Chess, Anyone?

He was trying to schedule a Tuesday evening dinner meeting with a client and needed to see if the evening was free. His secretary checked his schedule and told him that he had something booked for Tuesday night –chess night. Would he like her to cancel chess night? No, indeed! He’d book the meeting on Wednesday instead.

The secretary imagined a mahogany walled clubroom with red leather furniture, deep plush carpeting, sweet smelling clouds of pipe tobacco hanging in the corners of the high ceiling, wool vested male twosomes hunched over gleaming wooden chessboards studiously moving small marble pieces to check mate.

When she asked him about chess night, he told her that chess night was with his wife—a quiet night at home with the family and then after the children were in bed, the two of them played chess. His schedule was very busy with meetings, clients in town, late nights at the office. Not wanting to neglect the most important relationship in his life, he’d scheduled evenings with his wife, writing them on the calendar.

How many times have we let our relationship with our spouse slip into second, third, or fourth place because something more important came up? As we speed through days, weeks, months, our lives become very complicated. There are meetings at school, sports events for our children, volunteer commitments, birthday celebrations, last minute shopping trips to replace that worn pair of tennis shoes, trips to the dentist and doctor.

We definitely need to slow down, but we also need to prioritize. What is really important? Putting chess night with his wife on the calendar and then keeping that night a high priority item says something about the value this man puts on his marriage and relationship with his wife. It also shows that he values his family and knows that the loving relationship he and his wife have is crucial to the family’s well-being. It’s important that children see their parents enjoying their time together and that they can actually carry on a conversation without their input.

Dinner out followed by a show is delightful. But, sometimes finances enter into the picture. It did for us when our seven children were all still at home. Eventually we produced our own succession of babysitters, but babysitters are an expense that many families find difficult to fit into the budget. We know of several couples that exchange childcare with each other so each couple can get out by themselves. Maybe Grandma and Grandpa or a generous aunt or uncle would enjoy coming over for the evening to sit with the children.

There are lots of inexpensive things to do. How about an adult ed class together? An exercise class? Language class? Cooking class? Dancing lessons? Throw the cross-country skis in the car and hit the trails for an hour or so. Do you ice skate? Go to an area park and hold hands while you circle the rink. If you live in a more temperate climate, get out those bikes and make a plan to try every trail in town. Biking out of the question? Go for long walks – and again, don’t forget to hold hands! For intellectual stimulation, find a church in your area that provides a Bible study. Is there a museum in your area that you would like to visit? Give them a call and find out if they offer an evening of free admission.

If dinner out at a restaurant is too expensive, I know a nice little place. When times were tough, Mike and I scheduled a romantic dinner for two after the children were in bed. We ate in the dining room with the good dishes and candles burning, soft music playing in the background.

Our children knew this was a special evening for the two of us and seemed to enjoy being part of the planning by setting the table, getting ready for bed quickly and enjoying their own special treat or snack before bed. Sometimes we arranged a romantic dinner for nine several days later, again using the good dishes, lighting the candles, music – the whole “nine” yards.

Mike and I still work on reprioritizing. When our children were younger, we worked hard at allowing time for each other. With only two children still living at home you would think that we’d have a great deal of time together. I hate to break the news to many of you, but things just don’t seem to slow down.

I mentioned to Mike that we really have to fit time together into our schedule. His first

response—When? The point is that this time will not surface in our lives by itself. Our lives have not slowed down and probably won’t. It’s time we used the gift certificate that has been sitting by the clock before it expires. Time to see that movie we’ve wanted to see before it is no longer in theaters and the video store no longer even considers it a “new release.”

Mike and I have also reinstituted our romantic dinners for two at home. Now that the children stay up later than we do, we have to enforce the “do not disturb “policy. Set one day each week aside for each other. Spend your time learning more about each other. Keeping up you friendship is vital to a healthy marital relationship and strong family life.

This article was originally published in 1998.

Parent For Two Generations: The Sandwich Generation

I find that I am slowly making my way upward in the familial social strata. I am no longer one of the “younger set’ with parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents to observe and applaud graduations, new jobs, weddings and births of children. Not quite the “older set”, I am part of what is called “the sandwich generation”, those sandwiched between aging parents who need care or help and their own children. Social experts tell me that there are many changes I must navigate, many responsibilities that overlap and threaten to overload me.

