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awareness of the present moment

I need to rearrange my life to make more room for my writing; including this blog. More and more days are going by between posts. I could keep beating myself up over this. (I’m good at that!). Instead, I’m going to see it as a fresh start. The first step is to stay on an almost daily routine. I find that this helps. Writing is very much like exercise. It’s far too easy to lose the rhythm once you step off the tread-mill!

So, some days will be the longer commentaries that I love doing. Other days may be just a nudge to check out writings from others.

Recently, I had to upgrade my WordPress account to rid my blog of unwanted ads. A bonus with the upgrade was the ability and extra memory space to post videos. A good friend emailed this to me. It’s a timely and spot on reflection for all of us as we drag ourselves through daily routines, tedium, and frustrations. A description and background to the video can be found here.

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Brother Richard Joyal, SM

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I wrote an article about our dear friend Brother Richard Joyal for the Prairie Messenger. It was good to write about all the fond memories that we have of him – a life filled with such joy and generosity of spirit. The above photo was taken on a visit to our home a couple of years ago. (David is on the left and Richard on the right.)

The ache is still very much there. Every time I see a photo, think or talk about him I feel a great knot in my stomach and the tears start again. The deep grief is felt by all who were blessed to know him…and he was known and loved by many around the world.

His funeral and burial will be in Québec. A memorial mass to celebrate his life will be held in Winnipeg at 11:00 am, May 25 at St. Boniface Cathedral.

Brother Richard had a true missionary’s heart. He loved the world and all her people, relishing each and every new adventure he lived within his Marianist vocation. We can only imagine the joy he must now be experiencing in that glorious communion of saints; the greatest of all adventures and a joyous party for all eternity.

Brother Richard: a man with a true missionary’s heart

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when life dries up all words

dry earth

I was already behind on posting on this blog. Other writing commitments hung over my hand, and dead-lines demanded they not be ignored. Then life came to a halt with the news of a friend’s death in Haiti. I had spoken to him on Skype just the day before, or at least we had tried to talk. He could see and hear me. I could see him but not hear him. We tried to troubleshoot the connection for almost an hour, with no luck.

The next day, I was mundanely folding laundry thinking about calling him again. I turned the radio on to hear the hourly news. The lead story was about a Canadian priest killed in Haiti, and his name was announced. There must have been a mistake. Our friend was a religious brother, not a priest. I ran to the computer and saw the article on the internet; his ID cards strewn on the road for the world to see. His title en français is Frère, Brother, hence the assumption that he was Fr…a priest. His face stared at me from the ID photos.

I wrote a short blog post for the National Catholic Reporter about his missionary’s heart. I sent a column in to the Prairie Messenger, which will be published next week telling simple stories of the joy he shared with us all. We gathered with friends this weekend and shared many memories that brought tears of laughter…but the sad tears are never far behind.

I tried several times to write a reflection for this blog. I wrote the previous blog post to take my mind off things and to get back into a routine.

I want to share the story of my friend with you, but have no words left. Maybe later.

My blogging friend Marilyn over at Communicating Across Boundaries wrote a beautiful piece this week that speaks to my mind, heart and soul…

A Holy Ache

…That ache we feel when we read or hear the news and our hearts stop with the horror of it all, the longing to make all right, to gather up all the orphans, the widows, the sinners and show them the love of God. The holy ache that acknowledges we are capable of so little in comparison to the great need. That ache we feel when we are at a funeral of one we love, knowing we will never see their faces, hear their words, hug their bodies again. That ache we feel when the rich thrive and mock while the poor struggle to survive. That ache we feel of injustice and wrong and all those things that remind us we are in the between.

It used to be that the holy ache would direct me to despair. It’s all too much, I thought. It’s too hard.Seeing through a glass darkly is not enough. But lately I have embraced the holy ache as an integral to my faith journey. A critical part that brings me to a greater love and desire for Godread more

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the macro and micro moments of life

toys

My days are often spent juggling my mind between the macro and micro aspects of life. Hours are spent on international tasks for the leadership team I work for. Each day I read emails and newsletters from around the world. I try to keep up with current affairs and church news to keep on top of my writing commitments. Time at the dental office with hubby means re-focusing on different, more local issues but with their own set of worries and stresses.

