My Yearly Faith Challenge: The Annual Prostate Exam

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October was Breast Cancer Awareness Month across the nation. This is a good and noble fight and I am glad that “pink” is everywhere down to the shoes and wrist bands the NFL players wear to the pink bats MLB players use. But I would like to share about a cancer that is not talked about very much. I would like to share about the  second leading cancer killer among men–prostate cancer. (Lung cancer is the leading killer of both men and women in the USA). The following is personal aka”about me.”

I remember it like it was yesterday. The doctor waltzed into the exam room and matter of factly said, “Well, you have a cancer in the prostate.”

As he stood there flipping through and staring at the sheets on his clipboard, I was thinking—Huh? What? Wait a minute—Huh? Then came the frightened stare as I looked at this guy who in the briefest of moments had changed my life with unexpected news about ME. Cancer? No way!

It had not been a knockout punch but I had surely been sly-rapped and dazed. He calmed me down and, as I slowly cleared my head, he said, “Don’t worry, Larry. We did twelve cuts when we biopsied and there was cancer only in one. I think we found it early. I recommend you get it out now and you will most likely be finished with it.”

That was in March of 2007. On May 10 of that year I underwent a radical prostatectomy. Robotic surgery was brand new and unavailable to me so I had it done the “old-fashioned” way, by hand. They took it out. All of it. I have been cancer free ever since, with some residual side effects (another story for another day).  So what is my faith challenge?

My annual checkup is every September. Every year, as the day approaches, the anxiety  in me builds. I cannot help it. I have never forgotten that initial announcement about my having “a” cancer. Anyway, the protocol is that I go for a PSA one week week and the following week I see the Doc for the results.

The results  have to be .003, yes, ZERO, and then I can breathe easy and go home for another year. So far, the results have been ZERO, nine years in a row. That is considered ‘probably’ cured. Praise the Lord, right?

That is my challenge. I like to consider myself a man of faith. “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart,” right? I have this illusion that I do, but when it comes to this damn yearly test I get weak in the knees. I can’t shake it. Maybe I am a “man of faith” only when everything is hunky-dory. In other words, my “faith” is not nearly as strong as I may think it is. Am I a faith wuss?

I don’t know. I just want to go to the doctor like I’m going for a haircut and not give it a second thought. I tell myself God has my back. I think I believe that no matter what happens, it fits into God’s plan. Jesus loves me, I’m sure of it. So whatever is my problem? Is my faith journey all smoke and mirrors?

Here are a few numbers. One in seven American men will have prostate cancer during his lifetime. It is the second leading cause of cancer death among American men. Every 20 minutes another American man dies of prostate cancer, which factors out to 71 deaths per day. That means 26,120 men will die this year from this type of cancer. Early detection is the key to survival.

Next March I will be ten years out from my diagnosis. I should be kicking my heels and jumping for joy. Don’t get me wrong; I do thank God every day for my good health and cancer-free existence. I just think that I should be able to ignore the possible downside to my test results.

Maybe it is all part of the human equation. We just can’t help recoiling when confronted with our own mortality. My faith has, without a doubt, carried me through this and all aspects of my life. I have been blessed and I hope the Good Lord has patience for a faith wuss such as me.

There is one glaring fact that is as obvious to me as the sun shining on a clear summer day. Until I draw my last breath, my faith journey will always be a work in progress and I shall never take it for granted.

By the way–the color for prostate cancer awareness is pale blue or powder blue. Not many people know that.

© Larry Peterson 2016. All Rights Reserved

Faith on the Edge of a Cliff – Thoughts of a Wyoming Catholic College Student – Episode 3

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Last month in my blog series on my journey to Wyoming Catholic College, I explained the purpose and benefit of a Great Books curriculum. This month, I offer a reflection on WCC’s outdoor program—one of the school’s most distinctive and essential elements.

