. But, somehow, without that lit cigar and telltale red glow with curls of smoke wafting through the room, it just wasn't the same.

As time moved on, I moved away, started a family of my own and the porch faded into the background of my life. Years later, the house was sold to the school district so that a new school could be erected on the site. The house, along with the porch, was not torn down, however. It was moved to the other side of town where, to this day, it sits, providing comfort and shelter to another family. I seriously doubt, however, that they use the porch like we did. They're probably all huddled indoors like most of the rest of us in air conditioned comfort, never knowing of the pleasures that old room once provided.

The old porch and my grandpa who loved it as much as a place can be loved, still linger on that porch--at least in my memory. There, my grandmother, my mother, my grandfather, and I all collect on summer evenings to take in the sights, sounds, and smells from that old front porch. And in those moments, life pauses to once again sweeten my life, and then moves on. They, and it, will be with me for the rest of my days.

Christmas in July

2011-07-17T18:37:00.000-07:00

Now, in the midst of the great heat wave of "11, I found myself wandering back in my memory only six months back as we awaited the arrival of Christmas. Thanksgiving had already come and gone and the weather, in typical St. Louis style in December, couldn't make up its mind whether it was early October or January.

Everyone was busy making preparations for the big day. There was shopping to be done, menus to be planned and executed, and last minute decorations to be added to what was already up for that perfect touch. Christmas carols were being sung over and over again on all radio stations. Some stations had actually been playing them since November 1st. Nearly everyone was beginning to experience that holiday lift, a feeling of joy and festiveness that isn't felt at any other time of the year in this way.

There was the feeling of "its too bad we don't have this Christmas spirit year round!" It is a spirit of good will towards all we meet. We smile more easily during this run-up to the biggest day of the year. Exhausted, there is a refreshing feel to everything we do because we knew that in only a few days we would be getting together with family and friends to celebrate the season often following long-standing traditions begun years ago. Or maybe there was the added joy of a newborn coming into the family since the last Christmas. There was, indeed, a magic feel to the air.

Then came the big day. Christmas passed as swiftly as all days do, but for some reason, Christmas Day always seems to go a little faster. The clock seems to have sped up some, leaving us to wonder just where time goes. A sumptuous meal was enjoyed, gifts opened, all while we were cozily gathered in a warm home while outside the White Christmas we all had hoped for, had come.

Before we knew it, the day was over. And we were all saying to ourselves, "where does the time go?" Once again, as darkness falls and the reality of the hum drum day to day existence we all feel we lead comes to mind, we said to ourselves, "its too bad this spirit doesn't last throughout the year!"

Now that Christmas is but a distant memory and things like pools, camping trips, vacations, air conditioning, and heat indexes preoccupy our minds, my question to you is this: What have you done to ensure that the Christmas spirit that you reveled in just six short months ago, is still alive?

I'm not talking about the presents or the meals. I'm not talking about the wish for snow or a myriad of things that all of us anticipate in the Christmas season. No, I am not talking about that. What I am talking about is the joy that underlies all of the Christmas season.

It is joy, not presents, that accounts for the feeling of well-being during the days and weeks leading to that special day. It is joy that prompts us to want to share time with friends and family, celebrating the season that initiated our salvation. It is joy that brings us together around a table, some lavish, some sparse, to break bread together in honor of the Savior whose birth has brought about eternity for us.

The Spirit of Christmas should live in us all throughout the whole year. That is obvious. But it is difficult to bring it to day-to-day life because of our cares and concerns. We live thinking about tomorrow, forgetting about today and the opportunity it brings to once again recapture the joy of God become man even a half a year away from that celebration.

Mention the fact that Christmas in only a few months off and you're liable to hear something like, "don't mention it. It'll be hear too soon." Yet, do we mean that? I think most of us are reacting to the hustle and bustle that most of us fling ourselves into willingly, only to complain about it as we exhaust ourselves for all the wrong reasons.

Now, in July, is a great time to truly examine where our hearts are, apart from all the clamor of the season. Do we really experience the joy of Christmas in our lives and live out that joy as though Christmas was only a few days off? What relationships do we need to mend so that we can truly celebrate the joy of Christmas day in and day out. What have we done for others just because we feel so blessed in our lives and it just seems like the right thing to do?

And what about God? Where do we stand in our relationship with Him? Do we celebrate His love and mercy in our lives every day? Do we truly feel the warmth of His love just as we did when we gazed upon a manger scene under the tree or through a decorated store window?

Christmas in July! It sounds like an advertising campaign, but if you think about it, it can be the perfect antidote to the dog days of summer when many of us become bored with life and feel somewhat empty as we pass through the seemingly endless days of oppressive heat and humidity. But Christmas doesn't have to be limited to July. We can have it in February, August, May, September, or any month of the year as long as we keep in mind the song of the angels on that night when Christ was born. "Peace on Earth and to men of good will!"

A Sacred Document

2011-07-02T19:08:00.000-07:00

On this weekend, America and Americans pause to celebrate the 4th of July, Independence Day. There is no end to community fireworks displays from the humble ones of small town America to the splashy, extravagant ones of places like New York City, Chicago, and Washington, D.C. There are family gatherings and cook outs. There are parades with men on stilts dressed as Uncle Sam. There are heroic air shows, demonstrating the might an power of the United States military. Mostly, the weekend is a time for all of us to get away from the daily grind of life and work, a time to relax and enjoy the company of family and friends.

But this holiday that commemorates the birth of this great nation is far more than these things. It should be a time of reflection, of self-discovery, and of determination that what was begun 235 years ago, shall remain an example of the best of society.

We must remember the great men who debated the issue of Independence, who put their ideas and opinions forward, sometimes heatedly, as they tried to bring a nation into being. We remember Adams, Jefferson, Franklin, Rutledge, Hancock, Livingston, and all the others gathered together in stifling hot Carpenter's Hall in Philadelphia to hammer out a response the the British intrusion into the colonies' lives. Ultimately, through passionate debate, squabbling, name calling and outright hostility in some cases, these men, even though their actions could and, in some cases did, bring about their deaths, created what we now know today as the Declaration of Independence.

Penned by Thomas Jefferson, the document was hotly debated and edited to reflect the views of the diverse colonies. In the end, it was approved by a unanimous vote with New York abstaining. In that moment, when it was seen that all of the colonies voted in favor of Independence, the United States of America was born.

It was not a perfect nation by any means. Slavery was a thriving business. Women had very few formal rights and most were uneducated. Men had all the political power. But it was by far the most powerful expression ever created by a political body of man's natural right to be free.

Have you ever read the entire Declaration? Most of us, if not all, can recite the opening line. "When in the course of human events..." A powerful opening, indeed, but there is even more power and majesty later in this statement of man's desire and right to freedom. As a document measured by today's standards, it would never have seen the light of day. It is not politically correct. It pulls no punches. It mentions God. And, yet, we today, in this the 21st century, owe our very existence as a nation and a people to these words written so long ago in a time of supreme crisis.

I urge you to take a few minutes out of a busy holiday schedule to read the text of this amazing and inspiring document below. It takes some reading and some of the language is a bit archaic, but ponder the words and take them in. Feel the power behind them and know that whether you are black, white, Hispanic, Asian, or of any other ethnic background, if you are a citizen of this magnificent country, these words are your heritage. They are who we are and are still very relevant 235 years after they were first proclaimed in Philadelphia on July 4, 1776. We must give thanks to a God who gave us men in an age of crisis who rose to the occasion and triumphed over their own biases and fears to move forward into the future with confidence in their principles and in God Himself.

Happy 4th of July

IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America

hen in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

Happy Father's Day

2011-06-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

Eight seasons have come and gone since this picture of Lloyd Smith was taken. The world has circled the sun twice. Mankind has continued its chaotic existence. During this time many millions have been born. Many millions have died. Earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, and other tragic natural disasters have taken a huge toll on humanity.

Man has continued the exploration of space in a tiny space station circling the earth every 90 minutes. We have been to the moon with a robotic satellite that discovered there appears to be a great deal more water under the surface than once thought.

Two wars, one in Iraq, the other in Afghanistan continue and have been joined by military action in Libya. Hundreds have died on both sides in pursuit of eliminating terrorism. Arabs throughout the Middle East, fed up with dictatorial rule, have risen up in an attempt to overthrow regimes that have brutally held them captive for years. A few of these so-called revolutions have, in some limited way, succeeded. Most have only led to further bloodshed.

Families have grown. They have said farewell to beloved members who seemingly parted this world all too soon. Grandchildren have come into the world as a gift from God to the heart of the family.

Yes, it has been an eventful two years! The world has gone on and spun around the sun as appointed by God. And we remember with fondness, the day the photo at the top was taken.

It was Father's Day, 2009. The day was typically hot and humid as summer days tend to be in St. Louis. Every member of the family gathered at Lloyd's home to celebrate this special day. It was a day filled with smiles and laughter and the warm feeling that as long as this family is together, all is well. Lloyd was the most contented, happiest man alive that day as he beamed in the light of the family that loved him so dearly. Who knew, that within a matter of months, that proud grin would be extinguished.

In April, 2009, Lloyd parted for a much better life. And while we were deeply saddened by his rather quick departure, we were heartened by the knowledge of a life well lived. All of us had special memories of this man who worked so hard through the years to raise his family in ways that made him proud. All of us took with us a special sense of who we are because of the love that he had for us and how special he made each one of us feel.

Much has happened in the time that has passed since that April morning when he was called home. His home is now up for sale. The heart of the family is no longer the structure that housed his physical existence, but, rather, that spot in all our hearts where the warmth of family love and togetherness make themselves known. The "good old days" are now long gone only to have been replaced by that special knowledge that we shared time and space with a most extraordinary man.

The tears have given way more to smiles these days as the sting of his death recedes and the understanding of what his life meant to us becomes clearer and clearer with each passing day and with each passing anniversary. And so on this still rather melancholy Father's Day there is still a sense of sadness that he is not with us physically. But the heart-warming memories, the little stories that pop into the mind without warning, make us smile more and more. One day we will all be reunited with this remarkable man. Until then, Lloyd will be with us in spirit and in our hearts always at the ready with his contented and proud smile to cheer us on our way.

Happy Father's Day, Lloyd! And thank you for the gift of your life.

The True Meaning of Marriage

2011-06-17T22:19:00.000-07:00

Recently, Archbishop Timothy Dalton, Archbishop of New York, recently wrote an incisive, if not provocative piece on the true meaning of marriage. Some of you who may read this may think that the Archbishop and the Catholic Church and all who believe what the Archbishop has to say in his piece are old-fashioned, politically incorrect, and bigoted. I am sorry for that because none of those things are true. What is true is what the Archbishop writes about in his article. It is time for truth to win out over political and social debate. I hope those of you who read the article below will find the Archbishop's comments insightful and thought provoking.

"The stampede is on. Our elected senators who have stood courageous in their refusal to capitulate on the state’s presumption to redefine marriage are reporting unrelenting pressure to cave-in.
The media, mainly sympathetic to this rush to tamper with a definition as old as human reason and ordered good, reports annoyance on the part of some senators that those in defense of traditional marriage just don’t see the light, as we persist in opposing this enlightened, progressive, cause.
But, really, shouldn’t we be more upset – and worried – about this perilous presumption of the state to re-invent the very definition of an undeniable truth – one man, one woman, united in lifelong love and fidelity, hoping for children – that has served as the very cornerstone of civilization and culture from the start?

Last time I consulted an atlas, it is clear we are living in New York, in the United States of America – not in China or North Korea. In those countries, government presumes daily to “redefine” rights, relationships, values, and natural law. There, communiqués from the government can dictate the size of families, who lives and who dies, and what the very definition of “family” and “marriage” means.
But, please, not here! Our country’s founding principles speak of rights given by God, not invented by government, and certain noble values – life, home, family, marriage, children, faith – that are protected, not re-defined, by a state presuming omnipotence.

Please, not here! We cherish true freedom, not as the license to do whatever we want, but the liberty to do what we ought; we acknowledge that not every desire, urge, want, or chic cause is automatically a “right.” And, what about other rights, like that of a child to be raised in a family with a mom and a dad?

Our beliefs should not be viewed as discrimination against homosexual people. The Church affirms the basic human rights of gay men and women, and the state has rightly changed many laws to offer these men and women hospital visitation rights, bereavement leave, death benefits, insurance benefits, and the like. This is not about denying rights. It is about upholding a truth about the human condition. Marriage is not simply a mechanism for delivering benefits: It is the union of a man and a woman in a loving, permanent, life-giving union to pro-create children. Please don’t vote to change that. If you do, you are claiming the power to change what is not into what is, simply because you say so. This is false, it is wrong, and it defies logic and common sense.

Yes, I admit, I come at this as a believer, who, along with other citizens of a diversity of creeds believe that God, not Albany, has settled the definition of marriage a long time ago. We believers worry not only about what this new intrusion will do to our common good, but also that we will be coerced to violate our deepest beliefs to accommodate the newest state decree. (If you think this paranoia, just ask believers in Canada and England what’s going on there to justify our apprehensions.)

But I also come at this as an American citizen, who reads our formative principles as limiting government, not unleashing it to tamper with life’s most basic values."

A Culture of Arrogance

2011-06-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

Anthony Weiner, New York congressman, came forward to announce that the charges leveled against him in the last several days that he tweeted lewd images of himself to several young women were, indeed, true. For days, the fiery liberal congressman has denied that he did any such thing. He went so far as to say that he was a victim in all this having been victimized by some unnamed hacker. Weiner, while admitting his guilt in this, also said that he was not resigning his post because he had a lot of work to do. In the course of the statement he did apologize to his wife for causing her so much pain but never once did he apologize to his constituency or the congress itself.

It would be very easy to be smug about all this but I find myself feeling sad and angry. It is sad that one of our leaders such as Weiner, has become so arrogant that he feels he can get away with nearly everything. His arrogance led him to bad judgment and reprehensible behavior. I am angered that men who find themselves in positions of power such as a United States congressman can think of himself as one who can do what he wants no matter what that may be. Here Weiner, a supposed champion of women's rights, abused women with unsolicited, unwanted obscene photos of himself to women half his age. And he refuses to resign?

Of course, in all the arguments in the aftermath of his admission, discussion of what he did was wrong but it wasn't illegal seems to have flourished. In other words, as long as what someone has done is not against the law, even though it is wrong in every way imaginable, that behavior is OK and there should be no consequences for those actions.

The sad thing, of course, is that Weiner is far from being alone in his actions and responses. His actions are a symptom of politicians in general.

We live in an age of arrogance. This was demonstrated over the weekend by Sarah Palin, someone who is the exact opposite in political philosophy from Anthony Weiner. Ms. Palin said that Paul Revere road his famous gallop through the countryside to not only alert the colonists to the impending British invasion, but to warn the British not to do it. What? Really, Sarah? History does not bare this out. To compound the problem further, when given the opportunity to straighten her statement out, rather than admitting she was wrong, she stood her ground, insisting that Revere's famous ride was, indeed, meant to warn the British of the American resolve. Once again, a politician has exhibited an arrogance that defies common sense.

This arrogance must stop. The time for politicians treating their constituencies as though they didn't have any greater than a second grade education must come to an end. It is sad that we have reached this point. Do you really trust a man to make crucial decisions about defense questions or health care questions who would be so stupid to send these kinds of pictures to young women over the Internet? Do you really want to give the keys to the Oval Office to a woman who refuses to admit she was wrong about a rather insignificant historical fact?

We the people...need to begin to take seriously our role in American political life. We need to become more astute in tracking what our elected representatives are doing. It is time for the ordinary citizen to take his or her role as the most important part of political life in America seriously. We get what we deserve and in Anthony Weiner and Sarah Palin we certainly do not have the best!

James Arness

2011-06-04T12:56:00.000-07:00

On Friday, June 3, we who are members of the Baby Boom generation, lost a TV icon that many of us grew up with. James Arness, the law in Dodge City, Kansas, known as Marshall Matt Dillon, died at age 88. It is sad to see a passing of this sort not because I knew the man, but because of what he represented.

Gunsmoke, the series in which Marshall Dillon provided law and order, was on the air for 20 years. It ran from 1955 through 1975. This was just one western among many when it first aired. Countless other westerns came and went during the course of its run, but none seemed to have the staying power or impact.

I was just a little boy when the series first debuted. My grandfather was a huge fan and would never think of missing an episode. Marshall Dillon, Doc, Miss Kitty, Chester, and then later, Festus, were all regular guests in our home for one hour a week. The fondness I had and still have for the show lay in the fact that it brings back some of the fondest memories I have. I'll never forget my grandfather settling into his favorite chair once a week to tune in to see just what Matt had to confront that week. He'd light up his favorite cigar, cross his legs, prop his head up with his right hand and for the next hour, be transported back to the old days. I can still smell the aroma of the cigar!

These were special moments that my grandpa and I shared. He wasn't a big television watcher to begin with but he wouldn't ever think of missing Gunsmoke unless he absolutely had to. I would often watch from the comfort of his lap.

Grandpa seemed to be taken with westerns and this was the best as far as he was concerned. As a matter of fact, he used to get a tablet of paper as I sat in his lap and draw me pictures of horses and corrals. He was anything but an artist, yet, he had a knack for drawing these animals. They weren't sophisticated works of art and certainly would have no value as the art world determines value. But to me, they were the most precious pictures that I ever had. My only regret is that I do not have any of these drawings now. However, I can still picture them in my mind.

Now James Arness never knew my grandfather and he never knew the impact that he had on a grandfather and grandson who enjoyed his work in a very special way. Grandpa and I watched this special western and gifted cast up until the time of grandpa's death in 1964. I am sure that there are millions of others who can remember similar memories because of this remarkable show. Today, because of our technology, I am still able to enjoy those same episodes that grandpa and I enjoyed together so long ago.

James Arness and his work in Gunsmoke will go on for many years to come. The show is a classic. But the show's greatest impact may not be the quality of the work it represents, but of the kind of memories it brings back. We all have a purpose in life and James Arness and the rest of the cast were meant to entertain using their talents. And through those talents, he has helped to preserve some of the warmest and fondest memories of my life and it is for this reason that James Arness will be sorely missed.

The Humble Cicada

2011-06-03T21:42:00.000-07:00

During this last week, those of us who live in the St. Louis area, have been suddenly bombarded by the screeching of an insect that makes an appearance once every thirteen years. It is the humble, yet ugly, cicada. This somewhat ominous looking insect is harmless. It does not bite. It does not strip trees and mature bushes of its foliage. It simply emerges from the earth where it has lived for the last thirteen years, looks for a mate by creating a near deafening noise in the daytime hours, finds a mate and does what bugs do, then the male dies, the female lays her eggs and dies. This life-cycle is short-lived.

These flying bugs are now with us in the billions. Neighborhoods ring with the mating calls of these creatures. Some go so far as to swoop down at you as you emerge from your home or car. You can see them flying as you go down the highway, many of whom slam into your car, meeting death before they can reproduce. If you look closely at any tree, you will find thousands of the little noise makers dangling from branches and leaves or clinging to the bark. They all seem to sing in chorus at times and the noise can easily drown out the sound of any average sized lawn mower. They are annoying, somewhat creepy, but completely harmless to man and most other creatures.

The other day as I listened to their chorus, something struck me. This lowly little bug, this every thirteen year visitor, is yet another reminder of the greatness of God. He has created an insect that emerges every thirteen years to mate and fill our ears with the natural screech of nature alive and vibrant. These annoying little creatures are doing just what they were meant to do. What purpose they serve is beyond me, but I am quite certain that they do serve something. That is irrelevant to what I am talking about.

Like everything else in nature, beautiful or ugly, dangerous or harmless, big or little, these creatures are unique reminder of the mystery of God Himself. They sing loudly and their song can be seen as a song of praise to their Creator because they are fulfilling the nature He gave them completely. They give us a lesson in humility because these lowly creatures do remind us of our place in the universe. God has elevated all His creatures simply through their existence. Each has a place and each gives glory to Him when they fulfill His will for them.

The next time you hear these little noise makers cry out in the daytime, think of it as praise from nature for the God who created all. Maybe we should join in the chorus by seeking out the will of the Father and finding ways to fulfill that will!

Memorial Day 2011

2011-05-29T22:03:00.000-07:00

Today the nation pauses to honor those who, throughout our history, have answered the call to military service to protect and defend our freedoms from the threats of those who would gladly take them from us.