But, the best-est days of all are when I find myself plunked down on the carpet with my grand-babies! Today was one of those days. Grammy was on baby-sitting duty and all other jobs were flung aside. It was a micro kind of day; a chance to focus on the small miracles placed before us; the grandeur of God reflected in the joyful energy and small accomplishments of little people. Who would have thought that navigating a spoon of yogurt to your mouth could bring such delight?

With the arrival of our grand-daughter and the addition of her new brother, our house is slowly accumulating the glorious colors of toys. OK, I’ve developed an addiction and use any shopping trip as an excuse to check out toy aisles and children’s book sections, “for when the kiddies come to visit”! The wonderful, old school toys in this pic were an Ikea find. I’ll be picking up the wooden train set next time. ;-)

In the midst of battery powered gizmos, electronic bells and whistles and over-commercialized characters, these toys are a stand-out. Just picking up the blocks floods the mind and heart with memories.

Watching a young soul at play is priceless….but Grammy wants a turn now!

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and my papal pick is….white smoke please!

Family and friends have been teasing me about heading to Rome to cast my ballot for the next pope. Oh, if only!!! I have to confess, that the church nerd in me would LOVE to parade into the Sistine Chapel and be part of the excitement. I look really good in red – my favorite color since childhood. And, who doesn’t like the opportunity to wear a deliciously frilly frock and hat! ;-)

Since that honor and privilege has been denied me, I’ll cast my vote here on this blog with a true spirit of transparency and openness. Let the bells ring out and the white smoke rise… My choice for the next Pontifex Maximus, the Vicar of Christ, the Bishop of Rome and the Servant of the Servants of God is…

Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle from Manila.

Archbshp Tagle

I first heard of Archbishop Tagle during the reports coming from the recent Synod for the New Evangelization. In the midst of pompous speeches about the evils of secularism and those nasty fallen away Catholics, he stood up and made a heartfelt call for more silence in our church.

“The church must discover the power of silence,” Tagle said. “Confronted with the sorrows, doubts and uncertainties of people she cannot pretend to give easy solutions,” he said. “In Jesus, silence becomes the way of attentive listening, compassion and prayer. It is the way to truth.”

It was announced during the synod that the pastoral and much-loved Archbishop Tagle would receive the cardinal’s hat in the upcoming consistory, which immediately sparked excited papabile musings.

John L. Allen Jr. wrote a Papabile of the Day piece on Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle for the National Catholic Reporter. Here are some excerpts from that article,

  • One Filipino commentator has said Tagle has “a theologian’s mind, a musician’s soul and a pastor’s heart.”…
  • Earlier this year, before the news of Benedict’s resignation broke, a Filipino business journal named Tagle its “Man of the Year,” describing him as “young, unassuming, and without airs,” a bishop “who more than understands contemporary ideas.”…
  • In the Imus diocese, Tagle was famous for not owning a car and taking the bus to work every day, describing it as a way to combat the isolation that sometimes comes with high office. He was also known for inviting beggars outside the cathedral to come in and eat with him. One woman was quoted describing a time she went looking for her blind, out-of-work, alcoholic husband, suspecting she might track him down in a local bar, only to find that he was lunching with the bishop….
  • Tagle’s doctoral dissertation at Catholic University, written under Fr. Joseph Komonchak, was a favorable treatment of the development of episcopal collegiality at the Second Vatican Council. Moreover, Tagle served for 15 years on the editorial board of the Bologna, Italy-based “History of Vatican II” project founded by Giuseppe Alberigo, criticized by some conservatives for an overly progressive reading of the council.

Our church has suffered for too long from a centrist form of governance. The current malaise in the curia is proof that reform is needed, a reform that embraces the need for collegiality and not a heavy handed, top-down style of leadership.

Our church needs a chief pastor who can speak to the heart of the faith, who can excite crowds with his homilies and speeches – not bore them to death. The new evangelization is not about proclaiming dogmas and identifying evils. It is about reflecting a faith that is first and foremost a relationship with a living God. It is about reflecting the joy in knowing Jesus, and embracing the mission to live the gospel message of peace and justice in the world.

Some say that Cardinal Tagle is a long-shot candidate, at least this time around. He is too young. He is possibly too “nice” to clean up the current mess at the Vatican. He doesn’t have the curial experience of older cardinals.

If we expect our pope to be super-human, then no one can dare to fill the shoes of the fisherman. But, the fisherman who filled those original shoes wasn’t perfect either. A man who believes in a collegial style of leadership will not be a micro-manager. He will surround himself with those who have the necessary talents for each task.

