More Gratitude

Day Two

I am grateful for my family.

1.  My husband
2.  Five little women who make me proud and keep me company
3.  The world's best dog.  Really.

My family is at the top of my list of best things in life but often, perhaps because they are so close at hand, I forget to be thankful or to express my gratitude to them.  It's like one of those dot paintings.  To see the full picture, I have to step back.  Up close, it's all dots.

Here's to stepping back and appreciating those closest to my side in life, to paying attention and being a good student of them so that I can be truly grateful.


Day three mañana....

Gratitude Challenge

My cousin Natasha called me out on Facebook to do the gratitude challenge.  I am to list three things a day seven days in a row for which I am most grateful.
I decided to do the challenge on the blog instead of Facebook because the genesis of Frodo Seven was gratitude.  My intention was to celebrate the moments, some big but mostly small, that make my life a wonderful adventure.  It was probably the best gift I have ever given myself.  I learned to recognize the little gems offered to me each day and I became a happier and more grateful person.
Gratitude is a wonderful habit and it must be practiced deliberately.  I have noticed that some people are more naturally content than others but that is not the same thing as being grateful.  Gratitude is not just a feeling.  It may begin as a feeling but true gratitude leads to action, an expression of thanks, a reaching out, a sincere effort to share with another the wonderful experience of having something for which to be thankful.
Because I am not writing this on Facebook, I am not nominating anyone specific to continue the chain.  Instead, I challenge everyone reading this to make an act of gratitude.  It could be a prayer, a thank you note or a small gift for a person in your life who deserves thanks.

Gratitude List

Day One 

Natasha with her grandma, my Aunt Peggy

#1  I will start with the person who challenged me to do this, my cousin Natasha.  Natasha is my cousin Ron's daughter and I met her for the first time last year.  I am grateful to have met her and even more grateful to have the chance to finally get to know her.  There are a lot of things I like about Natasha but the thing I appreciate most is her love of family.  She has made a big effort to come from Ohio to the reunion parties Chris and I have hosted for the last two years as well as many other Kreitzer family gatherings since we moved to PA.  She pitches in, plays games and generally makes the party a better one by being there.  She is a simply awesome first cousin once removed and I love her much.

Most of the Kreitzer extended family at Casa Doyle 8/30/14

#2  My big extended family.  I grew up in the context of two very large families.  Both of my parents were one of ten and I am rich in aunts, uncles and cousins.  I wouldn't trade it.

#3  Body Pump.  I love it.  For those of you who don't know, it is a weight training class that uses weights on a bar to work 8 different muscle groups over the course of an hour.  I've been doing it for five years and it makes me feel strong.  I just did BP this evening which is why I thought of it.

Till tomorrow.

Joel Osteen and The Matt Walsh Blog

While we were living in Kingwood, a suburb of Houston, I ran into a young lady at the local toy store.  She was there with two very young siblings.  I was there with my very young dames.  We got to talking about various things.  She told me she was the oldest of eight homeschooled siblings and that her family attended services at Lakewood Church.  It was my first introduction to Joel Osteen.

Matt Walsh wrote a blog post about the Osteens, in particular, an unfortunate remark that Victoria made to the Lakewood congregation.  A part of me wanted to stand up and applaud while reading.  I especially enjoyed Matt's comments about the fact that the prosperity message leaves no room for suffering and no hope for those who suffer literally unto death.  "Every Day a Friday" is attractive to the person who lives for the weekend, not one for whom every single day is a challenge.  Having worked for a hospice for awhile, I know those faces well.  

Still, I felt that Matt's message left out a few things.

First, people are attracted to Truth and there is some truth in what the Osteens say.  Take what Victoria Osteen said that attracted attention.  She preached that we serve God and come to worship Him for ourselves.  This is true in a way.  God gave us His laws for our happiness not for His.  God is infinite and unchangeable.  What we do or do not do does not change Him.  We worship Him because He told us to but in the process, it is good for us.  How many of us go to Mass on an occasional Sunday not motivated in that particular moment by love and respect for God but by guilt?  Ideally, we do what we do for the perfect and right reason.  In reality, we struggle to do any good at all.  The problem with what Victoria Osteen said is not that it was wrong but that it was not completely true.  Which leads me to my next point.

