Who Burnt the Cereal?

  I’ve woke up this morning to the calming sounds of my family. My four-year old gave me a good morning squeeze while I was still in bed and my ten-month old was calling “dada” from his crib. The boys and I decided to let mom sleep-in and headed downstairs for some breakfast before I had to get dressed and leave for work. This has become my Monday through Friday routine, just a father and his boys, and I love it.

  For breakfast I prepared what I prepare best, cold cereal. I know, it’s sad and you saw it coming. It’s a reality I have to face. My wife’s eggs are fluffier, her bacon is crispier and that whole “But I made it with love” bit doesn't make the toast I prepare any less burnt.

  “What’s your poison boys?” is what I call out as I view my vast selection of fruity loops and frosted flakiness. Believe it or not men, I do have an influence on what is bought at the grocery store, and ever since I’ve been letting my sleeping beauty sleep a little longer most mornings breakfast has been a wonderfully sugary adventure.

  “I’d like some Raisin Bran, dad”, is the response my four yr old gives me. Clearly this is his mother’s recent influencing, and also means I better have the raisin bran as well. Guilt, it’s such a Catholic thing. I pour us both a bowl and make some oatmeal-cereal-fluff for the baby. I also throw a few Cheerios on his high chair tray, which is my own personal touch to breakfast. The baby pushed out a fifth tooth last week and has been anxious to use it as often as possible. We once had to dog-sit for my sister-in-law and her tiny, hairy rat chewed up the legs of most of my furniture. That pooch can be considered toothless compared to the piranha that is my baby boy. The T.V. remote control is missing a few buttons and there are now holes on top of my shoes to match the ones on bottom. So, each morning I try to ease his sharp apatite with a Cheerio or two.

  It has to be obvious, even to the youngest of my boys, that I’m a mess in the kitchen. However, they don’t appear to be fearful, but rather may actually be getting a kick out of watching me muddle through our new routine. Their toothy smiles and laughs also put me at ease with the whole Morning-Mr. Mom situation. What a way to start my day. I highly recommend it, soggy cereal and all.

  Before I realize it the boys are fed, I’m dressed, the real Mama is up, and I have to head out to work. It’s a blessed day already.


Blessings,
Michael

Noise

  Each morning I jump into my car, start the engine, and that’s when I face how noisy my life really is. I’m not talking about loud music on the radio, or even construction around the neighborhood. I’m talking about the cries from the foreclosed signs that fill up block after block, and the moans from the rotting wood frames that are unfinished houses. I ‘m speaking of the screams from the demolished iron fence that can be seem from the freeway, and the angry shouts from the eyes of the young women who look three times their age walking the streets just to pay for a room to sleep in that night. This is the noise I see the moment I back out of my garage; the moment leave my faithful wife and oh so innocent children. On most days I just want to pull back into my garage, run back into the house, and burn some more toast, but I don’t; not on most days.

  No, on most days I take that long half-hour drive to the office, waiting behind lost individuals who cut me off in their expensive cars whining about their lattés to a plug in their ear who could care less. These people make noise enough for themselves and countless other around them. Their souls beg for freedom from materialistic slavery. Their hearts emit a retched screech that demands the bonds of secular humanism be broken. Their faces crackle behind posh expressions and no one cares to hear. No one wants to hear the sadness that they all have driven themselves to. Screams for mercy from their spirits go unanswered, passed off as mere common background noise, but not be all.

  The old woman clutching her rosary at the bus stop clearly hears them. These calls for help are heard by the young man offering up his own lunch to the dirty, unshaven, sun-beaten man sitting on a crate on median. The young women giving up her summer to dish out soup in a shelter hears the moans and offers her mercy for all it is worth. I hear them.

  When I look beyond my needs I hear the voice of Christ asking for water and a piece of bread. I hear God asking me to love his children the way I love my own. From my sister who feels forced to sell her body, to my brother who decides to sleep in someone else’s bed I hear the call to love them all. I hear them and answer their pleas when I show my children how to be prayerful. I hear and answer the calls to stop this rollercoaster so many have found themselves on by loving my wife the way the Lord intended, sacramentaly. By looking beyond myself I respond to the noise that saturates this world.

