Soulful Muse

Thank You God for making “gift” a verb. We only see “gift” as that beautifully wrapped (“Save the paper,” says stingy grandmother) box, a bow on top and under a December’s evergreen or before us on our birthday or anniversary.

You made “gift” an action – something to be shared, exchanged and used and reused again and again. It’s life, it’s our talents, it’s our potential as well as setbacks that teach us to redefine ourselves or revise a pattern of thinking, it’s a parent’s death that causes us to hug our children a little tighter at night, it’s our smile to the cashier whose last thought is you standing in front of her, it’s the space of silence your provide for a troubling friend, it’s your quiet of thirty minutes before you go to bed with the children asleep and your husband in the next room, it’s the “I don’t know” in your eyes when you truly do not know, it’s spotting a friend’s look that doesn’t look good …

it’s our unfolding gifts in the job we’ve prepared for or the job that seemed to prepare itself for us, it’s learning and relearning teamwork when you prefer independence, it’s an unfolding gift that your boss sees in you that you didn’t see for yourself, it’s the “this and that” of any day that sparks encounters, conversation, laughter, and even at times tears.

Lord God, thank You for making “gift” a verb and not a dead noun that lays there until it’s ripped opened and then possibly returned the next day. Your verb-gift is either returned to us in friendship or offered and dismissed. Either way, it is still your verb-gift. We know that “re-gifting” is tacky in our culture but in Your eyes it is a parent’s example to a quarreling young boy that, years later as a man, he remembers when another quarrel begins. This modeling is rarely named but somewhere and somewhere retained in the young person’s soul. That’s the “re-gifting” You want from us.

Verbs move and have actions. A printed diagram would have arrows pointing back and forth showing both words and silences of care, concern, sympathy or encouragement.

Thank You God for giving us a verb-word that’s able to uncover, unwrap and share with all those we meet.

Sorry, grandma, there’s nothing to save when the word “gift” becomes a verb.

books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS, available in paperback or Kindle at Amazon:
“Soulful Musings”
“Living Faith’s Mysteries”
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow,” she told her daughter.

She came to visit her mom yesterday as she about to take her fourth pill with three more to follow. “Religiously” follow pill-taking doesn’t begin to explain her morning regimen. “Why are you taking this pill Mom?” she asks her. She tells her that it’s been years and doesn’t know any longer but it’s clearly apparent that she would surely die if the first three were not taken before the fourth; making the fourth pill futile and her remaining three even more, futile.” (As though “futile” needs a modifier!)

“You should talk to your doctor, then,” says concerned daughter as any of us would reply. “I don’t want to bother him,” says Mom as any eighty-year-old would say. “It must be good for me, after all, it’s blue.”

The pill is the largest of her seven and being colored blue doesn’t seem to make the “going down” any easier. “Why not place it in some apple sauce?” says daughter who stumbled on an internet article when searching for another site. “The doctor told me…” says Mom who just wants to down the damn thing to ingest the remaining three.

It’s a hard pill…

when your husband dies a lingering death as you pray, you watch and you remember
when your son elopes, no messages even with all these available technologies
when that stupid spill in the kitchen leads you to six weeks of therapy
when the star in a movie you rooted for dies at the end and tears begin to flow
when that “other” person got the promotion, even with all your experience
when the Packers get so close and then pack it in
when the outdoor party gets rained on but everyone except you laughs about it
when he promised he’d call tonight…
when she promised she would…

Mom puts the blue pill into the apple sauce only because her daughter is standing over her. It will not happen again because the doctor didn’t tell her to put the blue pill into apple sauce. All seven pills are digested for whatever effect or non-effect they may have in her life.

Her morning routine has been completed and now she will live forever except for those other pills that just seem to be lodged in her throat.

books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS, available in paperback or Kindle at Amazon:
“Soulful Musings”
“Living Life’s Mysteries”
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings”

Frank Sinatra got it right when he sang, “That’s Life.” He sings for us life’s “six nouns.” Six descriptive words that plant us squarely into the call we all have received.

We think of “The Call” as something for a priest, brother or sister. Through our baptism we have all been called – chosen – to complete this gift of life with all the life we have to offer.

Unfolding our gifts, renewing our gifts – using our gifts to better our world. It’s a tall order for anyone but truly we each contribute to it.

Frank sings, “You’re ridin’ high in the month _______, shot down during the month of ______.”

Leo and Kate with extended arms at the bow of the ship (April) a short time later freezing together near Iceland, yes, May.

