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.   

My Response to the Contemplation of the Kingdom of Jesus

 My Lord and Savior, I come to you with all that I am and offer it for your service.  In partnership with you and your disciples, I lay my gifts at your feet to be used as you deem important in the work of spreading Your Goodness and love throughout the world.  I wish to follow your model in trusting in God's protection that I might conquer the fear of bearing personal pain as I stand beside you in the work ahead.  I offer you unending praise, glory, and love to magnify Your being.  I offer you my YES if that is what you desire.  If I can be of service in the work at hand, I ask You to use my words, my prayers, and my actions in order to fulfill the purpose for which I was created.  

My Favorite Uncle

Paul Allen is, today and has always been, my favorite uncle. That line has become more and more humorous as the years have gone by, as he has outlasted all of the rest. But the love and sentiment behind it are nothing to be laughed at.

My childhood memories are full of Uncle Paul and Aunt Arma Jo. They were my first definition of neighbor and family. I had no idea that other children did not have a loving aunt and uncle living just a house or two away. It seemed as natural as having a mom and dad. Just the thought that they were close-by was all I needed for reassurance during my youth that love was within reach. I could simply look down the road and know that there were loving arms waiting for me through that door.

I have never known anyone who could make me feel more appreciated than my Uncle Paul. Being the third of a family of four, it was sometimes difficult to get anyone's attention, but that was never true of Paul. The minute he saw me, everything would stop. He would smile and shout out my name like I was the only kid on the planet. Even today, that is still true as he smiles his "Paul smile" and says "Hey Ter," as I walk in. His smile and the sparkle in his eyes tell me that I am loved and all my worries melt away. Nothing else matters; Uncle Paul is here to love and protect me.

My Uncle Paul has loved me throughout all of life's joys and sorrows. He was there for all the moments that counted; happy or sad. I have endured the death of my younger brother, celebrated the success of multiple college degrees, been married, divorced, and moved on. And in all of this was the loving support of my uncle. That is certainly not to say that he always took my side. One of the most important gifts of his being is his ability to tell you straight when you are mistaken or taking the wrong road and to get back on track. It may not look like a typical view of love, but it has been through his advice that I have learned to experience love in times of personal disappointment. During these moments of guidance, he never wanted to hurt my feelings and only had my personal happiness at heart. When my tears came, he was always there to wrap me in his arms and tell me that it was all going to be fine. And I knew it was true.

Now as we look toward the future, we are both aware that our years together are numbered. And so, I take time to share the blessing that his love has been to me throughout my life. I know that love is eternal and my love for my uncle will live on through my children and the stories they tell their children and loved ones but I take a moment to say thank you. Thank you Uncle Paul, for all the advice, the hugs, the kisses, and the swift kick now and then that only you could give, but most of all, thank you for the love.   

Contemplation of the Incarnation

At the beginning of what's known as the Second Week of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, I entered into the Contemplation of the Incarnation. It has found a home in my heart and head and given me new ways of looking at others and moving in the world.

In this meditation, St. Ignatius invites us to imagine the Trinity looking down upon the earth and seeing it filled with human beings. We are invited to use our imaginations to ponder what the Trinity sees and notices in gazing upon all the people. Ignatius adds a few thoughts on what we might see: some healthy, others sick, some weeping, and others laughing. He invites us to notice the blindness and aimlessness and to hear how people are talking to each other. Finally, he invites us to hear the Trinity say, “Let us work the redemption of the human race,” as God plans to send the angel to Mary and then watches as the Incarnation is set into motion.

As I began this contemplation, I envisioned the Trinity looking down at the world and all they survey. They are first struck by the beauty of it all. This creation is still absolutely stunning to witness. The zoomed out lens which they are viewing is that familiar sight that today we recognize as The Blue Marble, the picture taken by the Apollo 17 crew of Earth from space. As their focus narrows, they take in the forests, mountains and oceans still teaming with the flora and fauna that came into being so long ago. Their view continues to come into focus and they take in the glory of the abundant colors - the colors of people - fair-skinned and dark-skinned, the colors of their clothing, brightly hued. As they rest in this moment these human beings create an amazing tapestry beyond description. As their vision comes closer and closer, the sounds of these beautiful people become audible. There is the joyful laughter of children playing and the gentle hum of people working together for the greater good. But soon, those harmonious sounds are overpowered by loud and coercive voices. These are the sounds of adults yelling at one another, calling each other names. The Divine soon realize that what appeared to be diversity has now revealed itself to be division. People are not listening to each other and so many are being led by greed and power. The new god of worship is domination over rather than loving with.

