Baxter costs. He costs money in vet bills, food, litter and occasional toys and pet paraphernalia. He costs time in making sure he is fed twice a day, and his litter is cleaned once a day. He costs my convenience to turn on the spigot when he wants a drink or allow him in my lap when he needs some up-close contact. Having a pet in the house costs its owner in many ways, but it’s worth it. Not that Baxter pays any of his own bills or does any of his own chores around the house. His house servant—yours truly—has sole responsibility for such things. Still, Baxter is worth all the expense and bother for one reason—companionship.
He greets me whenever I come home. He usually likes to have me around and misses me when I am gone for long periods. He senses when I am having a bad day or am not feeling well, and he tries to stay close. If I feel ill and lie down for a nap, he lies against me for comfort. If he’s sitting with his back to me and I call his name, his ears turn backwards to pay attention to the call. If he is lying on the floor and I say his name, his tail swishes, and he repeats the movement each time his name is said. As my Dad used to say, “He’s some cat!” Baxter is a great companion. We have learned to communicate with each other, to live together with our separate set of needs, and to care that each other is there. Baxter is definitely worth the bother of having him around, and I believe he thinks the same of me.
But there is a third party in our house whose companionship is shared—God. God is certainly not another cat, but He knows the feline outlook on life because He created these fascinating creatures. God did become a human being in Jesus, so I believe I have some advantage on Baxter in the divine relationship area. God lives with us, Baxter and me. Most of the time He’s a silent companion in the house. He’s little bother. He adds no additional costs to the household budget. He goes along with our routines, and doesn’t demand much. His special food is taken at the church down the street in Christ’s body and blood. But instead of being fed, He feeds us. He’s quiet most of the time, but He likes some special music on occasion—hymns, religious songs, Christmas carols and Easter anthems. We speak throughout the day, sometimes for short periods and at other times for longer conversations. He doesn’t say much, nor does He often give direct advice. He most often offers inspiration, encouragement, consolation, and support just by His presence, but sometimes He delivers a challenge, or even a rebuke. All in all, God is very easy to live with, if I just welcome His presence and take Him for what He is—the unconditional love that is the eternal truth about life.
God is in your house too. Take the time to notice Him. That’s all He asks. No special food or quarters or personal accommodations are required for Him. But He is the best companion you could ever wish for, even better than the best pet. Welcome Him, talk with Him, let Him get close. You won’t regret it.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Thursday, February 28, 2013
PRESSING OUR BUTTONS
Certain things get Baxter excited. On one hand, the smell of salmon on the grill, the sound of his feeder offering a new meal, the rustle of his package of treats opening, these widen his eyes, perk his tail, and send him running in the direction the smells or sounds indicate. On the other hand, the sound of fireworks or the household sweeper, the smell of vinegar or lemons set him in the opposite direction, fleeing the repulsive signal. Baxter has two sets of buttons. Some are pushed by those things that make him happy, and others by those that repel him and set him on edge. Either reaction is abrupt, and he doesn’t try to hide how he feels about the situation at hand.
We have the same sort of visceral responses to certain things. The mention of certain persons, places, or things may set us off with either cascades of praise or deluges of disgust. (Chocolate works the first way for me, and grits the second.) Usually there is no convincing us otherwise when one of these “buttons” is pushed for us. We either delight or disgust ourselves at the mere mention of the word. We love to savor the delights, and we hope to forget, avoid or eliminate those disgusting stimuli we encounter. Often our responses are failsafe. No conditions, disguises, or exceptions will change our minds and the reactions our memory generates.
God has certain positive and negative buttons too. We see them clearly displayed in Jesus’ ministry. He can’t resist forgiving the humble and contrite sinner. He is attracted to the weak and vulnerable among us. He puts down the arrogant and proud, and he exposes the deceiver and manipulator for what he or she is. He accepts any genuine invitation to sit and eat at someone’s house, and He invites others to His table with only a few conditions—a wedding garment, no excuses, and a hunger. Jesus’ buttons are clearly marked. Push a certain one and you get what’s coming—a warm and enthusiastic embrace or a direct and challenging rebuke. The lukewarm doesn’t hold much value in the Kingdom preferences Jesus displays. His likes and dislikes are definite.
