Monday Morning Meditation: God's Protection (repeat #7)

In spite of the flu, I have managed to crawl through the rest of Numbers this week. However, my brain and fingers are not yet up to a new post, so I am re-posting the most popular of the MMMs. To make it easier, rather than sending you to the original link (MMM#7), I am re-printing it in full right here.

Today I got stopped very early in Exodus: Chapter 2, to be specific. I was captivated by the story of Moses -- not of the man, but of the baby.

Reading: Exodus 2:1-10.

Meditation: What struck me about the little baby in the bulrushes was just how vulnerable he was and how perfectly God arranged everything for his protection and also for his mother's psychological well-being. Anything could have happened to baby Moses, and by the law of the Pharaoh, he should have been killed. However, God led Pharaoh's daughter to have compassion on him and then guided the handmaiden to Moses's own mother for breastfeeding him. The relief his mother must have felt in all of this is something with which any mother can empathize.

Moses and his mother owed a great debt of gratitude to God for His protection. True, it turned out later that God had an immense plan for using Moses to deliver His people, the Hebrews, from slavery. Nonetheless, one must say "thank you" with great awe when God provides this kind of protection. I know because my family and I have been protected by God upon occasion after occasion. I will provide just a few examples, but they represent only a small fraction of the times that God has come to our rescue.

In addition to the string of muggings where I did not get hurt and lost very little (not that I have much to lose), God clearly has taken care of me in my travels. One interesting situation comes immediately to mind: a trip to Campinas, Brazil. I sat in seat B on the plane, and the guy in seat A, Eddie, was surprisingly from Campinas. We got to know each other, and, giving me his home phone number, he invited me to visit if I could find time in my schedule while there. At the baggage claim in Sao Paolo, we shook hands and parted. I trotted out to the curb to find the US Embassy driver who was supposed to take me to Campinas. He was not there. I called the embassy, but it being the weekend, no one had any idea as to who should have been there. Since neither the staff duty officer nor I had the home phone number for my contact at the embassy for the project I was to do in Campinas, I asked some of the locals how to get to Campinas and took the bus that they told me about. Arriving in Campinas, I called Eddie. What else? I had no idea what hotel I was supposed to be at. Eddie rescued me from the bus station, took me home where his wife gave me a wonderful dinner and his young daughter drew me a wonderful picture that I still have, and then looked up in the local phone book the telephone number of the institution where I was to be working. When we called the institution, there was an emergency phone number given on a recording, and from that we were able to contact the director, who did know what hotel I was supposed to be at and efficiently arranged everything for the night and for my arrival at the institution in the morning.

Another time, Lizzie, who was eleven at the time, and I were walking home from the metro station in a suburb of Arlington, Virginia one Saturday morning, when we glimpsed three men, probably in their early twenties, walking behind us, clearly stoned, and clearly targeting us. As they walked, they chanted, "You're going to die." They came closer and closer. Except for them, we were alone on the street and, being new in town, knew no one. As they came within touching distance, I turned into the nearest house, figuring anyone would help us in this case. As it turned out, no one was home, and the three men were lounging against a tree outside the yard, observing us.

"Oh, Lizzie, he told us he would be in the basement; we need the other door," I said just loudly enough to be heard by the young men, and we calmly walked around to the back of the house. Once out of sight, I whispered urgently to Lizzie, "Run!" And we ran all the way home through the back alleys.

The young men did not follow because they did not see us. More important, Lizzie did not panic for one minute. She just kept talking to me about mundane things as if she were not hearing the voices behind us, which I also ignored. Perhaps this was a self-rescue by a brilliant, calm, and collected mother and daughter, but I don't think so. I think Lizzie's calmness came partly from me, partly from herself, and partly from a sense of security that only God could have given her. Had she panicked, as a typical 11-year-old would have/should have, we would probably not be alive today.

Another planting of a calm and collected sense of security occurred with 7-year-old Shane, who was riding a public bus to and from his private school in what was usually in those days (25 years ago) a very safe area. One day, school got out late, and Shane missed his regular bus. As he waited for the next one, he was the only person sitting at the bus stop. A car with two men pulled up, and one of them ordered cute blue-eyed, blond Shane to get into his car.

"No, no. I was told to wait here," he said. "My parents are in the restaurant." (There was a Red Lobster restaurant behind the bus stop.)

One of the men got out of the car and headed for Shane. Shane headed for the restaurant, and seeing a couple walking out of the restaurant toward the parking lot, he hollered and waved, "Mom, Dad, I am over here!"

The man leaped into the car, and the car sped away. Shane then ran into the restaurant and asked one of the waitresses to call me. When I arrived, he was eating a free lobster dinner, surrounded by the waitress staff, who thought he was "darling" and "so cool-headed!"

Again, I could say that Shane was a very intelligent and collected child. He was. But where did that couple in the parking lot come from at just the right time? And how did a 7-year-old, even one in the fifth grade, as Shane was, feel secure enough not to panic? (Oh, and for those who would ask, I made alternative arrangements to the public bus after that for Shane even though all the other children in his class rode the bus.)

And then there was Doah, my mentally challenged youngest, who wanted to go in to work with one Saturday when I had to pull some overtime. I guess it took me too long to get ready because he managed to unlock the door, wander outside, and head down the street, the "street" being a four-lane major highway. When I found him missing, I panicked. I ran down the highway, calling him, but he was nowhere in sight. After only a few minutes, thank God (literally), someone emerged from a side street, asking if I were looking for a little blond boy. Was I?! He had been strolling right in the middle of the highway when some people leaving church had seen him and scooped him up, but they then had no way of returning him. The conversation, which was truly the best that Doah, given his level of intelligence, could manage, went like this:

Q: What's your name? A: Doah.
Q: What's your mother's name? A: Mommy.
Q: What's your father's name? A: Daddy.
Q: Where do you live? A: Home.

They were as glad to see me as I was to see them. I still shake when I think about how close I came to losing Doah, and how seemingly miraculously these people appeared, both to prevent him from being struck by a car and then again to tell me they had him.

I could give two dozen more examples. However, I will stop here with one short, final comment -- not from me but from the interim priest I wrote about yesterday, who once walked me to the door of the parish office where I was the last to depart at the conclusion of an evening meeting. He just stood in the doorway, and so I looked at him quizzically. "I will watch you until you get to your car," he said protectively.

"I hope you have extraordinary distance vision," I replied, "because I walked!"

"Then, please be very careful," he responded.

"I'm not worried," I told him. "I feel protected."

He looked at me piercingly and said in an odd, quiet voice, "I think you are."