Image courtesy of Wyoming Catholic College

Image courtesy of Wyoming Catholic College

Three years ago my family took a vacation to Yellowstone Park. That was one my first times out West, and the first time I’d been to Wyoming. During the road trip and our hikes through the park, I found myself stunned by the beauty of the land—a pristine, craggy, wild kind of beauty, totally new to my Chicago-suburb eyes. In short, I fell in love. On our last day in Yellowstone, this is what I wrote in my journal:

“Once God’s finger touched this land, and the earth still sings and trembles with that glory. It sings of open grass, of tumbled rocks and sagebrush, in thin gold-green tones as high as wind. It sings of rivers, lazy and brilliant among the meadows, rushing and deep foam-flecked green between the cliffs, in strains strong and ever-flowing. It sings of pines and pine-shadows with somber, tall, fragrant, mysterious notes. And last but reaching above all else is the song of the mountains—keen, stirring, cragged and snow-capped, draped in the pines and calling…calling in their great deep voices, stern and irresistible as distant bells. Tolling out a fell and beautiful song…this, this, this is the voice of the land. It is a song you must hear with all your being. So hear the song, and sing back a hymn, to complete the harmony of Creation, and its Supreme God.”

Little did I suspect that I would be returning to Wyoming for four years of college!

The mountains and rivers are an integral part of the curriculum at Wyoming Catholic College, just as much as the Great Books. Nature is “God’s First Book,” from which students learn the lessons of wonder, humility, and leadership. In fact, the freshman orientation is a 21-day backpacking trip in the Rocky Mountains.

Yes, it’s required. And yes, I am nervous. But more than that, I am looking forward to the challenge and the beauty and the experience. For I already know how well it works. Last year I attended a two-week summer program at the college, which included a weekend backpacking trip.

First of all, there’s nothing that tastes as good as a meal you’ve cooked yourself after hiking three or four (or more) miles on a rough mountain trail. And there aren’t many things cooler than standing around a bonfire under a starry summer sky in the middle of nowhere, singing folk songs and Gregorian chant with your friends.

To be serious, though, I had profound experiences of both wonder and humility during that summer camp. I found myself inspired, challenged, and changed—broken open, thrust into new horizons, discovering weaknesses I’d hidden and growing in new strengths. And that was just two weeks. Now I get to spend four years steeping myself in this life-changing beauty.

If I tried to list all the encounters with wonder I had during those weeks, this would be a very long blog post. Fortunately, I do have a favorite experience to share. One of the college chaplains came out with us on the weekend backpacking trip to celebrate Mass. Sunday morning found the forty of us kneeling on a massive rock which rose above the pines and the sagebrush, while the priest celebrated the liturgy from a boulder-turned-altar. The rock scraped my knees and the July sun glared in my eyes, but I felt more focused than I had during any of the Masses I’d attended in church that week. This rock was God’s altar, this brilliant sky His cathedral. I was saturated in delight and wonder.

My experiences of humility were not always as pleasant as my encounters with wonder, but they were equally valuable. I’m an introvert-perfectionist, so I hate acting stupid or admitting my flaws. But the wilderness exposes spiritual weaknesses just as it challenges physical ones. I will never forget the day my group went rappelling in Sinks Canyon. After teaching us the technique for traditional rappelling (climbing down a cliff backwards in a rope and harness), our instructors offered us the chance to try it “Australian style” (a.k.a., “defying every single human instinct relating to the law of gravity”).

Me (in orange) beginning to freak out! Photo by Grace Pfeifer.

Me (in orange) beginning to freak out! Photo by Grace Pfeifer.

I was either feeling very brave or very overconfident. I found myself walking down a cliff headfirst, with the harness pressing into my stomach so that I could barely breathe. More than once I panicked, slipped, and fell dangling against the cliff face. Only with the firm guidance of my ground team did I finally reach the bottom. I was exhausted, bruised, and rawly humiliated. But I was also extremely grateful for my ground team. I realized that if I relaxed and trusted my teachers and teammates, I could not only live through a terrifying experience like Australian rappelling, but I could also grow from it.

I have yet to learn leadership from WCC’s outdoor trips, but I will soon. At some point during the three weeks of the freshman orientation, I will be in charge of my group for at least one day—planning the route and making the decisions. The rest of the time, I’ll have to be a cooperative and active follower—which, for an introvert-perfectionist, may not always be easy, either!

The purpose of WCC’s freshman orientation, to my mind, is a sort of a baptism by fire. Right from the start, the students are challenged, thrust beyond their comfort zone, and taught the importance of virtue in a real-life situation. The lessons of wonder, humility, and leadership I’ll learn won’t be confined to the outdoors—I’ll bring them back to the classroom, my relationships, and my whole life.

I’ll see you in God’s country.

 

Book Blast: Your Faith Has Made You Well: Jesus Heals in the New Testament by Barbara Hosbach

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This month, the Catholic Writers’ Guild is touring Guildie Barbara Hosbach’s book, Your Faith Has Made You Well: Jesus Heals in the New Testament. It’s an SOA winner that explores what happened when Jesus healed and what it means for us today.

