Furthermore…

Anthony my teaching partner (”Mr. Anthony”) and I (”Mr. Bill”) had a great time today teaching the Rosary to our class of 5th graders from public schools.  Only a few of them were familiar with it.  He and his wife are involved in making rosaries, and he generously  brought in one for every student, some red, some yellow.  I told the kids that one of those colors is special, and that I’d tell them which color it is and the reason why toward the end of the class.  They seemed to think the special color was red.

Anthony brought in a magnificent Italian wall-sized rosary, which drew ooh’s and aah’s, as they had never seen such a thing.  I brought in a CD of a broadcast quality recitation of the Rosary I had obtained from nearby WBVM-fm (www.spiritfm905.com).

Today being Sunday, I set up the CD to play the Glorious Mysteries for the class.  Coincidentally, at the Mass just proceeding the class there had been a ceremony of dedication of the new Confirmation class for 2010, and part of the ceremony had been renewal of the truths of the Creed, so I explained to the kids how this was significant,  because they for their part would be hearing at the start of the Rosary the Apostles Creed, which contains a lot of the truths we are trying to teach them.  The WBVM Spirit FM production is done as a Scriptural Rosary, with a verse of scripture voiced before each Hail Mary.  I am sure this was new to them, even those who already had some experience with the Rosary.

We prayed and listened to only one decade, and then shut of the player so that we could teach and elaborate on what had just transpired.  I was surprised that even in awhole hour we were not able to bring out everyting we should have liked.

At the last minute I told them how when Our Lady appeared at Lourdes she had a yellow Rosary in her hands.  I expected that on this basis the kids who had selected the red ones would want to turn them back for yellow ones, but nothing like this developed.  I suppose they were just glad that the class had ended and they could go home.

At the time of my retirement I decided to move to Florida.  My small apartment was packed with personal effects along with a copious accumulated clutter.   Luckily I mentioned my plans to the gang at the Tiki Lounge.  One morning as I was busy sorting and packing, my doorbell rang, an unusual occurrence in my loner life.  It was Charlie, one of the guys from the Tiki.  He wanted to see how I was doing with my preparations for the move.  I admitted him and led him up to my apartment.  With what seemed to be a practiced eye he surveyed my situation and declared with certainty that it was more than I could handle.

In the weeks following, every few days he came by and delivered empty beer cases and other boxes for me to use in my packing.  I came to find out that Charlie was the manager of the rummage sale operations at a good-sized local church and, yes, a Godsend.  Besides helping me with the formidable packing challenge he set me up with tables at the church’s big rummage sales so that I could dispose of a fair amount of clutter and put some money in my pocket.

Amazingly,  I could detect no hint of him expecting a quid pro quo for all his gracious and unstinting real life help.  I hadn’t seen many examples of freely offered selfless assistance without strings, but this was certainly one instance (I can say in retrospect).  I didn’t even have to listen to any prayer or witness!

When I was in Army basic training they had a custom of having the men stop on their way into the mess hall and perform a number of chin ups (or pull ups) on a bar.   I don’t remember the rationale for this; maybe it was a case of ‘we’ve always done it that way’.  Probably the Army women don’t do this, as women are not known for having much arm or upper body strength.  Maybe they are required to grimace fiercely a few times.

I mention women because my arm strength was merely womanly, and soft fat me couldn’t do chin ups.  But aha!  There were always a couple of fine lads standing there grasping one’s legs as he struggled to perform the repetitions.  Maybe this was to keep one from swinging back and forth wildly from all the exertion.  They would always perceive that I was not chin up material and would charitably lift from below to help me to draw my face up over the bar, if only to keep the chow line moving.  To me it was Salvation.

One day a keen eyed, driven officer looking about for chinks in the armor somehow saw through this nonsense and had me drop down to do pushups, something else that was not in my repertoire.   He alternatively employed insult, threat and contempt  but soon recognized I was little more than a quivering, unmuscled blob.

A second Salvation appeared in the form of the genteel Executive Officer, who came to my defense pointing out that I was a college graduate with  desirable traits distinct from  physical powesss, and put an end to the ‘chewing out’.

Back when I was in high school in the 50’s a kind of ordinary incident happened to me to which I didn’t attach a whole lot of significance at the time but which I now see in retrospect as one of the times when God helped me without being asked.  It’s not too important to me to maintain that it was really god.  It was manifested through my friends, and I’m quite content to see it as merely human help that came my way. I say this because at this older stage in my life I am convinced that God is behind and within everything, so if I can’t adduce His fingerprints on this little matter, all the same, it was God, see!

Our high school at that time was deep into football and our team was playing teams from all over the country instead of the usual bunch of other local high schools that might be expected.  Teams and supporters were brought in from hither and yon each week.  We even had our own football stadium or a sort that might belong to a college, not a high school.

I don’t remember what team  it was that was bussed in to play us that day; actually I only remember the names of a very few of the teams we played way back then.  On that particular day, for some reason I was carrying along, before the game started, some kind of placard sign on a stick, maybe supporting our team, maybe proclaiming some other message.  As I walked along in front of the stands I encountered a bunch of kids from the other school coming the other way.  High spirited and, I guess, full of fun, they (I think somewhat playfully) grabbed and forced down my placard on a stick  and  put me out of business as a sidewalk advertiser.

Out of nowhere some of my friends came charging out of the stands coming to my defense, setting the visitors back on their heels and turning the tide in favor of our side.  That’s all — no big deal.  It was over, no punches thrown, no blood spilt.  Just an unexpected demonstraton of loyalty and friendship coming to me in a moment of seeming peril.  It warmed my heart, in the cool, unobservable way of teenage boys.