In my mind, there is no "think" about it. I know I am. I don't know why God protects me and my family so carefully, and I don't ask. I am simply grateful that God does. I suppose these experiences, among many others, are what has led to my unflappable trust in God.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to protect everyone the way He has protected me (and many others of my acquaintance), to express my regret for taking chances that make Him have to protect me and for any times I have forgotten to say thank you (especially those times when I was still an atheist and attributed every good thing to Serendipity, not aware that the other name for Serendipity is God), to give thanks for His willingness to take care of me whether or not I have "earned" His protection, and to offer praise for the remarkable ways in which He is able to intervene and prevent bad things from happening in the first place as well as all the times that He turns bad into good.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation with this wonderful God whom I know I can trust with absolutely anything and everything, including my life -- and have.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a good week, remembering that always you are in the protection of God. Be confidently valiant for Him.

Blest Guest Wednesday #5: God Uses Us to Help Humans (Sitka)

Since early August, it has been difficult for me to post regularly although I have somehow managed not to let more than a few days go by between posts. Considering that my crazy travel schedule is definitely going to continue for a few more months, I have been able to bring a little sanity to the blogging part of my life by asking for help. Some wonderful fellow bloggers have been willing to write guest posts for me on Wednesdays, hence the name "Blest Guest Wednesday." As today's "Blest Guest," I asked Andrea Perdue, who comments on Blest Atheist and my other blogs frequently. Her dog, Sitka, a gorgeous Malamute (I could look at pictures of Sitka all day), writes a blog, called All Gods' Creatures, about being therapy dogs in Richmond, Virginia and the things that they (Sitka has a brother, Nanuq) learn. I think you will find Sitka's post here and Andrea's (Sitka's) blog interesting. Here goes:

God Uses Us To Help Humans

Hi, my name is Sitka (Alaskan Malamute). My brother, Nanuq (Samoyed) and I are therapy dogs. We visit hospitals, nursing homes, and other events and facilities. During our visits, we comfort and encourage humans who find themselves in situations of pain, loss, and discouragement. A furry hug means a lot to those who struggle in this life.

One of our favorite hospitals to visit is Central State Psychiatric Hospital, Petersburg, Virginia, U.S. We are the first therapy dogs belonging to humans in the outside world to visit this facility. A couple of doctors and staff members have used their certified therapy dogs, but we are the first from the outside. We are thankful for the opportunity to serve GOD in this facility.

CSH is full of hurting humans. Many of these individuals face challenges with the simplest task. When we enter their environment the response is beyond accurate human description. Nanuq and I bring smiles into lives otherwise plagued with grimace looks. We often provoke conversation from humans who do not speak. There are no words to describe what happens behind the locked doors of this facility.

Nanuq and I are often drawn to different individuals, as they are to us. On our last visit, one man was not sure about me. I sensed he needed to pet me, but I knew he was unsure. I stood, walked to him, and nuzzled my head gently against his leg. He began to pet me and smile. He needed to feel the unconditional love a dog can give.

On several recent visits we have drawn the voice deeply embedded inside a human out. Two different humans spoke recently as a result of our visit. Not only did they speak, but they carried on intelligent conversations. The staff often watch with amazement as Nanuq and I work. They have come to expect miracles when we visit.

Nanuq and I are thankful for the opportunity to encourage and love others during the most difficult times in their lives. We are thankful GOD has given us a valuable job to do and we are thankful our human parents are faithful to continue our training, certification, and give their time to take us to each facility and event.

Woofs and Wags,

Sitka

Monday Morning Meditation #18: Arrogance Leads to Destruction

Much like the Jews in the wilderness whose story fills the Book of Numbers, I am still wandering through this book. I found Chapter 16 fascinating because I see so much in common between the ancient Jews and my modern peers. In this chapter, 250 people, led by a man named Korah, rise up against Moses and Aaron, and, by extension, against God. Their complaint is two-fold: (1) they are every bit as holy as Moses and Aaron and should have direct access to God, and (2) Moses (and, again by extension, God) has failed to bring them to a land of milk and honey). This angers God. Moses begs God to have mercy to these men and especially not to punish all the Jews for the sins of a few. When all is over, the Jews as a whole are spared by their leaving the tents of the rebellious leaders, as God demands through Moses, but the 250 who led the rebellion perish for their arrogance.

Reading: Numbers 16

Meditation: While there were a number of emotions floating around the Israeli camps, the one that seemed to permeate the most as I read this chapter is arrogance. Arrogance is an emotion that I see a lot at work. It is the most typical downfall of the junior and senior managers who work in my directorate and the topic that I address most frequently at leadership development meetings that I lead (or that I bring in others to lead). When I arrived at the directorate as its head nearly four years ago, I introduced servant leadership as the leadership approach across divisions -- rather unhappy divisions, I would note. In the past four years, as we all have become more skilled at being servants to our employees and as our employees through our regular reverse evaluations become more skilled at pointing out where we, their managers, are failing to be good servants, the unhappiness in the various divisions has turned to deep-seated satisfaction and happiness that even visitors find palpable. Still, I have a few programs whose managers just don't get it, and their employees are the ones who most frequently take advantage of my open-door policy to complain. The core issue with these managers has little to do with doing things right. Most are very good at doing things right; on the other hand, they, at times, are not willing to do the right thing when it would mean throwing out the rule book. The core issue is their arrogance in thinking that they are "in charge" and, therefore, they determine how things work. They seek power to make themselves feel important. What they don't understand is that

- managers are never truly in charge; the employees who do the critical work are really the ones in charge;

- power held is always weak; power given away (authority granted to employees) grows exponentially in direct proportion to the amount given away;

- when, through the arrogance that emanates from some sense of our greater worth or skill, we hold all leadership decision-making unto ourselves, we deprive God of the opportunity to be the true leader in our organizations for God, as we have seen in this passage, chooses to work through humble and obedient people and, at best, lets arrogant people do themselves in; the reality is that we are not just as good as God at leadership, and when we turn leadership over to God and do it His way, incredibly marvelous things happen, like the development of whole divisions that love each other and love coming to work and even, upon some occasions, real miracles. (I would note here that leadership and relationships in our families and communities does not differ much from leadership and relationships at work.)

There is another aspect to arrogance that comes out of this chapter: the arrogance that comes from expecting God to answer our prayers in the way we want at the time we want, as did those that complained that they had not yet seen the promised land and therefore they had no desire to follow Moses any longer. That arrogance assumes that God is required to live up to our requirements, that we know better than God what is best for us. God not answering prayer in the way they desire is one of the greatest complaints I hear from the teens in my catechism classes. The concept that God sometimes says "no" is something that even adults sometimes have trouble accepting. Yet, often we find a better answer when we don't tell God what to do but simply turn over our problem to Him (and don't take it back). Yes, bad things do happen, and people, including children, do die, but we cannot assume in arrogance to judge that God should have intervened. Only God knows when intervention is warranted and when it is not. We have to trust that He knows what we do not.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to show me how to let Him always be in charge and to nudge me to check myself for arrogance regularly, to repent for all those times I have made a leadership or even personal decision without first asking for His guidance, to give thanks for all the many ways He helps me on a daily basis at work and at home, and to offer praise for the way in which He resolves problems in ways that far surpass my abilities and even comprehension.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, open to any lessons on humility He wishes to teach me, no matter how difficult they may be. (I have had some experience with His lessons.) I especially welcome His leadership in my life and at my work. I love the way in which He takes care of the people in my directorate, sometimes even protecting them from bad decisions I make when I forget to ask for His help, and in my family and community.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a good week, remembering in all things to do humbly whatever God requires of you. May you be blessed by His love and His aid as you do so.

