Sunday, December 13, 2009

Hurtling toward Christmas

The next two weeks will be quite busy for me. I have...
  • A major deadline at work on Christmas Eve
  • A party at our home next Saturday
  • Several volunteer commitments, including meetings, fundraising recruiting for Honduras, etc.
  • At least one or two parties to attend
  • Oh, and pretty much all of my Christmas shopping yet to do.
So perhaps I can be forgiven for succumbing to briefly hyperventilating every once in a while.

But when I finally stop for a moment or two and think, really think about how I'm going to do what I need to do, I realize that I can't do it. At least not by myself. I have to stop and unburden myself and let God take over, because otherwise this is not going to end well.

So earlier today I read the readings for Mass, and the second reading reading really spoke to me where I am and have been:

The Lord is near.
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
Yes, the Lord is near. But I have not been present enough to the Lord, and so my burdens weigh me down. But it is a new week ahead, full of new possibilities, challenges and opportunities -- and a chance to scratch a few things off my list. Yet the thing I need to do most -- and I need to do it every day -- is "by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make (my) requests known to God".

This week I will make a special effort to make time for God, to be quiet for a little while and find me true center, the place where God abides within me and answers the prayers and petitions of my heart.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Take me by the hand

I am starting to stress out.

There is a lot going on, between work, my professional volunteer work, and my parish volunteer work...not to mention Christmas. Then there is the Honduras trip. Starting the process with only four months to do everything is starting to feel like quite a challenge. There have been a couple of times already when I started thinking about what needs to be done and figured out and I could just feel my heart rate picking up.

A few weeks ago I did a witness talk at Mass that touched on my experience in Honduras last year, about how there were days during the planning stage then that I was similarly anxious. Also how during the trip I was so overwhelmed by all that was happening and the decisions that needed to be made. I talked about how at those times I could truly feel God coming and taking hold of my hand and leading me through it.

And so I should not be surprised that when I read the readings for today, right after I was stressing about the trip, here is the first thing I read from Isaiah:

"I am the LORD, your God,
who grasp your right hand;
It is I who say to you, “Fear not,
I will help you.”
So often this is how I feel the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life, that when I look to him for help, God sets before me the exact words, the very person, or precisely the resources I need when I truly need them. After this has happened to me so many times, it puzzles me how I can ever forget it.

And yet I do. Which is why I keep a (growing) collection of quotes and books at my desk to remind me, including the Prayer of St. Teresa, my favorite quote from Jeremiah 29:11-14, and a little section from the Golden Counsels of St. Francis de Sales:

Do not think about what will happen tomorrow, for the same eternal Father who takes care of you today will look out for you tomorrow and always. Either he will keep you from evil or he will give you invincible courage to endure it.
So once again I feel God taking me by the hand, and that is a comforting feeling indeed.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Returning to Honduras

After much thought and prayer I have decided to lead another trip to Honduras March 20-28, 2010. You can learn more about the trip at my Global Village Website . You can also read accounts of last year's trip here (hit 'Newer Posts' after each post). I welcome anyone interested in joining the trip -- just shoot me an email with your contact info via this site. And if you can't make the trip, please make a donation of any amount to support the team. You can donate online here.

There is far less time to recruit members and raise money than there was last year, and I confess that I'm a little antsy about being able to pull it off in time. But every time I start feeling anxious I remember the Lord called me to do this, and through the Lord I will find a way.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Discipline

Back in March, I wrote about the impending change in priestly leadership at my parish of St. Paul the Apostle, from the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales to priests of the Diocese of Charlotte. As I wrote then:

It is an emotional time of transition, and one of fear and anxiety for some, as we have not faced a change like this in a long time. The parish has been staffed by order priests for its first 35 years, first the Paulists, then the Oblates. This is a step into the unknown.
At the time I quoted Jeremiah ("Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose hope is the LORD...") as I firmly believed the hand of God was shaping the course of events in our parish life, and that our prayer for vibrant new leadership would be answered. I had already noted a change in the parish as if in anticipation of what was to come:

Our parish has been through a lot over the past ten years, including the removal of a beloved pastor due to accusations of sexual abuse and a severe financial crisis. I don't need to recount all the particulars, as they are all part of a past we can't change. Over that time we watched our numbers wither by a quarter or even a third.

But we have also watched a miracle take hold. Our finances bounced back, and in spite of the strains of the recession are still better than they were. Our numbers have bounced back. There is a renewed sense of who we are as a community, and the role we play in the larger community of Greensboro.

As so often happens when we trust the Lord, our trials have become a beautiful gift. Because I believe we now see that our faith community at St. Paul's is much more than our priestly leadership, more than the homily on Sunday or even the Mass itself. We are here for each other, and we are here for others we don't even know -- the homeless who stay in our church as part of the Greensboro Interfaith Hospitality Network, the Muslim family whose house we helped build through Habitat for Humanity and the people whose houses we'll work on in Honduras, the people of our sister parish in Ecuador, and the people who come through our doors every day to find help to get through these hard times.
We are now about two weeks into the new "administration", and I can honestly say that I couldn't be more delighted. Fr. John Allen and Fr. Benjamin Roberts have already injected new and positive energy through their wonderful interpersonal and communication skills as well as their great love and reverence for the celebration of the Eucharist. I myself feel renewed in my faith after feeling for such a long time like I was struggling to put one foot in front of the other in my parish life. I am now filled with optimism and hope -- and gratitude.

Which leads me to yet another personal Emmaus moment, one that perhaps my fellow parishioners share. Looking back, and seeing for the first time the new possibilities that lie ahead, I feel as if our community at St. Paul's was being disciplined, in the sense of training as opposed to punishment, for even greater service to God and our community through our trials the last few years. St. Paul himself uses the same imagery, of both the training of a runner and the discipline of a son by his father, in Hebrews 12:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith. For the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross, despising its shame, and has taken his seat at the right of the throne of God. Consider how he endured such opposition from sinners, in order that you may not grow weary and lose heart. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood. You have also forgotten the exhortation addressed to you as sons:
"My son, do not disdain the discipline of the Lord or lose heart when reproved by him;for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he acknowledges."
Endure your trials as "discipline"; God treats you as sons. For what "son" is there whom his father does not discipline?...At the time, all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.
Through the love and grace of Jesus Christ, and by the power of prayer in His name, our trials and frustrations, our hurts and failures, are being transformed into new life in our parish. Hallelujah!

Thoughtful Article on Honduras

I continue to follow events in Honduras with interest and some anxiety. There was a very thoughtful op-ed piece in yesterday's Wall Street Journal on the situation there, the basic thrust of which was that what is being termed the "interim government" is in fact legitimate under the Honduran constitution:

In the three weeks since the Honduran Congress moved to defend the country's constitution by relieving Mr. Zelaya of his presidential duties, it has become clear that his arrest was both lawful and a necessary precaution against violence.

Mr. Zelaya was trying to use mob rule to undermine Honduras's institutions in much the same way that Mr. Chávez has done in Venezuela. But as Washington lawyer Miguel Estrada pointed out in the Los Angeles Times on July 10, Mr. Zelaya's actions were expressly forbidden by the Honduran constitution.

"Article 239," Mr. Estrada noted, "specifically states that any president who so much as proposes the permissibility of reelection 'shall cease forthwith' in his duties, and Article 4 provides that any 'infraction' of the succession rules constitutes treason." Congress had little choice but to take its next step. It convened "immediately after Zelaya's arrest," Mr. Estrada wrote, "condemning his illegal conduct, and overwhelmingly voting (122-6) to remove him from office."

I am not a scholar of the U.S. Constitution, much less the Honduran one, but that seems fairly clear to me. I'm concerned that our government's role in encouraging Senor Zelaya's return to power is ultimately counter-productive and on the wrong side of Honduran law.