Last year I attended a men’s retreat presented by laymen, and this year I am part of the planning committee for a repeat.  The retreat has an established format, and there are a number of themes on which each year basically similar talks are given, drawing largely on the life experiences and struggles of the staff members.  The themes center on Loving God through Knowing Oneself, through Trust, through Faith in the Word, through the Sacraments, Prayer, Healing of Memories, Trust, and Family and Friends.  I too was appointed to give a short talk.

It wasn’t at first clear to me what kind of talk was expected of me.  Speaking to one of the leaders, I found that it was not necessarily to be on one of the established themes, but rather to just be something drawn from my own life that might touch or be of some import to the attendees.  I thought of relating a couple of Army experiences, one of humiliation and the other, related, of getting some well-appreciated support.  I thought of recounting a few of my failures with women, making a play for pity as one of life’s  losers from all the married  ’salt of the earth’ types I’d be addressing.  Or I could go about how I’m not primarily concerned with the Top Ten for Men of sports,work, wife, kids, dog, house, car, lawn, TV,  and sports [sic].

A few more subjects occurred to me, but I finally decided to talk about three times in my life when other people unexpectedly came to my assistance, times which I might subtly suggest were the work of the Lord.

I watch Catholic television a lot.  I keep seeing an ad or promotion for a book containing some of a beloved and famous person’s teachings about the Bible.  At one point, that person is shown holding the Bible and saying something along the line of  ‘read this book if you want to know what God thinks.’  The book she is referring to is the Bible, it would seem, but since it is an ad or promotion for a particular book that is for sale, viewers might easily conclude that it is the book for sale which is being referenced.  Next, a screen shows how to buy ‘this book.’  Pretty slick!  Or is it merely an unintentional slip?

Yesterday I was fortunate in seeing  on EWTN a new  video announced by Fr. Pavone of Priests for Life.  The part I saw showed closeup in color, in the womb, a live unborn child of 6 weeks development.  Captions and commentary  pointed out to the viewers the tiny brain, the beating heart, the eyes, the hands and feet, and other areas of the developing child as the camera seemed to move about and record the images from different aspects.  A sort of technical chart alongside the picture noted the stage of development and, I believe, other information.

Coincidentally, this morning I reported to the medical offices which serve me for a couple of ultrasound examinations.  As I lay on the examining table and chatted with the gentleman performing the tests I remembered and told him about the amazing video I had seen the night before.  I made a point of mentioning that they did state that it was not an ultrasound, but he could not believe that it would have been anything else but an ultrasound.   I left the offices hoping that he would look further into the nature of the process, if only for professional reasons.  I felt glad to have told someone in a timely manner of what I had witnessed, and I also mentioned that it would be widely distributed by the Pro Life community.

Yesterday a deacon who has been assisting at our parish said his first Mass, after having been ordained the day before. It was especially noteworthy for us because this man had come to the United States from Poland only a few years previously to pursue his vocation.  Many priests, both American and Polish, con celebrated the Mass with him.  His Mom and some other relatives came here from Poland to be present at these important milestones in his life.  The Mass was will attended, and an attractive fourteen page program was distributed to serve as a  worship aid and to be saved as a souvenir.  Afterwards, a luncheon was provided in the church hall, and our new priest gave a special new priest’s blessing to all who stepped forward.

The Knights of Columbus at my parish, Council #5699, which I recently joined, did a good work this morning  by giving out free hotdogs to people gathered at a walkathon event held to raise funds for sending a youth mission to Jamaica and also to provide some funds for the next World Youth Day to be held in Spain in 2011. I heard some of the long time Knights saying that today’s hotdogs, secured from a new (to us) purveyor tasted better than the ones which we  had been getting previously and did, in fact, cost a little less, and can be delivered to us saving the necessity of going to pick them up. The walkers especially, some of whom seemed rather worn out, welcomed the savory sandwiches. A few people, somewhat abashedly, came back for a second  ‘dog, which we gladly gave although the guideline  called for one per person.  A few people asked for hotdogs without a bun, for dietary reasons I imagine. One family asked for hamburgers and would not settle for hotdogs, walking away determinedly. We set out a variety of condiments (which one wag dubbed ‘contaminants’) and, to my surprise, the sweet relish disappeared first.  The makeup of the crowd was skewed toward young folks and so the chopped onions, whick kids usually don’t much like, were less popular.

I was at a prayer meeting earlier this week and I had one of those experiences whereby a sense of unity and clarity comes to the fore, bringing confidence and hope that things which have been at odds and troublesome within now have been integrated. I’ve never had a good sense of spiritual community or communion. Most of my religious awareness, such as it was,  has always been about me myself cultivating the right kind of relationship with God, the Blessed Mother, the angels and the saints.  But this recent weekend I very much more felt like I was in union with the people around me and untold numbers of others not present, in their families and associations as well as in my own.

I had been watchinga number of  TV presentations about St. Padre Pio and I think my mind switched over from its usual way of of seeing everything through my own individual viewpoint and instead seeing me as just a member of a wide communality, similar to the way the Saint was caringly aware of all the needs and trials of the people who cried out to him. As I sat in the prayer group I looked about at the twenty or so other members and saw each one as a partner in a benign awareness of God’s realm.  About the same time a parade of my relatives, friends and acquaintances passed through my mental notice and I quickly prayed or wished well for each one, almost as though I had a rubber stamp or magic wand that made praying for them brisk and efficient.

The frame of mind hasn’t lingered since, although a memory of it persists and my general outlook has changed a little, as I realize that there is a better way of focusing on His Kingdom with a sense of the importance of others, keeping them in the awareness of who is involved.