Monday Morning Meditation #18: Arrogance Leads to Destruction

Much like the Jews in the wilderness whose story fills the Book of Numbers, I am still wandering through this book. I found Chapter 16 fascinating because I see so much in common between the ancient Jews and my modern peers. In this chapter, 250 people, led by a man named Korah, rise up against Moses and Aaron, and, by extension, against God. Their complaint is two-fold: (1) they are every bit as holy as Moses and Aaron and should have direct access to God, and (2) Moses (and, again by extension, God) has failed to bring them to a land of milk and honey). This angers God. Moses begs God to have mercy to these men and especially not to punish all the Jews for the sins of a few. When all is over, the Jews as a whole are spared by their leaving the tents of the rebellious leaders, as God demands through Moses, but the 250 who led the rebellion perish for their arrogance.

Reading: Numbers 16

Meditation: While there were a number of emotions floating around the Israeli camps, the one that seemed to permeate the most as I read this chapter is arrogance. Arrogance is an emotion that I see a lot at work. It is the most typical downfall of the junior and senior managers who work in my directorate and the topic that I address most frequently at leadership development meetings that I lead (or that I bring in others to lead). When I arrived at the directorate as its head nearly four years ago, I introduced servant leadership as the leadership approach across divisions -- rather unhappy divisions, I would note. In the past four years, as we all have become more skilled at being servants to our employees and as our employees through our regular reverse evaluations become more skilled at pointing out where we, their managers, are failing to be good servants, the unhappiness in the various divisions has turned to deep-seated satisfaction and happiness that even visitors find palpable. Still, I have a few programs whose managers just don't get it, and their employees are the ones who most frequently take advantage of my open-door policy to complain. The core issue with these managers has little to do with doing things right. Most are very good at doing things right; on the other hand, they, at times, are not willing to do the right thing when it would mean throwing out the rule book. The core issue is their arrogance in thinking that they are "in charge" and, therefore, they determine how things work. They seek power to make themselves feel important. What they don't understand is that

- managers are never truly in charge; the employees who do the critical work are really the ones in charge;

- power held is always weak; power given away (authority granted to employees) grows exponentially in direct proportion to the amount given away;

- when, through the arrogance that emanates from some sense of our greater worth or skill, we hold all leadership decision-making unto ourselves, we deprive God of the opportunity to be the true leader in our organizations for God, as we have seen in this passage, chooses to work through humble and obedient people and, at best, lets arrogant people do themselves in; the reality is that we are not just as good as God at leadership, and when we turn leadership over to God and do it His way, incredibly marvelous things happen, like the development of whole divisions that love each other and love coming to work and even, upon some occasions, real miracles. (I would note here that leadership and relationships in our families and communities does not differ much from leadership and relationships at work.)

There is another aspect to arrogance that comes out of this chapter: the arrogance that comes from expecting God to answer our prayers in the way we want at the time we want, as did those that complained that they had not yet seen the promised land and therefore they had no desire to follow Moses any longer. That arrogance assumes that God is required to live up to our requirements, that we know better than God what is best for us. God not answering prayer in the way they desire is one of the greatest complaints I hear from the teens in my catechism classes. The concept that God sometimes says "no" is something that even adults sometimes have trouble accepting. Yet, often we find a better answer when we don't tell God what to do but simply turn over our problem to Him (and don't take it back). Yes, bad things do happen, and people, including children, do die, but we cannot assume in arrogance to judge that God should have intervened. Only God knows when intervention is warranted and when it is not. We have to trust that He knows what we do not.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to show me how to let Him always be in charge and to nudge me to check myself for arrogance regularly, to repent for all those times I have made a leadership or even personal decision without first asking for His guidance, to give thanks for all the many ways He helps me on a daily basis at work and at home, and to offer praise for the way in which He resolves problems in ways that far surpass my abilities and even comprehension.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, open to any lessons on humility He wishes to teach me, no matter how difficult they may be. (I have had some experience with His lessons.) I especially welcome His leadership in my life and at my work. I love the way in which He takes care of the people in my directorate, sometimes even protecting them from bad decisions I make when I forget to ask for His help, and in my family and community.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a good week, remembering in all things to do humbly whatever God requires of you. May you be blessed by His love and His aid as you do so.

Sabbath Sunday #2: Miracles in Real Life

Fr. Christian Mathis (Blessed Is the Kingdom) has made the suggestion that we "rest" on the Sabbath by taking a break from our normal blogging and sharing an older post of which we are particularly fond. Rest? Gladly! I don't get to do that very often! (Although I was able to do that last weekend when I was in South Carolina with my daughter and son-in-law between business trips to Georgia and Alabama.)

My recycled post for this week is Miracles in Real Life. If you missed it the first time or simply don't remember, please click on the title, and you will be linked there. Sometimes miracles happen that we find out about only years later. (I wonder how many miracles happen that no one sees because God chooses to remain anonymous or because we are too busy interpreting events in our own errant ways.)

Have a blessed Sunday!

Hungry and Homeless: Take the Challenge

I have started a new blog, not that I need a new blog, given that I have trouble keeping up with the ones I already have. However, God did give me the gift of words and has made it clear that this gift is to be used for Him, so it is not like I have a real choice in this, either, even though nearly everything is a matter of free will and desire. (Personally, where something is clear, I certainly would not want to choose to move in a direction other than the way God points.)

This new blog, H2 Helper (or, Hungry and Homeless Helper), is an outgrowth of my posts on almsgiving and, beyond that, personalized help to the poor (often, in my case, using God's credit card) and is meant as a vehicle to share the results of all those who are willing to take up the challenge to go beyond throwing money at the hungry and homeless. Let's get to know them, to give them dignity, and to provide them with respect. The challenge is the one that St. Francis threw down and took up: to eat together with the outcasts of society (in his case, mostly lepers) and through getting to know them in this manner, treating them as the same children of God that we all are, no less worthy of love and kindness than ourselves.

The challenge: Invite someone who is homeless and hungry to dinner once a month. (More often, if you can afford it, is, of course, wonderfully fine!) Get to know that person one-on-one.