What sets us off? That’s a good way to examine our consciences this Lent. Do we get excited and upset about the right things from God’s point of view? Are our buttons set to value what God values, to seek what God desires for us and the world, to explode with enthusiasm for what is genuinely good for all and with outrage for what degrades others as less than children of God? Lent is a time to adjust the settings of our lives, so that we care passionately about what God loves and are unmoved by lesser things.
Baxter’s buttons are rather simple and clear. As long as he can get the food that he likes and have the security and quiet he prefers, he is set for his life. Our buttons are more complicated with more at stake. When something sets us off, it’s an explosion that can either destroy what makes life valuable and meaningful or add to its value and meaning. Unlock the power for good this Lent. Push the right buttons in yourself and others for the right reasons for God’s sake and our own.
We have the same sort of visceral responses to certain things. The mention of certain persons, places, or things may set us off with either cascades of praise or deluges of disgust. (Chocolate works the first way for me, and grits the second.) Usually there is no convincing us otherwise when one of these “buttons” is pushed for us. We either delight or disgust ourselves at the mere mention of the word. We love to savor the delights, and we hope to forget, avoid or eliminate those disgusting stimuli we encounter. Often our responses are failsafe. No conditions, disguises, or exceptions will change our minds and the reactions our memory generates.
God has certain positive and negative buttons too. We see them clearly displayed in Jesus’ ministry. He can’t resist forgiving the humble and contrite sinner. He is attracted to the weak and vulnerable among us. He puts down the arrogant and proud, and he exposes the deceiver and manipulator for what he or she is. He accepts any genuine invitation to sit and eat at someone’s house, and He invites others to His table with only a few conditions—a wedding garment, no excuses, and a hunger. Jesus’ buttons are clearly marked. Push a certain one and you get what’s coming—a warm and enthusiastic embrace or a direct and challenging rebuke. The lukewarm doesn’t hold much value in the Kingdom preferences Jesus displays. His likes and dislikes are definite.
What sets us off? That’s a good way to examine our consciences this Lent. Do we get excited and upset about the right things from God’s point of view? Are our buttons set to value what God values, to seek what God desires for us and the world, to explode with enthusiasm for what is genuinely good for all and with outrage for what degrades others as less than children of God? Lent is a time to adjust the settings of our lives, so that we care passionately about what God loves and are unmoved by lesser things.
Baxter’s buttons are rather simple and clear. As long as he can get the food that he likes and have the security and quiet he prefers, he is set for his life. Our buttons are more complicated with more at stake. When something sets us off, it’s an explosion that can either destroy what makes life valuable and meaningful or add to its value and meaning. Unlock the power for good this Lent. Push the right buttons in yourself and others for the right reasons for God’s sake and our own.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
TRAINING EACH OTHER
Baxter wasn't hard to train. He came ready to use the litter box - no learning curve there. He quickly gave up jumping on counters or tables - a few loud and harsh voice commands did the trick there. He grew into getting brushed each night. At first he resisted, but eventually he looked for it. Now he comes when I call him for his nightly primping. When it came to the furniture, we negotiated that one. At first, I wanted to say no contact with any chairs or couches. Baxter had to stay on his own bed and pillows - but that was a losing battle. We compromised by his using those pieces of furniture that I made Baxter-proof with covers. Consequently, there are many covered chairs - and a covered bed - in my quarters. Baxter got the better part of that deal.
In fact, Baxter got his way on a number of things. Where and when he ate were a lot of his doing, but I portioned the servings over his protests that they were too small. Window access was Baxter’s call. He loved to look outside, and if he could get to any ledge, I allowed him to take in any view that he fancied. I also gave in on Baxter’s drinking habits. He preferred flowing water from a spigot, and he has chosen different spigots in the various places we have lived - laundry room, bathroom sink, bathroom tub, lawn hose. Why one and not another in certain places - I haven’t asked him. I am sure he has his reasons though.
You see what has happened between us. We have trained each other. He knows my limits, my non-negotiables, and I know his likes and dislikes and try to accommodate them. It’s a give and take, and in the course of our years together, we have trained each other to become a family of sorts. We have learned to share our space, our habits, our idiosyncrasies, our delights and our displeasures. We have learned to put up with each other, but also to enjoy each other, to work together to make wherever we are living a home by marking it with our unique relationship. In this way, we have shaped each other in a habit of living that has made life better for both of us.