Sometimes half truths are as bad as lies.  Half truths on the way to full truth are good.  They are a part of growing and learning, a kind of slow dawning of the sun in our own lives.  However, when people who know better hold back instead of giving the whole picture, evil enters in.  This is because we are all attracted to truth not lies.  And using the truth to mislead is the worst kind of lie.  It is what Satan did in the garden of Eden.  It is what Hitler did.  It is what someone in your life probably does.

It is true that God wants our happiness.  It is true that God wants us to come to Church and worship on the sabbath.  It is also true that God is in charge.  He is our creator.  He has authority over us and makes demands on us not unlike those He made of His only Son.  Victoria Osteen's comments were false because they left out the most important part.  But Matt Walsh's comments did the same.  As a devout Catholic, he is perfectly positioned to educate on the fullness of the Truth.  Let's face it--protestants aren't, whether their last name is Osteen or not.  But Matt focused on finger pointing rather than countering with the positive and ended his post with the statement that "someone should tell that to the Osteens".  Perhaps it should be him?

At this point in our history, we should be clear on what happens when we take down existing leaders without raising up better ones.  The problem isn't just that the Osteens are watered down christians but that many--most?--Catholics are as well.  The same accusation that Mr. Walsh leveled at the Osteens can be made of most catholic pastors.  It's the church of nice everywhere these days.  But really--who will be held more accountable in the end?  I believe the best of the best can be found in the catholic church along with the worst of the worst.  It was the same way with Jesus' own apostles.     

My point is that while it is good to highlight the fact that the Osteens are motivational speakers marauding as pastors, it is important to ask why so many people follow them.  Of course people want wealth and health and good things for their families and for themselves!  Of course!  So did Job.  So did St Thomas More.  But of course, he joyfully chose poverty and ultimately death when the only other option was denial of Truth.

And what is more attractive than true joy?  Catholics have a more direct road map to joy than anyone!  Which is what I would like to hear MW talk more about.  The Catholic Way.  Undo harm with the Truth.

Throw the wet blanket but end with H-O-P-E.  His name is JESUS.

Robin Williams

I can't stop thinking about Robin Williams today.  If you had asked me recently if I am a fan, I may have answered, "not particularly."  In fact, the only celebrities I've ever been "mad" about are George Reeves and Linda Carter, to whom I wrote my one and only fan letter when I was my daughter Grace's age.  But I liked Robin Williams and I love the Genie.
Huffington Post published what they thought was the saddest tweet about Robin Williams' death, a picture of Aladdin hugging the Genie with the caption, "Genie. You're Free."  The saddest thing I read though was a quote in one of the many articles by someone who knew him personally.  "Robin was always in character.  I never really knew the real him."
As with any big news like this, there is a lot of anger circulating.  People angry at Williams for ending his own life have called him a coward and suicide itself selfish.  People angry at those comments respond with accusations of insensitivity and, in many cases, strings of obscenities.  Many messages have been sent about loving Robin Williams and hoping he RIP.
I can say in complete honesty that I know the hell it is to experience the kind of despair that would cause a person to do what RW did yesterday.  What a horrible place to be.  And horrified is probably what I feel most today thinking about that sad man preparing to hang himself.  What a lonely moment.  What a sad and lonely room.  I pray that he was not in his right mind and "knew not what he did."  I want to believe that Robin Williams is smiling and at peace now but I do not believe that death is an automatic pass to a greener pasture so I feel the need to pray.  That is for the man who died.
For the rest of us, I think it is important to remember two things.  First--when we talk about "loving" a celebrity, we do not really know what we are saying.  True love is personal.  I am sure that in the course of his career, Robin Williams felt the adoration of his fans many times over.  But adoration is not love and the "love" that americans feel for our celebrities is both conditional and self-serving, offered in exchange for performances and, in the case of Robin Williams, much laughter.  Celebrities have money and prestige but little privacy which, in Williams case, appeared to result in being constantly "on", the funny guy, having little space to be real.  Love is real.
So when I read that Robin Williams was much loved, I wonder.  Besides being real, true love involves sacrifice.  I have experienced this in my own life, which has been literally transformed by the sacrificial love of my husband.  Again, this is a personal, private, daily thing, not something fans can offer an idol.
I am not saying that Robin Williams was not loved personally or sacrificially.  I don't know.  Those of us on the outside looking in cannot know.  I understand that his depression took him to a horrible place but I know too that depression in and of itself does not kill.
Which leads me to my second point.  It is important to remember that the words we say in the face of this tragedy matter.  Not to Robin Williams whom we can no longer thank or offend but to us.  It is very important not to send mixed messages about suicide.  It is not our job to judge Robin Williams or the state of his soul by saying things like "you're an angel now, Robin" or "suicide is a one way ticket to hell". We have no way to prove anything one way or another about what happened to him after his death yesterday morning.  It is dangerous to the still living however to suggest in any way that suicide is a reasonable solution to the problem of suffering with mental illness or anything else in life.  It is the worst possible outcome.
Also, for some reason, suicide is contagious.  Which is why it is very important to condemn not the man but most vehemently, the act.  I'm sure that statement will make some people mad but we don't always know which person in our lives is standing on the wall.  We need to help her down not offer the bit of sympathy she needs to jump.
The MASH theme not withstanding, suicide is not painless either in the now or the hereafter.  Today, many are in pain because of this suicide.  I will never see a picture of Robin Williams again without thinking that if he had held on one more day, things could have been different.  Because Hope always wins.

