What He Asks of Us

In our journey of faith, one of the most powerful ways to connect with the God, our Father, is through prayer. When we take the time to listen through prayer, we open our hearts to receive guidance and wisdom from Him. Prayer has the ability to deepen our faith, as it allows us to express our innermost thoughts and concerns, and to seek solace and comfort in times of need. As we nurture our faith through prayer, we cultivate a deeper sense of trust and belief in something greater than ourselves.

Furthermore, as faith deepens, it naturally leads to the outpouring of love. As we learned from Mother Teresa, faith begets love, as we begin to understand our interconnectedness with all beings and the universal love that binds us together. Through prayer, we are reminded of the importance of love in our lives – love for ourselves, for others, and for the world around us. By listening through prayer and allowing our faith to grow, we are able to experience the transformative power of love in all aspects of our lives.

Mother Teresa's famous words, "Love until it hurts," encapsulate a profound truth about the nature of selfless compassion. When we choose to love and help others, we open ourselves up to the possibility of experiencing their suffering. It is a reminder that true love and compassion require us to extend ourselves beyond our comfort zones. Often, in the process of helping others, we may witness and even share in their pain and struggles. However, it is through this willingness to embrace suffering that we can truly make a difference in the lives of others. In the crucible of love and suffering, we are transformed, both in our capacity to give and receive love, and in our ability to empathize with the pain of others. Mother Teresa's message reminds us that it is through acts of love, even when they involve suffering, that we can find true fulfillment and purpose in life.

In the journey of spiritual growth, one of the key aspects is the renewal of our mind through

transformation. By renewing our minds, we open ourselves up to understanding and aligning with the will of God. As we allow our minds to be transformed, we begin to gain clarity on what is perfect and acceptable in the eyes of God. This process of renewal is essential in deepening our relationship with God and in living a life that is in harmony with His will. It requires openness, humility, and a willingness to let go of old ways of thinking that may not serve our faith journey. As we embark on this transformative journey, we can trust that God's will for us, which is perfect and acceptable, will be revealed to us in profound and meaningful ways.

Running Away

 On December 29, 2023, I ran away.  Seven years I’ve lived in a very rural and impoverished community, and have felt such sadness, loneliness, and joy, and moments of grace.  I’ve gained two more grandchildren, lost one family member, found a small circle of friends, and I’ve been able to focus on what I love which is writing.  This road has brought me to studies of my Faith; I’ve discerned that my Gift of the Holy Spirit is creativity and in particular, writing.

                I’ve been writing for decades but it has been for the sheer pleasure of it.  In the early days of my writing, I shared it on blogs and photography became its constant companion.  But, one day in 2017, I found myself in a different world from anything I ever experienced.  My writing started to form a purpose and eventually, for 18 months, I wrote for a weekly newspaper writing about my observations of my adopted world and its contrast to everything I knew.  Eventually it took the form of a book, “A California Girl Meets the Bootheel”, and readers, especially the locals, loved seeing their world through my eyes rediscovering, if you will, their world that they took for granted.  Their normal was not my normal.

                With time, a new rhythm of life asserted itself.  I accepted that ease of movement, both literally and figuratively, would not be mine anymore.  Healthcare matters became a serious issue. Beyond one primary physician none were near at hand.  Every healthcare matter necessitated a trip to somewhere else.  Recovering from illness and injuries was not easy; choices were limited.  Physical therapy was, literally in another state.  One other unexpected change that hit me here was my inability to orient myself. To this day, I get lost.  Everywhere, it is flat.  A wrong turn can send me across the river into another state, down a gravel/dirt road and onto a levee, or heading north when I thought I was heading west.  As a consequence, I rarely drive anywhere by myself.  Relying on my GPS will not necessarily get me going in the right direction.  It’s just that rural.

                So, on December 29, 2023, I ran away.  Our son lives in Indianapolis with his wife and I desperately needed to revive my spirit.  I had things to think about, write about, to reorient myself to.  After seven years, my place in the world was beginning to feel on solid ground again.  It really never did feel that way, truth be told, but now I wanted it and with the grace of God, it started to be mine.  I had this idea that two weeks in Indianapolis, Indiana with my son and daughter-in-law would open a floodgate of possibilities.  I intended to Uber around Indy while Q and Erin were at work.  There was a coffee house to explore and write at.  Shops that I had absolutely zero access to at home or anywhere near home waited for me with open arms.  I would be refresh, revitalized, made new.  My husband would be a very happy man when I returned home.  But, you know what they say about making plans?  Life happens.  And, life, did indeed, happen.  I had plans. God wagged His finger at me.

                My trip to Indianapolis has become a testing ground for patience and humility.  My right leg was aching badly on the morning we left for the six hour drive north.  A nagging headache started to reassert itself and would not subside. My knees chose this time to rebel and my balance became compromised.  My intention to call my doctor for an appointment when I returned home moved up quickly to visiting a sports medicine clinic in the city.  And. Of course.  I tripped on the way into the examination room injuring myself to the point that I now cannot walk safely without a walker.  Now into my fifth day of hobbling around, I find myself reading my Bible, my catechism, my inspirational books, reflecting on the “why now” question, and just generally being grateful that I’m in a situation where I’m safe and well-cared for.  My husband, God love him, would have done all that my son and daughter-in-law have done and I’m relieved that it all happened here so he could wrap up some important matters of his own without having to deal with me on top of it all.

