Every so often, I catch a glimpse of myself as I must appear to others. I see how silly I am, how ugly I act, how petty I think. Inevitably these glimpses make me really wonder how God can love me.
It’s not an esteem issue or a case of not liking myself. No, this is the face of reality and the wonderment of just how much God DOES love me.
When I see how I must appear to others, when I catch sight of how very far I have to go, when I glance the starkness of my sins and failings, it is then that I better understand - intellectually AND emotionally - just how merciful and loving God our Father is.
I let people down. I disappoint. I fail.
And yet God does not ask perfection. He does not rail at me and throw sharp objects. He does not harp on it.
Instead, he opens wide his arms and asks, “Why have you waited so long to come home?”
The blessings in my life don’t stop because of my weaknesses or my tendencies to let God down. In fact, perhaps the greatest blessing, the biggest grace, has been the ongoing growth and desire to keep “coming home” to God’s loving arms.
I may be silly and ugly and petty and more. God isn’t giving up on me. Just like the father on the sidelines who doesn’t hesitate to walk right onto the court to pick up his wounded daughter, He cheers me on, picks me up, and hugs me tightly.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Trash to Treasure
It’s that time of year when there is a yard sale dotting every development, when people have cleaned out their trash and are marketing it for whatever they can get, when the hunt for a bargain really kicks in.
A year ago, our family had a yard sale at my mother-in-law’s house. I did my best to avoid coming home with more than I took, but it was hard. I could blame my daughter, who was two at the time, but really, I was just as much to blame. How could I resist the goodies I saw from my sister-in-law, the clothes from my nieces, the must-haves that my mother-in-law contributed?
Though I didn’t quite come home with more than I took, I did have to laugh at myself recently when, cleaning out the toy mess in our house, I found myself putting quite a few of those garage sale finds from last year in the “get it out of the house” pile. I had to chuckle at how, when I’m given a full garbage bag full of three-sizes-too-big clothes from my sister-in-law, I find myself passing them right along.
We just don’t need all this STUFF. We have enough of our own.
After the last parish trip to Appalachia, I gained some further insight into how much STUFF we really have. The folks told me about how they took a couch to an 80-year-old woman who had never had a couch. Ever. This was her first couch.
Now, the cynic in me started to ask, perhaps she never NEEDED a couch.
Then I thought about how much time we spend on OUR couch.
And I thought about what we’re doing when we’re on the couch.
It’s a pretty short list: reading, eating, talking, or, most likely, watching TV.
Did this 80-year-old woman have a TV? And if not, is she really missing out? (I would have a harder time answering that question if “TV” was replaced by “computer.”)
Our parish has sent three brimming-to-the-edge-of-whatever-vehicle-we-take trips down to Appalachia. We’ve sent everything from clothes to furniture to food. And, with everything we take, the folks down there respond much as the lepers did to Jesus, with heartfelt thanks.
I can’t help but think about the last time I went to confession. I was getting a little crusty on the edges, a little full of grime and dirt and sin. I took that big black garbage bag of sin to Jesus, in the form of Father Pat, and he turned it into treasure for me - graces I’ve needed every day since.
As I look around in the bright sunshine of early spring, filling bags for the upcoming parish rummage sale and picking through the things in my pantry for the upcoming trip to Appalachia, it’s pretty obvious that it’s also time for me to make an appointment for confession. First, I have to swallow my pride (do you ever struggle with that when it comes to confession?) and then I have to shine some of that sunshine inside of myself, to find the sins that are disguised as harmless cobwebs over behind the dresser and the sins that have become invisible by virtue of how often I commit them.
Confession gets a bad rap. And it’s no wonder - if I was Satan, I’d make sure I attacked this sacrament with all I had too. You see, after a good confession, I’m ready for battle; I’m ready to take on my life; I’m ready to enjoy the beautiful world around me without the baggage of all that stuff inside.
A year ago, our family had a yard sale at my mother-in-law’s house. I did my best to avoid coming home with more than I took, but it was hard. I could blame my daughter, who was two at the time, but really, I was just as much to blame. How could I resist the goodies I saw from my sister-in-law, the clothes from my nieces, the must-haves that my mother-in-law contributed?
Though I didn’t quite come home with more than I took, I did have to laugh at myself recently when, cleaning out the toy mess in our house, I found myself putting quite a few of those garage sale finds from last year in the “get it out of the house” pile. I had to chuckle at how, when I’m given a full garbage bag full of three-sizes-too-big clothes from my sister-in-law, I find myself passing them right along.
We just don’t need all this STUFF. We have enough of our own.