But my primary concern is and continues to be the safety and well being of those we met and worked with there, as well as all the Honduran people. It's still tense and scary, and could easily go downhill, especially with Senor Zelaya's remarks encouraging insurrection as a possible solution. Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that a diplomatic solution will be found.

Meantime Habitat Honduras is in limbo, as are any plans for mission trips for next year. It certainly adds an element of uncertainty to my own discernment of whether to lead another trip. As usual, I guess I'll have to let God sort this one out...

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Encouragement

Every once in a while, one of the daily Scripture readings speaks to me deeply and in a way I need to capture and save as a reminder. In straightening up my office this morning, I came across one from 2 Cor 1: 3-7 that I had printed from June 8:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and God of all encouragement,
who encourages us in our every affliction, so that we may be able to encourage those who are in any affliction with the encouragement with which we ourselves are encouraged by God.
For as Christ's sufferings overflow to us, so through Christ does our encouragement also overflow.
If we are afflicted, it is for your encouragement and salvation; if we are encouraged, it is for your encouragement, which enables you to endure the same sufferings that we suffer.
Our hope for you is firm, for we know that as you share in the sufferings, you also share in the encouragement.
Encouragement is such an important part of Christian life, and never more so than now during these times of economic upheaval. As Christians, our faith life can only grow and prosper in community with other Christians, because we need encouragement. And even more so, we need to give encouragement to others and exhort each other to persevere when our lives are difficult and our faith is tested.

I personally have been encouraged by many people, including a number of you readers of these musings. Lately I have also been encouraged by something new I have noticed in both my business and personal life: a sense and a realization I see in many people that we are all in this together. When times are good, it's easy to believe that our own good fortune is the result of our own efforts rather than the gift that it truly is. But in times of distress and uncertainty, we really start to see things more clearly -- that we are dependent first on God, and through God we are dependent on others for every good thing we receive.

In my work, I often talk to people who have lost their jobs. I believe it is so important to help and encourage others in this position -- not only is it the Christian thing to do, it's just good for everybody. And even if I don't have a lead on a job, I try to keep them in mind as openings come across my desk, and at minimum try to encourage them.

I say this not to make myself out to be some hero or saint; this is also good business. But in talking with these people, they tell me others are encouraging them too. People are taking the time to listen and network and re-connect, where maybe before they would not have taken the time.

It's the same in our business development efforts for my company. Those of you that have done business development know how hard and discouraging and fruitless it is much of the time. It's a numbers game, and for every piece of work you win there are a hundred rejections. And yet now what I'm seeing is a new level of compassion and connectedness among the people I talk to.

One of my partners and I have been trying to use LinkedIn to reconnect with everyone we've ever worked with in hopes of getting work. It's become a running joke between us that almost every time we contact someone, they say the same thing in exactly the same way: "Thanks for reaching out to me." It's uncanny, but this little phrase reinforces just how important our human connections are. In "reaching out" to them I have actually encouraged them and made them feel valued, and in acknowledging that gift they have in fact returned the favor.

We may look back on this recession as a very important gift. I spent time with my good friend Don Lahey over a glass or three of French wine last night, and we talked a little bit about hard times and setbacks in our lives. In the moment, and while these unfortunate things are happening to us, they seem absolutely, 100% bad. Yet haven't you ever looked back on something painful that happened to you, and realized that without that painful event, something else beautiful and important in your life could not have occurred? That in fact, the positive event was a direct result of the negative? We are very poor judges of the goodness or badness of particular times in our lives. The same warning that Jesus gives about judging other people could apply just as well to judging the events in our lives.

I believe we are going to come out of this tough time in a much better place than where we started. I don't know if that will be next month, next quarter, or next year. Through this affliction God is encouraging us. He loves us so very much, more than any of us can grasp. And so I want to encourage each of you, no matter how good or bad your personal situation may be right now, to keep your chin up and your eyes open to the good that God is bringing forth out of these dark times.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Political Situation in Honduras

Having returned just over three months ago from Honduras, I have been trying to stay abreast of the political situation there after the ouster of (former) President Jose Manuel Zelaya on June 28. By most accounts Senor Zelaya was not exactly a paragon of virtue -- reportedly a corrupt and left-leaning disciple (or puppet) of Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. He had defied the country's Supreme Court in attempting to go ahead with an illegal referendum to change the constitution so that -- surprise! -- he could stay in power.

That said, it's not exactly clear that the way he was removed from office was by the books either, and it certainly harkened back to the banana republic days of military coups. So I'm not at all clear who to cheer for in this mess, I just keep following events and praying this gets resolved without violence. Apparently one person has been killed, but considering how tense the situation is, I suppose it could be a lot worse. Senor Zelaya should certainly be thankful he is not the lone fatality.

Apparently the Honduran population is split over the situation too, though somewhat more favor the ouster of Senor Zelaya. The Wall Street Journal reports this morning that:

...Honduran media published a CID-Gallup poll that showed 41% of Hondurans said the coup was justified, while 28% were opposed. The survey, conducted between June 30 and July 4, supported anecdotal evidence of anger at Mr. Zelaya. While thousands of Hondurans take to the streets almost daily to protest the ouster, larger crowds often demonstrate in favor of the coup.

"Society is very polarized. We have reached levels of hatred I've never seen before," said Edmundo Orellana, a congressman who formerly served as Mr. Zelaya's defense minister. Mr. Orellana resigned the military position days before the coup because he believed Mr. Zelaya was breaking the law. But in a letter to the congress, he also said Mr. Zelaya's ouster was illegal and that he would refuse to take his legislative seat until Mr. Zelaya was reinstated.



Associated Press
Supporters of ousted Honduran President Manuel Zelaya gather at a roadblock protest on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa on Thursday. Officials began talks on the political future of the country.


At the same time it is very strange to think that all the fine people we worked with in March are living through this tense and scary time. Are they choosing sides? Is this situation a source of division among them? It pains me to think of it. I pray that they are safe and remain that way.

I recently received an email from Margaret Rubiera, who had spoken with the country director for Habitat Honduras. Things are indeed tense, he reports. The provisional government is apparently restricting and filtering the news. There were three Habitat build teams working in Honduras, and all three had to leave. According to Margaret:

"For the moment, of course, no groups are going, and the work that Habitat can do is also very limited. It is an unnerving and very troubling time for the country. I wish I thought there were an easy and clear solution, but there is none. Zelaya was a corrupt, manipulative president and was following way too closely in the footsteps of Chavez of Venezuela. Still, the way that they deposed and evicted him has left everyone up in arms. The military is now breaking up demonstrations with force and the police are arresting a large number of people without justifiable cause. It especially breaks my heart to think of the economic sanctions being placed on that country. We must pray that a viable solution will be found soon. Alberto said that his biggest concern now is for the safety of all Habitat employees. He is not allowing anyone to go out “in the field” to check on local affiliates for fear of violence and problems on the roads. Some funding has been cut off and they fear more financial repercussions. There are rigid curfews in place, which were changed yesterday without warning from 10 pm to 6:30 pm. That is affecting workers all over the country. Stores and banks have been closing extra early to avoid problems with the variable curfew issue.

That must have been more than a little scary for those teams, but thankfully they are all fine. I'm not sure the same can be said for Habitat and for prospective homeowners. At minimum, their work is now suspended indefinitely, but if this drags on I fear Habitat will be hurt badly in Honduras. Right now I have no idea if or how current events will affect trips being planned for early 2010.

At least the two sides have started talks, even if they both seem intransigent. Again from the WSJ:

Ousted Honduran President Manuel Zelaya and the men who kicked him out of power nearly two weeks ago began mediated talks Thursday in a bid to end the Central American country's biggest political crisis in decades.