That’s the way God works with us. God sets the standards for living together, but there’s lots of room for us to add our personal touch. We are asked to live a life of discipleship that follows certain divine principles, but we give it our own personality, our own strengths and weaknesses, and our own set of gifts and talents. All these make our discipleship unique, even while it is held in common with fellow disciples in the Church. God controls the big picture of authentic human happiness, but He allows us to color in the details. He respects our taste, our freedom to choose from many goods in life, our understanding of the various dimensions of life’s truths, our desire to do the right thing in difficult circumstances. He accepts our limitations and works within them.
Nevertheless, God always calls us beyond the limits we have set for ourselves. His love encourages us to work through our struggles and dilemmas, to use our minds to figure out the right course in a reasonable and loving way. He calls His followers to support and help each other through life’s difficulties. God takes on the character of our lives, so that we can better them, reshape them into the image of God’s life for which they were intended. When we live with God, there’s a give and take. God concedes to take on our ways so that we can finally live with Him and each other in His ways. This wonderful exchange is the mystery of our salvation in Christ.
In fact, Baxter got his way on a number of things. Where and when he ate were a lot of his doing, but I portioned the servings over his protests that they were too small. Window access was Baxter’s call. He loved to look outside, and if he could get to any ledge, I allowed him to take in any view that he fancied. I also gave in on Baxter’s drinking habits. He preferred flowing water from a spigot, and he has chosen different spigots in the various places we have lived - laundry room, bathroom sink, bathroom tub, lawn hose. Why one and not another in certain places - I haven’t asked him. I am sure he has his reasons though.
You see what has happened between us. We have trained each other. He knows my limits, my non-negotiables, and I know his likes and dislikes and try to accommodate them. It’s a give and take, and in the course of our years together, we have trained each other to become a family of sorts. We have learned to share our space, our habits, our idiosyncrasies, our delights and our displeasures. We have learned to put up with each other, but also to enjoy each other, to work together to make wherever we are living a home by marking it with our unique relationship. In this way, we have shaped each other in a habit of living that has made life better for both of us.
That’s the way God works with us. God sets the standards for living together, but there’s lots of room for us to add our personal touch. We are asked to live a life of discipleship that follows certain divine principles, but we give it our own personality, our own strengths and weaknesses, and our own set of gifts and talents. All these make our discipleship unique, even while it is held in common with fellow disciples in the Church. God controls the big picture of authentic human happiness, but He allows us to color in the details. He respects our taste, our freedom to choose from many goods in life, our understanding of the various dimensions of life’s truths, our desire to do the right thing in difficult circumstances. He accepts our limitations and works within them.
Nevertheless, God always calls us beyond the limits we have set for ourselves. His love encourages us to work through our struggles and dilemmas, to use our minds to figure out the right course in a reasonable and loving way. He calls His followers to support and help each other through life’s difficulties. God takes on the character of our lives, so that we can better them, reshape them into the image of God’s life for which they were intended. When we live with God, there’s a give and take. God concedes to take on our ways so that we can finally live with Him and each other in His ways. This wonderful exchange is the mystery of our salvation in Christ.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
THE COLD SHOULDER
When Baxter doesn’t get what he wants, he gives me the cold shoulder. He usually turns and sits with his back to me. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks straight ahead in the opposite direction from where I am and pretends I’m not there. If I call his name, he ignores it. If I ask him a question, he makes no response. He may eventually leave the room for one of his comfortable spots, or he may just continue to sit with his back to me, denying me a place in his world. Baxter shuts me out of his world because I didn’t make it the way he wanted it to be-full of endless food.
We can sometimes do that to God. We turn away when we get angry at Him for what happened to us. We pout because everyone else seems to have all the luck, and we think we are left with the bum deal. We get all the toil, struggle and heartache. Our lives are full of drudgery and lack excitement. We think we know what we need to be happy, but we are denied it. So, we make ourselves out to be the scape goat for others’ irresponsibility and sin, and we play the victim of life, the butt of God’s mean-spirited joke, and we don’t like it. All we know to do is to give Him the cold shoulder. We stop praying, stop participating in the Sunday Eucharist, stop trying to live by the principles and convictions we were taught. We give up on God, on each other and on ourselves.