After the last parish trip to Appalachia, I gained some further insight into how much STUFF we really have. The folks told me about how they took a couch to an 80-year-old woman who had never had a couch. Ever. This was her first couch.
Now, the cynic in me started to ask, perhaps she never NEEDED a couch.
Then I thought about how much time we spend on OUR couch.
And I thought about what we’re doing when we’re on the couch.
It’s a pretty short list: reading, eating, talking, or, most likely, watching TV.
Did this 80-year-old woman have a TV? And if not, is she really missing out? (I would have a harder time answering that question if “TV” was replaced by “computer.”)
Our parish has sent three brimming-to-the-edge-of-whatever-vehicle-we-take trips down to Appalachia. We’ve sent everything from clothes to furniture to food. And, with everything we take, the folks down there respond much as the lepers did to Jesus, with heartfelt thanks.
I can’t help but think about the last time I went to confession. I was getting a little crusty on the edges, a little full of grime and dirt and sin. I took that big black garbage bag of sin to Jesus, in the form of Father Pat, and he turned it into treasure for me - graces I’ve needed every day since.
As I look around in the bright sunshine of early spring, filling bags for the upcoming parish rummage sale and picking through the things in my pantry for the upcoming trip to Appalachia, it’s pretty obvious that it’s also time for me to make an appointment for confession. First, I have to swallow my pride (do you ever struggle with that when it comes to confession?) and then I have to shine some of that sunshine inside of myself, to find the sins that are disguised as harmless cobwebs over behind the dresser and the sins that have become invisible by virtue of how often I commit them.
Confession gets a bad rap. And it’s no wonder - if I was Satan, I’d make sure I attacked this sacrament with all I had too. You see, after a good confession, I’m ready for battle; I’m ready to take on my life; I’m ready to enjoy the beautiful world around me without the baggage of all that stuff inside.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Soup Kitchen and Food Pantry
Summer is almost here. We have some great volunteer opportunities with the Food Pantry of Plain City, and the Soup Kitchen in downtown Columbus.
We will be looking into taking "the bus" downtown on Tuesday's for the afternoon. We will meet at the PAC for pick-up, and drop off. They are in real need in the summer for volunteers. Your time will be a great gift.
The Food Pantry of Plain City is open Wednesday and Saturday mornings from 9am-12pm. They now have the Thrift Store up and running in the back. Again, your time is invaluable. Any and all help is really appreciated. You guys rock!!!
We will be looking into taking "the bus" downtown on Tuesday's for the afternoon. We will meet at the PAC for pick-up, and drop off. They are in real need in the summer for volunteers. Your time will be a great gift.
The Food Pantry of Plain City is open Wednesday and Saturday mornings from 9am-12pm. They now have the Thrift Store up and running in the back. Again, your time is invaluable. Any and all help is really appreciated. You guys rock!!!
Rummage Sale
Hi guys...it's almost here. The BIG Youth Rummage Sale. There will be plenty of volunteer opportunities for this event!! Starting Monday May 12, we will be in the PAC from 6:30-9pm every night sorting, pricing and placing the merchandise. And on Thursday evening, we will wrap up all the odds and ends for Friday, have an appreciation dinner and preview shopping for all the volunteers.
The more successful this is, the more opportunities we will have. This is a great fundraiser for the Youth Group. Looking forward to seeing you there.
The more successful this is, the more opportunities we will have. This is a great fundraiser for the Youth Group. Looking forward to seeing you there.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Thoughts on Forgiveness
I’ve been examining forgiveness since that Lent in 2001 when I became Catholic. My journey that year, during those 40 days, was to forgive my mother. At the time, we hadn’t spoken for about five years. She had tried to apologize many times, but I was the model for a hard heart and deaf ears. It took me all of Lent to come to terms with things that might seem silly or inconsequential to anyone not residing in my head. I spent those 40 days praying and pondering and trying to listen. Near Easter, I wrote a letter to my mom, asking for her forgiveness.
It’s not that we became best friends after that.
And taking that step caused me plenty of grief.
For five years, I had been adamant in my insistence that I would not talk to Mom, and I went so far as to nickname her something so cruel I can’t reprint it here. So, given that background, it shouldn’t have been surprising that my dad and stepmom reacted a bit violently to my new point of view.
That June, my father returned the gift certificate I had sent him for Father’s Day.
My stepmom wrote me a letter that went on and on - I don’t remember just what it said, to be honest, but I remember the wound it caused. I saved it, but I’ve never looked back at it.
You see, after their reaction, I had a whole new mountain of forgiveness in front of me.