Summary: Jesus’ healing power speaks to all of us who are willing to turn to him and have our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts opened to what he offers us. Each chapter of this book begins with the Scripture account of a healing story and then takes a deeper look at what happened…[and] what those encounters might have felt like when viewed through the eyes of the people involved. Questions at the end of each chapter—which can be used for private reflection or group discussion—invite readers to identify with each story in a personal way…

jesus heals cover

Win a Book! Barbara will be giving out a free copy of Your Faith Has Made You Well on her website. People can enter for a chance to win by leaving a comment on one of her blog posts before June 25 and the winner will be notified by email on June 26.

Website: www.biblemeditations.net

Excerpt:

A leper came to [Jesus] begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. Mark 1: 40-42

The leper dared to approach Jesus even though it was forbidden. Once determined “unclean” by the priests, lepers had to live outside the camp, wear torn clothes, and leave their hair uncombed. As if that wasn’t enough to keep others away, they had to call out, “Unclean, unclean!” to make sure people kept their distance (Lev 13:45-46). What a lonely, miserable way to live! It’s bad enough to be isolated, but forced to wear rags and give up personal grooming? That’s adding insult to injury, literally. No wonder the leper begged for Jesus’ help.

…Many of us choose to isolate ourselves when we’re having a rough time for any number of reasons. We voluntarily treat ourselves much like the leper. We stay home in dirty pajamas or a ratty bathrobe and pull the covers over our heads. We don’t shower or comb our hair. We transmit the message loud and clear that we want to be alone. We determine that we are unclean, unfit for the company of others. The spiral of isolation continues in its downward trajectory every time we look in the mirror.

We don’t share our problems because we fear others will reject us. Instead, we beat them to the punch and reject ourselves. If we aren’t up to putting our best foot forward, we may not feel emotionally healthy enough to be around others at all. We deny ourselves the healing opportunity of unconditional love, the gift of being accepted just as we are. Our friends, loved ones, or even professionals may not have the power to heal us of our troubles instantly. What others can do is help us break out of the self-imposed isolation that makes the problems we’re struggling with loom larger.

People with skin diseases can’t really cover them up. Their condition is out in the open for all to see. Unlike them, we can choose to cover up our inner blemishes and sore spots, hoping no one else will see, but what does that gain us? We are as alone as if we were in quarantine. There’s a saying that we’re only as sick as our secrets. Granted, we don’t have to broadcast our difficulties in public. Discretion is always wise, but discretion is not the same as going it alone. Surely God will lead us to at least one trusted person we can share our challenges with honestly and confidentially, be it a friend, loved one, or professional. God’s wisdom is a powerful, sustaining source of guidance for us all, no matter what keeps us from the fullness of life…

Ponder: What isolates you from others? What would it take to be healed of this isolation?

Pray: Trinity of Love, we’re called to live in community. Melt the barriers of fear and pride that isolate me from others.

Get it today: http://tinyurl.com/l3jsc3k

 

Faith on the Edge of a Cliff: Thoughts of a Wyoming Catholic College Student – Episode 1

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Introduction

He knew a path that wanted walking;

He knew a spring that wanted drinking;

A thought that wanted further thinking;

A love that wanted re-renewing.

~ Robert Frost, from “A Lone Striker”

In just two months, I will be striking out on my own. I will be leaving the Chicago area which I’ve called home for the entire eighteen years of my life. I’m shaking off these suburbs and skyscrapers. I’m headed westward, pioneer-style. Like the man in Frost’s poem above, I know a path that wants walking, a thought that wants thinking, a love that wants re-renewing.

In short, I’m going to Wyoming Catholic College.

I will be a freshman at Wyoming Catholic this August. But my journey to this new and unique Catholic school began long before that. Over the next couple of months, I’d like to share a few insights and reflections I’ve gained in my college search and preparation. It is my hope that this series will provide some timely thoughts on Catholic education, from the eyewitness viewpoint of a Catholic college student and aspiring writer. The Holy Spirit has truly led me to Wyoming Catholic. My only response can be to look back on the road so far, and praise Him.

The Calling

It was April 2013, the spring of my junior year of high school. The specter of college education had just begun to loom on my horizon, distant but still daunting—daunting, because, like many high school juniors and seniors, I had no clear idea what I wanted to do.

