Letter Part Two
Now that you have appreciated the people in your life, let me, with great humility and thanks to people far wiser than I, describe what lies before you. You will hear again and again that life is a “path”, a “road” a “journey”. Each of those is a useful image, but they imply a movement from here to there. The “There” being who you are not now, but who you must struggle to become. I think that is nonsense because you are already complete. You are exactly who you are supposed to be. The trick is to complete your journey exactly where you started.
When I was little, I was confined to the house every winter. My playworld was the living room, adjoining bedroom and kitchen. My greatest joy was being master of “Train World”. Now these were not the delicate little HO trains that pass for model trains today, but the great cast iron indestructible Lionel Trains. I would create infinite and elaborate pathways. Often the trains would leave the power terminals, shoot out of the living room into the bedroom, under the bed, behind the dresser, into the kitchen, beneath the table and back to the living room and home to the power source. They were supposed to always return to the very place they had begun. Now sometimes, when they got as far away from the power source as possible they would stall. Either they were just too far away, or the burden of their cargo dragged them down. Occasionally they ran afoul of a furniture leg and fell off the track. In either case they needed a gentle hand to urge them along, or set them back on track.
I think that image of life is a much more accurate one. We leave from a source of power and we wander through infinitely varied paths, always to return to the beginning source of power. Coming back you will have a great view of where you have been. If your journey has been successful, the view will have a much different look. The things that seemed so important weren’t and many of things that seemed insignificant really were gigantic.
It would be wonderful at this point to assure you that everyone completes their trip. That is totally true and totally untrue. Everyone will complete A trip, because everyone will end.
But not everyone ends up where they started, and anything less is a failure. Many will be stalled by the weight of their journey; some will be knocked from the track by adversity. The lucky will find a gentle hand to restart them, to retrack them.
Even more will be diverted to a siding- a track that leads them away from the main route to a dead end.
These sidings are all along the authentic path. Some, like substance abuse, are rusty and dark and clearly a diversion. Those are easy to avoid. The dangerous ones are the bright, shining routes that look and sound so inviting. So journey carefully. The authentic path is always love - it is healing, uniting, compassionate and forgiving. Anything that is not this, is not the authentic path. Should you start down one of these sidings and realize it is about hurting, separation, hate or revenge; stop, back up and seek the authentic journey once more.
And so we come to another break. Put this letter down – it is nearly done- and look at your 16 years of life. They have been wonderful and joyous and spectacular – even if you do not see it now, you will on the way back. Accept that you are exactly where you are meant to be at this moment. And this moment is the only one that is real. All that is past is past, all that is to come is to come. Regretting what was or fearing what will be, only steals the peace and joy of this moment.

So put this letter down for an hour, or a week or a year. All that is left is the container making and the content finding.