This annual observation, first begun in 1866, has seen times in which it was a solemn day of remembrance, a day of ceremonies, parades, and services, recalling the fallen heroes of our society who gave their last full measure of devotion so that the rest of us might enjoy the fruits of liberty. But it has also seen times in which barely anyone paid heed to what the day was about choosing instead, to turn it into a celebration of summer while the once cherished dead lay quietly, unnoticed. The politics of the time often determined the degree to which Americans honored their fallen warriors.

In spite of this history, it is imperative in this day and age, a time in which the United States of America is engaged in two wars while supporting military actions carried out by NATO in Libya, to remember the dead of our wars.

We must remember and honor the sacrifices made by countless families as loved ones marched off to battle only to lose them in the brutality of war. We remember, too, those who feel on the field but did not succumb to their wounds, returning home broken physically and often mentally, a result of their service to us. We remember the mother whose heart was pierced as the ominous black vehicle swung around the corner and pulled to a stop in front of her house with two men delivering a message of horror no parent ever wants to hear. We remember the children who grow up never to know the father or mother who gave them life. We remember the neighborhood kid who never seemed extraordinary in anything he ever did, that is until he entered the service and became a hero through his brave actions under fire.

We must be a grateful nation for all of those who have been willing to sacrifice everything, if necessary, to preserve and protect the greatest republic the world has ever known. We must thank them by coming together as a nation, setting aside all political rancor while tackling the monumental issues confronting our society. We must stand up for our beliefs, but to honor those brave men and women who have given their all in service to us, we must be willing to do what is necessary for the common good of the people so that liberty and justice will continue to be the foundation of this country.

We let freedom ring every time we come together as a community to lend a helping hand to those who, like the citizens of Joplin, MO, have had their lives devastated by a natural disaster. We proclaim liberty throughout the land every time we write a leader with our ideas and criticisms of what they are doing. We promote democracy every time we invite all who are Americans into a vigorous, yet respectful, dialogue about the issues that confront this nation. And we honor our fallen troops every time we remember these shinning examples of what it means to be an American in our thoughts and prayers.

We have been given a great gift in the form of the United States of America. God has showered His bounty upon us but that bounty has come with a high price tag. We do not take this lightly, nor should we forget those who have taken up the challenge of defending freedom with their very lives.

And so, on this one hundred forty-fifth anniversary of the observation of Memorial Day, we pause to say thank you and may God bless you all who have given their lives as payment for our freedom!

The Marriage Blessing

2011-04-17T14:14:00.000-07:00

Recently, I ran across what you are about to read below. Years ago, at the very end of the wedding ceremony in the Catholic Church, the priest extended his hands over the newly married couple and pronounced this blessing. I found it to be a moving and profound prayer and a marvelous summation of what the married couple had to look forward to. Please read the blessing slowly and think about its various components, reflecting either on your marriage or someone else's marriage that you are familiar with. This is really quite beautiful and really quite simple.

"May almighty God bless you by the Word of his mouth and unite your hearts in an enduring bond of pure love.

May you be blessed in your children, and may the love you lavish on them be returned a hundredfold.

May the peace of Christ dwell always in your hearts and in your home; may you have true friends to stand by you, both in joy and in sorrow. May you be ready with help and consolation for all those who come to you in need; and may the blessings promised to the compassionate descend in abundance on your home.

May you be blessed in your work and enjoy its fruits. May care never cause you distress, nor the desire for earthly possessions lead you astray; buy may your hearts' concern be always for the treasures laid up for you in the life of heaven.

May the Lord grant you fullness of years, so that you may reap the harvest of a good life, and, after you have served him with loyalty in his kingdom on earth, may he take you up into his eternal dominions in heaven."

I believe that this is not only a blessing for all newlyweds, but a blessing for all who are contemplating marriage or who may have been married for many, many years. A husband and wife are responsible for each other both in time and eternity; this is what this blessing truly means. Perhaps if the elements of this blessing were better known and better adhered to, there would be less divorce and the family would begin to resume its rightful place as the backbone of society!

A Year

2011-04-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

One year ago today, April 9, 2010, the Smith family lost its patriarch Lloyd. It is amazing how fast that year has come and gone and it is just as amazing at how clear the memories are of that day 365 days ago.

During this year, much has transpired as life proceeded to take its course. That is the way of the universe. No matter what happens, life will move on and we, too, with it. We have learned more about one another. We have come to a far greater appreciation of what Lloyd meant to each one of us regardless of how long we may have known him. We have had good days filled with fond memories and we have had the tough days, the first holidays, the first birthday, without him. There isn't a day that goes by that he isn't thought of at least once. He is as alive to us in our hearts as he was physically and he is never very far away from us.

I believe God, from time to time, allows our loved ones to peer down upon us. I also believe that from time to time, our Heavenly Father allows our loved one to reach from the heights of heaven to the earth in order to send messages to us.

To his sons and daughters for instance, he may have imparted comfort, support, joy, or even hope at one time or another during the course of this year. Perhaps on those days filled with a melancholy of undetermined origin, Lloyd's spirit touched ours with a warmth that we could not identify but made us feel better for it. Perhaps he joined in with us in laughing at a story of something silly that happened years ago in our childhood. And maybe even, just maybe, he whispered to us as we slept and when we awoke we felt refreshed for having had a good dream about him.

And maybe the Father of us all graciously allowed Lloyd, in his role as grandpa, to slip to earth to touch our hearts as only a grandfather can do. Maybe one day, completely out of the blue, we thought of an incident about grandpa that made us smile. Maybe, just maybe, that was grandpa being allowed by a merciful God to touch our tender hearts when we needed it the most.

And for the great-grandchildren, maybe Lloyd was allowed to touch our lives as well. Maybe as we ran and laughed and played in a big back yard with a swing set and a sandbox our glee didn't come so much from what we were doing as it was from the fact that our great-grandpa was once again enjoying us and loving us just as he used to when he was with us.

Lloyd was a great man who touched the lives of all those he encountered with something special. He had his quirks just as we all do. But here was a genuinely good man. A man who would do anything for his family and whose life revolved around a bustling and entertaining family. There could have been very few dull moments during his lifetime with a family like this.

And so as we pause and observe this first sad anniversary, let us also gather together in our hearts and bask in the joy and happiness that Lloyd brought to each one of us. And let us never forget his special kind of love that he so freely gave to each one of us. You are sorely missed, Lloyd, but you live deep within our hearts and never shall you pass from our consciousness!

An Anniversary

2011-03-15T07:38:00.000-07:00

Today, we mark the 81st anniversary of the birth of a man we all loved very much, Lloyd Smith. Lloyd was the beloved patriarch of the Smith family and this day was always a day of happiness and celebration. It has been nearly a year since his passing and there hasn't been a day that he has not been in everyone's mind at least once a day.

This birthday is different from all the birthdays that any of us have ever observed for it is the first one without him with us. It is a melancholy day in many ways. Memories of Lloyd come flooding back and we all have our favorites. There are memories of the last Father's Day we spent with him, a day reflected in the wonderful smile of the photo above. There are memories of the last Thanksgiving we had with him and the sense of contentment he seemed to have that day. And, of course, we cannot forget those last few days we had with him, days filled with anxiety and fear that he would soon be leaving us while clinging to the hope that that what we were experiencing was just a bad dream. Sadly, it was not.

But this is also a day to remember the good times. They are the times that the joy of life came to us through a loving father who took his greatest joy in his family. Memories of long ago camping trips. Of swimming for endless hours on steaming hot summer days in the Meramec River. Christmases spent digging presents out from under the tree while he sat back and beamed with pride as his children tore into the treasures. His oft-told jokes that all heard repeatedly but laughed at every time he might tell one.

Each has his own memory of Lloyd. And, I suspect, each will spend a moment or two today in a quiet memory and in that moment may shed a tear or two because he is missed so very much. But I am just as sure that mixed in with that tear will be a broad smile prompted by the thought of a fatherly hug or a kind word of encouragement or even the memory of another meal at Steak 'n Shake.

Lloyd Smith touched all our lives and we miss him dearly. But he is as alive today as he was during his physical lifetime because we carry him daily within our hearts and minds. His spirit is still present as the family gathers for the holidays or other occasions throughout the year. He lives because of what he gave to all of us, his very unique way of telling us how much he loved each one of us.

And so today we pause and say to you Lloyd, "Happy Birthday! You gave all of yourself to us and we are better for it. You now rest in heaven waiting for the day that all will once again be gathered in joy. We miss you and we love you and you are surely not forgotten!"

Baby Joseph

2011-03-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

A little boy, named by the press "Baby Joseph," has been given a chance at life. A Canadian, Baby Joseph has been in the public realm over the last several days. In short, this thirteen month old baby was born with a progressive neurological disease that is fatal according to the Canadian doctors attending him. He was put on a respirator to help him breathe but once the diagnosis was made, the doctors wanted to remove the child from the respirator because the physicians felt there was no hope in saving him. However, his parents objected to this move and went to court to obtain an order directing the hospital and the medical staff to keep Joseph on the breathing aid and to get another opinion regarding his prognosis. The court denied the parents and the hospital staff was set to remove the respirator.

After this, a call went out to US hospitals to take the baby and perform a tracheotomy on the child and evaluate his condition. Several hospitals throughout the country denied their request. Finally, SSM Cardinal Glennon Children's Medical Center of St. Louis agreed to accept the child. Late Sunday night, the parents, Baby Joseph, and Father Frank Pavone, director of the organization known as Priests For Life, flew to the St. Louis facility. Today, the child is being evaluated by the medical staff to determine the best course of treatment for the little boy who clings to life.

Life is sacred. It has no price tag, yet the hospital and Canadian health care system seems to have put a price tag on the head of this little boy. Undoubtedly, the child's condition is fatal. His prognosis is not good and will likely remain as such. But the fact of the matter is that we have a responsibility to continue to provide treatment to those among us who are in the final stages of life. This is not an economic decision, nor can it ever be allowed to become one. We have no right to withdraw treatment such as a breathing tube to sustain life because life is sacred. We are made in the image of God who created our very soul and because He is the Creator, our lives are holy. That does not mean that everyone lives a holy life. To the contrary, most of us do not! But we all deserve every effort to keep us alive and comfortable should we find ourselves in the state that Baby Joseph is.

We cannot and must not allow any kind of health care system that is devised here in the United States to ignore the fact that each life has a right to the best of care till we die. We cannot and must not allow the medical community or insurance companies to dictate the terms of life because life will then, indeed, be marked with a price tag. How much is a child in the condition of Baby Joseph worth? He produces nothing. He has yet to make any mark on society outside his family. He is just there and every day that passes, his medical costs continue to rise unchecked. Who will be paying for this part of his life? All of these questions have no answer, of course. And, yes, there is a crisis in the American health care system when it comes to what seems to be overinflated charges that needs to be addressed. We must find answers to these questions and more but not at the expense of human life no matter what stage of life it happens to be in.

Baby Joseph is in an institution which clearly values life. SSM Cardinal Glennon Children's Medial Center should be thanked and congratulated for standing by its Catholic principles and philosophy. Life is indeed sacred and Baby Joseph is just one reminder of this fact! Let us pray for this child of God and his family that all will be according to God's will and that whatever that will may be, peace will, in the end, reign.

Grandparenthood!

2011-02-26T18:04:00.000-08:00

This is my youngest granddaughter. Her name is Noelliah. She is now just past five months old. As a grandfather I have been blessed with an abundance of granddaughters. If you think a daughter can wrap her father around her little finger, well, then, just try to hold your own with a granddaughter.

Little Noe (as she is called) came into this world on a fateful anniversary, September 11, 2010. That makes it easy to remember! She, like her sisters, is full of life. She is constantly in motion, always looking around, engaged in what is going on in the room or nearby. To look into her eyes is to look into the breath of life itself. Here is energy, optimism, hope, and a curiosity about the world unleashed. Here is a little child touching the hearts of all she comes into contact with simply because she is. Her sisters exhibit the same magic and when they are all together, there is an energy for life that can be felt.

It is not the energy of simple motion, but the innocent energy of life that we all once possessed. At one time in our lives we were all this innocent, waiting to learn everything there was to learn about the world around us. We stared in amazement at the faces of those seemingly large giants who happened to stick their faces in our face and make ridiculous sounds and facial expressions. We weren't sure whether to cry or laugh or just frown in wonder if we would look like that some day. We were all at the beginning of life, ready to take on come what may.

When you are a grandfather or grandmother, you have the privilege of years lived. You have the perspective that life experiences have given and you may be somewhat beaten down by what life has doled out up to this point or by what you have done to life! Life may seem very wearisome on certain days and you wonder how much farther you can go. And then you look into the eyes of a little granddaughter filled with the energy and zest for life you once possessed and it all comes back: this is what life is all about! Oh sure, there is the humdrum of everyday life. Bills to be paid, problems to be solved. The car is broken down again or a horrible day at work can leave us looking for the nearest exit.

I think one reason that God gives us grand kids is to help us keep the proper perspective in life. He reminds us that life isn't, after all, a burden that we seem to turn it into through our own efforts. That life is about living, enjoying, and giving everything you have every day. It isn't about how bad things are. It is about the possibilities of how good things can be. That is what grandchildren remind us of. The potential of the future.

Noe knows nothing of her profound effect upon her loving grandparents. She does not know the joy of seeing a recent photo posted on Facebook. She isn't aware that we're willing to travel whatever distance necessary just to spend a short amount of time with she and her sisters and parents. Yet, in all her beauty and innocence and, yes, zest for life, she does this and so much more.

Aliyah

Thank you to all my grandchildren for being such great witnesses of the love that God has for all of us. If we didn't have grandchildren, the world would certainly be vastly empty and our knowledge of God so much more limited!

Kiki

The Most Dangerous Place for an African-American

2011-02-25T18:05:00.000-08:00

Recently, in the crowded streets of New York City, a billboard, sponsored by an organization called "Life Always," was erected to coincide with the celebration of Black History Month. The billboard, featuring a picture of a little African-American girl, stated simply, "The most dangerous place for an African-American is in the womb."

On the surface, this would seem to be a very shocking statement, almost, some would say, outrageous, that is until the statistics are examined.

The City of New York's Department of Mental Hygiene recently released its vital statistics from one year ago. The numbers are alarming and prove that the Big Apple is the abortion capital of the United States. The Department's report revealed that a chilling 41% of all pregnancies in New York City were aborted. Forty-one percent! That is a tragic and phenomenal number. Reading further in the report, an even more startling statistic is revealed. The report revealed that a stunning 59.8% of all African-American pregnancies were aborted!

The group who placed the billboard said it did so to point out the fact that Planned Parenthood, the largest abortion provider in the United States, targets poor, African-American neighborhoods by putting more clinics in those neighborhoods than anywhere else. Planned Parenthood in a statement said the billboard was "a condescending effort to stigmatize and shame African-American women."

The Reverend Al Sharpton rose up in furry and threatened to protest the billboard. He demanded that it be removed from the side of the building upon which it appeared. So much for freedom of expression that the Reverend claims to be such a champion of! Remember Don Imus?

Outcries came from all liberal circles, demanding that the billboard and its stark and alarming message be removed.

Buckling under pressure, the billboard was removed and now Al Sharpton and the howling liberal pack of wolves are satisfied, having successfully squelched the awful truth of the genocide that is taking place in what some call the Capital of the World.

Dr. Alveda King, niece of the late Dr. Martin Luther King, said in a statement released today, "Its an outrageous act of censorship that this billboard was taken down. This billboard should be posted in every city in America."

Planned Parenthood, Al Sharpton, and all the liberal organizations should be outraged, but not because, as they claim, the billboard is racist, but because of what is going on the African-American community. These numbers are staggering. Two out of every three African-American babies in the city of New York were deliberately killed through the process of abortion in the time span of a year. If this kind of butchery were taking place on the streets of Tripoli, Libya, the world would be in an uproar. And its not just the African-American community! Remember, 41% of all pregnancies in New York City ended in abortion.

Is it not possible for the supporters to see abortion for what it is? Are they blind to the truth that life begins at the moment of conception and that the result of this conception is a human being just like you and I? Are they incapable of thinking about that life in the womb as being human, preferring, rather, to think of it as some inconsequential cells to be discarded like the day's garbage? Can they look at their children in the eye and see before them only a group of inconsequential cells? When they found out that they were going to have a child, did they think of that tiny life as anything but a living baby? Or, rather, did they, in all honesty, see that offspring as just an inconsequential bundle of cells?

We have cheapened life, at all stages, through the scourge of abortion. We, as a society, think of ourselves as having liberated women, but have we? Look how women are viewed today. Commercials on television testify to the fact that we see women as something to possess, something to use, and then, when we are done or they are too old and "unattractive," to be discarded. The most popular comedy on network TV (CBS' "Two and a Half Men") is a show dedicated to see how many women the main character can get into bed!

We must take an honest look at what we are doing to ourselves as a society. No terrorist could ever dream up a plot to kill as many people as abortion claims year after year. We devote billions of dollars every year to defend ourselves from another terrorist attack similar to 9/11. But the number of abortions on a daily basis pales in comparison to the tragic numbers of that horrible day in September, 2001.

Millions of children have been sacrificed in the name of providing women "health care services." Who would these children have become? Why weren't they given the chance that all of us were given--life? And who says that you can't tell someone what they can or can not do with their bodies? We do it all the time! We make laws regarding self-inflicted pain. There are laws that make suicide a crime. We have laws that prohibit the use of drugs even though we only ingest those substances ourselves.

It is time for America wake up to the genocide that is taking place across this land. It is time for us to realize that if we treat the most innocent citizens with the callousness of travesties such as abortion, it isn't long before we begin having open and honest discussions about things like euthanasia of the elderly.

Polls testify to the truth that America is changing its mind where abortion is concerned. A majority of Americans see abortion as wrong and that it should not be permitted. But the battle is far from over. The African-American community is suffering more than any other, but we all suffer from the complete of human life. There is a price tag on all our heads and we need to fight back. We need to pray, become active in the community in educating the public what abortion is and what it is doing to the fabric of society.

Abortion is the great evil of our society and, if we are not very careful, it will be the complete undoing of who we are as a people!

Immediately, when the billboard was put up, shouts of protests arose.

Profound

2011-01-30T21:43:00.000-08:00

There is a certain luxury to being a grandparent that one never has when the parenting duties are your main preoccupation in life. That luxury is the ability to look upon your offspring, now adult, and reminisce in your own mind about their lives through the filter of their current life. I had such an opportunity today and it left me thinking that this day was, indeed, profound in nature.

This morning, at Grace Presbyterian Church in Peoria, Illinois, my son Josh and my daughter-in-law Melissa presented the newest member of our family to be dedicated to God. The ceremony, a rather simple affair, gives the parents the responsibility of seeing to it that the child is reared in the Word of God and that Word becomes the basis for their lives.

For the ceremony itself, the entire family was called to the altar. As the minister proceeded with the ceremony, I must admit that I did not take in many of the words he was pronouncing over the family. Rather, my mind shot back through time to days in an era that was much simpler than the times in which we live. There, I saw Josh as the little boy growing up with a sense of curiosity and wonder of the world that were so unique to him. Then my glance led to Aliyah. She is so like her father and I could not help but notice how similar the two are today. Younger sisters Keirah and Noelliah, rested in the arms of each parent as the dedication unfolded.

As the family stood on that stage, my heart swelled with pride not in anything that I had done but in the kind of man my son has become. He is first and foremost a man who places God at the center of his life. He has made a commitment to guide his family using God as his compass. He is a husband who is fully dedicated to his wife, loving and embracing her for all that she is and all that she brings to his life (which is considerable). He is a father who embraces his children every day with a deep and abiding love founded upon his love for God. His girls are his life and you can be sure that they will always be under his watchful eye. And then he is the son who has given his father a love that is unearned but surely welcomed. This love has given and energy to my life that is beyond words.

All five of them-Josh, Melissa, Aliyah, Keirah, and Noelliah-bring pride to this baby-boom father like nothing else in his life. As I looked upon that family I realized just how much God loves me by favoring me with this vision of family. Encapsulated in that moment was the message of just how much He loves us all and how much He has sacrificed us all so that we may share these profound moments in life.

I am profoundly grateful to Josh and Melissa for their bringing into the world three little lights that will grow into shinning beacons of God's love for man. And I am profoundly moved that God would allow me to glimpse this remarkable manifestation of His love. Profound, in reality, doesn't even begin to describe it!

