A son named John

In November of 2008 I made my Cursillo journey. After a year of fumbling toward establishing a new relationship with God after beginning recovery from years of best lost in the fog of alcoholism, the Cursillo provided me with an opportunity to begin again. In the days that followed the Cursillo I realized the small voice that whispered things that echoed in my heart was the voice of God calling me back to His presence, reminding me of His love for me.

As the days turned into weeks, I felt the intensity of relationship beginning to slip and I began to fear that the changes I had only recently embraced would fade away and I would return to my former self and again be lost in world created by my will that I did not want to acknowledge.

I attended mass with my wife on the second Sunday of Advent. Kneeling down after entering the pew at the Cathedral for mass, I began to pray,
“Dear God, please help me find a way to reconnect with you. I feel that I have lost some of the fire I had coming out of the Cursillo and I want to rekindle the fire. Thank you for keeping me sober yesterday and help me to stay sober for today. Please help my brothers and sisters who suffer from addiction find that it is Your Will that they walk down the road of recovery. Amen” My heart began to pound so loudly I was certain that those around me could hear it as clearly as the bells of the Cathedral. I was unable to focus what else to say so I just spent a few more minutes trying to quiet my heart and focus my thoughts.

I sat back on the pew and looked up at stained glass windows and watched as they were lit up or shadowed as fast moving clouds passed by the sun. The day was December 7, Pearl Harbor day, a day with significance to all Americans and many more people around the world. It is day that invokes memories of sadness and changed destinies. For me, December 7, Pearl Harbor Day is also a day of ultimate significance I was born 10 years after the war. The memories of events that occurred on December 7 have nothing to do war and are intensely personal to me, and are shared only my wife. Or so I thought.

The memories of the December 7 that have shadowed my life began when I was sitting in my recliner sipping an after work cocktail of whiskey on the rocks waiting for my pregnant wife to come home from a routine visit to her doctor. When she came through the door it became instantly, sickeningly clear disaster had struck. The baby, our first, was gone from us before we both could know him. We had tried so long and so hard to conceive that hopes were ebbing away when we suddenly found she become pregnant. The moment the presence of a new life growing within her was the greatest moment of joy I had experienced up that point in my life. When the time was right, I had felt the baby quicken in the womb but then as the days progressed along, the novelty of feeling his movement passed. I took for granted that there would be no end to the days in this world when I could engage him in some way. Had it been one day, two days, or a week? I could not remember then nor can I remember now. I thought that because God knew all that we had to endure to get the spark of life started would mean that the spark would ignite and burn forever. Surely this baby was the answer to our prayers, a real manifestation of God’s will for us.

Before the evening of that December 7 passed, I took poured another drink and probably poured even more after that. Those drinks may have been the first drinks taken not for enjoyment or fun but to numb scorched emotions. I don’t know that I drank much over the next days as we went through the horror of having to wait out the delivery of a dead baby but instead of engaging with God and my wife to come to understanding of the depth of grief and the beauty of healing, I pushed the hurt deep inside and tried to wall it off.

When the time came for the baby to be delivered, I was not in the room but came back shortly afterwards. I took the still, dark, little form, wrapped in a receiving blanket into my arms. Trying to find some solace in a moment that I did not think could be endured, I thought of John the Baptist. I said, “As your father, I name you John in honor of John the Baptist. He came to prepare the way for another.” I wet my thumb in the tears of both his mother and myself and said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

In time, we gave his body over to the staff of the hospital and left that dark place to walk into a future we could not predict. There is no answer to the question why babies die even if there is answer as to what happened to them. For us, for John, there was never an answer as to what happened that could be communicated to me within the realm of human understanding.

Our time is visible to us and we can see each day pass into the next but suddenly the passage of time from that day so many years ago until that day in the cathedral collapsed into one single image that was no longer colored by sadness but was filled of chaotic impressions of welcoming hope.