I had been given a quasi-classical, Catholic homeschool education since the age of four. What I had discovered over the years since then, was that I liked learning—especially the craft of words. I possessed a strong poetic streak and a penchant for weaving stories. I felt called to be an author.

My path should have been clear enough—go to a good liberal arts college, major in English or Creative Writing, land a job somewhere in the writing and publishing industry, and viola—my first novel would be right around the corner. Nevertheless, throughout high school I kept experiencing an odd, nagging feeling, that it wouldn’t be enough. As I fished through the growing pile of college brochures on my bedroom floor, nothing, not even the liberal arts schools, strongly attracted me. Something, among the ubiquitous boasts of the number of majors, the small class sizes, and the percentages of successful alumni—something was missing.

Meanwhile, during my junior year, I was enjoying my high school academics more than ever before. My parents, in the classical homeschool method, directed me towards the Great Books. I began to spend time with some of the greatest minds in Western history—Cervantes, Descartes, Milton, the American founding fathers, to name a very few. As I read their timeless works, I wrote summaries, asked questions, and reflected. I found that I loved finding the threads that connected these books to the absolutes of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. The wisdom of the Great Books—combined with the religious education I received from my parents—began nourishing not only my schoolwork, but my whole life and thought.

In April of 2013, a lightning-bolt of realization stunned me. I had to go to a Great Books college. There was no question about it. I needed to attend a school which primarily cultivated not what I would do for a job, but who I would be as a person. (Of course, the job aspect is important as well, but not one that I can address here in full. For now, let me put it this way: the discovery of the human essence comes first. Profession comes second.)

Enthused, I dove into my college search with a new vigor. Fortunately—considering the miniscule number of Great Books colleges in the country—it didn’t take me long to stumble across Wyoming Catholic College.

Wyoming Catholic is tiny. It’s less than ten years old. Enrollment, though growing, is currently fewer than 150 students. It does not yet have its own permanent campus, and it’s tucked in a little Western town called Lander at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. And yet, the day I explored their website, I became convinced that this was where I needed, wanted, desperately desired to go.

Wyoming Catholic possesses a unique, three-fold identity that might be outlined as Catholicism, Great Books, and Wilderness. The school’s mission statement attests:

“Wyoming Catholic College is a four-year college committed to offering a liberal arts education that steeps its students in the awesome beauty of our created, natural world and imbues them with the best that has been thought and said in Western civilization, including the moral and intellectual heritage of the Catholic Church. The College strives to promote a love of learning, an understanding of the natural order, and the quest for virtuous living so that its graduates will assume their responsibilities as citizens in a free society.”

This college spoke to my heart and soul in a way no school ever had before. I had discovered the path that wanted walking, the love that wanted re-renewing. My grand adventure had begun.

Further Links

For an introduction to the classical education method, read this essay by historian and classical homeschool teacher Susan Wise Bauer.

For readers interested in learning more about Wyoming Catholic, visit their website at www.wyomingcatholiccollege.com. Their short film, “Everything in Excellence”, is an especially beautiful introduction to their mission and method.

Editor’s Notes:  In the past few months we have seen the writing and editing talent of Mary Woods blossom.  Now we are losing her to Wyoming.   BUT all is not going to be missing.  As a young lady with a deep faith she will be checking in with a monthly commentary about her adventures.  Her faith and talent are striking out into the real world.  Her faith will be tested and stretched, her talent molded.   She will be “on an edge” more likely every now and then.   Part of the curriculum is actually rock climbing!   We are lucky to be sharing this adventure with her and send her along with prayers and love.  Thank you Mary for your generosity.   KC

 

Confirmation: Are We Doing it All Wrong?

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One of my favorite blogs is written by our own, Jennifer Fitz. She writes for Patheos and her blog is called “Sticking the Corners“. I began to read her April 19th post which was titled, “What’s Wrong with Age-Bracketed Sacramental Prep?” As I read, (get this) I gave her a “fist pump” and said, “You go girl.” That was because she quickly nailed it about her topic and also opened up my eyes to a fact I have thought about but never really paid any attention to. Her column made me pay attention. (Thanks, Jen.)