And then, if you are so inclined, report here about the person you got to know and how that person has brought some meaning into your life and contributed to the world in spite of being hungry and homeless. There are two ways of doing that. Send me a post by email (elizabeth.mahlou@gmail.com), and I will add a graphic (or use yours) and post it, linking it to whatever site you wish. Or, simply leave a comment here or at the H2 blog site.

Will you join me in this monthly endeavor? And ask others to help, too? (Those who cannot afford to join in by offering a meal -- it does not have to be fancy: fast food, at home, a picnic in the woods; it all counts -- can help by finding ways to pass along the information about what I hope will become the H2 Helper movement.)

So, forward march! Let's go out and feed a hungry person (emphasis on the word, person), get to know him or her, and let's chat about what happens when God leads us to those who may have nothing today but will some day inherit the earth!

7 Quick Takes Friday #8

This has been another week of tripping. So much has sped by so fast that I cannot believe that it is time again already to contribute to the 7 Quick Takes Friday meme hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary. So, here goes with a quick review of the life of a gypsy, as I seem to have become.

1. Friday saw me in Georgia, where I did some training for the employees of a branch of our organization. They usually get trained trainers, people who are assigned to our training division, but I love training, so I had picked a particularly difficult problem for them and had put it into an interactive, case-study format for reflection and discussion. They clearly enjoyed it because they begged to work late to do more of the problems that I had brought. For me, doing some training along with my “inspection” time takes the sting off the visit by the “big boss” and lets me get to know our branch personnel as individuals. I did feel somewhat embarrassed before them because I come so rarely (once every 1-2 years) that I could not remember all their names, but they forgave me for that. They left with hugs and the comment that now that Lizzie lives close by perhaps I would come more often. It is nice to be wanted. It is nice to have people ask for more of my time, not less of it! It is nice to be viewed not as the “big boss” but as the “great supporter.”

2. The weekend was lovely. I spent it with Lizzie and Blaine just over the line in South Carolina, where Blaine seems to meet with some anti-Mexican prejudice but is holding his own nonetheless and claims to be generally happy there. Lizzie came to my rescue through a shopping trip. I always forget something when I pack. This time it was my underwear. Given a week-long trip, that definitely needed to be replenished. Princesse, the cat from Tunis (see Twitterlets on the sidebar) who had been flattened by a falling mattress was, Lizzie thought, ready to have the wire removed from her jaw, so we went together to pick her up from the vet after Lizzie had dropped her off enroute to my hotel. No such luck! A slow healer, Princesse has to wait another three weeks. She is not quite herself. She usually attacks visitors – I guess she thinks she is a dog – but she calmly let me pick her up and pet her. Perhaps having had to rely on humans for a lot of support the past two months will have mellowed her permanently. That would be a positive outcome although Lizzie says she thinks it is the feisty spirit that brought her through when the vet was uncertain whether she would survive. At any rate, the weekend was a great joy and success, except for the hour I spent with Lizzie at her gym – I still hurt! It is difficult for mothers to keep up with daughters. Perhaps I should not try!

3. Supper on Sunday was a special event. We ate at a Mexican restaurant in South Carolina, so we did: Lizzie, Blaine, the director of our Georgian branch, his wife, his immediate supervisor who had traveled east with me, and me. The branch director has always been cautious around me, and therefore it has been difficult to get to know him. His wife, on the other hand, turned out to be a pleasant extrovert who had no hesitation in plunging into any topic at hand. She, for whom my rank was meaningless, and I clicked, as they say, and that, along with the ease in atmosphere quickly established by Blaine and Lizzie, led to the director, for the first time ever, lowering his affective filter, enjoying the dinner, and losing his caution in my presence. That changed relationship was evident during our next-day meetings. He had apparently been reluctant to bring his wife. I am certainly glad that he chose on the side of lack of caution.

4. Tuesday found me in Alabama, where I met a long-time friend who has recently moved to a center that is co-located with our Alabama branch. That evening our branch employees and I went to dinner at a seafood restaurant -- well, almost went to dinner. Right after our appetizers were delivered, the restaurant kitchen caught on fire, and we were all chased out into the street. The fire trucks came while we waited and then finally the manager said it would be another hour or two and forgave us our bills. That was not the way I would have wanted to get a free meal! Actually, the situation was a tad more complex. Everyone wanted to march off to another restaurant as soon as we had egressed from the restaurant, but "ruthless ethical" me (as I have sometimes been called insisted that we wait until we had a decision from the manager as to whether we should pay for the meal. We ended up with a free meal (or start of it) nonetheless, but with clear consciences, which can be more nourishing than food.

5. While at our branch office, I ran into someone who worked in another corridor, a very special corridor not occupied by anyone from my organization. It was a special program for school students about space travel. NASA helped set it up, and astronauts come periodically to help make presentations on space to school students. (NASA's involvement in K-12 education impressed me when I was working at NASA-Houston ten years ago, and it still impresses me.) This particular project had put together a relief of the Mars surface in a special room made to feel like you are in outer space, and the students build their own rovers. The overseer of this project had a background in engineering. How ideal! More ideal -- he exuded excitement in the possibilities of children to explore outer space either later in life as astronauts or right now on a mock planet.

6. After 11 hours of flying, I made it back home to California Wednesday evening -- yippee! -- just in time for an evening of Bible study with the group I meet with each week that includes Sr. M, a family who attends the Spanish mass at Old Mission church, several active attendees of the English masses, and two fellow secular Franciscans. Ah, that is what I love about California, the blending of various population groups, where we can learn from each other and grow together. Wednesday night we also had a special Bible scholar guest. While it had been a long day, following my late-to-bed-early-to-rise sleepless start of the day as a result of our late-night Tuesday search for a restaurant that was not on fire, the interesting discussions that ensued at our study group kept my attention flowing when I otherwise might easily have ebbed into sleep.

7. Today I had off from work! Yeah! I love when I have off from work and am in town because I can attend the daily mass. I had to drop off something for our Thanksgiving outreach at the parish office, did not talk as long as often I do, and so ended up in the chapel a few minutes early (a rare occurrence). Sr. M grabbed me as I came in and asked if I would do the reading. (Sure. I always remember the readings better when I am the one doing the reading! Who doesn't?) After mass, I spent a leisurely afternoon over coffee (for her) and milk (for me) with a fellow parishioner whom I had not seen for a long time. She is, in fact, the parishioner who always helps out with RCIA and had been very supportive for me during my time in RCIA. She told me that she had signed up for clean-up after the church-sponsored, town-wide Thanksgiving dinner next week because I am always on the clean-up crew and it had been too long since she had had a chance to work with me. Since she usually helps with something other than clean-up, I felt very honored. Finally, the perfect day off ended with catechism class. Since I had not expected to complete my work in Alabama so quickly, I had not expected to be back in time to teach catechism, but, lo, there I was! My wonderful co-teacher had the lesson plan under control, and I could relax and enjoy interacting with the teenagers. (I just found an interesting book that I am eager to begin including in our class work: If God Loves Me, Why Can't I Get My Locker Open?).