                All the drama of Wednesday afternoon and the big trip that landed me with a walker was topped off by snow overnight.  This, of course, created a whole other series of possibilities.  Would it snow more?  Would there be ice?  Was I to be housebound so early into my sojourn?  The angst was real but oddly enough, so was the joy.  The snow was unblemished, beautiful, a source of sheer comfort and delight.  The snow did silently melt away but it took about 4 days.  In that time, my knees relaxed and strengthened and with great care, I can go outside and up or down a step/curb to go to and from a car.  But, there will be no Ubering for me.  I must stay put if family isn’t around.  And the worst part is that I had one plan that I have not mentioned here.  I was going to go on a two night retreat at a local Catholic retreat center.  That, as well, is off the table.  But it’s not so bad.  Work time for them means much time I can spend with writing, which was my objective at the retreat center.  Hence, I can still  achieve my objective, I’ll just need to do a work around.  God had other ideas.  These knees need to be fixed and He forced me to look at that while still affirming that writing for Him to share to others was still in my plan.

                

And the Rosary Sings

 For as long as I can remember, I've been writing poetry and especially Haikus.  I don't follow strict rules of subject matter but I do try to follow the 5-7-5 pattern.  Sometimes, as in the fourth stanza here, it doesn't work.  The mood I'm reaching for needs more.  Then I simply, without apology, take poetic liberty.

 

Chilly. Windy. Fresh.

The river invited me and

The Rosary sings

 

My lips murmured 

My heart gathered strength and

The Rosary sings

 

Quietly sitting

All my efforts finished

The Rosary sings

 

Sunlight pours on sand

Clouds spread, inky light darkens

But . . .

The Rosary continues to sing

Originally published in catholic365.com

Poem of Protest, #10 - O Jerusalem: Grief and Lamentation

Years ago I wrote several poems of protest as I raged against society and corrupt politics.  In the years since then, I have drawn closer to my Faith, traveled elsewhere in the country to experience a domestic mission, became a grandmother four times over, uprooted myself late in life, and watched the world change for the worse.  

My life now centers on hope, prayer, and peacemaking.  I'm not very good at it.  Or perhaps it's not that I fail, but that others fail to hear.  In this time of tearing conflict, when black is white and white is black, I look back on those poems of protest and O, Jerusalem especially called to me.  At the end of 2023 A.D., the suffering in Jerusalem and of the Jews has not changed.  In over 4,000 years, hearts have not softened, minds have not matured, and love and wisdom has not taken their rightful place side by side in the hearts of mankind.

O, JERUSALEM

Temple Mount
Four thousand year veneration
 Judaism, Christianity, Islam
Eleven entrance gates guarded by guns
Ten for Muslims, one for Others
O, Jerusalem

God manifested
Birthplace of Talmud
Birthplace of Adam
Neighbor to the binding place of Isaac
Temple Mount, Stronghold of Zion
O, Jerusalem

Temple Mount
Home of Jewish Temples
Center for  national life
Government, law, religion, economy
O, Jerusalem

First built by Solomon
Destroyed by Babylonians
Second built by Zerubbabel
Destroyed by the Romans
O, Jerusalem

The third still to be built
Holy of Holies
Lost in a sea of stone
O, Jerusalem

Temple Mount
Central importance
from age to age
Usurped by Holy Sepulcher
O, Jerusalem.

Christians left, nature destroyed.
third temple effort
Suffering neglect out of respect
O, Jerusalem

Temple Mount
Seventh-century rubble heap
Muslim conquest
Recovery, Renew, Reclaim
O,  Jerusalem

Dome of the Rock
Al Alsqa Mosque
Occupier of Holy of Holies
O, Jerusalem

Grief and lamentations
Hatred your tool of contempt and power
International body, you had NO right
O, Jerusalem

O, 

Turning A Page

It's mid-November and I've turned 76 years old.  I remember when my mom turned 75 and I had a t-shirt painted for her that said "This is what 75 looks like".  I loved that t-shirt.  She hated it and never, ever wore it.  Was I disappointed? Yes.  Do I wish I had that t-shirt? YES.  I'm proud of my age and proud that I have arrived at 76.  Maybe that's because I've unconsciously struggled for many years to accept that I'm a lovable person but after all these years, but especially the past 7 years, life has become very sweet.

I don't think my mom ever had that turning point in her life.  If she did, she never spoke of it.  She never shared it in even an indirect way.  There was a loneliness about her that I picked up from her and applied to myself.  But, without going into a lot of soul sharing, suffice it to say that finally, at the age of 70, I started the journey that got me where I am today.  

