Set it Free

A few days ago I was pleasantly reminded of a phrase I heard a long while back: “If you love something, then set it free”. I smiled when I heard it, because it spoke on a couple levels to me.  As a husband and father, I like to manage things in a certain way at our home that can be very useful when planning for vacations, or home projects. It can also be challenging to those around me when they wish to express thoughts, or ideas that are not on my radar. There is a balance to be had; and through gracious family members, that balance will grow in both directions.

One such example of “setting the something I love, free” is the topic of faith in our family.  Since I became public with my decision to become part of the Catholic church in March 2012, I’ve heard concerned friends and family ask about how my shift from protestantism will work within my family - when my wife would remain in the protestant understanding. Well, my beautiful wife, Jenn, and I both grew up in various protestant denominations, eventually being part of, and getting married in what is now popularly called, “Non-Denominational”.  So, I can see why folks would have this question to ask.  

I’ll be honest: from the beginning, I wanted my family to join me on this journey. To have them experience the Christian faith, with me, beyond a “spiritual” sense and into a physical, tangible and aromatic sense is indeed something I want very much.   However, it isn’t about me. True expression of faith and religion is never intended to be about any one person getting what they want. I love my beautiful wife and my awe inspiring kids. And, because I love them, I need to demonstrate this in a way that allows them the freedom to be where the Christian faith takes them.  

Getting Away This Week

Since March of 2012, we have practiced this act of “setting one another free” in our faith and it has brought interesting form to our family. My eldest son, Edan, joined the Catholic church alongside me.  My darling daughter, Aurora, has a hunger in her to be baptized.  My youngest son, Curin, loves to work in his “Orthodox Saints” coloring book, carry his rosary, and attend the evangelical church my wife attends every Sunday. I feel fortunate that we can operate in this way: being set free and setting each other free. 

While it isn’t perfect, it is part of my journey and the practice of my faith (“Second Strait”).

Continuing on on my journey this week, I’ve been able to enjoy two landmarks along the

St Mary's Cathedral - Gaylord MI

way. The first landmark this week is a personal travel goal of mine. Since coming into the Catholic church I’ve had an interest in visiting each of the seven churches in Michigan (also known as dioceses) during my sabbatical.  The church in Gaylord MI meets at St. Mary’s Cathedral with several parishes (or satellite churches) throughout northern MI.  

The second is called “Chocolate-E-Clair” cake.  This is a special dessert that I have every year, on the longest day of the year: June 21st (aka, my birthday). My mother started this tradition, and 13 years ago my wife took on the tradition.  Out of the 35 years, only once it was missed - not bad odds for something over a long period of time. It becomes even more special when the one you deeply love, loves you the same way and packs up all the ingredients (along with everything else) as you travel to northern MI for family vacation. Thank you, Jenn. You are so lovingly thoughtful and continue to set me free.

They Love Their Neighborhood

For me, a neighborhood conjures up images of family filled homes, kids riding bikes, summer time excitement and all sorts of Americana that seems to be pulled right out of a given popular 90‘s TGIF sitcom.  Though I’m not disillusioned to realize that neighborhoods vary because of so many circumstances. Some have kids riding bikes and basketball played in the street under the watchful eye of caring adults.  Some have vacant homes, tall weeds and dope dealers. My neighborhood has all of this, so when I hear that someone loves their neighborhood, it catches my attention.

This past Thursday afternoon, I was outside while my kids rode their bicycles up and down the block.  A few houses down, there were 10-12 kids playing basketball in the street, and another 4 or 5 younger kids were riding their bikes and “yelling” jokes at each other. My kids went right along with it having a real good time.  School was out for the summer, and staying up late was now on the radar. While all of this was happening, a neighbor of mine was sitting on her porch admiring her beautiful front yard.  She and I got to talking about the open house she’ll be hosting and other things. As she looked at all the kids running around, and the responsible busyness of our street, she says, “You know? I love this neighborhood”. We both smiled and I knew exactly why she loved this place: the kids, the innocence, the playfulness of the community...I get it.

On Friday, I had scheduled some of my time to help another neighbor who is well into her 70’s, maybe 80 very soon - no one really knows. Her front yard would make a rain forest jealous and she just needs help pruning things back.....to put it lightly.  She and I are busy trimming the crowded trees, clearing overgrowth on sidewalks, and pulling up poison ivy while the sun is out and kids are playing. She looks at me with a huge toothy grin and says, “You know? I love this neighborhood”. I smiled back at her, knowing what she meant: the kids playing, the help with her yard, the sun shining, the catalpas blooming...I picked up on that real quick.

