2022: What Worked and What Didn't

The highs

1.  Saying yes.  Saying yes to the silence and listening for the answer.  It was in the patience to hear the response that the path became known to me.  And day after day, I would repeat the question and the answer came again and again.  It is time to go home.  So I said yes, over and over again. 

2. Spiritual Direction.  It has taken several forms in 2022 and they have all been good.  Kelly led me through the Spiritual Exercises and in our weekly Zoom meetings I came to see and experience the compassionate love of Christ in another human being for the first time in my life.  I am growing into my meetings with Sr. Molly and am coming to understand how broad and encompassing this field can be. Spiritual direction continues to show up in casual conversations with Robert and Marc at school.  I am often struck by surprise when I find myself in these deep interchanges; I look around and realize I'm in my office having these profound experiences of God in the flesh.  Spiritual Direction has come to reveal itself as a challenge and sometimes a confrontation in my spiritual life: it makes clear what has been asked and which many times I have been afraid to confront.  But when the question comes from another human, it cannot be ignored or distracted from.  It demands an answer. 

3. Mass/Eucharist/The Mission Church.  It called to me from many miles away and beckoned me back to Eucharist.  It continues to call to me weekly, knowing that through the body of Jesus, I am strengthened and rejuvenated for what lies ahead.  It is now so much more than a call to come; it is an emotional event every single week as I take on the body of Christ and witness the faces of Jesus coming to take and receive. 

4. Connection to family and friends.  Lucia brought me home in her dreams and I have been gifted with so many happy memories because I could finally respond to the urging request of this beautiful child.  And the gifts just keep coming: dinner/movie dates with the CG's, Thanksgiving memories with the Gianninis all in one room together again, coffee/dinner dates with Lorraine, coffee/Labyrinth walks with Nancy, and a renewal of friendships with Paul Zarka and the Nativity staff.  As a result. my love for others continues to grow to a depth that could never have been predicted.

5. Praying the Examen.  This daily reflection has become life changing.  Every 24 hours I can see how God/goodness is moving in my life.  I'm learning to see the trends and trust in allowing myself just to be, be in the presence of the moment and have faith that as I let go of my ego, something much better is waiting for me. 

6. Morning prayer based on daily scripture reading reflections.  I never dreamed that I would ever be starting my day with God.  Nothing happens before prayer, before readings, before written reflections.  And the words that flow from my pencil always take me by surprise; ALWAYS.  The words can then lead me out of my prayer corner and into the world surrounded by love.

7. Stitch Fix.  I've never enjoyed shopping so it has been the perfect solution for this retired woman returning to work.  My wardrobe arrives in the mail, I revel in trying them on and hanging them in the closet with no effort whatsoever from me. 

8. Weekly calls to Mom and texts to my siblings.  Somehow we are all making it work.  We are growing into how best to meet Mom's needs and provide the support she requires or is willing to accept.  And in the meantime, our sibling relationships are growing as well.  I have never been closer to Mike and am coming to better understand Patty. And Amy! She is the gift I didn't know that I needed. As we grow closer, I see more deeply who I am, was, and am becoming. She is the light that shines, lighting the way and reflecting back the goodness and love that was always there.

9. Travel.  Plane tickets to San Jose in March, a cross country trip in April with a stop to see Dave and Tessa, air travel to meet Amy and see Paul and Arma Jo in August and on to visit Mom.  The miracle of traveling across country in car or plane is still an amazing thing.  Within days or hours I am in the arms of loved ones. No text, email, FaceTime, or phone call can compare with that.

10. Podcasts - both spiritual and the mundane.  They connect me to higher ground or keep me in the know of what it is being experienced by the younger set.  This becomes more and more of a challenge as I age.  I could easily just live my life and think my deep thoughts.  Knowledge is power. 

11. Netflix/streaming services.  Somehow through great trial and error and advice from Dave, I have come to have services that are meeting my wants and desires with very little disappointment.  I also have appreciated recommendations from my kids, my brother, and Lorraine on what to watch next. 

12. Living in a smaller space.  Everything in life seems to have prepared me for this, the smallest abode ever.  The last few years have been a constant accumulation and shedding of possessions and houses and here I sit in this rented duplex two short blocks from my dearly beloved.  I am happy in the small space.  There is room to bake and prepare my Hello Fresh meals (thank you Lorraine) but it is small enough to feel the warmth and safety of walls around me. 

And the lows

1. Scheduling time to write.  Retirement was all about having the time to create, to learn new things, to develop gifts.  And I really did think that a half time job would still leave me half the time to create and learn and grow. Just as I needed a schedule when I first retired, I again need a half time schedule.  