On Being Civil

2011-01-24T20:36:00.000-08:00

Since the tragic shooting in Tucson which left 6 dead and several more injured including the intended target, Cong. Gabrielle Giffords, nearly every politician in the land has proclaimed that we all must be more civil towards each other. It must be reflected in our speech as well as our actions. As an example, several congressmen and senators from both sides of the aisle with be sitting with each other in an attempt at showing their civility and willingness to cooperate with each other. A noble gesture, perhaps, but a gesture that has very little, if any, meaning. But that is fodder for another time.

It is all very well to speak of being more civil, more tolerant of each other but until we become more civil towards the weakest and most defenseless of our society, everything else seems rather inconsequential.

In the shadow of the 38th anniversary of the Supreme Court's ruling Roe v Wade which formally legalized abortion, I would like to point out that we have hardly been civil to the over 53,000,000 babies that have been aborted before having the chance to be born. This slaughter of the most innocent among us sure must rank amongst the most inhospitable act any one society has shown toward a segment of its population in the history of mankind.

Only recently, with the arrest of the abortion doctor and his staff in Philadelphia, has there been any real outcry about this continuing abomination and we certainly have not heard one story about this nightmare in the mainstream media (ABC, NBC, CBS). The violence of abortion stuns those who first begin to understand how abortions are performed. The mere thought of someone killing an unborn child is simply too much for most to fathom. But the fact of the matter is is that abortion is pure and simple an act of butchery.

So Mr. and Ms. politician, until we can find a way to be more civil to those who have no voice and no choice, you can sit together all you want. You can tiptoe through the tulips night and day. You can hum "Everything Is Beautiful" at all hours. However, no one in the world would ever believe you meant it as long as the abortion mills continue to produce the horrors that we witnessed in Philadelphia.

I am sure your actions will be praised by the President of the United States during his State of the Union Address this Tuesday night as an example of civility and cooperation. Meantime, across town in some abortion clinic or "Women's Health Clinic" a child will be killed before having the chance of being born. How civil are we really if this continues unchecked?

A Priest of the Culture of Death

2011-01-20T12:42:00.000-08:00

Take a look at the photo above and you will be looking into the face of unbelievable evil. It is the likeness of the Philadelphia physician who now stands accused of killing seven live babies and one mother in his chamber of horrors that is called an abortion clinic. Dr. Kermit Gosnell along his with wife and several staff members have been arrested and indicted on eight counts of murder including the death of a mother during a botched abortion.

Inside the clinic, investigators found what they described as a "house of horrors." Among other things, they found bags and bottles filled with aborted babies. Seth Williams, the District Attorney for the region, said that several jars containing "severed feet that he (Dr. Gosnell) kept for no medical purpose." There is speculation that the doctor has, over the years, killed hundreds of babies born live with a pair of scissors.

The babies included in the indictment were killed after the doctor and his staff had induced labor in the patient and then given birth to a perfectly live and viable newborn. The babies included in the grand jury's findings were six, seven, and eight months old. Once they were born, perfectly capable of living outside the womb at this point. the doctor took a pair of scissors, jabbed them into the back of their necks, and the sliced through the spinal chord, killing the infants instantly.

This barbaric crime is more revolting and heinous than most people have heard of up to this point. These babies could very well have lived and been adopted out had they not had the misfortune of being born into this "house of horrors." Instead of being given to the care of parents who would love them and nurture them to adulthood, they were cruelly and coldly dispatched by a doctor and willing staff with a simple, every day instrument, namely a scissors.

What amazes me (and I don't know why) is that nowhere in the mainstream media has this story been given any air time. This monstrous crime deserves the attention of the American people. It deserves to be exposed because it is an icon of the Culture of Death. This is what abortion is and there is no disguising it with words or phrases that have some sort of soothing sound. It is a barbaric act and outrage needs to be expressed. Our lawmakers need to be bombarded with demands that something needs to be done regarding abortion in this country. Human treasure has been destroyed in this instance but the sad thing is that human treasure is freely and openly destroyed in abortion mills throughout this country every day.

What does it say about a society when something like this abhorrent crime committed in Philadelphia, the city that gave birth to the Declaration of Independence in which all men were declared to have been created equal by their creator, gets no attention from the major media outlets in this country? Have we grown so callous to such obscene violence that it just doesn't effect us any longer? Does it reflect on our lessening dependency on God and greater dependency on ourselves?

This kind of story deserves the kind of attention that American Idol generates. More than that, really! This slaughter of innocent human beings has to be stopped in some way. A society can be judged by the way it treats its least significant members. If that is the case, then we are in big trouble. The Culture of Death, a culture that promotes the ego and the self must be reversed so as to head off this kind of unthinkable crime. We need to once again adopt the Culture of Life, an atmosphere that celebrates life in all of its forms. Only then shall we be able to rescue what we have lost, although those innocent citizens who have been killed before even having the chance to be born are beyond mortal rescue. May they all rest in the peace of Christ.

Tragic Absurdity

2011-01-11T20:25:00.000-08:00

The absurdity that we have witnessed since the brutal and senseless violence in Arizona last Saturday provides a sad commentary to where we are as a society. Nearly forgotten in the verbal sparring has been those who died and were wounded by the obviously deranged gunman.

Those on the left have accused the right of causing the shootings through their continual criticism of the liberal point of view in the American body politic. Those on the right have risen up against these accusations, pointing out the hypocrisy of the left in that the left has a long history of vitriolic language itself.

The liberal argument holds no water whatsoever. The actions of the would-be assassin had nothing to do with the political tenor in this country. Here was an obviously mentally disturbed individual whose mental illness went unchecked for years only to bubble up in violence last weekend. The chances that he was inspired somehow to go on a killing spree through right wing media types like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh are nothing. He acted in such a violent way because of the mental illness that undoubtedly has plagued him for years.

We need to slow down and take a deep breath and understand what we are doing to ourselves. We have already cheapened life through the legalization of abortion. Stem cells extracted from human embryos after those embryos have been destroyed has placed one group of human beings (those born) over those who have yet to be born. We need to see that we have chosen a route where human life is concerned that degrades and devalues human life.

What caused last Saturday's savage attack on those gathered in the parking lot of a Safeway supermarket? I am not qualified to answer that but I can say that our callous disregard for the marginalized in society, those who are homeless, mentally ill, and those who have been lost, contributed far more to the violence than did the tone of the political debate in this country.

We have turned our backs on God for any number of reasons. When we do this as a society, we lose our compass. We drift. There is no truth. There is no anchor. Right and wrong become relative and each person lives out their own version of right and wrong whether or not it agrees with other versions. We are not connected to each other as we once were. Oh, we do have the Internet with facebook and twitter and the like. But is this really being connected. No! We cannot be connected merely through a computer keyboard! To be connected we must have personal relationships based upon reality.

The gunman in Arizona was clearly marginalized. He was detached from the rest of society as a result of his mental illness. His writings reveal a mind that is incapable of putting together coherent thoughts. He became anti-social and apparently fixated with the congresswoman he tried to kill. In his savage outrage, he revealed his complete disregard by indiscriminately shooting so many others, killing six including a nine year old little girl.

It is time for the right and the left to just shut up about which side caused this horrible tragedy. Rather than putting all this energy into these arguments, they need to focus their talents and abilities in solving the problems that led to an ugly scene such as was played out in Tucson. If we fail to address these problems in a mature and honest way, another Tucson waits in the wings. How many more people will have to die in senseless violence before our leaders disengage the childish finger pointing that we have seen this week. I for one am disgusted with both sides and pray that the adults among our leaders (if there are any!) come to the surface and lead us to a healing that we are so desperately in need of.

Look into the eyes of little Christina Greene at the top of this piece and see the future ended by this horrible act of violence. When this picture was taken this little girl was filled with life, with hope, with the sheer joy of being alive. Now she is dead, living forever in the arms of the Creator. As you look into her eyes, ask yourself: is the dialogue that we are witnessing in the public arena worthy of this young and innocent victim? We must honor her memory and those of the other five who died that day with dialogue that honors them and brings back this country and society from the brink of self-destruction.

2011

2010-12-31T22:32:00.000-08:00

Another month has come and gone and as I turn the page of the calendar a brand new month and year stare me in the face. Funny, isn't it, how ritualistic we all become over time. Every year at about this time nearly everyone I know says something to the effect, "Where did the time go?" Even funnier, when you think about it, the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months of 2010 actually passed no more slowly nor quickly than did the previous twelve months. Yet, it does seem as though time continually picks up speed with each passing year. Why?

All of us get caught up in the superficiality of life. Our days are passed with endlessly meaningless tasks that we assign meaning to because we all want our lives to actually mean something. So, as a result, we funnel our attention to trivialities such as the things we possess, not realizing that many of them actually possess us. We take for granted the precious minutes that are allotted us and become impatient when the clock doesn't move quickly enough for us. As we watch the time, urging it to move more quickly, we squander the here and now of the passing moment even though in reality that is all we have.

We go about doing things rather than being ourselves. In our society, if we aren't busy, we aren't being productive and, therefore, are not contributing anything important to the world. But just doing something to be doing it leaves us empty, without direction. To be ourselves means that we have to know ourselves and there is precious little time in our lives for that what with all the doing that's going on! We become bystanders to the parade of life rather than intimate participants and as the parade passes us by, so does life.

This new year is a perfect time to discover what it means to be! What exactly does it mean to be a human being. Are all we are is what we do? Or are we something far more complex than our actions? This may sound like the ramblings of a middle aged man seeking direction in his life, but I can assure you that in talking with many friends and acquaintances about this subject, I am not alone.

All of us wants to get the most out of each moment that we live and breathe. We have it within our own power to do just that but it will take courage because it is necessary for us to swim out of the mainstream of life and take in what society sees and non-productive elements of life. Take time with your spouse. Look at them through the eyes that you first looked at them with the first time you saw them. Yes, they have grown older and may not have that youthful charm burning from within, but perhaps, just perhaps, if you try to capture them for what they have meant to you all these years, you will have a better understanding of who they have become and, consequently who the both of you are.

Look at your children. They are the gems of life, yet how often do you lose patience with them as they struggle to grow up in a society that more and more often would deny them the precious years of childhood so they can grow up and earn a decent living? Take them in as they are and see yourself in them. They will never pass this way again and neither will you. Drink in the moment and realize that they are reflections of you and are the hope of our future. Nurture them because they are the greatest gift God could ever bestow upon a couple.

To those whom you call friend, give thanks. Friends provide that necessary balance in life that keeps one from feeling alone. The old saying about us not being able to choose our family but we do have the ability to choose our friends says so much about the value of a trusted friend. They do not have to accompany us on our life's journey. They have volunteered to be our companions and often prove to be our life rafts! Friends, too, are very special gifts from God and one who has a friend has riches beyond anything the world can provide.

So as 2011 gets underway, take your first steps on the path to being true to yourself and your life. Are you happy where you are? Instead of worrying about tomorrow, next month, or next year, live in the moment. Let tomorrow take care of itself. Realize completely that the only thing we have at this moment is this moment! The past is gone and the future is yet to take place. Nothing can be done about either one of them. However, by being in the present and living life to its fullest will make the past more meaningful and the future more hopeful! Don't worry about the things we now call vitally important. Worry about your relationships both with one another and with God. They are truly the only reality that matters. Happy New Year!

A Remarkable Year

2010-12-19T20:54:00.000-08:00

As we near Christmas and the end of the year, my mind seems to naturally want to drift over the last twelve months in order to see where I have been and to where I might be headed.

The year 2010 is one that will stand out in my mind for years to come and will probably still be standing when I breathe my last.

While it is true that every year can be considered remarkable in its own right, 2010 seem to hold a confluence of events that taken by themselves would most certainly constitute those events we call life changing. They are the events that, when recalled, evoke emotions and thoughts that may have been long since submerged into the subconscious mind. However, this year, these earth shaking events seemed to come all at once over a twelve month period that no one could in their wildest imaginations call dull.

This year produced losses of monumental stature. It delivered shocks that blindsided all. It also brought the joy that life craves and demands sharing. It had nearly everything.

In the spring of 2010, the Smith family (my wife's family) experienced the sudden and tragic passing of the family patriarch, Lloyd. Lloyd was an uncommon man in that his gentleness and way of life touched each one of us in ways that were so very personal and tender. He reveled in his family over the years and took great pride in all they accomplished. He loved every member in a unique way and showed that love by simply sitting back at family gatherings and smiling at all the activities swirling about him.

I shall never forget the April morning that he died. He had been in the hospital for five weeks battling heart disease which was only discovered upon his admission. For nearly four weeks, he had been unconscious after his heart stop for nearly seventeen minutes late one night. He died shortly after 7:00 in the morning of April 9th. His passing, while a shock, was not unexpected. I remember driving the short distance to the hospital to see him in that bed one last time as though it was yesterday.

There was an irony to the morning. It was early spring and all the ornamental trees were in full bloom. The hills were alive with color for the first time in months. There was a chill to the air that morning, but the a warming breeze gently blew the delicate flower petals in the bright sunshine. Birds were beginning to sing loudly and all throughout the day. Earth was coming to life after a long winter's slumber. The sting of his passing still lingers within all who knew him. Each of us treasures personal memories as we approach this first Christmas without him. Our sadness is balanced by the wonderful moments we recall with the passing of each day and in remembering, it doesn't seem as though he is far away from us at all. In fact, he isn't. He is within each of our hearts.

Later in the year, on the King side of the household, two elderly members of the family were struck ill quite suddenly and unexpectedly shortly before another monumental event was to take place. My dear daughter-in-law's grandmother and grandfather encountered health issues that shook the foundation of the family. Anticipation of what was about to happen was tempered with the realities of older age and declining health. But even in this, we were reminded of the wondrous resilience of the human heart that is dependent on God for its strength and tenacity. Both members are doing fine for the moment, but, inevitably, trouble will come once again, and yet, because of the enormous faith of this family, all will be well.

Shortly before Independence Day, I received a phone call as I was driving to work that took me by surprise. My mother, I was informed, had broken her hip and now lay in a hospital bed. We rushed to her side and watched her lie still for three straight days under the influence of pain medication while levels of the blood thinner coumadin lowered in order that surgery might be performed to repair the damaged bone. Eventually surgery was performed successfully and her rehabilitation began. She moved to a nursing home where she received intensive physical therapy. Through it all she showed her great determination and strength. She vowed that she would return to her home in an assisted living facility before the end of the year and just a few short weeks ago she met that goal. Her strength is remarkable.

In the fall of the year, my niece by marriage, Becca, set off for her first semester of college. A very intelligent and charming young lady, she looked forward to the new adventure with great anticipation. Mom and dad had a lot of anticipation as well and looked upon this new page of life with a bittersweet glance. Their little girl, the light of both their lives, was moving into a new world. She was truly becoming her own person now and that was both gratifying and frightening. I am sure that the emotions ran high on that hot August day when Becca moved away from home and took up residence in her new world. I am happy to report that she took to her new life with great excitement and embraced her new found independence in a manner that has made us all proud. She has now completed her first semester of college and is embracing life with the vigor and enthusiasm as only a young adult can.

Life this year, as I said before, was a very mixed bag. Yes, there was a lot of sadness with death, illness, and accidents visiting one right after another. But there was also the joy of new life coming into the world. In September, little Noelliah King came into the world to join her two bigger sisters and mom and dad. There is nothing quite like the birth of a child regardless of whether it is the first child or the twentieth. With each birth, we are reminded of the sanctity of life and how blessed we are to have new members of the family. We are reminded that our sadness is not something that will last forever. Sadness will be eclipsed by the joy of new life every time even though a part of us may remain sad over a loss. With new life there is a future and with that future the one thing the human heart craves right behind love--hope. To see Noelliah is to see the future and to know that God is looking out after us.

And so 2010 is almost history. It was a year of death and life that was, at times, very difficult to bear. However, because we have a family that survives on love of life and of one another, we have kept the proper perspective of things. Yes, we will miss Lloyd, most especially as Christmas comes upon us. His empty chair will remind us of the empty space in our hearts left by his passing. But we will be heartened by the room full of family because it is in this that he lives on.

Our joy of our newest little one reflects the joy and hope of the season as we celebrate the coming of Jesus into this world as a man. His was the ultimate sacrifice and we should take comfort in the fact that He knows exactly what this year has been for us because He lived among us as one of us. It is in Him that we place our hope and our love and know that the wounds of 2010 will be healed by this Great Physician. We also entrust to Him the newest members of the family as well as the rest of us who continue to live our lives out and who, in 2011, will come to love Him even more deeply.

And to all of you who read this, it is my wish that you have a very Merry and Blessed Christmas and that the loving Father who is God and Lord of us all continue to bless you with all good things and the promise of life eternal.

Is Nothing Sacred?

2010-11-30T20:55:00.000-08:00

The Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., has always been the storehouse for artifacts and memorabilia that has marked the history of this country. Within its massive walls you will find such things as John Glen's spacecraft Friendship 7 that carried the first American to orbit the earth. The venerable Spirit of St. Louis, the plane piloted by Charles A. Lindbergh, the first flier to cross the Atlantic alone, can be found suspended from the Air and Space wing of the museum. A complete collection of the evening gowns worn by the First Ladies of this country are also on display. Nearly anything with historic value and interest can be found within the Smithsonian's confines. For all of its history, it has been a dignified repository of America's historic pieces.

However, in the last few days, the museum has seen fit to display a vile image of large ants eating at Jesus crucified. The display entitled "A Fire in My Belly," also included other questionable pieces of "art." But this image of Jesus on the cross being consumed by ants is way over the top. To say the least, it is a defilement of an image that millions of people across this land hold sacred because of what it represents to them.

We do have freedom of speech and expression in this country but does that really mean that anyone can say and/or do anything they want and label it as freedom of speech. One of my greatest objections to this display has been the complete disregard for believers in Christ the artist and the Institution have demonstrated in allowing this display. Their freedom of speech seems to completely disregard of countless Americans to worship as they please. Where is the diversity displayed in this exhibition? Where is the compassion and the caring for those with whom you may have a philosophical disagreement?

Certainly the question must naturally arise, would the artist and the Smithsonian permit this exhibit if the victim of the hungry ants was Mohamed? I think not. The Muslim community would raise a chorus of protests and rightfully so. The more extreme wing of the Muslim faith would most likely promise violence as a form of retribution for such a public display.

Is nothing sacred these days? It seems not, especially when it comes to the Christian faith. Those who preach tolerance seem to mean through their actions that they will tolerate only those who happen to agree with their particular points of view. Anyone who disagrees with them is fair game using any method to attack.

There is very little explanation why there is such ignorance in the world with the exception of stating emphatically that this exhibit is yet again a sign of the reality of Satan in the world. There are those who groan and moan and roll their eyes at the mention of Satan, relegating that particular belief to the status of myth that only those who are uneducated and unsophisticated believe. Even the President of the United States joined in in this philosophy when, as a candidate for president, he talked about the masses who cling to their religion and their guns.

We need to pray for these individuals. This is a form of persecution, this exhibition. But we could and should have seen it coming for Jesus predicted it. To paraphrase Him, He told us that we should not be surprised if we were to be persecuted since those of His time persecuted Him for His teachings. What makes us any different as followers of the Master?

Fortunately, late today, bowing under pressure, the Smithsonian relinquished and closed the exhibit. However, the damage to this venerable institution has been soiled badly. We must look to Christ for direction in situations like these. We must condemn the actions of groups like these but we must also remember to treat them with dignity and integrity for they, too, are children of God even if they do not believe.

Is there nothing sacred? Yes there is! And it is the dignity of man simply because we are all children of God. The battle will not be won on some field somewhere with weapons. It will be won with prayer and gentle, yet firm admonishment of artists and institution who are insistent on exhibiting such vile pieces of "art."

Retrospection

2010-11-26T22:02:00.000-08:00

Now that Thanksgiving 2010 is in the books, it is time to look back at the holiday with some insights that may be new, but probably not.

I had the distinct pleasure of spending the holiday with members of my wife's family. We were invited to their beautiful home in the Ozarks for a wonderful feast celebrating the things we are most thankful for. That is what the day is for, after all.

When all thirty or so of us had gathered, it was time for grace, to acknowledge God as the center of our lives and the reason for the feast which we were about to partake of. It was interesting how the group gathered for the prayer. We all assembled in a circle. No one directed this, it just happened. It was interesting that we did this because the circle is a never ending thing. It has no beginning and, hard as you might try, you will never find an ending. It is perpetual.

That is what a family is in a way. At one point in history it may have had a beginning with a young couple united in matrimony starting a family. As time goes on more and more members join the unit whether they are born into it or join it through marriage. As the circle grows, it becomes more diverse, stronger. The love that is shared has a perpetual quality about it since the love shared in the present will resonate well into the future. The circle will continue to enlarge or it may shrink, but the love that binds will not diminish.