Six nouns, Frank gives us to summarize our lives at different points. We wish to hold on to one of them but life makes us experience all six and sometimes life repeats itself again and again to show us the fullness of life.

But the beauty of this unfolding life of ours remains that darn call – a call that might keep us awake at night if we don’t answer the call, a call that wakes us up early because we can’t wait to get to work again, a call that even retirement can’t diminish. A call that’s as passionate as breathing is to the body. The call is the call that excites untested young people as it slowly reveals itself or the call can become the dreaded nightmare for the 40 year-old who didn’t respond when the call called.

The first noun is for the corporation we represent, the second noun is for the payment we never think is enough; Noun three is for retelling stories others told us and making them our own; The fourth noun is that we do have moments when the words we speak and mean are truly our own; Number five is who else can do our job either better or more cheaply? and the last noun, we’re the one doing something great right now, this very moment – each in our own way – and we love it.

Frank sings,

“I’ve been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing
Each time I find myself layin’ flat on my face
I just pick myself up and get back in the race..

That’s the stamina of our call – both during the good times and still smoldering during those low times. (I like to call it our life’s “pilot light” that never goes out.) A young man was interviewing people at Alexian Village for his podcast so he interviewed me. In general ways, I mentioned ups and downs in my life. He wanted details and I replied that they are mine, mine alone. He then asked me what I would change in my life as though to smooth out my life’s rough edges or the parts I regret. I told him that I wouldn’t change a thing because then I wouldn’t be who I am now, the person I am now. Those successes, failures, near misses and misses and happy times all make up my life – and your life too. To “smooth out” as only a young person would say would have been to “miss out” on this adventure of life – complete with its squarely planted call. A call to be the people that God created us to be.

________________________________

for the corporation we represent
Puppet
for the payment we never think is enough
Pauper
for retelling stories others told us and making them our own
Pirate
we do have moments when the words spoken are truly ours
Poet
who else can do our job either better or more cheaply?
Pawn
and
King – we’re the one doing something great right now, this very moment – each in our own way and we love it.

books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS, available in paperback or Kindle at Amazon:
“Soulful Musings”
“Living Faith’s Mysteries”
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings”

He looked out his celestial window on that seventh day and saw that “It was good.” Creation began and continues this very moment. He saw the many colors outside his window. From his heavenly vantage, he saw possibilities, promise.

She gazed out her window and witnessed the hustle and bustle as a new day began. Was this day to bring something new or merely a yesterday’ repeat? It can only be told at the end of this beginning day. Did she see possibilities for all those anonymous faces passing by her window? Could she see promise in the way they walked – quick steps to get to work on time or were they the slower steps of a retired chap whose time is no longer measured by a 9-5 clock.

He gazed down at us and was hurt by the destruction we were destroying so he decided to start all over again in spite of his perfect, first creation. He destroyed what we were trying to destroy – ourselves. So he looked hard through his heavenly window and sent floods upon floods until the cleansing was complete. He then inspected his new world, now containing two of each, and offered us a dove and a rainbow vowing that he would never, ever do that kind of damage to us again. He promised us. He’s kept his promise.

Taking a look out her window causes her to bring her reflection back to herself in her own, private thoughts. Promises made; her promises and those made to her, some broken and others forgotten along with her fulfilled promises are her thoughts as she studied the passerbys carrying their briefcases, relying on canes, holding hands or holding out a hand looking for a free dollar. She saw much and reflected upon much.

He, by the way, never really apologized for those floods but he kept a promise he made to all the ancient prophets. He inspired them to talk to everyone they met about a “covenant” that would beat all other covenants. “Unbreakable,” he told those prophets. “Written in their hearts,” he assured them – nothing to be taught, just lived. A covenant of reconciliation and mercy. Two words that only he can fulfill.

She was frugal as only her generation could do. Even her bus fare became a big decision.  “Dasent (a word from her era),  Dasent spend what you don’t need. I’ll walk.” She’d window shop but never stopping to buy, isn’t that the “Georgy Girl” song? Observing and taking in the sights of sounds of the busiest city in the world.

Observing, absorbing, reflecting. Pretty good and meaty words for us impulsive types. It’s the three-word-process that leads to a decision. It’s the three-word-process that leads toward a belief. It’s the three-word-process that makes an idea a value.