2. Living blue in a red state.  I’ve been out of Florida for 9 months and this feeling still resides in my memory of 2022.  Watching the news became a thing of pain and a nonstop prediction of what did Florida do or say today.  I truly believed I was an independent thinker and didn’t need like minded people near me in order to process the events of the day.  It made me keenly aware of what I said to whom.  Yes, I need my tribe and that is definitely on the west coast.  

3. Service.  Although I tried out several avenues of service in Florida, none of them seemed to stick for very long.  However my unpredictable schedule and travel plans didn’t make it any easier.  Everything I attempted was put through the lens of service in San Jose.  But when I returned, I realized these opportunities too either didn’t fit the schedule or I didn’t fit the service agency.  So my challenge has been to redefine “service.”  I am serving the poor every day and am trusting that when the right fit comes along, I will recognize it and grab on.  

4. Coaching class.  This opportunity came along and I grabbed it thinking it would lead me along the path to spiritual guiding.  It hasn’t quite panned out the way I thought it would but I am still Zooming in every Monday and picking up new learning when and where I can.

5. Housing.  Finding housing in the move back to the bay area turned out to be a series of one compromise after another.  My house buying days were clearly over but the dream is still there.  I do miss home ownership and being able to paint a wall if I so desire.  This all feels like the right thing “for now.”  I have no idea what the future holds for me or the housing market but the door will always be open; condo, duplex, tiny house…

6. The life you imagined.  This year has definitely not lived out the way I thought it would.  I suppose that is the added challenge of making these life changing decisions; they are based on what we imagine life will be compared to the life we are already living.  The dream often wins out over the reality.  But I am making it work and loving almost every bit of it.  

And so now, I prepare to enter the unknown of 2023.  I know it holds untold sorrows and joys yet to be experienced.  Loved ones will suffer and some will pass away and I will commit to memory incredible events that today I cannot even imagine.  But I will take the next right step each and every day and trust that all will be well and that love will abide.

Some Thoughts on my Return to Nativity School

The Sacred Heart Nativity staff is a community of deeply caring educators who serve and support one another in all facets of the job.  We serve, not only the students of Nativity, but one another.  We support each other by sharing a smile, a laugh, or a word of encouragement during days that can feel extremely long.  We are reassured by the knowledge that we are all in this together.  

Every one of us knows in our heart that we have been brought here as a part of God’s plan.  Coming to Nativity is always a calling.  Sometimes that plan is brief and sometimes much longer.  For a few of us, teaching at Nativity is our spiritual path for a number of years and we feel the nudge to move on.  Then, like many of our students, we come back to visit because it has become the definition of home for us.  We come back, not because we want to but because it is what our spirit demands.  We need to be nourished once again by the community that fed and sustained us.  Unbeknownst to us, Nativity has permeated our entire being.  It has defined who we are as educators and as believers.  

The calling from God is for the work as well as the personal connection to the mission.  Each day as we walk through the door, we encounter the faces at the margins and find ourselves in the exact spot that Jesus has called us.  Whether it be in the classroom or on the playground, it is in these faces that we see the embodiment of what it means to break the cycle of poverty through education.  We are making a difference.  As we share our gifts and stories with our students, we are transformed as much or more than they are.  We gain as much as we give; we are humbled as we stand in the shadow of their strength and resilience.  We become better people because we are among these learners who teach us every day what it means to work toward a goal that feels just beyond our reach.  

There is nothing easy about this job.  It is the hardest, most  important work that any of us will ever do.  We give our whole selves each day and come back the next day to do it again.  We do it because we see the impact that we are having and it is addictive.  The more that is achieved today, the more we see what can be done tomorrow.  We are lifting up each student in our class academically, emotionally, and socially.  When that student goes home to tell the story of his/her day to the family, they too are lifted.  They learn through their children that there is a way up.  There are possibilities for their children they didn’t know existed.  In those conversations, they learn a new word or phrase in English; they learn about a community event that also opens possibilities for their own lives.  They learn about an author of a book their children have read who lived the same life as they are living and who made his way to Santa Clara University through the support of teachers like those of their son or daughter.  They see what is possible.  And as each family is lifted, so is the community.  So the work each teacher does with that student to whom they give a word of praise or acknowledgement echoes back through his/her parents, grandparents, siblings, and out to local neighbors and friends.  This student will feed on success after success until he/she begins to believe and imagine what is possible; that they too can be the first generation of their family to go to college, to be a teacher, an author, an engineer.  And as their siblings then enter through the same doors on Edwards Avenue, they already know what’s possible because they have heard the story and witnessed their sibling’s success.  