The subject discussed the practice of giving the Sacraments of First Reconciliation and First Holy Communion to children who are usually around seven to eight years old. Then, for some reason, we give the Sacrament of Confirmation to these same kids at unspecified times in their lives, like at twelve, fourteen, maybe seventeen. Sometimes they just stop coming back. That all started my wheels spinning and my mind meandered back in time to when I was in third grade and my classmates and I received our Confirmation. Why third grade back then and teenagers and older now? (The RCIA “candidates” and Easter Vigil is another topic for another time.)

Back to our newly-confirmed teenagers. We all know that these young folks do not turn into Apostles with tongues of fire dancing over their newly baptized heads. They are not dashing out into the streets converting Muslims and Hebrews and Presbyterians and Scientolgists and atheists. Why? Because they are not ready. (In fact, I stink as an evangelizer and I received my Confirmation long, long ago.) To the point: maybe the Sacrament of Confirmation should NOT come later. Maybe it should come before, like in second or third grade like it was for me and my peers of the 1950s and into the 60s. We became Soldiers of Christ in 3rd Grade and what did we know? The answer is nothing, absolutely nothing.

Then why receive Confirmation so young? Jennifer’s blog made me realize that what they were doing back then was the right way. We needed a shield of armor and a shroud of protection as we began our journey toward fourth grade and being ten years old. The Sacrament of Confirmation is our spiritual armor against the evil that surrounds us. It is to protect us as we move on and grow. By the time a kid is seventeen his/her faith formation has been set in place. Isn’t receiving Confirmation after the fact somewhat like putting on the body armor after the explosion?

Would it not be better to have the Holy Spirit and His gifts given to a child so they might have that protection available to them as they grow and confront the world and its temptations? Would not the graces that flow from the Sacrament be available to them as the world they are growing into invades their lives? It makes sense to me.

Many of these kids do not receive religious education at home. Oftentimes they are sent off to CCD or Faith Formation by their parent(s) who think that is all they have to do to instill the faith in their kids. The problem is, the secular world has gobbled up so much of our lives that it takes a lot more than an hour or so a week to instill anything in anyone. It has to be an ongoing process with a base of operations. That base is home base and without the fortress of a spiritually guided home front, the struggle for these young people will be ongoing, frustrating, and long term.

Connie Rossini and St. Therese – CWG March Book Blast

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This month, the Catholic Writers’ Guild is touring Guildie Connie Rossini’s book, Trusting God with St. Therese. It’s an SOA winner as well as an award-winning novel, and an inspiration to anyone needing find inspiration in the face of difficult situations.

 

Summary: Are your fears, weaknesses, doubts, and anger keeping you from intimacy with Christ? Do you struggle with despair? Let St. Therese teach you perfect trust.  Learn how Therese of Lisieux trusted God through tragedy, scruples, spiritual darkness, and physical suffering. Connie Rossini pairs episodic stories from the saint’s life with memories of her own quest to trust. With Sacred Scripture, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and insights from psychology, Rossini leads readers to surrender their lives completely to Jesus. Practical and accessible, Trusting God with St. Therese includes questions for reflection that make it perfect for book clubs and faith-sharing groups.

Buy it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LTATI6C

Excerpt

St. Therese’s trust in God is almost legendary—so much so that we might consider such trust beyond our reach. In her family and later in the Carmelite cloister, she was bathed in a culture focused on Christ. When she struggled at school, she came home to learn among those who understood her. When she wanted to give herself fully to God, she became a nun. When she began to speak about her little way of spiritual childhood, others encouraged her. We daily encounter challenges to trust that she never faced. The world around us—sometimes even including our dearest family members—meets our desire for God with indifference or hostility. In the Church, others think us presumptuous for even striving to follow God more faithfully. And an insistent voice inside us urges us at every step to abandon our course. “Why focus on trust?” we ask ourselves. There are so many pressing problems for Catholics in today’s world: battling the Culture of Death, bringing strays back to the faith, revamping catechesis, caring for the poor. Why not focus instead on one of these? When we ponder this question more deeply, the mistaken notion behind it reveals itself. We do not practice one virtue or join an apostolate in isolation from the rest of our Christian life. Focusing on trust does not take us away from these other important things. It helps us advance in them. Fighting the Culture of Death, for example, can be discouraging, heartbreaking, and personally risky. Trust gives us the strength to persevere. Likewise, we must trust God with the hearts of the lost, for ultimately only he can convert them. We must trust him to work through his Church, even when the humans who make up that Church fall short. And unless we can accept God’s providence, the trials of the poor will crush our spirits. Why should we focus on trust?