Experience is showing me that with God’s help, this time can be one of great peace and abundant blessings. At one time I thought the feeling of responsibility would magically disappear as my children attained the age of maturity and moved on (I had 18 in mind and now realize my naiveté). Instead today, young people are remaining in the family home for years after completing college, waiting until they are older to marry, or even returning home after they have left because of unemployment or even divorce. At the same time, our parents are living longer and dealing with the challenges of the sometimes-formidable obstacles in health care and living situations and depending on their children for help. Add into the equation grandchildren and a desire to help with their care, the increased employment of women who tend to be the primary caregivers, and life can get a bit hectic.

I was blessed with a mother that was a bastion of wisdom and understanding. When my life changed to include a husband and then a child, she was a constant source of support without being interfering. I could call her for a recipe or for advice on treating a sick child. I remember as a young wife complaining about something my husband Mike had said or done and she stoutly defended my side of the argument. To tell you the truth, that was the one and only time I did that, because all of a sudden to my amazement, I became very protective of my husband! A subtle change in allegiance here. As my family and my experience in becoming a good wife and mother grew, our positions changed even more. We were now equals of a sort, friends. She now occasionally called me for a recipe or just to talk.

When my father died, I found myself, along with my siblings, in a new role. We did all we could to help my mother cope with his death by increasing our visits and phone calls, helping her make adjustments and changes in her life, pulling her even closer into our family life, encouraging her to develop interests and social ties without her husband of 47 years. I felt some of the pride in her that I did with my own seven children as they overcame adversity and asserted their independence.

Some 10 years later my mother was battling ovarian cancer, coping with chemo and radiation. Her illness spiraled downward at a very busy time in my life. Our son Patrick was married in October. Mom attended the grooms’ dinner but much to her disappointment had to be rushed to the hospital the morning of Pat and Mary’s wedding. After church, the wedding party went directly to Mom’s hospital room, video tape in hand. This was family, and you just do what you have to do! By Thanksgiving she was not improving from cancer surgery and we were told by the hospital that she would be moved to a nursing care facility the next day. We decided very quickly that she would go to a facility near me, since I did not work out of our home like my other siblings and could spend more time with her. She was there only two days when she tearfully begged to return to her home. This was impossible because of her very weak condition and bleak prognosis for recovery, so after talking it over with my husband Mike and prayers for guidance, we asked her if she would want to come and stay with us. We quickly shuffled the furniture in our dining room, arranged for a hospital bed and visiting hospice nurses, and she gratefully moved in.

At this same time our 21 year old married daughter was expecting twins and facing the very likely possibility that one or both of her babies would not survive. They suffered from a condition called Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome a defect of the placenta of identical twins where the blood supply to each baby is affected by the intertwined blood vessels of the placenta, one getting too much blood which puts life-threatening stress on the cardiovascular system and one getting too little and suffering from severe anemia. Unlike some infants with TTTS, they were not candidates for surgery. While our two year-old grandson, Richard, spent his days with me and his great-grandma, Mike drove Laura to the hospital each morning for a float in the hospital pool (an experimental treatment doctors hoped would increase the oxygen supply to her babies). After several hours of monitoring before I picked her up and brought her home to rest on the living room couch where she visited with her grandmother in bed in the adjoining dining room. In the evening Laura and Richard returned to their own home. So much suffering in one house and yet there was an aura of peace. We developed a busy but steady routine. Mom seemed quite happy to be in the center of activity of our large family just as she had when she was strong and healthy. She jokingly called herself “the hub”.

I attended very early daily Mass and brought Mom the Eucharist each morning. The hospice nurse visited during our quiet morning and helped me tend to her needs. Occasionally we welcomed guests when she felt up to visiting. Grandson Richard crawled up on great-grandma’s bed for a ride and to share a sucker. At this time Steve was away in college and would soon return for the holidays. Katie, 16, and Dan, 10, were busy with school, kissing their grandma goodbye each morning as they went out the door and eagerly visiting with her when they returned home. Our older children checked in frequently to see how their grandma was doing. I cooked Mom’s favorite foods chatting with her through the kitchen doorway, but she was able to swallow only a small bite. Her nightlight was our Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. I still recall its’ beauty as we prayed the rosary in its sparkling light each evening.

Eventually it became evident that Mom would not recover from her cancer. One particularly difficult morning, I tearfully asked my Mother if she would offer her suffering to our Lord for Laura’s babies, imploring His tender mercy. I didn’t realize that she understood so well the seriousness of her illness. She replied, “I will die for those babies.” St. Paul spoke of his own suffering in Colossians 2:24: “Now I rejoice in my suffering for your sake and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the Church." Of course, there could be nothing lacking in Christ’s suffering except our participation. We are able to unite our sufferings to His through our union with Him in His Mystical Body. The Catholic Catechism tells us: “On the cross Christ took upon himself the whole weight of evil and took away the “sin of the world,” of which illness is only a consequence. By his passion and death on the cross Christ has given a new meaning to suffering: it can henceforth configure us to him and unite us with his redemptive Passion.” (No. 1505) This manner of looking at suffering gave her life new purpose.

How did we manage? How did life go on smoothly with what looked like confusion in our lives? I can only attest that our lives were very peaceful and grace-filled with Mom in our home. My brother and sisters came frequently to visit our mother and to enable us to grocery shop, visit with friends, attend our children’s’ Christmas programs. Their concern for her and for our family, especially me as her main caregiver, kept me strong and healthy and able to face each day. My husband Mike was incredibly supportive, listening to my fears, reassuring me when I felt I was not doing enough for my mother, helping with her care, checking at night to see if she was all right, helping to lift her from her bed when necessary. I, my siblings, as well as my own family learned that dying is just a part of life, a moving on to a different plane and that we are all in this together.

We experienced the miraculous birth of Laura’s twin girls Annie and Bridget at just 29 weeks on January 13, 1997. Annie weighed just one pound, six ounces. This tiny, perfectly formed little girl sat in the doctor’s hand and breathed on her own. Our beautiful Bridget, weighing 2 pounds, twelve ounces, was placed on a ventilator because of the stress on her cardiovascular system. Mom was overjoyed that they were alive but was afraid to even look at the videos we brought from the pediatric intensive care unit. The frailness of her great granddaughters terrified her. She fingered her rosary in constant prayer. Sister Annabelle of our parish brought the Eucharist each day since I was now unable to leave her, and Mom received the Anointing of the Sick from our parish priest. Bridget was removed from the ventilator and was breathing on her own on January 20th in the afternoon. We told my mother this good news as her breathing became more labored and she no longer opened her eyes. I was able to lead my siblings and husband and children in prayer around her bedside. With the help of a wonderful book by Kathy Kalina , BSN and certified hospice and palliative nurse (CHPN), entitled Midwife for Souls, I was able to help guide my own mother into her New Life. Mom died on the evening of January 20th encouraged by our prayer, “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me. To the one who conquers I will give a place with me on my throne, just as I myself conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne.” (Rev. 3:20-21)

As with all aspects of family life there is constant change, enormous difficulties to face, incredible joy to share, births into this world, births into the next. When a family depends on God and one another, these changes become a part of life. Sociologists advise us in ways to deal with many of the pressures of this middle generation in an effort to help us to balance the needs of our dependent children, our own needs and that of our elders. They encourage us to gradually try to lessen our children’s dependency on us as they finish college, encourage us to revitalize our marriages and make time for each other, reevaluate careers and responsibilities in the home, and to set goals. But, I guess what it gets down to is that we are “family” and we do what we have to do. I have to add here that our relationships with our parents are all different and because of personality differences not every experience is idyllic.

Whatever the circumstances, our sandwich generation has a responsibility to our parents or other elders in our extended family. It is our responsibility and privilege to take care of them and to make sure they know they are treasured and loved. Many of us will have the great privilege of acting as midwife to their souls, helping to complete the circle of life, teaching our own children to take their place in that circle too, to see aging and death not as a horror looming ahead, but as another transition. Being a member of the “sandwich generation” is a privilege and an honor. With the responsibilities of a generation below to parent and the care of the generation above comes the joys and blessings of being part of God’s perfectly ordered societal unit – the family.

The Holy Family with St. Anne (detail)
by Peter Paul Reubens

Holy Innocents

In December, all over the world, creches are set up in our living rooms and churches. The figures of Mother Mary, Joseph and the little Christ Child in his manger with arms outspread to all mankind help us to remember why we celebrate Christmas, the day our Savior was born into the world. His birth is momentous. Angels fill the sky worshiping. A sense of peace fills our hearts and souls as we celebrate this great miracle that took place 2000 years ago in a little town far away. As the Christmas season progresses, we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany. In our manger scenes three kings travel from far countries to give homage.

But as we enter the New Year, we read a little farther in the Book of Matthew and find Jesus and His Mother and Father fleeing to Egypt at the command of the angel. Herod is angered because he cannot locate the prophesied King and commands the massacre of the little boys two years and younger in the vicinity of Jerusalem trying to eradicate one small little baby who is King of Heaven and Earth. A sense of horror now pervades as the cruel King Herod shatters the peace. As we enter the New Year, 2009, thousands of years after this horrible event, we must come face to face with the fact that we are still contending with the slaughter of Holy Innocents in abortion.

Why does this sin continue to plague us? Why does mankind continue to devalue human life? There is no greater gift than the gift of life. On New Years Day we will watch the evening news welcome the babies born on this first day of the year, see them held up in their pink and blue blankets, with sleepy eyes, tightly clenched little fists, in the arms of parents who are overcome with joy at their arrival. After the holidays, business will return to normal. Abortion centers all over this country will reopen for business as usual. Where have we gone wrong? We human beings have been given the great privilege and joy of co-creating with our God. Man and woman and Creator share in the creation of new life—another human being, the summit of the Creator’s work (CCC 343).

Maybe that is part of the problem today. We do not see ourselves as God’s greatest bodied creation or maybe not His creation at all. Maybe we see ourselves evolving from some great cosmic explosion and accidentally evolving. Maybe we see ourselves as just one more group of mammals, equal to the seals and whales and puppy dogs; or, maybe not quite as valuable as even those species. The ageless struggle for respect for human life also goes on. Our beloved and stalwart Catholic Church has always upheld this truth and will continue to do so. Her people cannot rest on the achievements of the past few years. They could be gone in a minute or a signature on a bill. The struggle is not for the young alone, it is for all ages. Some will be able to carry a sign or pray the rosary before the abortion clinic. Some will write letters to newspapers. Some will give their time and money to pro-life groups working tirelessly to turn the tide of abortion. Some will call and write their legislators and even the president of this great country, hurt and suffering from the deaths of its’ Holy Innocents.

All of these are vitally important. But, the struggle will be won by those warriors who fall to their knees asking their God for forgiveness for mankind’s sin, who pray constantly for an end to this modern day slaughter. It will be won by the men and women and children at Sunday Mass, at daily Mass, in the Eucharistic Chapel. Our religious men and women on their knees, cloistered in prayer, from morning to night, will win it. “For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens. Therefore, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to resist on the evil day and, having done everything, to hold your ground. So stand fast with your loins girded in truth, clothed with righteousness as a breastplate, and your feet shod in readiness for the gospel of peace. In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield, to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." (Eph. 6:12-17)

This is the struggle that will determine our future. It will not rest on how many banks or auto companies we rescue with our trillions of dollars. We can’t be tired. We can’t despair. We can’t rely on someone else. Young and old must take up the banner of life. “With all prayer and supplication, pray at every opportunity in the Spirit.” (Eph.6:18)

Baby in the Womb
by Dan Lacey

From Dust To Resurrection

The search for the fountain of youth has not abated. If we turn on the TV, or pick up our favorite magazine, we are inundated with the many ways and methods of staying young forever. We are encouraged to buy a new face cream to “activate our youth proteins”. We hear how a glass of wine each day can extend our lives (true, we may also hear the next day about how it will speed our untimely demise.) We are encouraged to get rid of wrinkles with creams and lotions or even Botox injections, color our hair, grow back hair that has fallen out, tone up, and lose weight to look younger, take a certain vitamin or supplement to prolong our life. We are instructed on how to dress in a youthful fashion, and don’t forget the youthful appearance of white teeth. The little cross of ashes on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday, on the other hand, reminds us. “Remember man that thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return.”

Lent is a good time to come to terms with the fact that we will all age and ultimately die. Our Church reminds us each year during Lent beginning with Ash Wednesday to keep our eyes on the real prize – Heaven. Keeping our bodies healthy and strong for a good run while we are here is certainly important in that our bodies were created by God and we are responsible for taking care of them. But, ultimately, it is our souls that demand the greatest care and should be taken care of and kept in tip-top shape. I do have to admit that I stand in awe of my peers that still run marathons. I am impressed with their energy, physical ability, and prowess. But I am more in awe of friends that have made their faith lives a priority (some have managed to accomplish both). They have made it a habit to get up for daily Mass, spend time in the Eucharistic chapel before Our Lord. They have framed their day in prayer, and even as they go about their daily activities have their hearts and minds on God. They emanate a quietness and peace that is sometimes missing in my life.

The day will come for all of us when our life on earth will end. Our bodies will be left here on earth and will be returned to dust. Our souls will live on. I have to admit one concern in this regard. We must not forget our brothers and sisters in Purgatory, that state of final purification that will cleanse our souls before they see God. Many people of other faiths believe that once we die we are immediately united with God, with no need to pray for the deceased. Our Catholic Catechism teaches: “All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven”. CC1030. I recall hearing one particularly stirring homily at a funeral Mass where the faithful were firmly admonished to continue to pray for the deceased’s soul in purgatory. I remember glancing around a church packed with mourners and thinking how very happy this good woman must be to know that all of these people would continue to pray for her even after her earthly suffering had ended. When we suffer the loss of a loved one, we are left bereft and in sadness.

But, we must not let our loved ones be forgotten at their deaths. Their souls are still in existence and entering a new phase. We believe that they enter a place or state of purification before they come before God. We share a deep kinship with our departed loved ones. Death does not diminish that kinship nor remove our responsibility to those who have died. We can and must help them through this time of purification with the offering of our sufferings, our prayers, and our almsgiving. In turn, they (who so well remember the many trials and circumstances of their own lives on earth) can help us with their prayers and sufferings. Listen carefully at Mass to the Eucharistic prayer: “Remember our brothers and sisters who have gone to their rest in the hope of rising again; bring them and all the departed into the light of your presence.” There is no better way to pray for our beloved deceased than remembering them at Mass. Look up and see them near you, kneeling in prayer, heads bowed. I recall a moment many years ago, I knelt at Mass during the Eucharistic prayer, remembering my departed father. For just a moment I could feel him near me, kneeling in the pew. He wore his green winter parka, he knelt with his back resting on the bench, head down. He held a song book. I could hear him singing.

The Mystical Body of Christ is real. We who are baptized are all members. Death does not remove us from life in that Mystical Body or connection to each other. Just as our Easter liturgical celebration of Christ’s Resurrection begins after our sacrificial time of Lent, so will we and those we love enter into the presence of God after our time of purification in Purgatory. “We believe that the souls of all who die in Christ’s grace…are the People of God beyond death. On the day of resurrection, death will be definitively conquered, when these souls will be reunited with their bodies.” (CC1052) We will all die no matter how hard we try to turn back the years. But, there is a greater prize to be won, Heaven. We need to keep our souls in shape for this great race, our eyes on this great prize. As St. Paul says, “Race to win.” (I Cor. 9:24)

My Father, Jim Morley
by my sister, the artist Peggy Selander

A Week With The Grand-kids

We took five of our grandchildren (ages 5 to 13) to the lake for a week – well, nearly a week. We had a great time and in one sense I hated to see the week come to an end. In another sense, I felt relief when we’d successfully turned them over to their parents in one piece! My grandma-sitting motto is “I keep them alive – not clean!”

Our short exclusive time with the grand-kids helped me remember the great times we had parenting our seven children. Sometimes I look back and wish we’d done things a little differently: corrected one more or less, listened more intently, had more “one on one” time with each of them. Maybe I could have exercised more patience, inspired them to greater feats, taken them to daily Mass on a regular basis, and on and on. Parental hindsight is a real downer. But, living with the grand-kids that week brought back some great memories. They squealed and cavorted through the small cabin, spilled juice on the rug, requested very specific sandwiches for lunch (with butter, without, with mayo, plain bread, bologna, turkey, ham, cut in four pieces…). I patiently dealt with reasonable requests, smiled at their boisterous antics, and thanked God for each of them. I remembered doing those very things in the past.

I remembered the days of what I like to call “protecting my turf”—teaching our children to respect our home, to pick up toys, to refrain from jumping on furniture, to take off those muddy shoes, and just monitoring the traits of a “pack mentality”—that rambunctious, daring, unbridled behavior when two or more children are gathered together. I recalled a “gifted sense”—a marvelous ability given mothers from our Heavenly Father to know when one child needed a hug, words of praise for a job well done, encouragement, or correction. I remembered sacrificing mightily for Catholic school tuition and living faith filled lives for them to emulate. We filled their lives with love (and sometimes just toleration of each other). Mike and I hugged and kissed one another in the kitchen, often with a baby in our arms and little ones struggling to squeeze between us. Our excursion with the grand-kids to Park Point in Duluth to swim in Lake Superior’s icy 3-foot waves (the children and grandpa, I held down the beach blanket) helped me recall our many camping adventures with our children, the joy we experienced when showing them the beauty of the woods, rivers, and mountains that God created and teaching them to appreciate all of nature.

We all profited from roughing it a bit in a tent, carrying our water to the campsite, cooking over a fire or camp stove, even experiencing the trials of the outdoor facilities. I also remembered my apprehensions when they climbed the rocks in the Black Hills of South Dakota or Colorado Rockies. I recall stifling my fears for their safety so they could bravely face the world and experience life to the fullest. Ultimately that is our goal. We work to prepare our children for life here on earth and also eternal life.

We’d like to protect them forever from life’s bumps and bruises, but a time comes when they will not always listen to us or take our advice. They may choose not to be bound by our rules but will also have to deal with the consequences. We pray that they will make good, sound choices. We also pray that the consequences of poor choices will help them to learn and grow closer to God. We pray that they will embrace our faith, but know that faith is a gift that they will have to accept or reject on their own. When our children came to claim their own, I relished watching them playing in the lake with their children, helping fix their plates at dinnertime, tucking them into bed at night with special bedtime prayers. I experienced a bit of nostalgia, but it felt good to sit back and let someone else do the work

. Now, I concentrate on praying for each of them, for safety, for health, for happiness, but mostly that they will embrace the Catholic faith that we tried so hard to lead them to and that their Heavenly Father will continue to draw them to Him. One of the bonuses of raising a family is seeing our children raise their own. We can sympathize with their fatigue, share their laughter, support them as they face the same challenges we did when we raised them. Sometimes we may even hear our very own words emanate from their mouths. We weren’t always perfect, but we surely did try, and we had to keep them clean too!

With the whole crew, summer, 2009

I See Love

If you’d asked me last week “How are things going?” it would have taken a bit of time to fill you in and I’d have rattled on about the broken springs in my car, the inconvenience of air travel, and general difficulties of living in the sandwich generation. But, I’ve had some time to reflect, and I would have to answer that in the past couple of months, I have experienced profound love.

The struggles of life tend to keep me pretty occupied, but the Holy Spirit lately has given me a gift that we all have available for the asking – the ability to “see” love. I didn’t ask for this gift, didn’t know how helpful it would be (God must have figured I needed it), but I will certainly ask God to grant me this again and again, particularly when the chips are down and I need a little bucking up. Two new grandchildren came into this world, Grace and Max. Well, of course, you might say, who doesn’t love a new baby! But, I saw the intense love their mothers had for them before they were born and that got me to remembering the love I had for my own children from the moment I knew they existed. I saw their mother’s stroke their swelling tummies, express a deep knowledge and intimate communion with their little ones, and a longing to finally see them and teach them about love.

My father-in-law experienced a bad fall this past month, a difficult occurrence for a man of 94 years. Here again, at the farthest span of our time here on earth, the love shown him filled me with a sense that this is what our Father in Heaven had in mind when He created us. My husband and his brother and sisters took over the supervision of his care, sat by his bedside after his surgery for hip replacement, held his hand, helped him to eat, calmed him, cheered him, laughed with him, wept for him. Our children, and nieces and nephews flocked to their grandpa’s side to visit, to spend the long nights with him as their parent’s slept, recharging for another day. He is doing pretty well now, still in a transitional nursing home, still deluged with the love of his children, grandchildren and great grand children. Grandpa, for his part, even in times of great stress, worried that there were not enough chairs for everyone in his small hospital room. Even in his drug induced state he talked of borrowing $6 from one grandson to send out for hamburgers to feed his guests. Oh, this is love, and this family has had his example of love for generations. Thank you, grandpa.

