What I wanted and What I got. Ribs and blizzards.

I wanted snow. I wanted a white Christmas. Looks like I'm going to get them both. But what if I had known that to get snow meant I would not see family today. That December 23rd would be one more day of China Flu isolation. Flights cancelled. Loved ones who were 500 miles away are still 500 miles away when they should now be in my living room. 

They'll get here eventually, but not today. Right now I should be watching Georgia Southern and Louisiana Tech in the New Orleans Bowl with my son, or walking out on a frozen lake with my granddaughters. 

Yesterday it was 45 F and I was smoking ribs in my backyard. Today it is around 20, the wind is howling, and the snow is traveling horizontally. 

Had I known the tradeoff, and been given a  choice, I would have passed. 

But, a word on the ribs. When smoking in winter managing the heat in the smoker can be a challenge. We have a tendency to get the box too hot or too cold, especially when a good stiff wind accompanies the cold temps. yesterday I had temps as low as 150 and as high as 325, but close to that magical 200 most of the time.  

The seasoning. Allegro Marinade. The greatest marinade in the world. Generally I don't use them. I like to smoke meat with only salt and pepper and put my full skills on display, not mask them with sauces and rubs. "Let the meat speak for itself" I like to say. But every once in a while you need to do something different, so this time the ribs were marinated for 24 hrs in Allegro. 

Had the weather cooperated, my son and I would be watching that game while snacking on some leftover ribs. Instead, I've got em all to myself. Here's to silver linings behind the clouds of this blizzard!

Thursday morning 5am

The wee hours of the morning I cannot set aside. Cannot stay in bed. My favorite time of day. It is a perfect time to be outside for a run and it is an excellent period to just watch the world wake up. 

Early reactions to the news overnight, a death in Europe, an earthquake in Asia, the late night appointment of a soon-to-be-forgotten official, early market trading, the weather, the west coast sports scores. The first commuters roll east to the city. The sounds of night birds ebb and day birds build as the first dim glow changes the horizon from dark black to deep grey. 

I think about the day ahead and the day past. Things set aside and left undone. Loved ones snuggled in bed. The lost contact of an old friend. The name of a new one. The illnesses of the aged. The victories of the young. The remnants of yesterday's mail are strewn across a kitchen counter. The coffee pot wakes and whispers. 

Watching, praying, running, listening. Capturing the last stillness as my little clutch of dirt and stone in Minnesota wakes up. 

Advent in time of Pandemic

 What does Advent mean to us during a time of pandemic? Or perhaps a better question is, What is different about our celebration this year? Advent hasn't changed, but we have, at least a little. One year ago we were in the midst of the angst and cynicism of a presidential impeachment. That had an impact on our celebration, though it should not have. One year from now there will be some new thing to distract and detach us from the glorious tradition. 

Perhaps we cannot help but look at this time differently or in some new way. Despite the added free time on our hands I believe the temptation will be to think of the season less. There was something about the busyness of Christmas seasons past that made us want  to make sure that we did not leave out the Christ story and message. I sense that focus is missing this year. 

This Advent should be like all others. A time to contemplate the anniversary of the coming of Christ. A season full of reminders. The refreshing of the Church calendar. Immaculate Conception. St. Nicholas Day. The journey to Bethlehem. The colors and candles of the four Sundays. Midnight Mass. All pointing to the most important thing that ever happened in human history, God incarnate. His coming to earth in human form. 

Christmas 2020. Gone are the parades, the hauling of kids to see Santa, the corporate parties, the Christmas pageants and concerts. No distractions, no excuses. Come Christmas! 

What I heard at Walgreens

I am in line at Walgreen's (on Nicollet in downtown Minneapolis) on November 24th of 2020. The checkout girl did not like the attitude of a customer. 

She said something like this..."well, I demand respect. And if you won't give it to me I will take it."

I have been puzzling over that statement for 24 hours now and I think it is one of the oddest thing I've ever heard a human say. 

How often should I change my Wells Fargo password?

 According to the company the password should be changed at least once every 17 YEARS and SIX MONTHS !!

