Monday Morning Meditation #84: Advice to a Son

I continued on in the Book of Tobit, where I found an interesting series of maxims. Tobit, having escaped death, goes to his son, thinking to instruct him in how to conduct himself over the span of the rest of his life, as well as to give him some money he had set aside. The maxims focus on the following: duties toward parents, perseverance in virtue and avoidance of evil, necessity and value of almsgiving and charity, diligence in work, prompt payment of wages, the golden rule, temperance, obedience to God, and prayer.

The chapter ends with a comment on poverty. In Tobit 4:21, Tobit tells his son:

21 Do not be discouraged, my child, because of our poverty. You will be a rich man if you fear God, avoid all sin, and do what is right before the Lord your God.

Reading: Tobit 4.

Meditation: Most of Tobit's advice to his son would be pertinent today, both for us and for our children, as would be his final comment in chapter 4. I wonder if we give our children as sound advice. Of course, if we give them no advice, we will still give them advice. They watch us; they talk with us; they apprehend our values. So, without saying one word, we do end up giving them advice. I found out that not too long ago when my oldest daughter, Lizzie, posted on facebook for one of my birthdays, "Lessons from Mom." (While they all make sense, given the shared experiences of her youth, I had no idea at the time that I was imparting such lessons.) We would do well to think about the advice we are giving through our everyday behavior before and not after our children have determined just what that advice might be.

The last comment caught my attention especially for the chihuahua of poverty has followed for a good portion of my life: throughout my childhood and, because of two children with birth defects (and a third with birth defects whom we took in), throughout the childhood of my children. Now, my older son is experiencing the same poverty for the same reason. He has an adequate income were he to have a normal family life; however, with two children with birth defects, the salary is just not adequate to the task. Donnie and I help as we can. The rest is up to God. I believe that Tobit is correct. We should not be discouraged by poverty. There is so much in life more important than money. One can have a very good life without money. A good life is not necessarily a carefree life. In fact, a good life might just be the opposite.

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to thank God for everything I have experienced in my life, including decades of poverty up until just a few years ago. I will praise God for the ways in which God taught me to appreciate a lack of fiscal riches and enjoy the human riches I was given. The only thing I would ask is for God to continue to decide what I will have and will not for I have learned that if I have a lot, then I can, like Tobit suggests, give much to others, and if I have only a little, then I can accept from others and I can use my God-given creativity in how I go about making the best of whatever I do have -- and that is truly exciting. I don't ever remember complaining about the poverty or envying others, but in the event that I have and do not remember, then those will be points of repentance for me. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, 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 think 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. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar 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.

7 Quick Takes Friday #43

See more 7 Quick Takes Contributions at Jennifer Fulwiler's Conversion Diary.

Since I spent most of the week sleeping -- well, at least evening and night and even an extra hour most days into the morning -- I am not certain that I have seven "events" to report, but I shall "dig" a little and see what I can come up with. Actually, I will make them short because I feel like sleeping already. It is this darn cold/flu/virus; I could sleep it off a lot more easily if I did not have to go to work every day! As for the seven takes, here goes:

1. Dinner with Shane and Lemony. This week was Lemony's birthday, so Donnie and I took her, Shane, and the grandkids to dinner at her favorite restaurant, Dona Ester's, in our little town of San Ignatio. We had quite a choice of authentic Merxican foods. If not anything else, this town is indeed authentic Mexican in many respects, not just in its food choices. Nathaniel sat beside me and chatted non-stop about bakugans, about which Grandma Beth knew very little and still knows very little (I cannot quite get my head wrapped around these newfangled toys) and battle plans, the latter of which he sketched out on a napkin for me. When it was time to leave, he mugged for my camera. Nikolina meanwhile slept and slept and slept, did not wake up at all during the entire meal (hm, seems she inherited that sleeping thing from her grandmother). Pleasant evening.

2. Tripping to San Diego. The next day Donnie and I left for San Diego. Padre Julio, a priest from Colombia, about whom I have blogged on this site earlier (see posts on Fr. Julio) had asked us to come see him in San Diego, where he had moved recently. When Padre Julio was a priest in our diocese, I had taught him English so that he could celebrate the English Masses. (I originally met him when he was celebrating our Spanish Masses, which is the Mass I usually attended on Sundays -- still do.) I was able to get free tickets to San Diego from all my frequent flying. Off we went, having obtained rather nice seats right by the door, or so I thought. It was freezing there, and so I was glad I had brought a warm hoodie sweatshirt for keeping warm! Cold aside, pleasant flight.

3. Dinner with Padre Julio. Once we reached San Diego, I called Padre Julio, who suggested that we meet at Anthony's Restaurant, a popular seafood restaurant on the harbor -- well, on land in the harbor. Thanks to the GPS we had brought with us and installed in our rental car, a Mazda that we quite enjoyed driving, we easily found Anthony's. Finding parking near Anthony's, however, was not nearly as easy a feat. It was clearly a popular restaurant. After several swings through the parking lot, we lucked out. Someone was leaving as we were approaching, and we were able to pull into the only open spot. I have no idea how Padre Julio found a space, but he did and, to our surprise, was already waiting for us inside. There were some interesting dishes on the menu but somehow we all felt like fish. So fish it was. That and some lively conversation, filling in the missing gaps in our information base since we had last seen each other. Please conversation.