The Nativity Staff is a team of workers like no other.  Every year, we say it’s the best team ever assembled.  We believe it because we have seen the results student after student, year after year.  We know the dream is within our grasp.  From our first day on campus, our hearts have quickly learned the feeling of being broken open, individually and as a group.  We laugh and cry with our students and each other.  But in the quiet moments of the evening we ponder the day and wonder what it is to be twelve and to struggle with all you have in you to learn, to achieve, and to trust that every one of these adults will come through on the promise of success; that you will follow in the footsteps of the graduate portraits on the walls of Sacred Heart Our Lady of Grace Nativity Schools.  And each June, these teachers will heave a huge sigh and proudly lead these graduates out of the doors of the church into the world, to set it on fire.  

Place Holder for the Story that Begs to be Told

 This email was sent to my children the day after I met my half-sister who came into my life less than two months ago.  From the very beginning it has been a story that is begging to be not only told but written and published.  So for now, I will leave it here so that I can hold on to the depth of feelings of this moment.  

"It is the day after my meetings with A and I’m not sure I can put it all into words yet.  In talking to Uncle M about it this morning he agreed that it was extremely difficult to explain it to anyone else.  So let me just relay some events.  Everyone keeps telling me that it is a story begging to be written.  And I'm beginning to agree.

We decided to meet for breakfast alone and then with the family for dinner.  A and I met at the First Watch restaurant in Omaha.  I parked the car and saw her driving in as I got out.  So I waited for her to join me.  We immediately fell into each other’s arms and just started crying.  We hugged each other and would step back and look at each other.  Both of us we were filled with the desire to just touch the other one and and confirm her reality.  Lots of hugging and always accompanied by tears.  As we walked in, she said, I feel like I know you but I don’t know you.  Fast forward to last night as I was leaving; I asked her if she knew me now.  She said yes and agreed that she had also known me in that morning.  You are exactly who I thought you would be.

A’s first question to me was to relay again the timeline of the Allen family moves.  This seemed to be a common topic of conversation for the entire Van Putten family and perhaps the most difficult piece for everyone to grasp - that my father was a builder and as a result we moved often.  From there the questions ping-ponged from my family life as a child to my kids, to my work, to today.  It was an extreme exercise in brain flexibility for a 68-year old.  We met for breakfast at 9:30 and finally stood up to leave a few minutes after noon. It was exhausting, and exhilarating, and an amazing gift that we freely gave to each other.  The waitress was extremely patient with us and thrilled to be in our company with Amy openly said, this is my half-sister.  Those words still ring in my ears at validation of our relationship because it was said with such love and joy.

Next came the family meeting - the family reunion that I didn’t even know that I was a part of until 2 months ago.  I drove out to their house and met her husband, Jeff, 3 of her 5 daughters, Erin, Lena, and Sarah, 2 son-in-laws, and 6 grandchildren.  It was a lot.  But the house is big so it wasn’t as chaotic as it sounds.  Everyone had questions and again they ranged from my youth, to motherhood, to professions, to this moment.  It was almost indescribable.  It was funny and light, thoughtful and caring, We laughed at the situation, at our families, and at each other.  But in the end all that resided was love for one another and joy in each other's company.  

There are several topics or ideas that stand out in my mind and that will always be remembered.  First, you can tell a child that Grandma has a new sister and you have a new aunt and they simply take it in stride, say "Cool.  It's nice to meet you," and carry on with their card game or whatever they were doing.  There are no questions or need for clarification.  They don't wonder how you could have a sister and not know it; did you lose her?  It just is.  Second, it is not possible to "know" my mom without also including many stories of my dad.  Her thoughts and actions cannot be understood without first knowing who she was in relation to her husband.  This of course, is partially a product of the time in which she has lived.  In the 1950s a woman simply didn't have the safety net for personal dreams or aspirations.  

Another piece of the story that I will always hold in my heart is the fact that simple acts can and do make monumental differences in other people's lives.  And we cannot anticipate what they will be.  I told Amy the "Baby May" story not long after we met.  I told it with only love and affection and the hope to communicate that she was dearly loved by her 4 siblings even before she was born.  While she enjoyed and appreciated the story what she took from it demonstrates the caring loving person she is.  She had long envisioned the painful decision of a mother carrying and delivering a baby and then releasing her into the world.  She knew this would be a decision that would have long lasting effects on the mother.  But she had never dreamed that the siblings would also have been old enough to feel the pain of this loss.  In her words, "I never dreamed that others would have been hurt too."  