And now, I think I had better follow the drift that has been carrying me while I have been writing this post forth and back, to and from the land of slumber. At this point, I shall only sally forth into slumber and wait until morning for any return to a life and day that will start with 503 emails to be answered (I peeked!)

Good evening -- or good day, as it may be in your part of the world, and my God bless you whatever time it is!

Blest Guest Wednesday #4: Thank God for Good Bible Translations

Since early August, it has been difficult for me to post regularly although I have somehow managed not to let more than a few days go by between posts. Considering that my crazy travel schedule is definitely going to continue for a few more months, I have been able to bring a little sanity to the blogging part of my life by asking for help. Some wonderful fellow bloggers have been willing to write guest posts for me on Wednesdays, hence the name "Blest Guest Wednesday." As today's "Blest Guest," I asked Karinann, who has been with me on this blog from nearly its very beginning and who writes a blog called Daughter of the King. I think you will find her blog and her post here interesting. Here goes:

Thank God for Good Bible Translations

The Douay Rheims Bible is my Bible of choice. It is translated from the original Latin Vulgate. While reading Father George W. Rutler's beautiful tribute to his friend and fellow priest, Father Richard John Neuhaus, I was reminded of why I use the Douay Rheims in my personal reading of Scripture. Father Rutler referred to the fact that although Father Neuhaus was not conscious when he anointed him, he may have been aware that he used the Douay Rheims translation. It was then I remembered the articles I read written by Father Neuhaus on the topic of Bible translations. Father Neuhaus often said that "he found the language and the music of the revised liturgy a cause of sorrow". I tend to agree. The lectionary and missalettes printed for use with the Novos Ordo Mass use the New American Bible translation. When compared to the Douay Rheims or the Revised Standard Version (Ignatius Bible), well there is no comparison. First and foremost these versions seem to give a more precise translation. I (along with others)find the language more beautuful and poetic. Father Neuhaus gives numerous examples and comparisons in his articles "Bible Babel" (First Things May 2001) and "More Bible Babel" (First Things- January 2006). Both articles are definitely worth reading. You can find them by searching the archives for the dates listed above at the First Things website.

Now having said all that, I will add that I got my start reading Scripture with the NAB and for that I am grateful. However, I do recall, after awhile, feeling the need for "something more". It was probably around that time that the Holy Spirit gave me Father Neuhaus' articles. So thank you Holy Spirit and thank you Father Neuhaus.

The translation of the Bible a person uses for personal reading and study is a personal choice. If you are feeling like I did for the need for something more, treat yourself to a sampling from the Douay Rheims, the Ignatius Bible. I promise, you won't be disappointed.

Monday Morning Meditation #17: I Am the Lord Your God

I have now slowed to a crawl through the chapters of Numbers. Who would have thought this particular book would be so rich and interesting? In the verses leading up to 15:41, which says, "I am the Lord your God," much takes place in quick order. Israeli spies are sent, in accordance with God's instructions to Moses, to look at the land of Canaan for the purpose of possessing it; this is the land of milk and honey which had been promised to them. While the land was good, the spies found the people living there to be formidable, and, not trusting God implicitly and fully to fulfill His promise, all but two (Joshua and Caleb) became afraid and tried to dissuade the people from doing God's will by spreading lies about the land, e.g., that the land "eats its inhabitants." Upon hearing these lies, the people of Israel began to complain and back off from their forward movement, even going so far as saying that they wanted to return to Egypt. This angered God, but Moses appealed to God to forgive the Israelites yet another time, and God did. There were, however, consequences. The Israelites' punishment was to be 40 years in the wilderness, and with the exception of Joshua and Caleb, who had urged the people not to rebel against God and to fear nothing because God would be with them, only the successive generation would be allowed to enter the promised land. God then killed the lying spies by the plague, and Moses told the remaining people, who had changed their minds and now wanted the promised land, not to go up the mountain because the Lord was not with them. They went nonetheless (in the words of Numbers, they presumed to go), and, as a result, they were smitten by the Amalekites and Canaanites.

Reading: Numbers 15:41

Meditation: Part of the Lord's prayer asks that God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Also, we often pray that in any given situation that God's will be done. Sometimes those are meaningful words when we say them; sometimes they are empty. Clearly, according to this passage, God's volition will be done, no matter what, but how much better it would be if we were to do it without pressure, with gladness in our hearts, in contrast to the rebellion of the Israelites. Our lives would not necessarily be easier, not less filled with sorrow, but we would have a certain peace, not obtainable any other way, in accepting, like Job did, the will of God. Recently, I was struck by the extraordinary submission to God's will evidenced by one of the followers of my blog, Debbie, who lost her daughter, Amy Dawn (who had been on my prayer list for months), to cancer. I cannot come close to describing the depth of her faith that can serve as a model for all of us, so I will suggest that you read her words for yourself at her blog: There's an Angel on My Front Porch.

What happens, however, when unlike Debbie, we do not submit to the will of God, when we disobey God? Punishment! For the Israelites, it was 40 years to be spent in the wilderness. Now, perhaps that was not a punitive response, but an instructive one. In those 40 years, they Israelites would have to learn to rely on God for there is little to rely on in the wildernesss for that number of people. Yes, the Bedouins manage fine -- I know, I spent a week with them two years ago in that same wilderness of the wandering Israelites and quite understand how easy it could be never to find one's way back out, all the sand looking alike -- but the Israelites were there before the days of modern vehicles and domesticated camels. While there have been times in the Old Testament when God's punishment has been fierce and final, in the case of the 40 years in the desert, a certain amount of "faith formation" could take place if the Israelis were, in the long run, willing. (To comment on that, I will have to read further -- although we all do know the ending of this story.)

What happens when we try to do something when God is not with us? This is another question raised by these chapters, and the answer is quite clear: we fail! When the Israelites presumed that they could fight without God, those who went to the mountaintop were slaughtered. Oh, so many times, I have made a decision at work or planned to do something without first praying about it, and likely as not it has failed. When I later pray about it, a good result ensues. I hate being a slow learner like this, but, alas, I am. One of the most dramatic cases occurred a number of years ago when an action I took -- not prayed about because I was an atheist then -- resulted in a lawsuit against my organization and me, and the plaintiff won. The organization (thankfully, a forgiving one) had to pay tens of thousands of dollars for my mistake. Then, when I had left the organization and returned years later, I found that this individual had been promoted to a collegial level, and now I would have to interact with him on a regular basis. I forgave him for that lawsuit and made it clear that I had done so; that occurred at a time after my conversion when God was teaching me about forgiveness. As a result, this person has not only forgiven me in return and become a good colleague; he has become one of my greatest fans and touts his fanhood far and wide.

