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The Art of Distraction

I am distracted of late.

Distracted by not being at the office and confusing working from home with vacation, with a list of chores that never seems to get finished.

Distracted by children who have not been anywhere and want to go somewhere. One who is out of school (today is her first day of no school) and who announced her boredom to the world this morning. I offered to share the list of chores, but that was a nonstarter.

Distracted by the sheer volume of work on my plate. I love my job but sometimes I can feel the walls closing in on me. So much to do, so much we don’t know, so many people wanting answers.

Distracted by the unknown, the intensity of wanting to be finished with the pandemic, the virus, the masks that make me hot, and the lack of human interaction outside this domestic church.

Distracted by the cacophony of sounds in my head and around the house – the arguing, the laughing, the Alexa, the fan, the door chimes, the sounds of computers and television and keyboards and timers and endless emails and Zoom calls.

Distracted by the news of more protests and trying to see through lenses I can never wear. Trying to marry compassion and understanding with justice and order and wondering how to support a cause that is foreign to me as a white, middle class man who has never suffered because of his race and yet fully comprehending the privilege this brings.

So I turn to today’s readings. Matthew offers Jesus’ take on the constitution of our faith, the foundational principles of who we are as followers of Christ and who we ought to be with each other.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you
and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me.
Rejoice and be glad,
for your reward will be great in heaven.
Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

I am not sure these words bring me the complete comfort I seek, but they help. They promise solace for the suffering – but with the assumption that someone hears their cry and addresses their pain. They promise mercy and compassion and justice and fairness and happiness and more. But these are not obtuse promises; these promises are rooted in a relationship that begins with everyone being part of one body.

Therein lies the problem, I think. One body. Do we grasp that? Do we honor that? Do we accept that? Do we live by that?

Do we really understand that no race is better, no color more superior, no person is more deserving of love than any other? Do we accept that there can be space in our togetherness, that we need not agree on politics or religion or which channel gives the best coverage? Can we first simply accept that we are all part of one body in this crazy upside down planet we call home?

Perhaps when we truly grasp that we are one body, we will understand how our lives can be a blessing to the merciful, the peacemakers, and those who long to be called children of God.

Perhaps when black lives matter, all life will matter.

Or are we too distracted by the noise that surrounds us?

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All About Emily

I usually go to great lengths to avoid naming the children in these posts. I call them by their numbers instead since we are not much into nicknames. Growing up as one of 11, you were lucky to get called your own name and, on occasion, my mom would just snap her fingers and you were supposed to figure out who she wanted in the moment. But I digress…

This post is about Emily. She graduates eighth grade this year. True, it’s not a milestone like college or medical school or perhaps even high school. It’s more like part of the normal growing up process and, in this town, the law. Still, it’s an event worth celebrating.

When her big sister graduated last year, relatives came. There was a party, a Mass, a celebration, gifts, cake. She got to see a Broadway play with mom and dad and the family’s favorite priest.

Emily got a sign in the yard.

She feels the slight the universe has dealt her and knows that others are celebrating the same way. She tries not to take it personally, but she’s a kid. She will turn fourteen in a few weeks and, like every fourteen year old, she is filled with hormones and attitude and excitement and wonder and hopes and fears and eyes that roll. She is excited about high school but nervous about going to clean out her locker. She is looking forward to new challenges in a new school, but hesitant about what school will look like when it reopens in the fall. Like all of us, she is facing a new reality that has yet to be defined and seems to change every day.

The sign in the yard doesn’t quite cover it.

Emily is the kind of kid that, at a young age, sought out the ones on the playground that had no one to play with and engaged with them. She wants justice for all and peace in our world, but will turn on a sibling who chews with their mouth open faster than anyone I know. She is helpful and kind, a good cook and talented student. She is social and bright and conscientious. She can also be moody as hell and can cut the room with a tone that gives even me the chills.

In the coming weeks, her mom and I will plan a party and family and friends will join virtually. We will toast her with sparkling cider and make her queen for the day. There will be gifts and a homemade cake and her school will do a special video with all those annoying baby pictures the parents hate submitting. We will do what we can to make sure she knows we are proud of her and this milestone in her life.

Most of all, we will pray that she and her siblings will soon be able to visit with friends, return to school unmasked, and maybe even go to the beach. It will take a miracle, to be sure, but we are people of hope.

In the meantime, let us collectively pray for graduates everywhere and for their parents who look for ways to make these rites of passage meaningful during these interesting and challenging times.

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Life in the New Normal

They tell us there is a new normal coming. I think it’s already here. In the months ahead, we will likely see less gathered events and more virtual ones. We will see fewer school buses on the road and more masks on faces everywhere.

And we will see protesters. They will protest that the government is encroaching on their freedom. They will argue that the government should reopen because people die every day and a contagion that kills thousands is just one of those things. They will argue that it is an overreach to close stores and beaches and theaters.

Surely there is a better way to get through this.

When the experts say that a face mask will help contain the virus, why oppose it? When the government says social distancing saves lives, why gather in groups? When the doctors and nurses who are fighting on the front lines, seeing death every day, keep telling us to wash our hands and stay home to stay safe, why venture out?

