Choice

I Believe…

I believe that sometimes society seems to be hanging by a thread, but that’s not all I believe…

I believe that God creates similarities, differences, and various dimensions intentionally, rather than carbon copies, or only one kind or way of being.

I believe freedom resides within and is a gift from God entrusted to each, to do with as one wills—as in free will.

I believe that it’s up to each to choose for themselves that which affects, most especially, oneself.

I believe and, also trust, that God has more wisdom than all of us together, seeing things we cannot see and understanding in ways which humans simply cannot.

I believe that to love like Jesus is to love like God—with great depth and breadth, yet personal and unique onto each of us as if we were the only one.

I believe that where hearts and minds are open to the Spirit that is Holy, unity and diversity not only live, but also thrive.

I believe that true victory does not rob others from choosing for themselves, and that what some may celebrate as a “win,” God does not.

I believe the compassion and mercy of God is all encompassing, and that clearly humankind’s is often not.

Most of all, I believe that the greater glory belongs to God, all of “this” will fade away, and that ultimately, through the hearts that are willing, God’s unifying way of love, compassion, and mercy prevails.

I believe that sometimes society seems to be hanging by a thread, but maybe sometimes that’s what we need to be.

And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. – Luke 2:19

It Travels and Echoes…

Waking up to the sounds of birds singing to each other,
Calling back and forth,
Noise bouncing here and there—echoes,
Do they realize how far their voices reach?
What is their intention?
What’s that now?
What do they say?
Something familiar, something new,
They whistle in possibilities,
And the newness of the day.
What is my intention?
How does it travel?
What do I say?
Do I realize the blessing that comes with this new day?

The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy. – Psalm 126:3

The Place of Choice…

In the last chapter of the Book of Joshua (Jos 24), Joshua, who succeeded Moses, is nearing death when he gathers the tribes of Israel and speaks the words of the Lord. First, the Lord helps the people to remember the truth of their journey together and God’s presence throughout. Then, the ageless choice, just as poignant today as back in Joshua’s times and prior, is offered: “…choose today whom you will serve…” (Jos 24:15).

Oftentimes the way of society tends toward reaching heights higher than, obtaining more than, and being waited upon or served as if elevated in position. And in that striving and the push to achieve, there are all sorts of temptations moving in and out, and throughout, trying to slide into place without notice, shifting motivation away from what might truly be good. Then, there is also the voice of reason—Truth, seeking balance, calling for heart and soul to live and breathe in all that drives the choices being made, actions being taken, and the spirit in which they are carried out.

So how does one proceed with so many competing interests? More simply, slowing down with prayerful moments that lead to the choosing in each, and every, day.

This past Wednesday was the feast day of Alberto Hurtado Cruchaga, S.J. He was born in 1901 and lived in Chile, becoming a Jesuit priest who served the poor and worked for social justice until his death in 1952. The following prayer is his prayer. It seeks integrity, hope, and faith in God and reminds one of Truth—all things are possible with God.

Prayer of St. Alberto Hurtado Cruchaga, S.J.

Lord, help me to speak the truth in front of the strong
and not say lies to gain the applause of the weak.

If you give me fortune, don’t take happiness away from me.
If you give me strength, don’t take reason away from me.
If you give me success, don’t take humility away from me.
If you give me humility, don’t take dignity away from me.

Help me always see the other side of the medal.
Do not let me blame others of treason
for not thinking like me.
Teach me to love people as myself
and to judge myself as others.

Do not let me fall into pride if I triumph
nor in despair if I fail.
Rather, remind me that failure
is the experience which precedes triumph.

Teach me that forgiving is the grandest for the strong
and that revenge is the primitive sign of the weak.

If you take away my fortune, leave me with hope.
If you take away success, leave me with the strength
to triumph from the defeat.

If I fail people, give me the courage to ask pardon.
If the people fail me, give me the courage to forgive.
Lord, if I forget You, don’t forget me.

Easter Rising…

As rays of light penetrate the darkness, so to the love of each. And, through the shine and glow of the heart and soul, we know, our God is with us.

Having been at the foot of the cross, witnessing the crucifixion of Jesus, it seems likely that Mary Magdalene would have been overcome with emotion, confusion, and a sense of loss, to say the least. The circumstances in which she found herself had to be unexpected and vastly different than anything she could have imagined.

Yet, Mary of Magdala, held on. She did not become motionless or stuck in despair. Despite however she may have felt after the death of Jesus, and the magnitude of those feelings, she got up and went to the tomb in the days that followed.

Sometimes, like Mary of Magdala, we have to lift ourselves up, and do something. We have to listen to the Voice within, and “go out.”

Sometimes, we have to put ourselves out there, bearing our souls to each other, listening and sharing, trying something new or in a different way… connecting in ways that show we care, at whatever distance we may be.

Oftentimes, we must overcome doubt and fear, in order to experience the joy of being risen.

Oftentimes, when we lift ourselves, we lift others too.

On this Easter, and always, may the love of God, the sacrifice of Jesus, and the example of many, inspire all toward life everlasting.

