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The grass is always greener. Except when it’s not.

For the past few years, Dennis and I have seriously talked about wanting to move away from here. Here being New York’s Capital Region. The bloom is off the rose, I guess, or, as I always seem to say for no apparent reason, the rose is off the bloom. I think it has something to do with our weekly drives to church in downtown Albany every Sunday. Read more

Zen and the art of fall lawn maintenance

I was sitting in my office this afternoon, trying to ignore the constant buzzing, droning sound of the neighbor’s leaf blower, when I remembered a section of Everyday Divine that focuses on the power of repetitive motion, specifically raking. So I thought I’d share it here for all those folks who will be piling and hauling and bagging leaves this weekend. And if you happen to be among those getting a little snow, there’s something for you as well. Read more

Striving for a new kind of perfect

“Do not wish to be anything but what you are, and try to be that perfectly.” — St. Francis de Sales

When I look at the magnificence of the delicate monarch butterfly above and read the wisdom of one of my favorite great saints, my first reaction is: “Easy for you to say.” They’re already pretty close to perfect by any objective standards, so they’ve got some nerve implying that little old perpetually imperfect me can do the same. But they weren’t always perfect, were they? Read more

Cardinal Dolan on hurricane recovery: ‘People are heroic and generous’

Cardinal Timothy Dolan of New York was on Fox News earlier today talking about the “heroic and generous” spirit of New Yorkers in the wake of the disaster caused by Hurricane Sandy. Click the link below to view the interview. (Embed code isn’t working. Sorry folks.)

http://video.foxnews.com/v/1936854689001/cardinal-dolan-on-finding-hope-amid-sandys-damage

Everyday Divine: The Eye of the Storm

 
A mild storm in upstate New York

Although New York’s Capital Region was spared any serious weather issues due to Hurricane Sandy, I have lots of family and friends facing really difficult times ahead. No power, trees down, houses damaged. Today I’m sending out prayers to all of them and everyone else whose lives have been turned upside down by the storm.

So often, when things like this happen, we find ourselves questioning. Why? Why here? Why me? Why not me? All of that made me think of a passage from my new book, so I thought I’d share it here today even though my book will not be released until one week from now. Read more

The color before the storm

 
A lone red leaf amid the more dominant yellows and browns.

It’s been a weekend of leaves fading and falling fast — like giant snowflakes, covering the ground quicker than I can rake them away. We seem to have more leaves this year. Impossible, I know, but that’s how it feels. Perhaps it’s that they’re falling earlier than usual. Here are a few last shots of the beautiful colors.

A long shot of the mighty oaks, maples, and poplars that drop more leaves than you can imagine (especially if you don’t live in upstate New York).

Still plenty more to fall.

I loved this color combo in the late afternoon sun. Now those leaves are mostly gone.

Neighbor’s maple and our Korean dogwood.

 My favorite. I planted this Japanese maple soon after we moved here, just about 13 years ago.

Beautiful in every season.

 We don’t just have pretty leaves. We have fantastic fungi.

Hidden mushroom.
Lovely layers.

Here’s our autumn decor. It doesn’t look quite as picturesque now because the squirrels have eaten about one quarter of the pumpkin and a good chunk of the white gourd. No acorns this year. Not a one. So I guess the little critters are hungry.


Our house is a very, very, very fine house. With two cats, but not in the yard.

Praying in the company of Brother Sun, Sister Moon

Earlier today, I was out in our sun porch doing some gentle yoga in hopes of loosening up a nagging back muscle problem. As I stretched upward to begin a basic sun salutation, I realized I was looking up at my beautiful clay crescent moon, given to me by a good friend many years ago. Then later, as I turned to do a warrior pose, I noticed the clay sun hanging directly opposite. Suddenly all felt right with the world on this Feast of St. Francis of Assisi.
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Metamorphosis…

A sign? An omen? A “God breeze,” as one Facebook friend suggested? I don’t know if it’s any of these things, but this butterfly certainly made my night last night. The doorbell rang around 9 p.m., and, when I answered it, this beauty was fluttering around under one of our Adirondack chairs. As I took the manila folder full of medical forms my son’s Boy Scout leader was dropping off for our weekend camping trip, the butterfly flew out from under the chair and landed smack dab in the middle of the folder I was holding.