Lent is a time to turn around. The call to repentance that marks this season bids us to face up to God, each other and ourselves with our grievances and hurts. Like the elder son in the parable of the prodigal son, the Father comes out to us and invites us home to celebrate. He allows us to get our burdens off our chests in an honest confession of the pain we have felt. He tells us how much we matter to Him and how He grieves when we are distant. Through the exercises of this season, God looks at us with the warmth of His love and tries to melt the resentments we hold that prevent us from seeing Him at work in our lives. Lent is meant to be the annual homecoming for us in faith, and our ticket to this reunion is the prayer, fasting and almsgiving we undertake, the sacraments of Eucharist and Penance we celebrate, and the efforts we make to think, say and do things differently.
Eventually, Baxter gives in and comes around again with a friendly purr and gentle rub. If a cat can find his way to a change of heart, surely we can. Don’t miss the opportunity to turn things around this Lent by using the tools the church offers us to guide our repentance. A cold shoulder only breeds more hurt and pain, but a warm embrace of genuine love brings happiness to those who share it. Let’s have a happy Lent.
We can sometimes do that to God. We turn away when we get angry at Him for what happened to us. We pout because everyone else seems to have all the luck, and we think we are left with the bum deal. We get all the toil, struggle and heartache. Our lives are full of drudgery and lack excitement. We think we know what we need to be happy, but we are denied it. So, we make ourselves out to be the scape goat for others’ irresponsibility and sin, and we play the victim of life, the butt of God’s mean-spirited joke, and we don’t like it. All we know to do is to give Him the cold shoulder. We stop praying, stop participating in the Sunday Eucharist, stop trying to live by the principles and convictions we were taught. We give up on God, on each other and on ourselves.
Lent is a time to turn around. The call to repentance that marks this season bids us to face up to God, each other and ourselves with our grievances and hurts. Like the elder son in the parable of the prodigal son, the Father comes out to us and invites us home to celebrate. He allows us to get our burdens off our chests in an honest confession of the pain we have felt. He tells us how much we matter to Him and how He grieves when we are distant. Through the exercises of this season, God looks at us with the warmth of His love and tries to melt the resentments we hold that prevent us from seeing Him at work in our lives. Lent is meant to be the annual homecoming for us in faith, and our ticket to this reunion is the prayer, fasting and almsgiving we undertake, the sacraments of Eucharist and Penance we celebrate, and the efforts we make to think, say and do things differently.
Eventually, Baxter gives in and comes around again with a friendly purr and gentle rub. If a cat can find his way to a change of heart, surely we can. Don’t miss the opportunity to turn things around this Lent by using the tools the church offers us to guide our repentance. A cold shoulder only breeds more hurt and pain, but a warm embrace of genuine love brings happiness to those who share it. Let’s have a happy Lent.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
WE'RE NEVER DISCONNECTED
Baxter doesn't like for me to leave. I try to keep it from him for as long as possible, but he has this uncanny sense of my intentions. He looks at me with, at first, a look of suspicion, and then a look of hurt and resentment. "How could you leave me behind?". When I pull out the luggage to pack, he knows it's happening. Then he tries to come along. He climbs into the bag and lies down. If I zipper it shut, he just stays inside. I guess he hopes I'll forget he's in there and take him along. When I take him from the bag and begin to put my things inside, he lodges his protests, first, with sounds of indignation, and when that doesn't stop my packing, then the cold shoulder. He refuses to look at me and sits with his back to my view. Finally, I get the sad eyes, the look that says, "I wish you wouldn't leave."
For all of his feigned independence and love of solitude, Baxter does cling to the things he loves. He stays close to his favorite sleeping pillow, his food dish and me. He doesn't like to be too far from their reassuring presence, and he regularly rubs up against these markers to reassure himself that his world is right and safe. If one of these is missing for a while, I can see his confusion, quandary and eventual sense of being lost. It's like a lifeline has broken, and he is floating in a sea of uncharted waters.
We experience the same kind of disorientation when we lose touch with the landmarks of love in our lives. The regular phone call from a friend or family member, the weekly breakfast or lunch with colleagues or neighbors, the friendly note or email or text message, these are all ways we keep in touch and know that others care. We can't just think about others. We have to touch them in some way to stay connected. We can't take for granted that they will always be there. We have to make an effort to assure others that they matter to us and we won't forget about them or let them down. While we can't cling to them if they are ever to be responsible and free adults, we stay attached by showing our interest and concern through our communications and thoughtfulness. We matter to each other not by being attached at the hip so that neither person can move without the other, but by being attached at the heart where the bonds of concern bridge distances, different circumstances, and changes in life style and obligations. Another person doesn't have to be physically present to be part of our life. He or she just has to fit in an ongoing way with what is happening to us. They are interested; they care; they help when possible; they stay in touch.