In a letter to Sr. Marie of the Sacred Heart, Therese put it concisely: “It is trust, and nothing but trust that must bring us to Love” (PST, 61). “Love,” of course, is God himself. In other words, we cannot grow close to him until we trust him.

 

 

Margaret Rose Realy and Lent – CWG February Book Blast

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Cultivating Gods Garden - Feb 2015

This month’s CWG Book Blast is to get you ready for Lent. We’re a little behind, but that doesn’t make Margaret Rose Realy’s book any less applicable. It’s a perfect springtime meditation as well. It has the CWG Seal of Approval and is published by Patheos Press.

Cultivating God’s Garden through Lent

Margaret Rose Realy, Obl. OSB

These daily reflections for Lent offer tranquility and simplicity by finding God through nature. Readers who love gardens and woods and find solace in experiencing the Creator through these environments will enjoy these prayerful reflections.

Excerpt:

Thursday after Ash Wednesday

 Fast from bitterness; turn to forgiveness

Fast from hatred; return good for evil

It was a relatively small patch that I had dug at the back end of the yard to the rental house where I planned a vegetable garden. As an undergraduate at MSU, and a decade older than my classmates, I knew that growing my own food was a necessity; I did not have parents supporting my education.

I dug a portion of the sod and broke up clumps, picked stones and broken glass from the soil, raked it smooth, and mounded the edges to help direct water. Purchasing seeds, I then planted the early season crops of peas, radishes, kales, and a few herbs. A few weeks later I would purchase starter plants for vegetables that took longer to mature such as eggplants, tomatoes, and peppers.

I returned home rather late after classes one day about a week later and again headed to the back of the yard to water the seedlings before sunset. A few feet away I stopped dead in my tracks, saddened by the state of my garden patch. The mounded edges had been kicked into the lawn. Two-thirds of the patch had been covered over with pieces of hand-dug sod, while the remaining third was trampled. Apparently I had unknowingly encroached into the neighbor’s property.

Disheartened, I cleaned up what remained but knew I did not have enough time in my schedule to expand the now even smaller patch.

Soon afterwards, as weather permitted, I planted starters of tomatoes and eggplants in the remaining section of garden. In another garden area bordering the house I tucked in some bush zucchini seeds.

Throughout the summer when I was studying in my room, I would often hear the neighbor mowing his yard and anxiously hoped my plants were safe. They were often coated with grass clippings but never really damaged.

It wasn’t long until the fruits of my labor ripened and canning and freezing commenced. There is something about tomato and zucchini plants in that I always underestimate their production. Even with the smaller plot I had an overabundance.

While washing the vegetables I looked out the window over the kitchen sink. Sitting in the shade of a large sycamore tree was the woman who lived with the man who mowed the lawn that covered my plants with debris. What I saw was just another woman on a hot August day trying to find a cool place to sit. I had lived next to her for almost a year and never knew her name. After all, I was just another student in the rental house next door.

I carefully laid newspapers in the bottom and up the sides of a small cardboard box. I placed a few small zucchini to one side and then piled several large tomatoes on the other. I took a deep breath and headed out the screened side door.

As I approached the woman I introduced myself and held out the box of vegetables. I could tell by the look on her face she was surprised to see me. I think she realized for the first time that I, the student next door, was close to her own age and not a teenager.

As she accepted my gift she seemed dumbfounded by my presence. She never rose from the lawn chair or told me her name. Avoiding eye contact, she spoke a barely audible “Thanks.”

Feeling rejected, but without bitterness, I turned away and went back to my kitchen to continue putting food by. Looking again through the window I noticed that my neighbor had left her shady area and taken with her my gift.

That September I found a room in a house closer to campus. Before I moved away I kicked the mounded edges of dirt into the little patch that had been my garden, smoothed it over, and dusted it with seeds for new lawn. I patted down my pant legs and “shook the dust from my sandals,” knowing I had already moved on.

____________________________

Heavenly Father,

Guide me to always reflect you to those around me. Spare me the shame of reciprocal behaviors rooted in personal pride and let me not limit your love to human love. Grant me to be charitable and forgiving in the face of apathy or anger, so that those whom I meet will know it is you that I serve.

Amen.

Available online at:

Amazon, http://bit.ly/1Ms4EPF

Patheos Press, http://bit.ly/1iBPxTm

Barnes & Noble, http://bit.ly/17J9Fn2

Website: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/prayergardens

Author Central: http://amzn.to/1AKPvUS

Still not sure? Check out this review:

Cultivating God’s Garden through Lent offers daily reflections for each of the days of Lent. These reflections come from the writer’s experience bringing order to gardens both real and spiritual. At every turn of the trowel, every sprinkle of seed, every tug of a weed, Margaret points out to us the rich, loamy meaning that God has for us, just waiting there quietly, if only we will make ourselves still and small enough to see. Margaret does this, shares the fruits of her contemplation with us, and in doing so, invites us to examine our own gardens, wild and weed-ridden they may be. If we stop and look with her, we will see the kind of quiet, luscious adventure that only a gardener can find. This is the first book to ever make me wish Lent could be longer than it already is. The meditations in Cultivating are just the right length to slow you down without dragging it out, and the messages are presented so clearly… I cannot wait to see what sorts of seeds come forth from the read during that time of cold, silent, invisible growth [of Lent]. ~ Mrs. Erin McCole Cupp, OP

Celebrating Our First Christmas with Alzheimer’s Disease: Laughter Allowed

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IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

by Larry Peterson

I guess the first time I realized that something was really wrong was about a year and a half ago. I have a bedroom I turned into an office, and I was sitting at the keyboard clicking away. I sensed someone behind me and turned to see my wife, Marty, standing there. She had a strange look on her face. I remember the moment because fear was etched across her face. “Hey,” I said. “What’s the matter?”

Then I noticed she was trembling. I stood up and went over to her and put my hands on her shoulders. She stammered and sort of whispered, “I don’t know. I think I need your help.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Marty turned and headed down the hall past the living room and into the kitchen. I followed and noticed that she had her “cookie” stuff out.  As she had done so many times in the past, she was about to make the best old fashioned, home-made, chocolate-chip cookies I have ever had. Like a child, I said, “Oh, awesome, you’re making cookies. So, how can I help?”

She sighed and shook her head.  She began to cry and, looking at me, said, ” What is all this? I don’t know what it is for?”

The woman who had made thousands upon thousands of these cookies over the years had no memory of previously doing what she had done so many times before. She had placed the needed supplies on the counter and went to use the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later, what had been virtually second nature to her had been erased from her mind. It was all gone.

She had come back to me for help because she KNEW something was terribly wrong inside her head, and this time the sudden, specific memory loss was scaring the hell out of her. She sobbed, “What is happening to me?”

She had been sick with Lymphoma since 2011. She had endured numerous cycles of chemotherapy to fight the disease. Anesthesia, required because of surgery in August (needed to repair a broken ankle), and an attack of A-Fib (Atrial Fibrillation) in September exacerbated the cognitive dysfunction. She was officially diagnosed as having Alzheimer’s Disease* on September 28.  And now we are approaching our first Christmas together with Alzheimer’s as our unwanted Christmas guest.

Guess what? It is OK. He will not ruin our Christmas. He is welcome to join us. That is because we have started to laugh again, more and more. And we are laughing at the insanity of living in Alzheimerville. And trust me, it can get quite wacky.

I have always had a bit of a flip attitude. It probably has helped me get through some tough times. So when Marty goes to the cardiologist and goes to sign in and cannot remember her name she looks at me for help. I smile and say, “Who cares Lucy, they know who you are. Just put down Lucille Ball.” She starts to laugh and I laugh and I write her name down for her. Not an issue.

The past ten years of her life seem to have literally vanished from her brain. She does not remember us getting married. (We were both widowed and married eight years ago. She has no clue.) So she asks me if we are really married. I show her our marriage license and pictures from our wedding. She is shocked. “I can’t believe it, ” she says. We really ARE married.”

Now, every night I say to her, “Okay, we can sleep together tonight. It’s not a sin.” She always laughs at that.

There are so many little, extraordinary things that happen every day. Being asked the same question over and over can become unnerving. I have turned it around to where I start by giving her the answer. For example, she asks me ten times a day, “How do you feel today?” After a few times I answer, “Today I feel like seeing you and that makes my day shiny.” It is a ridiculous answer but she likes it and I like it too.

I cannot count the things that have been moved to the strangest places. I have found the Parmesan cheese in the towel closet, unwashed clothes in the dryer. She makes coffee and tells me it is the worst coffee she ever had and I should let her make it. She has hair curlers that keep vanishing. I have found them in the garage, in the refrigerator, and under the kitchen sink. We had been searching for them and when I found them in the refrigerator I said loudly, “Here they are.”