Saturday evening, we put the kids to bed after 9pm and my beautiful wife, Jenn, and I decide to take a walk.  Its dusk out, other kids are still playing hoops, riding bicycles and mini-bikes with missing mufflers.  We mosey down the sidewalk receiving and sharing greetings with kids and the adults.  It’s a summertime night, just getting started here.

As we approach the end of the block, we connect with two ladies sitting on the porch of the home belonging to one of them.  Next door is an abandoned bungalow home, which has been broken into a number of times.  Its thigh-high grass gives it a despairing feel and rotting plywood cover the windows.  But, these ladies are enjoying some music and a couple of 40oz’s, laughing their stressful week goodbye. One lady has five children and makes a little better than minimum wage at a call center a few miles away. Her car is broke, relies on an unreliable bus system and has very little help from her man. We are greeted with clumsy words of joy and off-target handshakes, but their hearts and their smiles are warm and friendly. We chat for a while about life and then they have us pray with them for peace and direction...right at that exact moment.  One of these women says “You know? I love this neighborhood”. I knew what she meant here too.

Reflecting on these three events and the vastly different circumstances that each person is in, I think to myself: “I too love this neighborhood”. There is a rich sense of humanness that I get to encounter regularly.  Each home has a different way of operating than the next.  Sure, there is a lot of brokenness, blight and sometimes downright dangerous behavior here, but there is a lot of “overcoming-ness” (if that is a word). In this neighborhood I know just about every family on my block and they know me.  They like conversation, being outside and discussing contemporary problems.  My neighborhood is a family that teaches me to find genuine joy in simple pleasures.  

Spending just a few minutes helping a kid fix their bike, take a neighbor to the auto parts store, sit and chat with ladies who are in need of a real break from life and you see some folks light up with joy. Could this be what Christ was talking about when he said “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”? The folks here are not wealthy at all.  However, I get a sense of something greater in them for carrying the burdens they have.

So, yes, I do love my neighborhood, but not in the sense of “it is sooooo awesome” or “it’s the best thing ever” but rather like a seasoned relationship that has experienced its share of salty hardships and genuine affection mixed together.  I wouldn’t have guessed that this is where I’d be at this point in my life. However, with nearly 12 years under my belt, the relationship gets fuller with each passing season and I’d like to think that I’m a better person for it.

Sit Still, Stop Fidgeting

I guess I’m starting to get better at engaging change in my life, not because I have any great skill or ability, but rather because I’ve had to adapt to so much of it over the last few months.  At Mass yesterday, the homily was shared by a deacon and while he never formally gave it a title, it would seem appropriate to call it “Transition”.  The Deacon spoke very honestly about his own recent visit to the hospital...and emotionally shared how he was staring at the final transition in front of him: death. Fortunately for him, his family, friends and the parish, he did survive and was given an unforgettable tool to illustrate the many transitions that everyone experiences on a regular basis. Thanks be to God!

This homily of “transition” was well timed for me to hear since my entire morning routine had transitioned into something different.  I attended a different parish at the last minute because I had opened my schedule to allow the American Red Cross to “transition” one pint of blood out of me Sunday morning... and to my surprise, I wasn’t able to get in, get  pumping and get out in 15 minutes so as to could attend my regularly scheduled Mass, at my regular parish, with my regular friends in my regular pew.  As Keenan Thompson would say... “Whats up with that”? Well, I’m kidding of course, and actually somewhat glad at the lengthy process it takes to screen and process each blood donor.  

(On a side note, giving blood is a very interesting process to participate in.  The Red Cross staff does a very good job at meticulously managing the paperwork, the bed-side manners and the after care.  What surprised me, however, was the seemingly small population of people who can actually donate blood, making it much more important for those who can donate, to donate. So, for those of you who have never donated blood before, may I encourage you to explore this option of giving. It really is a good thing to do.)

Back to my story....... Reflecting on the many blessings that this week gave me, I’ve watched some real mile markers pass by.  In fact on June 4th my beautiful wife, Jen, and I celebrated our “Lucky 13th” wedding anniversary.  Having been married since 2000, there has been a lot of transition in me, in her, and in us.  While our personalities and thought processes are quite opposite, the interesting part is that we have this deep bond - an unexplainable connection that is so important to have in a marriage.  So, with the kids in school, we enjoyed building on this connection by having mimosa’s at a favorite breakfast cafe, then toured downtown Detroit on bicycles for nearly 16 miles, and wrapped it up with a tasty lunch at a great tavern across from the Opera House. It was an excellent treat.