As the gaze of the Trinity takes it all in, they realize that this is something that is not going to fix itself. Somehow, they are going to have to intervene. They need a plan and the time is now. They are Divine Love and they soon realize that they must start again and create the rebirth of love in this, Their beloved people. What better way could love be reborn than in the incarnation of God in the Baby Jesus? They agree that Jesus will be sent with the Holy Spirit to guide Him in his human form. In this way, God's people can once again know Him, love Him and come to serve Him through their love for one another.

While They are deeply distraught at all They have seen, They are also reassured that love will win in the end. Each person on Earth has been born with the spark of God's being. It is always there and can never be extinguished. As each of us loves into existence all that we can be, so will each person with whom we come in contact. This is hope in its truest sense. You and I and everyone living has the power of one. As I encounter God's presence within me and I become my best self, my love and service emanates into the world and it ripples outward to my friends, family, and strangers with whom I interact.

So, as the Trinity take in the beauty and brokenness of the world They are confident that Their love will overpower greed and division. Jesus will be born in the lowest possible form and will save the world.  

What Will You Feed Them?

As Thanksgiving approaches, our minds all turn toward dinner and family gatherings.  This year I want to feed my family more than the turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie that traditionally have been the centers of attraction.  As we gather for the first time in two years, I have so much more with which I want  to nourish them.  

Feed them love.  As I rush to envelop each of them in my arms, I want them to feel and know that their mother and grandmother loves them with a love that is unconditional and knows no bounds.  I want them to feel that hug long after we have disentangled ourselves from each other.

Feed them hospitality.  As Dave flings open wide the doors of his home, we enter knowing that what is his is now ours for the time we share together.  We each bring our part to the feast - food, beverages, and helping hands. We know that  we will cook together, eat together and clean together. And in the end,  all that really matters is that we are gathering at the table together in love.    

Feed them gratitude.  As we go around the table and voice what we are thankful for, my response is simply each of them.  In this time of living so far apart, when I think about what I am most grateful for, it is these five humans.  They top every gratitude list that I have ever made.  

Feed them acceptance.  As our conversations grow and wind around life and love and beliefs, let them know that anything that they may worry about will not be judged, evaluated, or criticized.  We are all welcome at this table; we come with our gifts as well as our flaws.  This is what it is to be family.  

Feed them joy.  The Gianninis have always been a family of laughter.  It may be sarcastic, but we know how to laugh.  There is always abundant  joy in our time together.  This year as we welcome Tessa into the fold, I know there will be stories and there is not one of our family stories that doesn’t finish with joy at the end.  

Feed them compassion.  The last two years have been a difficult journey for all of us.  We have been apart and trying to keep our individual ships afloat until we could be together again. As we reconnect, we  rest assured that despite the trials,  we all come with nothing but love and understanding for each other..  

Feed them patience.  Work schedules and travel plans and cooking family dinners all take patience.  We come together knowing that the turkey may take longer than we thought, the gravy may be lumpy, and the wine may go quicker than anticipated.  We approach it all with understanding and flexibility knowing that the only goal is to be together.

When Thanksgiving Thursday turns into Friday and Saturday and next year and beyond, I want to look back on 2021 as the year we fed each other all the best of what we had to give.  Let us feed our joy and compassion, patience and acceptance, hospitality and gratitude, and most of all love. 

Morning Offering

Dear God, thank you for the gift of this new day.  I pray that whatever waits for me will serve as a blessing to you.  Lord, I offer everything that I will think, do , or say and dedicate it to your service.  Please protect me and keep me close to your side.  Help me keep your commandments and seek divine goodness.  Guide me in sharing all that I have with those who may be in need in order that I might see your face in everyone that I encounter.  At the end of the day, may I return to you in gratitude with open hands and a loving heart so that all I have been given is returned to you. 

Amen

The First Principle and Foundation

As is every other human being, I am the incarnate image of God and as such, am God’s beloved.  My greatest desire is to live in that love forever.  In an effort to return that infinite love, I promise to praise, honor, and serve God.  