4. Mass with Padre Julio. On Sunday, we put the GPS to good use again as we wended our way through San Diego to the church where Padre Julio was celebrating Mass, Cristo el Rey (Christ the King Church). We quickly realized that we were the only Anglos in the entire church -- gringoes, I suppose, would be the better term. Padre Julio was very happy to see us there and introduced me to his congregation as his teacher and us as "good gringoes" -- we were not quite sure how to take that except in the best of intentions as was meant by Padre Julio. After Mass, we parted wtih Padre Julio as he had to leave for Guadelajara and we got to spend a relaxing evening at our hotel. We had contemplated spending an evening on the town, but we know San Diego well from the days when three of our children were attending college there, so opted for a kick-back evening, instead. Pleasant rest.

5. It hit. On Monday, it -- the cold, flu, virus, whatever it is -- hit me, and it hit hard. I was wiped out before we even made it back from the airport. When I get sick, I crave sleep, something that I otherwise often get very little of. I was suddenly very tired, and it seemed like the long trip from San Francisco had never been longer. I am not sure if it seemed longer because I was not driving or would have seemed longer had I been driving; in either case, all I wanted to do was sleep. And so as soon as I reached home, I slept. All afternoon. All evening. All night. Pleasant dreams.

6. A week of work. I had grand thoughts of perhaps sleeping through the rest of the week as well, but that was not to be. Every day filled up with appointments before I left for home the previous day. No complaints will you hear from me about them for most were quite interesting appointments. Many people just wanted to talk about one thing or another. Several junior managers stopped in, wanting guidance on one or another topic or mentoring or just to talk. All the senior managers were out of town, so it seems that with the echelon of management between the junior managers and me gone, interaction between us took place on a several-times-a-day basis. (I will relate a joke about management and talking tomorrow; I am out of time for today.) Pleasant week.

7. Afghanis. The Afghanis who work in our organization, especially the Pashtuns, are delighted with the fact that I have now spent time in their country and that I have learned to speak some Pashto. They go out of their way to find opportunities to give me a chance to practice Pashto. For some reason today, I felt like an ice cream cone at lunchtime and stopped into Burger King where I had heard ice cream had just been added to the menu. The BK is across the street from my office, so it is often a gathering place at lunch for my colleagues. Sure enough, there were a few there today, too. Two of them were Pashtuns, and they immediately approached me, speaking Pashto. We ended up sharing lunch although I had not originally planned to eat lunch at all. These two are relatively new employees, so I got a chance to learn more about them. Pleasant company.

And now it is indeed night time. So, I will wish you all pleasant dreams.

7 Quick Takes Friday #42

See more 7 Quick Takes Contributions at Jennifer Fulwiler's Conversion Diary.

Since I have four important pieces of work to accomplish before going to bed tonight (which is almost over since I had to teach a catechism class earlier), I am pressed into sharing just a few very QUICK thoughts, but I guess that is the point of QUICK takes, isn't it? So, here are a few random thoughts over the past three weeks of missing quick-takes posting:

(1) Our special quest quarters. Lizzie and Doah have both been home for brief periods. Doah spent a couple of weeks after his period of tribulation before we found a great group home in a nearby town for him. Lizzie flew in and out for a wedding of a friend in Carmel. Lizzie was able to use our sofa as a guest bed -- not the most luxurious of sleeping spots, but at least the cats deferred to her and found other lodgings for the night. Unfortunately, Doah is allergic to cats and to sleeping any place cats have been. He wakes up coughing and sneezing every other hour when he sleeps on the sofa. So, with a little creative thinking, we came up with a guest house for him -- a tent pitched in the back yard. He loves it. When I would go out onto the deck to check on him, I could hear him snoring in the tent. Yes, a place to sleep...

(2) Group home. We do like Doah's group home. It turned out to be owned by a Russian, who was equally surprised to learn that Doah's mother had earned her PhD in Moscow and spoke Russian and that Lizzie had gone to school there. We had a lovely lunch together -- no, not Russian, but Chinese -- and his daughter and Lizzie, about the same age, really hit it off, comparing their school experiences in Moscow. What a small world we live in!

(3) Airport meetings. Speaking of small worlds, I arrived a few minutes early at the airport on a quick trip to San Antonio. There, sitting at my gate, reading a book, waiting for my plane, was Nakissa, my roommate from Jordan. Now I suppose that latter phrase requires some explanation. When I first went to Jordan in 2004, Donnie remained behind for the first six months, settling our affairs in the USA, putting things into storage, and the like. Once I arrived there, I realized that we needed to build a learning center for the university. I invited the recently retired director of a learning center at an American university. Our uni did not have the money to pay housing for her six-month contract, so I put her up in my spare bedroom while waiting for Donnie to arrive. We had a great time together and became very good friends. I see her very rarely these days; she spends a lot of time in New Jersey. Running into her at the airport was one of those unplanned, delightful moments, all the more delightful because it was unplanned. I know the world is small because I have had such delightful experiences all over the world -- suddenly, at some airport, meeting someone I had not seen for quite a while. Delicious!