What happens when someone tries to thwart the will of God? Well, in yet another lesson from these chapters, it would appear that the individual disappears. That is what happened to all the lying spies who tried to prevent the people from fulfilling God's plan for them to acquire the land of the Canaanites. Away they went, succumbing to the plague. Away, too, went an obstreperous doctor in Russia when, after I had obtained the agreement of the U.S. Embassy in Moscow that Katya (Tanya), an ill, blind orphan, deserved to be and would be issued a visa (and eventually was -- see the section on recent prayers answered in the sidebar), the doctor refused to provide the paperwork needed for Tanya to travel to the USA. Right about the time that Tanya got her passport and would need the travel paperwork for the embassy, the doctor simply disappeared and was replaced with a more supportive doctor. No one knows what happened with the first doctor, but getting in God's way was certainly not the smartest thing to do!

Similarly, when I brought dying child artist Shura to the US, I received a number of indications that I should bring him to the Washington, DC/Virginia area. However, because I wanted him with me in California -- I erroneously figured that would be easier all around -- I brought him to California. We found no medical or financial help at all. When we finally got our miraculous offer of assistance from a billionaire in New York, the condition should have made me wince: the care had to be given at the University of Virginia Hospital. And so, like others in the past, we got on a plane in obedience to God, and the end result was stunning: life-changing for Shura and faith confirming for many people.

And then there was Jonah, who refused to go to Ninevah. He got swallowed by a large fish and was thrown up on the shore. Where? Outside Ninevah! He was going to go to Ninevah because that was the will of the Lord, which outweighed in significance the will, desire, or fear of Jonah. I understand Jonah's predicament. There was a time I wanted a different job, and God would not let me have it. The job I have is the one God wanted me to have, the one He pushed me into, and the one He made me stay in. I had a Jonah experience, and I can tell you for sure that what God really wants, God really gets, and there is no question about it!

So, what is the bottom line? God is in charge, and when it is important to Him that His will be done, it will happen! As Numbers 15:41 says: "I am the Lord your God!" Indeed, He is the Lord My God.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to show me how to let Him always be in charge and to knock me on the head when I "presume" to ignore His will, to repent for all those times I have marched on alone without Him or refused to march along with Him, to give thanks for His forgiveness in each case and his continued lessons, and to offer praise for the depth for His love and patience for someone as unworthy as I have been.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, open to His guidance and His will. I especially welcome His presence right now here with me, as well as in my daily life and at my work this coming week and always. Why He never fails me, no matter how ornery I am, I do not know, but I love it!

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a good week, remembering in all things to accept the will of the Lord. May you be blessed by the outpouring of love and the stunning miracles that follow when one listens, trusts, and obeys.

If you pick this up as a weekly devotional activity, please share with me and others your own thoughts about today's reading or any other scripture that you choose for meditation. Until I figure out how to use the Mr. Linky buttons, you are welcome to copy and use the image of the mission church and share the meme of Monday Morning Meditation for starting out the work week closer to God.

Sabbath Sunday #1: What a Wonderful Day It Was!

Fr. Christian Mathis (Blessed Is the Kingdom) has made the suggestion that we "rest" on the Sabbath by taking a break from our normal blogging and sharing an older post of which we are particularly fond. Rest? Gladly! I don't get to do that very often!

My recycled post for this week is What a Wonderful Day It Was. If you missed it the first time or simply don't remember, please click on the title, and you will be linked there.

Have a blessed Sunday!

DWM: Driving While Mexican

Years have passed -- 35 of them, to be precise -- since I trained at Ft. Jackson, South Carolina as an initial entry soldier. I went on, over time, to receive a direct commission and become an officer, leaving behind enlisted days (though I benefited from that experience tremendously) and South Carolina. I have not been back until this year -- earlier to visit our Columbia-area campus briefly and today to visit my daughter Lizzie and my son-in-law Blaine. Lizzie and Blaine have been living in southern South Carolina now for three months. While they like it, they have run into a phenomenon with which they had never had to contend while living in California: racial discrimination.

Lizzie, my little professor (another Dr. Mahlou), reports that her classrooms contain mixed races who work together peaceably but self-segregate, with African Americans sitting on one side of the classroom, Caucasians on the other, and the others in the middle. She has talked to them about desegregation in their classroom, but they insist on sitting with their friends -- and their friends generally come from the same ethnic/racial group. Lizzie, who has found this voluntary segregation to be disconcerting, has intermixed them for projects, but for regular lecture-listening, they go back to their color-coded seats. By comparison, Lizzie grew up in an area that was racially blended, not merely mixed. As a result, her two closest girlfriends were Hispanic and Asian, and her boyfriends were (in order) African American, Hispanic, African American, Caucasian, Hispanic. She married Blaine, who is Hispanic. Typical Californians, my other children also grew up racially blind. Shane also married Hispanic, and Noelle's significant other, Ray, is African American. Donnie is as Caucasian as they come, and I am mostly Caucasian with a drop of Native American blood that "took" as far as my facial features are concerned.

Years ago when Lizzie graduated from the University of California at San Diego, President Clinton (in office at the time) asked to be the graduation speaker. (That created an interesting atmosphere for graduation: thorough searches and secret service men armed with machine guns sitting on the rooftop overlooking the graduation field.) For unknown reasons, President Clinton had chosen UCSD as the place to roll out his diversity policy. Lizzie and her classmates found the president's speech odd as they looked around the graduation rows and could hardly find any two students of the same race sitting together. Now, seeing the situation here in South Carolina in which the Caucasians generally hold the best jobs, the African Americans generally work in the service field, and the Mexicans constitute the labor pool (of course, not 100% of the time, but the general tendency is in this direction), she understands why the president felt a need for a diversity policy.

Blaine, however, feels the small prejudices the most because he is of Mexican descent. He gets pulled over by the police about once a week for unknown reasons. They run his license or plates and then let him go without explanation. He is convinced that he is pulled over for DWM (what he calls "Driving While Mexican") which cannot, of course, be fined. He drives the kind of car that Caucasians typically drive, and he dresses in ways that the Caucasians generally dress. He holds a supervisory position within the university system, and so he talks the way that Caucasians generally talk. He was born and raised in California; he did not know that he was supposed to act differently from the mainstream population. When Lizzie's department chair met Blaine briefly, she reacted mostly to his skin color. Trying to help Lizzie decide to accept the job offer, an acceptance that would be based on Blaine finding a job, the chair mentioned that Lizzie should talk to one of the sociology professors who had done a lot of research on the immigrant pool in South Carolina. When Lizzie explained that Blaine was not an immigrant, that he had been born and raised in the USA (albeit to parents who were Mexican immigrants), the chair amended her response to note that this sociology professor speaks Spanish. She did not know how to respond when Lizzie said that Blaine does not.

One wonders if this kind of thinking is a legacy from pre-Civil War days. Does attitude last a century and a half?

Lizzie and Blaine yearn to come back to California where their mixed-ethnicity marriage is common. There is value, though, I believe in remaining in South Carolina and being an example (maybe even trend-setter) to others.

Yes, I know that all people from South Carolina -- as all people anywhere -- are not necessarily alike. Still, I am praying for the SC police force to look past skin color and stop unfairly pulling Blaine over for DWM.

I would love to hear from any South Carolinians. Is my/our perception wrong? Is there some explanation that I do not know? Please weigh in!

7 Quick Takes Friday #7

Although it has been a week full of events, I cannot believe that it is Friday again already and time to contribute to the 7 Quick Takes Friday meme hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary. I am grateful to Jennifer for coming up with this meme; it is about the only time I truly look back on the near events of my life and take stock, which is a bit easier to do, sitting quietly in a hotel room in Georgia than in a corner of a frenetic room at home (the center of frenetic activity these days being our cats).

1. The week started out with lots of fun. Saturday night we held a joint birthday party at our local pizza parlor for Donnie and Doah, whose birthdays are two weeks apart, so we split the difference. The party began right after mass. Doah, Donnie, and I were there, of course, and some of our friends from church. Shane, Lemony, Nathaniel, and Nikolina showed up. Nathaniel was a tad hyper; after all, he was surrounded by game machines and lots of people, so he kept darting back and forth betwixt and between. Fr. Ed came -- it took him a bit longer to get there because he had to greet parishioners after mass; we did not. This was his first chance to meet little Nikolina who has been on the parish prayer list for months. He was delighted to see how happy she was -- until he got really close, making her bawl. (He said he has that effect on all babies!) Also part of the group were friends and their kids from Morocco. The Muslims and the Catholic priest hit it off quite well, and the two kids charmed Fr. Ed, and he charmed them. Doah took lots of pictures, but he seems to have taken his camera back with him without downloading them to our computer. If I come up with any, I will add them to the pictures on the post about Doah at Clan of Mahlou (and announce in the sidebar). Fr. Ed is very good to Doah, and Doah was pleased as punch when Fr. Ed announced Doah's birthday to the parish at the end of mass.

2. Sunday ended in calm splendor. A friend and I attend a contemplative prayer group, followed by mass, both conducted by Fr. Kevin Joyce at St. Lucy Church, quite some distance from us, but the once-monthly experience is always worth the drive. We are reading Christian Mystics by Ursula King, and that is informative. More important, the lectures and teachings of Fr. Kevin are formative, highly so. I wish it could be every week. No, let's be honest. I wish it could be every day! But life goes on, and we don't get those kinds of wishes. What we do get every day, though, is the opportunity for lectio divina, for contemplative prayer, and for spending time in the presence of God. God is never too busy for us; it is we who are too busy for Him.

3. On Monday nights, my prayer group from Old Mission meets. This Monday was our first film night. There are so many good Christian films that have come out in the last ten years that we cannot possibly see them all. After complaining about the fact that we just don't have time to watch even a few, we decided to do something about it and turn the second Monday of every month into a film night. We meet at my house -- Donnie got a good deal on a huge flat screen television last year -- where we can crowd around the TV on the sofa, chairs, bean bag, and floor of our small living room (the television takes up the entire wall, not because it is that gigantic but because our living room is small). Physical closeness makes for good comradeship, or emotional closeness. We watched Faith Like Potatoes. I would recommend it to anyone who has not seen it. Donnie, who is still agnostic but leaning ever more slightly toward believing, joined us. Yes! Then, when the movie had finished and we settled down to prayer, he retired to his office. Our group leader, a spiritual director, gave everyone a little book of advent readings and prayers. He left one for Donnie, too, and yesterday I noticed that Donnie had been reading it. Yes! Oh, my, God is patient, and in this respect, so am I. I know that the two of them will one day meet.

4. On Tuesday, I participated in a Veterans' Day ceremony that involved hanging a beautiful wreath at the "Berlin Wall" at work. (We were gifted years ago with actual slabs from the Berlin Wall after it was torn down; those slabs now stand on our campus as a memorial.) Since I am a veteran (Vietnam War era), the ceremony was very meaningful to me although originally it came about to honor the vets from WWI (the so-called "War To End All Wars" -- if only! We are still only dreaming about world peace and keeping the only home we have, i.e. planet earth, safe.) After the ceremony, I returned to work and found that one of the senior managers had offered a junior manager position to someone who worked in another of our directorates, someone with whom I have had an ongoing monthly lunch and discussion of spiritual matters for quite some time. She wanted to know whether we would have to give up that colleague/friend relationship and activity up if she were to take a job two echelons down from me in my directorate because if that were the case, she would turn down the job offer. "Don't be silly," I assured her. Our directorate is pretty flat, and I have these kinds of relationships with everyone from the senior managers to the rank-and-file. Moreover, we are a happy group of people, and spirituality, while we are supposed to separate religion and work, infuses our directorate. I think that is because we don't put up any barriers to God coming to work with us and helping us out.

5. Wednesday, wonderfully, was a holiday, the real Veterans' Day. While errands crowded in on me -- with all my traveling recent and upcoming, I had many things to catch up on and put in order at home -- I had a moment of peace at my oasis, Guadalupe Chapel. Daily mass is celebrated not inside the mission church but inside Guadalupe Chapel, a much smaller and more intimate place. Whenever I have a holiday or can play hooky from work, I come to the chapel for mass. The chapel is old; the aged, open-beam wooden ceiling tells the age. The cracked stucco walls tell the age. The rough-hewn cross on the wall tells the age. The lack of heat (we bring coats) tells the age. Built by the local Indians about the same time as the rest of the mission and the mission church under the direction of the Franciscan friars, in particular Bl. Junipero Serra, Guadalupe Chapel served as the primary church for some years until the mission was completed. It is peaceful there. Fr. Ed's homily touched home, Sr. M was back from out of town, and a friend from our prayer group who generally does not attend daily mass was able to make it, too. It was a small gathering of about a dozen people -- typical for the daily mass -- and a special half-hour: the oasis between a busy morning and a busier afternoon, a wonderful interlude with God. I wish I could have more of them.

6. I definitely doubled my pleasure on Wednesday. First, there was the noon mass, and then there was the weekly evening Bible study with an elderly member of our parish and Secular Franciscan from the chapter where I am a candidate. It is an interesting gathering and includes some teenage girls, their parents whose first language is Spanish, Sr. M, some other members of the English-speaking part of our parish, and a couple of non-Catholic outsiders. (Once, when we were discussing some aspects of the Hebrew scriptures in depth, one of my assistants, who is an recent Orthodox Jewish immigrant from Israel who studies daily with a leading rabbi in New York [I allow him to come a little late to work and work into the evening so that he can do this] came to our Bible study group and answered questions on interpretation of the same scriptures from the original Hebrew.) As a result, we end up reading the same texts in multiple versions: American Catholic Bible in several versions, Santa Biblia in several versions, the King James translation, and some other Protestant translations, and, on the one occasion, the original Hebrew. One does not come planning to relax but to study in the meaning of the word associated with the religious universities of Old Europe and the Middle East of yesteryear. What a blessing to have this opportunity in our tiny little town! Oh, but it is a mission town; that makes such a difference!