Family is what Thanksgiving is ultimately about. Sure, we're all individually thankful about various elements in our lives. However, for most of us, the thing we have to be most thankful for are those people we call family. Without family, life is a hard and cruel place. Yes, families do feud from time to time and some may even go years without contact or speaking to one another. But even in these less than acceptable conditions, there is still that familial love that binds and will continue from this world to the next.

As we gave thanks in prayer, our attention was drawn to the center of the circle. There was nothing there but empty space. At least that is what the physical world told us. However, in reality, the center of that circle, the focus of our attention, was the love that was shared for each individual standing around that geometrical shape. And that love, in that moment and into the future, came from a loving God who had gathered us together for this occasion.

So you see, God was and indeed is, at the center of this family's life. May He continue to bless us with His bounteous love and take us well into the future as Thanksgivings continue to come and go.

A Time of Thanks

2010-11-24T17:10:00.000-08:00

This is the traditional time of year that we all look back over the last year in order to take into account what we have to be thankful for. Most of the time for many of us, we like to look over our treasures, both little and large, to gauge just how well the year was for us. But I would like to reflect over the next few moments at something a little different than goods and services that may have in some way improved our lives.

This has been a year of remarkable swings in the fortunes of the families that I am honored to be a part of.

The year began as any other year might. All were filled with hope and anticipation that 2010 would be at least a little better and kinder than 2009. However, as the time moved forward, things took a turn for the worse for my wife's family. Their father, Lloyd Smith, was diagnosed with severe heart problems and operated on in the early days of March. He came through the surgery without any problems, but soon after surgery, he lapsed into a state of unconsciousness that ended, sadly, on April 9. The giant of the family had gone home.

On my side of the family, however, 2010 brought the hope of new life and the future. On September 11, 2010, our fourth granddaughter was born to my son Josh and his wife Melissa. What a blessed event it is to see new life ushered into our midst! Their family, three girls along with mom and dad, have much to be thankful for. About a month later, in mid-October, my other son, Josh's twin, welcomed into this world the first King grandson. Again, new life brought forth new hope.

And there were the minor, almost unnoticed details that make up a bulk of the time of a man's life. Good and bad, they constitute living and living is far better than not being at all.

This year has been a treasure in so many ways. Through the tragedy of the spring, I saw, and was a part, of a family drawing closer together as they bid their father farewell. It was heart wrenching to see the sadness and grief on their faces as they lay to rest their parent. But Lloyd would have liked the outcome. He would have liked the fact that all came together in a celebration of his life as they remember the myriad of stories recalled during the funeral. There was far more laughter and nostalgia during those few days of mourning than there were tears. The fabric of the family was not torn nor was it weakened. Rather, it was strengthened and made anew with the memory of a beloved mother and father as the centerpiece of the life of the siblings.

Through the joy of the fall, I witnessed the hope of new life. I saw the future burn bright for young families who are the building blocks of our destiny. The smiles of newborns are hard to resist because they dispel the darkness in one split second and somehow, the world doesn't seem such a lonely and cold place in which to live. The hope of a future filled with promise and excitement looms before this family and life, energetic, exuberant life, charges forward. And through it all, our spark of life is renewed and rekindled.

And then the treasure of a spouse who you do not know what you would do without comes to mind. Joan is not only my spouse but my friend, my confidant. She, too, gives life and energy to me and makes me understand the important things in life. She is my heart and soul and life is simply unthinkable without her.

So as we gather around the Thanksgiving table tomorrow, regardless of whether that table is a magnificent tribute to the bounty that we have been blessed with, or whether that table is a humble offering of the love reflected in the family gathered to give thanks despite its meager contents, may we not forget to pause and give thanks for one another. Then, in the end, but certainly not last, may we remember to give thanks to God for all His blessings large and small. As Archbishop Fulton J Sheen once said, "Life is worth living!" May we always live it to the fullest filled with thanks each and every day for the people in our lives who help to make us who we are.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Oprah's Stuff

2010-11-21T17:36:00.000-08:00

I realize that what I am about to write may evoke some anger among some who may visit this site from time to time. My purpose is not to anger anyone but to share with you my viewpoint of the incredible Oprah giveaway that took place on last Friday's (11/20/10) show.

As usual, the audience gathered for the show in Oprah's Chicago studio not knowing that this was her annual gifting fest. As far as the audience knew, the shows subject was to be meditation. The adoring fans awaited for Oprah's appearance and she did not disappoint. The audience obligingly rose to their feet amidst screams of adulation as though some great military hero had just entered the room. She began the show by introducing the subject and then pulled the surprise. From here on out, the audience could barely control itself.

As each prize or gift was announced, the audience once again obliged by going wild. Both men and women jumped and clapped and screamed at the top of their lungs as the gifts were either distributed or shown to the audience. It appeared that there was about to be a mass fainting spell at any moment. This orgy of celebratory nonsense went on for what seemed to be hours even though the show is only an hour long with commercials.

This frenzy continued throughout the entire show. It was amazing to me how excited the members of this audience became over these gifts. Mind you, the gifts were not your ordinary gifts. There was a plasma TV and expensive jewelry among other things. But such display of hysteria over mere material gifts was beyond my understanding.

Now there may be some of you who would say to me that I might react in the same way. Since I have never been on the receiving end of such opulent gifts, I wouldn't know how I would react. I would hope that I would be far more restrained than Oprah's audience was. To me, this display was bordering on the obscene. It highlighted the notion for me that our material world has completely hijacked any notion of common sense and robbed us of the values that have made our society envied throughout the world. I have to wonder how many of these people complained about the lavish travels of Michelle Obama to Spain complaining of her spending so much money while millions were unemployed and finding it difficult to feed their families. I wonder, will any of these audience members sell their gifts and give the money to charities who look after the poor, the hungry, and the homeless?

All of us like to receive presents. Its fun. We all enjoy being on the receiving end of someone's generosity. But what I am saying here is that this is materialism gone wild. I am not questioning Oprah's motivation. She may be, in fact, a very generous person. What I am saying is that her gifts to this group of people and their resultant reaction tells me something disturbing about society as a whole. I'm afraid that there are many of us who would react in much the same way. Have we reached a point when materialism has become our god? Or has the drive to obtain things always been this ferocious?

Christmas is the time when we celebrate the ultimate giver, Jesus Christ. He gave His life so that all may live. I wonder if the joy on display on the Oprah show as the presents were rolled out will be duplicated in the churches as we celebrate the coming of the ultimate gifter! I rather doubt it.

A Special Day

2010-11-20T22:14:00.000-08:00

I happen to share my life with a very special woman. She has come to know me better than anyone else has ever known me in my lifetime. She gives me grounding and courage to fight the daily battles that we all face as soon as the door opens to the world in the morning.

I can count on her for her wisdom and humor. She laughs at my lame jokes and puns and is always willing to accommodate my sudden urges to go somewhere and do something on the spur of the moment.

We laugh together and have cried together. We are truly each other's best friends, not in the adolescent way, but in the way that gives life meaning and understanding between two people. We look to one another for understanding and comfort.

Remarkably, we have faced numerous crises together and have always come out the better and the closer for having done so. In her battle against breast cancer, she taught me the true meaning of the word courage. She taught me that even though fear can run deeper than anyone might possibly imagine, you can face that fear with courage and determination that defines the word dignity. She was determined to overcome this potential killer and did through her faith in God and confidence in the amazing medical staff that saw to her every medical need.

Today is an important day in our lives for on this day we celebrate yet another birthday. She deserves all the happiness in the world on this day because she has brought an abundance of happiness to not only me but to her sons as well as her family and friends. One of the greatest blessings I have experienced in my life is the blessing that God has bequeathed in allowing me to grow older with her. Life is far richer, more interesting, and more meaningful because of her presence. She gives of herself without a word of complaint and loves me despite all my faults.

Happy Birthday my dearest Joan. This day is for you. This day is a day for celebration and looking forward to our lives together in the future. May God bless you with all the happiness you deserve on this day and may our future years together be as wonderful and enriching as the past years have been!

November

2010-10-30T12:49:00.000-07:00

As the last of the brilliant October days come and go, our minds turn to November. November, that month of deepening chill and heart-warming activities.

During this month we could possibly see the first few snowflakes of the season. The weather's chill begins to set in permanently as the fall harvest, if not already completed, will soon be history. Sunny skies give way more frequently to cloudy, chilled afternoons with the wind whistling through the newly-barren trees. Trees that only a few days and weeks ago now stand as skeletons against the sky fully prepared for the frigid temperatures that may lie ahead.

Our minds also turn to the holidays, that time of year that everybody says they dread yet look forward to with great anticipation. Thanksgiving marks the end of the month but this is not the only holiday of significance in this month.

There's Veterans Day, November 11, a day set aside to honor all those who have served their country in the armed forces. It was on this day in 1918, on the 11th of the 11th hour that the Armistice between the allies and Germany ending WWI was signed. It is a day of solemn remembrances and ceremonies to help us never forget the sacrifices of previous and present generations who have served the United States with honor.

With Thanksgiving we usher in the time of the year that seems particularly devoted to gatherings of friends and family. We come together in a ritualistic sort of way to celebrate the bounty that we all enjoy. We celebrate our personal blessings and also remember the blessing that have been bestowed upon us by Almighty God as a nation and pray that He may continue to shower us with such favors. For some families, this holiday will be touched with sadness because of the departure of a loved one. Perhaps an empty chair will be placed at the table to remind all of the loss but even more importantly of what that person meant to everyone who have come together.

This year, our family will remember its patriarch, Lloyd Smith. Although he's been gone for a little over half a year, he is still thought of daily. Each of us, as we come together as a family once more, will privately remember back to last year's observance of Thanksgiving and the time we spent with him that day. Yes, there will be a slight feeling of melancholy this year, but more than that, I believe there will be joy in understanding what happiness he brought to us over the years and for that we shall all be thankful.

November. Another transitional month as we bid so long to the routinely warmer days and head inside to brace ourselves against the chill of the approaching winter. Let us all take some time daily to remember those things for which we feel most thankful. May we remember to thank one another for the things that they have done for us and for what they mean to us. And may we always be thankful to God for His blessings and presence in our lives. This is truly a season for giving thanks.

Rescued!

2010-10-13T21:24:00.000-07:00

For a few, all too brief shinning hours, the world actually seemed to come together to witness, through television pictures, 33 Chilean miners who had been trapped a little more than 2,000 feet below the surface for nearly seventy days. It was a stunning accomplishment. The success of the rescue happened in the way it did because for once, a multitude of nations came together to determine the best way to save the lives of the imprisoned men.

We witnessed some of the most remarkable technology the 21st century has to offer. A space age capsule designed in large part by NASA, served as the lifeboat for the victims of the cave in. The capsule was equipped with lighting so as to ease the fears of the miners as the device rose slowly to the surface. It also had oxygen on board in case the men felt a need for such a thing. Blue tooth technology was employed in order to keep in constant communication with the rescued worker as he ascended. A liquid drink developed by NASA provided the needed calories to help the men maintain their strength during the harrowing ride to the top. A simple, yet, I am sure, complex system was invented to lift the capsule from the floor of the chamber that housed the men for these past 70 days. In short, the whole rescue mission was a tribute to the intelligence and creativity of man.

But there was another element at work in all of this.

Many of the miners, upon reaching the surface, either knelt to give thanks, or made the sign of the cross to symbolize their gratitude to God. This aspect of the story cannot and must not be overlooked. Each man seemed to have a deepened faith due to this ordeal.

The trials through which these brave souls passed could not even be imagined by you and I. Can you really imagine what it must be like to be entombed in a small room with 33 others for 70 days not knowing whether or not you'll ever see the light of day again? And, yet, these men have survived! And while this accomplishment is a testament to the mind of man, it must also be seen as an act of mercy by a kind and loving God.

In light of the success of the rescue mission, we must understand that God alone can bring good from bad. He is the author of life and can do anything He pleases. Nothing is impossible with God! (cf Lk 1: 47) All of us are heirs to His mercy not because of anything we have done to deserve it, but because of the sacrifice His Son made for us.

Ever since the first miner came to the surface, stories of the men feeling the presence of a 34th person have circulated. The press covering this story has chosen to either ignore it or, at best, gingerly and almost sheepishly, mentioned it as an aside. But I am certain that these men did experience the presence of that unnamed 34th person. I believe, as do many of them, that they experienced in a very real way the presence of Jesus Christ.

We can all learn a lesson from these men. In their time of supreme struggle, they somehow found a way to not only survive but to maintain a healthy quality of life despite their surroundings. Their faith increased as they realized that the only real thing they possessed was their belief in Jesus Christ as their Savior. This belief sustained them, I am sure, through some of the bleakest moments underground. Those first seventeen days when it was not known if they were dead or alive had to the among the darkest of days for them. Then they were given the news that while they might be rescued after all, that rescue probably would not come until Christmas at the very earliest. The world paused and much of it offered up prayers daily for the successful return of these men to the world. And those prayers were answered.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places." (Eph 1: 3) Thus, in the end, this whole long and drawn out trial can be seen as God creating something good from something bad. It would have been very easy for the miners to have sunk into deep despair over their situation and I am sure they did experience moments of depression. But they maintained their faith in God through the knowledge that God is a just and merciful God. They also knew that the world above was praying for them. Pope Benedict XVI sent them rosaries that he blessed and kept track of them day in and day out from the Vatican.

What we have witnessed is, indeed, a miracle. There is no other word about it. Man's ingenuity and creativity is a reflection of God Himself. The men in the mine were certainly not alone in their ordeal. Neither were those who diligently worked night and day on solving the problem by discovering solutions. And neither are you and I. We are, in fact, never alone. Jesus, by His Holy Spirit, is with us always! We, too, have the gift from God that the miners felt. We have His Divine presence with us all the days of our lives. And what a miracle that is! We give thanks for the successful outcome of the disaster in Chile. And, most importantly, we must give thanks for such a loving God!

The Political Mean Season

2010-10-12T15:02:00.000-07:00

As we come down to the final three weeks of campaining for the mid-term elections, we have now entered into a particularly mean season. I don't know if you have noticed it or not, but the ads are getting more and more personal and acidic in their approach. It is the rare ad that actually tells what the candidate in question might do once they achieve the high office they are running for. Most of the ads are bitter personal attacks on the opposing candidates themselves, their party affiliation, or their private lives and their families. Its like watching a bunch of kindergarten kids squabble on the playground, only on a far larger scale and one of infinitely more importance.

The bottom line is that politicians, whether those in office or those seeking office, think we, the elcetorate, are stupid. They think we'll fall for the stuff they put out, that we'll somehow believe their opponenet is apparently Hitler reincarnated. They are quick to take shots at the opponents pasts and project that on to how they'll act in the future never once considering their own miscues and mistakes of the past. Those candidates who are now threatened with defeat in November don't look at themselves and blame their lack of attention to their own constituency. No! They'd prefer to blame the republicans, the democrats, the tea partiers, or maybe even the witch doctor down the street!

I honestly do not know what the anwer is to this dilemma. We need to elect officials who respect the public and it's wishes and opinions and not just when every election time roles around. We need to elect politicians who have the courage to step foward and say what they stand for and what they will do and let the chips fall where they may. We need term limits so that those who go to Washington to serve do eventually come home to once again become an ordinary citizen instead of that official who comes home to the fried chicken circuit!

I, for one, am glad to see an abundance of the voters getting involved in the process. More people than I can remember are interested in the politics of the day. It's just too bad that they have waited this long to become involved. We need every last voter involved in the process.

We need politicans who are willing to work together regardless of party affiliation or political philosophy, to move this country forward in a direction that builds up, not tears down. There is so much bitterness in public life that the best of us would never think of running for elective office because they have no desire to place themselves or their families in the line of fire.

Lastly, we must pray for guidance. The United States is not what it once was. That's both good and bad on many levels. We once were a place where people from all lands could come, work hard, and achieve success through the sweat of their own brow. It was a melting pot. And that pot melted all those wonderful nationalities into one even greater people: Americans! We are no longer Americans. We are African-Americans, Arab-Americans, Mexican-Americans, and on and on. Keeping the homeland's culture and customs is great, but we must remember that the United States' strength has always been our unity. We are now divided into numerous ethnical camps. Our leaders need to foster an atmosphere where the unifitcation of a people does not threaten their individual heritage. But as long as the mean season stays alive, unity will be a goal that is nearly impossible to attain.

Early Autumn

2010-10-09T15:35:00.000-07:00

Every autumn I am surprisingly amazed at the gradual transition of nature from the deep greens of summer to the vibrant, alive and ever-changing colors of fall. I remember how the trees and shrubs looked last year, but, in some way, I am once again dazzled with the vast array that mother nature presents us with year after year. It is like a reward after enduring a season of broiling hot temperatures and humidity levels that are normally found in the tropics!

This season is no different. On an unseasonably warm fall afternoon, Joan and I set out on an adventure to capture the early color of the annual fall colors. We didn't have to go far. Trees, in the process of change, dot the landscape all around our home and none of these scenes is farther than five miles away from our front door.

Deep reds, almost cranberry, dot the trunks of numerous trees as the vines that makes their home in such places begin to reflect the metamorphosis. They stand in stark contrast to the deep green of the leaves still hanging on for dear life if only for a few more days or week or two. Clear blue skies bring those marvelous colors out even more.

Some trees are tinged on the upper reaches of their branches with the colors that the entire plant will sport within a matter of days. Warm, sunny days and cool, crisp nights hurry the colors to the surface of the leaves making the transition a living, breathing creature.

I can be driving along at times and out of the corner of my eye spot some brightly colored tree or bush. My reaction is to pull off the road immediately and take the sight in as though I will never see anything like it again. In a way, the fact is that I won't see that same kind of image again. Each plant, each leaf, like we human beings, is different. Although a tree may have yellow leaves, if you look closely enough, you may notice that on that same tree, perhaps even the same branch, you will see several different shades of that very same yellow. It is a marvel of nature how she paints her creation in such subtle and majestic ways.

As we move deeper into the season and the temperatures cool even more, the fall colors with emerge even more brightly and I won't be the only one stunned by their beauty. It is important, I think, to take these brief visitations of color in. They are God's gift to us and delight us year after year. He brightens our lives with the gift of His creation and we must be good stewards of that creation for it reflects His overwhelming love for us.

So this autumn, get out, take a walk, and absorb what nature has to offer. You won't be disappointed and may even be surprised by what happens to you as you surround yourself with the tangible evidence of God's love for the world in general, and the human race in particular. It will relax you. It will inspire you. And a walk in the glory of the season may even change your life. Whatever happens, one thing is for sure. We live within a spectacular creation!

Come, October!

2010-09-30T18:19:00.000-07:00

Who among us of a certain age does not have a certain wistful, almost sentimental feeling about the month of October? It is a month of contrasts and dramatic changes that delight and intrigue all at the same time. The seasons have finished their transition with the beginning of the month as the pageant of color begins its magnificent parade. Wildlife of every kind can be seen busily gathering food and eating more than their normal share in preparation for the cold, stark months ahead. Afternoon skies, deep blue more so now than at any other time of the year, begin to usher in the chilled evenings as air conditioning gives way to fireplaces and iced teas give way to hot chocolates and soothing hot tea. It is a time of magic, a time of shifting our gears as our playground now begins to shift from outdoors to in.

Again, who among us of a certain age, cannot fail at this time of the year to remember the aroma of leaves burning in late afternoons and early evenings. Neighborhoods would gather on their lawns for the annual harvesting of the summer leaves now lying still upon the ground as precious tree sap retreats to the insulation of underground for their winter nap. Those leaves only days before painted canopies of color that even the most talented of artists could not possibly capture with any accuracy. The gentle winds of the season blow them about as those released from their branches dance their way to the earth.

We retreat indoors more frequently and, in some ways, rediscover each other. We reach out to family and friends for more substantial meals beyond the hot dogs, hamburgers, and ribs of our summer cookouts. Aromas of slow cooked sumptuous meals fill the house with an intoxicating smell that cannot be experienced in any other way except for being there in the moment.

The boys of summer close their season as the gridiron warriors take center stage, the nation's pastime giving way to the nation's passion. Football parties in living rooms, family rooms, and the ultimate fans sports room takes on a ritual feel.

Chilly rains and leaden gray skies lead us to think more frequently of the upcoming months, the months filled with holiday preparations. Afghans appear on the backs of couches as the weather cools and cozy becomes a comforting thought. The north winds begin their season long dominance as the southerly breezes make fewer and fewer appearances. Thoughts of snow begin to creep into the consciousness as reports reach us of mountain snows in the distant Rockies.