An open letter to my 16 year old Granddaughters
As I write this, one of you is 6 years and one of you is 6 months old. What possible advice or guidance can an old man give about a future he is unable to imagine? Well, as to advice, as a 16 year old girl, avoid all 16 year old boys. As a recovering 16 year old I can tell you they are up to no good! And for that matter 17 and 18 year old boys are even worse.
As to guidance through life, I can tell you only one thing of importance. God thinks you are the most wonderful, special, gifted creation of all time. But that’s not a miracle. Your parents feel the same way about you. So do I, so do your Grandmothers. The miracle comes later.
Now I know you have heard all about God’s love from your earliest moments. It is on billboards, and in books and all around us. We all know it, we just don’t believe it. If we did we would behave in a different way. Maybe this very simple example will help explain what I mean.
When I first learned to drive, I was taught to always look in the rearview mirror before pulling out into traffic. Dad must have told me that 500 times, I wrote it on the driving test; I could tell anyone who asked, “Look before pulling out.” I knew it, I just didn’t believe it.
Then one early morning along route 23 in Windom Township, I jumped into my car, never glanced in the mirror and pulled out in front of a tractor trailer. Only through the great skills of the truck driver do either of you exist. For the next 45 years I never failed to check the mirror before pulling out. I had gone from knowing to believing. When I believed, I behaved differently, I understood differently.
When you truly understand God loves you, you see things through a whole new set of eyes. For the first 60 years of life, I lived in fear. What if I couldn’t pay the bills? What if these people didn’t like me? What if I made a mistake, what if I didn’t get invited or got lost or didn’t know what to say? Often I was so scared, my mind left my body and I just stood there totally mute. And I was my own worst critic. Nothing I did was good enough. I wasn’t a good enough son, or husband or teacher or father or friend or person.
Then, for a lot of good reasons, most my own fault, I reached a very dark place. And perhaps because I was totally defeated, God was able to work miracles within me and I came to not just know that God loved me, but to believe God loved me.
The world began to look different. If God loved me, I was good enough. And more importantly, so was everyone and everything else, even the people I was mad at, or I didn’t like. And all the lizards and snakes and insects and crawly things that I had avoided, were good enough, because God thought they were.
And that is the great miracle of God! God feels the same way about every part and every molecule of his creation. He loves the fluffy little kitten, but he also loves the rat. He loves the poor suffering child, but he loves the virus that caused the suffering. If God feels that way about everything in his creation, how would I dare not feel the same?
Something else looks different as well. You will hear again and again when something is unexplainable that, “It is part of God’s plan.”If all the above is real and God is perfect love, then it is also true that God does not send hurricanes or childhood cancers or horrible family fights to his beloved children in order to teach them some lesson. Horrible things are the product of nature, or unlucky genes or our own human stupidity.
But God does use those things to work great wonders. As you age, you will be amazed at how many times great displays of love and compassion and healing come from great tragedies. Love, forgiveness, compassion and healing is God among us. Anything else is not God. Voices , no matter how loud or compelling, that proclaim God, but promote separation, judgment, hurt or punishment are not of God.
For now that is more than enough. Put this letter aside, and go and find your parents and tell them that just like God, you love them and appreciate everything they do for you. Even chasing those 16 year old boys away!

The following is a quote from Rhichard Rhor's daily meditation blog. I find it impossible to say it better, so I'll cheat a little.
"Ken Wilbur says that he believes the function of religion is to grease the wheels of history so that we can move toward non-dual consciousness, or what I would call the contemplative mind. Quite simply, we are supposed to move toward love. Mature religion;s function is to make us capable of compassion, mercy, forgiveness, nonviolence and care for others. When religion is not creating people who can reconcile things, heal things, and absorb contradictions, - then religion isn't doing its job. "



It seems so often the rituals of religion become the religion. We exist to serve the forms, not the forms existing to serve us. How many honest souls in search of truth have been mislead into thinking they had found it, because they could recite every prayer or made every observance, but they had missed the most important words in the Gospels? Over and over, it says something to the effect, if you believe you are righteous and holy, but hold hate in your heart you are neither righteous or holy. You can not serve two masters. You will serve love or fear, but not both and not one at one moment and another at another moment. And being human, fear is the much more powerful, which is why constant, daily conversion is so needed.

And so Christmas is back in the box, the baby sleeps and perhaps some of the peace and good will remains. This is both the saddest time of year and the most hopeful. Perhaps when the boxes open next year, real pace will have replaced the possibility of peace.
The resolutions have been made, and for the most part broken. This will not be the year I lose 20 pounds, nor will it be the year I bench press 180. Those are dreams of the past, but this year I might walk 1000 miles, I might do more exercise with less weight. Perhaps Yoga becomes more than an annoying duty.
Perhaps this will be the year I achieve a miniscule part of the spiritual growth I need. Perhaps this will be the year I grow slightly more patient, the year I become less sure I know the answer. Perhaps this will be the year I finally put cancer to rest.
Perhaps this is the year I learn to be present and to accept what is, to live totally in this moment and to release nothing but joy and healing and peace.
And just maybe this will be the year one foot moves closer to the Kingdom of Heaven, while the other remains rooted in the Kingdom of Man.

On Becoming Franciscan
Numerous people have asked me what the Tau Cross I now wear signifies. I explain it is a mark of being a member of the Secular Order of Franciscans, and that it marks those wearing it as belonging to God. On a deep level I have chosen to live out the Gospel Message as best I see it.
While I am explaining this, I listen to myself and the answer always leaves me unsatisfied. Don’t we all belong to God?? Don’t most of us try and live out the Gospel? Of course!! Is it really necessary to join a group to accomplish this?
For two months I have spent much of my writing time trying to compose a coherent explanation for why I made a decision to join the Franciscans. All I produced was lots of recycling. The problem was that I was describing an event, as if it were a single moment with a before and an after. Like a wedding. I was not married and then after December 21, 1968 I was. But there is a gigantic difference between a wedding and a marriage.

When I asked Kathryn to marry me, there were lots of reasons. I liked her ---- for some silly reason she seemed to like me, and she was really attractive. Most of all, I thought moving through life with this person would be “cool”. 42 years ago I would have used the word love instead of like, but 42 years later I realize the person I was, had no idea what real love was. Love grows and deepens with work and shared joys and shared suffering until the point is reached where there is no way to tell where you end and the other person begins.

It would be wonderful to be able to “go it alone”, to seek and find “the inner self”, the soul by myself. But I have discovered I am like the wheat seed that falls on good ground and flourishes, only to be overcome by weeds. By joining a group with the same goals, I have other people to keep me growing, weed free. Part of Franciscan teaching, is that conversion is daily, that each and every day is a new chance to grow closer to God. And that growth is always paradoxical.
Francis and Clare took vows of poverty, but it was not money they were giving up, but power. They choose to accept complete powerlessness, and in so doing became incredibly powerful. They choose what most people would see as a dour, confined life and became joyful and free. By seeing God in every part of creation, they were free to see God in themselves.

We all agree we are part of the body of Christ. But most people see themselves as the Aorta, or the brain stem, or something viewed as “important.” But if we are a complete body, someone has to be the toenail. On the surface, that seems like a disgusting picture, but anyone who has damaged or lost a toenail understands how taken for granted this body part is, until it is lost. What I most love about Francis and Clare was their total willingness to be the toenail of the body of Christ, if that was what was required. And to do it with total Joy.
I believe that becoming Franciscan is like being married. The wedding was good, but the journey was wonderful. C. S. Lewis always talked about putting on the cloak of Christ. Some mornings it slips on easily, some mornings it is a struggle. Then one morning they reach for the cloak and it is not there. They search until they realize they cannot find it because they never took it off.

HI!!
Not that the world has waited with baited breath or anything, but I am back to blogging thoughts. I would love to say I have been so involved with terrifically important things that I just haven’t had the time, but other than winning 138 consecutive Spider Solitaire games – not so much.
I haven’t been sitting around fiddling, though I have done a lot of strumming. Summer creates it’s own rhythm and by the time the day was done, I was done. Fall was nearly as Garden busy as the Spring and then Christmas was on us. The need for volunteer help seemed greater this year than any year I remember.
I have been doing an inordinate amount of reading, even for me. Part of that has been the book club at church, part of it Franciscan study, a lot of it mindless escape.
A fun part has been rebuilding our hall way and building a few furniture pieces. General play filled many hours. That’s all good. So has the time spent reconnecting or continue connecting with people, something I often neglected in my previous life.
Father Richard Rohr speaks about spending the first part of our lives building the container, the rest finding the contents. ( I am definitely into my content period.) I have spent a lot of time thinking about how this, much of what Sister Bridget teaches and the Gospels, especially Mathew, all fit together. Our superintendent often talked about the nature of knowledge passing through three phases. At first, on the superficial level, a subject seems easy, then, upon deeper exploration the complexities revel themselves and finally, when mastery is near, it once again seems simple. Right now I am deep into how complex and interwoven all this is. Someday I may be able to coherently explain some of it.
Probably the real reason I have been “gone” for so long is old fashioned writer’s block. For no reason that I understand I would sit in front of blank paper and, remarkably, after several hours it would still be blank. Good thing I am not trying to make a living at this! Even the letters I write to my grandchildren for their journals have been challenging and I suspect the part they will skip over. When I read the writing I have done it is pedestrian and honestly, the creative switch never gets switched. Perhaps it is like faith, brief spurts, long dark dry spells. Or maybe I really cannot write. Oh Well! Stay tuned.

