The Vocation of a Nation

Travel always reminds me, this country still holds within it, the promise, the hope of greatness, of nobility and opportunity (politics not withstanding).  As a nation, regardless of where you are in this land, we remain, a good, hopeful and eager to be something better type of people. Our neighbors matter, our cities matter, it's when we decide whatever it is, isn't our problem, rather than recognizing each of us have a stake in making this place better, that we fall into trouble.

When we stop being our brothers' keeper, when we think, "I pay taxes," therefore I've done my part, we become less than we're called to be as members of this nation.  

I still believe this country can do what is good, true and beautiful, because I know the people who live here, still want what is good, true and beautiful in their lives.   We dream big, we play hard, and we like to think that somehow, despite all our faults, deep down, we will find the courage to be people who when things get hard, do the right thing.  Even fifty years of living hasn't convinced me otherwise.  

So celebrate today with your family and friends. Eat, read the Declaration of Independence at the dinner table and be present to each other. Count your blessings which I hope are more numerous than the fireworks.   Enjoy the day.  

Then consider, what can you do to make wherever it is that you live in this country, better?  What can you do in this year of Mercy, to be kinder, more just, a better steward, a better caretaker of the rights and liberties, the freedoms this country holds dear?

What can you do to become more informed, and more of a voice to help take some of the acridity of politics away?  

What can you do to change the tone of the current discussion from constant name calling and petty insults, to something deeper and more in keeping with what we aspire to be, on a local, state and national level?

I recognize, the current way of things can make one want to just wash your hands and say, "A pox on both your houses," to the available offerings, or to just refuse to engage.  I know because it remains a temptation, to seek somehow to be neutral.  But lukewarm is never satisfying as a way of life, nor is it a solution to any problem.

The Catholic response to life, to struggle, to suffering, to injustice, to argument, to disagreement, to violence and to evil, is not to withdraw, but to heal, to help, to educate, to minister, to examine, to ponder, to repair, to apply grace to whatever endeavor or situation one experiences.

 If everyone who viewed the fireworks were to go and seek to put their talents toward the care taking of this nation and its people, the explosion of goodness would be bigger and longer lasting than any display we might watch this week, and more meaningful than any slogans or campaigns being offered this election cycle.   We'd move the nation and lead the leaders.  

Saint Catherine of Sienna said, if we would be who "God wants us to be, we would set the world on fire."     That's a calling to go out and act, and the purpose of every life. Imagine the world that would be.  

It isn't easy but the reality of that quote promises a life and world more luminous and beautiful.  It would also leave an impression more lasting than all the fireworks.  

Happy 4th of July!

Happy 4th of July

Happy July 4th!  

Today's a day one should take out the Declaration of Independence and read all of it to be reminded why we celebrate today, that the beginnings of our nation, was an address of grievances from an oppressive and overreaching state.  Some may argue, perhaps we turned a teapot's worth of difference into a tempest, but the result was a nation created to represent, and seek to represent an ideal. 

We haven't always lived up to that, and we've had vigorous and even bloody debate at time as to what it meant to be in this nation, but the goal of all people in this nation, regardless of race, gender, economics or politics, has been to somehow move the nation itself toward being a closer approximation of that ideal articulated in the self evident truths stated by Thomas Jefferson.  

I do not agree with all my nation does in my name, or with my treasures, or through its policies, but that does not make me any less a patriot than anyone else who holds this nation dearer than any other on earth.   We have much to be thankful for, even as we have much work to do, if this nation is to remain a city on the hill.    

If civil war was fought in ten thousand places, then civil union of this nation must take place in 100 million places, in the homes of every citizen, and on the internet.  To be one nation, we will have to seek and find the things which bind us together, rather than deal always with what pulls us apart.  

As long as we see any others as merely other...You're a democrat, You're a republican, You're white, You're any other race, you're immigrant, you're poor, you're rich, you're educated, you're not, you're....whatever it is that isn't me, we will continue to have friction and distrust.  Seeing beyond the convenient labels society or politics or current fashion likes to ascribe, will take an act of the will and a generous heart.   

Enjoy the fireworks, remember what they represent, actual battles fought, by actual Americans, not always for the noblest of meanings, but sacrificial none the less.  One of our greatest presidents understood, even those who fought against us for something that was wrong, consecrated the land with their blood and their sacrifice.   A reminder: 

 

Happy 4th.   