Everything I have is created by God and has been gifted for my use and protection.  God has given me access to anything that might be of assistance in honoring my creator.  I yearn to know God more fully and to continually return that great love with the  help of the gifts that have been bestowed upon me.  

Hence as a steward of creation, I promise to protect the earth and everything in it so these gifts can be used to glorify God.  However, no part of creation can ever take the place of God nor impede me from returning God’s love.  Everything must work toward the single goal of praising God.  

It is important that I keep all of creation in balance so that I can seek and return God’s love.  Everything in creation has value only to the extent that it can be used by all of humanity to serve God.  There is no preference for health or sickness, wealth or poverty, success or failure, life or death as each of these can be conducive to searching out God’s love and calling forth our loving response.  The only choice that needs to be made is the determination of what will deepen God’s love in me.  

Neither can I be the obstacle that  stands in the way of responding to God’s love.  I cannot hide behind my ego and self-will or the walls of protection that I have built to make myself believe that I am serving God when in actuality I have replaced God’s will with my own.  

God is alive in me and together we will work to co-create the earthly journey of my human existence so that I might be the voice and hands of God at work in the world.  As God’s love is revealed to me, my response will be to live out the love of God that surrounds and protects me.  

My Spiritual Autobiography

I have no memory of when I was introduced to God by my family.  I was baptized at Grace Presbyterian Church as an infant, the third of four children,  but I don't recall ever going  back there again after my younger brother's baptism.  God seemed to be more of an assumption or an idea in our house than an actual being to which I could be introduced.  I remember being told to thank God, to say my prayers, and that God could answer my prayers. God seemed to be more present at my grandparents' house.  He was in the conversation there like God was an additional person in the house.  There was a cross on the wall, a picture of Jesus in the bedroom, and a devotional on the end table by Grandma's chair that fascinated me.  It was called "The Upper Room."   I had no idea of the meaning of the title until many years later.

So God just was.  It seemed that I was left to my own devises to determine the role he was to play in my life.  My prayer life was limited as a child.  I learned the "Our Father" but I don't remember how.  And it seemed that when you really wanted something and there was no other way to get it, you could ask God for it.  And maybe it would happen.  I remember have a warm feeling when I thought about God.  It was reassuring to know that I wasn't alone in life. 

Then an unimaginable event occurred that thrust our entire family into church and the consoling arms of God.  A tragic accident happened.  My younger brother drowned in a creek.  Suddenly God was everywhere and surrounded everyone.  I heard his name coming from everyone I met.  People talked about God having taken Davey, and that God needed him more than we did.  So now I was more confused than ever.  I began to live in fear.  If God had taken my younger brother, then I must be next. 

Just before this event, we had joined a wonderful country church where everybody knew everybody.  It is a mystery as to how Hardin Presbyterian Church entered our lives.  I've asked my parents and my aunt and uncle and no one can seem to recall how we started attending services there.  But it was closely aligned with Davey's death.  In my child's mind these two things are connected.  Church and God came into my life with the most awful grief a child can imagine.  This was juxtaposed with the infinite consolation of friends and family and became the only thing that allowed me to continue growing in my relationship with God.  So here was the beginning of my spiritual education.  We attended church and Sunday School every Sunday.  I learned to read , memorize, and interpret the Bible, I went to summer camp.  However, I still wasn't spiritually connected to God; I definitely held a grudge about losing my brother and somehow He was to blame.  There was a picture of Jesus in the church that held my attention every week.  He was sitting on a tree stump surrounded by a wooded area and he had the most loving eyes.  Jesus became my friend and confidant; my favorite song was "Jesus Loves Me" and my favorite Christmas carol was "Away in a Manger."  Jesus made sense to me.  I knew that God was his father so for many years, God was the old bearded man in a long robe that lived in heaven.  According to my calculations heaven was located just above the clouds.  I didn't really have a place for the Holy Spirit.  I knew its first earthly appearance was at the first Pentecost and Paul wrote a lot about it but in my mind it would just come around when needed. 