Still struggling to focus my thoughts, I opened the liturgy guide and found that the gospel was about John the Baptist. I was immediately transported back to that moment so many years ago when we held, loved and blessed a child lost to us before he could know life. I did the math in my head and realized that 25 years had passed from the day my wife came into the house with news that changed us forever.

I asked to be reconnected and He chose to take me back to the day when I took the burden of grief into myself instead of asking Him to share it with me. I came to know, to really understand that it was not his will that my son die in the womb but it was His will that I share my loss with him that he might console me, console us and help us find healing.

Unbidden and unexpected, the tears began to flow. To be able to give oneself over the grief and tears is the gift I could accept only now after years of literally drowning sorrows. I listened to the story of the man who promised a fine chalice to the Lord if he could be blessed with a child but later changed his mind and tried to pass off a simple chalice, a gift that was rejected. When the son and the chalice were later lost at sea, the man prayed at the church of St. Nicholas. The chalice and the son were restored to him. Even though I loved to hear of the miracle delivered by St. Nicholas, I came to consider that reality that for me, for us, there was no miracle of restored life. In the emptiness of the moment, I began to sense another spirit around me, one that filled up the church. I came to recognize the spirit and I gave myself over to it. It was my son John. There were no words, no sounds, only a profound understanding that even if there was never to be a breath of life in this world there was soul that lives forever in fullness in God’s presence.

I wanted to live in that moment forever, to feel his presence forever but as the Mass ended, I felt the presence fade away. While the tears and the sadness still well up and haunt me, there is also a deeper feeling of peace.

Recently my cousin brought me a copy of a letter I wrote to my family after the death of my grandfather. It became the eulogy at his funeral. As I read through the letter again I was struck by the sincerity of what I said, I truly believed that the people in our life that we lose to death are not truly lost but they are waiting for us to join him in the next life, a life that has no end. I wondered how it came to be that I lost my faith. I still said the words I always had. I never let on to the world that where there was once was light and hope, darkness and pessimism came to reign. The descent was steady and relentless until I found a way to claim a daily reprieve based upon my spiritual condition from the insanity of disowned feelings, anger and resentment.
The spirit that filled the Cathedral was immense, deep, abiding and felt as real as the stones that walls are built from. I could only sense what little we have from the perspective of our limited understanding. The Spirit reached inside me and touched my soul and it has been marked with the gift of healing.

I prayed to be reconnected to God. It was his will that we reconnect through the soul of my son John. I have given the burden of grief over to him and asked him to take it from me. It is burden I can no longer carry. I expect that sadness and longing will continue. That we care is the gift given to humans. To be able to mourn our losses is part of our condition. To know, to really know that my son, my daughter and all who have departed from me will be restored to me is my salvation.

The challenge that has been given to me is to use this knowledge to reconnect with my living sons, my wife and family and to open my heart to let them in completely.

“We give thanks to the Lord. It is right to give Him thanks and praise.”

Peace be with you.

St. Cyrl, in his commentary on the Gospel of John, writes:

"After Christ had completed his mission on earth, it still remained necessary for us to become sharers in the divine nature of the Word. We had to give up our own life and be so transformed that we would begin to live an entirely new kind of life that would be pleasing to God."

Those words leap forward through the tunnel of time to speak things I need to hear, things that cause me to pause and reflect on where I am in life's journey and where I want to be today and tomorrow.
What does he mean by to give our own life? The intent is clear. We are top acting like we are navigators of our ships of life. Our job is to sail the boat straight and true. His is to set our course and guide our way through the shoals to the distant promised shores.

So what does this transformation look like? In my own life, I have seen a young woman widowed with two children turn toward God with an open heart and then to be able build a new life. She became empowered to raise up both children through daily sacrifice and a total gift of herself. Her devotion ensure we would have everything we needed both in terms of worldly possessions but also in abiding love that continues to this day. I have seen a man who had become an alcoholic finally give up the struggle to beat the unbeatable only to have compulsion to drink relieved on the very day he invited God back into his life and began to empty out those things that left no room in him for the Holy Spirit to enter and bring God’s loving face back into his sight. I have seen in the strength of an exhausted mother who could call upon the strength of the Holy Spirit through a simple three word prayer, “God, help me,” to be able get of bed yet one more to time pace the floor speaking in the loving speech of comfort as if her capacity were unlimited.