7 Quick Takes

1.  Happy 4th of July!   Having just spent this past Tuesday visiting the Baltimore Basilica for an upcoming article, I thought it important to remind people of these less famous words.

"The sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for, among old parchments, or musty records.  They are written, as with a sun beam in the whole volume of human nature, by the hand of the divinity itself; and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power." --Alexander Hamilton 1775

The Declaration of Independence was the promise; the Constitution was the fulfillment.  I have a pamphlet given to me by a woman back in 1994.  She served on the Commission on the Bicentennial of the United States Constitution, and created pocket Constitutions.  I've kept it ever since.  Every 4th of July, I ferret it out and read as much as time and situation allow.  If you don't have a copy, here's an excellent place to get one.  This is a document every American should read at least once in their lifetime, if not once a year, to remember how special and unique in history, this place aspires to be. 

 

2.  Small Success Thursday...again on Friday

 

So come and leave a link or a list of what you did this past week that deserves to be celebrated!

I know I should always link on Thursday, but yesterday we were celebrating my birthday!  I plead Chocolate Cake coma. 

 

3.  CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE THIS CAKE CAKE TAKES THE CAKE.  

Seven children yesterday really discovered this experience.  As such, today, there is one slice left, claimed by my theoretically super health conscious daughter, the one who made the cake!  Two don't like chocolate and one doesn't eat frosting so we will just ignore those standard deviations. 

 

My sister hooked me on The Pioneer Woman, here's her take.  My mom made this kind of cake for my birthday for years. It's my favorite and it takes a year to recover from the sugar intake but so so so worth it.  Failing to experience this may be considered an act of extreme willful deprivation.  I admire your steely willpower.   More for me. 

 

4.  This past week, in addition to traveling to Baltimore, feasting on chocolaty goodness and turning 48, we continued my mad quest to declutter our lives doing the 40 bags in 40 days which turns more into 40 bags in 120 days, (as I get to 40 about every two to three days), after which, I need a break.   But I see progress, and that's worth celebrating.   If you'd like to consider doing this sort of purge, and I recommend it, both emotionally and spiritually, they have a Facebook page here.

 

5.  Yesterday, to celebrate turning 48 and get to one of the things on our list, we went to Butler's Orchard and picked what can be also known as Anna and Marta's version of natural crack, blueberries.  We picked more than a bucket full and today, shall make pies.  

 

 

 

6.  Every mother of children who play musical instruments dreams of this: 

 

 

and this: 

 

 

 

and if we're honest with ourselves, we'll settle for this...

 

 

But what we mostly get...is that final scene from the Music man, which I searched for a clip but could not find. The internet has failed me. 

 

7.  All of which means, all of us including me, should go out and stop using the think system to enjoy life.   I'm going to make all of them break out their instruments and play something patriotic while we fire up the grill to make ribs, corn on the cob, and finish it with watermelon and pie. 

 

 

Have a great 4th!  

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

7 Quick Takes

1.  Happy Birthday to Me.  It's been a good week, complete with a completely indulgent trip to the bookstore with 120$ in gift cards to run amok spending.  Ahhhh.  A brand new stack of books on the dresser to read.  I feel sooooo much better, I'll go work on reading the book I already started, The Life of Pi.   Then I can tackle Dad is Fat, The Writing Life, Elegance of a Hedgehog, the latest by Terry Pratchett and The Night Circus. 

2.  Prayers for a friend's child who isn't a child, but who suffered a horrible accident this week and today, will lose his leg as  a result.  This is a hard thing for anyone to face, so I ask for all of you to pray for this young man, his sister, his parents, his friends, as they help him through this trial that will affect the rest of his life.   The family has the gift of faith, and they need their friends, both known and unknown, to pray for his healing.

3.  Today, I heard a young man playing a Cello as we walked from the bookstore, it is like the difference between a loaf of French bread you buy in a supermarket, and a loaf you find waiting for you at a bakery.  We forget in this age of saturated stimulation, the beauty of clean clear notes that are simply themselves.  May have to go plink on the piano a bit.  Then I will be reminded that all art is hard until it is easy. 

4. My daughter came in from a walk, she'd caught a boxer turtle.  Thus I spent the morning explaining why we were not going to own a reptile. My son caught some fireflies.  We could not keep them either.  I may have to stop encouraging them to go outside. 

5.  She can't read, but she knows the important things.   I had fallen asleep reading on the couch that always makes anyone who lies down on it fall asleep. She woke me by placing a can of cake frosting on my chest and saying, "Mommy?  I like chocolate."   I have only myself to blame. 

6. Yesterday, to celebrate the 4th of July, I put on some Kate Smith.  Didn't know God Bless America was arranged by George Gershwin.  My younger children gathered around just to listen, they got that this was something special. 

7.  Then I hit them with John Phillips Sousa, and I had a pantomime band going for an hour while we fixed dinner, listening to She's a Grand Old Flag, Stars and Stripes and the Washington Post. 

We topped it with barbecue, fireworks, looking for fireflies and constellations.  All in all, a perfect 4th of July.  I'd thought about writing a post about what we need to consider, discuss, fight and address in this country, but the 4th is a day for counting our blessings, all the rest of it can be tabled for another day, not as a means of ignoring our problems, but as a recognition that we are still, the freest people in the world, with the greatest opportunity, and a proud tradition of overcoming even our own worst impulses after trials. 

Fireworks Bluff

I always thought the fireworks were for me. My birthday is July 3rd, and so naturally it seemed that everyone including aunts, uncles and cousins would come to the beach for a weekend party, complete with a bonfire, all day fishing and fireworks at the end. I expected that every year I’d see everyone and we’d feast on Texas sheet cake and vanilla Bluebell ice cream. The cake would still be steaming from the icing that Mom would make, and I’d sit on the deck even if the mosquitoes were bad, drinking a sweaty coke-cola and eating from a paper bowl. The fireworks would go up and my birthday would end with a dazzling display while I petted our pet lab, Midnight who sat hoping I’d drop a bit of vanilla her way.


Most years, it happened like that and I loved it. Then, I turned sixteen.

Being stuck with countless cousins at a family beach house minus a single peer, even a related one, unable to get any rock-n-roll or persuade my crazy Uncle with the tattoos to change the station from Country Western, I did what any teen would do. I sulked around the house, moaning about how boring it was to be stuck at a place with no television, no stereo, no chance of real fun. The water was bad for fishing, too muddy, too rough even for redfish. Body surfing in the morning had left my arms and legs scraped from the shells and sunburned, which didn’t improve my adolescent mood.

Sensing my extreme displeasure, my uncle tried to cheer me up with the prospect of a bonfire that night. Momentarily, the gloom lifted, but a lightning crack over the water crushed that possibility before it could even start. So it was that my uncles performed an intervention on their sixteen year old niece and taught her poker. We spent the rest of the day in that un-airconditioned room at the giant butcher block table and I became the Queen of cards, though to be honest, I think they threw a few hands my way early on. My mother still served the cake but I scarcely noticed it as I was deep in a hand with a full house and wondering if my Uncle really had a straight or was just bluffing. With pennies, nickels and dimes on the line, it mattered and I found myself down to my last forty two cents.

I had three nines. Hardly a great hand but I was irritated and wanted to win more than anything. I put in a red chip, a dime and I watched as three of my uncles folded. My dad and Uncle Mike remained. He bumped the pot a dime. I met it. My dad bumped it a dime. Uncle Mike met it and I met it and bumped it my last twelve cents worth of chips. Dad folded. Uncle Mike met my bet. We then were given the opportunity to improve our hand. “How many cards do you want?” he asked.

“None.” I answered.

“None?” Uncle Mike looked at me. “You can’t improve your hand at all?”

It was a bluff, of course I could improve on three nines but the whole goal was to win and asking for two new cards at this point would have shown weakness. (That’s what I tell myself, but the reality was, I didn’t know what I was doing). Uncle Mike folded. I took the pot.

“Wait a minute. What did you have? Show your hand.” He demanded.

“Technically, Sherry doesn’t have to show you her hand since you folded.” My dad corrected his brother.

“Three nines.” I proudly announced.
The ribbing over being beaten by a niece over three nines by his four brothers was great. I had a second piece of cake and the cousins came in to say they’d managed to start a fire and were going to shoot off bottle rockets into the sea.

So today, when my teen came to me upset because they couldn't go to the movie they'd hoped (sold out), I knew of only one solution.  Poker anyone? 

You Should Remember to Remember This

Growing up in South East Texas, Independence day meant being lugged to mass, even if we were at the beach. It meant singing “God Bless America” at the end and hearing a woman who had probably practiced for two months try to imitate Kate Smith. We’d complain about it, being kids, but Dad maintained it set the importance of the day on remembering that this great gift of free will, of liberty, of independence does not come without a prior generation’s cost. He'd talk about how it will it not long endure if the current caretakers are ignorant of their past, of the present, or fearful of the future. We’d roll our eyes with that knowing 'Dad' look that only kids can give grownups who obviously don’t understand what is worth knowing.

After mass, Dad would drive us to the local grocery store, and we’d sit down at the picnic table outside with popsicles that melted faster than any of us could lick. He’d ask us either in the car or while we were licking off the sticky stuff, “What were the readings?” or even worse, “What did you think of the homily?” We soon learned to speed read the misselettes before leaving Church in case our kid minds had wandered during the Liturgy, but it didn’t help when July 4th fell on a non-Sunday. Then, he’d quiz us about our country and its history and offer suggested readings. We learned to pay attention or at least preemptively cram, if only to avoid the embarrassment of flunking the Popsicle quiz.

But Dad, being a crafty parent, employed further stealth. He waited as we grew older. We’d drive home, have lunch and be lounging over comic pages from the newspaper, idly discussing whether or not we wanted to play cards or go hunting for driftwood to build a bonfire, and he’d appear with the quiz questions. He’d say the summation of the reading and ask us what Father had said. But Homily Jeopardy often resulted in a goodly amount of sibling collusion, where we’d rack our adolescent sunburnt beachcombed brains for key words we’d remembered and hope that others would fill in the blanks.

He’d read the readings over again to us and hope something sunk in during the process. Then he’d slyly offer to play Trivial Pursuit and always pick history so as to, once again, engage in parental instruction about the importance of the day. I took to studiously avoiding the yellow squares, while my brother keenly pre-read every Trivial Pursuit card’s history question and answer. It never really mattered to Dad, he was just glad we were learning it, by osmosis or repetition or sheer stubborn adolescent desire to win.

It didn’t matter what the year was, the evening of the 4th meant piling into the largest car and sitting outside on the side of the freeway on top of it and watching the fireworks with my family. It felt cool and communal to sit under the stars with everyone I loved. I wished the shows would go on forever if only because I knew the next day, I’d be back to fighting with my two brothers and Dad would be back at work and the magic and beauty of having the whole country take a break and celebrate would be over. The 'connected with everyone' feeling would dissipate from the crowds as quickly as the smoke from the last explosion thinned into nothingness and everyone scrambled to their cars and began to complain about the traffic.

My father would hum songs and makes puns in between the various stars and bomb bursts and whistling rockets and after, trying to prolong the feeling, the moment of everyone being united and at peace with one another.

Today, as my husband and I scramble to load the car for mass and make sure everyone has matching shoes that fit and combed hair, so as to make it on time for three of our children to serve, I find myself tucking the Magnificat in my purse as we run out the door. Scanning the readings ahead of time so that if I am occupied by my children or my own wandering mind, I at least had a chance to read the wisdom I may not hear in my distraction. I want to know what I might otherwise miss, because I have been taught to recognize I could miss it.

I have even tossed out the Popsicle question on my kids over breakfast bagels. My kids know more than I did at their age -- about their country, about their government and about the need to be involved and engaged in the world -- but they too look sometimes shocked at me as they grope to remember all the things or some of the images presented during the mass. And when I begin to chide or lecture them about it, they give the look that only children can give to parents who want them to recognize something they think they already understand but don’t.

So this 4th of July, I intend to take my children to mass and sing my best Kate Smith imitation, and ask them afterwards about how our independence is secured and endowed by our Creator, and what the Priest said. And then, we’re going to sit outside on top of the cars so they can one day recognize that communion feeling of being surrounded by everyone they love, watching beauty explode outward overhead. Because the fireworks may fade but the memory of these moments, when everyone stopped and took pleasure in each other’s company, lasts longer than the Popsicles or the last rocket’s red glare, giving proof through the night that this people are still here.

I’ll hold onto each of them at some point, hoping that the grip of my hand in theirs helps seal in their hearts and minds, don’t miss the opportunity to remember this.*

Originally ran August 11, 2009