October! A month of excitement and celebration. A month of warm sunny days at the start of the month, and a month of crisp autumn nights as the month closes out with ghosts and goblins roaming the cityscaspes and countryside. There is no other month like this one because nature delights in ways beyond the color and enchantment of spring. For a few short days, the colors seem beyond that of nature as we treasure our moments with them, knowing that the browns and plain colors of late autumn and winter await.

October calls us to live life to the fullest. To enjoy each passing day with the enthusiasm of a child who sees their first multi-colored leaf. It invites us into ourselves and our families unlike any other season and month. It calls us to treasure the moments of our lives when family warms our hearts and gives us the comfort of life continuing no matter come what may.

October! Come, October, and enchant us all once more!

Peace Be With You

2010-09-29T21:45:00.000-07:00

Peace. That elusive element in all our lives that we spend so much time searching for really isn't all that elusive at all.

We human beings tend to look for the things for which we most yearn in every place possible except the most likely of places. In the matter of peace, we search out places, other people as companions, certain situations or settings and while we may actually find some sense of peace in these places, we can never seem to come to rest.

Since our beginnings, we have wrestled with chaos and peace. The peace process is not an easy one, especially within ourselves. Many of us are born into chaotic situations that make peace within ourselves a near impossibility. Still others are born with what seems to be a wandering spirit, always unsettled, always searching. We look for inner peace because inner peace leads to peace between peoples.

The woes of the world, I believe, can be directly linked to the inability of a vast majority of us to find that inner peace for which our soul cries out for. We are insecure beings, always looking over our shoulder for the approach of the enemy while often the enemy comes from within.

It is hard to look inside in an honest fashion to discover what may stand in our way to our path toward peace. It usually involves reliving to a certain extent painful memories of incidents that may have long since ended but whose effects still live on in our hearts. Often, on our way to this inner peace, and thus, harmony with ourselves, we discover that we must forgive others or even, perhaps, ourselves. This is a most difficult task that requires a great deal of energy, time, and most importantly, an honest love for ourselves in humility and understanding. We must hold ourselves accountable for those things which stand in our way to peace. And we must develop the ability to move on beyond our deepest wounds so that peace may provide the healing balm to our woundedness.

There is only one true source of this kind of peace and you cannot find it "somewhere." You cannot touch this source as you might touch the softness of a newborn. You cannot see its majesty as you can view the power of the mountains as the sun sets gently beyond the horizon. This source is mystical and divine in nature and far beyond our poor power to explain or understand. To experience this source requires the faith of a child and the observation of a hawk in flight. It requires surrender to ourselves and our surroundings so that nothing interferes with our journey. It has had no beginning and will have no end. And, yet, there is no physical evidence of its existence, nor is there any proof that it acts in humanity. Yet, we know that it does. Who or what is this mysterious "it?" God.

God is the source of all true peace. His is the peace of the divine not the mortal. His peace is beyond all understanding and is given freely to all who earnestly seek this gift. Seeking the gift requires prayer, moments of contemplation, and study.

Prayer allows us to open our hearts to God. Every time we open our hearts to our Creator, our hearts become a little softer, our judgements a little less harsh. Prayer unites us in mind and spirit with God and we are taken in to Him and encounter His peace.

But prayer is not the only thing we need to practice in order to acquire this peace. We must be still. Too often we bombard God with endless babble that we call prayer but which is really only our feeble attempt to cover physical silence with spiritual nonsense. We must still our minds, being careful to eliminate all "clutter" and then, and only then, will we be able to clearly hear the voice of God.

In addition, we must study the word of God as found in Sacred Scripture. We must prayerfully contemplate the words of God to gain a deeper, more meaningful and realistic idea of who He is. This takes time and persistence. But it can be done and we will be the better for having done it.

Once we find the heart of God, we will have found the heart of peace. Then we shall have discovered that peace that all of us yearns for. And then, once we have become awash in God's peace, we can communicate that peace with others in our lives. Harmony will follow, though not without difficulty.

Peace. That elusive state of being and mind that seems to escape us all is quite attainable. We have a God Who is more than willing to lead us to this state. We simply must cooperate and follow His will. Then, despite the chaos swirling around us at any given time, peace, true peace, shall be ours!

September: A Month of Transition

2010-09-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

Among the many mysteries and marvels of life, one stands out in my mind that we seldom give much thought to. What an amazing mystery and truth we have in the changing of the seasons. The change is as predictable as anything we encounter in life, yet, every time the seasons change there is something different, something almost mystical about it. The month of September is a perfect example.

Early September still resembles August. There is still the heat and humidity with little relief over night. But as the month progresses, a change, which has in fact been occurring since late June, begins to be very noticeable. Each day, the sun sets a little earlier than the next. We don't notice it because of the majestic and ever-present spinning earth slowly but surely moving north to south and south to north on its axis. However, in early September, there seems to be one day when almost everyone notices just how dark it is getting so much earlier.

Birds seem to be hungrier than before. At our feeders just outside our living room window, birds flock in higher numbers than in the summer months, gobbling up all the seed they can in apparent preparation for the harsh winter months ahead. Many who only weeks before sported the bright colors of their breed now begin to molt, their color fading in preparation for the stark landscape that awaits us all. Humming birds in particular, gather in greater numbers with voracious appetites as they seek as much energy producing they can find just ahead of their great migration to the south.

Skies, once milky white, filled with heat and humidity brought about by the summer climate, now become a deeper blue. When clouds gather and rain falls, the temperature drops noticeably and the ceilings above us somehow look much lower.

Our thoughts begin to turn to more indoor activities even though there is plenty of warm weather left to enjoy the great outdoors. Such events as Halloween and Thanksgiving begin to announce their arrival if only on he fringe of our consciousness. With the kids back in school and football in full swing, the thought of family get together arises and we begin to recall those rituals that we may have celebrated as a family for years.

September is a month when life slows down a bit from the frenetic pace of the summer months. Sure, there is a lot to do especially when kids are present and school activities begin, but the month is a time to shift gears. We begin to prepare ourselves for the long season ahead of chilly days and cold nights. The reality of the cycle of life begins to renew itself in this month of change and while the colors of autumn have not yet made an appearance in this part of the country, it is but a few weeks before the majesty of fall makes its presence felt. September ushers this dramatic change in as the deep greens of summer fade. Cornfield ripen into the gentle golds that stretch from horizon to horizon. Soy beans late in month ripen into their familiar browns. When the north wind blows towards the end of the month, we begin to feel its chill for the first time in months.

September. A month of transition. God's gentle way for preparing us for the months of darkness and chill that are just as necessary to life as the warm months that come alive with outdoor activities. This month is a mystical experience that occurs so slowly that we, with our busy lives, barely notice until the changes become so dramatic that we cannot help but see. Take some time to notice the changes and realize the miracle of the predictability of this time and marvel in how much different this September is from last and how much different next year's September will be from this one. It is a mystical season!

9/11...A Proud Day!

2010-09-11T11:09:00.000-07:00

As the United States observes the ninth anniversary of the attack on America, we in the King family have a whole range of emotions. Certainly, we feel the sadness and relive the shock of that horrible September day those many years ago. We feel for the families of all the loved ones who perished in that tragic turn of events. However, there is great joy in our hearts as well because at 3:45 this morning, September 11, 2001, the newest member of the family took front and center stage. Noelliah Hayden King began her adventure in life at 7 lbs 1 ounce and 19 inches long. She and mom are doing quite well and there are two big sisters who are thrilled with their newest family member.

What great pride and joy we feel at this wonderful event. New life is always a matter for celebration and joy. I believe that the joy we feel on this particular day is one of the healing balms that God has allowed to heal at least a little part of a hurting world.

Just as her sisters before her, Noelliah represents hope and anticipation for the future for our family. She has a lifetime ahead of her of growth, of life, and of loving life and embracing it. She is truly blessed to be surrounded by a mom and dad who are fully dedicated to her in these her first hours, and who will continue that devotion throughout their lives. She has two sisters who eagerly await to show their new sibling "the ropes." One thing is for certain, with Aliyah and Kiki around, little Noelliah will certainly become a book lover!

Noelliah Hayden is love personified. She has been lively all during the pregnancy as if to show her parents the kind of spirit she has. I can't imagine anyone who could be any prouder of the moment than her grandfather. There is a quiet joy within me that has brought a sense of peace to me. Being a grandparent is a relatively easy thing. We get to spoil the child and then return them to her parents to undo some of the little things we may have thrown out of whack! But it is all done in love.

Celebrate with us, if you will, this new life and new hope for the future. Life is extending itself on this morning and afternoon of tragic memories. Tragedy is replaced by supreme good and while we still may feel the sting of that 9/11 of nine years ago, the happiness of the birth of Noelliah Hayden King, reminds us that with faith and belief, joy will return!

Happy Birthday Noelliah!

A Milestone Moment

2010-09-10T20:05:00.000-07:00

As I write this I find myself experiencing a sense of complete awe. A long journey that my wife Joan and I began over five years ago has come to an end.

You see, five years ago this past February, Joan was diagnosed with breast cancer. Not only did she have cancer, her cancer was in stage three, no a good place to be. The tumor measured 4.5 cm by 5.5 cm, roughly the size of a small egg. Doctors delivered the news grimly and with great urgency because of the large size of the tumor.

Immediately, she began what was to be six rounds of chemotherapy in an attempt to combat the cancer prior to surgery which would be performed down the road. The hopes were, in the beginning, that the tumor would, perhaps, shrink by half and hopefully not have metastasized. Every three weeks, we traveled to Springfield, Illinois, where, under the watchful eye of the staff of the SIU School of Medicine, the toxic chemicals were administered.

The staff couldn't have been better. They were kind and very understanding. We had heard so much about the horrible complications of chemo, yet, we also knew it was the one way we had of combating this dreadful disease.

I watched as Joan braced herself with each visit for all the sticking of needles and the slow drip, drip, drip of the medication that was formulated to seek and destroy the cancerous lesion. One of the chemicals, a bright red liquid resembling cherry kool-aid had to be administered by a nurse who was dressed head to toe in a specialized suit designed to protect them from the chemical that they slowly injected into Joan's frail veins. The chemical was so strong that if but one drop happened to spill onto the skin, it would quickly burn through the layers. Fortunately that never happened.

Round after round of chemo, I watched Joan and developed a deep admiration for my wife that I had not had before. Her chemo treatments involved a number of different needle sticks. This would not be a problem if she had veins that were easy to access. However, her veins did not cooperate. They rolled, shrank, and did everything but disappear the minute the cold steel of the needle came into contact with them. Time and again, she withstood the stabbing without uttering a word. I saw the pain in her eyes, but she was determined that this not get the best of her and it never did.

In addition, the violent illness we had heard so much about surrounding the administration of chemo never materialized. This was due, in part, to some wonderful drugs that were administered a couple of days before and after the chemo itself. And, if these things weren't enough, within 48 hours of the chemo, she had to return to the doctor to endure a shot of a drug designed to boost her immune system so that she would not be susceptible to such things as colds and flu which, without her immune system in full strength could prove to be fatal.

After six rounds of chemo administered over an 18 week period, doctors found upon examination of the tumor that it had shrunk to nearly nothing. It was now time for surgery.

On the morning of August 9, 2005, the woman that I love so very much, accompanied a surgical nurse down the hallway of the operating suites of Mercy Medical Center in Springfield, to have the tumor excised and to ensure that there had been no spread of the cancer.

The clock, at that moment, stopped for me. Every second seemed an hour and every time someone came through the door from the operating rooms area, I jumped up expecting to talk to her surgeon. I tried to read. I paced. I drank what seemed to be gallons of water from the nearby water fountain. Still, no doctor.

Now during this time, your mind likes to conger up everything that could have gone wrong or imagine that a new and even more frightening discovery has been made. Finally, after about 50 minutes, the doctor came through the surgical suite door and called out my name. I sprang to my feet and was at his side in a second. He then delivered the good news. When he entered the area where the tumor was located, he could not find it! It had shrunk to 2mm! The surgical team could literally not even see it, finding only the little clip that was implanted into the center of the tumor before chemo began.

Once Joan healed, she then faced 36 radiation treatments. Every day with the exception of Saturday and Sunday, we trekked over to Springfield for her five minute treatment. With radiation, she was first given a general area dose of the invisible rays. Her last 10 treatments, however, were concentrated on the exact spot where the tumor had resided. This caused intense burning that was every bit as painful as a deep sunburn. Still, Joan did not complain.

Once the treatments were complete, it was time to go back to the doctor and for the next five years, visits to the oncologist became a way of life.

Today, on our final visit to Springfield, we were given the word. There has been no recurrence of the cancer and it is, in fact, in complete remission! In other words, the doctor said, Joan has been completely cured of breast cancer.

What an emotional moment. I remember back to the dark days right after the diagnosis and my sleepless nights worrying and wondering how all of this would turn out. I turned to God and my faith to sustain us. I knew that the Heavenly Physician would take care of things and that if it meant a cure, fantastic. But I also understood that it was quite possible that a cure would be impossible and that would have to be fantastic as well. Whatever the outcome, we would deal with it in dignity, integrity and with complete faith in God.

Thankfully, the route granted by God was a cure.

During these five years, much has happened. Joan's mother died shortly after chemo had begun. It was a sudden death. We welcomed into the family a little girl named Keirah who brought a sense of joy into our lives that cannot be expressed. Earlier this year, Joan's beloved father died, also quite suddenly. And, then, of course, there were all those daily stresses and strains that make up life.

I am humbled by so many things in this story.

First, I am humbled and eternally grateful to a God who stood by us through the whole ordeal, giving us the strength to press on. He gave Joan the courage to endure the pain of chemo and surgery and the burns of radiation without losing her faith in Him.

Secondly, I am humbled by the courage and bravery exhibited by Joan. No one can ever know what she went through inside, but I had the honor to accompany her on this journey and saw the inner strength of a woman that is beyond remarkable.

Thirdly, I am humbled by all those who offered their prayers and support through all of this. In particular, I am so thankful for Joan's family who, like a rock, served as an anchor through it all without ever really knowing it.

And fourth, I am humbled that I could have been guided to marry such a courageous soul as Joan. She has always sustained me and I was only too glad to lend what support I could to her as she endured the physical and emotional pain through this trying time.

Now that we have emerged on the other side of this journey, I can truly say that we are closer than ever before. God has granted this miracle (one of the doctors actually called this a miracle!) so that we may now reach out to others in our own way so that as they begin facing the crisis of a cancer diagnosis, they do not have to give up or give in. Through Joan's story and countless others similar to this, they can know that real miracles can and do happen in this day and age.

As the future unfolds before us, I ask a gracious God to guide our path to do His will, to give Him honor and praise in thanksgiving for this amazing outcome. Take this story into your hearts and hold onto it for those days when all seems lost. For, as I have learned, nothing is ever lost as long as we have faith!

Burning the Koran

2010-09-08T15:08:00.000-07:00

The deicision of a Florida preacher and his congregation to burn copies of the Koran to commemorate 9/11 this coming Saturday is not only outrageous but a completely cowardly act. The minister, whose congregation numbers about 50 members, is completely misguided in his pending actions.

Yes, constitutionally speaking, he does have the right to burn the books. There is no arguing that. The same can be said for the planned mosque in New York. The owners of the property do have a right to build anything they see fit on their lot. However, in both instances, the right does not translate into the prudent act.

Burning the Koran will undoubtedly lead to violence against America and Americans accross the globe. It is an unneccessary act that will only promote more bloodshed in an already too bloody conflict. The Koran is the holy book of Islam and, as such, should be respected for that reason alone. If a group of Muslims were to publicly burn copies of the Holy Bible, what would the minister say to that? How would he respond to such a provocative action?

Our Lord is very clear on this subject. There is no room for debate. He said, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven." (Mt 5: 44-45) This is the real course of action that should be taking place this Saturday.

We do need to take a stand where extremism of any kind is concerned. Extremists, also known as Zealots, never bring anything good. They do not stop to consider the position of the oppostion and become self-righteous in the process. This is the case here.

What will take place if the Koran is burned, is not an act of a Christian, a true believer in Jesus Christ. In a sense, this misguided minister becomes just like those whom he protests against--an extremist. He performs an abhorrent act using religion as a convenient cover for his hatred and anger.

All of are saddened and angered when we think of the events of nine years ago. Who can forget the images that were burned into the American consciousness that morning of the two towers belching black smoke accross the clear New York sky? Who will ever forget the horrifying pictures that came to us of people jumping from windows 100 stories above the pavement rather than facing burning to death? We will never forget those events of that day, but we must not allow ourselves to become an extremist in response to this kind of action.

Does the minister have the right to burn the Koran in protest? Yes. Is it the prudent thing to do? No! We must find more peaceful and more powerful ways of communicating our anger and distrust than the destruction of the Koran or the books will not only be consumed by the flames. The flames of hate will, if we are not careful, will consume us as a society, destroying the best hope for peace on the planet.

Kiki's Day

2010-09-06T11:11:00.000-07:00

A very sweet little girl who is so special in the hearts of all her family, celebrates her fourth birthday today. Four years ago as she made her entrance into the world, we all sat in exciting anticipation. Her big sister Aliyah was probably the most excited since, with the arrival of the new little one, her position in the family would be elevated to that of "big sister."

Keirah, or Kiki as she is most commonly is called, is a bundle of love. She has a sweet and loving nature and when she looks at you with those beautiful eyes, you melt and would willingly do anything that she asked of you.

Kiki loves to share. As her grandfather, we have shared many a moment going over an incomplete inventory of dolls and other collectibles that she has accumulated in her four years. The only reason the inventory was incomplete is because we seldom have enough time to make a thorough scan of all those things. She is sharp as a tack, able to name all her dolls, stuffed animals, and other assorted goodies she can produce in a heartbeat from her room.

She and her sister are inseparable. Oh there are little disputes between them from time to time as can be expected, but neither would ever dare to think what it would be like to be without the other. Aliyah delights in looking after Kiki's needs and Kiki delights in mothering everyone in sight. Even at four years old, she seems to have an innate sense about those who may be in need and is more than willing to do something for them.

Most of all, from this grandpa's perspective, Kiki is a spark of life that is beyond precious. She slowly warms up to me on those times I am able to see her, but once she does she has my heart. She brings a wonderfully warm sense for life with a smile that is filled with love and a twinkle in her eye that tells of her enormous spirit tucked away inside this little dynamo's body.

Kiki is special to all the family and being her grandfather is a blessing indeed. Now, as we celebrate her fourth birthday, we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of a new sister. She can't wait to be an older sister and she has had an excellent role model in Aliyah. Kiki, I am sure, will shower her new sister with all the love she can muster and this new little girl will never be without attention.

Happy Birthday, Kiki! God has blessed us with you and you have lifted our spirits higher than you will ever know. I am quite sure that you will be the best big sister any little girl could ever want!

The Season of Lunacy

2010-09-05T16:17:00.000-07:00

September. Labor Day. The unofficial end of the summer season. And, also, the start of the season of sheer lunacy also known as campaign time.

It is the time of the year when our thoughts turn toward those cool, crisp days ahead filled with yellows, golds, crimsons, and every other color imaginable. Football once again resumes and the days grow shorter as thoughts of the upcoming holidays begin to creep into our minds. However, along with all these pleasantries comes the blaring on radio and television of ads touting one candidate for congress and the senate over the other. They aren't ads that educate since most of them tell us what kind of jerk they're running against.

The biggest joke of this political season stars (who else?) President Barack Obama. Here comes a man, a great communicator, who will tell us that happy days are here again because the unemployment rate climbed another tenth of a percent from 9.5% to 9.6%, a clear indication (says he) that things are really improving. His befuddled vice president Joe Biden gleefully declared that this was to be the "recovery summer" where the economy is concerned. Well, Joe, take a look around you! Unemployment is climbing (despite what you want us to think) and there doesn't appear to be an end to this mess any time soon.

Then there's the First Lady of the United States (FLOTUS) Michelle Obama. Michelle is out there telling every parent in the land that she know how to control the problem of obesity. She is telling the medical profession that they should begin prescribing medication for children with weight problems to bring this epidemic under control. She urges people to eat more healthily, which is a good thing. However, every time you see the Obama family out and about whether on one of their many vacations or in Washington, we are shown images of the First Family gleefully downing huge ice cream cones! I thought that stuff was supposed to kill you!