  It may be thought that I ache to get home at the end of my work day simply to escape all the noise that’s out in the world. Not true. For we all know we cannot rest from answering God’s call to be pastoral to everyone we encounter until we see heaven; otherwise we may not see heaven nor hear the sweet sound of His voice. The best way to preach the Gospel is by living it each and every day. The journey is not smooth, but we know we do not take it on alone and each lump is well rewarded on the last day. Wait…Do you hear that?


Blessings,
Michael

Sinners on their way to Sainthood

  "The Catholic Church is not a country-club for saints, but rather a rehab center for sinners".  These are the words spoken on the radio that struck me deep while driving home from work today.  A rehab center for sinners?  Is it an accurate statement?  Does it do justice to who we are as Catholics?  You bet your holy sacraments it does; at least by my standard.  We are all sinners on the way to sainthood; we're not there just yet, and some of us are not as far along that journey as others, but on that journey we find ourselves nonetheless.

   The great news is we do not travel alone.  We have the Bride of Christ as a real presence in our daily lives and her guidance is infallible.  Now, that should take some of the pressure off of living up to the standards that have been placed on us by those in social circles that wouldn't mind if we fell right on our ...backsides while on our journey.  Perhaps we have set standards for ourselves that are near impossible to keep; I know I struggle with that. Whatever the case may be , we can always rely on the Church and it's many blessings to point the way and perhaps even give us a nudge every now and then.

   A few such blessings are those of the Sacraments; seven beautiful signs of God's love for us.  The sacrament that I will focus on in this article is that of Marriage; the one sacrament in which both the husband and wife continually administer to one another.  I will focus on my marriage in particular and will use examples from within it to illustrate the journey to sainthood my wife and I assist each other on.  The stories I will share are not so the reader my get to know me or my wife better, but rather to open a few windows of self-reflection in the life of said reader, whether married or planning on marrying.  If my job is done correctly the reader should find reflection will come quite easily.

"I believe in getting into hot water; it keeps you clean."
G. K. Chesterton
English author & mystery novelist (1874 - 1936)

  I've said before and it definitely deserves repeating; I truly believe my best shot at an eternity in heaven is living my marriage as it was meant to be lived, as a sacrament.  In all honesty, I could find no better company on this journey than Christ and my wife.  The reasoning behind this is simple. I tend to take Chesterton's advice a little to often and get myself into a lot of hot water and who better to help me emerge from said water, a smarter man for it, than Christ and my wife?  Husbands, and husbands to be, you have to be truthful with yourselves.  In marriage there will always be hot water and you will find yourself at certain times up to your neck in.  Many times it may feel as if the loving hands of your wife are pushing you further down into it.  Have no fear, that is when Christ comes in to sooth the mind of your beautiful bride, pull you out, and help your both dry off. In reality it was Christ who was holding on to your belt trying to stop your from jumping into this mess in the first place, but will let your wife figure that out on her own, when the wet floor has dried and she is a bit more calm. 

   One of the occasions when I put the water on the stove to boil (got myself into hot water) was not long after my wife and I had just bought our first home in town.  This house was ours; every inch of it was under our name.  Well, in reality, it still belonged to the bank who held the loan, but we were making payments .  So, for the sake of not stretching this article out too long, lets just say it was ours.  I held the keys in my hand all week long as I went to and from work each day.  I may have even slept with the keys in the pocket of my pajamas.  That's how ecstatic I was to be blessed with a new home.  I was also fearful that this was all a joke and any moment the bank would pop out of the closet in roars of laughter and take the house keys and kick me and the family out to the curb.  I know, I know, I have issues.  It just all seemed too good to be true.

   In an effort to solidify this house was truly our new home, one Friday I invited family over for a small Bar-B-Que to happen on Saturday.  It wasn't to be a big gathering, just my parents...and my three brothers... and their wife and kids; which wouldn't have been too much to handle with my wife's excellent organization skills.  The thing is I neglected to send an invitation to my sweet wife.  Husbands, and husbands to be, you all know where I'm going with this.  NEVER make plans for people to be in your wife's house, (that's right, it truly belongs to her, despite what the deed says) without clearing it with her first.  Faithful as she is, she may not divorce you, but the thought will cross her mind if even for a brief moment.

