Good Morning Jim,
Living life on this Earth, as we run/drive from place to place;
job to job, breakfast to dinner... we often loose the
realization that the JOURNEY is sometimes
more important (and more fun)
than reaching where we're going.
Baptism is a Big step in your journey.
We will never be perfect while we're on this
side of the dirt.
The joy is in the baby steps we take,
the attempt to be better is our YES to Jesus.
Our actions speak louder than our words.
When we try to be good, to follow
in Jesus' footsteps, God blesses us with faith;
and to my discomfort, He blesses us
with trials too...
The hard part is letting go
of MY will, of what I want. I need to look to the
needs of others before mine.
Only then do I have a chance or
hope of listening, watching,
and hearing the Word of God/
what He truly wants me to do.
Like Jesus' Mother when the Angel visited her,
"Let it be done unto me as God Wills."
Saint Paul was on his way to persecute Christians
when Jesus knocked him on his butt !!
I'd bet he didn't expect that, or like it at all !
When I'm heading the wrong way, God knocks
me on my butt too. Sometimes He does is physically, or
sometimes with a kind word from a stranger.
In our journey to obey God's will,
to get anywhere, we have to make footsteps.
We leave footprints when we're on the move,
I hope nobody follows in my steps when I'm walking
away from God. ( All too often )
Love Ya Jim, Peace and Joy to You !!
R
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Mary
In 1960 I was 7 years old.
Our family moved from Detroit to my aunt and uncle’s home, high in the wooded hills near Eureka, California.
We stayed with them for a while, until we found a house of our own.
They had a
beautiful, peaceful “chapel room” in their house. There was an altar, benches, crucifix, candles, and a picture of the Shroud of Turin. It was just like a little church. A problem was that sometimes we kids were “forced” to pray the Rosary with the grownups; even though we had youthful energy pouring out our ears . A seven year old boy does not appreciate a quiet, dark room in which to pray, especially while we had new cousins to play with !
It was Summer, and my brother, my older cousins, ( I'm sure to our parents relief.) would sometimes spend the night outside. We would wrestle around in our sleeping bags until we would fall asleep. One of these nights I
had an abscessed tooth (whatever that was). My gum was swollen and very sore; but playing was priority for the night. While roughhousing, I was hit pretty soundly in the mouth., and my gum started to bleed.
I began to cry and the others were quick to minister to me, and diagnose what should be done. My very wise, all knowing 12 year
old cousin, examined the damage in my mouth. In solemn fear and dread, he gave me dire news. If a drop of infected blood, had gone down my throat I would surely die by
morning. There was no cure, or hope of escaping my imminent demise. I started my dirge, and death wails immediately. My brother and cousins helped me on my death march to the house. It was late, and the grownups tried in vain to quiet my fears. Eventually mom and dad got me into a bed; but did not realize I was going to die before daybreak. I knew I would not see another day. I laid down still crying and getting ready to die. One of the adults gave me a hot water bottle to lay my cheek on, a rosary to hold, and patted me on the head. While I laid there that night, in the dark, alone, crying, and trying to pray; Mary, Jesus' Blessed Mother appeared to me. She was dressed in flowing blue and white. She calmed me and filled me with peace and joy. I don’t remember all that she said, but she talked with me, and stayed with me through the night. We prayed together, she filled me with her love. When I rose up in the morning I was so full of joy and peace, I’ll never forget it. The whole world looked, smelled, and felt new! That’s when I learned (for my lifetime), that Mary surely loves the little children.
Rick
Our family moved from Detroit to my aunt and uncle’s home, high in the wooded hills near Eureka, California.
We stayed with them for a while, until we found a house of our own.
They had a
beautiful, peaceful “chapel room” in their house. There was an altar, benches, crucifix, candles, and a picture of the Shroud of Turin. It was just like a little church. A problem was that sometimes we kids were “forced” to pray the Rosary with the grownups; even though we had youthful energy pouring out our ears . A seven year old boy does not appreciate a quiet, dark room in which to pray, especially while we had new cousins to play with !
It was Summer, and my brother, my older cousins, ( I'm sure to our parents relief.) would sometimes spend the night outside. We would wrestle around in our sleeping bags until we would fall asleep. One of these nights I
had an abscessed tooth (whatever that was). My gum was swollen and very sore; but playing was priority for the night. While roughhousing, I was hit pretty soundly in the mouth., and my gum started to bleed.