On June 7th, my daughter (and 4 of her buddies) celebrated her transition of becoming a 10 year old.  She stayed up way too late, learned creative make-up skills, had too much cake and giggled herself to sleep. Several folks I know often say that kids grow up so fast. It gets old hearing it, mostly because it has been true for me.  However, when I hear those words, I secretly go back to the time when this young lady, who is in my care, was a beautiful and fragile baby.  I think to myself “out of the abundance of love and affection that my beautiful wife and I share with each other, came this darling life”. Life, growing directly out of the “overabundance” of love. What a holy reflection to embrace...

Our anniversary, and our daughters birthday was filled with all the fixings of excitement, celebration, family and fun. For me, these events also work as a reminder of the constant change that I am mentally and physically part of - changes that are irreversible. 

The reality I’m seeing is that my mind, body and faith are regularly in transition, and I’m becoming more aware of how precious my moments really are.  In fact, responsibly using the moments (or “time”) gifted to me is a critical action I need to get better at.  I like to keep busy and I tend to find windows in my schedule to fill them with something else - like pulling poison ivy from a neighbors front yard, for example.  Well, I was talking with the Pastoral Associate at my parish this past Friday and she reminded me of the importance in being still.  Then she reminded me again, probably because I was fidgeting.   Spending the last couple days reflecting on her words, I imagine how terrible it must be to not take the time of reflecting on the transitions that happen.  In other words, what good does transition offer me, if I don’t use some meaningful time to be still and reflect upon it?  

As this summer gets underway, there will be countless adventures to have - many with the opportunity to reflect upon them. My prayer is that I be still and actually do the reflecting.

Bubbles

There are times when I hear comments that are articulated in such a way, that they glue something together in my mind, almost permanently.  In other words, they stick with me for a very long time.  For example, several years ago a very good friend of mine spent part of his life in Romania doing some incredibly meaningful work for a community of people, with his lovely wife. He shared a comment with me that sounded something like “Whatever you have, hold on to it with an open hand”. The take-away for me on this was to not be too attached to things.  Things can break, or they can become more important than they are supposed to be. Sometimes things are taken from me, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when I am not expecting that to happen, there may be a hurt that is associated with that experience.

Over the last couple of months, I had been preparing for a massive clean up and work day at a community center in my neighborhood on June 1st.  I had several real concerns like not having enough materials to work with, committed volunteers to help, or enough food to feed everyone lunch.  While good planners make sure that all these things are in order, this was becoming a little obsessive for my “perfectionist-control-freak” nature.  A few days before the big event I had the opportunity to exercise the “holding on to this with an open hand” thinking. In other words, I needed to responsibly let go of what my expectations were for this event.  And, once I put that thinking into practice, I found that my expectations were in fact taken away.  The surprise for me was what I found in its place: joy of doing the work I really love to do.

On Friday, the day just before our big event, a dear friend of mine and my beautiful wife came by to drop off some materials.  She is such a great example of what it means to be filled with “Joy”.  As she and I were talking, she shared a wonderful nugget of verbal gold with me.  What I heard from our conversation was “you can only give of yourself, what is spilling out of yourself” - or in her case, what is bubbling over from within.  She expounded upon this in a very rich way for me and it was encouraging to just listen. She shared that when someone “bubbles over” they have enough within them to be sustained - as well as enough to share with those around them.  If I am not “bubbling over”, and I give away what is within me, there is a possibility that I can be emptied out, or that I might run out of energy to share.

It has been a couple days since she shared that insight, and her words have sort of cemented themselves in my mind. Reflecting over this past week, I can see in hindsight that I was running out of energy and had a little too much concern over “things”.  Realizing that I was firmly holding on to my expectations, I understood that I had to responsibly let go.  Once I did, it seemed as if the energy came back, the smiles were on, and the joy of what I set out to do in the first place returned.  In fact, I felt equipped and able to share energy with others, because I had something in me that was “bubbling over from within”.

The result of all this was a very inspiring work day event...perhaps "miraculous" is a better term. We registered 82 volunteers, however, there were an estimated 125 that showed up to work. We had about a dozen projects running for nearly 7 hours.  Tools showed up  for all of them, and materials simply arrived. Classrooms were painted, murals were designed, lighting systems were repaired, gardens were weeded, flowers and vegetable plants were installed, trees were trimmed, beautiful signs were created and put up for the entire neighborhood to see - - everyone was fed, and everyone that I saw had a smile. The lesson here for me? You get some serious mileage out letting go, and bubbling over.

About 30 volunteers from a youth group in Ann Arbor, MI

New garden sign installed!

Cleaning up a vacant lot

Volunteers working on Crossroads Garden

***If you ever find yourself in SE Michigan, and want to see some amazing changes in the northwest Detroit landscape, please let me know.  I would enjoy taking you on a tour of my community, and the Brighmoor community, which has seen some wonderful turn around in the last few years.***