During this time that grandpa’s life hung in the balance, our 7 children called daily (that’s a lot of phone calls!) to see how he was and how we were doing. They knew their dad was spending many hours with grandpa before, during and after work and they were concerned for him too. We felt so incredibly blessed and wrapped in caring arms every time the phone rang.

I saw love in the Eucharistic chapel the other night. There you go again, you say, of course! But, this was in a new way for me. Without a doubt, Love Himself is in the small dimly lit chapel. But a person came in, positioned himself in the front row and from his rapt attention and the movement of his lips (no sound) I could see that he was in deep conversation with Jesus. He listened, he answered, he smiled, raised his hands, perhaps conceding a point. I tried not to watch this man in his private conversation with God, but realized that I was gifted to witness this human exchange between man and Love that we often are not privy to nor can we totally comprehend. I was able to realize a little more fully that God is present there.

I went to Texas for several days to see and hold baby Max (and help out a bit), and I missed my husband. When I talked to him on the phone, I was reminded of our courting days some 43 years ago. We’d run out of things to talk about and didn’t want to hang up the phone, couldn't bear to break the connection. I remember thinking when we married that I could not love him any more than I did at that time. Silly child, our love just grows and grows and now I know that married life is a journey in love. As creatures created by Love in the intense love exchange of the Holy Trinity, we are fashioned in the image of our Creator. We are created to love. We flourish in it. We are at our very best when we love and, we see the best in others when we recognize their capacity to love and the ways they show it.

As Christmas approaches and our families gather to celebrate the birth of Love Himself, I think often of those who are no longer with us on earth, my Mom and Dad, Grandparents, etc. I remind myself that love “endures all things” 1Cor.13:7 – even death. At Mass, during the Eucharistic Prayer, I feel the love of those who have passed from this world and exist in the perfect love of God, still loving me, even more intensely than they were capable of here on earth. May you “see” love this Christmas season in family and friends and may you “be” love to all you meet. May your Christmas season be filled with love and the knowledge that this “loving” is what life is all about. (Grandpa is in the nursing home and doing well. Sometimes he is reliving in the past and sometimes sharp as a tack! His family visit often and husband Mike takes him a donut every morning.

He is teaching us love and compassion and the value of every life!

Grandpa Edmund Gaida

The Robbery

I was driving from Walmart to Target on a Monday afternoon hoping to get the last of my errands done when my cell phone rang. We’d been robbed! I’d left home mid morning and #4 son stopped over around 1:30 p.m. to pick up some mail. He saw the upturned drawers on the sofa and the dominoes spilled out of the open closet door and at first thought I was reorganizing. Then he spotted the broken front window. He called the police, then called me, and waited for me to get home. I think he may have been expecting me to arrive in tears and very upset. I was grateful that he had taken charge and was prepared to pick me up off of the floor. But, I took it very calmly, thinking maybe, that we really didn’t have much of value (unless the thief was a seamstress, I have a thing about my sewing machine!)

The friendly and efficient police woman commented on my mental state also. She mentioned that usually someone in a household that has been robbed reacts with a little hysteria. Mike came home from work and was his usual calm self. But then, daughter #3 dropped by to pick up a book on her way home from work and filled the bill for a little hysteria and indignation.
We walked through the house with the two police officers. I was pleased to see I’d cleaned the kitchen that morning, but a little chagrined when we got to the bedroom to see that I’d not made our bed (a very unusual state of affairs, I must emphasize) and they were taking pictures! The drawers of my dresser were dumped on the bed and floor. The floor was strewn with baby teeth. Before the officer started to search the house for the rest of the bodies (I’ve read enough mysteries to know that’s the next step), I explained that these were merely the teeth the Tooth Fairy had recovered from under the pillows of my seven children over the years. No self-respecting, overly nostalgic Tooth Fairy would just dispose of them!

Sure enough my little Weight Watcher record books that were carefully hidden under the scarves in the right hand top drawer were strewn on the floor also. I hope our burglar looked them over carefully and whispered a grateful prayer that he hadn’t run into this bruiser on his outing! Daughter #3 remarked that our burglar had a lot of nerve tramping up the stairs past the 4 foot high statue of St. Joseph with Baby Jesus in his arms which has resided on the landing for the past 20 years. She also found it humorous that our burglar had to sort through rosaries, prayer books, holy cards and bottles of holy water to find the loot. I didn’t think we had anything of value, and to tell the truth, most of the value was in memories: the gold chain Mike gave me for our 35th wedding anniversary, my grandma’s engagement ring, the earrings daughter #2 gave me when she had barely enough money to pay her bills. All were gone, along with miscellaneous trinkets of adornment.