Even as negotiations over the future of Honduras's government began in Costa Rica, however, hopes were dim for a quick solution. Mr. Zelaya has said the only solution is his return to power, while Roberto Micheletti, the man who replaced him as president, says everything can be discussed except Mr. Zelaya's return as president.

The talks will test the diplomatic skills of mediator Óscar Arias, Costa Rica's president, who won the 1987 Nobel Peace Prize for his contributions to ending civil wars in the region.

For now I ask you all to pray for a peaceful end to this crisis, and the rapid resumption of Habitat's work in Honduras.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Restless

It's late Monday afternoon, and I have been at our cabin in Ashe County since last Thursday. For weeks we had planned to spend the weekend of July 4th here with my brother and his family, since it's normally the start of blueberry season and there's a lot going on. I arrived early so I'd have some time to myself, and planned to stay through the following Wednesday. That way I'd have a couple of days of solitude on the back end too.

Needless to say, things have not worked out as I imagined. Not in a bad way, mind you -- it's been a nice weekend, especially spending time with my nieces, Catherine and Grace. It seemed like a lot happened during the day work-wise on Thursday, then Steve arrived with the girls Thursday night. Pat and Sarah arrived early Friday, and we were off to the races. Dinners on the deck, the Christmas in July festival in West Jefferson, fishing, blueberry picking, wine drinking, and a lot of good eats. Dan arrived Saturday, fresh from a mission trip to Jamaica with Jesse and Hunter. The weather was great (till Sunday) -- low 50s at night and right about 70 during the day. Not bad for July in North Carolina.

Yesterday was more mellow, since we had off-and-on rain, and then Steve, Sarah and the girls left to return to The Real World. Another mellow, rainy morning today, and then Pat & Dan left. So today I finally got the solitude I thought I came here for.

It rained again, off and on, until early afternoon, and it was foggy until a few hours ago. It's always quiet here, but when it's foggy and overcast (or snowy), it's silent. No matter how many times I've been up here by myself, it's still a little unnerving for it to be so quiet.

And so I have been restless all day. I've had things to do for work, and a few things to do around here, but basically I've mostly been lost, kind of confused. I'd think of something I needed to do, maybe something involving tools, go down to the storage room to get what I needed...then stand there asking myself, what did I come in here for? I've just not been able to settle down and concentrate all day.

A week or so ago I thought I wanted time up here to be alone and have quiet time to pray without interruption. Now I had that time, and I couldn't settle down. I'd think about praying and then get distracted by some other thought or activity, and prayer would go out the window. I have spent the day being called gently by God to spend some quiet time, and I have been running away.

The sun finally came out a while ago and dried the furniture on the deck. It's not really sunny, but there are peeks of sun in between the clouds and it hasn't rained in a while. I finally stopped running away, and sat down on the glider, which is my favorite Prayer Chair. I closed my eyes and tried to pray. Then Moose wouldn't settle down - he'd pace around then finally lie down, then two minutes later he'd walk over to another place and lay down. Then the "chattering monkeys" that Henri Nouwen writes about started up -- you know, all the thoughts, to do lists, people, and things that spring to mind as soon as you still yourself. This has been the story for the last three months -- when I finally made the time to pray, I couldn't bring myself to truly connect.

But this time I was determined. This time I was not going to run away from the Lord, I was going to run away from the monkeys, and before long I felt the first peace I'd had all day. Maybe I should try this more often...

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Insight

My posts of late have been few and far between, though I have occasionally written to explain some of the reasons for my lack of inspiration. There have been glimmers of re-awakening, occasional showers to relieve my drought, and I have tried my best to soldier on as best I could. But the writing did not come, or at least did not come easily.

I have tried to understand what was happening to me and why. I have tried to pray, and for the most part just try to listen without an agenda as Fr. Louie had directed. But mostly I just tried to be open to what God was trying to do through me, even though I often felt lost and disoriented spiritually. But in the past week or so I have been reminded of reading that when asking hard questions, especially spiritual ones, you don't really "get" an answer. Instead, little by little, even without knowing it, you grow into the answer.

And so I have gradually grown into what turns out to be two answers. The first is simple, as I might have known it would be, and the insight lies within the proverb "absence makes the heart grow fonder." All the time I felt removed from Christ I also felt such a longing for reunion. I had taken his constant felt presence for granted. But I think the insight and the lesson is that this time has made me realize, on an emotional rather than intellectual level (since I so often live in my head rather than my heart), just how much I really love Jesus Christ. That love has been there, certainly, and has even grown over time, but it took this time away for it to penetrate my thick head and stony heart.

Which leads me to insight #2. All this time I have been trying to untie this Gordian knot all by myself -- just mano a mano with The Big Guy. And all this time I have been surrounded by loving and generous friends and family members who would gladly help me if I had only reached out. As I have often read, Christianity is a faith that can only be practiced in community. That is so that we can help, encourage, and admonish each other, especially during the rough patches.

Lucky for me, others including some of you, dear readers, have encouraged me. Three people have recently asked me about this blog, noting my lack of posts and telling me how much they got out of it. Then I got this via email yesterday which I share in part, anonymously...

...I too have experienced times of spiritual drought and find it so hard to pray while in them. Often the best I can do is simply pray, “O Sacred Heart of Jesus, help me place my trust in you” and “Remove from me my stony heart and fill me with a heart burning with the fires of your divine love.” I have been in that place for the past couple of weeks ....I know that this time will pass and my heart will once more feel the flame of Christ’s love and I sometimes think God does this just so that we truly appreciate it when the drought has passed and the rain once again begins to fall.

I hope to see you and Pat tomorrow night ... I also hope to find the time to read your blog more often and to listen to God speaking to me through you. It is truly a gift for which I am so grateful. Thank you dear friend!

With that kind of encouragement, how can I not write?

So thanks to all of you who have hung in there with me and encouraged me. I think I'll be writing more from here on out...


Friday, June 5, 2009

Honduras Update + Plans for Next Year

At the conclusion of our Habitat build trip to Honduras, I thought we might have some funds left over from our trip expenses to donate to Habitat Honduras, Hogar de Niñas, and Sisters of Charity orphanage. Alas, Lisa has let me know that for all intents and purposes there is nothing left to send. The stash of lempira I brought back apparently will become pocket money for the next leader. Fortunately the Greensboro Catholic Partnership (which spwned our trip in the first place) had already sent nearly $5000 as part of its tithing commitment.

The good news is that members of the team responded to the call for donations for Hogar de Niñas with some very nice contributions. Additionally Habitat had some funds from a prior trip to add, and we ended up sending $6,600 to Sr. Dimora Lopez for the girls (h/t to Miguel Rubiera for being our courier and braving a 7.1 magnitude earthquake to deliver the money!). Surely it is a godsend for them to get that much unrestricted cash. She had hoped to hire a full-time custodian, which cost about $4500 per year, so she’s got enough to hire one now. Thank you all for your generosity!
Several team expressed interest in going back next year, and expressed interest in me leading again. I am trying to discern with the help of the Holy Spirit whether leading a trip in 2010 is what I’m being called to do. I have had discussions with Habitat Greensboro, Global Village and Margaret Rubiera of Habitat Durham about dates and locations, and things seem a little murky right now.
By early 2010, the development we helped build, called Shimishal, will be built out. The Habitat affiliate in Santa Rosa does not have another large piece of land, so it looks like from here on out they will be building on infill lots through the city. What that means for future Santa Rosa teams is that they will have to split up each day and go to different sites.
The one set of dates I tried to reserve was March 5-14, which lines up with spring break for most NC colleges. Obviously we were fortunate to have Claire and Megan and Dan, and they were brave to skip a week of school. It would be a lot easier to attract college students with spring break dates. Unfortunately Durham already had those dates locked up for Santa Rosa.


