There Will Be Joy in Mudville

Last night, we went on a date to a sports bar for dinner.  We watched the Nats limp through 4 innings where they gradually gave up enough runs to whittle a 6-0 lead down to 1 in the fifth and final game of the playoff.  Driving home, we listened on  the radio.  We are still sick with the knowledge the Nationals ended their season in a painful 9-7 loss to the Cardinals.   The O's also had their run for the World Series destroyed by the Yankees this dark Friday.   To watch and love baseball is to know at any moment, it may be glorious and also, at any moment, your heart shall be broken.   It is part of the "of course it's hard. That's what makes it great." zen poetry of this sport. 

However this morning, my husband explained why this particular loss has more cosmic consequences than that beltway residents now must face only the perpetually disappointing Redskins and the dull soul sucking pain of election year politics:

My fellow baseball fans,

Seven hours removed from the disaster of the Nats' historic collapse at the hands of the Cards, and the O's anemic loss in New York, I have reached a conclusion:

Perhaps when the the Yankees meet to do battle in St. Louis in what will prove to be a fateful Game 7, the Mayans will finally be proven correct.

After 512 innings of improbable comebacks, 350 hits by heretofore unknown journeyman, 75 over -the-wall game saving catches, and 43 combined home runs between Ibanez and Descalso, the last man on the Yankees' bench, Alex Rodriguez, finally gets into the game, not as the highest paid hitter in history, but as a pitcher trying hold the Bronx Bombers' 1 run lead.

As A-Roid angrily strides toward the mound to face David Freese, the New Madrid fault line finally ruptures, sucking not only Busch Stadium but the entire planet into a black hole as every last ounce of the Earth's luck will have finally run out.

Wait 'til next year. If there is one.

Prayers for Japan

I had a funny piece in my head but it can wait.  I've watched the video of the water sweeping over the farms and sending the SUV's bobbing along like children's toys in a tub and find it is amazing how quickly we forget that all of life can change in an instant.  The very ground we walk on is not stable.  They say this was one of the biggest recorded earthquakes in history and it looks horrible.  The Anchoress has pictures and video, as does Hot Air.  My heart is in my mouth as I see the whirlpool and the videos and the still pictures of what happens when the earth and sea are not still. 

Today is Friday and for those who pray the Rosary, today we focus on the sorrowful mysteries.  The howl of that nation as whole towns, whole histories, whole communities were lost, certainly echoes the agony of the garden.  For the rest of us, we have the hard grace of being reminded that we are helpless and small and mortal and dust, and that the only thing we can do, and oddly, it is the most powerful thing we could do, is get to our knees and pray hard.

Praying to those who hold faith and the sacred in contempt looks like doing nothing.  Prayer however is our non sacramental way of reaching out to God and allowing Him to penetrate our soul.  It is time we set apart that is wholly devoted to Not this world.  The world is a jealous mistress that resents any moments we spend recognizing that she is not all that; so she crowds our heads with emails and tweets and phone calls and worries and chores and cuts and bills and dust and unexpected hassles and errands and illnesses and death and destruction on a scale we can scarcely imagine.

"See all of this?" she hisses.  "How could God Be if He allows this?"  Recognize you are being called to pray for the end of all of that, and to work in your own way to alleviate what you can of what the world inflicts.  Imagine if everyone freely sought to live out the Beatitudes.

And if you still believe and still seek to pray, she hisses "See all of this?" and she shows you the sick, the dying, the suffering, the poor and the destroyed.  "Why Should God Listen to Your Prayers? And why would you waste God's time on your trivial matters?" If your matters are serious, She reminds you of how many people in the world need and how not good or deserving you are.  "Why should you merit a miracle?" She spits.  None of us do but Christ did not measure our worth by the world's measures and still doesn't.

And if you still believe in trying after that, she hisses, "Bet the answer is No!" and that's when we have to swallow and recognize that because we believe that God doesn't just exist but loves us in an all infinite encompassing way, that we are heard. God's answer is God's answer. He always answers every prayer with greater love. We do not know the prayers of any heart but our own, and those, we should fearlessly place before God.


And then, there is God's time which is not our time.  As a child and adolescent, I must have begged, petitioned and cried for friends a thousand times.  I asked and asked and asked while I trudged to high school and walked the halls aching for someone to want to talk to me.   I prayed to have a lot of people love me (a vain prayer to be sure but I was a teen and it is what every teen aches for, not popularity --that is the error of youth, but for community).  And now I have these eleven people who crowd my day and there is always someone to talk with, to listen to, and who smiles when they see me and all I can think is Lavish and Thank you and More Lavish and Thank You. 

So as I look at the devastation, I am reminded of this great beauty, this fragile gorgeous life we have, all these gifts like a son's birthday, a daughter crawling into your bed late at night, and the early morning sounds of chirping birds.  We have this gift of today, of this second and the next and the next.  So hug your children and your spouse tightly today.  Tell your parents you love them and reach out to your friends. Joyfully embrace your Lenten fast and breathe deeply the air of this March 11th and pray for those who died and those who live on and must pick up the pieces. 

He is with them and He is with us.  Our hearts break for these people; mend theirs and ours.

Too Much Perspective

Comedy is stress with perspective.

