50th Class Reunion

Recently I attended the 50th Reunion of my high school graduating class. It was a wonderful celebration with nearly half of the living members present, though some were more present than others.

Prior to the actual reunion, we had all been given the opportunity to submit an updated status report on our life. These writings were compiled into a booklet, a copy of which we all received at the banquet and dance. What follows is the summary which I sent in to fill everyone in on the happenings in my life since we graduated 50 years ago.

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Choose Life

"I set before you Life and Death, the Blessing and the Curse. Choose Life then that you may live" (Deut 30:19). This scripture passage has been a guiding light for me over the last 50 years as I've tried to make the most life-giving choice at each opportunity.

Following graduation in 1960, I attended Loras College in Dubuque, Iowa, where I graduated in 1964 with a BA in Philosopy and a Minor in Education. I then continued my education at Mount St Bernard Seminary, completing my studies in 1968 with an MA in Theology and an MS Education from Creighton University.

After ordination to the priesthood, I served for 28 years in various northwest Iowa (Sioux City diocese) schools and parishes. Alongside those ministries, I was gifted with the opportunity to travel to Germany, Africa, India and the Philippines in order to work with diocesan priests developing their spirituality and fostering a supportive community within their dioceses.

My time in the priesthood culminated in 1995-96 when I journeyed to Bolivia to learn Spanish and work as a missionary in the jungles of northern Bolivia. From that distance, I was also able to gain a new perspective on my life and identify a change of focus for my ministry.

The nuanced call to Choose Life came in the form of my soon-to-be wife, Janella, whom I had known and worked with for more than 10 years. We were wed in June, 1996, after returning to the USA. Settling in southern Texas, we ministered jointly through our professions as Nursing Home Administrator and Admissions Coordinator. It was a blessed time during which we were able to assist people through a difficult period in their lives, both as residents and as care-giving families.

In July, 2008, after losing our home in Texas to the flood waters of Hurricane Dolly, we decided that the Lord was calling us to Choose Life back at our origins. So we moved back to Iowa in order to be near our parents and assist them in their final years. What a blessing it has been to be close by, to be a support to them.

We live outside Cherokee, Iowa, where we rent a small acreage beside the Little Sioux River. I work as the Business Manager at the local Ford Dealership -- a perfect "retirement" job. Our lives are simple, peaceful, filled with the joy and love that comes from Choosing Life.

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With that serving as an introduction, I am picking up my blog again by popular request.  I will attempt to add reflections a couple of times each week in the vein of "Idle Ramblings of a Not-So-Idle Mind."  If you have questions or comments, please direct them to me through either my email (address given on my profile) or in the comment section below.

Signs of New Life

Trees and lilac bushes budding out. Robins, red-wing blackbirds, meadow larks and other songbirds singing. Grass beginning to turn green. Rabbits and squirrels chasing their prospective mates around the yard. My Love nurturing her garden seeds in small cups in our office window and waiting anxiously to get her hands in the dirt as she and her sister, Annette, plant their garden together.

All these signs of New Life we celebrated as we gathered on Easter to rejoice in the Resurrection of Jesus. Besides the Risen Life held out to us, we also thanked God for the gift of life of Annette's husband, Jim, who had a birthday on Saturday. In between the delicious food, the marble games, the naps and the laughter, My Love and I reveled again in the blessing of renewing family traditions.

Together with her mother, My Love had enjoyed coloring eggs last week, making up baskets for various neighbors, friends and family members. This tradition was revived from our days together in Texas when the two of them would play together in the kitchen preparing for the Easter feast, something which they again did on Friday and Saturday.

It was even enjoyable to witness the disappointment on niece Rita's face as she came into the home of her Grandparents on Sunday morning to realize that the Easter eggs were not hidden, but out in plain sight. As a college graduate-to-be (next month), she still looked forward to the family tradition of hiding, searching for, and finding the eggs!

All these small celebrations of life and family traditions are nothing as compared to the New Life that this Easter season presents to us in Jesus. Each of these small "resurrections" is but a reminder of the Resurrection of Jesus that is ours to participate in each day as we choose life over death, hope over despair, love over resentment. Truly, He is Risen. So are we!

"Here I Am And Nowhere Else"

This past weekend, My Love and I traveled to Omaha to visit with Marilyn, a member of our morning Bible Study from Idaho, who has been visiting her daughter and family. What a tremendous gift it was to spend time together, to share meals, fun and relaxation.

But the highlight of the weekend was the attendance on Friday evening at the lecture by Mark Gilbert and the ensuing visit to his art exhibit entitled "Here I Am and Nowhere Else" at the Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts on Saturday. Mark Gilbert is a Scottish artist who has worked with the Medical Center at the University of Nebraska-Omaha to complete a collection of sketches, paintings, woodcuts and other pieces, many life-size, of people dealing with illness, dying, healing and birth. This intersection of medicine and art has been an attempt to humanize the struggle that people find themselves in when living through circumstances that very often can be dehumanizing as well as discouraging and disheartening for both patients and their caregivers.

For me, it was a deeply touching and profoundly moving experience. As I viewed the various sketches and paintings, I came to several realizations. First of all, life is very, very fragile. The line between health and sickness can be crossed very suddenly at any age. Life can be turned upside down in a moment, and the best laid plans can be thrown aside with no forewarning. This certainly is a reminder of Who is in Charge of our lives at all times -- and it isn't me!

Secondly, the line between patient and caregiver is very often blurred. We are all caregivers at various times in our lives for others. We are also all in need of care from time to time. Sometimes these two callings overlap at the same time, or even in the same relationship. This is especially difficult for me because I find it much easier to give than to receive. This is partly true because when I am giving, when I am in the role of caregiver, I can at least feel like I am more in control than when I am on the passive, receiving end.

The third insight was the resiliency of people. The paintings and sketches of both patients and caregivers manifested the indomitable spirit that shined through in even the most seemingly hopeless situations. People confronted with terminal illnesses who refused to give up, refused to become their illness, but instead maintained their personhood, their personalities and their perspectives. This strength of spirit was evident in children, young adults and elderly people. In each case, they seemed to rise to the occasion presented by their illness, and even if they died as a result of it, they rose above it, conquered it and survived.

I have come away from this weekend with a greater desire to live life in its fullness each day, and day by day because we never know what tomorrow can bring. If I live life to the fullest today, and each day, then I will never have regrets at some future date. I also will not be plagued with worries about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.

Finally, I find a need to be more gentle with others. Every person that I meet each day is also walking this tightrope between sickness and health, caregiver and patient, victim and survivor. Each one is somewhere on the spectrum of life-death whether he/she realizes it or not. By being more sensitive and gentle, I can afford them the opportunity of engaging their own humanity and living more fully their own journey.

What a blessing and a gift this past weekend has been! To cut through all the "stuff" of everyday life and get to the basics of life and death makes each moment more precious, and each person more valuable. Would that I could remain in this consciousness each day.