I began to cry and the others were quick to minister to me, and diagnose what should be done. My very wise, all knowing 12 year
old cousin, examined the damage in my mouth. In solemn fear and dread, he gave me dire news. If a drop of infected blood, had gone down my throat I would surely die by
morning. There was no cure, or hope of escaping my imminent demise. I started my dirge, and death wails immediately. My brother and cousins helped me on my death march to the house. It was late, and the grownups tried in vain to quiet my fears. Eventually mom and dad got me into a bed; but did not realize I was going to die before daybreak. I knew I would not see another day. I laid down still crying and getting ready to die. One of the adults gave me a hot water bottle to lay my cheek on, a rosary to hold, and patted me on the head. While I laid there that night, in the dark, alone, crying, and trying to pray; Mary, Jesus' Blessed Mother appeared to me. She was dressed in flowing blue and white. She calmed me and filled me with peace and joy. I don’t remember all that she said, but she talked with me, and stayed with me through the night. We prayed together, she filled me with her love. When I rose up in the morning I was so full of joy and peace, I’ll never forget it. The whole world looked, smelled, and felt new! That’s when I learned (for my lifetime), that Mary surely loves the little children.
Rick
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Eve
A poem I wrote to my wife, Eve
on Mother's day:
Eve: Mother
Youngling is born,
Through pain and prayer.
She learns with time,
Herself to share.
In house full of family,
Yet all alone.
Searching completeness,
Yearning for Home.
She meets young man,
Trusting her fate,
Joining with him,
Bonding soul mates.
Arms open wide,
The essence of Wife.
God blesses her,
With seed of Life.
Receiving the Love,
That makes her whole,
He, she, and God,
Create a new soul.
She is the Door,
Gate, Source, Giver.
‘Tween Heaven and Earth,
She is Life’s River.
Family shares trials,
Fair wind and storm,
Creation in progress,
A youngling is born.
on Mother's day:
Eve: Mother
Youngling is born,
Through pain and prayer.
She learns with time,
Herself to share.
In house full of family,
Yet all alone.
Searching completeness,
Yearning for Home.
She meets young man,
Trusting her fate,
Joining with him,
Bonding soul mates.
Arms open wide,
The essence of Wife.
God blesses her,
With seed of Life.
Receiving the Love,
That makes her whole,
He, she, and God,
Create a new soul.
She is the Door,
Gate, Source, Giver.
‘Tween Heaven and Earth,
She is Life’s River.
Family shares trials,
Fair wind and storm,
Creation in progress,
A youngling is born.
Rick
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Grandfather (story)
There was a married couple living in the country side. They had two beautiful children; about 6 and 8 years old.
Their grandfather lived with them, even though the family was not "well off."
He played with the children, and listened intently to their tales of each day's events.
As grandfather grew older, more feeble, he became more burdensome to the parents.
Grandfather told his old stories to the kids, gave advice that was 40 years out of date, and retold his growing up tales over and over and over. The children still loved him greatly.
As years went on, he began to irritate the father and mother more and more.
He was loosing his ability to hold onto things, with his hands or his mind.
Several times he had dropped a bowl, or a plate and broken them.
The mother ordered her husband to carve a bowl and drinking glass out of wood, so the old man couldn't break dishes when he clumsily handled them.
The parents would complain to each other about his growing infirmities. Soon it seemed to them that everything he did was an irritant and embarrassment to them.
The grandfather's hands would shake and spill his drink at supper, sometimes he would even miss his mouth with food. That was the last straw for the parents.
The mother told her husband to build a little table for the old man. She put together a standing curtain that hid a corner in the kitchen. Then they put grandfather behind the curtain so they would not have to watch him eat. They looked at each other every time they heard him spill on himself, or drop his dish. At least they didn't have to see it happening.
Time moved on. The oldster would quietly shuffle his way to his small corner place at meal times.
Sometimes he would go behind his divider during the day. He would silently stare at the walls and remember his past. Dream of what was, and what would never be.
On a late winter night the father was telling his children a story of his saving a pet from drowning; his son interrupted him with, "you told us this story last week, tell us a new one."
Several weeks later mother was looking for her new bonnet, and her daughter laughed out loud with, "It's on your head mom !!"
On the first fine spring day, father caught his son earnestly sawing a piece of wood in the garage. He curiously watched his boy working on his unknown project.
"What are you doing son ?"
"I'm making a wooden bowl for you dad." "Oh, that's nice of you," father responded with pride. "For when you can't hold onto real dishes !" the boy finished proudly.
Father silently went back into the house. He looked at the little table in the corner, screened off from the rest of the room. The old wooden bowl and spoon looked very much out of place, drying by themselves away from the family dishes. A tear appeared in the corner of his eye. He took his wife by the hand, and lead her outside. "We have to talk," he said quietly.