   Thankfully, the next thought to strike her will be on how she can pull it all off with the time frame you so graciously gave her.  To complicate the matter, in my particular circumstance, being so newly moved-in we weren't completely...moved-in.  I had invited family over for a Bar-B-Que and I hadn't even unpacked and re-assembled the grill.  I had been waiting to hire landscapers to put in a backyard.  You read correctly, I didn't really have a backyard.  We just had a large open space.  We had dirt, plenty of dirt, but little else.  The old lawn chairs I reminded my beautiful wife we had were of no help.  In fact, I decided to hide them out of fear they were light enough for my wife to pick up, but still heavy enough that one being thrown at you could still do some damage. 

   When I tried to reassure my wife that my family has always been pretty laid-back and they really wouldn't care what the backyard looked like I was forgetting to take my wife's emotions into account.  By her perspective, any company to be invited over is to be treated with the respect and courtesy of an honored guest in your home; everything should be in order.  Supreme effort should be taken to insure the comfort of everyone in attendance in your home.  She was right then, and obviously still is today.  It's because of such beautiful thinking that our home today is often described as welcoming, warm, and a place you feel at home in.

  The impromptu bar-b-que never saw fruition.  Not because of anything on our parts, but simply because of the health of a beautifully aged woman.  My grandmother became ill and my parents decided  it would be best to make the long drive to pay her a visit ASAP.  My dad asked me to do most of the driving to which my wife was very quick to answer with, "Please, take him for as long as you'd like".  It was just a day-trip but time my wife would obviously use to calm down and relax after a few hours of intense stress caused by yours-truly.  I thought it would be funny to bring the wife some ribs from the restaurant my parents and I stopped at on the way home from the trip.  Lets just say, for that night,  it's a good thing the couch was unpacked and assembled.

   There is no 50/50 in marriage.  You are either willing to give your spouse 100% of yourself 100% of the time or you're not.  Even when you feel your spouse is not truly giving all of themselves to you you're still called to give that good ole' college try in showing your full love to them.  In no other time is this evident then in the modes and methods in which the two of you communicate.  Had I relayed my fears of losing our home, childish as they may have been, to my wife and trusted in her to want to understand out of love for me we could have avoided such a trying moment in our life. 

   Now, I'm no over-emotional fool over-exaggerating on the importance of a silly bar-b-que.  In our marriage there have been seriously earth shaking moments that truly tested our faith.  However, it's in those smaller moments where one can see a bit easier what we are called to do in everyday life; when the honeymoon is over the real marriage begins.  For many, it's by living and praying one day at a time that leads us to ten years, twenty years, and even eighty years of marriage in which each of those days has been lived as God intended; filled with Christ-like love for one another.  It's my wife who will get me into heaven.  It's my privilege to do the same for her.
 
  As far and few in between as they may be, your wife may find herself needing to be pulled out of some hot water herself.  I'll have to save on elaborating on those moments in our marriage for another day.  Until then, Husbands, stay clean, stay dry.

Blessings,
Michael

Just Writing

The need to write is making my fingers twitch.  Putting my thoughts into words seems to be a dominating drive most every moment of my past few days.  It's almost as if something is just over the horizon; something very big is just about to happen and I have to be sure I say all I have to while I'm still able.  Also, the fear of forgetting is a feeling I can't seem to shake.

I find myself grasping on to images, words, and ideas.  The smallest movement of the tiniest object of which I would have easily overlooked just a few weeks ago now produce the deepest emotions within me.  Not long ago I would have atributed such reactions as a result of skipping lunch or caffeine withdrawl.  It has become clear that much more than I can explain or perhaps even understand is happening in my life.  Lack of sleep can't possibly lead to such revelations as I have been having recently. 

My God is great and whatever He has planned for me I pray he prepares me for it.  May He grant me the wisdom to accept His Will with open arms.  I'll keep my readers, (all two of you), in the loop as the events of my life; no doubt it will be worth writing about.