I remember too well that horrible, sinking feeling when Cardinal Ratzinger’s name was announced after the last  habemus papam. Granted, Benedict XVI was perhaps a kinder and gentler pope than he was cardinal, but I SO want the next pope to be someone we can be excited about. Give us a man who exudes faith, humility, a passion for justice, and intelligence. Give us a man who gives us hope and makes us proud to be Catholic once more. And, yes, give us a man with a great smile! :-)

Will the man who next steps out on the papal balcony produce a collective “meh!” around the world? Or, will he ignite a roar of excitement that will send the pigeons of St. Peter’s Square soaring for cover?

If Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle dons the papal whites, it will be the latter!

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Youth Day 2013 kicks off LA Congress with music, Mass | National Catholic Reporter

Youth Day 2013 kicks off LA Congress with music, Mass | National Catholic Reporter.

The annual Los Angeles Religious Education Congress is a huge event. I’ve never had a chance to attend it, but have many friends who do. It’s a mega networking opportunity for not only religious educators, but also catholic publications, liturgists, authors, musicians, artists, religious communities and vocation directors.

The good news of this congress is a blessed relief and much needed reminder of the life and joy present in our church.

Porsia Tunzi, over at NCR, has written a great article on Youth Day 2013  that opened the congress. The theme of this year’s Youth Day is worth embracing by us all – even (perhaps especially) us old folks!

KEEP CALM–GOD’S GOT THIS!

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he ain’t heavy

120828 2017 Griffin Tyler 1.jpg

On December 28th, The Winnipeg Free Press showcased its best pictures of 2012. This photo was taken by photojournalist Ruth Bonneville. She tells the story behind the picture,

He ain’t heavy…he’s my brother Griffin, 13, has been carrying his brother Tyler, who has cerebral palsy, ever since he can remember. In between school activities and playing hockey seven times a week, Griffin makes time to shovel Tyler’s wheelchair ramp, get him dressed in the morning, help prepare his breakfast and medications. On some occasions, he pulls him to school on a sled. This day I caught Griffin lifting him out of his car seat and briskly carrying him across the schoolyard so he could spend some time with him on the play structure before heading to class. When asked if he ever wished he didn’t have to do all this stuff for Tyler, Griffin’s eyes well up as he quickly replies, “No, I don’t, he’s my brother and I love him very much. I will do this for him any day. There is no other way to describe it.” I chose this image as my favourite photograph of the year because to me it’s a picture of pure love in action. – Ruth Bonneville

My Mama saved the newspaper clipping for me, and it now hangs on our fridge as a daily boost of inspiration.

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Yesterday, my daughter sent me this link to the Sports Illustrated Sportskids of the Year: Conner and Cayden Long. Nine year old Conner wanted to spend more time with his six year old brother, Cayden who has cerebral palsy. So, Conner decided to participate in triathlon competitions with Cayden. Together, they make up Team Long! Please take a few minutes to watch this video. The deep and profound wisdom and love that pours forth from Conner will leave you speechless.

A picture of pure love in action? You bet! Too often in my daily reading and watching of the news, I’m left feeling drained and sucked of all energy. Where is the compassion? Where is the basic human desire to reach out and give each other a hand? These young boys are proof that true goodness can and does exist. Their love gives us all hope.

(If, like me, you can’t read these stories without the song…. He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother by the Hollies)

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a new year of resolutions

No, this isn't me. It's the Microsoft clip art lady. Who looks this good when they're sick?

No, this isn’t me. It’s the Microsoft clip art lady. Who looks this good when they’re sick?

The New Year has begun, and resolutions are already mocking me in the rear view mirror.

Hubby and I had a marvelous Christmas holiday. Family time was relished; having all five children together is no longer taken for granted. The rarity of the moment adds to the value. The time together was short, but oh, so good.

The remainder of the week, we balanced visiting time with moments of glorious couch potato-ing. We finally saw the much anticipated Les Miserable movie (more to come), and powered through all our Christmas gift DVDs. (No, we don’t savour them. You can’t start a season and not watch ‘just one more’ episode!)

I purposely stayed away from my computer and writing, hoping to come back refreshed and eager to begin again. My first resolution, to be more disciplined and faithful in my writing practice, was side-swiped with a wretched head-cold on the first day our office re-opened. After slogging through the back-log of work, my stuffed head was in no mood for evening writing. All I had energy for was a hot bath, my new cozy bath-robe, and a hot toddy. And, another.