Several days before the incident, I’d cajoled husband Mike into taking his top bureau drawer, which burgeoning with “stuff” no longer shut completely, into the back room for some house cleaning. He’d spent a good deal of time organizing, disposing of junk and had put the drawer to right. One could now readily see just what he had and just what he treasured arranged in neat compartments. Mike’s grandpa’s old, scratched railroad watch was taken. It no longer worked and was worn smooth from his hardworking hands. We felt sad about that loss, but you know what? We had and have these wonderful people in our lives, such blessings, much better than trinkets. I don’t think, however, Mike will ever clean another drawer again.

God gave us the grace to see this whole mess as unfortunate, but not worth a minute’s worry or tears. They are just things and we can’t take them with us to Heaven. It’s funny though, every once in awhile, I will open the drawer that held my grandma’s ring and wonder if it could have somehow been overlooked by the burglar, or vacuum the floor still keeping an eye out for an item I miss. But, like so many things that intrude in our days, I have to once again lift this package of regrets up to the Lord and remind myself that it really doesn’t matter. I expect I may have to do this again and again.

So, there is good that came out of the incident. I always make my bed now. Mike no longer cleans drawers (this is a good for him only). We have been reminded that possessions on this earth are nice, but really of no value in our pursuit of Heaven. We have also been reminded once again that God loves us and protects us and has given us a sense of humor to look at this whole mess as an interesting story. I also harbor the thought that our burglar is feeling very guilty and sorry for his sins and wishes he had taken one of my rosaries instead!

Next time, maybe this?

Singing Out With the Voice God Gave Us

I’m not sure when I learned that I could not “carry a tune in a bucket” but I must have been pretty young. It was pretty well known in our family that Mary Ellen just couldn’t sing. I like to sing. It is something I just don’t do well so I truly appreciate people that sing out loud and strong.

I may have been traumatized in grade school when in second or third grade, the person sitting in the back of a row (that would be me) had to move up the row desk by desk and sing with each person, “Swinging in a swing, swinging up so high”. You can see that this affected me greatly if I can still remember the tune. High school wasn’t a great deal better. I avoided most singing, but the school song was a must, “Dear SJA” (St. Joseph’s Academy). I couldn’t make the high notes so I just worked on blending in. I’ve always been self-conscious about my singing. I sang when I rocked my babies---Peter, Paul and Mary tunes mostly--easy, mellow music. But, I only did it when no one was around and did worry a tad that my children would grow up “off-key” like their mother. Fortunately, all seven can sing fairly well, a couple of them very well indeed.

I need and am grateful for the people that sit around me in church and sing out with all of their hearts and voices. There are probably a few other people like me that are somewhat hesitant singers and need your strong voices to blend with and keep us on key. I also appreciate those gifted people that are able to “take it down an octave” when the piece is very high- pitched. I tend to squeak on high notes.

Our voices are such wonderful gifts, whether we sing well or just sing with the voice God gave us. They are beautiful musical instruments designed by the Creator to praise Him. The blending of voices filling the high places at Sunday liturgies is a delight to Him. Our songs are prayers. In them we praise our Father and sing of the wonder of His created world, offer thanksgiving to Him, ask His mercy and forgiveness. They help us to reflect on the seasons of His Holy Church.

“While the soft sweet sounds flow into the ear, says St. Augustine, divine truth should gently steal into our hearts”. (Bishop Frederick Knecht: Practical Commentary on Holy Scripture.) The hymns of our Church reflect its’ beliefs and truths. Many contain scripture passages that we will recognize as we read or study scripture. Read the Psalms of David in your Bible and search for phrases you have sung in hymns and songs. Some favorite hymns will tell a story, whisking us away to a clear, cold night in Bethlehem, perhaps.

Thank you to all of those talented musicians who sing in our church choirs. Your gift of voice is given to Him and multiplied a thousand fold as the congregation joins you in song. For those of us in the pews, as our beautiful Christmas liturgies approach, we should prepare ourselves to sing the songs of joy and praise with full voices, joining with His choirs of angels and all of His people (even those of us who are a little off key).

Alma Mater: "Dear SJA"

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