A few weeks ago, we paid our quarterly taxes using a credit card so we could save the prerequisite amount of funds owed to Uncle Sam. Due to various fiscal issues, we found we would need a loan to cover the difference and immediately set about at that point filing the paperwork to get a loan from ourselves via our 401k. One would think that securing a secure amount of money from a secure place where the bank would be taking no risk would take almost no time. Not so. With four days left, we were feeling rather nervous about getting hit with the high interest rate for not paying our bill but the check arrived and off we went to the bank.

It was after five, so I used the ATM. No biggie right?

Wrong.

Biggie.

BIGGIE.

You see, if you deposit a check at a teller, the funds even if they are large, are available sooner. If you deposit a check via an ATM, the funds are held until the check is verified and scanned. Meaning, A deposit on Friday is not looked at until Monday and possibly not scanned until Wednesday. Bill due Monday. Check arrived Friday. We didn’t know this, but we weren’t worried as I intended just to wait for Monday and pay by phone.

Monday, I called my card billing number. I explain that I’d like to pay by phone and give the necessary information to “SET IT UP.”

Thinking about the check, I paused and said, “Wait a minute, let me call my bank on the other line to make sure the check has cleared before we authorize the full amount.” I’d already begun pushing buttons on my home phone. It was then the man said, “I’m sorry, you can’t change the amount. The charge goes through at midnight and once you gave me the information it cannot be rescinded, altered or denied.” and I began to gain perspective.

“But I didn’t say “Yes, that’s my final answer.” Shouldn’t you guys have a “Are you sure you want to do this before you give a warning shot that things can’t be changed?” “When you give the account information, that is tacit approval.” “What about explicit disapproval?” No answer.

“So basically, I’m going to get popped for the overdraft I didn’t yet authorize by you on money I do have which the bank doesn’t want to acknowledge, which will also get me popped by the bank.”

“Yes. But we're not unsympathetic, we’ll wave the late fee.”

After an hour of going round and round including an unpleasant point when I lost it completely and then wondered if the call being recorded would be broadcast on the news. "Woman sobs insanely on the phone for hours..." I finally persuaded him say he'd send an email to the banking department requesting a change. He suggested I call my bank to see if they would release the funds so all would be well. Not seeing an alternative solution, I hung up and called the bank.

Two years ago, I could have gotten a 100K home equity loan from a five minute phone call. Today, I cannot get the bank to link my credit card which THEY issued me to my account without a five day waiting period. It takes longer to get a loan than to gain approval to buy a gun. Meaning if I held them up, I’d get access to my money faster. I also decided spending too much time on hold is not healthy for one's moral compass.

The absurdity of not having access to actual money I had loaned myself so I could pay a bill which as a result would have me overdraft at midnight on funds the bank refused to acknowledge but which I actually had was making my head spin. I finally asked over the phone if the woman could see the absurdity of the situation. Instead of answering, she suggested I call back the credit card place.

Calling the credit card place again, the woman immediately said she’d file a report with the banking department for review. I decided not to complicate matters by saying that had already been done. Instead I asked to speak to the banking department. She said there wasn’t an actual banking department but that my request would be reviewed. I asked who would be the reviewer. She said she didn’t know but she’d filed a report. I asked who got the report she filed. She said she didn’t know but they’d look at it within 48 hours. I said could I talk to one of the people who looks at the reports but isn’t part of the banking department because it doesn’t exist but does the reviewing of the email reports for review because I only had 8 hours with which to work. She said no again. I asked for the supervisor. She said there wasn’t any but I could call back in a few hours to see if my request had been reviewed.

At this point I needed perspective. I called Mom.

She suggested going to the bank where I had a friend. Lugging three children into a place that likes business attire did not sound like fun but it was now 2 o’clock, I’d been at this since 10 and wouldn’t sleep that night if this wasn’t resolved in a way where I felt our assets were secure. The bank has all these signs that say “We’re here to help. To solve problems. Money at the touch of a button, at the end of a phone line.” I signed in to talk to the bank representative.

Clearly shaken by the pre-school set in his office, the man listened to my story and suggested I take my credit card to the teller, take out a cash loan from my card and use that to secure the necessary funds to prevent an overdraft that evening if the credit card made good on its promise. The interest would be 19.9% with a 4% transaction fee on top of that, meaning I could take out another loan on myself for a usury agreement to cover money I actually had until the bank agreed to let it go. “You don’t use a gun but…” I thought to myself and the tiny vindictive part of me was glad that my two girls had gone through three lollipops each and left the wrappers on their carpet. I privately hoped one of the suckers would get stuck to a wall or something. I left the bank and decided to call back the credit card company again.

This time, I got another woman and she said, “There have been several reports about your account. The change was put through.” And just like that, tragedy became comedy. Getting to the school for pick up, I visited with another mother telling her the whole story. She said, “You know, you made my day.” She’d in a hurry to get to her daughter’s pre-school because they charge 5 dollars a minute after the first ten minutes for pick up time and took a corner too quickly. My guess is they’re frustrated bankers. She showed me the side of her mini-van.

“I was worried about 25$.” She said.

The side of her door was crushed in at the bottom and unable to open. “Now, I have about a $2000.00 repair.”

“Did the pre-school still hit you with the fee?”

“No. And so I don’t mind the door as much.”

And I thought about all of it and how laughter is a state of profound grace that allows us to tolerate the intollerable, to endure suffering and struggling, minutia and big things with a poise that otherwise would not be possible.

Next time I'm going to laugh first. It's cheaper and way less stress.