On the Republican side of things, we have a party who does nothing but tell you how wrong Obama has been on everything. They try to convince you that they have all the answers. Just leave it up to them. Well, we did for the first six years of this decade and what happened? Record deficits piled up as our national debt climbed to dizzying heights. Two wars drained our treasury and, worse yet, took thousands of young American lives. Constant bickering and posturing ruled the day and then, like now, nothing ever was really accomplished. The question must be asked, then, "Why should we put you back in charge? Because you aren't Barack Obama and the democrat party?"

What we need to do is become more and more involved as citizens. We need to look at our elected officials with respect but also with a sense of profound suspicion. They give lip service to how important we are in between election cycles and then go right ahead and do as they please. (See health care reform!) We need to hold each one of them accountable, questioning all their decisions and weighing their judgement by what we want as a citizenry. Yet, in this season of lunacy we are told how intelligent and important we are, that we have the wisdom of Solomon and will do what is right for the country. Don't believe a word of it. They are simply jockeying for power and prestige.

Follow the campaigns in your districts and states this season. Follow them closely. If a candidate says something, challenge them through email campaigns, town meetings, and debates. Don't let them answer in the political speak that the mainstream media just blinks at and participates in. We as a populace are intelligent and we can see for ourselves what is happening. Try telling one of your neighbors, friends, or family members that the economy is getting better just after they lose their job. See what that poll will tell you.

Democrats need to be fearful of the results this fall but republicans can take little solace while salivating over what appears as a sure shot take over of the House and the possibility of gaining a Senate majority once again. Both parties are a disgrace to the American system and this experiment that was begun well over two hundred years ago. Time for the jokes has come to an end. We, as the electorate, must turn the lunacy season into the serious season whereby we, the people, assert ourselves once again in the American political process.

Another Page Turned...A New Chapter Begun

2010-08-31T20:52:00.000-07:00

At long last, the longest month of the year (at least in my opinion) fades into the pages of history, and with it, meteorological summer! This has been an uncommonly long month filled with broiling heat, stifling humidity, and seemingly endless nights in which the temperature failed to drop below 80. There is only one good thing about August--it ends!

Now we move into September and the hope of a fall with cooler temperatures and the promise of vibrant colors as Autumn looms on the horizon. This year there is an added bonus to the family. Within the next several days, the latest King will make her appearance. She is already showing the world that she is one energetic young lady by doing gymnastics inside mom while growing and developing in preparation for life.

How fitting that the family's newest addition comes in as the seasons begin to change. She will be welcomed with open and loving arms and will be a marvelous addition to the ever-growing list of grandchildren. Spring is seen as the season of renewal and growth, but Autumn is the season of enormous beauty and hope.

Trees turn bright colors as the chill of the season begins to replace the oppression of the summer. One cannot go more than a mile here in the Midwest without being struck by the glory of nature in transition. Likewise, we, as a family, will also note a magnificent transition with the arrival of this new granddaughter. There is no limit to the love that this little one has engendered. She has already captured the heart of the oldest to the youngest members. She is a reminder that life flows through human existence and will not be denied. She is a manifestation in her own right of God the Creator Himself.

Her parents Josh and Melissa are now counting the unknown hours till their new joy arrives in this world. Time seems to slow to a crawl at this point, but, as we all know, before we realize it, the youngest grandchild will charge through life and the passage of time shall seem to be measured only in seconds. But what glorious seconds they will be.

And so, as we bid farewell to August, and with it the ravages of an inhuman summer, we look forward to the freshness of the Autumn breezes and that of a new life. We enter this season with love in our hearts and hope in our very existence. God is indeed glorious and giving and this is one transition that will be greeted with all the joy of the meaning of new life!

Parent...Child...Child...Parent

2010-08-27T18:28:00.000-07:00

Life holds endless opportunities for growth and understanding. From the moment of our conception, our parents begin teaching and guiding us through the many perils and pitfalls of life. We learn how to relate to others. We learn how to communicate. We learn how to make decisions and see them through. We learn how to embrace the things which are good for us and reject the bad and deal with the consequences of those bad choices we will inevitably make. Most of all, we learn how to love.

My mother is a spry 83 years old but is struggling with a new lifestyle that is difficult for her to accept. When I was a little boy struggling with whatever things I may have struggled with, she was there, listening, allowing me to vent and try to work out things on my own. She would step in only if she saw what I was about to do would end up hurting me worse than I may already be, or she would step aside, knowing full well that whatever she may say or do I was hell bent to do it regardless of the cost.

As we age, we hopefully begin to acquire a sense of wisdom gained mainly by listening to our parents. But it seems like it often takes some time for us to practice such wisdom! Eventually, we usually do employ this quality making life a little easier to bear.

One of the most unique aspects of life I have discovered is the fact that as both we and our parents grow older, our roles begin to shift. Once, they parented us, looking out for us, caring for us, and seeing to it that all our needs were taken care of and that what we did possess allowed us to experience a degree of happiness.

As my mother has aged, there have been times when I have felt that I had become the parent and she had assumed the role of the child. My mother has rarely come to me to talk to me to help her with some problem or issue she was grappling with at the time. That just isn't in her nature. Or so until very recently.

There has been a great deal of gratification in this. But, also, there is a sense of sadness. Gratification, because I am able to draw upon years of life spent finding my way through those very pitfalls that she once helped guide me through. But, sad, too, because I realize that she is now more dependent on me than I am on her on several levels. I welcome this role and thank God for the honor and the opportunity to lend my ear to this very independent and proud woman.

We all find ourselves at various points throughout our lives finding ourselves amidst surprising clarity. It is now more clear to me than ever before why I have experienced the things in life which I have experienced. God has allowed me to undergo trials (many of which were initiated by me), in order to apply the outcome of these trials to those around me who are in need--including my very own mother.

The moral of the story is this. No matter how old you may be, no matter how aggravated you may become with your parents, always find a way to be present to them. It is very clear that as they age they will need you in ways beyond your wildest dreams. But you need them, too. Not so much to protect you from the bumps in life, but to continue to grow within, thus becoming a better human being. Never take them for granted for God has given them to you for very special reasons. Embrace them as such. Hold on to them, and once they are gone, keep alive the memories that you have of them by sharing them with succeeding family generations.

One day, if we all live long enough, we may very well find ourselves in this role reversal. It is not an easy task but it happens because our loving God embraces us with the power and the ability to love someone on levels that He will continually reveal as long as we draw breath. Even after our parents pass from this life, we continue to learn from them because, again, a loving God has given us minds that are capable of traveling far beyond our mortal existence. Take strength in your parents and treasure each moment, each phase that you share with them. Realize that this is the love of God touching your life in a very special way!

An Amazing Story

2010-08-25T18:19:00.000-07:00

My mother continually surprises me at how amazing she can be. On June 30 she fell and broke her hip in five separate pieces. She was forced to lay flat in a hospital bed for three days awaiting levels of coumadin in her bloodstream to lower to the acceptable level so surgery could be successfully performed.

Surgery went well and her recovery began. A week or so after her surgery she was transferred to a nursing home in the nearby town of Peoria about ten miles from her home town. While there, she has gone through weeks of painful physical therapy as well as a drastic change of lifestyle that includes dependency on others for nearly all of her needs.

Over the weeks she has grown stronger and stronger and now, almost two months to the day she had the accident, she is ready to move back to her home town. That is remarkable in itself, but the most remarkable thing is how she arrived at her decision that it would be necessary for her to spend the rest of her life living in a nursing home. This is something that she has been steadfastly against for as long as I can remember.

My mother has never been a particularly religious person. At least she has seldom spoke of her relationship with God. I know she has one, but to what extent I had no idea. She told me on the phone that the other night as she lay in bed, she grew fearful of what was to become of her. She wanted to return to the assisted living facility that she has lived in for the last several years. But that was not possible given her accident and blindness from macular degeneration. She said she turned to God and said to Him, "I lay all my fear at your feet and ask you what to do."

This is an amazing statement from a woman who is not easily given over to her emotions. She is not one to wear her faith on her sleeve. Never has been. However, one of the things she has become involved in while in the nursing home is a Bible Study group in which the members not only study scripture but talk about how their faith effects their lives. She said that she has spoken up in this group about her faith in very personal ways like never before, certainly not to strangers.

God does, indeed, work in mysterious ways! During her stay at the nursing home He has obviously used this time to open her heart to His Word and the Spirit has guided her to learn from this experience. She said she had her answer in about 45 minutes when suddenly a sense of serenity came over her in a way that she had never felt.

Never, in my life, had I ever thought I would hear this kind of personal story from my mother. God's majestic ways happen in the most unlikely of places to some of the most unlikely people. And when He does act, His actions not only effect the person to whom He answers, but often to those around them.

My mother's story has touched me deeply. Her testimony to me came as a complete surprise. Her faith in God and trust in His will has set me to thinking about my own faith and trust in God. God, in His own unique way, has touched both our lives and we are the better for it!

The Mosque

2010-08-16T14:54:00.000-07:00

Over the last few days, a media firestorm and frenzy has erupted over President Obama's comments made at the annual White House dinner celebrating the end of Rama Dan. The President in remarks made during the affair asserted that those of the Islamic faith have every right to build a mosque on private property anywhere they want. The President said this to affirm that the first amendment to the United States Constitution protected all faiths.

The very next day, the President appeared to amend his comments of the evening before when he said to a reporter that he stood by his viewpoint from the previous evening but was not going to make any comment regarding the wisdom of such a move.

Only radicals far to the right are making the assertion that Islam does not have the right to build a mosque only a couple of blocks from ground zero. The most certainly do! The constitution guarantees that. But that is not the argument no matter how much the White House tries to spin it in this direction in order to take the political high ground.

This issue is one of sensitivity. Nearly three thousand people were killed only a stone's throw from the lot where the proposed mosque is to be built. It was the blood of innocent Americans going about their daily business while providing a life for their families. The terrorists behind the attack were Muslims. That does not mean that they represent the entire faith! But it does mean that when most people think of 9/11 they do think of the religion to which the killers belonged.

The mosque should not be built that close to the scene of the greatest attack on American soil by enemies determined to destroy our way of life. But it is not a constitutional issue. It is a matter of sensitivity to those who lost loved ones, family and friends, on that dark September day now nearly nine years in the past.

All clear thinking people know that the Islamic faith is not one composed mainly of blood-thirsty war mongers waiting for just the right time to kill as many Americans as possible. We know that the Koran teaches compassion towards others and that, for the most part, the members of Islam are a peace-loving, peace-seeking people trying to make their way through this life just as we.

Those who wish for the mosque to be built need to put themselves into the shoes of the survivors of the attack on the World Trade Center. The wounds inflicted that day are, for so many, still fresh and bleeding. It takes time to heal when a loved one passes because of natural causes, but when they are slaughtered like innocent lambs, the hurt is much deeper and more penetrating. To build a mosque that close to what amounts to a cemetery for the many victims who were never identified is a slap in the face of those loved ones.

We must peacefully urge those who are planning this project to pause and remember the passing of so many souls on a bright September morning. We do not have to have a mosque only two blocks from Ground Zero in order to prove that we as a culture love and encourage diversity. All the world needs to do is take a close look at us and they will recognize that diversity has been a part of the American fabric throughout its existence. We are not a perfect society, but we are the best one the world has ever known!

Build the mosque elsewhere. Celebrate the diversity of those who were killed in the cold-blooded attacks. But don't listen to those who would turn this into a constitutional argument spurred on by a President governing from poll results. This is not a constitutional issue. It is an issue of sensitivity and it is high time that we become sensitive to our own people!

Another Passing

2010-07-17T21:48:00.000-07:00

Life, as we all know, is a constant flow of acquisitions and losses. I am not speaking here of property. I am speaking, rather, of friends.

At various points in life, we gain friends. They may become very close and foster the feeling that this relationship will, indeed, last throughout the rest of our life. This is a rare occasion, however, since life moves forward, taking us often to places and events that we could never have predicted. Still, while those friendships may burn for a while, most fade with the passage of time. We express our regrets over this but also understand that this is the way of life.

While it is true that most friendships do fade into the background, nearly forgotten, there are those rare friendships that do last a lifetime even if contact with that friend has not taken place in years. And when we hear of the passing of just such a friend, our hearts are saddened and our spirits a little emptier because this person meant something to us even if it was years ago since we last saw them.

This is just the case with a one time friend of mine from years ago. Recently, on July 9, Bill Finn, one of the finest people I have had the honor to know, passed from this world after a battle with lung cancer. Bill became my friend many, many years ago when both of us worked for Eagle Foods in Pekin, Illinois. He was the store's assistant manager and I was just one of the crew.

One day, completely out of the blue, Bill asked me to join him at his house for a beer and an evening of conversation and fun. I gladly accepted and that evening proved to be the start of a long-lasting friendship. Our families shared so many things with each other. Birthdays were celebrated together. Anniversaries were observed. Holidays were gleefully and joyfully entered in upon. The birth of my children were ushered in, often with the help of Bill and his wife Judy.

We shared deep sadness as well as was illustrated when Bill's only son Billy succumbed to an illness when Billy was only eighteen years old. There was nothing that I could say. I only could be present for them, lending my support for them as best I could.

Now, after a long and fulfilling life my friend Bill is gone. I have not seen him in years, still, when I learned of his death, my heart sank and my thoughts immediately turned to his wife and three daughters. Bill reveled in family life. The passing of his son those many years ago was the hardest thing, I think, that he ever had to endure. His girls were like three sparkling gems in his crown and as they grew, Bill became more and more proud.

But then the course of our lives took us in different directions and, in spite of our desires, we lost track of one another. Bill remained enmeshed in his family while I wandered the countryside in search of some allusively false life that I imagined must be out there.

When the news of his passing reached me, I was immediately taken back in my memory to the night before my twins were born. Since learning that we were having twins, we had busied ourselves in gathering together two of everything. The only thing we had yet to do was to assemble the second baby bed.

Now, as anyone who has had a baby knows, putting together a baby bed is similar to trying to understand the theory of relativity without knowing how to read. The instructions seem to have been written in some form of ancient Greek and the illustrations accompanying said instructions apparently were samples of the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt.

Bill was far handier at such things than I and because he and Judy had helped us frequently throughout the ordeal known as pregnancy, I asked him to help me put together this one last piece of furniture necessary for a new born.

It was mid-August and the heat and humidity were at typical Midwestern levels. Before we began, we enjoyed a beer in an attempt to relax knowing the great struggle that lay ahead. Once the beer had been consumed, we launched ourselves into the construction of the bed. A quick glance at the directions and we knew that we must have another beer. Those directions could only be understood with the aid of alcohol! To make a long story short, we finished the crib late in the evening, by that time well under the influence. How that crib was ever assembled without killing its precious cargo is beyond for me. All I know is that it lasted for years.

All through the construction phase, Bill was his typical self. Wherever Bill Finn was, laughter accompanied. He had an easy way about him and making people laugh at his ridiculous statements or jokes was a true gift of his. That night, the night before the birth of my firstborn sons, Bill made me relax about what was soon to happen. I do not remember anything that he said that evening but in my mind's eye I can still picture him puffing away at his ever-present cigarette and bottle of Miller High Life.

What this proved about Bill is that he was never afraid of giving of himself. He was a generous man beyond any one's wildest imaginations. Generous with his time. Generous with his talent. And generous with the love he had of people.

Bill will be sorely missed by Judy and his three girls who are all now adults. He will also be deeply missed by the seemingly innumerable number of people who called him friend. It is hard to understand why he had to go so early, but we are satisfied that he lived life to the fullest. He never did anything half way. His courage was great and his values were firmly embedded in the foundation of Midwestern culture.

Bill's departure has touched me deeply. I was blessed to have such a friend and I will carry him in my heart for the rest of my life.

The Face of Christ

2010-07-13T19:18:00.000-07:00

I have an interesting job. I am able to visit with people and help them keep their home safe and protected. It also affords the opportunity to see how others live. Because of it, I have been privy to great wealth and have also been exposed to grinding poverty. I have visited the middle class who lives in a similar manner as do I and I have seen how "the other half lives."

Within the last week I have had the opportunity to visit a mansion that measured 10,000 square feet. I was greeted at the door by the woman of the house, casually dressed and obviously comfortable with her surroundings. She was warm and friendly and very conversational. It was a palace when compared to my lifestyle. Its floor consisted of highly polished marble and the main staircase was a work of art, hand carved and massive. There were more rooms than I could count and there were two garages both of which were air conditioned. The occupants of this magnificent home were just as kind and welcoming as anyone could be. There was no sense that they felt themselves members of the privileged class.

Only a few days later, I was called to an inner city home on a very hot and humid July morning. The contrast between the two homes could not have been greater. Greeting me at the front door was an elderly woman of 92. She looked ragged and worn. She welcomed me to her home, a once magnificent home that was well over 100 years old. In its day, this home must have been every bit as much a showcase as was the aforementioned palace. But the years had not been kind to this building. Years of poverty had taken its toll. It was run down, worn out, very much as its occupant appeared. I'm not sure if this home had ever had the chance to be cooled and comforted by air conditioning. The temperature inside this structure on this oppressively warm morning was well into the 80's.

The owner of the worn out building shuffled from room to room, describing as she went what kind of help she needed. I could not help but allow my imagination roam to days gone by when this house enjoyed all its grandeur. Now, there was nothing but clutter and dirt. There was an unpleasant odor of rancid cooking grease everywhere. The sunlight streamed through windows that had there last washing apparently years ago. My heart went out to the elderly woman who, despite her surroundings, managed, somehow, to keep her dignity.

Part of me wanted to run from the run-down home because it was an unpleasant experience. In contrast, I would have found it very easy to take up residence in one of the palace's air conditioned garages! The sad thing is that the physical distance between these two old homes is no more than three or four miles. However, the lifestyles that the residents of each domicile exist in are light years apart.

God has given me this opportunity to realize that we can find the face of Christ in both places. It is very easy to see and experience it in the palace. There is a level of comfort there that is undeniable and very attractive. On the other hand, just across town, in the dreary home in which the elderly woman survived, comfort was the least of concerns. Survival was the most important thing. But here, too, is the face of the Savior. It was easy to spot in the lap of luxury. But it was very difficult to find in the squalor of the run-down home.

Admittedly, I was at first repulsed by what I found at the elderly woman's home. I wanted to make quick work of my visit and be out of there as fast as possible. It was hard to look into those aging eyes, realizing only partially, what it must be like to be her. What must it be like to struggle so desperately from day to day just to survive? And on these extraordinarily hot summer days, how, I wondered, did she ever make it through one day?

As time went on during my visit to the ninety year old's home, I began to look past the abject poverty that now enveloped me. And to my surprise, I found the face of Christ amidst the filth and desperation that were a part of the home as much as the highly polished marble floor was of the palace. I realized that through both these experiences God had led me to experience His Son in very different settings. I saw the dignity of Christ in the palace, His glory and strength symbolized by this home's stature and polish. In the old, nearly falling down home, I experienced the face of Christ in the poverty of the moment. Here was a representative of Mother Theresa's poor of Calcutta. Here was the face of Christ on the Cross, impoverished, totally without possession, waiting for me to embrace Him.

It would have been easy to embrace the dignified Christ and very important that I do so. Just because someone is wealthy does not mean that they deserve my scorn or suspicion either out of jealousy or envy. It was not easy, however, to embrace the face of Christ in the home where poverty resided.

These incidents have allowed me to examine my faith more deeply. I talk a good game, but where is my faith at this point in reality. Is my faith one of action or just hollow words? Do I practice Jesus' reminder to us that whatever we do to the least of his brothers and sisters we do to Him? And if I do practice that, to what degree?

We must all walk our own path and cooperate with the Holy Spirit in the development and growth of our faith. I feel very privileged to have had these experiences because they are signs of God's love for me as unworthy as I am of it.

Think of times in your life when you had concrete reality present itself in such a way as to prompt an inner search for just how faithful you are and how committed you are to embracing Christ through all of humanity. It is a courageous act, indeed, not entered in upon lightly. I do not know where these experiences will lead me and the faith I have been given as a gift by our Father, but I do know that, once again, He has shown me the depth of His love.

Summer In My Mind

2010-07-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me know that one of the things I am least fond of is the season of summer. The high levels of humidity added to the endless heat spells make me wish for Fall and beyond with an even greater longing every year. But I must admit there are a few things about summer that I really do enjoy.

Summer brings back fond memories for me as a kid because I remember waiting on the front steps of the home I grew up in on Summer Street in Pekin for my mom to come home. Even on those front steps I could smell the aroma of grandma's home cooked supper. There was always a meat and potato dish usually accompanied by fresh sweet corn, green beans, or any other freshly made dish from the easily acquired fresh produce from the farms in the area.

