Month: November 2022

It was a sunny Friday; Helen was off work and I was unscheduled. We decided to go to noon Mass at the downtown church – the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception – and then grab a nice, leisurely lunch. It would be nice to take time just for ourselves for a change.

In the parking lot after Mass, we spotted a bedraggled man quietly asking others for help. Seeing needy people is not unusual in most cities. They often present us with a conundrum. If the need is genuine, we want to help. But we don’t want that help going up anyone’s nose or down their throats from a bottle. And it’s not always easy to make an on-the-spot decision.

On this beautiful, sun-splashed afternoon we had just been inspired by a brief homily reminding us that it was our responsibility to respond to need and let God take care of the rest. But Helen and I seldom carry more than a couple of dollars, and we had just put what scant cash we had in the basket at Mass. We instantly regretted not adopting the practice of keeping a few “care packages” in the car.

Still, the guy seemed sincere. Helen dug deep in her purse for any loose change. I pulled out the few coins in my pocket and cleaned out the small stash of change from the car’s center console. In all, we probably scrounged up close to five bucks. Not much, but not nothing, either.

“Sorry,” I said as I poured the change into the man’s cupped hands. “Best we can do.”

The man scanned the coins in his hands, looked at me, and then violently flung the money into the bushes nearby. He stormed away, grumbling, “I can’t do anything with that.”

Helen and I looked at each other – stunned. We felt used, violated. Our shock was eased only by the fact that we had done what Jesus asked us to do – give without concern for the results.

That evening, sitting in the lanai with the cat on my lap and a beer in my hand, I still felt the sting of a rejected gift; a grace tossed away. Why did he do that? And then it hit me.

How many times had I rejected gifts – God’s gifts? Tossed aside His graces?

It’s easy to take some of God’s gifts for granted: family, friends, health, employment, food, clothes, shelter – life’s necessities. But we also tend to forget the gifts that enrich our lives. 

When God wants us to take joy in His creation, He has birds sing to us. He shares His beauty in the delicate petals of a flower and the grand expanse of a vibrant, multi-colored sunset. There’s excitement in the touch of a spouse, and peace in a gentle rainfall. There’s wonder in something as small as the buzz of a hummingbird and something as immense as a total lunar eclipse. And, of course, God gives us majesty in the gift of Himself in the form of the Eucharist.

When I take His gifts for granted – toss them aside – does Jesus also feel used and rejected?

Whether He does or not, maybe I should still try a bit harder to live in the moment, take a breath and be a little more conscious of what’s going on around me. And then actually thank God for those gifts.

If you liked this story, I hope you will choose to subscribe. I try to upload a new entry every couple of weeks or so. Just scroll down, enter your email address and click “Subscribe.”

My mother-in-law, Helen’s mom, died last week. Pat Howell was 88.

Mom Howell was in her 70s when I met her. She seemed to be the perfect example of the elegant, sophisticated, soft-spoken Southern woman.  Early on, when I passed that observation on to Helen and her siblings, they were quite bemused, saying that’s not nearly the woman who raised them.

Pat was a businesswoman; she and her husband Bob owned their own printing company for nearly 40 years, going toe-to-toe with suppliers and handling all employee issues and concerns. She raised seven strong-willed, independent-minded children. She was such hell-on-wheels, her family nickname was Brute. This certainly was not the Pat I got to know, a quiet woman devoted to her church and her family of grown children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Pat Howell suffered for many years with COPD, which sapped her strength and vitality. She broke a hip in August and was released to home Hospice care a few weeks ago. It was her wish to be home where she could look out her bedroom window at her garden and the birds around the feeders instead of being surrounded by medical machines and hooked up to IVs. Mostly, she wanted to savor as much time as possible with her sons, daughters, grandchildren and sister Paula.

And that’s what happened. She was never alone; family members sat with her continuously. Still, those last few weeks were difficult for Pat as she grew weaker, slowly and begrudgingly yielding to the fog of the end stage. A couple of days before she slipped away, she woke up a bit and whispered a question to Helen – “Am I dying?”

“Yes, Mom,“ Helen answered gently. “You’re going to be with Jesus and Dad.”

Pat shot back immediately, “What time?”

Helen had to stifle a chuckle. Typical Mom, Helen thought, a woman who spent most of her life raising kids while simultaneously running a business. Needing to know what to do next and what time to do it.

But you don’t need to be loaded with responsibility to look ahead. If you think about it, that’s pretty universal. I know I focus more on the future than the present. For example: When’s our next band jam? When can I finally travel to see family and friends back in Syracuse? Will I make it to heaven? These are the things in my head. Listening to music and enjoying a glass of wine while sitting on the lanai to watch the cardinals and hummingbirds? Not so much. I mean, heck… even the title of this blog is the forward-looking “Now What.”

I daresay if you think about it, you’re probably not much different.

That was the wonderful gift Pat gave to her family – time to enjoy just sitting with her. No looking ahead, really. Just the “now.” Fully aware of God’s wonderful gift of living life in the present. Thanks, Pat. I miss you. We all do.

If you liked this story, I hope you will choose to subscribe. I try to to upload a new entry every couple of weeks or so. Just scroll down, enter your email address and click “Subscribe.”