I have not yet been transformed because that would imply that the work of the Holy Spirit has been completed. It has not. I am being transformed and I am living a new life where forgiveness and reconciliation lie before me and a new way of living in which I will be granted the wisdom to recognize God’s will for me. It is in the process of transforming that I will find joy and peace.

We are not special.

Sometimes we alcoholics think we have the market on human misery cornered, that somehow when it comes to suffering we suffer more than the normal people. We are wrong. To some degree all humans are guilty of tending toward selfishness and self centeredness rather than being concern with the well being of others. We all tend to be afraid or angry when we worry that something we have is going to be taken from us or we are going to be deprived of something we desire. At any moment, anyone of us could devour a carton of ice cream or buy more pairs of shoes than we can wear in a month. Or we could develop obsessions over things as crazy as tea cozies or McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. I am reminded of the commonalities we share frequently by my wife when I try to separate myself from other humans by proclaiming that I am somehow entitled to be treated differently just because I am an alcoholic. I also see it all around me in whenever I listen to stories of people who struggle to live a good live when it is so easy to fall away. The stories of hurt and pain are told by alcoholics and non-alcoholics alike.

I recently read an absolutely beautiful story that began with harms done to each other by members of family and ending with sweet and moving description of lives redeemed when a woman reconciled with her former mother in law. The details of the story are not important except point out what was not in the story. There was no mention of alcoholism, of AA, sponsors or doing step work. Instead there was only a full description of truth the whenever relationships remain broken, both parties will continue to suffer until reconciliation occurs and the healing grace of God can enter into damaged hearts and make lives new again. If you want to read the story, pick up a copy of the book “Chicken Soup for the Soul” and read it again for that is where the story originated. We hear these stories day after day in virtually every AA meeting that takes place in every corner of the world but the point is that we also find the examples of importance of making amends everywhere. The sad truth is that we are all damaged in some way and to some degree because we had to make the transition away from being helpless infants for whom happiness is defined as the soft touch of a mother, a full belly and the ability to asleep without worrying about how the US soccer team will fare in the match against England. Instead we have to grow up and learn to redefine happiness in order to understand that which we seek that we might know it if we should find it.

What separates us is what is at stake for us. If the lady in the story had not found a way to make amends and reconcile with her mother in law, she would have likely continued to be miserable but she probably not die from the hurt. For alcoholics, that unrepaired relationship would probably result in us turning to drink and for us, to drink is to die. I have come to believe if we simply took the word alcohol out of first step that virtually everyone could benefit from working a 12 step program. Somewhere along the line we all have to learn the happiness is not something that we can find, it is not gift that can be given to us by others. No one can take it away from us. Here is the truth I have finally come to understand: we become happy by simply deciding to live our lives in accordance with God’s will for us.

There are many characteristics that separate alcoholics from non-alcoholics but there is one reality that we hold in common: God loves each and every one of us without limit and He wants us to find happiness in embracing that love. At the end of the day, God’s love for us is the only fact that matters for any of us. It is his love for us that caused Him to send forth the holy spirit to give us the grace and strength we need love, forgive, grow and seek to be one with Him but not only in this world and in the next. So it turns out that we are special after all. We are not, however, unique. God’s abiding love is universal.

Finding Dawn

St. Gregory wrote that dawn is place not a time; it is neither fully night nor fully day. Dawn is the place where we live in this world when we seek to live in the light of God’s love. When we turn toward God, the darkness of night is behind us. Dawn is not just a place; it is a journey from the darkness in into the light. How wonderful it would be if our journey from night was without obstacles, that we would never hit bumps or holes that frustrate our progress forward. We would love to avoid slippery slopes that we can’t climb and leave us angry and exhausted. We do hit bumps. We do struggle to forgive others for slights real or imagined. We lose sight of God’s expectation that measure of self worth is not based i[pm how we feel about ourselves but about we make others feel about themselves. Sometimes the best we can do is to keep our back to the darkness and face the light until we find strength and courage to rise up and move forward again. Other times the light reflected off us from the coming day will guide others towards God’s presence. I find immense comfort in knowing that we are all in place where the promised day is at hand and that together we can all share the beautiful colors that fill the skies in this place of dawn.