The head-cold has also side-swiped my second resolution, to return to a regular yoga routine. My shoulder-hunched, leg-twisted, neck-cocked, middle-aged body was rebelling. I turned to the computer (the main source of my ailments) for incentive. My daughter told me about an online Yoga program that she has been doing. She looks wonderful. Wanting to look as lithe and healthy as she, I subscribed to it. (My New Year’s delusion?) I’m now getting daily guilt messages in my email inbox asking why I haven’t taken any ‘classes’ yet!

I admit defeat…for now. I’m hoping to kick this cold to the curb this weekend. My ‘New Year’ and it’s resolutions will begin on Monday!

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intentional focusing

I was prescribed my first pair of progressive bifocal eyeglasses several years ago. All of a sudden, something that was natural had to be learned; the mere act of focusing! Friends assured me that with practice it would become second nature, but it was hard. Very hard!

Stepping on an escalator was terrifying. Walking into a big box store made me dizzy. I am used to them now, but if the glasses slip down my nose it takes a few moments of intentional re-focusing to see clearly again. My eyes no longer adjust effortlessly from near vision to far and back again.

I need the same intentionality in changing focus on the issues around me. Years ago, in the midst of a dysfunctional situation in our parish and diocese, I began to view all priests and bishops through the same dysfunctional lens. My parochial situation had colored my view of the universal church. I needed to refocus, to gaze outwards to seek reasons for hope.

Other times, I get so caught up in my international work and the issues in the greater church that I lose sight of the blessings right under my nose. I need to refocus, yet again, this time intentionally looking inwards.

Single vision is a curse of many discussion boards. Regardless of the topic being presented, some respondents stubbornly pull the conversation back to their own issue. Talking about inner-city poverty? Let’s bring up the sexual abuse crisis in the church. Just read an insightful piece describing the inner workings of the Vatican? Let’s bash the pope and all bishops. Read a news story about nuns standing up for social justice? Let’s fling hateful vitriol about liberal feminists.

The single vision curse is also at the root of an increasingly parochial view of the church and the world. Nationalistic pride is one thing. Refusing to look at the world outside of your borders is another. News of global importance seldom sets the response counter spinning like the newest scandal on our doorstep does. Check the numbers.

We need to exercise the full range of our vision. It’s easy to get stuck in either a near or far-sighted focus. It takes intentionality to look beyond our own issues. It takes intentionality to stop and listen to voices other than our own.

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black friday

National identity and pride is important to us all. Canadians are especially sensitive in this regard, since American culture has been slowly (and not so slowly) making its way north for decades. When I was a child, we had few American chains and name-brands in our towns and cities. Today, our retail centers are filled with American Big Box stores and restaurants, making it impossible to distinguish which country you are in.

The Canadian Thanksgiving Day continues to be celebrated in a more low key style in October. But, we have now inherited the madness that is Black Friday. Our own stores are promoting mega sales today in an attempt to keep Canadians from flocking across the border to snap up pre-Christmas bargains in the US.

The blogosphere is filled with commentaries denouncing the excesses and consumerism of Black Friday, even asking shoppers to boycott this day…and rightly so. Workers are being called in earlier and earlier from their Thanksgiving festivities to open stores and face the madness. Long lines of consumers camp outside for the prize of first grab at the bargains.

Our own Boxing Day has morphed into the same madness. No sooner has the wrapping been cleared up from the Christmas gluttony of giving, then folks are preparing for the December 26th sales. To call it madness is an understatement.

Now that our children are adults, I relish having them all around the table. It is a rare and much appreciated moment. I have children who work in essential services, and understand the commitment required by their chosen profession. Having to work on holidays is a reality that must be accepted. I also have children who worked in retail positions. Few employees are given the luxury of time off on Christmas Eve or Boxing Day. Traveling long distances to be home with family is a challenge or impossible.

I feel sorry for nurses, fire-fighters and police officers who must work on holidays. I get mad and disgusted  when store clerks are forced to do the same. When did shopping become an essential service?

What if all stores agreed to stay closed on Black Friday and Boxing Day? If we must have the madness, couldn’t we simply postpone the post-holiday sales by one day? Can’t we allow time for families to just BE?

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