The Real World

These posts are all out of order now girls!  I have so many drafts I never published.  This may be my favorite newly found post so far.  Enjoy!

Written July 14, 2014

    At this time last week, I was in residence at San Damiano, a retreat center near Winchester, VA.  I was one of nineteen women on an Ignatian silent retreat.  For five days, we focused our attention on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.  Our fearless leader, Father Buckley, gave us our schedules one event at a time, led us in prayer, prepared us for all of our meditations and celebrated the sacraments.  Ten years ago, I did this same retreat seven months pregnant with sweet baby Grace.  I remember preparing for the General Confession for hours, taking many rosary walks (slowly) and trying hard to stay focused on every single meditation.  When I signed up again, I thought I had forgotten everything from that first experience.  I was wrong.  I remembered little things.  The routine.  The familiar prayers every time we met with Father Buckley.  The Latin Mass.  The Amina Christi.  The central theme of detaching from creatures.  I remembered reading from the lives of the saints at every meal and loving the silence.
     To say I got a lot out of the retreat this time around would not be saying enough.  It was everything.  It reminded me of what is important, huge and, in fact, life changing.  I love Jesus and that is the central fact of my life.  But I forget.  When I'm on retreat, I want to shout my love for Him from the rooftops.  When I'm in my house, I am sleepy and take a nap.  That is the reality of a fallen soul.  Still, my savior loves me.  He takes me where I am today because He knows where my heart longs to be.
    On the last day of our retreat, we had a celebratory lunch and heard from the Franciscan priest who directs the retreat center.  He told us that a woman whom he had directed in retreat had said to him at its end, "Well, now it's back to the real world."  He responded, "I like to think of this as the real world."
     Last week, I heard birds calling, one to the other.  I walked in the woods.  I heard only the sounds of foot steps and bells at the consecration.  I didn't hear my iPod, cars honking or my kids arguing.  Wouldn't it be nice if Father were right and THIS were the real world?
    One of the best parts of the retreat was that my mom was on it with me.  I love my mom.  She was my first catechist.  My dad picked both of us up when the retreat ended Saturday afternoon.  The plan was for them to drive me two hours to meet Chris in Cumberland.
     Twenty minutes outside of Winchester, traffic came to a full stop.  We sat on the highway for awhile before Mom and I agreed that a bathroom stop would be needed in the near future and we should walk to the closest exit.  When we set out, we didn't know exactly how far that would be.  It was three miles!  Talk about a rude re-entry to the "real world"!  My mom and I are good and experienced walkers but it was very hot and, though I had grabbed my phone and ten dollars, I had forgotten to bring water.  My mom talked to everyone we passed.  Really.  Every One.  Very few people knew why we were stopped but one young man told us there had been an accident with a fatality.  Everyone was friendly and expressed a sense of resignation.  "What can we do?"  I saw people walking pets, napping in their cars, filing nails and chatting with those in neighboring cars.  It was as if an instant community had formed of "those trapped on 81 on a Saturday afternoon".  We eventually found out that a small white car heading south had crossed over onto the northbound lanes and hit an SUV head-on.  Two people died at the scene.
     When my mom and I finally neared the exit, we found we could not walk past the scene of the accident.   A policeman kindly helped us cross the southbound side of 81.  There, we encountered a fence but also, many people ready to assist us.  Two men stepped on a broken part of the metal fence and held up the barbed wire as we walked underneath it.  One woman, a nurse's assistant, offered to help my mom walk over to Target.  My mom, who is a feisty, youthful thing declined the help but--wasn't it nice that the girl offered?  Mom and I ended our adventure with a cold drink at Target's cafe and I doubt I will ever remember a walk as fondly*.
    So, in the end, I have to disagree with the padre who runs San Damiano.  Yes--I found the real world there because I found the real WORD,  Jesus, my savior.  But the world I encountered when I left was real too.  Broken, imperfect and full of tragedy but with so many kind people who want to help and who offer what they can.  We truly are all in this together.
    My parents and I prayed for those who lost their lives on Saturday.  It was a sobering reminder.  Be prepared always.  You know not the day nor the hour.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.  Body of Christ, save me.
 
