“Flat Tire”

Writing class exercise, 10 minutes, no revisions, to the prompt “flat tire”.

Any nail or screw in any road will find its way into any one of my car’s tires.  Thank God, I have never had a blow-out.  But I know well that sinking feeling of coming into the garage in the morning, prepared to rush off somewhere, and seeing my car literally sinking slightly in one direction or another.  The tell-tale signs of a slow leak … phphphph … We don’t live far from a Les Schwab place, so I scrap my morning’s plans, drive carefully to the tire shop and … wait … while a repair is made.  The guys there are always so cheerful and accommodating, which makes up for my spoiled plans.

“Sorrow and Joy”

This piece appeared on March 11, 2024 on CatholicArtistConnection.com, as part of that website’s Lenten Reflections series.

Mid-way through the penitential season of Lent came yesterday’s bright spot of hope and joy: Laetare Sunday.  The liturgical color of the day — rose — shone like a beacon against the unrelenting purple of Lent, a visual sign to the faithful that Easter is within our sight.

Today, as we embark on the fourth week of our Lenten journey, donning purple once again, we remain heartened.  As always, God’s grace, mercy and unconditional love surround us.  New energy underlies our seasonal practices of prayer, fasting and almsgiving.  We sharpen our focus on how to live in right relationship with God, ourselves and others.  

In the First Reading for today’s Mass, Isaiah (65:17-21) speaks of the joy, happiness and delight of God’s creation, and assures us that “no longer shall the sound of weeping be heard there, or the sound of crying”.  The Responsorial Psalm (30) continues the theme: “You changed my mourning into dancing.”  And the royal official in the Gospel (John 4:43-54) could be any one of us, “who believed what Jesus said to him”, after he pleaded with Jesus and then experienced the healing of his son.  

Yes, the sorrow of Christ’s suffering, crucifixion and death loom ahead of us.  And yes, we are living in a great big world seemingly drowning in war, violence, tragedy, discord, uncertainty, grief and gloom.  In our smaller personal world, we may be living with circumstances that are deeply troubling.

But the hope and the joy of Laetare Sunday are still fresh for us this day.  We are reminded that sorrow is not the end of the story.  From sorrow will rise the salvific reality of Christ’s Resurrection, with the assurance that we all share in the miracle of eternal life and light, of redemption. 

With our faith thus strengthened, we can resume our Lenten observances over the next three weeks with renewed commitment.  By leavening sorrow with the gifts of hope and joy that God bestows so generously, we can face any challenges that the world and our individual lives bring us. 

***

As a Benedictine Oblate, I (try to) live according to the Rule of St. Benedict.   Chapter 49 of the Rule begins with this instruction: “The life of a monk ought to be a continuous Lent.”  I (try to) reach that state by allowing the meaning of Lent, with its intertwined sorrow and joy and its promise of redemption, to remain relevant throughout the year, in every liturgical season. 

Here is a practice that helps me: Often, daily if I can, I compose two litanies — two prayerful lists — on the facing pages of a notebook so I can easily toggle back and forth between them.  One page is headed “Blessings Noted” and the other “Prayers Needed”.  I bring these litanies to God, giving thanks and praise and asking for help.  Every time I compose my litanies, I start fresh on new pages with new blessings and needs.  This practice helps me appreciate the sacred rhythms of my life, fosters my growth in prayer and brings me closer to God.

“I’m back … !”

After 9 months of discernment (gestation?), I now see that … it’s time to resume posting images of my artwork. I assure you: I never stopped making art, I merely paused showing it. Onward!

“The Young Artist”

The apartment in Bayside.  Perhaps I am three or four.  I am sitting, crouching, squatting, whatever posture I need to be in, on the kitchen floor.  I am drawing with crayons on paper.  The only light is in the kitchen, where Dad is fixing his breakfast.  It is dark everywhere else.  Quiet, too, as Mom and Owen, and John if he has been born yet, are asleep.  Dad and I do not speak.

Am I drawing what I remember to be my first images?  Attempts to depict what it was like to be in the car and drive under the big towers of what I now know to be either the Whitestone or the Throgs Neck Bridge.  I remember trying to show, in a static drawing, what motion felt like — approaching the first tower, being under it, turning around to look up through the back window to see it recede, then turning forward to approach the next tower and repeat the experience.  Perhaps I should have been making a motion picture, not a drawing.  As if!

I wish I had those images.  Where did they go?  Crumpled up in the day’s trash, when Dad had finished his breakfast and gone to work, and Mom was up and starting her day with two or three of us?  Or filed away somewhere in a manila envelope that eventually got lost?  Or maybe still in the house in Connecticut?

“Aging: The Open Door to the Rest of Your Life” — June 22, 2024

This retreat will be repeated on February 1, 2025 on ZOOM. Here is the description. Please let me know if you would like to attend.

“The Lord opened a door of opportunity for me.” (2 Corinthians 2:12)

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.” (Alexander Graham Bell)

Are you standing in the liminal space between the closed door of a known past and the open door to an unknown future?  

This retreat is designed to help you see the opportunity presented by the open door of aging.  If you regard aging as an integral part of God’s gift of life, you can be confident about stepping through that door.  How can you support and sustain that confidence?  By creating your own Credo of Aging — a statement of beliefs and approaches that will help you flourish in a new and meaningful stage of life.

This retreat will be a time of personal discovery.  Using a variety of creative and spiritual tools, you will review what has brought you to this time of transition.  You will design your Credo, an approach to the future that is uniquely yours, because it will be based on your own history and your own aspirations. 

Aging is an experience that is both universal and unique.  As part of the mortal human community, we all take a journey from birth through life until death.  As unique individuals, we take this journey in ways that no one else ever has, or ever will.  And along the way, we encounter challenge and opportunity, success and failure, joy and sorrow, clarity and deep mystery.  Doors close, doors open, paths unfurl ahead of us and detours and crossroads abound.  Always — if we are paying attention — there are questions about the meaning of life, and how to fulfill it, how to honor what God has freely given us.  Whenever these questions come upon us, that is the time to begin engaging with them.  This retreat may be your time.