Today I had the good fortune to take Holy Communion to group of lovely people each of whom reminded me of my grandparents, not perhaps in how they looked, or talked or acted but certainly in a more important way, they each radiated love and warmth beyond what I have felt for many years. These beautiful people are much further into the light of day then I am at this stage of my journey. One or two of them are clearly nearing the end of their life on earth but I could detect the anger or sadness that one might expect to encounter as life on earth draws to a close. Instead I felt only gratitude, appreciation and a practiced faith that comes from years of devotion to the Lord.

This time I was there only to watch and to learn. Georgianne, the leader of the service, is also a resident there. She confidently and brightly read the prayers and intercessions with grace and dignity. In a flash of foresight, I knew the moment we joined in prayer that I am finally beginning to discern God’s will for me. When the service ended, I went up to each person and shared the peace of the Lord with them and from each of them came an offer thanks that was both intensely authentic but also incredibly understated. I could barely speak with being overcome with emotion. I had previously felt that this kind of ministry was my calling. I now know it. What remains now is for me to not get ahead of myself; I must continue to rely on the spiritual and practical guidance of Monsignor O’Neill and others. I have much to learn and I need to grow much more in spiritual strength and insight before I can fully commit to lay ministry in service of our Holy Church and the Lord. I have, however, seen my future and I welcome it.

Later on, after the rush of emotion faded, I felt frightened, uncertain and even somewhat of a fraud. I am not far enough along on my journey through the place called dawn to feel absolutely certain I am yet worthy to take on the role of lay ministry. Behind and beyond all that I was feeling was an element of surprise. The direction my life is taking is so different than what I expected even 2 years ago that I can scarcely believe what is happening. The reality of the calling that remains in my mind when I am at rest is settling in hard against the way I used to be and I am not fully at peace with the changes. I worry that I do not yet have the solid base I need to be a source of help for others. The truth is, however, that I know that I am where I am supposed to be, surrounded by the people who are meant to be with me and share my journey and, more importantly, for me to join in their journey.

The days when I sat in the darkness and cursed the light are fading into the distance of the place we call the past. Today I chose to serve the Lord and to live in His dawn of many colors as we join hands in prayer and await the coming of His new day.

Dear Lord, thy will, not mine, be done.

Peace be with you.

A Reflection on St. Cyril's homily on the Holy Spirit

For the third time in the past couple of weeks, St. Cyril is the author of the second reading in the Lectio. His words have leaped forward through the tunnel of time to speak directly me things I have needed to hear these past days.

The most recent inspiration comes from his commentary on the Gospel of John.

St. Cyril writes:

"After Christ had completed his mission on earth, it still remained necessary for us to become sharers in the divine nature of the Word. We had to give up our own life and be so transformed that we would begin to live an entirely new kind of life that would be pleasing to God."
What does he mean by to give our own life? The intent is clear. We stop acting like we are navigators of our ships of life. Our commission is to sail the boat straight and well trimmed. His role is to set our course and guide us through the shoals to the distant promised shores on the other side of eternity.

So what does this transformation look like? In my life, I have seen a young woman widowed with two children turn toward God with an open heart and then be able build a new life. She raised both children by enduring daily sacrifice and making a total gift of herself that we would have everything we needed both in terms of worldly possessions but also in saintly love that continues to this day for both her children.

I have seen a man who had become an alcoholic finally give up the struggle to control everything only to find himself in an unmanageable way of life have the compulsion to drink relieved on the very day he invited God back into his life.