And one final vignette, shortly after M and I started communicating with A he added her to his Family Tree on Ancestry.com.  He thought little of the act and openly states that he added A at the same time that he added Aunt P.  But this simple act had lasting implications.   As A and I talked about it yesterday she said she didn't realize how the feeling of connection had evaded her for her entire life.  This simple website action brought home to her that after all these years she was wanted, loved, and at long last connected to another person.  She talked about a lifetime of feeling untethered.  Even though she was adopted and loved by her parents as an adopted child, she realized that she never got over the act of being given up.  And because she was one of three adopted children in her family, the connection was still missing.  They simply became three children in a home with a mom and dad. So with this one keystroke by her half-brother, her entire view of family was changed.  The simplest things that we do just because we are being honest to who we are has the power to entirely shift another's experience of love, connection, and family. 

Now finally, in closing I will share that after leaving breakfast, A called her best friend to tell her the next chapter of her siblings saga and simply said, "I have the best big sister in the world!""

Embracing my 68th Year

 On this eve of my 68th year, I have nothing but anticipation in my heart and mind.  Five years ago I joined the ranks of retired educators, which now in retrospect looks more like a hiatus.  I have made my prodigal return to the school I left in exactly the same position I held.  But this time it feels manageable with a balance of time with my children and grandchildren.  I am back in the city of my home of more than 40 years.  Everything about this homecoming looks bright.  My family and friends are here, my spiritual life is in balance, and there is a renewed purpose to who I am and the gifts and talents I have to offer.  

What if?

 On this day when the unimaginable has happened, when the Supreme Court has struct down Roe v Wade, when the highest court in the land has seen as its duty the need to restrict rights rather than broaden them, I think back. I think back to a 17 year old girl living in rural Iowa. I feel that sinking feeling she experienced in her gut when she knew she was pregnant and had not an inkling of an idea of what to do next. She told her father because she knew he would somehow magically know what to do and wouldn't waste his time on the shame of it or the "you should have" lecture. There would be no loud voices and no punishment for this error in judgement. There wasn't a moment to lose. It was July and college and her future was on the horizon. There wasn't time for thoughts of keeping the baby or adopting out the baby; there was only the thought that this father would not sacrifice the future of his youngest daughter for a teenage love that had dissolved just weeks earlier. But what if? What if he and her mother hadn't already experienced the challenge of raising a baby as teenagers. What if he didn't have a Presbyterian minister who could access a safe abortion in New York City the year before Roe v Wade legalized abortion? What if he hadn't been willing to make the sacrifice of financing airfare and medical services in 1972 on a contractor's salary? What if? This girl would have become a legal adult in three weeks time. And within another several months, the baby would be born into a drafty farm house to an unemployed single mother. The anticipated empty nest of her parents would have been replenished with a second generation to raise. Her horizon would now hold only the option of a secretarial or a service industry job. The prospects for marriage would be far from the destined PhD educated man who would soon become a small business owner. And it would be ages before she could ever envision living comfortably in a 3 bedroom/2 bathroom house with 2 beautiful children. That dream of her college degree and teaching credential would be decades away from fruition, if ever. So when we speak of women's rights being cut off through the act of banning abortion, this is the life choice we are setting before our young female adults: single motherhood, minimum wage jobs and few prospects for a life partner that would help to lift them out of poverty and into home ownership. And yet, today in America, that is exactly what we have done.

Your Dad

I never knew a man who wanted to become a father as much as yours did.  It was all part of the scenario when we met.  "I want to get married and have kids."  I will always be grateful that you came along as soon as you did.  He would have quickly grown impatient waiting for his family dream.  The days of your birth were without measure for him.  He could not have been happier.  He never cared about having a boy or girl, only that you were healthy babies.  The hardest thing he did in the early days was go to work and leave you at home.  A daily walk or two to the store was always on our agenda.  The minute you showed up, he would stop everything and pick you up and hold you.  He would proudly present you to a waiting customer or salesperson with that big smile of his and eyes ablaze.  "This is my baby." Oftentimes I would take over the cash register so he could enjoy his time with both of you.  Diapers were changed on top of the freezer filled with bags of ice and we stayed until someone needed a nap or to be fed.  Your dad was always sad to see us go; he would stand at the door and wave and wave like he might not see you again for days.  When 5:30 rolled around he'd bound in the door and look for his kids to give them both a hug and kiss.  

He loved you with a love that was deep and true.  There was nothing you could ever have done that could have broken that bond.  He firmly believed from day one that you were the smartest, cutest, funniest children that had ever been born.  No matter what you were doing, he thought it was perfect and you became the focus of all of his stories.  Guess what Maria did.  Watch what Dave can do.  With each of your achievements he wanted it to be recorded and remembered for all time.  He was constantly telling me to take a picture of whatever you were doing.  So there are pictures of Dave holding a kitten, Maria eating a peach, and the two of you displaying your first savings account booklets.  He rarely wanted his picture taken so this one is special; it was taken outside of the Lawrence Hall of Science in 1985 after you had once again proven that you were Daddy's little geniuses.  