I opened a checking account at Wells Fargo in May of 2003. 

Two days ago they asked me to change my password, in order to protect my security. 

For the first time. 

I changed the password, which was very unique, to one that is easy to remember. 

Penance and Confession

 In the 1970's I stole something from two places of business. One I worked at, one I did not. I was younger and in some ways wiser than I am today. But that did not keep me from doing bad stuff. I finally made things right a couple of weeks ago. 

I just realized this crazy thing. One place knew I did it, let me know they knew, replaced what I had stolen, and let me off. 

The other place knew the thing had been stolen but didn't know it was me. 

For years I carried around in my wallet a piece of paper that reminded me of these debts. Why did I wait so long to fix this? When I finally got around to it I wrote two anonymous letters explaining what I had done, apologizing. Stuffed in cash to cover my sin, plus some. 

Felt pretty good to finally do that. Felt bad that I had waited so long to do something so right.  

This experience is like unto the Sacrament of Confession. How often do we let things go unsaid because too much time has passed? Do we think old sins sort of expire after a while and don't need confessing? 

I think it is more likely that we don't really ponder our shortcomings as we should. That piece of paper in my wallet should have been a daily reminder to fix that thing. Instead it was just another faded piece of yellow stuffed between other old pieces of paper. Confession demands the same attention as our deepest prayers. That is the only way we'll get to that sweeter sounding term.... Reconciliation. 

Deep Thanksgiving

Sometimes there are thanks we want to offer that we just don't have right words for. 

In my family this week we had some wonderful health news but it's not my place to say who it was or the condition. It was something that could have been horrible but was not.

Had the news been bad I would have just fallen to my knees pleading for a miracle. The news was good and I find the rejoicing so difficult to verbalize. I have lots of words when I ask God for something. When prayers are answered it's hard to move beyond "thanks". I don't have all the words to say what it is that I want to express. Everything comes out sort of the the same way, a weak feeble, "thanks". Granted, sometimes they are all caps and shouted with joy, other times just whispered. 

When the words don't come, we must be content just to be in the presence of God. To seek to be constantly mindful of his wonderful gifts. To contemplate his power as much in thanksgiving as in supplication. Teach me to be truly grateful O Lord. Every single moment. Right now. 

In Romans 8:26 the Apostle Paul puts a light on the incompleteness of our prayers. The English Standard Version translates his words beautifully. "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."

This has indeed been a day for groanings. It is also a day to ponder, "What if we had not prayed?"

Must I Vote?

It has been several years since I felt really good about the presidential election. Why is that? Must I vote?

Each four years both major candidates are probably good and decent, by current  standards. Every once in a while one breaks the mold, but generally these are people who have given their lives in public service. We should respect and honor such folk. We need more of them. 

One of my litmus tests for a President is that they be a good example to children. When my kids were little I wanted them to be able to look at Reagan, or Bush I or Clinton or Bush II as people they should be like. Not that they would agree with all their policies. More as like a father figure to the nation. A man of honor, trustworthy, loyal to America, faithful, credible, devout. 

I  still hold to this standard. I don't think it is a particularly high or unfair standard. I'd like a President that is an example to my granddaughters and grandsons on what a good man is like. One that reinforces the example of their own fathers, and not one that contradicts that example.  

Years ago I thought that in such situations it is good to vote for the least bad of two choices. That is wrong. I must not vote if I believe a candidate is bad, regardless of the degree of badness of the other fella. 

In truth, I do not know these men. Had I a day to spend alone with each of them, which one would I select to "preserve, protect and defend the Constitution" ? (Alternatively, which one would I enjoy spending a day fishing with? In my lifetime, as I think about the nominees of the major parties, the ones I would like to fish with are Eisenhower, Goldwater, Humphrey, McGovern, Carter, Bush I, Dole, Gore, Bush II, Clinton II.  They all seem like normal people that you wouldn't have to continually engage in conversation. They could just sit in the boat and not need the noise of human mouths, or whine about who forgot the sunscreen. Some years I skipped, sorry Nixon and JFK. But I digress. ) 

I will not have that opportunity so my only choice is to take them at their word. I will assume that both believe exactly what they have said and that there is no intentional falsehood in their words. 