The children clapped their hands to see grandfather back at the family table that night.
Father and mother began to take much better care of grandfather. It seemed that day by day, they found more appreciation in their hearts for him.
The time came when grandfather could not walk at all, and had to stay in bed.
They took turns feeding him, and caring for him with increasing love.
When grandfather could no longer talk, mother, father, and children took turns re-telling his tales to him each night. They knew all his stories very well.
Every day, grandfather proudly listened to his family, as they shared their day's stories with him.
Until, grandmother came late one night and whispered into grandfather's ear. "Come with me dear, we have a New story to share; forever........."
Their grandfather lived with them, even though the family was not "well off."
He played with the children, and listened intently to their tales of each day's events.
As grandfather grew older, more feeble, he became more burdensome to the parents.
Grandfather told his old stories to the kids, gave advice that was 40 years out of date, and retold his growing up tales over and over and over. The children still loved him greatly.
As years went on, he began to irritate the father and mother more and more.
He was loosing his ability to hold onto things, with his hands or his mind.
Several times he had dropped a bowl, or a plate and broken them.
The mother ordered her husband to carve a bowl and drinking glass out of wood, so the old man couldn't break dishes when he clumsily handled them.
The parents would complain to each other about his growing infirmities. Soon it seemed to them that everything he did was an irritant and embarrassment to them.
The grandfather's hands would shake and spill his drink at supper, sometimes he would even miss his mouth with food. That was the last straw for the parents.
The mother told her husband to build a little table for the old man. She put together a standing curtain that hid a corner in the kitchen. Then they put grandfather behind the curtain so they would not have to watch him eat. They looked at each other every time they heard him spill on himself, or drop his dish. At least they didn't have to see it happening.
Time moved on. The oldster would quietly shuffle his way to his small corner place at meal times.
Sometimes he would go behind his divider during the day. He would silently stare at the walls and remember his past. Dream of what was, and what would never be.
On a late winter night the father was telling his children a story of his saving a pet from drowning; his son interrupted him with, "you told us this story last week, tell us a new one."
Several weeks later mother was looking for her new bonnet, and her daughter laughed out loud with, "It's on your head mom !!"
On the first fine spring day, father caught his son earnestly sawing a piece of wood in the garage. He curiously watched his boy working on his unknown project.
"What are you doing son ?"
"I'm making a wooden bowl for you dad." "Oh, that's nice of you," father responded with pride. "For when you can't hold onto real dishes !" the boy finished proudly.
Father silently went back into the house. He looked at the little table in the corner, screened off from the rest of the room. The old wooden bowl and spoon looked very much out of place, drying by themselves away from the family dishes. A tear appeared in the corner of his eye. He took his wife by the hand, and lead her outside. "We have to talk," he said quietly.
The children clapped their hands to see grandfather back at the family table that night.
Father and mother began to take much better care of grandfather. It seemed that day by day, they found more appreciation in their hearts for him.
The time came when grandfather could not walk at all, and had to stay in bed.
They took turns feeding him, and caring for him with increasing love.
When grandfather could no longer talk, mother, father, and children took turns re-telling his tales to him each night. They knew all his stories very well.
Every day, grandfather proudly listened to his family, as they shared their day's stories with him.
Until, grandmother came late one night and whispered into grandfather's ear. "Come with me dear, we have a New story to share; forever........."
The Swing
In my "young father" days, I used to go on walks with the kids.
We would point out things to each other, talk, and explore.
Sometimes I prayed silently. The kids would scout ahead, and come back to pull
me to treasures and hiding places.
Once, while walking with my son, we passed by an overgrown field.
In the middle of the field was the frame of a large old swing set, an overgrown tennis court, and a
small falling down wooden shed.
Chris saw the lone old swing frame and yelled, " Let's swing daddy !!"
He excitedly tried to pull me through the tall grass toward it. I tried to hold him back because I
could plainly see that there were no swings, chains, or anything on the framework.
I stopped and told Chris that the frame was empty.
He looked up at me, and said confidently, " let's ask Jesus !"
I started to answer to Chris... , "Yes, but.... "
Interrupting, he bent his little head and prayed, “ Jesus please let us have a swing to play on.”
Chris let go my hand, and ran off to the old playground ahead of me. I took this time to
vent my surging anger at God.
How could He disappoint a child, My Child, like this ?
Thinking of God saying, "have the faith of a child", I cried out to Him, "Here it is!
