Goats?

Another four a.m., another dream.  This one involved dogs, gangsters and the FBI and a whole lot of action, but it ended in an unexpected way.  What I am about to relay is mostly my dream but I’ve added details to better explain the feeling of the dream.  

Somewhere in all of that dog/gangster/FBI action dream I ended up in huge facility with hundreds of people.  Some were my friends and family members, but most were strangers.  We were being sorted into religious categories, not for eternity, but more for a game.  The room was long, like an airport terminal but not quite as massive.  The moderator stood near what I will refer to as the north end for lack of better explanation, and called for the true non-believers, the self-proclaimed Atheists, to form a group at the far north end of the room.  At that instruction the crowd began to stir and the Atheists made their way surely and proudly to their place.  The rest of the crowd began to shuffle their feet, unsure of what was to come, but many people raced to the far south of the room as if their eternal life depended on it.  Many others took off after them including some of my people. They ended up so far away they did not hear the rest of the instructions.

Some people were nervous and did not know what to do.  They started for the south side but lingered, waiting to see what everyone else would do.  Some stood firm, listening for further instructions. The moderator then asked for the righteous people to make a group in the middle of the room.  She described them as people who spouted a belief in God as a higher authority and considered themselves good people.  This group in the middle should be made up of people who attended a church and phrases like “God willing” and “Amen, brother” were part of their regular vocabulary.  This group would be people who comfort the sick, give to the poor, and keep the environment clean all in the name of what is right and just.  The middle of the room filled almost as quickly as the far north side of the room.

Then the moderator asked another group to form just slightly south of the middle.  She called for this group to be made up of people who did not define themselves as anything.  The people in this group did not profess any faith, did not believe strongly in any deity although they did not discard religion entirely. These were people who believed themselves enlightened because they did not bear the burden of a particular faith.  These were people who believed in themselves and what they could accomplish on their own.  Some people shuffled between the group in the middle and this group, unsure of where they fit best.

Finally, the moderator asked for the true Christian believers to make a group just north of the middle.  This group was the true believers, the children of God, the followers of Jesus who had no doubts of their faith and knew their place even though it was not always a comfortable place to be.  But they could not help but wonder why they were so close to the Atheists instead of being at the polar opposite side of the room.  Why were they being closely categorized with non-believers?

After the experiment was over I walked to the far south side of the room where that group was waiting.  They had retired to a small room off of the main corridor, almost like they were in hiding.  I knew people in this group and when I saw them I felt pity for them.  When they saw me they were relieved because they thought I had turned from my faith and taken a place at the wrong end of the room.  They had no idea it was all over because they were too far away to hear anything that had taken place.  This group was so sure of themselves as Christians that they did not take time to listen to the instructions.   They followed blindly and put their faith in other people instead of Jesus.  They thought they knew who they were and what they were but they were too far from the Truth to realize their misgivings.

So why were the true believers so close to the true non-believers?  I think it was because even Atheists have a stronger conviction in their lack of faith then some Christians have in their acknowledgment of their faith.  You can interpret it in your own way. 

Where was I in all of this?  That’s the curious part.  I know I wasn’t at the far north or far south ends.  I hope I ended up just north of the middle.  But honestly I think I was just an onlooker watching from a distance.  I may have even been the moderator.  It was only a dream, after all.  Just a normal, everyday- wake-you-up-and-make-you-write-it-down dream.  

Welcome to Lent.

Psst: Please don’t announce to the world what you are giving up, or the good deeds you are going to do during Lent.  You lose points that way, don’t you know?  Matthew has a lot to say about that in Chapter 6. Now might be a good time to read it.

Wisdom can sometimes be found in film

"A lot of people enjoy being dead. But they are not dead, really. They're just backing away from life. Reach out. Take a chance. Get hurt even. But play as well as you can. Go team, go! Give me an L. Give me an I. Give me a V. Give me an E. L-I-V-E. LIVE! Otherwise, you got nothing to talk about in the locker room.” - Maude

Yesterday was not a great day for me. I felt like if one more thing was asked of me, just one tiny thing more, I would run from the building and never look back. I shared these feelings with my good husband and luckily he had time to take me to lunch to give me a breather. Sometimes a short break can reset the entire day.  I was fine by the afternoon, but on my way home as I watched the ochreous shades of the sunset envelope the sky the high emotions of the day put me in a bittersweet mood that matched the colors in front of me.

Moments like that bring all of the sadness of my life to the surface and the train of thought that runs through my mind is more like a Japanese bullet train running at 200 MPH. Before I know it I’ve relived all of the losses of the last ten years in ten seconds or less and my face is inexplicably wet.

When I am faced with these thoughts, or when I hear of others experiencing similar melancholy I often think about one of my favorite movies, Harold and Maude. This quirky 1971 film about an unlikely romance has more lessons dealing with love and life in it than anything else I’ve ever seen or read. 
  

Harold is a troubled teen desperate for his mother’s love and affection. The only time he has ever seen love for him in her eyes was in a moment when she thought he had died.  When she discovers he’s alive her love turns to apathy and Harold lashes out by vindictively and repeatedly faking his own death in front of her in clever and dramatic ways.

He meets 79 year-old Maude while sitting in on his favorite pastime, funerals.  Vivacious Maude has lived an exciting and adventurous life full of love and passion.  She takes it upon herself to open Harold’s world and release the hurt that has crusted over his heart. She teaches him how to live and in the process a romance is kindled between them.

There are two scenes in the film that always come to mind whenever I am feeling hurt over a loss of a loved one.  The first one is a scene at an arcade.  Harold uses a stamping machine and makes a souvenir coin with the inscription, “Harold loves Maude”.  He presents it to her later when they are sitting by the water.  Maude reads it, smiles and says, “And Maude loves Harold.”  She kisses it and tosses it into the ocean.  Harold is shocked and begins to ask why and Maude says, “So I’ll always know where it is.”

That’s the way I feel about death.  The people I’ve loved are gone from my presence, but I find comfort in the knowledge that I always know there they are.  Where is that?  Here, right next to me.

The other scene, albeit a sad one, is when Maude is very ill and Harold is begging for her to find the will to live.  He pours his heart out to her and tells her he can’t live without her.  “I love you.  I love you”, says Harold, a young man who has never admitted love to anyone. Maude rests in her accomplishment of reaching Harold and responds, “Oh! That's wonderful, Harold.  Go - and love some more.”

Lesson? You might lose someone you love whether from death or disagreement, but you do not lose your ability to love. Love isn’t something you can lose.  It’s always there waiting to be shared. Love is infinite, like the God who gives it to us every moment of our breathing.  1 Corinthians can tell you more about this, but I’ll leave that to you to discover so you can at least say you opened the book.

At some point this weekend I plan to pop in the DVD and watch again. Join me if you can.

What thoughts come at 4 a.m.

Only recently have I begun taking the Precious Blood as a part of the Eucharist at mass.  Frankly, drinking from the same cup behind multitudes of people, many whom I heard coughing and sputtering just a few minutes before communion, never appealed to me.  It wasn’t until I let that all go and put my faith in the Eucharist that I was able to partake on a regular basis.  That is when my heart changed and I felt a need for it to make the Eucharist whole.

A gulp from the cup is not necessary.  A small sip will do just fine.  Unless, of course, you get a nod of encouragement from minister to please take more or else they may leave the church a little light-headed from having to consume the left-over.

This past Sunday I was one of the last in line, and when I was handed the cup I looked in and saw it was clean except for one last tiny drop.  I almost handed it back to the minister, but I remembered that every drop must be consumed so I tipped the cup back and took it.  That one drop of Precious Blood was as spiritually potent as if I had taken a gulp.  That one drop warmed my tongue and my throat as if I had drunk an entire glass full of wine.  That one red, tiny drop, barely enough to leave a stain on white silk, was enough to wrap me in the grace of Jesus and set me in His presence.

Every drop of blood Jesus shed was for a purpose.  The blood that flowed from the nail wounds in His hands and feet was for our sake.  The blood that streamed down his face and neck and matted in his hair from the piercing thorns on his mocking crown was to pave our way to heaven.  The blood that poured from the stab of the sword in His side consecrated those who would come to believe and follow Him to His father.

One drop, all sins, renewal, hope.  Follow.

Are YOU ready?

“Are you ready for Christmas?”  That’s the question I was asked on Tuesday by the nurse who was clasping a blood pressure cuff onto my wrist and placing my arm against my chest.  I gave a simple answer, “Yes, I think so.”  That was the simple answer because no one really wants to hear the complicated answer.

Am I ready for Christmas?  If that means do I have a tree up and decorations around my house, then yes, I am ready.  If it is another way of asking if I have shopped for gifts and have them wrapped and ready for giving, then yes, I am ready.  If the nurse wanted to know if I am ready for two weeks off work, and spending time with my OFTP, then the answer is heck yeah, you better believe I am ready.

If you stepped onto my porch and peered through the wreath on the door you would see a home so ready for Christmas that the only thing lacking is a plate of fresh cookies for Santa.  If you stepped into my body and peered into my soul you would see something completely different.  I am not ready for time that passes so quickly that one Christmas runs seemingly seamless into another.  I am not ready for my children to be so grown they will open their presents on Christmas morning and disappear into their own lives a few minutes later.  I am not ready for the disappointment that I will inevitable feel because no Christmas ever measures up to the way they use to be when I was a child or when my children still believed in magic.

I am not ready for the awkwardness of exchanging gifts, especially when my offerings are meager.  I am not ready for the floodgates of emotions to open and pour as they do at every Christmas Eve Mass when the souls of my dearly departed are remembered, especially on the one day of the year that makes me desperately miss my parents.  I am not ready for the feeling of emptiness that comes when all the guests leave and the day that so much preparation was made for fades into plain old December 26.

Last night I spent time with some of my favorites who are good, Christmas-loving people.  I hinted at my dispiritedness and was met with responses in agreement to my own feelings.  As I listened to stories about fallen Christmas trees and other angsts my guilt was gently assuaged in the knowing that I was not alone.

I waked before the sun this morning, and in the darkness I lit all of the Christmas lights I’ve scattered here and there. As I sit here in the warm glow of the shining trees my Christmas spirit is beginning to wake as well.  I plan to bake my family’s favorite cookies today, and that will make them happy, thereby increasing the level of joy throughout the house.  The spirit will grow even more tomorrow as my OFTP and I make our annual tour of the cemeteries that hold our loved ones.  That may sound like a depressing thing, but to us it is more of a comfort.

My level of readiness is growing as well.  I am ready for some time with my family - nuclear, extended and otherwise.  I am ready for good food and good cheer.  But mostly I am ready for the sense of spiritual renewal that comes with celebrating the birth of Jesus.  I am ready for the Gloria to return to Mass.  I am ready to welcome The Way, The Truth, and The Life.  I’m getting there, and with God’s hope I will arrive on time.