Their political parties do not make this easy. The party I most identify with rejects the beliefs I hold most dear. The party I could inch toward, masquerades as an arm of the local, water-body-named, evangelical church. Neither party is comfortable with orthodox Catholicism. 

I have a right to vote, meaning I get to decide. Do I have responsibility to do so? Yeah I guess. Voting is a way of telling the world that I endorse our form of self government. To vote breathes a little life into it, makes it stronger. 

Do I have an obligation to vote? That is a bit stronger term. Am I obliged? Meaning if I don't vote, do I believe I have done something wrong? Do I owe my country this form of allegiance? I have pledged my allegiance many many times before you my fellow citizens. I have done so in schools and in the public square. I have done so without thinking too much about it. My motives were not always pure. I often pledged my allegiance simply to fit in, to be one of us, heck yeah i'm an American. Just like you. Hand on my heart, hat off my head, yes sir. 

So am I going to vote, just like I promised? Probably. I may not feel good about it but my feelings are largely my fault. When I was a political activist I loved voting. I mean it. Like lay awake at night on election eve, liked it. Be the first in line at the polls, liked it. Wear candidate button to the polls, liked it. That was because I knew the guys on the ballot. I didn't need their ads. I knew what they really believed and what they were like on the weekends and in their homes. That part of my life is over but I'm going to do my best to take that attitude with me to the voting booth. 

That I pledge. 

Tulips in October

 It is late October and the air is crisp as the temperature jumps around the low 30s and high 20s. Last week we had around 6 inches of snow, which is unusual for this part of the state so soon. Two weeks ago I planted around 200 spring tulips and wondered whether I was early, as we were still on the warm side of autumn. 

These bulbs are seeds of a Spring to come. They will lie dormant from October through March. Dormant is not a good word, perhaps disguised is better. In the ground of October, they anticipate the cold of December and the thawing of February and March. While the grass is brown and snow covers the soil, down in the earth the cold temps launch a change inside the bulb. Never mind the botanical details. But a change that will cause a stem and flower to push out of the earth in April and May. For now they get no attention from me. No care, no water, no fertilizer. Only neglect and hardship. From this comes growth. Hmmm, a metaphor for something.

In planting tulips I am looking ahead...around the corner, behind the curtain, over the hill, down the street of time, to another spring. Past the laughs of Thanksgiving. Beyond the Gloria of Christmas and the Miracle of the Annunciation, they will be here to celebrate the Hosanna of Easter. 

Tulips are for time travelers. If you envy them in the spring because there are none in your yard, go back in time six months. Go to Home Depot. Buy bulbs. Plant them. 

If you are annoyed by the work involved in the fall, digging 200 holes, it must be because your body is getting old and is stuck in the present day. Your mind has moved on and is seeing beauty in things that will happen in the year to come. Things you are almost certain of. 

Come Winter!! 

My church was closed today

 My Catholic church was closed today. I needed it to be open. 

Before the pandemic it was open everyday, all day. It has a small beautiful chapel that is a wonderful place to pray, to be in the presence of God, to step out of the secular and into the divine. 

Now it is open about half of the days. Not on Wednesdays apparently. I was born on a Wednesday and have found it to often be a day when one is much in need of Christ. No less so than other days.  

Undeterred, I walked over to the large crucifix and knelt and prayed there. It is outside, so not subject to keys and locks and chimes and light switches and hvac units and other instruments that rule inside buildings. 

Lord please hear my prayer this day for one so close and dear to me. 

I did not watch the debate

 The last presidential debate I am certain I watched was in 1992 between Bush, Clinton, Perot. I remember it quite well as I was on location working with one of the campaigns and standing behind the cameras at Washington University in St. Louis. I may have also watched one of the Bush-Gore debates as well. 