And YOU.

*"And I doubt I will ever remember a walk as fondly".  But--I had forgotten all about this until I found the draft of this post!  

The back up on 81 North--3 hours worth!

Rosary trail at San Damiano

Chapel at San Damiano

Happy Easter

     Have you ever had one of those days--weeks--that awakens you to your utter need for a savior?  I have had one of those weeks.  I won't go into specifics because the things happening right now will pass and other things will take their place.  The details change but the story is the same.  I think, in the end, the particulars or the "what happened" in my life, will matter much less than the "how"--as in--how did I respond?  That sounds very Stephen Covey doesn't it?  Choose your response!  As if I were standing in front of Sheetz' fast food kiosk confidently choosing precisely what I want screen after screen.  I don't know about you but my life doesn't work quite like that.  Often, in the moment, I see one response.  Often it is not an ideal response.  In fact, it can be downright negative and unproductive.  And you would think that after choosing that kind of response once, twice, a hundred times, I would decide to choose a different one.  You would think.
     When I was younger, I always instinctively prayed to God the Father.  I directed myself toward Him as much as I could.  When I imagined Him, He was vague but BIG.  I probably saw clouds and perhaps a grandfatherly figure but mostly, He was present, all around me.  In the last few years, I have tried to develop more of a relationship with Jesus because, while God is HUGE, Jesus is not.  St Paul tells us He was "a man like us in all things but sin".  I like to imagine myself in Jesus' company and when I do, I am often the Samaritan woman at the well.  I sit there in the heat of the day, bucket in hand and look at Jesus.  I imagine His gaze and His healing presence.  I imagine my life transformed forever.  I sometimes put myself in the place of Mary Magdalene when Jesus stepped in as she was about to be stoned or when she washed Jesus' feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.  I can picture myself sitting at Jesus' feet like Mary but more often, I am Martha, not understanding the importance of the moment.
    I have had a mediocre Lent, not the best and not the worst.  I am ending it appropriately I think--with an understanding that I needed Jesus' sacrifice on Good Friday.  That's tough because I love Him.  But if He had not died in my place, I would never, in a million years, be able to save myself.  I have good intentions but I often cannot deliver.  I have knowledge but I fail to act on it.  I have a desire but don't know the right path and frequently follow the wrong one instead.  The particulars don't matter.  She who is most lost is the one who doesn't know she is lost.   And the simple truth is--I am so in need of a savior that I often can't see how much I need one.  Today though, it is clear.  For that I am grateful and I know it will be a very

HAPPY EASTER.