She was standing nearby and turned to see me lifting the bag from next to the milk. I quickly asked, “Can I use these for curly fries?” I began to laugh and she shook her head and smiled. I gave her a hug, opened the freezer door and tossed the curlers in. “They are not frozen enough,” I said.  She began to laugh and so did I and, although shrouded in a dark moment, we laughed our way into the brightness of a new moment.

Marty has been captured and imprisoned by the most insidious of diseases. It is like a computer virus slowly deleting what is in memory. So far the last ten years are gone. That cursor is still clicking delete, delete, delete. The day will come when she will not even know who I am. I will do my best to keep her laughing and smiling as long as I can, and as long as she understands why we laugh.

As for me, I must admit, this entire situation has been wearing me down. There is a lot to do as a caregiver. I traveled a similar road with my first wife, Loretta, who died 12 years ago from cancer. She was sick a long time, but she never lost brain function. That is a very difficult thing to deal with 24/7. But you do what you have to do. If a man and a woman love each other that is the way it should be, HAPPY to be there for each other, no matter what. We both took vows before God and man to that effect and, for me, they remain in full force until death.

Our biggest friend in all of this is our Catholic faith. It is there for us through the Holy Mass, through Our Lord Jesus, through Our Blessed Mother and through the examples and intercessions of so many great saints, reinforced every day by prayers from our family and friends. In fact, I did attend Mass this morning and I had a bit of an epiphany. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself when I realized I had been given a Christmas gift from God Himself.

This gift is my ill wife afflicted with a disease that is unstoppable and incurable. She is foremost God’s child, and now she needs someone to take care of her just as she did years ago when she was a child. We met at church and were married in church. An unlikely couple, I know that God brought us together. Maybe this is why. Because during the Christmas season of 2014 I realized that besides a wife, HE has given me one of HIS children to care for. I will do my best to make Him proud. I will also do my best to keep us laughing. It is all GOOD.

MERRY CHRISTMAS
________________________________________________________________________

* In case you do not know this, Alzheimer’s Disease and dementia are NOT the same thing. Alzheimer’s is the number one cause of dementia but there are over 150 different causes.

 

Copyright Larry Peterson 2014

The Nativity of Our Lord

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NativityLuke 2: 1-20 The Infancy Narrative

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria. So all went to be enrolled, each to his own town. And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem , because he was of the house and family of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear. The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying:

“Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels went away from them to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.

We, too, keep all these things, reflecting on them in our hearts, and give glory and praise to God for all we have seen and heard, just as it has been told to us.

Merry Christmas ♥

Giving thanks

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UntitledIt’s a couple of days early, but the season is never wrong for giving thanks. I’ve seen a number of gratitude challenges online this year, and I think it’s a great trend.

Last year at this time, I had just returned from the CWG biennial writers retreat in DeWitt, Michigan. I am thankful that I’m still in touch with most of the people I met there. One has become a close friend in spite of the distance that separates us. Several have become my cheerleaders, and I hope my support buoys others from that special weekend. My life has been immeasurably enriched from that brief time and in getting to know my fellow retreatants/CWG members.

With the perspective of time, I am again reminded how powerful those few days were. I’ve attended other writing retreats along with numerous conferences, but putting our Lord and our Catholic faith at the center of the retreat was key to its uniqueness.

One of the themes that continues to come up in my monthly columns is that of connecting with other writers, whether it be critique based, genre based, special interest based, online, or in person. The Catholic Writers Guild is a great place for Catholic writers to connect. Opportunities abound. The Online Conference usually takes place in February; look for details as the time approaches. 2015’s Live Conference will be in Summit, New Jersey. Check out the website for critique groups. And if you’re not on the CWG Facebook page yet, email one of the officers for an invitation. While a writer’s life is solitary, find strength and encouragement in the fellowship of those who share the passion of the written word.

But most important, for us as Catholics, is the need to connect with God. Sometimes we need to take a step back from the pressures of writing and recall for Whom we write, and why we toil at this sometimes-thankless task. Enjoy your family this Thanksgiving. Work to alleviate hunger, poverty, and loneliness. Use your gifts for the glory of God. Avail yourself of the Sacraments. Spend time in prayer and Adoration.

May God bless the work of your hands, and may you enjoy the company of your fellow saints-in-making during this busy holiday season.

 

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