We were there!

Now under normal circumstances, if there are more than ten cars in the Mall parking lot, I drive by on the assumption the place is overcrowded. So when my darling life mate suggested driving five hours to deliberately be crowd fodder, I had some reservations. But, we have reached that wonderful place where we will do about anything to make the other one happy, and since the weather was going to be nice, why not??
So, Friday morning we threw a remarkably small suitcase in the back of the car, loaded up with bananas and nuts, and headed for Rockville, Maryland. Rockville won the destination award because the hotel is 100 yards from the Twinbrook Metro Station, with direct service to downtown Washington DC.
Saturday morning dawned with all my desires met. It was bright and sunny and breakfast was all you could eat. We headed for the Metro confident that we were ready to execute our plan, which was to visit a couple of museums, stick our heads out about a quarter to 12 and watch the rally from someplace outside the crowd and then walk up to our favorite Irish Pub, Fado’s, on 7th street.
Mental alarms started going off when the train pulled in to Twinbrook Station. It was full. By the time we went through 11 more stops, full took on a whole new meaning. But the day was still bright, the plan still intact. We started walking the ½ mile or so from Metro Center to the Mall. By Constitution Ave., it was clear “crowded” wasn’t going to define this event.
Time to reassess the plan. OK, we would stake out a place and see what happens.
We found a very inviting recliner tree, well away from the crowd. It was comfortable and the crowd was entertaining. Maybe we would catch the museum afterwards.
By 12, we were standing in the exact same place but we had been eaten by the crowd. As to how many, my somewhat informal calculations arrived at 211, 812 give or take 3. One of my tree companions was probably more accurate when he leaned over and said, “There are a hell of a lot of people here!”
The rally itself was a lot of good natured fun, with some underlying value. For me, the best part was the video clip of all the stupid things being said around the country about other people. Rush and Beck did not surprise me with their inanities, but there were just as many Democratic idiotic statements. To be honest, that made me a little ashamed.
The rally ended with a serious speech by John Stewart that would be worth anyone’s time to listen to. I am sure more computer literate people than me, can find it easily.
Rally over, time to head up to the Pub and celebrate, only no one was going anywhere. Mob scene. Yet no one that I saw was anything but polite and considerate – sort of. Police had closed 7th street up a couple of blocks. This allowed pedestrians to fill both sidewalks and the center of the street as well. Kay and I worked our way to the sidewalk because clearly, auto traffic would soon fill the roadway. Only that didn’t bother most people, they just walked around and between the moving vehicles.
Upon arriving at Fado’s, it was obvious dining plans were in jeopardy. Every place was filled. After a short wait we got into Fado’s, found a stand up ledge and ordered Guinness, wine and sandwiches. Several hours after the rally, we reached Metro Center only to find the crowd waiting for the red line towards Shady Groove was gigantic. We waited in a largely civil, patient crowd until allowed on the platform, and then with a push and a tug, we were on board. Finally, I had a grasp of what a full metro train in Washington actually is. Nothing I am in a hurry to experience again.
In the end we made it home to Rockville, then on Sunday, home to Binghamton in time to greet over a hundred incredibly cute kids on a candy quest. The cutest was a little Lady Bug that showed up right at the end.
Great time, great experience, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a sudden outbreak of civility??