Blessings,
Michael

Too Beautiful for the words I can say

There are times when my blessings are almost too much for me to handle; when just looking at such God given gifts humbles me tremendously.  Looking upon my wife is usually such a moment.

It's when she is not trying to be pretty, when beauty is the last thing on her mind, that I see just how gorgeous she truly is.  At times like that I feel like at any moment she is going to figure out just how unworthy I am of all God made her to be.  At any moment she is going realize I really have grabbed hold of more than I know what to do with in marrying her. 

However, I am very well aware of what I have; what God has actually blessed me with in this sacrament of marriage.  My marriage is my passage into heaven.  That's right, I truly believe my best chances of seeing God face to face is by living out my married life as He intended.  By offering my wife 100% of me and my efforts always, (never any of this 50/50 nonsense), no matter if at times I may feel she is not offering 100% of herself to me, I am living out a life-giving marriage.

My Love of God leads to my Love of my wife.  That to me is much more appealing than the alternative which is a Godless nothingness.  God is Love and Love brings forth Life.  This truly is more than my words can describe.

Blessings,

Michael

With others: a statement of interdependence

I do not stand alone

but with others to support me

I will stand my ground.

I do not see the way

but with others to walk it with me

I can make a path.

I do not possess the truth

but with others to witness what they know

I will be able to discern what is right.

I cannot master all skills

but with others who will lend their accomplishments

I can do enough.

I cannot carry every burden

but with others to share it

I may bear my own load.

I cannot meet all needs

but with others to nourish and replenish me

I will be able to give enough.

I do not have limitless free choice

but with others to consult

I will make my own choices gladly.

I will not always be consistent

but with others to laugh with me

I will regain my equanimity.

I am not invincible

but with others to reach out a hand

I may learn from my mistakes and start again.

I cannot be perfect

but with others to make up the shortfall of my imperfections

I can be content to be good enough.

--Nicola M. Slee (Praying Like a Woman)

At Least Once A Day

There is much to be thankful for this Advent season. There is also much to laugh at; too much if you ask me. Look around. Does the obvious humor in the room stand out to you? No, not yet? Are there any kids in the room?

Children rely so much on their parents/guardians to bring meaning to the simplest situations. However, it works both ways. Many times it takes the simple understanding of a child to truly see humor in an adult world.

My family and I were just about to sit down to a great home cooked meal prepared by my wonderfully beautiful and talented wife when the doorbell rang...

...Well, at least that's how I remember the evening. What it actually may have been like was this.

I get home late from work, I'm stressed and I'm hungry. My wife is carrying similar work stress plus the added bonus of dealing with a smart mouthed four year old and a crying three month old who's most likely as hungry as I am. How my wife managed to still have dinner in the oven is a motherly-mystery that may remain unsolved. It didn't matter what it was that was baking; it was going to be hot and it was going to be ready soon. After wrestling with my four year old to get him to pick up his toys and wash his hands; after the baby was silenced with a belly full of milk we where ready to sit down and eat. We where seated and all was just starting to quite down when the doorbell screeched everyone to the same tension we had when I first walked through the door.

"Who could that be? I wasn't expecting anyone. It's late, I'm just about to eat. Why does this always happen when I've had a crazy day." was my response to having to get up and answer the door.

"Daddy, can I come to?" was said by my 4 yr old about a thousand times within a few seconds.

My wife has always been a stickler for having the whole family eat together at the same time so she insisted we all go and answer the door together.

Wouldn't you know it, it was only a package delivery left at the front door, the UPS driver already gone. I picked it up and handed it to my wife. We all walked back to the table and finally began to eat.

Not long after sitting down at the dinner table did I look up and notice a puzzled look on my four year old son's face.

"Boy, is there something wrong?"

My 4 yr old look at at me and my wife and said, "Mommy, Daddy,...how did the package ring the door bell?"

We haven't stopped laughing since.

And that is how our hair-yanking evening became a great memory of a fabulous meal with my wife and kids.

Find something to laugh at right now.

Blessings,
Michael