The written word has always been important to me.  Getting lost in reading a good book was my hiding place.  I never went anywhere without having a book with me.  My purse always had to be large enough to hold the basics and a paperback book.  With the advent of cell phones, I dove into reading online through the Hoopla and Libby apps via my library card.  Reading cranked up several notches.  The titles I purchased became more discerning, and my own personal writing became more focused.

Don, my pirate, as I lovingly call him, thanked me for this switch to eBooks for several reasons.  (1.)  I spent less on books; (2.) My Amazon wish list became shorter  but more refined. (3.)  Gift giving was made simple and he knew he would always get it right. And (4.) After I and our daughter BOTH urged him to make his own Amazon Wish List, I think he  finally started listening.  At least I hope he did.

Anyway, back to the point.  When we left California in 2017, I was still blogging but once I arrived at our new home, everything shifted.  My writing helped me focus on the adjustments I had to make to a new and very different life.  Leaving everything that I knew and a small circle of friends for a world where I knew absolutely no one led me to my own personal understanding of the phrase "Stranger In A Strange Land" (Exodus 2:22)  Engaging myself in the local Roman Catholic parish opened the doors to friendship and having been born and raised in California, the first question I got from everyone was "Why in the world did you move here?"  As I got to know this new world and they got to know me (I felt like a new and fun toy at times) I found myself falling in love with the kindness and amiability of the people I was meeting.  My lack of history ran smack into their decades of history with each other and with patience and forebearance I was shown how to connect the dots that is life in a small town.

Soon I had so many stories written, little vignettes of life here as opposed to life back home, I decided to share them in our local weekly newspaper.  For 18 months I submitted weekly columns and the readers lover them.  Stranger would stop me on the street and tell me how they were seeing this little town through a whole new set of eyes and were redeveloping an appreciation for their home.  Eventually, the series concluded but it now lives on in it's own book entitled "A California Girl Meets the Bootheel".  That moment of publication was the moment that I started to sharpen my focus and over time and a few workshops, I found what I liked, a style I felt comfortable with.  

In time, I started to create small writings that centered on prayer, meditations, devotionals, observation on life around me, faith and family.  A website, Catholic 365 came knocking.  Someone found one of my old blogs from 13-14 years ago, liked what they saw, and sent me an invitation to join their community of writers.  After three weeks of thinking about it, I decided to give it a try and you can now find me writing at Catholic 365. I will still be writing here but now it is becoming a place to try out new ideas that I can put out for exploration and be refined for and contributed to my new community of writers.

It's been a long time . . .

 . . . since I've visited this blog.  More than six months have passed.  Sometimes there's just nothing to say or perhaps it is expressed in another way.  But today I'm posting something.  It originally came out as a letter to the editor in my local small town newspaper, but here it arrives as recordkeeping.  Some things need to not get lost.

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Letter to the Editor of the Pemiscot Press

Rivergirl Reflections

from Annie Jeffries

Anyone who has lived to my age completely and entirely knows the ins and outs of kids and adults fundraising.  We all remember back to mid-century and girls selling Girl Scout cookies.  Then schools, in general, got involved with fundraising to augment shrinking education dollars.  And, we all know the teachers who spend their own money to create a stimulating learning environment for their students.  Whether it’s scouting, business and social organizations, schools, churches, or whatever, we all have experienced the “Would you be interested in buying . . . “ question.  We did it.  Our children did it.  Our grandchildren and in some case, great-grandchildren are doing it.  And we are supporting and helping them in their fundraising endeavors.

 

Fundraising, from the general public, has become woven into the fabric of our day to day lives.  Friends, family, booths at local events, and places where people gather are all in the sights of fundraising and there is nothing wrong with that.  As long as the person doing the approaching is polite, I don’t have a problem with it.  However, the person selling a raffle ticket, for example, has a reasonable expectation of a courteous response.  A simple “No, thank you”, is always the right response if you are not going to say yes. 

That being said, a couple of recent incidents have come to my attention that were so egregious that I just could not keep my mouth shut.  Some place along the line of our ever evolving social media world and 24 hour newscycling, we have lost our manners. Using the word “manners” may sound old fashion but, say what you will, that is exactly what it is.  How we address people – is it polite or impolite?  Too many thoughtlessly people say hurtful words and then let them fall where they may.

Two friends recently, on three separate occasions were reduced to tears when a simple “No, thank you”, would have sufficed.  It could have just as easily been me as the target since we all happen to be involved in the same fundraising activity.  It wasn’t but since I’m not one to keep my mouth shut anymore, I’ve decide to call out bad behavior.

It is NOT OKAY to threaten, aggressively question, spout idiotic opinions that have nothing to do with the reality of a particular matter, or intimidate someone.

It is NOT OKAY to brush off anything she has to say back and reduce her to tears. 

It is NOT OKAY for people around you to remain silent and let you get away with bad behavior.  “Oh, that’s just so and so being so and so” Does. Not. Cut. It.  You are as shameful as he was because you remained silent.

It is never okay to be disrespectful, discourteous, impolite, inconsiderate, abrupt, deliberately thoughtless, or ungracious.  Being nasty is inexcusable and just makes you plain rude.  In the future, just say “No, thank you”.

 

 

Wordless Wednesday