However in the last twenty years or so, it seems that the debates have slowly declined in importance and information content. Wouldn't it be nice to have a thoughtful discussion between our former Vice-President and our current President on say; HIV in sub-Saharan Africa, the various territorial claims to Antarctica, foreign relations with Venezuela (to pick three important topics that no one is discussing today)? 

Take a moment and read the transcripts of the 1980 Carter-Reagan debates. I prefer reading the transcripts to watching videos as it forces one to think about their words over the style of their delivery. What you find are two men who disagree very strongly with each other. They probably didn't like each other. Yet, they presented their views with dignity, in a gentlemanly fashion, with respect for their opponent. 

Their different views made sense. Each position had some value and merit. In their time they were considered important, but no one would have thought in 1980 that the voters of 2020 would look back on them with admiration. Yet we do, not because they were that great, they weren't, but because of how far the tone of current public debate has declined.  

The politics of running

This week I went for a long run on one of the many state trails. This one runs along the Minnesota River from Chaska to Shakopee Minnesota. 

It was two days after the death of a famous politician.

Along the trail there were little signs with directional arrows and rules such as "no motorized vehicles", "stay on the trail", "clean up after your dog", and the like. 

On each of the signs someone had placed a sticker, "Rest in peace, politician's name". Someone felt that while I am out running on this beautiful trail I needed to think about their hero. No, I did not. I could write much on what sort of person would do that, but since I once was that sort of person, I won't. Anyway, whomever you are, you briefly interrupted my solitude, but you won't interrupt that of others. The stickers came down, sign by sign, one by one. 

...and he left the woods better than he found them.  

The tree down the street

 There is a large old oak tree in my neighbor's yard. It lived to be around a hundred and fifty or so years, and then died. This year. The other old oaks are just starting to shed a few leaves but this one has nary a one, and has not had all year. 

Talk is, the owners have had three arborists out to look at it. I guess in tree world that's the same as getting a second opinion. Yep, it's dead. Or as a Minnesotan would say, It's a goner, ya got that right. They must want to keep it. Though they have only owned that land and tree for about three years, perhaps they feel that such a decision best goes slowly. Or maybe it is something simpler, procrastinating, or not being able to afford the removal, or the hope that maybe next spring it will come back to life. 

Our perspectives differ. Those who live in the house look out the window and see the same huge trunk as the year before. Same same. Those who live down the street see bare branches and death. 

There is this deep thing in us that keeps things in their place. Before Minnesota was a state that tree may have been here. We long for permanence. 

The neighbor should cut down the tree. It's dangerous and is becoming an eyesore. But I understand the reluctance to cut. Just last week I got around to paying someone some money I owed them since 1978. They didn't even know I owed them. It was easy to put off. But I'm getting old. But not like that tree. 

Marriage and a book

Sometimes you read a book and love each page. Others you just slog through. I just finished "One hundred years of Solitude", which is supposedly one of the great novels of the last century. It is not. No Sir. 

It has one passage near the end that makes all the drudgery preceding it worthwhile. It describes a trait of a good marriage. "... they enjoyed the miracle of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out old people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs. "

Thoughts on the birth of my grandson, Benjamin

 What a wonderful blessing to welcome a second grandson this summer.

While you are not the first, you are the son of my son, and that makes you special and distinct. Being the father of a son is very different than being the father of a daughter (to state the obvious) and there will be a special set of joys you will bring to your family.  

I have not yet held you, that is several days away. But when I do I will be drawn back to that day when I held your dad for the first time. How wonderful it was, as a man, to hold this small future man in my hands. The first word I will whisper in your ear will be the name of our Saviour, and I will make the sign of the cross on your forehead. Perhaps some day you will be as fortunate as I and will do the same with your child and grandchild, please do. 

How blessed you are to be born to this man and woman. They love you so much and will raise you up to be a true son of our Father. Your sisters will meet you today for the first time and they will get another glimpse of true love as new feelings for you immediately spring forth inside them. 

So much is running through my head as I think about you. I try and picture you as a young man, but that is so difficult. You are a big baby so I imagine you as a big kid and a big man. Ahead lie the St. Louis Cardinals, long hot days at the ball park, other afternoons on some ball field with a team of friends, nights alone studying schoolwork, riding a bike, climbing a tree, driving a car. Each good thing making you more and more into the type of person you should be. 

 It is easy to think about all the troubles in this world and the many trials you will face, but for now I have to set that aside and simply thank God that you are here. I am thankful for your parents and their love for each other. I am thankful for the wisdom I see in them as they raise your sisters. 

Your family needs you. How and in what way, we don't know. But we know their family is already bigger and better and more complete because of you. There will be things about you that make your mom and dad better parents. There will be ways you make your sisters better young women. When the time comes for them to marry, if you become the young man I think you will, they will think often about the best things about you and your dad, and they will want to marry someone who is a bit like both of you. 

As you sleep in the arms of your mother, you are the image to us of the beauty of creation. You are now with her as we should all be with our heavenly Father, totally dependent, unable to do a single thing on your own behalf. Like us at so many times, you are also unaware of the goodness that rains down upon you. Unaware and thus unable to offer thanks for the nourishment and warmth and blessings that surround you. 

Soon you will be baptized into His Church and the grace of our Lord will pour upon your soul. It will be the start of your walk with Him who will guide you always. How great is the love of our Lord for you, that he called you to life at this time and place. 

Remember me in your prayers, as I will for you. God bless you Benjamin Brooks, and preserve you in his Holy arms. 

Thoughts on the birth of my first grandson

I have pondered your arrival for several days now and am still at a loss to put to words what your arrival means to me. When one looks at a new born child, it is with a sense of awe, no more so when the child is your descendant. 

I hold you as my grandfather held me and I am reaching back in my past. Re-enacting a scene that has played out down through the centuries of our family. Someday the little hands that I hold will hold the tiny hands of his child, my great grandchild, and then of my great great grandchild. Always with the same awe and puzzlement that is before me now. 

Your mother wanted you so much I will not even attempt to put that into words. Your arrival was preceded by countless prayers and tears and cries to the Father. My prayers were lifted up in my home, in my car as I drove to work, in so many churches and along countless walks alone. "Lord, make Rachel a mother." I doubted at times whether my oldest daughter would be so blessed, but God in his wisdom granted our prayers at the time and place of his choosing, not ours. And not before many tears were shed for reasons that are beyond our understanding. But, as always, what God had planned for our family is better than what we planned, for now we have you. We are so happy that you are now here and will always be thankful to God for his providence. 

Our family is more complete now. As our family has grown it has still seemed as though someone or something was missing. We couldn't name it, but all who loved your mother sensed that perhaps our thoughts were about you. That missing piece now so tiny yet so large. At Thanksgiving and Christmas and all other big family gatherings there was this unspoken person who was not there, who we all felt should be. 

I think now of these holidays and simple family days to come. Soon your mother will come to our home bearing you in her arms. In a flash it will be that you will come walking up the steps holding her hand. Later you will bound up those steps with your parents trailing behind, bearing some story of an accomplishment or victory at school or play. 

We await those days with anticipation but for now are content to watch you in your helplessness and dependence on your father and mother. There is a beauty in the state you are in this day, totally dependent on others, without the ability to do one thing for yourself. You only have this sense of what you need, food and comfort. You know this will be provided and cannot even conceive of being without. You are nine days old and have never been hungry or cold or hot. You have been blessed to be in the arms of a man and woman who have committed their lives to each other and to you and have the means to provide for you. In time you will realize what a blessing indeed this is, for even in the hospital where you were born there are those who share your birth date who do not share in your good fortune. 

In the months to come you will teach us so much. You will remind us of the wonder of this earth, as mud squishes through your toes, butterflies catch your eye, dogs lick your face, and raindrops fall on your head. You will teach us about trust. You will remind us of the joy and laughter that comes with learning. You will remind us to be thankful for all the things we forget to thank God for, as smiles fill your face when you learn to take a step, to feed yourself, to dress yourself, to do something nice for someone else. 