My beliefs as taught by the Presbyterian church stayed very concrete for many years.  As I aged into my teen years I struggled with the idea of predestination but I also did not completely understand it.  Confirmand me wondered, what was the use?  If my life was preordained by God, what was the purpose of me simply following the plan?  This would be a conundrum for my entire life.  How do I know what is God's plan and what is my plan? This was the beginning of my curiosity about faith and organized religion and the difficulty of finding its intersection.  It was also about this time that  a junior high English teacher saw something in me that no one else had.  He started recommending books to me and meeting with me to discuss them afterwards.  Move fast forward to a conversation that we found ourselves in about evolution/creationism.  This was my first introduction to a different translation of the Bible.  I don't blame the Presbyterian belief system but my own concretism for this missing piece.  I began looking at authors of the books of the Bible in a completely different light.  And it changed everything.  Now it all became a slurry of who was writing, who was the audience, what was the intention?  This was added to my interpretation of a story written 2 thousand years ago and how it might be helpful to a teenager in the 1960s. 

Although my faith often confused me, it was something that I never wanted to be without.  There was never a time that I rebelled against it or felt the urge to set it aside.  I went to church weekly with my family until high school graduation and continued the practice when I went off to college.  While I didn't become an active member of a church community at that time, I enjoyed dipping my toe into other religions and coming back home to the local Presbyterian church.  The Bible also continued to be a close companion.  I loved returning to the old memorized passages from my childhood.  It brought comfort during difficult times. 

After marriage, my commitment to my identification of being a Protestant was deeply challenged by marrying a devout Catholic.  We were married in the Catholic church which included a promise on my part to raise any children in the Catholic faith.  We talked for hours about this topic.  We both agreed that we had the advantage of being able to expose our children to both faiths and they would be so much the better for it.  But that never happened.  I attempted to find a Presbyterian home in Santa Clara but to no avail.  We started attending the Mission in Santa Clara and I was swallowed up, hook, line, and sinker.  The more I learned about Catholicism, the more I realized the differences were few.  I began taking classes from Fr. Phelan and he had the skill of making those differences disappear.  We worked our way through The Confessions of St. Augustine and before I knew it, I was being confirmed and was a born again Catholic.  I could not have been more content in my spiritual life.  We were a family in the most real sense of the word; praying together, everyone on the same page with the spiritual development of our children as our focus.  I was finding time to learn more about the saints, and icons and rites and rituals of the Catholic church.  I loved them all.  Before you knew it, I was finding peace and grace in daily mass.  It was just me and the old people but I was at peace with my God,  my brother Jesus, and Mother Mary. 

As time went on, I went back to school to get my credential and I had my first face to face introduction to the Jesuits at Santa Clara University.  I didn't know it at the time but this was another fork in my spiritual development road.  I learned to see God in all things and began to contemplate in action.  I got my credential and went to work in the Diocese.  Now I was truly living and breathing my faith in the every day world.  My faith grew through everyone I was associated with; principals, teachers, parents, religion coordinators, Directors of Religious Education.  I was in constant communication with my God throughout the day.  This became a prayer structure that would stay with me the rest of my life.  God, help this child, Oh God, look at that beautiful flower, God help me understand.  School became my church home 5 days a week and then as a family we worshipped at the actual church on Sundays.  Life would take me away from Diocesan education for a while but I was destined to return bigger and better than ever.  As the kids got older, we struggled to keep everyone content at the diocesan church and returned once again to The Mission.  It was there that we would all come to understand how everyone fits under the umbrella of love and acceptance of christianity.  It wasn't every week but when I was there, it was very good.  This is the church that would forever be home to me.  Later, when I would move away and was searching for a church home, this was the thing for which I was yearning - the rites and rituals along with a broader way of thinking of what it means to be Catholic, to be human. Even after my divorce when I grappled with the church's teaching on divorce I hung onto the icons and symbols of Catholicism. But that didn't keep me from doubting; was I still welcome?  During those darker days, I sat in the back of the Mission Church, clearly ashamed of being a divorced Catholic,  but still I was there, waiting to be fed and loved and accepted.  Gradually, the loving took hold and I came to understand that I would always be a child of God and that whether the teaching of the church accepted me or not, God did.  And God wanted me right there.

Eventually, I found my way back to Jesuit education.  But this time I was the educator and later the administrator.  Now, once again, I was living my faith in the everyday, the every minute of the day.  I discovered El Retiro Retreat Center and the joy of meeting God face to face in silent retreats and bringing that feeling of peace, love, and grace back with me to the real world.  Forever, I will remember God coming to me in the silence of prayer in my cell and calling me his beloved.  I was filled with a deep warmth from my head to my toes and could feel his love consume me.  I was his beloved.  From that day forward, I would carry God with me in a new and deeper way.