(4) San Antonio. I really enjoyed the time I spent in San Antonio. I met with six of our branch campus directors. All of them are quite competent, and this was quite a relief over my trip to Korea where I had to fire the campus director for incompetence. This time I did not have time to visit the Alamo (when I first saw it, it was outside of town, but now it is in the center of a tourist-loved shopping area. The river walk is near by. I have walked the entire river walk in the past, but this time I had no time for extra activities. I flew in, briefed the directors, and flew up. I did, however, enjoy an ethnic potluck put on for my benefit by the local campus. I had offered to buy a pizza lunch for everyone, but the local faculty demurred and offered the much tastier potluck in return. I can never seem to outgive my faculty. I can only keep saying thank you.

(5) Fear-mongering. I really enjoyed my time in Afghanistan, and I never felt unsafe there. I think I was well cared for. However, leading up to my arrival at final destination I encountered several opportunities to develop a strong sense of unease. For example, I had to go through training about how to act if captured, and my employer required me to update my will. Sheesh! That does not give one a good feeling. (Well, I updated it, but did not get around to it until Saturday afternoon before leaving on Sunday; I am fortunate that the only notary in town is also a friend and was willing to do all the paperwork at the last minute.) Continuing the them, upon arrival, we were quickly told what to do if we were attacked enroute to our destination. Double sheesh! Nonetheless, I found myself unable to worry and once there gave no thought to personal safety. I had a job to do, and God has taken care of me in more chancy situations.

(6) Reading. I recently learned that a large number of the high school children in our part of the state read only at the third grade level. Criminy! What has gone wrong that this could possibly be the case? I can usually get three-year-olds to read at grade 3 level if I have just a few minutes a day with them on a regular basis. Reading is not an unnatural activity, but I do think (and research has shown) that if kids get too far behind, it does become an unnatural activity. If I have had any doubts about the reading problem in California, it is brought home with each new catechism class I teach. This evening, I asked one of the boys to read a paragraph from our study materials. He did not want to at first, then gave in, and haltingly read, misreading or not being able to read 2-3 words per sentence in materials written at the typical, Readers' Digest, sixth-grade level -- and he is a sophomore. If I were to estimate his reading level, I would estimate it at third-grade level. I know they gain a little in reading skill during their year in catechism, but we only meet twice a month. I wish there were some way to help them more. Reading is such a basic building block for so many different professions. When I listen to kids like this read, the image in my mind is of closed doors -- all the jobs that will never be open to them unless they learn to compensate for their poor reading skills or, better, learn to read.

(7) Poker. Today I confirmed that my job is often a game of poker. It happens from time to time that I have to call someone's bluff or bluff myself. Today our Personnel Office wanted to retract a transfer job offer we had made three months ago to one of our admin assistants who will be getting on a plane for our Hawaii campus tomorrow. She had already shipped all her household goods and given up her apartment; we had filled her old job behind her. Now the Personnel Office finds a mistake that one of its employees made in the hiring process and wanted me to call her and rescind the offer. They said that they had a special list of displaced employees from some closed offices who had first right to this job. (I did not think that this was true but at the time did not know for sure.) They told me that if I did not rescind the offer, I would end up with two people for one job. I bluffed and said that I could find a second job in the same place. (I figured I could throw myself on some client's mercy to trump up a position in order to be able to say truthfully that I could "find" a second job, but, of course, I did not have a second job in hand.) I also told them that I would take no steps without talking to our legal office. That gave them pause. We were interrupted, thank God, by an earthquake drill. Before I could get back to them, the head of Personnel sent me an enote. My bluff worked. They told me to say nothing to the employee; they would check the special list and let me know if there was a second job need. Right after that, I was able to talk to the attorney, who supported my position. I sent a follow-up note, suggesting that they also talk to the legal office before they put the organization into an indefensible position where the employee would be able to sue for extensive damages. They wrote back -- quite tamed -- that they would work it all out for the benefit of everyone concerned. I like this game of poker. My bluffs seems to work most of the time. (Dunno what I will do when/if they stop working!)

Wishing all of you a great weekend, starting now!

7 Quick Takes Friday #36

See more 7 Quick Takes Contributions at Jennifer Fulwiler's Conversion Diary.

Well, first of all, I have to say that this has been a week of nudity, or at least possibilities for nudity, as you will see. Then, there were the travel snafus, but that is par for the course. Finally, there were some enjoyable moments with great people. All in a week's work!

So, then, here are my quick takes, with emphasis on quick since I have to get to bed tonight in order to get to the airport tomorrow to take the trip back to where I came from and get set up to do it all over again to a new location in a couple of weeks, in other words: business as usual.

1. Sunday. Well, I have blogged about Sunday, at least the part of it when I ended up late for Mass and nearly had no clothes to wear. At least, some okay-but-could-be-more-appropriate things-to-wear fell under my hand at the last minute as I was dashing out the door. (See post, On Being Worthy.) The immediate post-Mass part of Sunday was spent entertaining friends at a BBQ in our yard. Donnie cooked, of course. No knowledgeable person would ever agree to eat something I had made. (As Doah wrote in his book, Mommy Poisoned Our House Guest, "my mommy is a very nice mommy but she is a very bad cook." With Donnie behind the grill tongs, a delicious time was had by all.