So the choices are – lead a trip to Santa Rosa at some other time, lead a trip to a different location at spring break time, or possibly join the Durham trip as a team member. I also understand that Gerard plans to lead a trip to La Ceiba in January, so that is another option. My heart is pulling me to Santa Rosa (I made a promise, after all), but my head is telling me we won’t be building there forever, maybe it’s time to move on. It’s a stalemate I will leave to the Holy Spirit to break. I’ll know by the end of July, and you will know soon after.

That said, and knowing that the Holy Spirit often works through others, I would welcome your thoughts, opinions and encouragement in trying to discern which way to go.

Friday, May 22, 2009

River of Life

Last evening I went fishing for the first time this year. Normally by the end of May I would have gone a number of times, so this is highly unusual, though not inconsistent with my spiritual drought. For me there is a strong connection between fishing and spirituality. The act of fishing, the setting, the water itself, and the physical touching of these rarely-seen creatures all contribute to an immensely healing and nourishing experience. I have missed fishing more than I realized.

I am writing from our cabin in Ashe County, NC, so the easiest place to wet a line from here is in the South Fork of the New River, which is reputed to be the second oldest river on Earth after the Nile. The drought of the last two years has been hard on the river. At one point last summer it had dwindled to a fraction of its normal flow, and the water was so shallow that some kind of river-weed grew and almost choked whole stretches. It was too low to float, too low to fish, and kind of sad to behold.

But this spring the rains have been bountiful, and for the first time in two years all of western NC is out of drought. It's been six weeks since we've been up here, and it is incredible the feeling of life everywhere -- it's hard to adequately describe how green everything is. But the effect of the spring rains on the river is most impressive. All but the biggest rocks are covered, and water runs from bank to bank with an energy and vibrancy I'd forgotten. The water is not as clear as it was during the drought, but clear enough to be pretty.

As I parked my car along Cox Road, I could feel the moist cool air and hear the low murmur of the river as I looked for a place to begin. The place I selected was not the one I had in mind when I left the cabin, but it seemed inviting. Why not try a few casts there? I tossed a gold Panther Martin spinner out in the current and reeled it back slowly. On the second cast, I hooked up with a small but feisty redeye bass -- they have the body of a bream and the head of a smallmouth bass, with blood-red eyes.

I thanked God for this fish. It has been my practice for some time now to offer thanks for the first fish I catch, because that first fish means that today I will not be skunked. Each fish is a gift, and even the little ones are fun. This one struck like a ton of bricks, and it wasn't until I had him almost all the way in that I realized he was only maybe eight inches long.

I can still remember the first time it occurred to me to give thanks in that special moment after the first catch. I was standing in the middle of Helton Creek on a chilly morning, having just caught a nice trout. Remembering that St. Peter was a fisherman, I also recalled how the Lord after His resurrection had directed Peter and the other disciples (who had been skunked the previous night) to cast their net over the right side of the boat, and how they caught 153 large fish. Right in the middle of the creek I said a prayer of thanks, and have been doing it ever since. Interestingly I can count on one hand the number of times since then that I've been skunked.

Fishing reconnects me to both the earth and to God in a mysterious way. Part of it is that all my thoughts and cares seem to travel down the line into the water, where they dissipate harmlessly. My mind is amazingly blank when I fish -- somehow the low-intensity thought process of fishing expands to fill my brain pan. Once my mind is no longer preoccupied with worry and care, my senses are filled by visual beauty, gentle sounds, earthy smells and the tactile sense of the rod in my hand and the earth under my feet. The rod becomes a living thing, or like a divining rod telling me where the fish are. After a hookup, the rod is electric with the connection between me and the fish and the unique vibrations of a fish on the line.

Moving on from my first spot, I got another strong strike and a solid hookup. Playing the fish in the current, I could tell this one was bigger. What kind of fish would it be? That's part of the mystery, especially in the river. Would it be another redeye, or maybe a smallmouth, or even a nice trout? Though "officially" there are no trout in the South Fork, you do catch them occasionally -- either refugees from a trout-water tributary or perhaps one that just lives in a deep dark pool near a chilly spring in the bottom of the river.

Alas, this one was a hornyhead. The first time I caught a hornyhead it was alarming, because these chubs can get to be a pound or so, and they look like some kind of radioactive mutant with their spiky bump on the forehead. They will also talk to you sometimes, like catfish will, with a deep throaty er-er-er sound. This was a fine specimen, as hornyheads go, and he put up a noble fight. I threw him back, as I did with all the fish I caught this day.

Normally I don't count how many fish I catch. In fact I intentionally try to forget. that way it gives you lots of honest leeway when conveying to friends and family how you did that day. You can say, "quite a few" or "ten or twelve" or "it must have been about twenty, but I wasn't counting", and you'll be covered. Because you really don't know. But last night I caught five -- two redeye bass, two bream, and Mr. Hornyhead.

By this time the shadows stretched all the way across the river, and the evening quiet had descended upon this beautiful valley like a blessing. Where the sun still shone it looked clean and warm and golden, the sky was clear and blue. Dinner on the deck with Pat beckoned, along with a nice bottle of wine, so I clambered up the bank and walked toward my car. My thanks to God had returned as a blessing.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Spiritual Dryness

I see that it has been three weeks exactly since my last post, so I apologize to any of you who may have checked in on Emmaus Road during that time. My lack of writing seems to be an accurate reflection of my spiritual state of mind and heart during that time, as it seems like a bit of a spiritual drought.

Looking back I can see now how completely I emptied my tank in Honduras and the week or so afterward. I even described it to Jesse as "mission fatigue". The last straw was my frustrated attempt to establish dates for another trip to Honduras in 2010. I will just say that Habitat has not made it easy, and I'll leave it at that. And so by the end of April my spiritual resources had run dry, and I was at a loss as to how to replenish them.

It was not for lack of trying that the drought continued. I prayed and celebrated the Eucharist as usual, and even went on retreat with the Men's Group the last weekend of April. The retreat was a great experience and a good soaking rain, to stay with the meteorological metaphor. But it did not break the drought.

As I was leaving the retreat, I had a brief conversation with Fr. Louie, wherein I shared my experiences and frustrations with Habitat. I did not and still do not know whether God is calling me to lead another mission there, or whether these frustrations meant that it was time to move on. He sized me up in an instant, as he has an uncanny way of doing, and told me to spend time praying with no agenda -- to listen.

And so I have, yet for all my attempts at listening I still had no answers. It was not as if I received nothing -- even in a drought it rains sometimes, just not enough. I was feeling dead inside, not depressed or angry or even frustrated, just kind of dead. I could sometimes make a connection to God but I could not maintain it or achieve it reliably.

At the same time I became acutely aware of the rapid passage of time. I've actually had some very good experiences in that period. All three sons and Hunter were here for dinner on Mother's Day (Emily was with her family), which is a rare and blessed event, yet it was like an instant. Work has been good, and I have enjoyed the spring weather, planting a garden and working in the yard. Yet each day seemed like just a heartbeat.

I am not one to pine over such things or about growing older. I know that this sense of the rapid progression of time is probably part of getting older, and I accept that. But as I lay awake waiting for sleep, I have longed in a new way for the day when I finally see Christ's face, with the feeling that the faster time slides by the sooner that day will come.

Don't get me wrong, this is not some morose death wish kind of feeling. It is nothing but positive and uplifting, a new and more sure footing for my faith that one day I will be united with Christ. And that is new, and really kind of remarkable in the context of the "drought".

Saints and spiritual writers like St. Francis de Sales and Henri Nouwen have spoken about spiritual "dryness" and "aridity", and it's interesting that they choose the same metaphor. Mother Theresa went for more than fifty years without feeling the presence of God, even in the Eucharist, and still held tightly to her faith (now that's a drought!). Some have called this "the dark night of the soul", though that would be a somewhat melodramatic and overwrought description for my situation. Still I have been in a new and strange place these three weeks.