The next fork in the road was my retirement and moving away from The Santa Clara Mission.  After my move to Vancouver, Washington, I searched and searched for something close to that but my arbitrary rules got in the way.   As I look back there actually were a couple Jesuit churches that I had toyed around with but I wasn't willing to commit to the weekly drive to find what I needed.  In my search, I found my way back to the church of my birth.  I once again became a member of the Presbyterian church and was worshiping with my sister.  That brought many other gifts of which I am deeply aware but I always felt a tad out of sync.  One of those gifts was connecting with a spiritual director and her leading me to the writings of Richard Rohr.  This was a missing piece, quiet contemplation to spend time with my God.  I took on this habit with joy.  This also led me to another spiritual practice (in my mind) of the Morning Pages.  I wrote every morning and it was prayer being spewed out on the page.  I felt glorious.  But so often my practices begin glorious and then suddenly life gets in the way and the habit is lost, restarted and lost again.  I still miss finding the time for the Morning Pages.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to stay in Vancouver as this was followed by a move to Florida to support my parents.  I am now three years into life in the south and there is nothing close to Jesuit spirituality here.  I tried out the Presbyterian church again, I have also tried the local Catholic church.  But what has filled me on this leg of my journey is reading and podcasts- Richard Rohr and others from the  Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, Barbara Brown Taylor - she gave me permission to leave church and find God in the woods, and others who can fill my head, heart and spirit with a new way of thinking about God, about Jesus, and finally about the Holy Spirit.  I finally understand that the Holy Spirit is in me.  It is God's core that resides in my core.  It is my soul.

I live 100 miles away from my mother and my recently departed father as they requested, and know only a few people in the neighborhood.  I am becoming more and more protective of my quiet time.  I am alone most of the time and have ample opportunity for my running monologue with God that continues to ground me while lifting me up.  Look God, what a beautiful cardinal, Please, God, help my mom stay strong, God, what is next?  I am finding my place volunteering at the food pantry and seeing Jesus at every turn.  My contemplative prayer is back strong, I am praying the examen, and am now looking forward to once again discovering God as my beloved in the Ignatian Exercises Adventure.  I can't wait to begin. I can't wait to feel God's loving embrace.  

A Journey Inward

 I am preparing to take off on a new journey inside.  For several years I had yearned to do the Spiritual Exercises, a 30 day Ignatian retreat at El Retiro in Los Altos, California.  But while teaching, preparing to teach, and learning what to teach, it never fit into my summer schedule.  Now that I was retired there was time, but I could no longer get to El Retiro for 30 days.  Then it fell into my lap.  My friend, Nancy told me about an at-home retreat that was sponsored by Santa Clara University.  It is an hour of prayer a day for  9 months along with weekly spiritual direction.  So I am taking off on an inward journey.  I know it will be enlightening, joyful, painful, and difficult.  I also know that I will be a fuller, more complete person when May comes.  Pray for me.

Memory of Dad

I am one of the Allen kids.  I was the lucky one who got to be a part of both Don Allen's living and his dying.  I saw it all - the good and the bad.  A few months ago during one of my errand missions to the office when Dad could no longer walk that far, I came upon a photo that I had never seen before.  A young Don Allen was holding my  baby brother, Davey and sitting beside them was 2-year old me looking lovingly into my father's eyes.  A lot of what I did for the rest of my life was living out that look.  As anyone who knew Don Allen would attest, his expectations were always high, he freely admitted that they were higher still for his children.  Perfection was the expectation.  We were Allens and we knew from an early age what that entailed.  Be honest - tell the truth even when you know you're in trouble because it will be far worse if you lie about it.   That statement comes from personal knowledge.   Be true to your word, that is all you will ever need to stand on.  Work hard, just keep at it until you have mastered the task, no matter if you have the skills or training, if you have the desire you can do it.  He may have eventually come to understand that this was not always true of me.  But he never stopped pushing. Do the right thing. The right thing was drilled into the Allen kids from an early age.  It is a mixture of honesty, hard work, and authenticity.  There was no other version of our dad.  He never smoothed his edges for the company he was keeping.  If you knew him professionally or personally, he was the same.  That is a dying breed.  With his passing also goes his Popeye view of the world, "I am what I am" that would later become What you see is what you get.  So as we all remember Don Allen today, may it be with his famous smile and a chuckle or two of our own.  He was a man who lived his life as he ordained it to be and we all became better because of his presence in the world.