Now we have a hint to eternal life. When Jesus rose from the dead, He wasn't physically present to the disciples as he was before the crucifixion. His was a resurrected body that allowed Him to continue His relationship with them, but in a new way of being. His love never died, but it showed itself differently as the circumstances of life changed for the Lord and for His followers. Now the disciples' faith had been tested, and they were more mature in their understanding of God's ways. Jesus didn't have to hold their hands and fight their battles for them any longer. They could preach the Good News themselves and make decisions that would concretely shape their lives as the early Christian community. They spread out from ancient Israel to bring the faith to peoples of different backgrounds and cultures. They developed doctrines to summarize their beliefs, rituals to celebrate them, and rules to order their life together. They took the initiative to do all of this because the Lord was present to them with love and concern through the Holy Spirit that He sealed into their new lives. He never left them. He just moved on to risen life with them creating different marks of His presence and love in their lives.
We share this risen life in the Spirit, so we share a bond of affection that has its own marks of connection in grace. Don't take these for granted, but cultivate and nurture them. Then we will know that although we may be separated for a time, we are still part of each other's lives for all time. The communion of saints is eternal.
Baxter, I am coming home soon.
For all of his feigned independence and love of solitude, Baxter does cling to the things he loves. He stays close to his favorite sleeping pillow, his food dish and me. He doesn't like to be too far from their reassuring presence, and he regularly rubs up against these markers to reassure himself that his world is right and safe. If one of these is missing for a while, I can see his confusion, quandary and eventual sense of being lost. It's like a lifeline has broken, and he is floating in a sea of uncharted waters.
We experience the same kind of disorientation when we lose touch with the landmarks of love in our lives. The regular phone call from a friend or family member, the weekly breakfast or lunch with colleagues or neighbors, the friendly note or email or text message, these are all ways we keep in touch and know that others care. We can't just think about others. We have to touch them in some way to stay connected. We can't take for granted that they will always be there. We have to make an effort to assure others that they matter to us and we won't forget about them or let them down. While we can't cling to them if they are ever to be responsible and free adults, we stay attached by showing our interest and concern through our communications and thoughtfulness. We matter to each other not by being attached at the hip so that neither person can move without the other, but by being attached at the heart where the bonds of concern bridge distances, different circumstances, and changes in life style and obligations. Another person doesn't have to be physically present to be part of our life. He or she just has to fit in an ongoing way with what is happening to us. They are interested; they care; they help when possible; they stay in touch.
Now we have a hint to eternal life. When Jesus rose from the dead, He wasn't physically present to the disciples as he was before the crucifixion. His was a resurrected body that allowed Him to continue His relationship with them, but in a new way of being. His love never died, but it showed itself differently as the circumstances of life changed for the Lord and for His followers. Now the disciples' faith had been tested, and they were more mature in their understanding of God's ways. Jesus didn't have to hold their hands and fight their battles for them any longer. They could preach the Good News themselves and make decisions that would concretely shape their lives as the early Christian community. They spread out from ancient Israel to bring the faith to peoples of different backgrounds and cultures. They developed doctrines to summarize their beliefs, rituals to celebrate them, and rules to order their life together. They took the initiative to do all of this because the Lord was present to them with love and concern through the Holy Spirit that He sealed into their new lives. He never left them. He just moved on to risen life with them creating different marks of His presence and love in their lives.
We share this risen life in the Spirit, so we share a bond of affection that has its own marks of connection in grace. Don't take these for granted, but cultivate and nurture them. Then we will know that although we may be separated for a time, we are still part of each other's lives for all time. The communion of saints is eternal.
Baxter, I am coming home soon.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
WE’RE NOT ALONE
Sometimes Baxter spends long hours alone. All of his physical needs are cared for, and I usually leave a radio playing so that he has some pleasant sounds in the background. But I can tell that at times he gets lonely. When I come back from my absence, he waits for a long scratch on the back, and then he rolls over for a gentle rub on the belly. He purrs and purrs, and he won’t leave my side. Finally, he jumps on my lap and finds his comfortable spot to fall asleep for a half hour or longer. That seems to reassure him that I will always come back and care for him. After that routine, Baxter is his old self again.