How can You tell us to have Faith? How can I explain your broken promise
to a little boy? He's too young to start this way!"
I could see the whole field, knew there would be no good answer to my little boy's prayer.
I was righteously furious; and I made sure God and anyone within earshot knew it!
With my head down, I followed my son's trail through the grass. I was angrily
trying out excuses for God.
"Not always. Sometimes we have to wait." but what I really wanted to say was, "sometimes
God's too busy to keep all His promises."
After the short walk, I arrived at the empty frame, Chris was not there.
I guessed, "is he rolling or hiding in the tall grass? Good, he's probably distracted,
maybe he's already forgotten his prayer," I mumbled to myself (loud enough for God to hear).
Chris' voice called to me from behind the little shed. When I stepped around the corner; my
mouth fell open.
There was a baby sized, old rusty swing set. On the crossbar was one crooked swing that Chris
was sitting on. He said “Push me daddy,” I did as he asked, as I laughed through my tears.
We would point out things to each other, talk, and explore.
Sometimes I prayed silently. The kids would scout ahead, and come back to pull
me to treasures and hiding places.
Once, while walking with my son, we passed by an overgrown field.
In the middle of the field was the frame of a large old swing set, an overgrown tennis court, and a
small falling down wooden shed.
Chris saw the lone old swing frame and yelled, " Let's swing daddy !!"
He excitedly tried to pull me through the tall grass toward it. I tried to hold him back because I
could plainly see that there were no swings, chains, or anything on the framework.
I stopped and told Chris that the frame was empty.
He looked up at me, and said confidently, " let's ask Jesus !"
I started to answer to Chris... , "Yes, but.... "
Interrupting, he bent his little head and prayed, “ Jesus please let us have a swing to play on.”
Chris let go my hand, and ran off to the old playground ahead of me. I took this time to
vent my surging anger at God.
How could He disappoint a child, My Child, like this ?
Thinking of God saying, "have the faith of a child", I cried out to Him, "Here it is!
How can You tell us to have Faith? How can I explain your broken promise
to a little boy? He's too young to start this way!"
I could see the whole field, knew there would be no good answer to my little boy's prayer.
I was righteously furious; and I made sure God and anyone within earshot knew it!
With my head down, I followed my son's trail through the grass. I was angrily
trying out excuses for God.
"Not always. Sometimes we have to wait." but what I really wanted to say was, "sometimes
God's too busy to keep all His promises."
After the short walk, I arrived at the empty frame, Chris was not there.
I guessed, "is he rolling or hiding in the tall grass? Good, he's probably distracted,
maybe he's already forgotten his prayer," I mumbled to myself (loud enough for God to hear).
Chris' voice called to me from behind the little shed. When I stepped around the corner; my
mouth fell open.
There was a baby sized, old rusty swing set. On the crossbar was one crooked swing that Chris
was sitting on. He said “Push me daddy,” I did as he asked, as I laughed through my tears.
Friday, February 6, 2009
These Eyes
His work begins with these eyes.
Moving to a future moment,
carrying memories, thoughts of the past;
I am interrupted by the Now.
A quiet call to pray,
a prayer for the Spirit to lead.
Show me, help me touch...
HE answers instantly and does both.
A lone woman, speeding to the future.
A lady, on her way, carrying.... much
I SEE her but an instant...
She is looking ahead, intent.
I send blessings to the woman.
Right NOW,
Please Help her Lord.
We pass by each other, to reach the future.
I have no knowing of her Needs,
but GOD Knows.
I pray, Bless her family Lord,
calm all her fears,
be REAL to her.
A blink in time,
she moves into the rest of her life;
as do I.
We will meet again, in forever,
she may tell of
our touch that day.
I SEE an old man, I don't know
his needs,
But God does....
Moving to a future moment,
carrying memories, thoughts of the past;
I am interrupted by the Now.
A quiet call to pray,
a prayer for the Spirit to lead.
Show me, help me touch...
HE answers instantly and does both.
A lone woman, speeding to the future.
A lady, on her way, carrying.... much
I SEE her but an instant...
She is looking ahead, intent.
I send blessings to the woman.
Right NOW,
Please Help her Lord.
We pass by each other, to reach the future.
I have no knowing of her Needs,
but GOD Knows.
I pray, Bless her family Lord,
calm all her fears,
be REAL to her.
A blink in time,
she moves into the rest of her life;
as do I.
We will meet again, in forever,
she may tell of
our touch that day.
I SEE an old man, I don't know
his needs,
But God does....
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Only human?
God does not imitate us.