Dad's Obituary

December 30, 1930-February 15, 2021

Donald Allen Jr. passed away peacefully on February 15, 2021 at the age of 90. He lived in Council Bluffs, Iowa for more than 40 years before moving to the Sarasota/Bradenton, Florida area in 1973.  He is preceded in death by his son, David Allen, mother, Adelaide Price Allen, and father, Donald Allen.  He leaves behind his loving wife, Nadine Allen; his brother Paul Allen (Arma Jo Allen), his children Patricia Oneil, Michael Allen (Vickie Allen), and Teresa Allen, his grandchildren, Jenna Beaty, James Oneil, Maria Carter-Giannini, David Giannini, Christopher Allen, Timothy Allen, twelve great-grandchildren, and many nieces and nephews.

Don was born and raised in Council Bluffs Iowa.  He attended Dodge and Bloomer Schools and Abraham Lincoln high school where he met his lifelong sweetheart, Nadine.  He began his career in construction as an apprentice carpenter and learned every aspect of the construction trade.  Over the next 50 years he would be part owner of two companies; the first with his brother Paul Allen,  Allen Brothers Construction in Council Bluffs, Iowa, and the second with Billy Pullman, Associated Interior Systems, Inc. in Sarasota, Florida.  His only hobby was helping his friends and neighbors with construction projects. 

Don grew up during the Great Depression and its imprint would alway be a guiding force on his work ethic and financial decisions.  He believed strongly in honesty, hard work, and responsibility and passed those virtues onto his children and grandchildren.  He had a deep love for God, his country, and his family.  He fell in love with and married, Nadine Weatherill, his high school sweetheart, in 1950. They celebrated 70 years of that union this past July. Their life together was never dull.  They moved to Texas for a short time in 1951 where Patricia was  born.  There was a second move to Arkansas in 1960 and by that time Michael, Teresa, and David had joined the family.  Donald was proud of his children and the adults they became.  Although there would be many bumps in the road, he always believed the most difficult had been losing his son David, in childhood. 

Don created many lasting relationships in his work life.  He was well known for his constant strive for perfection.  Anyone in business with Don knew that you would be called on to give your personal best; nothing else would be accepted.  He will be greatly missed by his partners and peers who became friends.  Don was a mentor to many. 

After his retirement in 1995, he and Nadine enjoyed many years together.  They traveled the United States as well as England, Australia, and a cruise to the Baltic countries.  They shared a great love of southwest design and created a showplace in Parrish, Florida.  Their home, planned and constructed by Don (with a little help from his friends and family) is a southwest design, filled with memorabilia and artifacts from New Mexico, Arizona, and Colorado,

The family would like to thank the great outpouring of support they received through Don's  illness and passing. A Celebration of Life will take place at Groover Funeral Home at Mansion Memorial Park in Ellenton, Florida at a later date. 

In lieu of flowers, please send donations to Tidewell Hospice, 5955 Rand Blvd., Sarasota, FL 34238 (941-552-7546).

https://tidewellfoundation.org/giving-opportunities/memorial-tribute-gifts/

Saying Goodbye to 2020

Saying good-bye to 2020 seems like an easy thing to do.  So much has been lost.  But as I pause to reflect there has also been many gifts.

While I have missed my family of children and grandchildren to the point of physical pain, I have also learned how deeply important each of them is to me.  They are my life.  I look forward to the day when not only we can be together again - something I took for granted - but for the day that I will live in their midst again.  No one can say what that will look like today but I know that it will happen again.  A year ago, I might have thought that I would stay in Florida until my kids had to move me out but now my heart begs to be with them again in the everyday of life.  I miss being a part of the ordinary - the walks to schools, the "let's get coffee,"  the stop by to visit that is simply impossible now.  I miss being with, being together, being part of a bigger thing. 

The gift of being with my parents in 2020 has been like nothing I could have imagined.  I learned to protect myself for their sake.  I gave up what I knew to be my life in order to be assured that I had kept them safe from the Corona virus.  The sacrifice of me as their child has not been unlike the sacrifices I made for my own children.  The child has now become the caretaker. 