We all get anxious and ill at ease about feeling alone and abandoned. It may come to us when someone we love deeply dies, or when we find ourselves in new and strange circumstances with no familiar face around. It may happen when the children have moved from the homestead to start their own lives, or when we move from the house where the family was raised to downsize and enjoy a simpler life in retirement. Loneliness is the residue we feel when the familiar is gone, the routine is changed, and the people with whom we are most comfortable have moved to another setting with new people. It’s a mixed emotion, part sadness, part anxiety, part insecurity and a general unease with the new situation in which we find ourselves.
What can we do about it? We can’t avoid or prevent it. People die, move, grow up as part of living. We can, however, learn to start over when the unfamiliar takes over our lives. A few simple lessons may help. First, if we insist on nothing changing, then we are doomed to be lonely. We need to let go of the way things were to embrace the way they are now. That means we have to try new ways of living to set new routines in our life, because it is the routines that set our comfort zones back in place. Next, we have to be open to inviting new people into our life when the familiar faces are gone or are not there as much. At first, this may feel awkward and we may be tentative with each other, but keep at it. In time, a comfort zone is found with new friends over common interests, concerns or work together, and then they become familiar to us. Finally, don’t think that it has to be the same as before to be good now. Life is broad and flexible. It can twist and turn in many directions without falling apart. Although the routines and the familiar faces may be different, they can still be nourishing to our spirit and form connections that we learn to value as much as the former ones. They don’t replace loved ones lost or erase cherished memories of days past, but they add to these with new faces and experiences. The human heart is ever expandable to take in more of life and the people who make living worthwhile, if we allow it to grow.
As Catholic Christians we have an obligation not to become lonely, stodgy and bitter people. We have been given of God’s own Spirit to break down the barriers that isolate us from each other. We live by the grace of God to find new connections to each other. We are meant to adapt to various circumstances and people, just as the incarnate God did in Jesus and continues to do in the Spirit that moves in our world. Our God is a communion of life, and loneliness has no place in His life. To follow Him is to refuse to give in to the forces of isolation and division which keep us apart. Our God is ever new, recreating the face of the earth as we discover new relationships within the created order and among the peoples of this earth. When we feel lonely, we need to turn to God and ask for His grace to lead us to new people and events that embody His love and salvation for us.
Don’t worry, Baxter. I’ll never abandon you.
We all get anxious and ill at ease about feeling alone and abandoned. It may come to us when someone we love deeply dies, or when we find ourselves in new and strange circumstances with no familiar face around. It may happen when the children have moved from the homestead to start their own lives, or when we move from the house where the family was raised to downsize and enjoy a simpler life in retirement. Loneliness is the residue we feel when the familiar is gone, the routine is changed, and the people with whom we are most comfortable have moved to another setting with new people. It’s a mixed emotion, part sadness, part anxiety, part insecurity and a general unease with the new situation in which we find ourselves.
What can we do about it? We can’t avoid or prevent it. People die, move, grow up as part of living. We can, however, learn to start over when the unfamiliar takes over our lives. A few simple lessons may help. First, if we insist on nothing changing, then we are doomed to be lonely. We need to let go of the way things were to embrace the way they are now. That means we have to try new ways of living to set new routines in our life, because it is the routines that set our comfort zones back in place. Next, we have to be open to inviting new people into our life when the familiar faces are gone or are not there as much. At first, this may feel awkward and we may be tentative with each other, but keep at it. In time, a comfort zone is found with new friends over common interests, concerns or work together, and then they become familiar to us. Finally, don’t think that it has to be the same as before to be good now. Life is broad and flexible. It can twist and turn in many directions without falling apart. Although the routines and the familiar faces may be different, they can still be nourishing to our spirit and form connections that we learn to value as much as the former ones. They don’t replace loved ones lost or erase cherished memories of days past, but they add to these with new faces and experiences. The human heart is ever expandable to take in more of life and the people who make living worthwhile, if we allow it to grow.
As Catholic Christians we have an obligation not to become lonely, stodgy and bitter people. We have been given of God’s own Spirit to break down the barriers that isolate us from each other. We live by the grace of God to find new connections to each other. We are meant to adapt to various circumstances and people, just as the incarnate God did in Jesus and continues to do in the Spirit that moves in our world. Our God is a communion of life, and loneliness has no place in His life. To follow Him is to refuse to give in to the forces of isolation and division which keep us apart. Our God is ever new, recreating the face of the earth as we discover new relationships within the created order and among the peoples of this earth. When we feel lonely, we need to turn to God and ask for His grace to lead us to new people and events that embody His love and salvation for us.
