Free as a Bird?

Wouldn't you like to be free as a bird?

I wonder where that expression came from. As I write this, we are watching one of those BBC nature videos. The erudite voice of some distinguished British gentleman is telling everyone about the glorious life of animals, which basically consists in sleeping, seeking food, mating, and avoiding predators. And it is a wonderful thing, in its own way, the multitude of diverse ways in which animals all over the world -- in all their many colors and shapes and sizes -- use their remarkable instincts to seek food, to mate, and to avoid predators; in a word, to live. But it takes a bit of the romance out of my lonely black bird. There is surely much poetry in his sturdy vigil, perched atop a fence post. All the splendor and spontaneity of his instincts are focused on the task of living. For him it means spying the worm, the grub, tending the nest, avoiding the cat.

But he is not free.

He is bound to this labor. He comes forth from his shell, struggles into flight, searches for food, perpetuates his species without even knowing what he is, searches for more food, and one day dies. But the whole sky is full of birds. Flocks of birds in full flight. They give no thought to their freedom, or their burdens.

It is we who find the image of freedom in their flight.

It is we who are melancholy at the recognition of their passing lives.

The animals, in their unreflected innocence, remind us that the whole world is passing away. And perhaps too, there is an echo in animal life of the sadness at the heart of creation, a sadness that reflects something irretrievably lost.

Yet we do not get caught up in the mourning of this loss. Our gaze upon the natural world and our poetry are full of hope. We yearn for the freedom of the birds. We watch them in flight and we sense the promise of freedom. For the eager longing of creation awaits the revelation of the children of God. There is another mystery at work at the heart of creation, and it whispers in our hearts a restlessness, an expectation, a promise.

The birds will return to the earth and be joined to it. And one day, the earth will be transformed. The mystery of this is hidden from us.

But we will fly. We will be free.

Spring is "Springing"... Sort Of

Well, they are not very peppy, but here they are: forsythias at long last! They are weighted with morning dew here, and there are still spots on the bush that have yet to bloom.

But we're so happy that the month of March has finally come to Virginia. (That's not a mistake; it's a joke.)

Nature is emerging in a cagey way, as if she wants to make sure that this is not another trick. I think we're okay this time. There are even rumors of cherry blossoms coming.

On the Fortieth Day of Christmas, We Finally Took Down the Tree

Very early in the morning, on the LAST day of Christmas, February 2, 2013

When I woke up very early in the morning, as I usually do, I went out into the living room to see the glorious lights glowing one last time. And Mary and Joseph, the manger, the baby Jesus, the wise men spreading out their humble court one last time on the top of the entertainment center (note: that is not an HDTV; that's a flat screen dinosaur from the "aughts" [i.e. 2000s]...true poverty, American style).

I looked wistfully at the ornaments. Some go back to my own childhood and even before. Some are quite fancy, but my favorites are the one with the bride and groom that says "First Christmas, 1996" and the various home made ornaments given to us as gifts by the children when they were very small. I noticed that the star that I made for the top years ago was leaning to one side. It was beginning to fall apart at last. Even durable tape has its limits.

Ah, but the wonders of an artificial tree! It doesn't shed, it doesn't need water, it doesn't die. You can keep it up through January, and then disassemble it and put it in a box and store it away until next year. The human race has lost the tree of paradise, and the trees of this earth must die. The best we can accomplish with all of our arts is an imitation, a plastic copy that does not die because it was never alive.

Yeah yeah, sure. But it works. Its hypoallergenic. It looks good. Its fireproof. What the heck, we use electric lights on it anyway. Stop being such a philosophical grump, JJ. Its our Christmas tree. We love it.

And it has lit up the dark mornings of the whole month of January. A forty day Christmas season helps prevent Seasonal Affective Disorder. And it gives a maximum of procrastination time for getting out those Christmas cards! (Those "what"? What is a Christmas "card"? Haha, obviously we didn't send any....)

Its good to let things last. Christmas is not just a big-bash-and-then-its-over. The light has come into the world. The light shines in the darkness. And He is, as Simeon reminds us again on Candlemas day, "the light of revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel" (Luke 2:32).

Now, everything is boxed up and put away. Our house is ready for Lent, which begins in less than two weeks. But the desert is not gloomy, because Jesus is there.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5).