I have missed church and being in community with other believers.  I joined the church in January and the last service I attended was in March.  Here it is 9 months later.  Church has become a spectator sport on a video screen.  This is a dichotomy for me because I have certainly learned to lived without it and go on.  There are so many options on-line that have kept my spiritual live growing deeper and deeper.  I'm not sure what this means going forward.  Maybe it's not church but the gathering.

Gathering has been the word for this year.  It is what I have missed the most.  Gathering for holidays and celebrations, gathering for meetings, gathering for church.  The inability to come together has been the missing piece, the piece I don't want to go on without.  I am not a people person but I am a person person.  I want to be together with my someone, look him/her in the eye and talk and share.  It is what grounds me, what makes me remember the important stuff, the stuff that I am about.

So as I look toward 2021, I look forward to being together again.  Eye contact.  Touching.  Holding.  Hugging.  I will be patient.  I will wait.  And when it is safe, I will drive, I will fly, I will gather.  

Memories of Thanksgiving: A Note to My Children

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday and by always, I mean my entire lifetime. I don’t remember a year when I didn’t look forward to the fourth Thursday of November. Now as I look back through the Thanksgivings of my life, they unroll like a beautiful scroll before me. Beginning in Iowa, the child that was me is wide eyed and mesmerized by the sights and smells of my Grandma’s little kitchen. I am surrounded by the embodiment of love and family and all that is good. Growing up, Thanksgiving took on more and more importance; I looked forward to it more than Christmas or my birthday. It was a holiday that filled all of my senses and never ever disappointed me. Once I was married, I kept trying to recreate that bigger than life event for the two of you but never quite fulfilled the goal.  But today, as I look back, and think about the happiness that surrounds this day, the vision that lingers for me is in my kitchen on College Ave. the year I insisted that we were not going to the Ryans; we would stay home for Thanksgiving.  This was a meal that I couldn’t wait to cook for my family.  It was two days of preparations - tart cranberry sauce the way Dave like it, Grandma’s sage stuffing, and pumpkin pie on Wednesday and all the rest on Thursday morning - turkey in the oven by 6 AM, vegetable sides - yams, green beans, and mashed potatoes - finishing up with gravy in that giant black polkadot roasting pan.  But this memory is not so much about the food as it is what’s going on in the background.  My two kids running around the house playing and laughing and reminding me of what is important.  It is deep abiding love.  It is family.  It is being together.  

Through the years, Thanksgiving has become less about the food and more about the thanks.  I have come to understand and appreciate the importance of taking a day for a  long pause to reflect on all that has been given and to be deeply grateful.  Today as I take that pause for gratitude, there is no doubt that my greatest gift has been the two of you.  Because of you, I have learned a love that leaves one searching and lacking the words to say all that is in your heart.  Because of you I understand the true meaning of giving and receiving love.  Because of you I know the value of time well spent in the presence of those we cherish.  This, above all, is something that I will never take for granted.  This year, my heart aches to touch and hold and hug you; those long and deep hugs that go on and on because you just can’t let go. In your place, I can only replay the Thanksgivings that we  have shared together through the years; the Thanksgivings with Grandma and Grandpa Ryan, the Thanksgivings that became Maria’s birthday parties, and even the Thanksgiving that we shared on the floor of the duplex on Highland Ave with food from The Good Earth. You see, no matter where we have been, it’s always been about the gathering, the bringing together of people who love each other. And there is no one I love and cherish more than the two of you.  

Love,

Mom

Giving Thanks

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday and by always, I mean my entire lifetime.  I don’t remember a year when I didn’t look forward to the fourth Thursday of November.  To me, it was what it meant to be an Allen, a Christian, a good person.  It was one day set aside to say thank you, to pause and just recognize all that we have been given.  This year, as I take that pause, my mind is on you, my parents, and this gift that we have been given, this gift of being together.

We have been given the gift of time.  Time to be able to enjoy one another’s company; time to get to know each other, once and for all; time to laugh and cry together.

We have been given the gift of support.  You have helped me financially, physically, and academically.  With your assistance I have bought 2 houses, I have removed citrus trees, and built a sunset patio.  There isn’t a time when I see you that I don’t learn something new.  It might be a new recipe, a Florida plant, or the many purposes of a good set of pliers.  

We have been given the gift of understanding.  Conversations around the table have led me to a deeper level of comprehending your life together - your life as a young couple, as parents, and through the years to your 71st year as husband and wife.    Through many of these conversations I have learned that our views of the world are not that different.  We all believe in the importance of doing what’s right, working hard, and helping one another.