HE does not appear to be a Loving FATHER.
HE IS who IS.
Powerful, Strong
Giving of self.
No imitation.
The REAL Protector.
Crying to give all of Himself.
All that He is,
All Creation He holds out to us.
A small thing in Light of His Love.
Spirit does not appear to be MOTHER.
She IS Life Giver!
Larger than small creation,
matter or space.
OPEN ! Joyfull Waiting,
ecstatically anticipating.
Total desire giving in
Receiving / Gift of Himself.
All Father She contains in Joy!
So empty of self, Full of HE.
She is Creator the Breath of morning
she pours into us, Receiving in giving.
Timeless Love, Eternal Being
Son by Name.
He does not appear to be GOD.
Incarnate Love lets go
FATHER and MOTHER.
Quiet strength,
To push Sin aside;
planting seed
Wisdom, Grace,
service, healing.
He cries to offer all,
to all, for all.
Letting go too His earthly Mother,
Brothers, Skin,
Blood and Bones,
Fleshly wrappings for His Love.
He offers for us;
Assuming FEAR, PAIN, loss
empty, and alone...
No reserve,
not one drop left.
All given for Whom He loves.
For the appearance of what can be....
HE does not appear to be a Loving FATHER.
HE IS who IS.
Powerful, Strong
Giving of self.
No imitation.
The REAL Protector.
Crying to give all of Himself.
All that He is,
All Creation He holds out to us.
A small thing in Light of His Love.
Spirit does not appear to be MOTHER.
She IS Life Giver!
Larger than small creation,
matter or space.
OPEN ! Joyfull Waiting,
ecstatically anticipating.
Total desire giving in
Receiving / Gift of Himself.
All Father She contains in Joy!
So empty of self, Full of HE.
She is Creator the Breath of morning
she pours into us, Receiving in giving.
Timeless Love, Eternal Being
Son by Name.
He does not appear to be GOD.
Incarnate Love lets go
FATHER and MOTHER.
Quiet strength,
To push Sin aside;
planting seed
Wisdom, Grace,
service, healing.
He cries to offer all,
to all, for all.
Letting go too His earthly Mother,
Brothers, Skin,
Blood and Bones,
Fleshly wrappings for His Love.
He offers for us;
Assuming FEAR, PAIN, loss
empty, and alone...
No reserve,
not one drop left.
All given for Whom He loves.
For the appearance of what can be....
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Love God ?
Love God ?
Long ago, I heard the scripture command to love God with our whole heart, whole mind, and whole strength. For some reason it struck me as a big challenge from God Himself.
As I walked out of Church, I told God, “ I don’t know you. I’ve never seen you. You don't talk to me, I don't talk to you. How could I ever love you with all my heart ? I can
barely stand my brothers !” God answered that challenging prayer of a little boy. As the years went by I began to see His works quite often. After this I grew in strength and wisdom before God and.... well hopefully a little. I do continue to see God through His creation, and His people all the time. It's almost hard not to see Him.
One of our family traditions at Christmas time, is that while travelling in the car with the kids (and grand kids now), we each look for “Christmas Spirit”. The first to shout out their sighting of Christ's seasonal lights, or other signs of Christ's Mass, they receive shouts and smiles of joy as the "winner" shares their find by pointing it out to us. Then all eyes peer about for the next "sign."
I need to live each day, of each season, looking / searching / longing for evidence of Christ's Light.
If I look closely, carefully,... with the “eyes of my heart” I will eventually see God everywhere.
Long ago, I heard the scripture command to love God with our whole heart, whole mind, and whole strength. For some reason it struck me as a big challenge from God Himself.
As I walked out of Church, I told God, “ I don’t know you. I’ve never seen you. You don't talk to me, I don't talk to you. How could I ever love you with all my heart ? I can
barely stand my brothers !” God answered that challenging prayer of a little boy. As the years went by I began to see His works quite often. After this I grew in strength and wisdom before God and.... well hopefully a little. I do continue to see God through His creation, and His people all the time. It's almost hard not to see Him.
One of our family traditions at Christmas time, is that while travelling in the car with the kids (and grand kids now), we each look for “Christmas Spirit”. The first to shout out their sighting of Christ's seasonal lights, or other signs of Christ's Mass, they receive shouts and smiles of joy as the "winner" shares their find by pointing it out to us. Then all eyes peer about for the next "sign."
I need to live each day, of each season, looking / searching / longing for evidence of Christ's Light.
If I look closely, carefully,... with the “eyes of my heart” I will eventually see God everywhere.
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