Walking in the Afternoon

The sun is shining. The air is warm.

There is goodness.

Goodness will endure.

The storm and show of evil is not the final word.

All the clatter that shakes our thoughts

will not be silenced by a better idea.

Our hope is that hope has an answer

that whispers like the still small voice.

Here Comes Another ZERO!

I know, its coming up. The "milestone" day.

January 2, 2013.

Of course I've been thinking about it. Its an odd situation for me. I'm still very much a kid at heart. Indeed, I am "like a child" but not so much in the way Jesus had in mind. There is Christian joy and hope in me. I can't deny that; its a gift from Him. But there is also a lot of emotional immaturity. A lot of plain foolishness. Yes, its a mixed bag, again.

"Master, you gave me ten talents. I was so afraid that I buried five of them right away. But then I saw the other guys going to invest in the bank, and I followed them. I invested three. Then I took the other two and went shopping...." (see the parable in Matthew 25:14-30).

Age is also a funny thing for a college professor who has spent his life among young students, younger teachers getting started, experienced colleagues who are his own age, and the older generation of still very active teachers and scholars. The learning experience builds bonds of friendship between generations. In the pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty, we are all children. The "fountain of youth" is wonder.

Then, for me, "middle age" has been twisted all around by the fluctuations of my health. I feel much, much better right now than I have in the past. I have been down to the dark places of the earth, and have been brought back up. My aspirations have been simplified. I am grateful for the amazing gift of being alive.

I am alive, outwardly and inwardly. Thank God!

I must accept that I have constraints and limits, but this is helping me to focus on engaging what is in front of me right now, risking the capacities and the talents that I do have to respond to the real vocation of life in the present moment.

I also know that there is weakness. There is failure. I must not let it discourage me. I must trust in the mercy of God, and receive His forgiveness. Then I must begin again when necessary, repair what has been broken, and always keep struggling to do the good and to build up what is good.

And we are all in this present moment together. It challenges us to help one another, to understand one another, to forgive one another, and to give ourselves. Give. Dear Jesus, please heal me and free me, please enable me to love!

I know its just stumbling, in the end. My life expresses itself in the gestures of a hungry man begging for food; and even more than food, begging for truth and meaning, begging for goodness and beauty, begging for love.

And I shall keep stumbling and begging, because I can see the merciful Father running toward me with His arms held open.

Time Flying? Not So Much.

Most of the trees are bare now,
but the weather has been brisk!

Its November 18 already. The month is flying by. Some people say the year has flown by, but it doesn't seem that way to me. So much has happened this year! I read back over the old blogs and I think to myself, "that was a long time ago."

We've got our top two growing teenagers, and the middle girls changing too, and even Josefina has gained like three pounds since January! (Haha...although that may be about right. She is still so hilariously little, but they've done tests and nothing is wrong with her. She certainly has plenty of brains and energy.)

Teresa's mind is growing in new ways. She has discovered that Daddy actually has some interesting things to say. She has started to shoot questions at me, with the full awareness that she's going to get long answers.

Meanwhile, as we go along with our busy days, the world makes its orbit, and the Church lives another liturgical year. We've had trips, and hurricanes, and the Washington Nationals (who saw that coming?), and Agnese joining John Paul at Chelsea Academy, and Eileen's work at the Montessori school (and me being well enough to be with her each day and make a contribution). We've had celebrations, and new friends, and discussions about so many things, and politics and an election, and hand wringing about the future, and lots of prayers, and the Year of Faith, and the synod on the "New Evangelization," and our bishops taking an inspiring and courageous stand--together.

On this last point, people shouldn't think that "the Church lost." Something grew this year, something small perhaps, but important nonetheless. It is a deepening of awareness of what it means to live our faith as citizens of this country. Catholics and other Christians too are starting to be pushed closer together in a way that forces us to talk to each other and, even, to disagree (although some disagreements are more constructive than others).

As this push continues and we find ourselves stuck with one another, we may discover that we are brothers and sisters, and that we have something unique to give to the world.

Well, this post is "stream of consciousness." Its early in the morning, and we're going to Mass now.

Sunday is always a beautiful day. Have a blessed Sunday!