7. Down to the last day of the week: Friday. It is here, and I am here. Here is Georgia. I left early Thursday morning and arrived just a few hours ago. I was here in August, visiting one of our branches. They have some new things that they want me to see, so on the plane I hopped and here I stopped. It is more exciting to be here now, though, because in August my daughter and son-in-law, Lizzie and Blaine, moved to a city in South Carolina near the Georgia border where I am right now, she from New York and he from Illinois. Finally, they are working in the same state again! Funny how kids follow in their parents' footsteps. Donnie and I have spent a lot of time in our nearly 40 years together working in different cities, different states, and even different countries. I understand the stress of separation all too well. So, I look forward to seeing them back under one roof, along with recently "repaired" Princesse, the cat from Tunis, and her sidekick, Woods -- a huge Siberian woods cat who was found stranded in Illinois years ago. Yep, just like her mother, Lizzie is a cat rescuer!

And now I need to take a breath and get on with the rest of Friday. I wish you as good a day and weekend as I plan to have! :)

Monday Morning Meditation #16: True Forgiveness Requires Love

After zipping right along for the last two weeks, this week I got only as far as the next chapter of Numbers. I found the story in Chapter 12 as very relevant to today, to my life, and to the life around me. In this story, Aaron and his wife, Miriam, become upset that Mose had married a Cushite woman and then tried to put themselves on a par with him, saying that God had spoken to them, too (In dreams). Now, there's a great lack of humility. The nasty root of all it seems to be jealousy (and failure to mind one's own Ps and Qs, as the saying went when I was a child.) So, God called them all together and told them why He spoke directly to his servant, Moses, who was a humble man. God was not happy with Miriam and Aaron, however, and after He left, Aaron noticed that Miriam had become white with leprosy. She had to be removed from the community. Aaron turned to Moses, asking him for help, and meek Moses, having apparently never taken umbrage at a brother he clearly loved, turned to God, who ultimately relented and cured Miriam.

Reading: Numbers 12: 1-16

Meditation: This story struck me as containing an important lesson, but I had to read the chapter several times to determine what that might be. (If someone more astute than I considers the lesson to be different than what I have analyzed it to be, please correct me. I love correction; it is the source of my learning.) At first, I thought the story was mainly about jealousy, i.e. Aaron's and Miriam's jealousy of the relationship that Moses had with God. Then, there was the issue of the sister-in-law that they did not like, and also the sense of self-importance expressed in a form of self-aggrandizement as they noted that God communicated with them, too. (Obviously, in a manner different from the way He communicated with Moses -- which could make a person jealous. Each of us has our own individual relationship with God. The relationship that one person has with God should not make another person jealous, but since God gifts individuals differently and human nature being what it is, I could see the chance of baseless jealousy developing.)

After thinking through all that, however, I posit that the story is more about forgiveness and love, the two being inextricably interwoven. How well I know about that woof and warp! A couple of years ago, the president of our union at the organization where I work died suddenly. His best friend took charge of the funeral, and his family flew from out of town. The friend gave the family a list of potential eulogists, with their backgrounds. They chose two others and me. Had they been given the full background, they might have selected differently. The union president had opposed my being hired and not much time had elapsed since I had arrived for him to become supportive. He was, at best, collegial. I, too, was collegial. Actually, I forgave him. After all, he had lost; I had been offered the job over his dissent. So, surprised but willing, I set about to write the eulogy, but I could not. The more I tried, the blanker the page became. The blanker the page became, the foggier my memory became. I could not think of one thing to write, let alone dreaming up those wonderful warm fuzzy phrases for starting and finishing. There really is not a lot of advance writing time for a eulogy, and so the night before the funeral I was facing the prospect of reading a blank sheet the next day. I asked God for help and was led to understand that I had to forgive this man. But I had forgiven him, I argued. No, was the response. Forgiveness is not simply the deliberate pushing aside of malice or resentment. True forgiveness springs from love. You mean, I have to love this guy, honestly, seriously, fully love him? I took in that concept with more than a bit of incredulity. How would that be possible? Well, as we know, with God all things are possible. As I began to think of the good things he had done for several of my employees, the times he had come to me to ask me to bend some rules for the good of one person or another or to take in someone who had run afoul of management in another division, and the way in which he had worked tirelessly, selfless, and humbly for the benefit of the employees, I began to feel both love and respect for him. I wish I had been able to achieve this level of forgiveness while he was alive. The minute that wish crossed my mind, the dam holding back the eulogistic thoughts broke, and ink splattered all over my paper. I had a eulogy, a really decent eulogy, thanks be to God. The next day after I delivered it, my boss said that, based on the warmth of my words, it must have been difficult for me to write that eulogy. How little did he know how right he was -- but for the wrong reason. Several days later, the union president's friend found me in my office and told me that the family asked him to relay to me how meaningful they had found my eulogy. They wanted me to know that it was my words that had started the healing process for them. Now I cannot begin to relay to you the flood of emotions that passed through and out of me upon hearing that, but the most important one was gratitude -- gratitude to God for helping me find the love I needed to write the words the family needed, for the memorable lesson on forgiveness, for a divinely induced change in my attitude toward the person I was eulogizing, for being allowed to be His instrument in healing the family (or at least beginning to heal the family), for the healing that this experience brought me, and for the spiritual growth through which He had led me compassionately but resolutely. How I love God's lessons!

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to keep on giving me lessons, to repent for times that I have been a slow learner or even rejected a lesson that seemed too difficult, to give thanks for His compassion and patience, as well as His resoluteness, and to offer praise for His ability and willingness to reach a person as dense as I can be sometimes/often.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, open to any new understanding with which He is willing to bless me and, if nothing else, then welcoming nothing but His presence. The sheer joy of His presence surpasses any other happiness I have ever experienced.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the right-hand side of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a week, remembering to forgive others as God forgives us. May you be blessed by the love which follows.

If you pick this up as a weekly devotional activity, please share with me and others your own thoughts about today's reading or any other scripture that you choose for meditation. Feel free to copy the image of the mission church; maybe some day my Internet-inept self will be able to figure out how to use the Mr. Linky buttons, but to date I remain incompetent at the more sophisticated blog stuff. In the interim, you are welcome to use the image and share the meme of Monday Morning Meditation for starting out the work week closer to God.