I have seen transformation come in the strength of an exhausted mother who called upon the strength of the Holy Spirit through a simple three word prayer, “God, help me,” and was then able get of out bed again and again to pace the floor with an inconsolable infant, singing in a mother's tongue a loving song of comfort.

I have not yet been transformed because that would imply that the work of the Holy Spirit has been completed. It has not. I am being transformed and I am living a new life where forgiveness and reconciliation lie before me and a new way of living in which I will be granted the wisdom to recognize God’s will for me.

Peace be with you.

Pursuing Grace

I truly desire the peace and happiness that comes from living in accordance with His will. I crave the healing that will come as I exchange the nightmares and ghosts of a past life poorly lived with a new hope for a happy life filled with His Grace.

St. Augustine wrote in his Confessions

“In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you; now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”

Like Augustine I became lost in created things driven by desire to fill needs I could not articulate because I did not know the words to use to describe them. There is nothing innately evil or wrong with the things I pursued because they were created by God. What is wrong is that I pursued them for reasons of self gratification that separated me from the Truth who could sustain me. Finally God has gotten through to me and I am beginning to listen but I still hold something back, I cannot completely believe that become whole I must do what is asked of me; make my heart ready and to then let go those things that deafen and blind me.

St. Augustine continues:

“When once I shall be united to you with my whole being, I shall at last be free of sorrow and toil. Then my life will be alive, filled entirely with you. When you fill someone, you relieve him of his burden, but because I am not yet filled with you, I am a burden to myself. My joy when I should be weeping struggles with my sorrows when I should be rejoicing. I know not where victory lies.”

His words leap through 1600 years of human history to ring in my ears as clearly as if the words were written today. St. Augustine struggled with finding his true nature after a life spent outside the light of understanding God and His plans for him. I share his struggle. We all share his struggle but for those of us who have invested everything in a belief only in ourselves have much work to do before we find the victory Augustine found.

Today there is no great insight in how to achieve that victory, no wise words on how to find hope, as did Augustine, in God’s great mercy. The words, "I ain't much but I am all I have got" echo in my consiousness but leave me with a bitter feeling. I no long desire what I have got. I am compelled to end today with words from Augustine that I offer up to the Lord as prayer for myself:

“I make no effort to conceal my wounds. You are my physician, I your patient. You are merciful; I stand in need of mercy.”

Peace be you.

A Prayer For My Wife

Last year my wife made a Cursillo. As she prepared to go, I wrote my wishes for what she would gain from the experience in a letter she opened after I left her there.

I recently re-read the letter and it strikes me that the letter could be turned into a prayer that I want to share openly.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for bringing this warm human being into my life. She has been my spouse, my soulmate, my leader, my teacher, my healer and my best friend since we were 18 years old.

If it is your will, please grant her these things:

Her eyes will be opened to see new things

Her ears will be opened to hear new things

Her mind will be opened to learn new things

Her soul will grow in deeper kinship with You

She will read the words forged with love from many people she holds closest to her heart that will her you much she is loved, honored and cherished.

She will know that You will never stop guiding us toward Your plan for us.

You will never stop encouraging me to become the spouse she deserves

She will remember that love is constant but forgiveness must but renewed every day.

She will develop new relationships with other women that will be authentic

She will continue grow a vision of what our life together should be as our life purpose becomes clear

She will be assured that the sacrament of our marriage is the reason I want to stay sober.

She will learn that her children honor her more than she can ever comprehend

She will learn that You have sent forth the holy spirit to forge the chains that binds our family together. Not just between us, the children and us but ALL of us.

She will remember that You never stop listening but sometimes we forget to start talking back.

She will be renewed in spirit and reminded of much she is loved

God, please reward her devotion to you and her steafast to faith in You all of these years

You will be strengthen herto continue to be her joyful self despite all of the challenges being married to an alcoholic brings her.

You will be guide us to full restoration as a couple and that You will show us Your will for us

These things I ask of You for her, not for me. She is your beloved daughter who brings all of us closer to You through her example.

Thanks be to God. Alleliua.

Amen.

Peace be with you.