Ice Cream Social

“Praise God with trumpets and all kinds of harps.  Praise Him with tambourines and dancing, with stringed instruments and woodwinds.” – Psalm 150 3-4

Harleema was ecstatic about her very first dance recital.  She looked adorable; the cuter-than-ever pony tail, the bright lipstick, the colorful costume.  She was ready!

As her piece began, the confident six year-old tapped like it was her ‘job.’  Toes tapping, fingers snapping, head bobbing - almost perfect rhythm . . . until her tap shoe came loose and as if on cue, it sailed into the unsuspecting crowd.

Horrified, she scanned the audience for her Daddy, who at the time was busy videotaping the priceless event.  Unsure how best to continue, she leaped off the stage landing safely in Navine’s arms as the video camera dropped clumsily to the floor.

Everyone laughed.  Harleema, cozily nestled in her Daddy’s grasp, seemed unshaken.  She received an ovation for her cute stage exit; Dad for his clutch grab.

As a reward, Navine took the family to a local restaurant and invited his new performing artist to say grace.  As they bowed their heads, Harleema voiced her blessing, "God is great! Thank you for this food . . . and if You are still listening Lord, could you see to it that Dad gets us ice cream for dessert?  With liberty and justice for all!  Amen."

Along with the laughter from nearby customers, a woman remarked, "What’s wrong with kids today; they don't even know how to pray.  Asking God for ice cream!  What nonsense, how disrespectful?"

Hearing this, the Harleema burst into tears. “Did I pray wrong?  Is God mad at me?" she questioned.

Navine held her for the second time that day.  With the warmth that only a loving parent could show an anxious child, he assured her that God had no reason to be angry with her.  

An elderly gentleman approached the table.  He winked at the tearful young girl and said, "God and I both thought that was a great prayer!"  

“Really?” she questioned.

"Cross my heart," he said warmly.  Then in a theatrical whisper, he added "Too bad she (nodding toward the outspoken woman), never asks God for ice cream.  Ice cream is good for the soul!” Before leaving the café, he instructed the waiter to add a round of ice cream for Navine’s family to his bill.

Harleema smiled broadly when her ice cream arrived.  She stared at the frosty bowl for a moment and then did something remarkable. She picked up her tasty treat and without a word walked over and placed it in front of the woman.  Joyfully, she explained, "This is for you M‘am!  Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes, and mine’s fine already."

Sweet Jesus – thank you for the wisdom of the children, their laughter and their loveliness make us all better children of God.  Help us to taste the sweet treats of Your bounty and the joy of Your Holiness. Amen.

Forgive, and Live!

“Put up with each other, and forgive anyone who does you wrong, just as Christ has forgiven you.” – Colossians 3:13

Charlie was the luckiest guy alive.  He had a magnificent marriage, adoring children, and a great job.  Work was close so he was frequently able to ‘sneak away’ for lunch with Eva and his two young boys.  Those days were always the most productive!

After a quick lunch and a couple of rounds of "dog-pile-on daddy,” he spent a few minutes with Eva before jumping in his car for the short drive back to work.  He was running a bit late as he backed down the driveway. 

Crunch!  

“Damn!” he muttered.  Joey must have left his motorized jeep behind the car again.  How many times had he reminded him not to do that, irritation streaking through his veins now.

He hurried to check the damage, and was mortified to find Joey’s limp body tangled in the plastic frame of his once pristine toy vehicle.  Oh my God!  He scooped Joey’s unconscious little body in his arms and yelled at Eva to meet him at the hospital (She had to round up Billy first).

Never had he prayed so feverishly.  Blasting through several stoplights, he arrived at the hospital.  Joey had still not moved a muscle or uttered a whimper.  Charlie handed his lifeless child to the ER doctor and waited for Eva.  He was terrified.  How would he face her?

Seconds turned to minutes.  Memories flashed like lighting.  He tasted fear.  Suddenly an expressionless surgeon approached.  He knew before she spoke that fate had taken his toddler child from them.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said “We did everything we could, but his injuries . . .” Charlie didn’t hear another word.