Easter2020

On the first day of the week,
Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning,
while it was still dark,
and saw the stone removed from the tomb.
So she ran and went to Simon Peter
and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them,
“They have taken the Lord from the tomb,
and we don’t know where they put him.”
So Peter and the other disciple went out and came to the tomb.
They both ran, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter
and arrived at the tomb first;
he bent down and saw the burial cloths there, but did not go in.
When Simon Peter arrived after him,
he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there,
and the cloth that had covered his head,
not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place.
Then the other disciple also went in,
the one who had arrived at the tomb first,
and he saw and believed.
For they did not yet understand the Scripture
that he had to rise from the dead. – John 20:1-9

A Picture’s Worth…

A truck pulled into the parking lot of the conservation area and stopped, blocking the entrance. Then a man hopped out and went over to the middle of the road. He proceeded to walk slowly back in the direction of the parking area, escorting something toward the water. I could not see what it was, but thought it might be some sort of animal. Once several steps into the grass, the man returned to his truck and was on his way, presumably off to where he had originally been going.

As I walked across the gravel to the side where the animal was, while the man was gone, his awareness and show of care and concern stayed with me. Upon arriving, a few steps onto the grass, I could see a painted turtle. It was continuing to slowly make its way toward the water. It was quite small. In fact, it could not have been more than a few inches across its shell, yet the man traveling in his truck, sitting high up, not only spotted the turtle down on the road, but also stopped to ensure its safe passage to the other side. Remarkable, both to do, and to see. A privilege to partake in, whether as a participant or as a witness.

There are many dimensions and circumstances in life over which choice may be limited or perhaps, does not exist. However, there is always the freedom to use—to see and/or to act from—one’s heart.

I bless the Lord who counsels me;
even in the night my heart exhorts me.
I set the Lord ever before me;
With the Lord at my right hand I shall not be disturbed. – Psalm 16:7-8

Turtle

The Choice Is Ours…

ChoiceIsOurs

From the snow covered branches to the rumble of snowplows, the hum of snow blowers and the sound of shovels against the ground. From the people driving or operating machines or shoveling to those simply playing in the winter wonderland. From those readying a place for loved ones returning from outdoors to those who are simply gazing in awe of the beauty that abounds…and, to all those in between, Alleluia!

Be it rain or snow or a storm of another kind, there is something so pure…so quiet…after a storm. There is something so precious in the time that follows the pouring down…and sometimes out and all around. Looking out the window after a recent snowstorm, I am struck by the way that everything is right in front of us, and the choice is ours.

While the storm may have caused almost all activity to come to a halt, it also washes clean (or white) for at least a little while. Then, it is time to clean up. Moved to work together, we help each other to restore the roads and the walkways so that once again they are open and safe for travel to and from.

Again, it seems that everything is right in front of us and the choice is ours.

A Boiled Seed Cannot Sprout – Author Unknown

An aging king woke up one day acutely aware of his own mortality.  He had no son, and his was a culture where only a male heir could take his place.

He decided that he would adopt a son who then could take his place, but he insisted that such an adopted son must be extraordinary in every sense of the word.  He considered each of his advisors and relatives in turn, but found them wanting.

So he launched a competition in his kingdom, open to all boys, no matter what their background. Ten boys made it to the very top. There was little to separate these boys in terms of intelligence and physical attributes and capabilities.

The king said to them, ‘I have one last test and whoever comes top will become my adopted son and heir to my throne.’ Then he said, ‘This kingdom depends solely on agriculture, so the king must know how to cultivate plants.  Here are seven seeds of grain for each of you. Take them home.  Plant and nurture them for six weeks. At the end of six weeks, we shall see who has done the best job of cultivating the grain.  That person will be my son and my heir. ‘

The boys took their seeds and hurried home.  Each got a pot, prepared soil, and sowed his seeds. There was much excitement in the kingdom as the people waited to see who was destined to be their next king.

In one home, the boy and his parents were almost heartbroken when the days stretched into weeks and the seeds failed to sprout. The boy did not know what had gone wrong. He had selected the soil carefully, he had applied the right quantity and type of fertilizer, he had been very dutiful in watering it at the right intervals, he had even prayed over it day and night and yet his seeds had turned out to be unproductive.

Some of his friends advised him to go and buy seed from the market and plant that. ‘After all,’ they said, ‘how can anyone tell seeds of grain one from another?’

But his parents who had always taught him the value of integrity reminded him that if the king wanted them to plant just any grain, he would have asked them to go for their own seed. ‘If you take anything different from what the king gave you that would be dishonest. Maybe we are not destined for the throne.  If so, let it be, but don’t be found to have deceived the king,’ they told him.

The appointed day came and the boys returned to the palace each of them proudly exhibiting a pot of healthy seedlings. It was obvious that the other nine boys had had great success with their seeds. The king began making his way down the line of eager boys and asked each of them, ‘Is this what came out of the seeds I gave you?’ And each boy responded, ‘Yes, your majesty.’ And the king would nod and move down the line.

The king finally got to the last boy in the line-up. The boy was shaking. He feared that the king might have him thrown into prison for wasting his seeds. ‘What did you do with the seeds I gave you?’ the king asked.

‘I planted them and cared for them diligently, Your Majesty, but alas they failed to sprout,’ the boy said.  He hung his head in shame, and the crowd jeered.

But the king raised his hands and signaled for silence. Then he said, ‘My people behold your next king.’

The people were confused. ‘Why that one?’ many asked.’ How can he be the right choice?’

The king took his place on his throne with the boy by his side and said, ‘I gave these boys boiled seeds. This test was not for cultivating grain.  It was a test of character; a test of integrity. It was the ultimate test.  If a king must have one quality, it must be that he should be above dishonesty. Only this boy passed the test. A boiled seed cannot sprout.’