I was thrilled, calling for the kids to come look before it flew away. No worries there. It flew right into the entry way of our house and landed on the slate floor. Olivia gently picked it up, which is when I snapped that picture above. We brought it outside but it didn’t want to leave. We had to pry it — ever so softly — off Olivia’s hand and back onto the arm of the Adirondack chair.

I have to admit that it’s hard not to think of this little God moment as a good sign. I’ve never had a butterfly land on me, much less fly into my house. And at this time in my life, when so much is changing and expanding and challenging me, it feels like a very good omen. “Metamorphosis,” as another Facebook fan wrote.

Good vs. evil is often a subtle choice

This Monday morning got off to a hectic and somewhat frustrating start. Nothing major, just the usual mayhem with a couple of extra inconveniences added in. But that’s all they were really — inconveniences. Unfortunately, my glass-half-empty perspective makes mountains out of these kinds of molehills, and that just leads to more frustration, more mayhem, and all around unhappiness.

So after everyone left for school and while I was waiting for the repairman to show up and replace our smashed-in windshield, I decided to whip up some serious green juice and park myself in a deck chair for five minutes of sunshine and silent prayer along with my shot of chlorophyll.

As I read through Morning Prayer (in Give Us This Day), I got stuck on one line from Psalm 20:

“May the Lord answer you in time of trial.”

When I first came back to that line, I thought, “Yes, Lord, why don’t you help me in this time of trial?” As I reflected a little more and sat in silence looking up at the trees, I next thought. “Trials? Really? Nothing about your life is a trial.” And then I thought about all those people I know who have real, true, heart-breaking trials in their lives. Even at its absolute worst, there really isn’t anything about my current life that can be classified as a “trial.” I am blessed beyond measure and recognize that true trials could come at any moment. Yet I still tend to look at what’s around me and see the negatives.

So I asked God, “Why am I like this? Why did you make me this way?” Seriously. I said that out loud to the trees and sky and birds. Why can’t I express my gratitude with joy rather than fear. And that’s what it comes down to. Again. Fear. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always trying to prepare for the day when the blessings are pulled out from under me.

And I wondered — as I do on a regular basis — if it’s possible to change such a central part of my personality at such a late date. Not to change my true self but to become my true self, which I think is hidden under my cynicism and doubt and fear. I’ve made minor advances here and there over the years, but never a major breakthrough toward joy. Joy tinged with fear, but never straight-up joy.

As I sat, hesitant to go inside just yet despite lots of work piled up on my desk, I flipped to the day’s readings, which basically focus on good vs. evil, and a subsequent reflection by Sister Gail Fitzpatrick, OCSO. And I stopped cold. Clearly this was the line I was meant to read today, this was the reason I had lingered outside beyond my self-imposed time limit:

“Each of us knows the agony of daily choices that can lead to life and love, or to darkness and debilitating relationships. As individuals and communities we become who we are by the choices we make.”

“WE BECOME WHO WE ARE BY THE CHOICES WE MAKE.”

So I think that was the answer to my question about whether it’s possible to teach an old dog new tricks. Now I just have to focus on making the right choices, not necessarily when it comes down to the big stuff (I think I’ve got that part down for the most part) but when it comes down to the minor details, the stuff that makes or breaks everyday life at home with a family. In a sense, it’s my own personal battle with good vs. evil, light vs. dark. Not the stuff of superheroes, or even supermoms. Just the simple — and yet sometimes oh-so-difficult — decision to choose love.


Today, choose joy, choose life, choose blessings — even those blessings disguised as trials.