You will teach us about faith, real faith. As your parents fill your mind with stories of God, the Lord himself will fill your heart, and you will believe. How our Lord himself was once right where you are, gazing at his mother and father, helpless. And you will not doubt. Later others will introduce you to doubt, but that will not come from your parents or from the Lord. My prayer for you this day is that you will ever stand strong and not waver. 

I have a favor to ask of you, Truman Dyrud. As with your mother and her siblings and my other grandchildren, the first word you heard from my lips was the name of the Christ, Jesus. I also made the sign of the cross on your forehead. It was my little way of thanking God for you and doing one little thing to start your life as He would have it. I ask that when you come to such a time in your life, that you do this for my great grandchildren and their children. And if you have time in all the excitement, say a prayer for me, as I will for you. 

I am happier than I can say that you are here. I so look forward to sharing the days, weeks and years to come with you. God bless you Truman and lift you up, be a good man. 

You can smoke frozen pork ribs

I'm sure the title of this post is heresy to smoking purists.

The problem with smoking meat, is every article or book you read goes through this long diatribe about things to do for that perfect ending to a the hours on the smoker. Wet sauce, dry rub, do this, do that, salt them, don't salt them, marinade, dance a jig, down a shot of whiskey, and on and on.

One day I decided to smoke ribs on the spur of the moment. Like, fire up the smoker, remove ribs from the freezer and stick 'em in. Fortunately I had some St. Louis style ribs that were just the right length and did not require firing up the chain saw.

I guess I was curious more than anything. I was sorta wanting ribs, but mainly I wanted the smell of the smoker going on a cool spring day as I did some yard work.

I cooked them about the same amount of time I would if company was comin. Around 6 hrs, around 200-225. No salt no pepper no marinade. These were nekkid ribs and they were just fine. Not my best but they would have been good enough for family and for most of the people I would invite over to the house.

Would they win a competition? Never? Could I open a restaurant selling Eskimo style ribs? Doubtful, though Minnesotans would by them in droves if I stuck "fusion" in the name. Will I do it again? Absolutely.

Great day just to fish

There are days when it is nice just to be on the lake, whether the fish are biting or not. I don't have one of those fancy fish finders, and I don't read the fishing tables. Mainly I just fish when I feel like it. If the fish are biting, I keep going, if they aren't I stop. Usually.

Today we fished for crappie, mainly jigging white grubs. Boy there were a ton of bites but seems the fish were just playing with us. Lots of nibbles few nice bites. In two hours the two of us caught about fifteen or so. Threw them all back for someone else to catch.

The lake was like glass almost all morning. An occasional gust but otherwise just nice and calm. Easy to use that trolling motor and not fighting the wind like it is often around here. The water temp is about 80, which is getting nice for swimming.

My wife likes to fish, which is good, most of the time.

The Nativity of John the Baptist

When I became Catholic, there were many things I grew to love that I had not thought much about when pondering finer points of theology. One is the church calendar. There is always something going on and it is always pointing to Jesus.

This week we celebrated the birth of John the Baptist. Just six more months until Christmas! Three months ago, when snow was still on the ground, came the annunciation - 9 months until Christmas. The angel told Mary at that time that her cousin Elizabeth was in her sixth month. Mary traveled to see Elizabeth, who became in a way the first evangelist, sorta. It was Elizabeth who proclaimed that the child Jesus, living three months in the womb of Mary, was "my Lord".

John the Baptist. The Precursor. He must increase and I must decrease. Leaping in the womb as Mary approaches Elizabeth. Preparing the way of the Lord. In the wilderness with a few followers. The baptizer of Jesus. Martyr at the hand of Herod Antipas.

Saint John the Baptist, pray for us. 

I'm not a statistician, but... Governor Wald's claims seem a little bizarre

Our local CBS station reports this from our governor's press conference. It was earlier today and when he also announced the lockdown order.

"Walz said that if the state did nothing to slow the spread of COVID-19, projections show that upwards of 74,000 people in this state could potentially be killed by the virus."

That's a scary figure, and I'm sure intentionally so. As of this writing, according to Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Research Center, 21,181 people in the whole world have died of the virus. Total. All of Italy, all of China, all of Spain, all of every country in the world.

I guess here in Minnesota we are just particularly vulnerable.... that over three times as many people will die here as in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Fortunately for us all we live in a state that can't stand to do nothing, for both problems huge and tiny.

The virus is serious, but so far our death total here is 1. (Minnesota Dept of Health)

Neither the cheerleading of the President, nor the doomsdayism of the Governor is helpful.

A year from now we will commemorate the anniversary of this terrible event. I'm sure someone will drag out that 74,000 figure and crow about how wonderful it is that deaths were so far below the forecasts of today.

Women's book club doing their first video chat

Overheard statements from the next room....

i don's see suzie

i see mary but you're tiny

i see you and you're big

i see you but only when you talk

i hear you but you're not moving

i see you when you're talking but don't when you're not

what are you drinking..
i have my tea
i have my water

i just lost joanne

there's lisa, yea!!!

everybody's frozen for me


And on and on it goes. 9 minutes down, 60 to go.

Life during wartime

Like everybody else, I can't get the song out of my head.

"Heard about Houston? heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, PA?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
Somebody might see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter
To last a couple of days....

He's not playing golf.

My brother died a year ago today. I miss him more than I can write about, so I won't even try.

A friend pondered, in a sort of joking/sort of not joking way, "I wonder who is in his foursome today". Around  major sporting events, he has told me my brother has "the best view of all".

I don't have any real conception of what heaven is like, but I think I am on firm ground when I assert that it is not at all like golf. It is not like watching Alabama/Auburn in football

The Bible tells us over and again that our mind cannot conceive the glory of this new land. Perhaps it will be familiar but in a way that gives new meaning to the word familiarity. My brother is going to this land beyond land in a time beyond time worshiping the King of all Kings. Perhaps he is already there.

Closing Churches in March of 2020

Having grown up in the Baptist Church, I fully expected the wave of shutdowns over the virus. In the church of the first 50 years of my life, closures were rare, but not unheard of. Particularly in the South where any threat of ice or snow was reason to call off church. Love for senior citizens was always the excuse, "we don't want the old folks slipping on the sidewalk". This also meant, "the senior citizens are too stupid to make decisions for themselves". Power out, close the church. Hurricane warning, close the church.

This was a key reason the handful of non-Catholic churches I am in touch with gave for closing. "we have lots of old folks". No you don't, no more than any other church. You have SOME old folks, they dominate your finances, but not your membership. However, you still think they are too stupid to make their own decisions. Got it. 

I was particularly disappointed when my Catholic Church here stopped all masses. At the time it did not seem the right thing to do, and after several days it still does not. However, I don't have to make the decision, I just get to sit in the stands and second guess the coach.

Seems we could have worked around this. No more than 50 at a mass, got it. Not more than 10, we'll work around that. Have more masses or communion services and spread the people out. We could have found a way to stay open. In fairness I should point out that my parish is expanding Eucharistic Adoration from one day a week to seven, and asking that no more than ten be in the church sanctuary at one time. That is good and much much better than totally shutting down. 

Behind the closings there is an assumption that during times like these, all gatherings of large groups of people are bad. It's bad for a bunch of sports fans to gather at a casino, it's bad for teenagers to party at the beach, and it's bad for Catholics to gather together to drink the precious blood of Christ and eat his precious body. Listen to the public pronouncements. Gatherings of the Church are lumped into the same category as all other meetings. The secular rulers of this age see nothing special about who we are or what we do when we gather, which is to be expected.

In this current round of church closing, it is all being done under the guise of some good end. My little country parish proclaimed that the common good should be our aim. Pope Francis has said similar things. Does this mean that as a Christian my highest priority is something other than to be more and more like Christ? That is what I thought at first reading. Perhaps it just means the common good is important. I get that, but there is something about the Church being in agreement with government that makes me a bit uneasy. There is a always a conflict between the secular idea of a common good and the devotion to Christ of His Church.

During this time the parish I live in proclaims....

It is important for us to be in solidarity with one another and seek the common good the best we can together. With that in mind, I am choosing to honor the recommendations of government authorities...

Wow, that's a scary one. How many times in history have good people said that and ended up on the wrong side of history.

Perhaps the church is right and the government is right and we should close the churches as a way to help our fellow man survive this crisis. Perhaps. Perhaps. Closing churches does not make us a better people. It does not make us more like Christ, who walked among those with terrible diseases. It does not make us physically stronger and more virus resistant. It is not a common good. We are weaker today than a week ago. We will be weaker still a week from now.

Jail time, I need more

Once a month I help conduct a church service at the local jail. Like hospice, this is an "I get to", not an "I have to".

The attendance is usually very light, never more than a half-dozen. After all, this is a fairly small county jail, not a Riker's Island or Folsom Prison.

Today there were three of us. Me and two women in their mid-30s. The Sunday Mass gospel reading for today is the story of Jesus and the woman at the well in Samaria. Many of you know that story, of the discarded, rejected, outcast woman who encountered Christ in two drinks of water. The drink of physical water that she provided him. The drink of everlasting life of living water that He offered to her.

You know the story, we all do. But I know it better from sharing it with two women who are also scorned, discarded, rejected and outcast. Right now. Right here. They knew that woman in the passage. They knew her tears. They knew how hard her life was. Face to face.

We held hands and shared prayers. I will likely not see either of them again. But time and again the gospel message comes to life for me in the faces and voices and tears of the hurting and the dying. I am drawn to them for reasons that I do not understand.

My life has just been so much more than it should have been...

What I will do/not do during virus time

I will not stop being with people.
I will not stop shaking their hand.
I will run to the Eucharist, the Church, the Body
I will offer a touch to the hurting and suffering.
I will be paranoid and irrational.
I will joke about the virus and my mortality
I will buy things I don't need.
I will go places I shouldn't.
Just as I always do.

One good thing from this virus stuff

Perhaps when this is all over with guys will discard hugging, as quickly as they seemed to adopt it.
Or is this a Minnesota thing?

When I lived in Arkansas in the mid-80s, men shook hands, boys high-fived. Normal greetings.

When I lived in Missouri in the mid-80s to early 2000s, men shook hands. McGwire and Sosa made variations of the fist bump or fore arm bump acceptable in certain settings.

By 2003 or 4, around the time we moved to Minnesota, men were hugging. It's always been ok in times of extreme emotions, such as a wedding or a funeral. But for the past twenty years or so, men have been hugging as a normal standard greeting. You stick out a hand to shake, and some will say, "come on bud, gimme a bro hug". Yes, I'm about as likely to do that as give you some of Tinkerbelle's pixie dust, a silver chair from Narnia, or a piece of cake from Wonderland.

It's odd and very much out of character for most of us. Which explains why it never made it into the business world. Not the real one. Same with politics and the arts. Toby Keith hugs, Merle Haggard shakes hands. Kennedy and Nixon shook hands. Bernie Sanders and Jeb Bush offer hugs. Hank Paulson and Warren Buffet shake hands. Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos seem more the hugging types.

Anyway, the strong handshake from a strong hand is always welcome, whether during virus time, Christmas time, or any other time.

What I learned at her funeral

Thoughts about her following Vivian's funeral

I should have known her better.

I could have known her better, I had the opportunity and passed on it. We both are to blame. If I had gone first she would have been thinking the same thing about me.

From a small service you see much bigger things. The whole of what matters in this life.

I was there not because I knew her well, but because I didn't. Because she was family. God created family for when times are fun and easy and for when it is hard.

Suffering differs so much across time and place. I cannot say I know what you are going through, because I don't. The suffering of the one who lost a sibling is different from my loss. I feel as inadequate in sharing his grief as he did in sharing mine. Nothing I say helps to fill that void, but it is good to know that others are there.

This priest is one acquainted with grief.