Mom worked for a local insurance company and for years got off at 4:30 Monday through Friday. Her arrival at home between 4:40 and 4:45 was very predictable. Occasionally, she would have an errand to run after work and that would push back her arrival time somewhat, but normally, she arrived on time. Why was I so anxious to have her home?

Every evening during the summer months, with the arrival of my mother, my grandmother, grandfather, mom and I would sit down to grandma's carefully prepared supper. That time of the day holds some of the fondest memories that I have of my childhood. Grandpa would always inquire after my mom's day. Grandma spent her time bouncing from the supper table to the counter serving everyone in the room. The meal started with the usual grace before meals and then we dug in. I think I was almost always the first one done because of what was ahead for the evening.

Weather permitting, every summer weekday evening, once supper was finished, the dishes washed and enough time had passed, my mother and I would don our swim suits, grab a towel, and head for the local pool. For about two and a half hours each evening I swam like a fish. I dove off the boards that were in the pool, a fixture banned from most public pools these days because of the potential dangers they represented. I loved swimming the width of the pool while under water. I vividly remember the setting sun and the changing colors of the summer evening sky as day lazily rolled into night. It was an idyllic time.

Then there are the sounds of summer that had a melody all their own. Crickets chirping wildly as evening came on accompanied our nights on the front porch. We had a screened in porch and so could sit in the cool of the evening (relatively cool!) bug free. Grandpa sat in "his" chair at one end of the porch, cigar in hand puffing away while talking about the "old days" on the farm when he was a kid. Grandma would soon join us and just sit and relax, enjoying what must have been her first break of the day. Mom would also be there, sitting on the porch swing, slowly seining to and fro listening to my grandpa spin his yarns. Night came softly in those days as lightning bugs danced across the lawn. An occasional car would travel up the brick paved street making such a racket that I am sure these days would be banned by the EPA due to excessive noise.

But that was a sound in those days that brought comfort and security to a little boy's life. I often return to those days in my memory to touch base with the simpler times of my life. It was a time of family and, once in a while a neighbor would drop by to add to the flavor of the evening. Neighbors were neighbors back then, not just someone who lived near you, but someone who was like a part of your family. They watched out for you and you watched out for them.

The evening skies from that front porch dazzled my imagination. Stars seemed to shine a little more brightly back then. These were the days when all the world looked to the evening sky with increasing wonder because the Soviet Union and United States had just begun what was being called the space race. Shortly after the launch of Sputnik in the fall of 1957, the neighborhood would gather on the darkened street corner, heads firmly aimed at the sky, in an attempt to see that little point of light the Russians had only recently launched soar over our little Midwestern town. It only took a few short minutes to cross from one horizon to another, but it filled everyone with sheer excitement and, in many cases fear. After all, it was the Russians who had first reached space successfully.

Those summer evenings long ago passed into my personal history. But they are the fond part of the season that I find mainly objectionable. We didn't go camping. We didn't swim in rivers and lakes. Our simple pleasures came in the local pool, and warm summer nights spent as a family in the familiar and comforting aroma of my grandpa's cigar. Laughter and memories punctuated those evenings with the sweetness of life that a child should experience. They were marvelous times now receding into the past with ever increasing speed, but they shall always live for me in my memory. And while we had no air conditioning and most of those warm summer nights were spent trying to find the coolest part of the sheet so you could sleep reasonably well, that, somehow, seems unimportant.

What is important that those summers on Summer Street gave me the life of a family and its memories to comfort me and bolster me as I journey along in life. I'll never forget the sweet scent of grandpa's old cigar which today I might actually find offensive! I'll never forget the ride to the pool with my mother and, often, a neighbor kid or two along for the fun. And I will certainly never forget my grandmother and her home cooked suppers and the gentleness and tenderness that went into their preparation. When I remember summer in this context, the season isn't so bad after all!

A Bad Call

2010-07-01T18:05:00.000-07:00

One of the worst calls you can get when you have an eighty-three year old parent is that they have fallen and broken a hip. The hip is so important and bears so much weight that any break in it at any age is dangerous. But for someone who is elderly, it is even morso.

I received this kind of call this week. My mother had gotten up in the middle of the night (as she often does) and went into her living room to sit in her recliner. She reached for the familiar chair and, still groggy from sleep, went to sit down. Unfortunately, she missed the chair altogether and hit the floor squarely with her left hip. Immediately she knew that she had broken it. The pain was immense as she lay helplessly on the floor, struggling to move toward the phone.

Unable to do so, she began shouting for help in hopes that someone would be passing in the hallway and come to her aid. About thirty minutes passed when one of the aids making her usual rounds walked past my mother's apartment and heard her calls for help. She entered the home and found my mother on the floor in the most intense pain she had every experienced.

She was rushed to the hospital where x-rays confirmed that her hip had, indeed, been broken. She was admitted to the hospital where her condition was stabilized and plans for surgery began forming. However, there is one complication. Because of a massive heart attack she suffered four years ago, my mother is on a daily regimen of the drug coumadin, a potent blood thinner designed to prevent blood clots from blocking her cardiac arteries. If surgery were to be performed too early she would bleed uncontrollably and could very likely die. The task at hand for the medical personnel, then, is to gradually and safely reduce the levels of coumadin to an acceptable threshold while maintain the thinning properties that guard her heart.

Doctors tells us that the levels will reach acceptable norms for surgery on Friday at which time the surgeon will repair her hip. But that is just the start of things. She will face a long and difficult recovery through physical therapy.

My mother is a strong woman both physically and psychologically. She has been through much in her long and wonderful life. She has faced enormous personal challenges and medical emergencies with a sense of courage, dignity, and determination. This, however, is the most difficult mountain she has had to climb.

My mother is staunchly independent and it took a lot for her to move into an assisted care facility because of the loss of a great deal of that independence. Now, because of the injury to her hip, she faces losing what is left of her independence. Nothing is certain and I am certainly not saying that she will be permanently disabled as a result of this unfortunate accident. We have seen her come through other difficult moments in life that have both surprised and amazed us. But this is different. She is much older and weaker now. However, she has always be iron willed.

The difficult days ahead will be filled with worry, anxiety, and concern. They will be long days. And, yet, my mother once again stands before us as a teacher. I am certain that, regardless of the outcome of surgery and resulting prognosis, she will teach us what it is like to face life's trials with dignity and courage. May we remember this above all else as she enters this time of her life.

"You Can't Handle the Truth!

2010-06-22T14:45:00.000-07:00

In the 1990's, Rob Reiner directed a good movie called "A Few Good Men." The film depicted the investigation of a young private's death at Gitmo in Cuba and the resulting court martial. Near the end of the film as the story reached its climax, the main villain of the piece played so well by Jack Nicholson, uttered a line that has become a part of the lexicon. When pressed by the character portrayed by Tom Cruise for the truth, Nicholson's character shouted, "You can't handle the truth!" This line reminds me of the top news story that has actually managed to bump the BP oil spill from the lead story momentarily.

While it is very true that no one in the military should ever level criticism of the kind that General Stanley McCrystal did toward the Obama administration, maybe we should take a moment in the midst of all the hysteria and listen to what the general has to say.

McCrystal should have never revealed his criticisms to a Rolling Stone reporter. He should have voiced those criticisms and concerns through the chain of command. The military is absolutely dependent on strict adherence to discipline. Without it, combat would be more of a nightmare than it already is. No general has the right to go public with his criticism of the Commander in Chief regardless of the validity of his concerns. However, maybe we should give an ear to the general and consider his complaints.

General McCrystal has served on the front line for a very long time and, because of this, knows firsthand what the every day troops must endure. He also knows in great detail what it is like to deal with the Obama administration. He sees the flaws in his leaders and is rightly concerned about how those flaws will effect the lives of the troops in the field.

I have to wonder why the administration, elected on a platform of being more open and honest with he American people, has become so defensive in this matter. Shouldn't they listen to the general a little more carefully to learn from their mistakes so that they can improve the lines of communication and command? We teach our children to learn from their mistakes. Is it really true that the President of the United States is above all that and couldn't possibly learn from his errors.

We had the absurdity of George W. Bush not being able to think of one mistake that he made when he was pressed by a reporter. Remember the outcry then? Now, with Barack Obama at the helm, are we to believe that the president is incapable of making a mistake as well. Maybe he was not prepared to meet with the general during that first meeting as McCrystal claims? Where is the crime in this? Haven't we all been in situations where we have found ourselves unprepared to take on a new and important task? Granted, the task of the president in these matters is far above what most of us will encounter. But the point is still there.

I do think that General McCrystal does need to be disciplined for his apparent insubordination. But I also think we need to listen to him to see where we can do better. I think it is the Obama administration's duty to see to it that they learn from the incidents outlined by the general and correct the situations the general reports. Or is it, Mr. President, that, "You can't handle the truth"?

Father's Day 2010

2010-06-19T13:26:00.000-07:00

With June comes the carefree days of summer. Nights of endless fun for the kids as fireflies dart about the yard, children in pursuit with jars in hopes of capturing that lightning in a bottle. The first official day of summer arrives towards the end of the month and with it warm and humid temperatures set in across the great Midwest. One other date of note is that of Father's Day. Each year, just as we do for mom, we set aside a special day to honor dad.

This year, however, for the family that I belong to, Father's Day will be much different. My own father was not much of a father. He barely acknowledged my existence and that provided me with many a lonely Father's Day throughout the years. But later in life, I was blessed to have a man come into my life who became as much a father to me as any other man had in my life. He was my father-in-law, Lloyd Smith.

Those of you who read my blogs on a regular basis know that Lloyd passed from this world in the beginning of April after a short struggle for life. You know how much I admired him and cared for him. The blogs I published during his illness in the hospital detailed his last days and the reaction that the family had to those long days of struggle and hopes. Through my writing during that time it is my hope that you came to know something of the man who was my father-in-law. Now, I would like to tell you how deeply he effected my life and why, in some ways, I came to think of him as my father.

Lloyd was first and foremost a very kind and gentle man. That doesn't mean that he didn't know how to assert himself or take care of his family. But it does mean that there was truly not one mean bone in his body. He was a gentleman through and through.

His ways at times proved to be a bit eccentric, but who could not have that said about them in one respect or another? He had a penchant for organizing things, lining them all up in a row so that he could have an orderly approach to life. He was generous to a fault giving freely to his family whether at Christmas or birthdays. I always had the feeling that he would have given you the shirt off his back if he truly thought that you could somehow benefit from it.

I first met Lloyd a number of years ago. He wasn't a particularly large man, but his stature isn't what struck me upon our first meeting. It may sound odd, but the first thing I noticed about Lloyd Smith was the size of his hands. They were large, strong and, at the same time, comforting. They were the hands of a man who was not afraid of physical labor. They were the hands that doled out discipline to an erring child as well as hands that comforted the same child when she or he may have fallen and skinned their knee.

While all of these qualities were true, the thing that struck me most deeply about his hands was that they were the hands of a man of prayer. I could easily picture a rosary entwined around his fingers as he quietly prayed each night in his room. I saw them folded in a darkened chapel as he sat before the Blessed Sacrament making a Holy Hour. a practice that he engaged upon up till the time he entered the hospital in March of this year. They were the hands of a man devoted to God and his Catholic faith. They were hands that gave praise and thanksgiving to God for his family and his life. They were hands that extended comfort to those who had lost loved ones and in that action, became the hands of Christ.

Lloyd and I spent many of the holidays and birthdays that marks the life of a family talking about all sorts of things.  I was honored and thrilled that he often sought me out just to sit and talk away the time. We often spoke of religion, the Catholic Church, politics, and the family. He loved to tease anyone, but most especially my wife Joan with straight faced stories that, once you thought about them you knew were not true, but upon the first hearing you really weren't quite sure about that. He would say something preposterous to Joan, wait for the expression on her face telling him that she bought the gag, and then would just smile from ear to ear. Joan would, of course, fake indignation and all would laugh heartily and move on.

Father's Day was a special day because Lloyd was so loved by his family. It wasn't a huge event. Just the family getting together for a light meal and presentation of gifts for the man of the hour. But mostly it was time to spend with him. And he loved having his family around him. Each of his sons and daughters would present him with a gift and he would tear into it like a kid on Christmas and oohed and ahhhed in all the right places.  He always had a special word or two with his grandchildren so that they knew that their grandpa thought they were someone special. He reveled in watching his young great-grandchildren run off their youthful energy and the family swirled around in celebration. Father's Day was always very special. But this year will be different.

There will not be the familiar gathering at the family home to honor dad on his day.  There will, instead, be poignant memories of the last Father's Day in 2009 when none of us realized that in one short year the beloved patriarch of the family would no longer be with us. He was so vibrant that day, drinking in all the attention and loving each moment of it. There will be an emptiness in the heart as the reality of his passing becomes more and more tangible with the passage of time.    Many of the pictures taken that day will be viewed once again and maybe even a small tear will trickle down the cheek as the memories of Lloyd on his special day one year ago come rushing back. There will be sadness. But don't feel too sorry for any of us.

This Father's Day, the first without our beloved dad, will, for me, be a day of quiet remembrances of a man who touched my life deeply and profoundly. It will be a day when his absence strikes the hardest since his passing but it will also be a day when, after looking at the picture of the top of this blog, a big smile will cross my face as the warmth of this man bubbles up from my heart.

Happy Father's Day, Lloyd! We surely miss you but know that we have been blessed by all those years when we celebrated your special day together. Thank you, especially, for allowing me into your heart and for me to feel as though you were the "dad" that I never had!

Milepost

2010-06-05T09:34:00.000-07:00

In the life of every family there are mileposts along the way to mark the special occasions that grace life. This past week, the King family quietly noted one of these mileposts without much fanfare but that does not mean it was not something on our minds.

My son, Josh, and my daughter-in-law, Melissa, observed their tenth wedding anniversary. Ten years! It does not seem possible that ten years could have gone so quickly. Their union has brought great joy into the life of a proud father who has had the privilege to share many of those years with this most special couple.

Along the way, I have seen my son blossom into a man who is a man in every sense of that word. He is thoughtful, kind, resourceful, energetic, dedicated, and so devoted to his family. He conducts his life with integrity and dignity that defines what manhood should be. He has embraced the love of his life with all of his energy and being and his pledge of lifelong devotion will, no doubt, be filled with many years of a life together.

As I have gotten to know my daughter-in-law, I have come to see her as a very special lady with gifts untold. She loves Josh with every fiber of her being. When they are together, she lights up. When he cracks one of his dry jokes, her face beams with great laughter. You can see that with Melissa in his life, Josh is completed as a human being and her life is complete with him. She is a genius when it comes time to save money for the family yet heaps her gifts of natural motherhood on her family without reserve.

During these ten years, we have welcomed two new Kings into the world.

There is Aliyah. Aliyah is filled with the energy and excitement that you would expect from any seven year old. She loves to do nothing more than run and play in the summertime sun. She lives for the pool and long walks with mom and dad. Her passion is reading and will spend quiet hours devouring books and any other reading material that may be at hand. She loves to teach her little sister how to read and delights in their time together. She is the spitting image of her father and possesses the wit of her mother. She, too, loves without reserve and gives her heart totally to all.

Then we have Keirah. Keirah is a gentle soul. Content to play alone or with big sister Aliyah, she is sweetness defined. Her mind is sharp and is a sponge for detail. She loves the summer too, and lives for those times when pool season comes along. She bears a striking resemblance to her maternal grandmother and has an easy smile and loving way that touches the heart so deeply. Keirah is a sensitive soul so that at times she bursts into tears for no apparent reason only to sport her captivating smile moments later.

And then we have the unknown King waiting in the wings for a scheduled appearance in mid-September. What will this little one bring to our lives as the union of my son and his wonderful wife takes on yet another dimension? It will be an adventure I am sure!

Lastly, I want to thank Josh and Melissa for gracing our lives with theirs. We have all grown together and become a family. The time that we have together is not nearly enough because of the distance between us. But that is a blessing in itself because it makes the time we have together even more special, knowing that is not commonplace. Our pride and love for you both knows no bounds and we couldn't be happier for the both of you.

May God grant you many more decades together and may he continue to bless our family with the love and grace that he has shown in these last ten years.

Happy Anniversary!

A Very Special Day for a Very Special Young Lady

2010-05-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

There are few turning points in life that linger longer than that of high school graduation. It is a rite of passage in our society, one that travels with us in our memories for years to come. It is a milestone that truly opens the door to adulthood as the future awaits.

Becca Watkins, a very bright young lady and my niece by marriage, strolled through that door today as she celebrated her graduation from high school. Becca is a remarkable young woman. She is conscientious, intelligent, giving, enthusiastic, and filled with a love of life that propels her forward with a special kind of joy.

I have only known Becca for a relatively short amount of time, but in that time I have had the pleasure of witnessing the evolution of a girl into a young woman, ready to face the new challenges of college and adulthood with a package of unique gifts and talents. Next fall she will be off to college to study education in order to become a teacher one day. This seems to be a perfect fit for this very bright young lady.

I have seen her with children and she has a talent that is surely from God. She reaches them through communicating her sincere care and concern for them. She is not ashamed to become like them whether playing with them on a swing set or showing them something from a book. She has a soft, sentimental heart that extends to her family in a very special way.

Recently, Becca lost her paternal grandfather. I witnessed her young heart wounded by this turn of events. She was close to her grandpa. She faced his illness with strength and dignity, visiting him as often as she could, her heart breaking every time she saw him slipping away. Yet, she persevered. It was a difficult loss for her, but through it all, I saw a young woman who did not run from the pain of the loss of a loved one, but faced the hurt with her head held high and her heart in prayer.

Now Becca takes her place in the world of collegiate academics. A new world and new challenges lay before her. I am sure she will reach her goal and become a teacher who will, for many years to come, touch the hearts of her students in ways that will last their lifetimes.

It has been my privilege to be a small part of Becca's life. She is a very special young woman and will accomplish much. Her parents can been quite proud of a daughter who has adopted their values and applied them to her life in a unique and moving way.

I wish you the best, Becca, and may the joy of this graduation day be the launching pad of untold joys and happiness in the future. Your future students will most certainly benefit from having known you and that walk across the stage to accept your diploma today is only the first step into an exciting future that I look forward to being a part of!

Congratulations Becca!

Memorial Day 2010

2010-05-29T07:46:00.000-07:00

This is the first holiday weekend of summer! Picnics have been planned. Millions of people are traveling hundreds of miles to visit family and friends. The local pools are about to throw open their doors for the hot weather season. The time most Americans have been waiting for, endless days of warm sunshine, has arrived.

In the midst of this celebration of the welcoming back of summer, we cannot forget to pause this weekend and remember our fallen dead, those who have given their last full measure of devotion so that we may welcome summer in our own way, in freedom and peace.

The original Memorial Day was set aside to honor the fallen dead of the bloodiest American conflict, the Civil War. Adjutant General John A. Logan, commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, an organization of Union Civil War veterans, ordered in a proclamation that, "The 30th day of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies lie in every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land." Thus began the observance of what we now call Memorial Day.

In the south, citizens gathered in cemeteries to place flowers and wreaths on the graves of their fallen heroes to honor their memory on what they called Decoration Day. The southern commemoration was actually held separately from the northern observance until after WWI when congress declared that the entire nation should come together to honor all the nation's war dead on one day.

This weekend, we must remember that while we have peace in the land here at home, a brutal war is still being waged on the deserts of Afghanistan. Thousands of troops are keeping watch over a tentative peace in Iraq as that country rebuilds. On the Korean peninsula, thousands of American troops watch on as North Korea rattles it's saber, threatening war on the South. And in countless outposts throughout the world, young American men and women serve their country, ensuring that peace is the norm rather than the exception.

Memorial Day is a somber occasion. It is also a sacred occasion because we come together to honor all who have so nobly served. We celebrate their memories with moments of silence out of respect for the lives they lived and secured for us the freedom to live life as we see fit. We honor them for their self-sacrifice, leaving family and friends to go into the world to defend those who are too weak to fend for themselves. We remember the past and are stirred by their stories of heroic bravery in the face of brutality. We look to the present to see the ever present danger they encounter as new enemies threaten our way of life. And because so many gave that last full measure of devotion, we can look to the future with hope in our hearts that all will be well because there were countless Americans who came forward to fight for freedom wherever freedom had come under attack.