Yes, it’s boring. Yes, we have to get creative with education and daily chores and even the menu at home, but instead of complaining, perhaps we could see this as an opportunity to try something new, something imaginative, something that feeds our hearts and souls and keep our bodies safe.

Each day, more and more people are losing their jobs and it seems that the longer this goes on, the more likely it will be that this sad trend will continue. The economy will suffer, business will close, and life will change.

But none of that will matter if you’re dead.

So let’s stay safe, stay at home, get creative, and keep the whining to a minimum.

Have a good week, but, please, stay in your own yard.

 

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The Simple Things

So we are in week six, I think, of the stay at home order. The kids are getting tired of only seeing mom and dad, but we’ve connected with some good friends and family via Zoom and the kids Facetime with their friends, so that has helped.

But we are enjoying the simple things in life.

We got Ace Number One a record player. Only $15 and the crackling sound she craved is here. Of course, the only records I have are some that my older brother gave me from his radio station and a collection of American heritage by Burl Ives. But she loves the sound and the taste of a yesterday she never experienced.

We built a fire pit in the back yard and moved rocks from everywhere to encircle it. There is nothing quite like the taste of hot dogs, marshmallows, and a chilly Connecticut spring night to remind you of the blessings that surround you.

When it rains the school work is finished, we binge watch The Mentalist or Parks and Recs or watch a Star Wars movie again.

We have tried Doubletree Hotel’s chocolate chip cookies. One batch was great. The other batch – no so much – it seems the baker got distracted and forgot a few lines of ingredients. We now know what baking soda, salt, and cinnamon bring to that recipe.

Child number three is busy with his own crafts. He’s made a Darth Vader helmet out of cardboard and more lightsabers that I can count. It’s amazing what a box of 500 hot glue sticks will let you accomplish.

Child number two has discovered sewing and made the cutest stuffed animals for the children who moved in next store.

The youngest has painted, rearranged her room, painted some more, and can be caught practicing head stands and cartwheels anytime she’s outside. Such a spirit of joy in that one.

The experts predict we will be inside for another month. I miss going to the store, but not spending money. I miss going to work and the kids miss being in school. I imagine Maureen misses working uninterrupted in a quiet house.

But if I am being honest, I really, really love having everyone home, being together, and spending time surrounded by those I love the most.

May you find silver linings in the simple things all around you.

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A Very Different Holy Week

It is hard to believe it is Holy Week without little crosses made of palm all over the place. Plus, I kind of miss those strings of palm that come from all the frayed edges. They get all over the car, the floor, and the kid’s rooms. The palms were a bit of a misnomer 2,000 years ago – as people confused the types of kingdom Jesus came to establish, so maybe not having them is a good thing.

Still, it is a whole new world, isn’t it?

We will not watch 12 people from the parish get their feet washed this week. We will wash each other’s feet at home.

We will not stand in line to venerate the cross, trying to kiss it where no one else has kissed it (I cannot be the only one who does that). Instead we will take a cross off the wall, read the Passion, and have our own little service.

There will be no fire on Holy Saturday night and sparse Easter baskets come Sunday morning.

But there is cause for joy. We are spending tons of time together, watching movies, laughing at old Vine videos on YouTube, and building the treehouse.

The walls of the treehouse are complete and the siding starts tomorrow. Fortunately, the supplies were delivered long before the virus took hold and I have even convinced a local roofer to come by as we hide in the house to put the roof on.

We celebrated the 15th birthday of Ace Number One last week and I am grateful to the dozens of you who were a part of it. Tiger came home and she was delighted. If you want to see the video, let me know. I won’t post it here in an attempt to shield her privacy but for those who haven’t seen it, it will bring you to tears. We took portions of many of the letters you wrote and decorated the box. When she got to one that referenced the day he was lost, the look of surprise came over her and she tore through the box.

“He came home,” she muttered.

All of us knew the implications of the reunion. A childhood friend returned, reminding her of simpler times and easier days. He has been hanging out of her pocket since. It will take some time for her to get through all the notes and letters.

This week, we will celebrate another birthday as Maureen follows my footsteps into the next decade. We will delay her annual birthday dinner because of Good Friday but we will celebrate her life just the same.

May this holiest of weeks bring you closer together with your own loved one – even if only virtually.

May the solemnity of Holy Thursday give way to the eerie calm of Good Friday. May you turn off the television and find some solitude to remember the great sacrifice of that day.

May we remember that Jesus’ “yes” to God on the cross created the space where hatred goes to die and, in that act, Jesus literally loved hatred to death.

May we remember that he did it once for all, paying the debt man owed God but could not pay unless God became man. The paradox of salvation that is only possible if we understand that mankind needs redemption and yet cannot achieve it on his own.

As C.S. Lewis says, “Only a bad person needs to repent: only a good person can repent perfectly. The worse you are the more you need it and the less you can do it. The only person who could do it perfectly would be a perfect person – and he would not need it.”

Let us remember that 2,000 years ago, God became man, walked among us, and tried to teach us what being fully human looked like.

As a viral darkness covers the earth, let us look for the light that comes from this simple fact: we know the end of the story.

That’s right. We know how this story ends.

In that, let us find the hope the world so desperately needs.