Each of these gift is priceless.  But the greatest gift of this year, greater than all of these, has been the opportunity of giving back.  An adult child’s greatest reward is being given the opportunity to help his or her parents.  And that is exactly where I have found myself this year.  The gift of life that you gave to me 66 years ago, complete with food, diapers, loving lectures, and wings to fly cannot be repaid.  But a few months ago, I was presented with the chance to put a couple dings in that debt.  There are no words that can explain how honored I have been to give back to you all that was freely given to me.  It may have been driving to Publix or the doctor, pulling weeds or mulching, making the bed or helping with the dishes; but it all mattered.  It was all the embodiment of love, it was and is saying thank you Mom and Dad; thank you for all that you gave to me.  May these few gifts of repayment say to you everything my words cannot.  Thank you.  I love you.  

My Dad

Don Allen was my dad.  No one could look at the two of us together and not see the

resemblance.  I have his nose and probably his stubborn streak as well.  But he was

also one of my most important mentors. I looked up to him from my earliest days

and never stopped.  Now, as I remember his life, I am deeply aware of the indelible

gifts that he has left with me.  

First and above all else, he taught me to take pride in everything you do.  I tried

hard to make him proud.  Anyone who knew him, knows what a difficult goal that was. 

He pushed me to be the best I could be in all aspects of my life and was never afraid

to let me know when I had missed the mark.  So as the third child when my turn came

to leave the nest, I knew that somehow I had to get my college degree.  There would be

no plausible explanation for failing.  HIs happiness at my graduation made it worth all of

the work and time. He was never one for many words of pride in his children but as he got older, they came more freely. So on round two, when I returned to school to get my master’s degree, he was once again sitting in the audience as my biggest cheerleader.

One of the simplest things he taught me was, be responsible.  When you got in trouble with Dad, it was never a good idea to try to cover it up or lie about it.  If he caught you in a lie, the punishment just went from 0 to 60.  This I know from years of experience.  He taught me that an Allen’s word was your bond so if you said something, you had better be ready to stand behind it.  It was a lesson that has guided my life in innumerable ways. 

Dad also left me with the gift or curse of perfectionism and an eye for symmetry.  No one ever enjoyed being a part of any of his projects that involved placement or centering.  He may need a measuring tape and level but you can be darn sure that when he was done, it would be perfectly positioned.  He had the incredible knack of being able to look at a task and know immediately how to go about completing it.  Had he been born at another time, he would surely have been an engineer.  
Patience however, was not his forte, so when working as his assistant you had to pick up on things quickly.  His expectations were high so I learned fast that I had better figure out how to anticipate what was coming next.  If not, you can be sure that his volume would be going up and the criticism would be harsh.  One of my favorite memories of my dad was when we had planned on putting in a deck at my house and I finally had the courage to tell him that I could only help him if he promised not to call me names. He agreed to my conditions and remained good to his word.

   
My dad also had many strengths of which I never acquired.  He had a great memory and as a result was a good storyteller.  Even if you had just met him, he had a story to tell you.  Work was his purpose in life.  He never enjoyed puzzles or games but if something needed to get done, he was your guy.  His goals were always clear.  If he set out to do something, you can be sure that it was going to happen one way or the other.  There was no obstacle big enough to keep him from achieving it.  He lived life on his own terms.  As a contractor in Iowa, he worked through frigid cold winters and horribly hot summers.  So the move to Florida in 1973 made it possible to work and earn a living in much more pleasant conditions.  With the help of a few contacts and simply his inner drive to succeed, he was able to make the transition from owning a construction company with his brother to a much bigger field of play.  

I was the lucky kid who got to share time with him at the end of his life journey. 

In this past year, I have witnessed so much.  I have seen the deep love he had

for my mom, the woman who for 70 plus years he called his girlfriend.  I have

seen how a man of strength comes to terms with his own humanity as gracefully

as possible. I have also seen the spiritual side of my father take precedence over

anything here on earth.  We have had some great conversations about some very

deep subjects and I will be forever grateful for our time together.  As his child, I never

stopped learning from him and I will miss him terribly.  I will miss his stories, his

loving arms, his strong opinions about politics, and his advice for my DIY projects.  

Thanks, Dad.  Your work is done here.  Now it’s time to rest.  I love you.