Enjoy the weekend. Get your fill of hot dogs, hamburgers, brats, steaks, and tall cold glasses of lemonade, but do not fail to honor in your own way those who have died so that these weekend celebrations may continue into the future. We live in uncertain times but one thing is certain. America has always been the vanguard of freedom. Thank you to all of you who have served your country! And may God bless those who did give "their last full measure of devotion."

Changes

2010-05-29T07:11:00.000-07:00

Life consists of one change after another. Change provides the flow of a life. It also provides the challenges that we often meet along our way.

The view out our front door has always been refreshing and quite soothing. It was a wooded area with many trees and shrubs insulating us against the noises of modern urban life. The woods have been home to deer, turkeys, frogs, and countless species of birds. It is like living in the middle of a wild-life refuge. It is not unusual for us to look out our window on any given day and spot several deer. We often have the surprise and pleasure of seeing wild turkeys grace our bird feeding area.

However, in the last few weeks, the "progress" of modern life has literally changed the landscape!

We live off a very busy road that carries thousands of cars and trucks per day. It is a two lane street that has long since outlived its usefulness as traffic is bumper-to-bumper during every rush hour. As a result, the state of Missouri has decided to re-route the road and, at the same time, widen the thoroughfare. The new route the road will be taking brings it straight through our little slice of nature.

A few weeks ago, massive road building equipment entered the property and promptly began plowing through the wooded area. Trees, which have stood for decades, came tumbling down with little effort from the powerful machinery. Land which had been untouched by human hand for years, was plowed under and turned over. Great scars in the earth opened up and where there was once the lush green of the woods there is now the dried brown of the newly exposed earth. The landscape has been forever changed.

It is sad to see these few remaining vestiges of nature within an urban setting disappearing. One of the things that drew us to our home was the fact that it had such a peaceful feeling to it. Now, before we know it, a four lane highway, complete with bustling noisy traffic, will be racing not more than 200 yards from our front door. Twelve foot high sound suppression walls will be erected to hide the noise where once stood graceful, majestic trees of an undetermined age. Horns and the sounds of metal grinding against metal as vehicles collide will replace the morning songs of the countless songbirds that once called this area home.

The photos above clearly illustrate what is happening to our neighborhood. The top picture is a photo of what the view out our front door once was. The bottom picture is as it appears now. What a difference!

For most, the change that is coming will be a welcome change. Travel times using the busy highway will be greatly diminished. The road will be far safer than the current one. These are all positive developments. But for us, the residents who once enjoyed nature in a very unique way just outside our front door, there is a sadness at the passing what was once an oasis of nature amidst the urban sprawl. That's progress!

A Death In A Small Town

2010-05-06T14:03:00.000-07:00

Before I came to live in the metropolitan area of St. Louis, I lived in a small town in central Illinois. It is situated amidst expansive corn and bean fields with sweeping vistas of the prairie land in every direction. It is a peaceful place populated with hard working families that produces a sense of family among the residents. Because of this atmosphere, whenever a death occurs, the community experiences the loss. But when the deceased is someone very young, the loss is even more greatly felt.

Such is the sad case that began to unfold in the early morning hours of May 5. A young nineteen year old girl driving her car on a rural highway ran into the rear end of a car ahead of her and both cars went careening into the path of an oncoming semi. The massive truck slammed into both vehicles. When it was all over, the truck drive was uninjured, the driver of the car that the other car hit received only minor injuries, but the driver of the car that hit the back end of the other car was critically injured. She had to be airlifted to a hospital in a larger nearby city. There was little hope, apparently, from the beginning that she would survive. A little earlier today, May 6, she succumbed to her horrible injuries. She was only 19.

Word of her death spread instantaneously throughout the small town. A pall of sadness has settled in over the little community. Everyone in the town obviously feels a sense of loss that is personal even if they never met the young victim. In a small town, this kind of loss is personal.

It has always been the case in small towns that everyone knows everyone else. Or at least that's the perception. There is a level of care and kindness that is palpable when compared to bigger cities. It is a place in which the term neighbor has not lost its true meaning. Everyone is connected in some way or another. And so when a younger member of the community dies tragically, all pause for a moment to understand that it was one of their own who died and that they probably know someone who is either related to the deceased or at least knows them.

This is the heart of America. The spirit of America which seems, in so many communities, to be dead, is alive and well in this small Midwestern town. And so it is today. The town is united in sadness over the passing of one of its youngest citizens. Prayers are being offered for the family and food is being prepared to be delivered to the grieving family's home to help them through the next few horrible days.

The memory of the young girl will be first and foremost on the citizenry's mind. Many who never knew her will attend her funeral. All will weep each in their own way. The sadness will effect everyone in as many different ways as there are citizens. The city will be gripped in the story of this promising young lady's death. And in days to come, the resiliency of the citizens of Small Town America will begin to manifest itself. Life will resume its normal pace but the young lady who died as the result of the tragic accident on a lonely rural highway will linger. People will comfort one another and life will move on with the town a little more closely knit.

Life is experienced a little more differently in a small town. And so is death. There is the stabbing sting of the death and the loss of a young person that permeates each household. But there also is the comfort of neighbor reaching out to neighbor. There is the assurance that this, too, shall pass. And there is the assurance to the family of the victim that they shall not pass through this time alone. A whole community composed mainly of strangers will stand arm-in-arm behind them ready to give comfort and aid to them. While the wound of the loss is deep, that wound will heal because of the balm that is the Small Town.

I Have Seen Your Tears

2010-04-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

In this world that tends to be very cold, we can find quick comfort in the revelation God granted the prophet Isaiah: "I have seen your tears." (Is 38: 5) Our hearts cry out to our God morning and night. We need Him to navigate through the complexities of life. Without Him we are nothing and with Him we have everything we will ever need.

In moments of sadness whether we are mourning the loss of a loved one or undergoing some challenge that has struck us to the depths of our heart, we can be assured that God our Heavenly Father has, indeed, seen our tears. We are assured by His very Son, Jesus Christ, that we will be helped. "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted." (Mt 5: 4) But the question at this point must be, who will do the comforting?

It is our responsibility to become comforters at any given moment. If we do not, then the world will become even colder than it already is for someone who is undergoing a challenge at the moment. It is an amazing feeling to become an instrument of God. It is a humbling experience that elevates the soul to unbelievable heights.

Once, many years ago, I was humbled to unwittingly become just such an instrument. It all came in an unlikely place. In those days I worked the late shift and traveled to work using mass transit. There was about an hour where I had to wait for the next bus to the office. It happened to be over the noon hour and my time was spent in the airport where my connections occurred.

The little chapel in the airport held Mass every day at noon. I decided it would be a great opportunity to attend Mass daily. One day, as I awaited the start of Mass, a very well-dressed young woman, apparently in her late twenties or early thirties, entered the chapel and sat not two or three seats from me. As I knelt in silent prayer, I became aware of a soft sobbing coming from the direction of the young lady. At first, I thought it was my imagination. But as the moments passed, I realized that the sobbing was coming from the young woman to my left.

I didn't want to look so as to avoid embarrassment but I could not help myself as her crying grew louder and more painful with each tick of the clock. It was just a few minutes before Mass began and the chapel had begun to fill. Those entering could not help but hear her since the both of us were in the back row. They stared, trying to figure out what was going on. Finally, I decided that I must do something to see if I couldn't help her in some way.

I reached out to her and touched her on her shoulder. She lifted her head from her hands, revealing a face marked with agony and stained with tears. I asked her if there was something that I could do for her. To my amazement, she moved to my side and put her head on my shoulder and began weeping even more loudly. I was stunned, not expecting a reaction such at this.

The priest and deacon who were preparing for Mass noticed the commotion. They came to the back of the chapel to see what the matter was. I was as puzzled as they were. They motioned to me to bring her to the sacristy, a small room no bigger than a large closet, so she could have some privacy and compose herself. I gently led her to the little room and closed the door as the Mass began.

She sat on a small stool in the middle of the room and I pulled up the only chair available. I looked into her tear-filled eyes and asked her what was wrong.

"I've sinned a terrible sin," she managed to say, chocking back the emotion.

"Tell me about it" I said, not really knowing what to do.

She began to explain that she had recently broken up her relationship with her boyfriend who she had been with for a number of years. The split occurred because she found herself pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. The boyfriend would have nothing to do with this notion and apparently demanded that she have an abortion. She strongly resisted the notion because she felt that abortion was wrong. He began to pressure her and kept increasing the pressure until she finally succumbed to his demands and had the abortion. She fully expected things to be fine after the procedure. That proved not to be the case.

Shortly after the abortion, the boyfriend declared to her that he had found someone else and that he was leaving her. Her tears that day were due to the abortion and not the boyfriend for she realized that when the boyfriend left her, he did not care for her and certainly did not care for the unborn child that had been disposed of.

For the next fifteen minutes we spoke of what had happened. I listened more than anything else, not really knowing what to say. As time passed, her composure returned. As she spoke, her voice became stronger and she began to smile a little. She thanked me for listening and helping her. I assured her of God's love for her and told her that none of us is free from something that we deeply regret. With that, she rose from her stool, turned toward the door, looked at me one last time, and thanked me for being so understanding. Then she left and disappeared into the crowded corridor of the airport.

I could not believe what had just happened. It was completely out of the blue. I was humbled that God had chosen me in that moment to be an instrument of His kindness and compassion. In that moment, I was inspired to listen to this woman who was overcome with a sense of guilt where her abortion was concerned. I have no idea why I was chosen for this role, but what I learned from it has filled me with awe since that day.

Comfort does not come out of thin air! God made us as social beings. We have an innate need to reach out to others, to touch their lives at specific times during their lives. It is a need that resides in the very core of our being. Too often, however, we ignore this need or, even worse, we deny its very existence. But recognize it or not, the need is present and must be expressed in some shape, manner, or form.

Who comforts us as we mourn our losses? God, obviously! Through us. Since God dwells within all who believe and seek to live out His divine will, we become instruments of God in every aspect of our lives. We must become aware of His presence within us so as to be available in those moments when others may be in need to be the compassion of God at that time. In this way, we can be assured that what God has said and promised is true. "I have seen your tears." (Is 38: 5)

A Different World

2010-04-27T22:14:00.000-07:00

As the chill of the spring evening descended upon us, I sat at my office window which overlooks a green area that is filled with trees and great expanses of freshly mown grass. The aroma of the newly cut lawn drifted in through the open window and instantly freshened the room. Down below, in the lengthening shadows, three boys ranging in ages from eight to twelve were engaged in an exciting cricket match.

My mind swiftly retreated to earlier days, the days that were filled with the carefree notion of youth. I lived in a neighborhood composed mainly of elderly people. There were few kids my age anywhere near. But, there were enough, so that on those hot and humid summer nights that define the Midwest, a spirited game of baseball would often break out.

Our "field" was the asphalt of a sloping playground that was watched over by an ageing school building. Jefferson School had been in place for years. It was the childhood elementary school of my mother back in the 1930's. In its day I am sure it was a regal appearing structure. But now, in the sixties, it showed its age and it looked tired. Nevertheless, it was a great spot for a ballgame.

Now I am not an athlete! I know this may shock some of you, but it is true. I was always the kid who was "elected" to take that vital position of right fielder simply because very rarely did a ball ever reach that field and if it did it was because of a bad throw to the first baseman! But it was fun any way.

As I played out those times in my memory, the echoes of the cricket players brought me back to the present. "How different the world is today!" I thought to myself. In those days of the sixties, everyone on the ball field was white. Most were boys, although some girls who had to prove themselves as "suitable" athletes were allowed in the game! Down below my window perch, the three young men playing cricket were all from the Far East. Two were of Chinese descent and the third was from the Indian continent. And they played in complete harmony. There wasn't one raised voice in anger. They were perfectly happy playing in the quiet of the early evening.

How different the world is, yet, in so many ways, it remains the same. The cricket players like we veterans of that asphalt baseball diamond, were busy just being kids. Screaming and yelling. Running and laughing. Playing as hard as possible to win but, yet, somehow winning wasn't the most important thing. It was the fun of it all. And just being a kid!

And then the thought struck me, how different the world would be if we, as we grew up, would have kept just half the attitude we had as kids. Baseball players and cricket players struggled to win. We were all competitive. But it was the friendship that counted. The feeling that you were part of the gang. That somehow you had worth because you could play together, try to beat each other, and when it was all said and done, you left the ball yard even better friends just waiting for the next game to "blow them away!" We knew we all had flaws but it didn't matter. We played on and then we grew up.

It is my hope that the cricket players beneath my window will have learned from my generation how important it is to take along with them into adulthood at least a little of that attitude that all children have. That somehow, they will be able to in the future, still see the important thing at the end of the day is the complete regard for the other person! Now there would be a "Different World!"

Into Great Silence

2010-04-26T21:44:00.000-07:00

Several years ago a very unique motion picture came to the United States for screening across the country. It had no action as part of its plot. There were no love scenes. There were no actors or actresses. No one pulled a gun, discovered a gruesomely mutilated body, or even spoke one curse word. Yet, the movie was a success. Quite remarkable when you stop and think that the movie ran for over two hours and did not have one line of written dialogue, only a community of religious men who came together daily for prayer.

The film, "Into Great Silence," chronicled the lives of the monks of a monastery tucked away deep in the French Alps. The director, who also served as the film's camera and sound man, spent six months recording the daily pulse of life in the monastery. Here we witness men living in complete silence, making every task a prayer. They gathered together as a community several times a day for prayer and carried out their work assignments in complete silence, allowing the voice of God to penetrate their hearts. Once a week they came together to talk among themselves about issues in the monestery and to enjoy one another's company. The rest of their week was spent in complete silence.

Their is a lesson in this simple and beautiful film. It is a message of simplicity. A message of true and honest work in the name of the Lord. It is an example of commitment to the Word of God in mundane every day tasks.

We live in a very noisy world. Televisions run twenty-four hours a day. Traffic seems to flow at all hours of the day and night. Our computer keyboards clatter well into the wee hours of the morning. Music plays in the backdrop of our lives and the only time we notice it is when it is not playing! In all of this racket it is very difficult to hear the voice of the Lord, let alone determine what it is that He is saying.

Prayer life is vital to the survival of the soul. Without it, we may very well whither and die in our spiritual life. We must create a personal space for prayer, preferably on a daily basis, that allows for the quiet that our souls crave.

My quiet time is late at night when the house is quiet and the world outside my window seemingly has slowed down to the point that the evening sounds can be recognized. The sound of crickets and bellowing of frogs in the summer and the absolute quiet that follows a freshly fallen blanket of snow speak volumes of the love of God. It is in these quiet times that our hearts and minds are better able to open to the Spirit and allow the Father of us all to enter into communion with us.

This quiet time doesn't have to be a prolonged period of time, although I think you will find that if you do create a quiet time for yourself, you will want it to go on beyond the time you have allotted. It is a time of peace and real relaxation. It is a time when you do not have to have one single thought in your head. Indeed, it is often better if you do not! It is a very private time between you and God in which the Father will take the opportunity to touch our hearts. In this moment, a sense of enormous joy will infuse the soul even though you may not be readily aware of it.

As the film "Into Great Silence" teaches, there is great satisfaction and peace in allowing the voice of God to permeate our existence as we go through our every-day lives. Jesus invites us to come to Him in just such a way. He once told His followers that when they wanted to pray, they were to lock themselves away so they would not be disturbed. In this way the Father of us all will certainly come into our hearts with His messages of Faith, Hope, and Love. How can we possibly pass up the opportunity to meet God in such an intimate setting. Seek your own "Great Silence" and the Lord will not disappoint!

Faith. . .Not Certainty

2010-04-23T22:13:00.000-07:00

All of us believe, I think, that we know what faith is. Many of us will recite the definition of faith from the Letter of St. Paul to the Hebrews. "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Heb 11: 1) By its very nature, faith is a mysterious, mystical element of our lives that we all depend upon whether or not we acknowledge its presence.

However, faith is not certainty. We can be certain of very few things in life and faith does not bequeath certainty in any way shape or form. Faith, rather, is the foundation of the spiritual life. It gives us both hope and direction. But it is not certainty. Faith does not fail as long as we hold onto it and trust in its ability to transform and reform us.

When life becomes confusing and chaotic, certainty often fails. When our beliefs or philosophies are shaken to the core, we usually lose all certainty. We feel lost and alone and find it difficult to return to the path we were on when life's little surprises knocked us off course, a path lined with certainty about our life. Only faith gives us reason to go on. If we have faith, true faith based upon a mature understanding of Who God is and His role in our lives, then it gives us reason to go on. It is through faith that we are given to understand that despite the darkness we may find ourselves in at the present, there is hope.

Faith cannot always be defined. It defies definition any way. And, yet, it guides us through our days. Even though we may be going through a period of uncertainty brought on by one of many life crises we may encounter, faith will see us through it all with hope. And this hope is not the hope of someone wanting to hit the lottery. It is grounded in reality. Hope, as defined by the Catechism of the Catholic Church, is "the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit." (CCC, Article 7, Section II, The Theological Virtues)

Hope, therefore, is not of our will but that borne of our faith in God. It is not some pie in the sky wish we have for our mortal existence, but based in the reality of God in our lives. We are incapable of having faith without the guidance of the Holy Spirit and His prompting toward hope. We choose to respond or ignore this prompting, but we do not originate the communication. In essence, we respond to God on a very intimate level.

So, while there is very little certainty in this life, there is still one definite certainty. And that certainty is the love of God for each and every one of us as we make our way through the maze of life. We can be certain that if we but have faith in God, hope will be His gift to us!

A Hot Cup of Coffee

2010-04-16T22:24:00.000-07:00

Well, Lloyd, you've been gone a little over a week now and the reality of your passing is just sinking in. And while we're so happy that you have joined the heavenly choirs in praise of God, we mourn your passing very much. There is a sting to your death that cuts deeply into the soul and I don't think this will ever pass. You just adapt. We know that with the passage of time we will heal, but until then, the pain in our hearts serves as a reminder that you are gone. However, you'll never be forgotten!

Your gentle voice will always ring in our ears as a sweet lullaby, soothing and healing. We will still celebrate your birthday, each in our own way. The holidays will still be marked as family gatherings with the bittersweet memory of how much joy being with us brought you. In fact, you will be at the heart of each celebration but please understand that there will be a touch of sadness, especially at that first Christmas without you.

One thing will never change, though. At your place at the table, there will always be that piping hot cup of coffee waiting for you. And we wait for the day when we can once again join you in this simple pleasure that so reminds us of you!

Forward

2010-04-14T14:41:00.000-07:00

One of the most curious things that occurs after the loss of a loved one is the reluctance to move forward in life. With each passing day, it seems sometimes that we are leaving that person in the past, failing to carry them forward with us in our lives. This may even produce a sense of guilt.

Somehow, getting back to the normal routine seems to say on some level that the loved one wasn't really all that important. Otherwise, why would we "get back to normal?" However, it is important to note that you really do not get back to "normal" at all. You adapt. Life will not be the same without the presence of the deceased. There is a void in our lives that will never quite heal. Sometimes it feels as though we won't ever laugh again. That our smiles are only half-hearted. That the spring in our step may never return. And that there is little to look forward to in the future.

But the fact is that these are all mistaken notions. We will all laugh once again and just as heartily as we have before. Our smiles will be as broad as ever as things settle into perspective. We will feel a sense of happiness and joy in life that will quicken our steps as we march through life. Before we know it, we will be wondering when the next holiday will be upon us. It is called living life and we are meant to do so, even though we may indescribably sad at various times in our lives.

Just because we engage in life once again does not mean that the loved one is being left in the past. They are with us in those belly laughs. They enjoy our wide smiles as we find happiness in our journey. They will walk with us in our memories and our hearts as our lives continue moving onward. They will know our anticipation of the next holiday looming ahead in our lives.

You see, they are a part of us. They are with us daily even though we may not consciously be thinking of them at every waking moment. They move and breathe with us and we can count on them to share our lives in special ways. We may not be able to say hello to them any longer or give them a call on the phone to see how they are. Those days are over. But what now lay ahead is a new form of communication based on their active presence in our very spirits. We may find ourselves smiling from time to time as we remember an incident from the past that reminds us of what we are now doing. We may feel their approval at certain decisions we make along the way. This is a new form of communication that we will come to look forward to every bit as much as that phone call that we once so looked forward to.

Our sadness will subside and we will become new people in many ways because of our experience of their loss. That new person we become will be an even greater reflection of the loved one that they were in life because now, after our loss, we have a much greater appreciation of who they were and what they meant to us. Let us move forward into the future with a sense of hope and joy at the knowledge that we have not left them behind but have incorporated them into our lives and now take them wherever life may lead us.