2. Sunday again. After our BBQ, Donnie and I had to dash to Casa Maria, the restaurant/community center building at Old Mission, where Fr. Ed had made arrangements for all of us who had helped out with the annual fiesta (I was nearly the sole clean-up person for more than 8 hours for a crowd of hundreds) to have a special meal together. Oh, oh! Two big meals in one day! Good-bye, diet! Sunday's activities added up to a two-pound gain, so eating will be removed from my activity list for this coming week.

3. Monday. Our prayer group met on Monday, as usual, but the meeting was far from business as usual. My co-director had stumbled into big trouble: after moving and having taken on a brand-new mortgage, his overtime was eliminated and his wife lost her job. Stage right, enter panic. Stage left, enter depression. While they have been able to build stability into their financial lives beginning in 6-8 weeks and their mortgage had been taken care of up-front before moving, everyday living and ongoing bill payment looked hopeless. But, never fear, there is always hope when God's credit card is near! Everyone contributed a little bit (total $70), and I charged to God's credit card the remaining amount needed to purchase a $500 visa card for them. (See Sometimes It's Our Own for details of that decision and issues of trust related to it.) So, we met at one of the member's house to give my co-director and his wife a housewarming party and, unknown-in-advance to them, the visa card. Overwhelmed, they told us that the amount was just what they needed to make the bridge to the period of stability that lay a few weeks ahead of them. It was an emotional meeting, and as for that trust, well, the following day, I was able to get airline tickets, using my free miles, for the abused sister of a friend and her two young daughters. My friend, who also belongs to our prayer group, had only been able to raise $200, which was not enough for the tickets. When I was able to get the tickets for free, she donated the collected $200 to helping pay off God's credit card. I have no doubt that the other $210 will appear before the payment is due to the credit card company; it always does. After the meeting, I ran past Shane's house to take in his garbage cans since he, Lemony, and kids had gone fishing. (Nathaniel caught his first fish.) From the sublime to the simple! All in a day's work!

4. Tuesday. As not uncommonly happens, my trip to Georgia became instantly complicated when I arrived at the airport and learned that my plane was delayed. That created a domino effect, and I ended up stranded part-way, in Phoenix. The airline put me up at a hotel overnight, but I did not have access to my luggage, i.e. no pajamas. So, I enjoyed an evening of prancing about nude, except for some moments on the balcony when I did discreetly wrap myself in a towel. Some naughty moments in one's life can be nice.

5. Wednesday. The day had an inauspicious start. On the heels of the plane fiasco, one might think I had had my share of troubles for one trip, but that was not to be the case. Having received the bill under my door, I did not have to check out at the desk, so I left the key in my room, closed my door which locked it, then headed to the elevator, only to find out that I needed the key that was in yh room to open the door from the hallway to the lobby. Catch-22, a real gotcha! After wandering in a few circles, thinking that perhaps I would need to call the front desk and be released from my self-created prison, I discovered that there was another elevator. I tried that, and it dumped out into the lobby, no key needed. Whew! However, my wanderings resulted in missing breakfast. No big deal; I needed to give up eating anyway. With a major dash between the closely connecting flights once I arrived in Charlottesville, I made the final leg to August, Georgia without any difficulties. Lizzie picked me up at the airport, which always amazes me in that it looks more like a villa than an airport (probably it was at one time) and brought me to her house. I unpacked. Oh, oh! No clothes for work the next day. Ah! I remember putting them next to the suitcase but not in it, and Donnie had apparently zipped the suitcase, as it was, and put it int the car. So, the day had an inauspicious finish to match its start. I borrowed some university-professor-style clothes from Lizzie, not at all like my normal business attire, and somewhat oversized for me, and deciding that it was the best I could do, went to bed.

6. Thursday. What a lovely day! After leaving Lizzie's country home in South Carolina (see photo), I headed for the Georgia border and our office, where I made several presentations to the people in our Georgia office, met with clients, and spent some time with our director and assistant director. I only come once a year, so people are always happy to see me. It is like a reunion. Everyone had brought in their specialties for lunch, and we had a buffet together in the office. Yummy! Too yummy! So much for not eathing this week! I will stop eating next week!

7. Thursday again. For dinner, the director and assistant director took Lizzie and me to dinner at the Bonefish Grill, a local chain restaurant with yummy seafood. Oops! Too much food again! I checked my weight as bedtime neared. Yep, weight gain in lieu of the weight loss hoped for this week. Well, let's see, there is always next week...

Wishing you a great next week! (I won't be eating, but I hope you will be!)

7 Quick Takes Friday #29

I have been traveling all day. Actually, more accurately, I have been traveling for 27 hours. It was supposed to be longer, but when I noticed that my London-Los Angeles trip required me to clear customs in San Francisco, then get on the plane, go to LA, wait and get on another plane for San Jose, just minutes from San Francisco, I talked to the United representative about cutting my trip short in San Fran, which is really only one hour from home. (I would have traveled for another 7 hours within the state of California. I think I will have to have a chat with my admin assistant when I see her, which will not be until mid-June because of more travel ahead of me!)