Last night though I had an Emmaus Moment. On my way to Mass, I guess I was thinking about my state of soul, and for some reason I put a song on my iPod in the car that I just bought -- "He Leadeth Me" performed by Sara Watkins (formerly of Nickel Creek). I'm not sure why I chose this song or even bought it in the first place, except that she has written and performed other spiritual songs I really liked (see The Hand Song from the first Nickel Creek CD). The song is performed in a very simple and spare style on guitar and violin:

1. He leadeth me:  O blessed thought! 
O words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me.

Refrain:
He leadeth me, he leadeth me,
by his own hand he leadeth me;
his faithful follower I would be,
for by his hand he leadeth me.

2. Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
by waters still, o'er troubled sea,
still 'tis his hand that leadeth me.
(Refrain)

3. Lord, I would place my hand in thine,
nor ever murmur nor repine;
content, whatever lot I see,
since 'tis my God that leadeth me.
(Refrain)

4. And when my task on earth is done,
when by thy grace the victory's won,
e'en death's cold wave I will not flee,
since God through Jordan leadeth me.
(Refrain)
And that's when it hit me that indeed He leadeth me, even when I feel I am in drought. When she sang "by His own hand he leadeth me" I felt the drought ending. What an image. So once again I am reminded of how Cleopas and the other disciple must have felt as Jesus broke bread and blessed it, ending their spiritual drought.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Hard Questions About Dr. Zinkhan

"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist." So says Verbal Kint in the movie The Usual Suspects. Events in Athens, Georgia over the weekend have me thinking about the existence of Satan again.

I spent the better part of six years in Athens from 1976-1982 getting an ABJ in Journalism and a Master of Marketing Research (MMR) degree in the very department from which George Zinkhan had taught since 1994. I've met George several times at various events there, including board meetings for the MMR program. There was to be a board meeting this week that I was scheduled to attend. Now it has been cancelled.

For the most part the media descriptions of Dr. Zinkhan are accurate relative to my experience. Introverted, socially awkward, eccentric, brilliant, disheveled in appearance, odd in behavior. He is exactly the kind of person that, when something like this happens, people say, "Oh, yeah, something was not right with that guy."

But there is a big difference between being eccentric and killing three people in cold blood.

Which makes me wonder for the umpteenth time: does Satan really exist? Because it seems to me at times like this that there is something that enters a person and tells them that some outrageous, barbaric act is really something that is going to help them make things better or set things right. Maybe that's what happened to Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. Jeffrey Dahmer. It's a long list.

Sometimes I wonder if we don't hide behind science -- especially psychology -- to explain the supernatural. There's no question in my mind that science and in particular psychology are more good than bad. But I think we go too far sometimes when we think we can explain everything from the weather and climate to why events like this murder happen. It can become a vain attempt to wrap our arms around the immensity that is God, and our arms will never be long enough.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Peter 2.0

A while back I wrote about Peter and his incredible metamorphosis over the time from when Jesus called him to his death in Rome years later. Before the Resurrection, we have a number of incidents featuring Peter in a none-too-complimentary light:

In the readings from the last two weeks from Acts we see a whole new Peter -- Peter 2.0:

For me, it is precisely because of Peter's all-too-human weaknesses as Jesus' disciple that I find his example so compelling once he assumes leadership of The Way.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Burning Hearts

Two months ago I started this blog by explaining its name, Emmaus Road, in a post that touched on the Gospel story of the apostles' encounter with the Risen Christ while walking on the Road to Emmaus. That same story is split between yesterday's and today's Gospel readings.

As I noted then, so often we do not recognize Christ's presence at times in our lives, especially times of trial or hardship until those times are over. Yet if we are attuned to the life of the spirit, we have the ability to access Christ's presence anytime, anywhere.

I was reminded last night of what you might call the Emmaus effect -- not being cognizant of how powerfully God is acting and teaching and loving us in our lives until something or someone opens our eyes, and we suddenly see how His works in a string of events has led you to a new and wonderful place.

Last night's eye-opener was re-reading a Valentine card from Pat that I have kept on my dresser, coincidentally since just before I started this blog. That opened my mind to wonderful changes three areas in my life, ranging from the trivial to the critically important, that have occurred recently and over a period of time.

On the trivial side, last year at this time I had just had my tennis rating bumped to 3.5 from 3.0, which was great...except that I lost every single USTA match I had in the Men's and Senior Men's league. All of them. 0 for about 12. We're not talking blowouts either -- about half went to the third set tiebreaker. Choking.

Now I'm not super-competitive, but a losing streak like that grinds you down. And then I only won one match over the summer. So I have done some soul-searching about why I play and how I play, as well as my technique. Mostly I realized that when you've been kicked like that over an extended period, you don't have anything to prove any more, nor do you have anything to lose. So you could say I'm a lot more loose.

So far this year I'm 3-1. So I thank God I am out of the slump. I've watched two different teams choke against my partner and I the way I choked last year. I am empathetic, but most of all I am thankful to be watching it happen to the other guy for a change. I can see now that my losing streak led directly to my new found winning ways, because it changed my heart, attitude, and approach.

The next area was in business, where until recently it had been about six months since I won a new piece of business. I coasted for a while on stuff already in the shop, but through it all there were two huge studies that were approved then cancelled, another even bigger one that we were a finalist for -- then that project was cancelled. We also had a promising client that we just couldn't seem to get anything going with. This also grinds you down -- even worse, because in our company if there's no work there's no income.

Now I've won two large projects in two weeks, and I have two others that are 90%+ probabilities. Looking back, that tough period laid the groundwork for these new successes in numerous ways, and set up our little company for continued prosperity even after this work is finished. More importantly I have a renewed sense of how much every good material thing -- work, projects, income -- is such a gift from God. No matter how smart I am or how hard I work, without God's love and grace and gifts I will not be successful.

Last but most importantly, the card reminded me instantly of perhaps the greatest gift I've been given, and that is my wife, Pat. About eight years ago, we went through a very difficult time in our relationship, serious enough that I questioned whether we really had a future together. It did not look promising.

During that period I prayed as hard as I knew how, and it was probably as close as I'll ever come to knowing what Christ went through the night before he died. I prayed for the survival of our marriage. I prayed for God to change me. In fact I prayed for God to break my heart of stone, and for the first time in my life I prayed that His will for me be done. I prayed and it scared me to death.

My prayers were answered in every sense -- not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way. I saw signs along the way, and at times my heart was burning inside me, even though I didn't understand what was happening. He changed me. He changed us.

The note inside the Valentine's card said (in part), "I think things are the best they've ever been between the two of us, and I think it's going to continue that way, too." I couldn't agree more, but last night the thought struck me that in the fall of 2001 I could not have imagined a day in the future when that would be true.

And it occurs to me now that late in the day on the first Good Friday, none of the apostles could imagine a day when they would see Jesus alive again. So that was their state of mind as Cleopas and the other disciple walked along the road to Emmaus "conversing and debating" about the events of the last three days. Then Jesus came to them, not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way, and with burning hearts "he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread."

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Catching Up

Well Holy Week has flown by, and now it's afternoon on Easter Sunday. Early in the week I had visions of lots to write about, but life got in the way as it has an annoying habit of doing sometimes. It's all good though -- much to be thankful for, and much to think about.

Wednesday night we attended a Seder Supper at the home of Jim & Abby Donnelly. This is a long-standing tradition with them, and we were blessed to be a part of it this year for the first time. Jim is Catholic and Abby is Jewish, and so they celebrate the Seder with a somewhat ecumenical flair, recognizing both faith traditions while following perhaps the longest standing rituals in human history. According to our friends at Wikipedia:

Families and friends gather around the table on the nights of Passover to read one of the many versions of the Haggadah, the story of the Israelite exodus from Egypt. Seder customs include drinking of four cups of wine, eating matza and partaking of symbolic foods placed on the Passover Seder Plate. With a Haggadah serving as a guide, the Seder is performed in much the same way all over the world.

The Seder is integral to Jewish faith and identity. If not for the Exodus, as explained in the Haggadah, the Jewish people would still be slaves in Egypt. Therefore, the Seder is an occasion for praise and thanksgiving and for re-dedication to the idea of liberation. The Seder goes on until late at night, with the participants reading the Haggadah, studying the meaning of various passages, and singing special Passover songs.

The Seder is an intergenerational family ritual. While many Jewish holidays revolve around the synagogue, the Seder is conducted in the family home...It is customary to invite guests, especially strangers and the needy...The Seder as family-based ritual is derived from a verse in the Bible: Vehigadta levincha' bayom hahu leymor ba'avur zeh asah Adonay li betzeyti miMitzrayim - "And you shall tell it to your son on that day, saying, 'Because of this God did for me when He took me out of Egypt'" (Exodus 13:8). The words and rituals of the Seder are a primary vehicle for the transmission of the Jewish faith from grandparent to child, and from one generation to the next.

I had attended one Seder, and not a very Jewish one, at the Catholic Center at the University of Georgia while I was in school there...25+ years ago. While not a family event in the strictest sense (the Donnelly's had invited 15-20 friends...I didn't count), it was nonetheless an awesome celebration. The Donnelly's are both gracious hosts and patient teachers.

There were two things in particular I was struck by during the evening. One is just how rich the tradition and the ritual are, full of history and symbolism, and requiring the full participation of every family member and guest. While I was familiar with the Bible story of the Passover and the history around it, I did not realize how deeply interwoven the ideas of liberation and freedom for all people were into the fabric of the tradition.

The other was the immense respect Jim and Abby show for each other's faith tradition and for each other. I was touched by the whole way they handled the connection between Judaism and Christianity, because the Seder is one of the deepest connections between the two faiths. The Last Supper was a Passover Seder Supper, and I see now that in Christ's celebration of liberation in the Seder he was also celebration our liberation from sin through His death and Resurrection.

Thursday night I attended Holy Thursday Mass at St. Paul's. Relative to some I have seen, it was a relatively stripped-down version with no foot washing. And yet hearing the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples was moving to me in a new way. I'm still working on the idea and practice of following Christ through serving others. It does not come easily or naturally to me, but I'm working on it. Maybe I should read that story more often.

Pat and I then left for our cabin in Ashe County right after Mass. We have guests using the cabin the following weekend, and it was badly in need of spring cleaning. Friday morning, though, I had an opportunity to pray outside on the deck before the rain came. For me, that is the best place on earth to pray (other than maybe St. Francis Springs) and it was wonderful.

We passed Saturday and Sunday cleaning and doing errands, enjoying each other's company and a few glasses of wine along the way. Another of my favorite things at the cabin is enjoying a good rain storm. The way our cabin is built you can hear every single rain drop, and the effect when the tempo of the rain is just right can be magical, especially if you listen to a good rain song like "Sit & Listen to the Rain" by Whiskeytown or "Riders on the Storm" by The Doors. We listened to both.

This morning we were up and out of there by 9 AM so I could make it back to lector at the 12:00 Easter Mass. More later...almost time for dinner with the family, and I have preparations to make.

Have a happy and blessed Easter season!

Friday, April 10, 2009

Holy Week, Part 1

It's been a busy Holy Week already.

Wednesday afternoon I attended the 12:10 Mass at the Franciscan Center in downtown Greensboro. I had not been to Mass there since last Lent, but it was a joy as always. I estimated there were about 100 people crammed into the little storefront at 215 N. Greene Street. What a tight little community it is, composed of people I imagine from every parish in Greensboro. I saw a number that I recognized from St. Paul's, including Sue Fullam from the Honduras trip and my friend Maureen Musci who sits in our little "neighborhood" at 5 PM Sunday Mass. At communion I noticed there were quite a few non-Catholics as well who received a blessing in lieu of communion.

As I looked over the community, it struck me as different somehow. There were many elderly people, which is not unusual for a daily Mass, but also a number who were sick or crippled, people from the streets, well-to-do people and professionals. Not many young people -- everybody here had some serious mileage on them. But I could not help but be struck by the atmosphere of unusual love and tolerance and trust and welcome.

Fr. Louie Canino celebrated the Mass as usual, and in truth most of these people come here for him, both because he loves each one of us so much, and because he feeds us spiritually -- a veritable banquet. Each Wednesday Fr. Louie travels to Greensboro from the St. Francis Springs Prayer Center in Stoneville just to celebrate this Mass.

Wednesday's Gospel centered around Matthew's account of Judas' betrayal of Jesus. In his homily Fr. Louie asked the community to share any times in their lives when they had suffered a great hurt. I was astounded by the response. Over the next ten minutes or so perhaps 20-25 different people shared the gravest hurts of their lives, the kinds of things people only share with family and close friends. "The death of my husband," "my son's addiction to drugs," "my husband's battle with PTSD," "the death of my son," "betrayal by a trusted friend," "the death of my wife"...and on and on. It was a litany of human suffering.

Fr. Louie then related their suffering that Jesus must have felt during his Passion. Not just the physical suffering, which was immense, but emotional hurt of His betrayal and denial by His disciples, and the fact that he was left to suffer these things utterly abandoned. It's hard to miss the physical suffering in the accounts of the Passion, but I had never considered how much greater was the emotional hurt.

Christ gave us an example of how to process this kind of hurt, Fr. Louie said:

  • First you have to own it -- not gloss over it or deny it, but truly own it.
  • Then you have to be angry. While we often think of anger as bad or negative, it's OK to be angry about something that really is bad. It's healthy and healing.
  • After that you must grieve for what's been lost.
  • Finally you must make it redemptive -- you have to find a way to bring forth goodness and growth from your hurt in order to move forward again.
That is the model Jesus gave us through his Passion and Resurrection. I plan to explore this a bit more from Easter on, but Fr. Louie's homily foreshadowed the major theme of Easter.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Peter

I think that of all the saints and various characters in the Bible, Peter is the one with whom I identify the most. That is not quite the same as saying he is my favorite, just that he is like me in some important ways.

For in Peter we have the Patron Saint of the Enneagram Six (a counterphobic one at that), a man whose "issues" from a psychoanalytic perspective always seem to revolve around fear vs. courage (see walking on water) and disbelief vs. faith. The story of his personal growth over the course of the gospels, and especially from the Passion of Christ through his death in Rome, is truly inspiring to me. The same Peter who denied Christ three times is transformed by the experience of Jesus' death and resurrection from a blustery, boastful, fearful man to one animated and made fearless by intimate knowledge of the Risen Christ.

In Tuesday's gospel, Peter makes a boast that will break his heart (and Jesus') in the early morning hours of Good Friday:

Peter said to him,
"Master, why can I not follow you now?
I will lay down my life for you."
Jesus answered, "Will you lay down your life for me?
Amen, amen, I say to you, the cock will not crow
before you deny me three times."
Last night at Mass we heard the story washing the feet of the disciples in the gospel of John, and once again Peter is a featured character:

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him,
"Master, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered and said to him,
"What I am doing, you do not understand now,
but you will understand later."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered him,
"Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me."
Simon Peter said to him,
"Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well."


Peter in one brief encounter ricochets between refusal to let Christ wash his feet to wanting Him to wash him all over. He is our stand-in, representing our lack of comprehension of what Christ has done and is doing for us.

And in John's account of the Passion for today, Peter is featured in two separate incidents. When the mob comes to arrest Jesus, Peter lashes out in his zeal to protect Jesus:

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it,
struck the high priest's slave, and cut off his right ear.
While Peter's heart is in the right place, he once again does not understand what has to take place. Not only that, but he reacts in a decidedly un-Christ-like way. In that he represents and anticipates so many of the abuses of the Church and others in using violence ostensibly in defense of Christ.

Then comes Peter's denial in the courtyard of the praetorium where Jesus was being questioned by Pilate. He denies twice that he even knows Jesus, and then:

One of the slaves of the high priest,
a relative of the one whose ear Peter had cut off, said,
"Didn't I see you in the garden with him?"
Again Peter denied it.
And immediately the cock crowed.
Luke's account is heartbreaking at this dramatic moment:

When a maid saw him seated in the light, she looked intently at him and said, "This man too was with him."
But he denied it saying, "Woman, I do not know him."
A short while later someone else saw him and said, "You too are one of them"; but Peter answered, "My friend, I am not."
About an hour later, still another insisted, "Assuredly, this man too was with him, for he also is a Galilean."
But Peter said, "My friend, I do not know what you are talking about." Just as he was saying this, the cock crowed,
and the Lord turned and looked at Peter; and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, "Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times."
He went out and began to weep bitterly.
When I read this passage I can almost feel the bitter shame of Peter, that in Jesus' greatest hour of need Peter denied that he even knew the Lord. In spite of three years of living with Jesus, being taught by Jesus, indeed being mentored by Jesus to lead the Church, Peter could still do this. And I think I can feel it because I am human, and I know that in spite of my faith and my love of Christ, I am capable of doing exactly the same thing.

It's no accident that Peter is featured prominently in so many of the stories leading up to Jesus death and resurrection, through the early part of Acts of the Apostles. I believe Luke in particular saw Peter as kind of a Biblical Everyman, the embodiment of both the foibles and weakness of humanity and the immense power of redemption through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the Gospels Peter acts out all of the boastful, cowardly things we are capable of. I don't like what I see of myself in the pre-Resurrection Peter. But I can't deny how much like Peter that I am.

But in Peter's experience we also see the immensity of Christ's love and forgiveness, of the power of redemption through the Resurrection. The one incident that encapsulates this is the disciples' encounter with the risen Jesus on the shores of the sea of Tiberius after the Resurrection. After Jesus helps them catch the 153 large fish, and shared bread and fish with them on the shore, he has a remarkable conversation with Peter:

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Feed my lambs."
He then said to him a second time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Tend my sheep."
He said to him the third time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, "Do you love me?" and he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." (Jesus) said to him, "Feed my sheep.
Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."
He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, "Follow me."
This passage is every bit as dramatic and emotional as Peter's earlier denial. Jesus acknowledges Peter's threefold denial, redeems him from his sins and missions him to lead the Church.

The notes in the New American Bible tell us "In these three verses there is a remarkable variety of synonyms: two different Greek verbs for love (see the note on John 15:13); two verbs for feed/tend; two nouns for sheep; two verbs for know. But apparently there is no difference of meaning." It's as if Jesus is saying we are to love Him in every sense of the word, take care of His people in every sense, that his people (sheep) are all people, not just a few.

Through all the aspects of Peter's personality and relationship with Jesus, we have an extraordinary and very human example to follow.

Monday, April 6, 2009

What Now? A Challenge for the Team and Our Supporters

Now comes the hard part.

Even though it's a big step going on a mission trip, and the trip itself is intense, the fact is that what happens after you come home is the hard part. Now you have seen the way life is for God's people in a faraway place where the material blessings of this life are fewer and harder to come by. You have seen how, in spite of these hardships and how vastly different their lives are, the people in Honduras are still just people, just like us in so many ways. God loves them as much as He loves you, and His light shines through them in such a special way. You cannot help but be affected, to be changed profoundly by the experience if you are open to the call of the Spirit.

Back now for more than a week, "normal" life creeps back into comfortable routine. We have our favorite foods (less rice and beans!), our big TV's, the Final Four, all our friends, our shiny cars and good roads, spring weather, school and work, and our families. Back at Shimishal, a new team is there working alongside Arnoldo, Fernando, Amada, and the rest. All those children are still in their orphanages. Families still struggle to make ends meet, to clothe and feed their families and keep a roof over their heads. The nuns at those orphanages still depend on the support of others, trusting absolutely in God to provide through others the things they need to raise the children in their care.

What will you do differently now that you've been there, now that you know? Will you tell your friends and your family about what you saw, the people you met, the work that's been done and the huge amount of work yet to be done? How the people there need our support, our prayers, as well as our efforts on future teams? Will you witness for them at your church and your office? Will you speak for them? And will you come back?

The emotion of our time there fades bit by bit, and our memories dim with the passage of time. It gets harder to remember names and faces. This is human, and understandable. But I hope you will keep in a little corner of your heart the love that was poured out on you so abundantly by the families at Shimishal and by your teammates.

When I started writing this, I thought I would suggest some ways for you to keep alive the experience of our mission together. But on further reflection I've concluded that each person's response is deeply personal, and in the same way that we each shared our particular gifts while we were there, our response will also reflect the gifts we have received from the Holy Spirit.

What I will do instead is share three things that I will do. First of all, I will lead another trip next March. Several of you asked me to lead another one, and so I will. Leading the trip was a challenge, but one of the most rewarding things I've done. I have requested March 5-14, 2010, which lines up with spring break for many universities in North Carolina. Second, as part of that trip, I have built in an extra day for the team to work at Hogar de Ninas in addition to the five days at the Habitat job site.

Lastly, I am committed to raise $4500 to help Sr. Dimora Lopez hire a full-time custodian at Hogar de Ninas. It was clear in our conversation with her that cleaning and maintenance is a tough issue for her. The vast majority of donations she receives are earmarked for a specific purpose like food, computers, etc. As a consequence she has no money for repairs or maintenance to the building, and trust me, it needs it.

If you are a team member who would like to help, or if you were at all moved by my story on the orphanage Hogar de Ninas, please send whatever support you can to:

Lisa Reynolds
Habitat for Humanity of Greater Greensboro
P O Box 3402
Greensboro, NC 27402
IMPORTANT: Please make the check out to Habitat for Humanity of Greater Greensboro, and put "Hogar de Ninas" on the Memo line of the check. It wouldn't hurt to put a note in there with the check saying that it's for Hogar de Ninas to make sure.

Even as I commit to these small acts of follow-up, I wonder if it is enough of a response to what I saw and felt those nine days. But maybe that's just part of what makes coming back so hard.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

In Praise and Thanksgiving for Infrastructure

There's been a lot of stuff in the press during the debate over the stimulus plan about our aging/crumbling infrastructure in the U.S. Maybe it really is in bad shape, and maybe I'm not the person to say. But I have now seen crumbling infrastructure up close and personal, and by comparison ours looks pretty doggone good.

In fact, I am saying a little prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing of our great infrastructure that is so invisible to us. We really don't understand how good we have it some very basic ways. So let me briefly catalog some things we can be glad we don't have to deal with.

And don't get me wrong, this is not a knock on the country, people, or government of Honduras. It's a developing country with a lot of pressing problems and not a lot of money to solve them. Luis mentioned to us that people come there all the time acting like Honduras is the ecological equivalent of Chernobyl, and it's not.

But here is a short list of things I noticed, and why I am thankful.

Roads -- to be honest, the roads are better in Honduras than I expected them to be, but that does not mean they have a great road system. The typical Honduran highway we saw was about three lanes wide, with no lane dividers. Traffic signs are almost non-existent -- speed limit signs only in towns, no signs indicating how far it is to the next town, inconsistent signage on how to get from Point A to Point B, etc. In places there were areas of extensive potholes, and in a couple of places the road had completely washed out and was just gravel and dirt for 100 meters or more. The bottom line is that getting around can be s-l-o-w: the trip from the San Pedro Sula to Santa Rosa de Copan is about 160 km or 100 miles. It took us about 3 1/2 hours.

Effectively there is no enforcement of traffic laws. Sure, the Policia Nacional set up checkpoints randomly, but it's not at all clear what they're looking for, and it's definitely not speeders. People drive insanely, particularly when it comes to passing, and unfortunately a lot of people die as a result. We even saw the aftermath of one fatal accident. I told the team it was just better not to watch when we were passing somebody. We here in the States can complain about speed traps and the like, but today I am thankful we have excellent roads and decent enforcement of traffic laws.

Water -- Everybody knows you can't drink the water. What does that mean? It means that you always need to be acquiring agua purificada -- purified water -- which I imagine is a big business. You can't use tap water to clean your food or make ice. When you take a shower you have to be careful not to swallow any, and you can't even rinse off your toothbrush with it. At Shimishal where we were building, the city supplies water by truck once every three days. People store water in black plastic cisterns on their roofs that double as solar water heaters. You can certainly live this way and live well, but it is inconvenient to say the least. I've been thankful since we got back that I can drink straight from the tap here.

Sewer -- Related to the water issues are the issues with the sewage system. Flush toilets are everywhere, so it's not like you're camping or anything. Occasionally you come across a toilet that has to be flushed by pouring in water from a bucket, but that's no big deal. However the only things that can go in the toilet are water and human waste. Every bathroom has a little trash can next to the toilet for your toilet paper. It's not as gross as it sounds, but it is an adjustment.

Electricity -- There apparently is no electrical code in Honduras, and if there is, it must be either very basic or not enforced. If you look carefully, you see a lot of things that would just never fly in the States. Looking up at the telephone poles carrying the power lines in Santa Rosa, you can see literally dozens of lines on each pole, almost like every house has its own line from the power station. At the Red Frog Tavern in Copan Ruinas, there was a bundle of power lines about a foot off the railing of the balcony. The wiring from the poles to the houses and within the houses (Habitat houses excluded) is equally dodgy. And at our hotel in Copan Ruinas, hot water was supplied by devices affectionately known as "widowmakers" -- on demand water heaters at the shower head. What looked like a 220V line came out of the wall and ran along the pipe to the shower head. The line was connected to the widowmaker using twisted wire and electrician's tape. Also, the power went out twice while we were in Copan Ruinas, and the impression I got was that it was a regular occurrence. Probably somebody taking a shower. ;-)

Solid waste disposal -- Garbage collection as a service or even a concept does not seem to be widely known or practiced. There is no sanitary landfill. You have to arrange for the disposal of your own basura (garbage), and a lot of it gets burned -- plastic, paper, batteries, cans, bottles, whatever -- and sometimes in unlikely places like along the side of the road. Most of Honduras is truly beautiful, and even pristine looking, but parts of San Pedro Sula, Santa Rosa, and even the small towns and individual houses had lots of litter around them.

So as you go through your day today, be aware of and thankful for the many BASIC services we have here that improve our health and quality of life, and remember that it's just not like that in many parts of the world.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

What I Did on Spring Break, or How to Build a House Out of Dirt

Most of the material used to build the houses we worked on in Santa Rosa de Copan came from the actual ground they were built on. It's a pretty fascinating process, and it saves the Santa Rosa affiliate about 25% of the cost of each house vs. using cinder block -- kind of a buy-four-and-get-one-free deal.

Most of the dirt came from digging foundations. Every foundation is dug manually in a sort of hand-to-hand combat using shovels (la pala), pickaxes (la piocha) and a heavy iron digging bar (la barra). Keith and Andrew dug more than one foundation, and that is hard work. The two of them seemed drawn to the toughest jobs, but I never heard a peep of complaint from either.

The footer consists of boulders about the size of a basketball set in layers of concrete. The boulders are quite large when they come off the truck and have to be broken with a sledgehammer.
Then we carry them in wheelbarrows or by hand and place them around the foundation...

...then place them carefully into the footer...

...and cover them with concrete carried by hand in buckets. Lather, rinse, repeat until it's up to the proper height, and presto! A foundation for a new home.

From there it all starts with dirt. But not just any dirt -- it has to be screened to get out big rocks, sticks, and trash. All of the dirt used to make the houses comes from the building site. Basically you just shovel dirt through screens like the one below. It takes a staggering quantity of clean dirt to build one of these houses.

Screened dirt is piled up in measured amounts (X number of wheelbarrow loads) and mixed with lime, cement and a small amount of water. The pile is mixed on the ground entirely by hand, and the resulting mixture looks like damp dirt. I expected the adobe mix to be much wetter, but it's really just damp.


This mix is then packed into block presses which compress the mix under extreme pressure using only manpower and leverage.


When the blocks come out, they are very fragile and are carried by hand to a flat surface where they dry in the sun. It takes about three days to cure the blocks before they are ready for building. In the picture below, team members stand blocks on end after they have dried for a day lying flat. This makes room for more block, and exposes more surface area to the air for drying.

When the blocks are dry, they are carried by wheelbarrow to the house where they'll be used. To lay the blocks to form walls requires lots and lots of mezcla (mortar) which is mixed by hand from screened dirt, sand, water and cement mix. Mixing a big batch of mezcla is one of the first things done every day, and it is hard work. Evidently so hard, in fact, that both Andrew and Bob are totally pooped.


The blocks are laid just like cinder block, with steel rebar running vertically in all corners and wall junctions for reinforcement. Thick steel wire goes in the mortar joint between every third course to tie the walls together. Below Molly and Fernando start a new course of block on an interior wall, while Megan demonstrates how to fill in mortar joints.



After twelve courses of block are laid, we pour a band of steel-reinforced concrete around the top of all the walls. This band also forms the header above all of the doors and windows. This requires rebar cages made of dozens of square wire forms that become the ribs of the cage, holding together four steel rebar rods that are each about ten meters long. Below Molly, Pat and Sue use the bolt cutters to cut wire for the ribs into uniform lengths. Below that, Judy helps one of the Hondurans build a rebar cage.


The cages are then bent to fit the walls and attached to the vertical rebar. Below, Steve and Gerard attach a cage to a wall we built, and Fernando gives the thumbs-up to indicate that everything is "cheke leke" with this cage.


The masons build wooden forms along the top of the wall around the cages to hold the concrete. These cages have to be very stout due to the weight of the concrete, and must hold tight to the wall so that the concrete doesn't leak out. Here one of the masons fits a piece in a bathroom window on the bottom of the form. There was not a single power saw on the entire site, so every board was cut with a hand saw.

After the forms are set up, we mix up an enormous batch of concreto to pour into the form around the rebar cages. Actually I think it took at least two enormous batches to do the trick for each house. Here Matt, Keith, Andrew and Bob are standing around looking like they just mixed that concreto, though probably the Hondurans did most of the work. ;-)


We shovel the concrete into 5-gallon buckets and hoist it up top to pour into the forms. Nacho Libre demonstrates how it's done. He's always stylin' with the do rag or something else on his head...such a slave to fashion.

After the concrete band has hardened, the masons add a couple more courses of block, then build the gable ends of the house to hold the roof.

The roofers then come and put on steel rafters and a corrugated metal roof. (Sorry, no visuals, though I did see it done).

The inside and outside finish on the walls is concrete stucco. Before applying the stucco, however, the walls have to be roughed up to hold the stucco mix. Nacho and Bob got the short straw and did that job for a day or so, which completely covered them in dust. It was one of the nastiest jobs of the week, but they stuck with it and never complained. Below Nacho shows off his mad guns while using the battle axe to rough up the walls.


Here is the finished product, with painted stucco walls, a poured concrete floor, and a few homeowner flourishes added for effect. Each house has two bedrooms, one bath, and a greatroom/kitchen, in a tight little package of 400-450 s.f.