When Eva arrived to see him sobbing, she knew that their lives had just changed forever.  She looked at her distraught husband and uttered just four words: "I Love You Darling".

That’s exactly how Jesus would have reacted.  Joey was gone; he would never come back to life.  There’s no point in finding fault with Charlie; no point in blaming him.  He too had lost his beautiful son.  What he needed at that moment was consolation and compassion from his wife. That’s what Eva unselfishly gave him.

Sometimes we exert too much energy asking who’s responsible or who's to blame, whether in a relationship, in a job or with the people we know and miss out on opportunities to provide needed warmth and kindness. 

Shouldn't forgiving someone we love be the easiest thing in the world to do?

We either control our attitudes or they control us.  Don't multiply pain, anguish and suffering by withholding forgiveness.  The people you care about most are the essence of life.  Tell them today how much you love them and what they mean to you.

Forgiving Father, show us how to treasure what we have.  Help us let go of all our envies, jealousies, unwillingness to forgive, selfishness, and fears.  Help me to always be kinder than necessary.  Amen.

'Yaba' Dabba Dead

“If you are tired from carrying heavy burdens, come to me and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

It was a day like no other.  The sun rose, the birds chirped, the spring air was filled with the promise of new growth.  For Eric however, the day was dark.

He stared with horror into the silent coffin – the final resting place for his youngest son Jared.  Dead at age 17 – what tragedy . . .  what a waste!

By all accounts, Jared was the ideal teen son - popular, athletic, and smart.  But that wasn’t enough.

Eric never saw it coming; he had tried so hard to be a great Dad.  He used “missteps” as teaching moments for their boys.  When the oldest wrecked the car, Eric made him work overtime to pay for the damage.  Missing a curfew never went unpunished.  Church attendance was expected while still living under Eric’s roof.

Jared was given a generous allowance, all the popular electronics, and a used car for independence.  As parents, they made sure he understood the need to prepare for college. 

Like others in his peer group, Jared smoked weed occasionally with his friends.  What was the harm?  His older brother smoked grass too and he was doing fine.  

But his experience with the drug was different than his brother’s – his had become a habit.  And unlike his older brother, he experimented with more dangerous drugs seeking an even more powerful high.

What his parents didn’t see coming was methamphetamine, ‘Meth’ or ‘Yaba’ for short.  For Jared, it was super intense.  He began craving the ‘Yaba’ high, and quickly became addicted.  Jared had no idea that this poisonous chemical was slowly sucking life from him.  Food, sleep, family relationships or any outside activities were no longer important.

Eric never suspected meth.  Clearly something was wrong.  Jared’s mood swings were epic, and his growing inability to reason was disturbing.  He was rapidly losing weight and admitted thoughts of suicide to a friend.

As his tolerance for the drug grew – so did his hunger for Meth.  He became violent, and one day messed with the wrong guy at the wrong time.  He had been beaten so badly, Eric could barely identify his son’s remains at the morgue.

Wait! 

This isn’t the funeral home or the morgue.  Eric was sitting outside the Principal’s office.  He had been dreaming - a nightmare.  Jared had been in a fight but nobody got hurt.  His misbehavior was a wakeup call . . . and a lifesaving event for Jared.  

Jared entered a treatment program he desperately needed.  He had been out of control, literally killing himself for a high. Yaba gripped him quickly and held on until there is was almost nothing left. Jared was lucky, so far.

My Lord and Savior – you gave us free will - the ability to make choices, even bad ones.  Help me to stay strong and positive – that I may overcome any temptations and surround me with people that will help me focus on good things. Thanks for always being on my side!   Amen

Dads Are Angels Too

“Any man can be a father . . . it takes a special person to be a Dad." – Unknown

My Dad was like your Dad – the BEST Dad ever!

He was the strong, dependable figure of our childhood; the take-charge guy when things got tough.  Wasn't he the one who mended our bruised egos; who allayed our fears, dressed our wounds and strengthened our characters?  He provided a shelter from the storms of our sadness; a safe haven from the misery of our failures and excesses.  

Dad was in such a hurry for us to grow up, so that he could view the world through our eyes.  He couldn't wait to take us places – carnivals and parades, the park and the zoo, to church or to school.  He tried to capture every moment from our very first steps to our walk down the aisle?

He patiently helped us with math, giving us cues while we struggled with multiplication tables.  He stood beside us at Confirmation, made sure we attended Mass on Sunday, and helped us prepare for our first job.

He taught us how to ride a bike, mount a pony, fly a kite, swing a baseball bat, strum a guitar or match wits at the chess board like a genius. Dad walked the dog, fed the birds and trimmed the grass.  He stretched the limits of our imagination; encouraging fresh ideas in our minds and compassion in our hearts.

He took great pride in our accomplishments, big or small, always beaming with joy whenever we hurdled a new adventure - kindergarten, spelling bee, dance recital, prom, entrance exams, swimming lessons, first love, first job, first everything.  He was there at all the significant moments, looming large over us with his reassuring presence, speaking volumes with his gentle silence.

He loved Mom and lived out his wedding vows every day; setting the perfect example for both sons and daughters.  Sons learn how to treat women by watching their Dads.  Daughters gage themselves on how well Mom fared in the marriage deal.  We smiled when he opened doors for Mom.  We listened closely when he complimented her on how radiant she looked in that new dress, or expressed his appreciation for all she did.

Suddenly, he’s gone too soon. The void he creates is like a gaping hole - deep and hollow, permanent and irreplaceable.  But he never truly departs.  He remains in our memories - the hero of our early days, a fountain of wisdom and compassion, the rock from where we draw courage and resilience.  He lives forever in our hearts, even when all that stares back at us are photographs that time cannot erase.

Our Father, who reigns is heaven, Blessed be the fathers!  Let the example of their faith and love shine brightly.  Grant that we, their sons and daughters, honor them always with a spirit of profound respect.  Help make me a more patient, Godly and loving Dad.  Amen.

Happy Father's Day Sam

“What you learn from your parents will crown you with grace and be a chain of honor around your neck." – Proverbs 1: 8-9

While searching impatiently for the ideal Father’s Day card, Tom’s thoughts drifted back to an earlier time.  As if it were only yesterday, he saw himself as a young boy on a dusty baseball field.  There were no steel bats, or sliding shorts, or batting gloves back then.  Travel teams had not been invented – only Little League baseball.

“You’re up!” Coach motioned.  Tommy grabbed his “Louisville Slugger” and hustled out of the dugout.  A few practice swings for good luck meant he was ready.

He glanced briefly toward the stands hoping to see his dad.  Mom sat in the second row, immensely proud of her young athlete.  Tommy knew she was muttering under her breath about the uncomfortable wooden benches, sweltering heat, and absence of her husband.  She offered her grievances silently to God just in case He wanted to do something about them.

Tommy stepped to the plate.  The pitcher fired his first pitch wildly over Tommy’s head for ‘Ball 1’.

He looked back at his Mom still sitting alone.  She shouted, “Good eye, buddy. Good eye!”

Reassured, Tommy glared at the pitcher.  The second pitch barreled toward him; a good fastball.  Whoosh.  ‘Strike 1!’  A soft round of applause caused him to wonder if they were cheering at his failure.  He planted his cleats and gritted his teeth.

Tommy swung with all his might at the third pitch.  ‘Crack’ – a solid connection. Tommy watched the ball sail toward center field; his adrenaline pumping frantically.  Rounding first base, the ball remained airborne.  He briefly lost sight of the ball as the fielder’s outstretched arm snatched it out of thin air.  Inning over – game over!

Tommy lumbered back to the dugout where Mom waited. “Wow!” she said, “Great hit, and an amazing catch too.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He wanted to come, honey,” she said, “But he had to work.  He’ll try to make the next one.”

The two interlocked fingers through the fence.  A frozen memory.

He was back in the card shop now, facing dozens of cards about sons’ adoration for their fathers.  Eventually, he found a card and knew exactly what to write: “Honestly, you weren’t much help getting me into the Major Leagues . . . but I’m the man I am today because of you.  Love Tom.”   The sealed envelope went in the outgoing mail.

A few days later, his phone rang.  “Hello?” he said.

Awkward silence as Tom waited.

“I got your card and, well . . . I did the best I could. Thank you for the card son. I love you.”

“I know,” Tommy replied “Happy Father’s Day, Mom! I love you, too.”

Holy Father, for single Moms, everyday is “Father's Day”  . . . but not in the normal "celebrate how cool Dad is" American holiday.  Bless the Moms who wear both hats every day and encourage them to be courageous and faithful.  Amen.

Be the Change!

The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the one who trusts in him." – Psalm 32:10

Jose was depressed!  He can’t motivate himself to do anything; nothing makes him happy.  There are days when he can hardly get out of bed.  He rarely eats, sleeps or speaks.

He’s finds some comfort driving alone through the countryside at night - numbness washing over him like a sluggish wave.  Since he lost his job at the auto factory, he can’t adequately provide for his family.  They could move but he doesn’t want to abandon his birthplace; the small town where he had buried his parents.  His shame is drowning him; he feels inadequate, stupid, and desperate.  He deadens his mind trying to snuff out his inner pain.  “I might as well be dead,” he reasons.

Up ahead he notices a car broken down by the side of the road.  Its passenger, an older woman, must be waiting for someone to fix the flat tire that had crippled her journey.

Jose put on a friendly smile as he approached.  Noting her worried look, he suggested that she remain in the locked car where she could remain cozy and secure.  Quickly he replaced the damaged tire.  She couldn't thank him enough for going out of his way and offered to pay him.

“If you really want to reward me,” he paused, “Simply help the next person who needs it  . . . and think of me!”  He smiled as she drove away; trying to remember the last time he felt so alive, so content.   Making a Difference!

The lady drove on, stopping at a small, dingy cafe for a late snack and some hot coffee.  Ava, the waitress, had a sweet, untiring smile - one that a hard day’s work couldn't wipe from her face.  Despite her pregnant condition, she attended to every patron without complaint.

What a warm heart on a cold winter’s night.   She wondered how Ava could be so friendly to strangers . . .  and immediately thought of Jose.

A final gulp of her coffee and the old woman hurried out of the restaurant leaving a hundred dollar bill under her empty cup with this note:

"You don't owe me a thing, I've been there too.  Someone helped me out, the way I'm helping you.  If you really want to pay me back, don't let this chain of love end with you."

Tears streamed down Ava’s cheeks.  She returned home after her shift, thrilled with her ‘windfall.’  In bed now, Ava wondered how the old lady knew that they were desperate financially; she was due next month and her husband remained terribly worried by his unemployed status.

She gave him a soft kiss and whispered, "Everything's going to be alright, I love you Jose."

My God, please don’t give up on me!  Relieve me of thoughts that lead to depression. Your Word gives us hope – hope for a joyful and fulfilling life.  I know my future is secure in Your hands.  I want to be the change!  Amen.

'Catcher' and the Why

 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Never rely on what you think you know." – Proverbs 3:5

Sandra had never been so scared in her entire life.  Very cautiously she slowly climbed the narrow rope ladder . . . thirty feet  . . . fifty . . . and finally onto a tiny platform which seemed miles above the onlookers below.  She glanced downward.   The once enormous safety net had shrunk to frighteningly small proportions.   A slight breeze caused the platform to sway making it that much more petrifying.

She had always wanted to ‘fly.’  Now she tried to remember why the idea of trapeze lessons seemed like a great idea.   What was she thinking?

Steadying her trembling knees and grasping the trapeze bar in her sweaty palms, Sandra prepared to jump.  On a second bar, the ‘catcher’ was already swinging upside down by his knees ready to snatch her in mid air.

When he called ’Go!’ she mustered all her courage and swung into space.

Flying through the air, she made three important discoveries:  First, you can’t hold on to one bar while grasping for the other - you must let both hands go and leap!  Second, letting go is utterly terrifying.  Third, you don’t have forever to make up your mind.

She missed on her first attempt and fell helplessly to the safety net.  When the catcher was within her grasp, she had failed to grab him.  A second effort was equally awkward, as was a third, fourth and fifth.

The instructor grinned after her sixth failure.  “Trapeze artists come in pairs,” he said.  The ‘flyer’ is the one who does all the acrobatics and provides the entertainment.   Most people are amazed by the flyer.  But even flyers concede that the real star is the catcher.  He has to be there with split-second precision, grabbing the flyer out of thin air” 

“He’s called a ‘Catcher’ for a reason,“ he continued.  “Stop trying to grab him; let him catch you!  The trick is to “present” your arms to the catcher and let him grab you.  Only once the catcher has you firmly by the wrists should you grab back.”

Up the ladder for one final try.  This time Sandra abandoned the idea that she had to make the catch happen.  She reached out . . .  and felt his hands wrap solidly around her wrists.  A perfect catch!

Sound familiar?  

We are all God’s children; He’s always there for us.  Don’t be afraid – he’ll be there when you leap.  Don’t try to grab Him . . . He’ll grab you!  Just stretch out your arms and trust Him to catch you in His loving arms. 

Holy Father, teach us to be like Abram who You commanded to leave behind the comfortable things in his life to grip the insecurity of a completely unknown destination.  Help us to leave our comfort zones and leap into the Great Unknown, trusting You for what we cannot do alone.  Amen.

A Teacher's Lesson

“Good teachers explain, superior teachers demonstrate. Great teachers inspire!” -- Unknown

On the very first day of school, Ms. Thomsen lied to her 4^th Grade class.  She explained that she loved them all equally.  That was a fib because there slumped in the front row, sat Kyler - a disheveled boy with a reputation for being unmotivated, unfriendly, and untidy.  Ugh!!  Why was there one in every classroom? 

Her review of his previous years’ work quickened her pulse and touched something deep inside her.

"Kyle’s a bright boy with a hearty laugh. He’s well mannered, a joy to be around," wrote his 1^st grade teacher.

His 2^nd grade teacher penned, "Kyler is an exceptional pupil, well liked by his classmates, but he’s deeply troubled by his mother’s terminal illness."

Notes from last year were the most enlightening:  "His mother's death crushed him.  Kyler seems apathetic about school.  Friends are few.  He occasionally sleeps in class."

Mrs. Thomsen felt her face blush with shame.  It worsened when Kyler gave her a clumsily wrapped Christmas gift.  The box contained a rhinestone bracelet (missing a few stones) and a half-empty bottle of perfume.  She donned the bracelet and applied some of the cheap perfume, before hugging him.

"You smell just like my Mom used to," he said modestly.

He left . . . she wept.  That very day she quit teaching and instead, began inspiring young people.  

His mind awoke almost immediately; the more she encouraged him, the faster he responded.  He became one of the brightest kids in the class.  Mrs. Thomsen admitted lying again – Kyler was more than equal – he was her “favorite." 

He went on to finish high school before she heard from him again – a short note thanking her for being his ‘best’ teacher ever.

Four years later he graduated Magna Cum Laude from an impressive university.  She received another letter declaring that she was still his favorite and best teacher.  Eight years later a third letter arrived – this time signed by “Dr.” Kyler.  He was a pediatrician now.  She still held the top-teacher honor in his eyes.

One final note came a few years later – an invitation to Kyler’s wedding.  He asked if she would sit in the place usually reserved for the groom’s mother.

Of course she did, adorned with the bracelet-sans-rhinestones and wearing the perfume that Kyler remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.  They hugged each other warmly before Dr. Kyler whispered, "Thank you Mrs. Thomsen for believing in me.  You’re the BEST!"

Fighting back tears, she clarified, "You have it all wrong dear.  You inspired me!  I didn't know how to teach until I met you.  If a child can't learn the way I teach, then I must teach the way they learn.”

My God, thank you for those who listen, nourish and inspire. Thank you for teachers who expect much . . . and love enough to demand more. Thank you for that special teacher each one of us remembers.   Amen