Beyond Why Not Me

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, but now, thanks to Fr. Christian, I get to do it at least once a week -- and it gives me more time to spend with God, which is a wonderful gift.

For this week's post, I chose When God Says No, God Means No, a story of a clash of wills: mine and God's. God won. The story seems appropriate for a Sunday. (The priest in that story, by the way, went into cancer remission for three years, but now he needs prayers again because the cancer has returned.)

7 Quick Takes Friday #22

Amazingly, two weeks have passed since I last posted Quick Takes. Where did they go? This week's 7 Quick Takes, a meme hosted by Jennifer Futwiler at Conversion Diary, will therefore include events from the past week as well as from last week.

(1) The week (not this past week, but last week, the one I did not blog about because I was taking a week off from blogging for Easter) began on Monday with a near-deja vu experience. As I drove into the parking lot in my office a parade of five wild turkeys marched across the intersection where I was stopped at a stop sign. As I patiently waited for them to finish crossing -- all of them proud males -- from the skies parachuted a flock of hens, like fans following movie stars. The females landed and landed, and then scampered and scampered, chasing after the handsomely attired males, who seductively spread their tails so expansively that all but their legs were hidden. The experience reminded me of the rooster in San Ignatio the previous week who had held me up for several minutes. In both cases, I was late to a meeting. I can certainly come up with unique excuses. More important, these kinds of things slow down my life, and that is a good thing.

(2) The highlight of the past two weeks was attending Good Friday Mass at Old Mission, where I belong. I was supposed to go to San Antonio on Maundy Thursday. On Friday, I was to attend Mass at San Fernando Cathedral. I was supposed to, and I was resigned to doing it. Somehow, though, my travel schedule had devolved into working on Good Friday. I was not happy about it, but, as I told the senior manager traveling with me, as long as I could get away for Good Friday Mass, I was willing to limit the amount of my complaints, or at least the volume of them.

That was before he was told by our local director that the only time she could gather staff to meet with me was during one or another Mass time. This was definitely not going to work, and I did not limit either the amount or volume of my complaints. “Look,” I told the senior manager, “you are going to be combining business and pleasure there, anyway, since your family lives there, so why don’t you do the briefing for me. That provides legitimacy to your trip, and it allows me to return Thursday night from Ohio and be home on Good Friday, where I can attend Mass at Old Mission.”

He agreed. He agreed! I knew the briefing would be difficult for him, and I, as his supervisor, may still have to go back to field questions that arose and to prove that I do care about the people at our satellite offices, but I got to spend Good Friday at Old Mission.

I felt so gifted! I wanted to lift up my eyes unto the green hills that surround San Ignatio. I want to hear the local roosters voluntarily participating in the passion play as they do every year, right on cue with their crowing. I wanted to kneel on the uneven floor of the 200-year-old mission with its paw-printed tiles that took so long to bake in the sun that foxes, bears, rabbits, and all manner of God’s animals scampered across them and were memorialized in the floor, as were a couple of people buried under the floor whose stories are no longer known but whose names and years are printed on special tiles inset into the floor. That’s where I wanted to be. Large, beautiful cathedrals with huge crowds do not attract me. Our simple church with our parish cat, Sula, sitting on a pew between parishioners (whichever ones she deigns to grace with her presence that day), the feeling of being in a place that has been soaked in prayer, and sharing the sorrow and exultancy of the Triduum with friends are what attracts me. And I was able, after all, to be there.

And there is always Phinean, Fr. Ed's adopted, previously feral, black cat. On Good Friday, as if on cue, Phinean appeared from nowhere, trotted down the aisle before anyone had a chance to stand up and move forward for the veneration of the cross, approached the cross and, really truly he did this, crouched beside it, as if he he were venerating it, then turned and faced the congregation. (People talked about that all weekend; obviously, we do not live in a high-crime or politically exciting area!) Fr. Ed did not say anything. He has come to expect such behavior from Phinean, who also spends entire days sleeping in the Christmas creche every December. He told us long ago that Phinean has a right to attend Mass because he is a Catholic cat! (Not to be outdone, Sula attended Easter vigil, sitting quietly and humbly in one of the back pews beside some chosen parishioners.)

(3) Last week, before Easter, I spent the week on a business trip at Ohio State University in Columbus. I was accompanied by two peers, my counterparts who direct other divisions in our organization. One of them, a woman about my age whom I will call Patricia (not her real name), was on the same flights with me, so we had the rare opportunity to pass the time in chatting, rather than involved in work tasks. She and I have known each other for 20 years but have never talked about anything of a spiritual nature. I guess the topic came up because of my refusal to travel to San Antonio, it being Good Friday. It turns out that she is also Catholic, but more than that, she is a Third Order Carmelite and Formation Director for the local Carmelites. Now, to understand how amazing this is, one needs to know that I have been in formation with the Secular Franciscan Order for three years but have not professed. My personal spiritual experiences have been more Theresian than Franciscan. Moreover, I had just come out of an intensive period of discernment and what I believe to be divine tasking with the Franciscans, a story that is too long to share here but about which I am preparing a post for my Modern Mysticism blog. Just two weeks earlier, I had achieved peace with the situation, deciding to leave the Franciscans -- thank God, I had not professed because any profession would have been my choice alone under the pressure of friends; I have not felt God leading me to profess -- and explore an association with the Carmelites. That is where I really think God is leading me in spite of my comfort with the modest Franciscan lifestyle. However, at first I had some doubts because I could not find any local Carmelites. I tracked down the coordinates of a group 20-30 minutes north. The phone numbers did not work out. So, it was quite extraordinary for me just to happen into this conversation with Patricia, whose group is located 30 minutes south of where I live and in the same place where I work. I should have learned by now that very little truly just "happens." I will be attending my first Carmelite meeting in two weeks!