He thought his window was getting kinda dirty but then realized that he was looking squarely outside and downside and saw things unraveling yet again. That flood-thing wouldn’t work for him a second time. He promised us. He studied what he saw through his divine window, smiled in agreement with his thought and sent his son to show us how to see from one window to the outside  – one person’s to the next person’s window. He instructed his son to emphasize “hope.” “You can’t say ‘hope’ enough to those folks down there,” he tells his son after Mary is made his designated-mom.

Catching a glimpse of someone who looks like her grandchild or great-grandchild, a silent prayer is offered by her to the guy up there and to that growing person down here. She smiles hoping that her prayer is not just a wish but a sincere hope for their unknown stumbles, their misguided decisions but most importantly their rewards to express their right talents in the right job.

He sent us his only son. It has a happy ending if you don’t mind my “spoiler alert.” But the problem is that he still looks outside his window and continues to rely upon us – each and every one of us – to make his creation the way he created it and rested after, on that seventh day. We still don’t seem to get, do we? Perhaps if he had other children to send us? No.

I envy those two people. They both had wonderful, clear windows to observe, absorb and reflect. Mine looks out at my neighbor’s garage. (He keeps it quite orderly.) But it’s my view that views the world full of other views and still more differing viewpoints.

If images are your thing and the Church loves images then God is the window to all that can be and will be. I’m sure she learned in her many years that Jesus Christ was the glass- Jesus is the means to recognize the God-window that contains him. The Holy Spirit? That’s easy when you live in an older home. Insulation isn’t that great so the Holy Spirit gets to float and permeate every part of our lives. Together this Trinity blesses our lives every day as it blessed hers, it’s the Spirit that stops us, when necessary, but no longer with a flood but now spoken through a caring friend or spouse, a Spirit that offers us possibilities and promises the way he created the world to be. The best of all is that repeated message he gave to his son – give them hope, lots of hope for both today and tomorrow.

And, add in a lot of Windex.

books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS, available in paperback or Kindle at Amazon:
“Soulful Musings”
“Living Life’s Mysteries”
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings”

I’m 64 years old but what’s talking are those calendars piling up my years, it’s not me talking.

If I ever see “In Search of the Castaways” with Harley Mills I’ll be 8 years old again. Those days, we could stay and watch the movie a second time; and we did.

If “The Letter” by “The Boxtops” comes on the radio then I’m 15 years-old and at a weekend retreat at St. Norbert’s College in DePere, Wisconsin. The four of us seminarians plot to steal all the 45-records in the Top 30 that week at the local store. I think we failed to complete our theft-quest but that song along with “Pictures of Matchstick Men,” by “Status Quo” was among our ill-gotten gains. (I think it was “put the records in your front pants” routine.) Didn’t get caught.

When I preside at Mass, it’s the 25-year-old that wants to say what’s on his mind because it’s of extreme important but the 55-year-old reviews the message and the 64-year-old refrains from saying it.  “Whew. That was close.” And all those unwritten letters to the pastor.

The 25-year-old in me drives like a 25-year-old but the 64 butts in and tells the 25-year-old that yellow is not a suggestion but an urgent message to stop before it turns red. (The 64 also prays that no one who’s 25 years old is behind him without that earned wisdom.)

Discovering symphony music late in life, it’s the 64-year-old who remembers hearing it the first time at 30 and wishing that enjoyment began in his teens. (Oh well, better late than…?)

The 28-year-old learned and is all set to implement every Church law but the 64 has earned compassion and mercy. (I still got a “B” in Canon Law!)

The 64-year-old watches an old movie and the 15-year-old tears well up and tears run out. My 64 smiles at my 15 and thinks, “Oh, just go ahead.”

The 64-year-old reads the newspaper at my calendar age but with the passion of a college-age graduate thinking that something, somewhere can improve and be different; “If only…”  I hope to never lose that promising age of promises if I live to be 74.

I begin Mass at 28 years-old, the year of my ordination. My sermon is a combined combination of 28, 38, 48 years and now at 64 years, it’s all about proclaiming heartfelt messages of hope and peace.  I bow before the altar at the end of Mass and return to that 28-year-old wondering why I’m the one doing this and not someone else. (It only lasts a short while until I become 64 again and realize the “why.”)

But please don’t discount my wavering ages when “The Buckinghams” sing, “Don’t You Care” or “The Young Rascals” sing, “I Don’t Love You Anymore” that I don’t revert – no, I return to that glorious time of youth that brought me to this glorious age.

Am I 64 years old?  The Beatles would say “Yes,” but I’m not so sure about that.

books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS, available in paperback or Kindle at Amazon:
“Soulful Musings”
“Living Faith’s Mysteries”
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings”