Doing my sums--Anthony and Ron

When you're an Episcopal priest a good part of your life is involved in being present at rather important moments of peoples' lives: baptism, confirmation and reception into this particular (and peculiar!) branch of the Holy Catholic Church, marriage, sick rooms, celebrations, funerals.

And, from time to time, you experience both in a short amount of time. Like today.

At 10 a.m. I was the celebrant at the baptism of Anthony Salvatore (just as a clue "Anthony" and "Salvatore" shows up in lots of the males of this family). And at 3 p.m. I was present at the celebration of the life of my good friend and one time colleague, Deacon Ron Cebic, who died in October.

A lot of what a priest 'does' is to 'be'. Just that. Be in the moments of peoples lives. I'm convinced that if priests (and other professional religious folks) would do and little less 'doing' and 'be' a tad more, they would be happier and, in addition, more effective. "Doing" on a regular basis will drive clergy types into 'clergy burnout' (a thriving cottage industry, by the way). While spending time 'being' is full of healing and reconciliation and wonder. (That's just me talkin', by the way. It's not the Truth.)

Little Anthony is the son of a friend of Howie, one of the most active members of St. James Church in Higganum, one of the three little churches I serve. With Salvatore being a common name in the family, I can only assume that many of the family are what I call "recovering Roman Catholics"--off the addiction but always in recovery. Since Anthony is almost a year old, if they were going to have his baptism be Roman Catholic, it would have happened already. (Two of his grand-parents told me they could 'rest easy' now that Anthony was baptized.)

I'd never met Anthony and his family before this morning. Howie is the "baptismal minister" of St. James and does the preparation and all that. In fact it is Howie and the parents and god-parents which actually do the baptism, pouring the water while I try to say, v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, "We baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost". (Baptisms are the only time I use that language for the Trinity. Normally I say "God, our Creator; Jesus, our Savior, and the Holy Spirit, our Companion.") But baptisms deserve the ancient language since it is an ancient rite.

What a great group of people were there. Family from both sides--full of life, loving toward each other, joyful for Anthony.

(One of the on-going and probably never-ending arguments I have with other priests is this: I would never, ever, not even in eternity DENY baptism to anyone. Many other priests have higher standards than mine. My standard is this--you want to be baptized or you want your child baptized...I'll do it. Period. The privilege of smearing oil and declaring that someone is 'marked as Christ's own forever' is humbling and blessed. I think the sacraments really MEAN SOMETHING, so how could we deny them to anyone? They are God's sacraments, not the church's.)

And who knows, someday they might wander back to St. James. And even if they don't, 'hospitality' is the work of the church.

Ron Cebic was a Congregational Minister who, when he got his first pension check from the Congregational Church, felt free do do what he always wanted to do--become an Episcopalian! His father and (I believe) his grandfather were Congregational ministers. It was the family business. But when he retired, he became a part of the Episcopal church. And, eventually, was ordained a Deacon.

He came to work at St. John's, Waterbury when I was there. He was also a accredited therapist, which made our relationship, in some ways, problematic. He was always 'thinking psychologically' about the parish and the members and I almost never thought that way. He would want 'interventions' and I would want to 'do nothing'. Those were interesting years.

Ron was also highly organized and thought I was too likely to 'wing it'. (The truth is, I never 'wing it', I always know what I'm doing. I just think the appearance of 'making it up as you go along' brings out the best in others.) Once we were about to strip the altar on Maundy Thursday and Ron was worried that we hadn't had a 'run through'. I told him it would be fine. And it was...more than fine. And in the vesting room afterwards he said, almost unbelieving, 'that really worked!' The lack of rehearsal and 'run through' brought out Ron's creativity. I think he was thankful for the experience.

Ron developed a rare and debilitating disorder while working with us at St. John's. It looked for all the world like Parkinson's disease, but actually wasn't. He called it 'faux Parkinson's'. It took him from a strong man full of words and presence, to a man in a wheel-chair communicating with a computer. And he bore it all with wondrous grace and good humor. For a dozen years or more, he learned to live in a different way--a totally different way--and became expert in living that way.

At the memorial today, Ron's son talked about how his disability made him laugh more. And it did. He laughed at his own debilitation, at the irony of life's problems, at most everything.

I told Ron's son afterwards that I know very few, if any people, who would adjust and transform and become bigger than their disease the way Ron did. I hope I never have to find out if I can. And I've known only two or three people who rivaled Ron in dealing/coping/overcoming such remarkable disabling circumstances.

(Once, 5 or 6 years into his disease, we were having lunch. He still could walk with a cane but had to be careful what he ate since his swallowing was compromised. I am a very clumsy person and during lunch, I knocked over my water glass, making a proper mess.

Ron laughed, just as his son said, long and hard and then said, since he could still speak but very slowly and deliberately, "that's how it started for me...."

Who but Ron could joke about his own disability in such an ironic way? We laughed together for a long time.)

Anthony and Ron on the same day. What a privilege to be with them both. What a wonder to know Anthony at the beginning of his life and remember Ron after he's moved from glory to glory.

I wrote in my last post about a character in a novel 'doing his sums' and what he meant was 'counting his blessings'.

Today, in doing my sums, I count the blessings of Anthony and Ron, count them well and give great thanks.

how things go....

I'm often "almost" (and I put "almost" always in parentheses ) embarrassed  by how good my life goes when not many can claim that.

But I'm not.

What if 'how things go' for you and me is a choice we make? How would that be?

What if we choose to find life 'good' in spite of the nooks and crannies that show up?

What if that were true?

This I know: I have a lot of pain these days. My joints hurt to beat the band--and I'm usually not good with pain. But I push on and find what goes good and value that more than what goes bad.

I just read a novel by Louise Penny, my new favorite writer, A Rule Against Murder, that had a character named Mr. Finney who is rejected by almost everyone and is described as the ugliest man ever by the novelist. He tells the main character, a detective in Quebec named Gamache, that he is sitting by the lake of a Canadian resort, "doing his sums".

Finney is an accountant married to a very rich woman and Gamache assumes Finney is thinking about money.

Later in the novel, Finney tells Gamache that "doing his sums" is no more than "counting his blessings". This horribly ugly, rejected man finds reasons to be full of joy by 'counting his blessings'.

What if we choose to find life 'good' in spite of the ugliness and rejection of it all?

What if that were true.

The reason I'm 'almost' embarrassed by how good my life is when I 'do my sums' is that I'm white, middle-class and have loved the same woman for nearly 50 years and have two great children and three marvelous granddaughter and live, for God's sake, in Cheshire, Connecticut. How could my life not be good?

But for many white, middle-class people in Cheshire, life doesn't 'show up' as 'good'.

What if the quality of life we experience is a choice?

I've met people who come from horrid circumstances who, I think, 'choose' to have life be 'good' and live and lean into the goodness. Their 'sums', their blessings turn out--by their 'choice' to be more than what is bad.

Ponder all that.

What if 'joy' is a choice we make rather than the circumstances we encounter?

What if that's true?

Something to ponder that would turn the way we think about life upside-down. Choice trumping circumstance would be something to write home about...and the shout to the heavens....

The Blizzard came...sort of....

We were really lucky in south-western Connecticut--unlike Long Island, eastern Connecticut, Rhode Island, most of Massachusetts, and northern New England.

About 7 inches here--just far away from the coast which the storm hugged through the state. Not the 2 feet we'd been promised. But some promises are BEST when broken....The only electricity lost in CT was because a plow truck hit a tree somewhere that fell into the lines!

The snow's going to be around for a while since it doesn't seem it will be above freezing for the rest of the week and there might be more on Friday.

I told Bern that Stop and Shop should sponsor storms. I went there Monday afternoon and it was a mad house, truly. I hadn't intended to buy bottled water but noticed there was no water left except for on case of 24 16oz. bottles. So, I bought it, not knowing exactly why except I was drawn in by the frenzy of post Blizzard shopping.

It will last us a year, I predict. The only time we drink bottled water is on long trips.

I went back to Stop and Shop after the roads had been somewhat cleared today. Still no water and almost no bread. Bread and water was going to be the diet during the Blizzard, I guess.

This winter has really been gentle so far...but let me find some wood to knock on....

Waiting for The Blizzard

Today has passed mostly without incident.

Bern went out early to mail bills and pay our property tax at Town Hall.

I slept until 10!

I took the Puli out and we both had breakfast.

I took the Puli to the Canal and he barked all the way there and then didn't want to get out of the car until I pulled him out. He did his business and we walked a bit and then came home. He barked all the way home and didn't want to get out of the car until I pulled him out. Anxious about The Blizzard, I suspect.

I went out to get a few things and when I saw there was only one 24 pack of water in all of Stop and Shop, I bought it, though 'water' wasn't on my list.

I didn't have lunch until 2.

I fed the cat and dog at 3.

I played Hearts on my computer and Bern played Solitaire on hers. We heard from Mimi who drove from Brooklyn to Stockbridge this morning. Arrived safe.

I did some email--meeting with the bishop tomorrow canceled, of course--because of The Blizzard.

Waiting for The Blizzard is beginning to get old.

Bern made a pot of chicken soup (she called it 'Blizzard Soup' with potatoes, corn, carrots, celery and spinach) which was wondrous but enough to feed a minion. "We need sustenance," she told me, "for The Blizzard."

I'm tired of waiting for The Blizzard. As much as I won't like it, I wish it would happen already, so I didn't have to pass the time 'waiting' for it.

Like that.

my weather junkie....

Bern is a Gen-U-Ine 'weather junkie'. Much of today she has been dancing around about the "Blizzard of 2015", which seems to be baring down on us here in CT. A foot or more of snow, 50 mph winds, just short of Armageddon.

And Bern loves it.

She went to the store today for Kind Bars (which she loves), chips and, unfortunately, not batteries. Our flashlights need them greatly. Maybe I'll go in the morning before the end of the world comes.

She makes up songs about the blizzard and I even heard her downstairs talking to our dog about how he didn't need to worry, we'd stay with him and not go to a shelter....

I mean, really....

I like weather in moderation at all times. Bern is energized by major weather events.

Go Figure.

At least she does a lion's share of the shoveling...

Oh, my Lord, it's getting better and better...

I just read an interview online with Sarah Palin (remember her? How could you forget?) in which she said she was considering entering the race for the Republican nomination in 2016. How much more fun could it be?

I mean the huge field might just get larger and a little weirder.

Mitt Romney and Jeb Bush being the most reasonable in a group is interesting enough. Add in Scott Walker, Gov. Perry of Texas, Sen. Cruz of Texas, the black retired neurosurgeon who's named is escaping me, Bobby Jendel, Rand Paul, Chris Christy, Rick Santorium (for Christ's sake) and three or four more and you've got your entertainment for almost 2 years.

It's going to be a remake of the best of the Three Stooges except it will be the 10 Stooges at least. Lordy, I can't wait for the endless debates....

Run, Sarah, run!!! is what I say.

This is going to be a hoot....Really....

Gravity

What would we do without it? Gravity, I mean.

Would we float up endlessly? How could planes land?

What goes up, the saying goes, must come down. Gravity.

When I staggered to the bathroom at 6 a.m. this morning, I looked out the bathroom window and was astonished by the snow that wasn't supposed to start (according to the Weather Channel) for another hour. But what really caught my attention was how the snow was sticking to the trees.

Bern and I grew up in a place where snow sticking to the trees was a harbinger of bad news--it was going to keep snowing.

Bern went out and cleared our walks about 8 and helped our neighbor Mark clear our shared driveway. She told him about the snow sticking to the trees thing and he swore he never heard that.

When I came out to walk the dog through the snow, Mark (an obsessive by any definition) was still working on the driveway while Bern was clearing our back deck. We said hello and I said, "I don't like the way the snow is sticking to the trees" and he replied, "I know".

Only later did I realize (after talking with Bern) that he 'knew' because Bern told him earlier.

That's where gravity comes in. By the time it was dark tonight, all the snow was off the trees. Sometimes it fell in clumps that almost hit our dog when we were out on the deck and sometimes it came down gently. But it came down. There had been so much snow in the trees around our deck that there was about an inch of fallen snow on what Bern had cleaned altogether.

All day, gravity worked. Snow fell. The trees were finally free of it.

God bless gravity. It works.