(4) Columbus was a great place for me to be because my brother Rollie and his family (three sons, two of them married with children) live there and in the outlying rural area around Columbus. My sister Victoria lives in nearby Michigan, so she brought her younger son and came to Columbus (the rural part) for a family cookout, hosted by one of my nephews. I met both nephews' wives for the first time and their children (two little boys and a girl). Both wives are named Jane! And they are both delightful people. My nephews chose well. My niece once removed, 5-year-old August, was delighted to meet a new, big-kid, relative, and we chased together around the house and yard, playing. I found interesting differences in political opinion with my brother and sister who represent middle America much better than I do, but we are the 8-pack. Those differences are unimportant. We laughed a lot, reminisced, and enjoyed each other's presence for the first time in, ulp!, seven years!

(5) On Easter Sunday, it was time with the immediate family. Shane and Lemony had already made plans to celebrate with Lemony's family, so Donnie and I gathered up Noelle and Doah, and off we went to Hometown Buffet in Salts for Easter brunch, which was bound to be a better deal than trying to eat something I might attempt to cook. Although we had not been there in two years, mainly because Doah, the most inveterate Hometown Buffet fan, moved to San Jose two years ago. Nonetheless, Doah and Donnie are unforgettable (compared to easily forgettable me who blends in with any group anywhere), and the manager very seriously told Doah that macaroni and cheese, Doah's downfall, had been removed from the menu. When he saw Doah's crestfallen face, he exclaimed, "April Fool's!" Doah carries April Fool jokes well into the ensuing next months, and the manager had remembered that. Needless to say, it was a pleasant experience, even for Noelle, who has been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster since Ray died. Of course, we killed our diets, but I am sure we will recover. Interestingly, we all take different approaches. Doah walks; I count calories; Lizzie (living and working now in South Carolina) spends hours at the gym with a trainer; Donnie does a lot of techno voodoo in determining foods and amounts; and Noelle just shakes her head in wonderment. However, all of us have lost weight, so we shall continue on our separate paths toward the same goal.

(6) Back at work on Monday (for one day before leaving for Hawaii), I confirmed that I had not been fired for refusing to go to San Antonio on Good Friday. I also found out that the world goes on without me. The presentation in San Antonio was fine without me. While I was out, we had to find three people to send to Afghanistan immediately to help with some work there. My assistants identified one already working for us who was willing to go and found two among applicants to work for us who would also be willing to go there. Actually, we all have to be willing to go there. One of my senior managers went there last month, and once we get an office in place there, I will also need to go there. I am not the one who sets up these things; my senior managers do that. However, I do have to provide quality control, so ultimately I get to travel (willingly or unwillingly) to all our remote locations. Actually, Afghanistan sounds interesting, and I have already started to learn a few Pashto words. (At least, I can read the alphabet; it is the Arabic alphabet plus three letters.)

(7) Now I write from Hawaii, where the rain has been playing havoc with the Internet. As the plane lifted off from San Francisco on Tuesday, we left behind the scalloped coastline of California, passed over a seemingly endless expanse of blue -- not sky but ocean, and then finally descended into thick mounds of white cotton candy, which turned into a white stew with whispy vapors and ultimately gave way to sparkling ground covered in and surrounded by water. Yes, we had landed on the currently wet island of Oahu. Given the rain that has had me stepping in a lot of puddles, a fickle Internet, and the fact that I left my briefing material back in California, I have had every right to be very frustrated, but something happened when I gave up frustration for Lent. I learned the triggers that cause me to become frustrated and for the most part I can now avoid them or refuse to let them be triggers. So, I did not become frustrated, but washed my shoes in puddles, took a long walk for health reasons while trying to find my way to my room and getting hopelessly lost, recalled how one briefed without powerpoint in the old days, and otherwise felt grateful for the opportunity to be more creative and more health-oriented. Yeah!

7 Quick Takes Friday #19

This week has been so concentrated on preparation for our annual review, entertainment (well, most people considered it hosting and briefing, but I find visitors entertaining), and conduct of the meeting all day Thursday that I wondered if there were even seven different "moments" to write about. But apparently they were -- barely. In fact, the time for this week's contribution to the Quick Takes Friday meme hosted by Jennifer Futwiler at Conversion Diary appeared all too suddenly; it just stole up on me.

1. I might as well start with yesterday's potted plant duty. That is what the three other directorate chiefs and I call those kinds of meetings, hosted by our CEO and board, where all we are required to do is come and sit for hour after hour while the CEO briefs the visitors. Thursday was no different. A full day of sitting is difficult for me because I am hyperactive. At least, there was one interesting interlude where one of the regulators put the CEO on the defensive and the barrage of questions was turned over to me to answer; the answers were accepted, even liked (God always seems to give me the right words to use in these kinds of tense situations -- a quick silent prayer helps a lot), so it was important that I was there, if only for that one talking plant moment. (Photo from Jeg's web.)

2. In the evening, I got to expend some of my pent up energy by leading the Stations of the Cross with our catechism teens. We went to the garden walk where we have a set of the stations. It was a bit chilly, but these are teens; they always seem to have warm blood. The kids loved the fact that Suli, the parish's feral cat whom everyone watches out for and who sleeps in the garden and attends Mass, was very interested in our prayers. She walked from one station to the next with us, sat down and waited as we did the readings at the station, then moved with us to the next station, just as if she were truly understanding what it was we were doing. After we got back to our classroom, our faith formation director found out what we had done (we have done it every year, but I guess no one knew) and told us that we are not allowed to walk in the garden with the kids because of potential liability issues. Someone might get hurt. Huh? What has the world come to?! Donnie and I used to take Girl Scouts 8-10 years old, on multiple-day canoe trips and backpacking trips deep into the wilderness in the "old days." There was great opportunity to get hurt; no one would ever think of suing us or the Scouts. Sheesh! Let's turn the clock back!

3. Yippee! Shane passed his security clearance late last week. On Monday, he got a conditional job offer from California Highway Patrol, where he worked for 12 years when he was in his early twenties (started at age 19, the youngest dispatcher ever accepted at CHP, and immediately won an award given to him personally by the governor of California for saving the life of a fellow dispatcher who had a heart attack while dispatching a three-county chase and for successfully taking on the dispatching in that two-person office so that the police officers had no idea that he was also doing CPR; the other dispatcher lived and the criminal being chased was caught); he clearly has a solid reputation there. The conditional offer is contingent on passing a medical exam, which he took on Tuesday. Everyone knows the dilemma with him needing medical insurance for his two kids with birth defects, so they have been kindly pushing the preliminaries rapidly. It looks like he may be able to start work on April 1, just about the time that Donnie and I would start to struggle with continuing to pay his COBRA.

4. Several months ago, Lizzie took on a personal trainer at her local gym -- she is a professor in South Carolina these days. She has dropped so much weight (and gained muscle and tone) that she had to have all of her clothes taken in this week. I have lost two dress sizes, as well, and now I can pass along my outgrown clothes to her because she has dropped to what I was. Donnie is now intrigued, but he wants to lose weight a third way (I count calories and Lizzie trains). He bought some kind of diet plan that he is following. We shall see how well it works. I think the old-fashioned ways are probably best: eat less and exercise more.

5. Saturday night Donnie and I had a pleasant good-bye Mexican-style dinner here in one of our beloved San Ignatio restaurants, Los Jardines (the gardens). This particular employee has been stationed in Egypt for two years now, so he makes it back here very rarely. I had needed him to direct a new project until we could get a permanent director in place, and he willingly came back for three months. He is young and from Jordan, where Donnie and I lived for a couple of years. I met his mother once, and she was very worried about his safety in the USA. (Just like Americans tend to think of the Middle East as an unsafe place, so do Middle Easterners think of the USA as an unsafe place.) His mother was quite relieved by my promise to be her son's American mother. I know she took that promise seriously, so I, too, take it seriously. We enjoyed the dinner, but it was sad to say good-bye again.

6. As part of the regulatory board meeting, I had two visitors to my office this week. One was a two-star general, who was the most pleasant person; it turned out that we had a lot of experiences in common. I heard later that he was very impressed with my directorate's work. That is always a double-edged sword. First, one does like to be appreciated, and it is often a relief when someone with great authority considers one's efforts at least competent. Second, and on the other hand, it often means being given increased responsibility, more programs, and more money (but not more resources!), creating a greater span of control and even more stress. The second visitor is a very high-ranking person within the US government and someone I met many years ago when I was working for the US government in a consulting capacity. So, I have trouble being highly serious with him; I just enjoy talking to him, bringing him up to date on our activities, and sharing funny stories of our getting into and out of trouble. He told me that whenever we meet or he is briefed by me, he leaves on a high note. Aww! :) Maybe it is because I don't worry about making a good impression on people; I only ask that God splash His love onto them through me -- and God seems to answer that prayer a lot.

7. Nikolina has a new pastime. I posted the pictures that are here earlier this week on the Twitterlets, but those will be replaced with new pictures over time, so I am including them here to preserve them, as well as to explain them better. Nikolina is entering such a fun age as she approaches the end of her first year, surprisingly healthy and on target for all developmental milestones. All her surgeries and months in the hospital seem to have taken little from her. Rather, she has developed quite a sense of humor at a very young age. It reminds me of both Noelle and Doah, who spent most of their first year in the hospital yet were very happy babies, toddlers, children, and teens and are adults whose personalities are dominated by a sense of humor and enjoyment of life, even the wonder of it all. Shane captured Nikolina at her bottle-throwing game. She heaves the bottle, watches it fall, then cracks up at herself for doing it. It's a joy to watch!

And now I wish all of you a joyful weekend!

7 Quick Takes Friday #14

I cannot believe that it is so soon Friday again and time to contribute to 7 Quick Takes Friday, a meme hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary. I am happy to report that I am back in sunny California, and it has been sunny! Also, the cold I felt I was coming down with simply disappeared as soon as I was home. (Maybe it has something to do with Fr. Ed blessing everyone's throats, one at a time, at noon Mass on St. Blaze's day. (Yeah, it was nice to start my first day back in the USA with a morning off and noon Mass.)

1. I started the week still in Lithuania. On Sunday, the English department chair and I attended Mass again at St. Casimir's. The temperature inside the church was still below zero. Proof positive: the holy water was a solid chunk of ice. After Mass, the dean, department chair, and I had dinner together at an Armenian-style restaurant. The food and company were both outstanding. Afterward, we went shopping, the one and only time while there that I had time to pick up some souvenirs, and I was delighted to find an illustrated book of the history of church art in Lithuania for Fr. Ed, who likes art. The only drawback is that the book is written in Lithuanian. Hopefully, a picture really is worth 1000 words!

2. After returning from the evening out on Sunday, I discovered that my ticket was for Tuesday, not Wednesday. On the one hand, I was distresse, trd to figure out how to get the Tuesday night class taken care of. On the other hand, this was a godsend. I really did not want my division to be reorganized in order to pose for a 125% expansion with my being able only to provide input from afar, since the direction things were taking were not at all to my liking and would have made it difficult to maintain quality control. It was a godsend (perhaps literally) that I was able to get back on Wednesday, before the final decision was made on Thursday. Once back, I was able to provide my input, and the decision all the way up and down the chain matched exactly what I wanted. Yes! Saying goodbye to the students a day earlier was emotional. Lots of hugs!!

3. The three-and-a-half hour drive to the airport was, in a word, snowy. We left with plenty of time to spare, which was necessary because a tractor trailer had jacknifed across the snowy, slick roads. Powder-white snow covered everything: the slim birch trees struggling to grow in the northern sea climate, the ice-covered lakes that reminded me of ice-skating as a child on New England frozen ponds, and the once-green-now-white fields. The trip reminded of Robert Frosts' poem about driving through the woods and snow on a winter night, only I was traveling in the day. In fact, as we passed the ice-encrusted birch trees, which in the summer could have been very much like the bending birches that Frost describes so affectionately, the poetry of Frost, a fellow New Englander, and Frost-related memories flooded my thoughts. Beyond his poetry, I have always felt affinity with Frost because he, like I a few decades later, home-schooled his children long before it was an accepted practice. Then there was the time that the British co-editor of one of the books I published through Georgetown University Press came to visit friends in New Hampshire when I was visiting family in Maine. We met at Robert Frost's farm, which was not only equidistant from where we were staying but also only a mile from my uncle's house. There, on the hood of her rental car, we signed the publishing contract, which needed original signatures, and then I showed her the real mending wall and the real west-running brook about which Frost wrote so meolidically.

4. My departure brought its moment of adrenaline. The Lufthansa flight arrived from Vilnius was delayed, and I arrived at Frankfurt with just minutes to make it to another gate area and through security before my Washington DC flight departed. I made it to the gate out of breath just as they were calling my name to say that the door was closing. Whew! This really is not the best way to get my morning calisthenics. I am sure planned exercise is a much saner way!

5. This week while on Facebook, I found a long-lost cousin. Well, she was not actually lost because I could have found her any time I wanted through my aunt, but when I made contact with another relative on Facebook, up popped the name and picture of this cousin, who is now living in New York. She was the youngest of my aunt's four children by far, not much older than my own children, so sort of a half-generation younger than me. I grew up with my older three cousins but had left Maine by the time their youngest sister was born. Maybe it is time that I got to know her better. I contacted her, and we are now Facebook friends. Lotsa catch-up to do! This is definitely going to be fun!

6. When I got home, Donnie told me that there were some interesting developments in family life that he had not shared with me by email while I was gone. Perhaps it was just as well. I have now blogged about them on the Clan of Mahlou site (Welcome Home?), but I will quickly relate them here. (a) Lizzie and Blaine, who have lived about because of work assignments in different states for the past five years of their 7-year marraige, have decided to divorce and remain permanently apart but good friends and devoted siblings. (Not blood kin, they were raised together from the time we took Blaine in from the barrio as a teenager.) We sort of think that is probably the relationship they should always have had, but grown children make their own decisions and parents support them whether or not they agree with those decisions. (b) While recovering from the loss of Ray, Noelle has encountered another difficulty. Her bone infection has worsened, and doctors are talking again about possible amputation of her foot. She is scheduled soon (still don't know the date) for some last-resort surgery to avoid amputation. Prayers welcomed!

7. Ah, Friday at last! And a special Friday at that. I was supposed to be on leave all week from work, but considering the drastic changes being planned on Wednesday and Thursday, I put in pretty full days, although I did take Wednesday morning for errands and Mass and came home at 7:00 p.m. for our Bible study group when I might have stayed later into the evening as I did on Thursday. I do have to go in to work this afternoon, but this morning, yippee, I am going to First Friday at St. Francis Retreat Center! A moment of peace! :)

Wishing all of you a weekend of peace!