After the birth of my oldest child, that mountain, which I had been trying to go around, proved to be blocking every path in my life.
I realized, slowly, that I was not “done” with forgiveness. I was not “cured.” I was the same Sarah, with a hard heart and deaf ears.
My journey through forgiveness has been ongoing. I’ve realized it’s more than just “It’s OK.” I’ve found the need to keep on forgiving, whether or not it’s deserved or requested.
The hardest part, by far, has been the forgetting part. It’s easy for me to say to myself, “Oh, that’s forgiven” and move on to the next item on my to-forigve list, without any real change of heart having taken place. It’s not so easy to stop rehashing the old hurts, to stop reliving old pain, to be like Jesus was as he hung on the cross.
It’s not that we became best friends after that.
And taking that step caused me plenty of grief.
For five years, I had been adamant in my insistence that I would not talk to Mom, and I went so far as to nickname her something so cruel I can’t reprint it here. So, given that background, it shouldn’t have been surprising that my dad and stepmom reacted a bit violently to my new point of view.
That June, my father returned the gift certificate I had sent him for Father’s Day.
My stepmom wrote me a letter that went on and on - I don’t remember just what it said, to be honest, but I remember the wound it caused. I saved it, but I’ve never looked back at it.
You see, after their reaction, I had a whole new mountain of forgiveness in front of me.
After the birth of my oldest child, that mountain, which I had been trying to go around, proved to be blocking every path in my life.
I realized, slowly, that I was not “done” with forgiveness. I was not “cured.” I was the same Sarah, with a hard heart and deaf ears.
My journey through forgiveness has been ongoing. I’ve realized it’s more than just “It’s OK.” I’ve found the need to keep on forgiving, whether or not it’s deserved or requested.
The hardest part, by far, has been the forgetting part. It’s easy for me to say to myself, “Oh, that’s forgiven” and move on to the next item on my to-forigve list, without any real change of heart having taken place. It’s not so easy to stop rehashing the old hurts, to stop reliving old pain, to be like Jesus was as he hung on the cross.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Christian in the World
I read this this morning in my morning devotions, and I thought y'all might get some good out of it too.
Christians love those who hate them just as the soul loves the body and all its members despite the body's hatred. It is by the soul, enclosed within the body, that the body is held together, and similarly, it is by the Christians, detained in the world as in a prison, that the world is held together. The soul, though immortal, has a mortal dwelling place; and Christians also live for a time amidst perishable things, while awaiting the freedom from change and decay that will be theirs in heaven. As the soul benefits from teh deprivation of food and drink, so Christians flourish under persecution. Such is the Christian's lofty and divinely appointed function, from which he is not permitted to excuse himself.
From Letter to Diognetus
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
It’s the Ho-Ho-liest Week of the Year
So it’s Holy Week.
And I find myself, at the end of Lent, needing to start over again.
Do you ever find that? Do you ever find at the end of something big and grand and wonderful that, when you look back, you have, perhaps, missed the mark?
And you know what?
That’s OK. That’s what Holy Week is about. Even if our Lent hasn’t gone so well (and maybe I set myself up for failure with my too-much-crammed-in attitude), we have Holy Week.
This week, we stop. Bam. We reflect on just what’s coming. We have to cross Calvary to get to the empty tomb. The Cross is the path, for each of us. We walk hand-in-hand with our Savior this week, as he faces his death.
We know the rest of the story. We know he rises.
But he rises through the pain. He first suffered his Passion and death.
So as you journey toward Easter, however you find yourself looking back over Lent, grab Jesus’ hand. Walk with him this week. Let go of what’s holding you back, and embrace the Cross.
And then, on Sunday, celebrate with him!
And I find myself, at the end of Lent, needing to start over again.
Do you ever find that? Do you ever find at the end of something big and grand and wonderful that, when you look back, you have, perhaps, missed the mark?
And you know what?
That’s OK. That’s what Holy Week is about. Even if our Lent hasn’t gone so well (and maybe I set myself up for failure with my too-much-crammed-in attitude), we have Holy Week.
This week, we stop. Bam. We reflect on just what’s coming. We have to cross Calvary to get to the empty tomb. The Cross is the path, for each of us. We walk hand-in-hand with our Savior this week, as he faces his death.
We know the rest of the story. We know he rises.
But he rises through the pain. He first suffered his Passion and death.
So as you journey toward Easter, however you find yourself looking back over Lent, grab Jesus’ hand. Walk with him this week. Let go of what’s holding you back, and embrace the Cross.
And then, on Sunday, celebrate with him!
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