As the holder of these memories, I share them with you so that on this Father's Day, you will once more feel the love that was endlessly given to you and intended to last for all of eternity.  Let this love of your childhood hold you while you feel the embrace of your Dad as he once again swings you up and you see the world from the perch on top of his shoulders.  

Setting Your Sights

 The metaphor of setting a sight comes from the action of looking through a gun's sight and focusing on the target before taking the shot.  In life, we gradually learn to set our sights on a number of targets.  As a child mine was usually set on what my siblings had or getting the last of the cake crumbs.  As we age, we learn to set our sights on much longer term goals; a good grade on the history test, training for the race, or learning a new skill.  Eventually we look towards a college education, getting that first job and suddenly we lose track of the target.  Life takes over.  It just becomes one goal that follows another - marriage, kids, managing school and work and kids and now we can no longer see the sight or the target.  We have gone from looking intently at the target to spinning mildly out of control.  And one day we stop the merry-go-round.  We can't get off but we can definitely downshift and slow the pace.  We once again look through the sight and remember the target. Each decision now is aimed at making that target come into view.  Nothing is taken for granted.  

A line is drawn in the sand; I wake in the morning and focus on the goal.  I choose to be happy that I am awake, not irritated that I woke up and am no longer asleep.   I greet the day with a feeling of awe in the beauty of the sun rising and I am witness to its glory.  On my morning walk everything is new and fresh; the birds are singing, lizards scurry to safety, the glistening sunlight on trees blowing in the breeze reminds me that everything is changing all the time.  This sight you see right here right now won't be visible in the blink of an eye.  So take it in, relish it, and be grateful you were the spectator.  

Since my move back home, I have become extremely aware of this setting of sights and perspective.  For the first time in more than 20 years I became a renter and no longer in charge of the home I live in.  On my first day here, I questioned everything.  Had I noticed the chips and cracks in the kitchen tile or that there are three different kinds of linoleum in three adjoining rooms, or the fact that there was no dishwasher?  What was I thinking?  I was only thinking of my "sight."  My sights were set on being home, being walking distance to my family, and finally being able to once again grow in faith and love.  On day two, my sights completely changed.  Everything was unpacked and placed where it could be appreciated.  The framed photos, the art, the mementos that had been gifted to me seemed to surround and envelop me in the safety of home.  I could no longer see the tile cracks or mismatched flooring and didn't care one bit about a dishwasher.  I was home and I had all the things around me that bring joy. I began the work of arranging and rearranging furniture to get in my sights exactly the things on which I wanted to see and focus.  The living room was set toward the backyard, the computer found its own niche in the corner, and the prayer chair eventually came to face the altar with a small table beside it to house the books and journal.  

Now that the move is complete my sights gradually are focusing in on the call to service.  I have been brought back to this place in this time to continue the work that was underway before I left.  I am here to grandmother, to find my professional place in education, and to continue my faith journey.  So with every question that presents itself, I grant it the time and perspective it deserves.  I sit with it in silence. I pray about it and listen.  My yes is ready only if it moves me closer to the path that has been set before me.  My perspective is a positive one and focused on the future.  I choose not to dwell on lost time in the past or mistakes that may have been made, but only on what is coming and how I can serve.  Yes, life is complicated at times, but we can easily unravel the knots by taking the time to look through the sight and focus on the target.  I set my sights on love, on spending my time well, and on sharing my gifts.    

With Whom Do You Share Your Family Secrets?

 Less than two weeks ago a family secret was released into the world.  No matter how you prepare for the thought that there may be more to your family than previously thought, it still comes as a bit of a shock.  And being human, when things throw you off kilter, the first thing you want to do is tell someone.  You yearn for that shared looked of shock and surprise so you no longer feel alone in your dizzying stupor.  This is human connection at its strongest.  Listen to my story and tell me what you think.  

A few years ago I learned about the ring theory in grief work.  You, as the primary grievers: spouse, children, parents receive comfort from those just outside your circle, your close friends.  So comfort flows inward and grief flows out.  This all came into my mind this week as the secret began to find its way into a wider circle.  The question now became who do you tell once that inner circle has been informed and supported. It only takes one person who responds with anger in place of surprise to make you question who I am telling and why.   Is it gossip, am I sharing this just for the effect?  Is that who I am?  But the secret is not just a secret; it is a person, a human being that we, as kind and loving humans want to welcome into our inner circle.  We want to know this person, share our stories, have coffee or lunch together.  We want to meld this new person into our family and give witness to the new us that has been created.  In the spirit of openness, honesty, and transparency, people who know me need to know that we have grown and been changed.  I cannot become one who has to guard my topics of conversation depending on who I am with, trying to remember who knows and who doesn't.  I was never any good at lying so I'm not going to get caught in an "Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are one more now."  In the business of secrets, just as with grief, the telling moves outward and the support moves in.  I tell you my story, you look surprised, I nod and begin the arduous task of fielding the unanswerable questions of who is the other parent, how did this happen, were they in relationship, how did they stay married?  With time, the questions fade to black and the look of puzzlement has been replaced with joy.  Immediately the joy I have felt for the last two weeks in having found a new member of my family is transferred to my confidant.  The questions are no longer about the event but about the person.  What is s/he like?  Where does s/he live?  Are you going to meet him/her? And finally, we are able to move on, with you knowing that I have put my trust in you to have and hold this new information about me and about my family.  But the thing that is left in my heart after each of these encounters is gratitude; gratitude that this person is in the world and I get to share my life and world with he/r and gratitude that I have this circle of friends with whom I can share my story.   

What Would Happen if We All Answered the Call to Serve?

 Many years ago, I accepted a position as a 7th grade English teacher at a school that served a neighborhood of Mexican immigrants struggling to make ends meet.  I had no doubt in my teaching skills after all my years of reading and writing with first and second graders.  But something else pulled me in: service.  I was using my gifts and talents to guide these students to become first generation college graduates.   This was a school that lived and breathed service.  There was an intern program supporting student teachers; the staff worked an 8 hour day with 3 different shifts.  The kids were there from 7 AM to 6 PM incorporating time for homework as well as athletics into their schedule.  The students were served breakfast, lunch and an afternoon snack from a soup kitchen.  The faculty would often muse at the fact that these middle schoolers would one day become accountants or lawyers and tell the story of their meals from a soup kitchen.  But something else was going on in that soup kitchen that became a goal for me in later years.  Every Friday morning, our kids shared their tables with volunteers making sandwiches for the poor and homeless.  They were an ironic combination of retired men and women wanting only to give mixed with parochial high school students earning their service hours.  The retired women were all nicely dressed while the men wore their Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts.  The students were getting their hours in before school started so they usually sported their school logo shirts and jeans.  I loved being a witness to the camraderie that set in between these 17 and 70 year olds.   It all looked like great fun as they found the perfect technique of spreading the peanut butter and jelly or the most efficient alignment of the ham and cheese.  The older teachers all set this as a life goal - someday that's what I'm going to do; when I grow up I want to make sandwiches for the poor and laugh with these high schoolers.  Today, that dream came true.  I have been toying around with service and exactly what my call has been as I learn to embrace my twilight years.  When I saw sandwich making as an option on the volunteer calendar, I jumped at the chance.  And it was everything I dreamed it would be.  Present was a staff member teaching the fine art of efficient sandwich making and I was joined by fellow retirees and high school kids.  We laughed with and at each other and we all learned something about ourselves and one another.  Eventually the conversation came around to what brought us there; the common element was service.  The question that lingered in the air was what would happen if everyone did something to serve the poor.  What kind of world would we live in if our vision was outward; if we could see there was a need and do what we could to alleviate it?  I, for one, plan to offer this tiny little service again next week and see where it leads.  

When Protecting Ourselves Actually Doesn't

 Sometimes in life terrible things happen.  We turn the corner and there it is. Someone has died, someone is terminally ill, we learn something awful about someone we love and sometimes it's us.  As we come around that corner we realize that we can no longer get back to where we were.  We are now heading an entirely different direction.  We know that we should invite our advocates and supporters to accompany us but it's too embarrassing, too shameful.  We just can't.  So we close ourselves off, we huddle into our fetal position ball and protect our vital parts.  We stop associating with those who know or we take on the role of someone who doesn't care.  We wrap our heart in skin and bones and pray for it to harden, we go mute and we choose never to speak of the IT again.  We slowly, gradually, step forward in this new way of being; the being that has walled this one part of us off.  It is unaccessible to the world and slowly it becomes unrecognizable to even us, the perpetrator.  We find the words to avoid it and they roll off our tongue like a memorized verse; he's sick, she died, I don't remember.  The years fall over each other and eventually no one recalls it and the IT actually isn't spoken of again.  But, sadly it cannot be covered up or shrouded, buried or hidden.  It will always be in our deepest recesses and every so often it will show up in our darkest hours.  We cannot avoid who we are or what we have done.  We cannot protect ourselves by hiding away from the past.  It is all a part of who we are and who we become.  As we try harder and harder to avoid it, it begins to take on a life of its own.  The secret must become known.  It can no longer be hidden.  We peel away the corner of its shroud and absorb the light it gives off.  It does not destroy us and we set about to find the one person with whom we can share the secret.  And the world does not collapse in on itself.  In exchange, we find this tiny moment of peace from the toil of hiding the IT.  The next day comes and we inch the secret a little farther into the clearing.  And again the world does not end.  But we feel the freedom of releasing the wall of our inner being, brick by brick.  Day by day, we come to understand that life will go on and we can live more fully as we embrace the whole person that we are; the one that has made mistakes, the one that has covered her tracks, the one that is human.  We mesh that person with the one who loves deeply, the one who gives with a full heart, and the one who can finally learn to forgive herself.  

Enough!

An Open Letter to the Authorities:

As educators and students, we have done everything you have asked, demanded, or required to curb school shootings and none of them have had any impact.  Our children are still dying; being slaughtered at the hands of angry young men who have easy access to firearms.  They are being shot in cold blood as they cower under their desks or self-created blockades and you, the ones who have sworn to protect them do nothing; literally nothing.  You asked me to pray for Uvalde and I have complied but not for what you might expect.  I pray day and night that this is the one; that this school shooting will be the one to bring us to our knees.  

We ask our children for their forgiveness that in our deep desire to protect them, everything we put them through was for naught.  You said increase mental health services.  You said limit access at entry points.  You said employ armed guards.  You said have regular active shooter drills (without concern for the trauma this supposed preparation might have on the hearts and minds of our youngest children).  We did all of it and in return the sacrifice of helpless children has not only continued but increased.  We have raised a generation of children to fear for the one place outside of their home that they should feel safest, their school.  We have trained our boys and young men that an active shooter drill is a lesson that they can use later when life feels hopeless.  

The one thing you didn't do is limit access to firearms.  You refuse to pass a Red Flag law; you refuse to take automatic weapons off the streets, even though they can serve no possible purpose in our society; you refuse to admit that you might have been wrong.  In the name of our children, let's try a new option. Let's start by putting our children above the gun lobby, its money, and its power.  Say yes to the Red Flag law.  Say yes to banning assault weapons.  Say yes to raising up a generation of children who don't need to memorize code words or at the age of 5 know how to excel in the building of blockades before they learn the power of literacy.  If we, as Americans, truly believe in the sanctity of life, let's do everything we can to be sure our children can grow into healthy and productive adults.  May the 19 children of the Uvalde school shooting be the last that we grieve and mourn as we lay them to rest.  

Final Thoughts on the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises

God has called me his Beloved.  I am HIs and He is mine.  The Exercises began exactly

where I left of in the cell of El Retiro more than five years earlier,  feeling completely

enveloped in the love of God and yet fearful of meeting God's deep loving gaze. 

The loving gaze of God was something to which I would slowly grow accustomed

during the Exercises and learn to welcome.  In the beginning tears always accompanied

this experience.  Who was I that God could love me so deeply?  This was followed by

the hollowing out of my ego and sinful self to make room for the loving presence of God

that would reside in me forever.  These were days of extreme discomfort and unexplainable

tears.  When it had passed, my promise was to love, honor, and praise God in my words,

thoughts, and actions.  I began to say Yes following the model of Mary and I never stopped. 

Yes to daily prayer, yes to listening for the still, small voice of God in whatever form it took,

yes to my loved ones, yes to the call - whatever it might be. 

 

Throughout the Exercises I "heard" God in new and astounding ways.  My weekly meetings

with Kelly, my Spiritual Guide, taught me to pay attention to the little things, to words and

phrases that I repeated n my sharing from week to week or month after month.  The result

was a primary teacher's Word Wall on my bathroom mirror reminding me daily of how God

was working in and through me.  God spoke to me in my dreams - a totally new experience

for this deep sleeper who has always yearned to remember her dreams.  God woke me with

songs in my head - some that I hadn't thought of for 30 years and some not since my

childhood.  What started as a lyrical mystery to be solved soon just became a welcome

reminder that God was with me at all times and nudging me into an awareness of that

presence in new and beautiful ways.  I entered the world of Christian, not specifically

Catholic, music and will never be he same.  Prayer took over my life as a constant

conversation with God.  Each morning I started with my email devotionals as I always

had but not until I had wished my Beloved a good morning and entered into deep gratitude

for what may lie ahead in this day.  I delayed my rising just to be in the loving presence of

God.  I felt his love surround me as I lay in the hollow of His cupped hands.  I never found

a systematic prayer time for the Exercises but I looked forward each day to sitting in my

prayer chair and saying Hello to the God who was always waiting for my greeting.  I

learned to begin with quiet music to calm my head and after a few minutes would look up

to hold God's loving gaze, the small act that would lead me into new and deeper

understandings of my faith, my love, and myself.  Ignatian Contemplation did not come

easily to me but as I stuck with it (thanks once again, to encouragement from Kelly) the

world of scripture as I had known it was broken wide open.  Readings I had heard in church

for decades, had read numerous reflections about , and had even taught  in Religion classes

suddenly held great epiphanies of what Jesus was all about and on a personal level,

God's plan for me.  As I traveled with Jesus during his ministry, God revealed to me what

my own journey had been and what He still had in store for me.  God spoke to me in my

thoughts but they were easily recognizable as being of and from Him.  He was now in my

head and heart and spirit.  My daily walks became time to give thanks for creation; I learned

to slow down and embrace all that had been given to me; to give thanks to be in this place

in this time.  My days were filled with gratitude and I was finally learning to live in the

moment and to be intentional. I could feel God's presence throughout my day and

at times it was overwhelmingly powerful.  Just as I started my days with God I looked

forward to ending them there as well.  In the daily Examen, God and I went through the

day together, sharing all the people and events that held grace for me and were messages

of where God was leading me. I finally understood the power of this simple prayer and

how it leads to discernment ever so gently and assuredly day by day. 

 

The urge became stronger and stronger to return home to the loving embrace of my family

and friends, to my spiritual home of the Mission Church, to the work that had been left

unfinished at Sacred Heart Nativity School.  The voices were many; Lucia, my

granddaughter whose dreams I will never again doubt, my mom who constantly

found new ways to say she didn't need me in Florida and it was OK to leave, 

my friends who revealed to me that my presence would be a loving balm to their wounds;

but more than all of these was the call of Jesus to return to the Eucharist.  The only thing

that all of these voices shared was their location - HOME.  So the release began.  I opened

my tight fisted-hold on my home, my possessions, my plan and embraced the unmarked

trail that was God's plan for me and me alone.  I learned, for the first time in my life, to

put my complete trust in a presence beyond that of my head or heart.  I embraced Ignatius's

prayer, the Suscipe and it became part of my daily mantra.  (Take Lord, receive all my

liberty, my memory, my understanding, my entire will - all I have and possess. You have

given all to me, Now I return it.  All of it is yours.  Dispose of it according to your will. Give

me only your love and your grace, that's enough for me.)  I took on the easy yoke of

Jesus and learned to love as He did, to leave my possessions behind and follow Him,

and to look at the world through his compassionate eyes. 

 

The me that I was, has been, and continues to change.  I look forward to what God has

planned for me as I listen for His voice in prayer, contemplation, music, and my dreams. 

I sit back and wait patiently, knowing that all God has planned for me is goodness. 

I was reminded of this at a recent homily about how God answers prayers - he

responds with yes, not yet, or I have a better idea.  I am trusting completely in all

three of these answers as I discern God's plan for all the grace and blessings that

wait for me in the days and years ahead.  

Happiness in the Shape of a Ring

Oh how a picture texted can bring joy!  Last night Dave sent a picture of a diamond ring on Tessa's finger.  Yes, it's happening.  Dave is getting married and they are a beautiful couple together.  My heart could not hold any more happiness for two people even if it tried.  I am thrilled for what the future holds for them.  To see him happy, this happy is something I never dreamed was possible.  They are two mature, confident adults who complement each other perfectly.  Life is full of beautiful surprises.  A move to Kentucky, a house bought sight unseen, a golden find on a dating website and you're looking face to face at happily ever after. Here's to many years of long conversations, exciting travels, and family adventures.  Cheers to Dave and Tessa, Tessa and Dave.

Waking Up to a New Year in Loss

 I said goodbye to my dad 10 months ago.  I knew the first days would be hard and I knew his birthday and anniversary would be another reminder of his absence.  I knew about the holidays with the empty chair but I wasn't ready for New Year's Day.  I woke up this morning and after starting my day I had the dark realization that at the ripe old age of 67 I was starting my first year without a father.  Yes, death is forever so my dad is still dead.  Our love is eternal but the body is transient.  

I miss him, I miss his daily advice - whether I took it or not.  I miss him being a part of the couple that was my mom and dad.  I miss being a daughter and being called T every time we said hello or goodbye.  I miss his voice and I miss his presence in my life.  

Once I acknowledge the loss, it turns into something else.  As the older generation slowly leave us one at a time, the next in line step into the outlines of the footprints.  On one side of my family I have my mom and one aunt left.  And on the other, an aunt and an uncle.  That means that my siblings and I are only a few short years away from being the family elders.  That is something that leaves me feeling a bit untrained for.  Where is the workshop for doling out sage wisdom, or telling the youth that they have it easy?  I will ponder this a bit but I think my model for this role will be my grandparents.  None of them ever gave advice unless it was requested.  Then it was frank and to the point.  But it always ended with and "I love you" hug and kiss on the forehead.  But the wisdom was free flowing.  So I step forward without a dad but in his place are two grandchildren for whom I have been called to lead.