Don’t worry, Baxter. I’ll never abandon you.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE
A few weeks ago Baxter was upset. His automatic feeder went off at its regular time of 5:00 a.m., and at the first sound of the plate turning to reveal a new compartment, he went running for it. However, soon he realized there was no food. I had forgotten to fill the compartments again after his last meal, so when the new section of the plate moved into place for breakfast, it was empty. Well, Baxter was not amused. He sat in front of the feeding station and cried, yelled and bellowed his displeasure. He didn’t move. He just sat there and fussed. He didn’t come to get me out of bed. He just fussed. He was paralyzed. He fussed and fussed and fussed until I heard him, got out of bed and served him his allotment of kibble.
We sometimes act this way as well. Something doesn’t go as we planned, and we sit and storm about it. We are disappointed in something or someone, and we don’t go to talk to the parties involved. We tell everyone else our woes and frustrations. It’s almost that we want to hear ourselves complain rather than address whatever the problem is. We feel self-righteous in our anger, and we want everyone to know it. We would rather take the offense personally, even if it isn’t personal, so that we can wear it as our badge of indignation at how unfair life is. The problem becomes our soap box where we can proclaim to the world how we are victims of life’s vicissitudes, and it is YOUR fault! We appear foolish, but we don’t care. We get carried away in the wrong of the moment, and nothing can satisfy us.
Then Christ says settle down. When the crowd wanted to stone the woman caught in adultery, when the disciples were indignant at the Zebedees’ unbridled ambition, when the rich young man enthusiastically sought to inherit God’s Kingdom, when the leaders asked if it is lawful to pay taxes to Rome, when the crowd was upset at the death of the young girl, in all these and many other situations described in the gospels, Jesus’ first response was to stop the general upset and calm everyone down. Then He went on to address the issue by healing or teaching another way. Stress interferes with the healing process, and no one can learn something new unless he or she can hear it over the anger of the moment. The shock of our disappointments and new problems can become an obstacle to overcoming them. We get stuck in our first reaction, and so never learn a way around our dilemmas.
When God closes a door, He opens a window, but we won’t see the open window if we remain facing the door. Look around the problems we face. Ask for help in this. Get over being upset, and get on with a plan to solve the problems. This is often how the power of God’s grace comes into our lives, but we have to allow it in.
In less than five minutes after I got up, Baxter got his bowl of kibble for breakfast. All he had to do was to stop crying and complaining and ask. Sometimes it’s that simple for us as well.
We sometimes act this way as well. Something doesn’t go as we planned, and we sit and storm about it. We are disappointed in something or someone, and we don’t go to talk to the parties involved. We tell everyone else our woes and frustrations. It’s almost that we want to hear ourselves complain rather than address whatever the problem is. We feel self-righteous in our anger, and we want everyone to know it. We would rather take the offense personally, even if it isn’t personal, so that we can wear it as our badge of indignation at how unfair life is. The problem becomes our soap box where we can proclaim to the world how we are victims of life’s vicissitudes, and it is YOUR fault! We appear foolish, but we don’t care. We get carried away in the wrong of the moment, and nothing can satisfy us.
Then Christ says settle down. When the crowd wanted to stone the woman caught in adultery, when the disciples were indignant at the Zebedees’ unbridled ambition, when the rich young man enthusiastically sought to inherit God’s Kingdom, when the leaders asked if it is lawful to pay taxes to Rome, when the crowd was upset at the death of the young girl, in all these and many other situations described in the gospels, Jesus’ first response was to stop the general upset and calm everyone down. Then He went on to address the issue by healing or teaching another way. Stress interferes with the healing process, and no one can learn something new unless he or she can hear it over the anger of the moment. The shock of our disappointments and new problems can become an obstacle to overcoming them. We get stuck in our first reaction, and so never learn a way around our dilemmas.
When God closes a door, He opens a window, but we won’t see the open window if we remain facing the door. Look around the problems we face. Ask for help in this. Get over being upset, and get on with a plan to solve the problems. This is often how the power of God’s grace comes into our lives, but we have to allow it in.
In less than five minutes after I got up, Baxter got his bowl of kibble for breakfast. All he had to do was to stop crying and complaining and ask. Sometimes it’s that simple for us as well.
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