Sometimes I need a reminder...

Long-time readers of this oft-neglected blog might remember the stories I used to tell about my Sunday school class. I'm still teaching the same class. I'm in the middle of my third year, and boy have the record snows around here messed up the schedule! We'll be able to make up the time, so that's good, but Lent's going to be a long one, I'm afraid.

This is the time of year when getting motivated to teach class is always hardest. I don't know why. But between Christmas and that special "light-bulb week" somewhere before the last class in April, it's a slog. It's the time of year when I tell myself "this is it, I'm not doing this again next year."

But then inevitably I have moments like the one this morning.

After a pretty good class this morning, I had to run across the parking lot to read at the 10:30 Mass. I was a little harried, and the church was packed...at least three deep in the back. Probably the busiest it's been in weeks. At the end of Mass, I gathered up all my stuff, stepped out of the pew, genuflected and as I stood up, was greeted by the smiling face of a former student. But not just any former student.

Long-time readers will also remember my stories about my student, Alex, who battled a brain tumor toward the end of his first year in class. The tumor meant that his sacraments had to be administered from a hospital bed prior to surgery. But he returned last year to be confirmed. He was still undergoing chemo treatments, and wore his trusty knit cap for his confirmation.

This was the smiling face I was greeted by this morning -- minus the knit cap and his braces. He's doing great, and apparently saw me reading and wanted to come up to say hello.

The Lord knows I need little reminders of what it's all about to keep me motivated this time of year. This morning, my reminder came in the form of Alex. :)

Blessings of friendship

For anyone waiting for my musings on the election, don't worry, they're coming. Tomorrow.

But tonight I just have to celebrate friendship a little bit.

I happen to have a friend from college who entered the Poor Clares about a year and a half ago. She'd discerned that this was her vocation and she patiently waited for a number of years while she paid off her student loans before she was finally able to start her life with the sisters. Last Saturday, on the feast of All Saints, she became a novice, which means she received her habit and her new name. She also removed her shoes -- except for working or praying outside in their gardens, these Poor Clares go barefoot.

This afternoon a group of about two dozen friends got to visit with the new novice in the convent's parlor. The Poor Clares are cloistered, and according to old custom, our newly-minted sister visited with us from behind a fine wire screen. We could all see and hear each other, but we couldn't touch, couldn't hug. The closest we got was to touch palms through the screen; the warmth of our hands the only sensation of contact.

There was much laughter and scattered bits of personal and family news shared with the young woman none of us had seen since the Sunday before she entered the convent. But despite her new clothes and her new name (Sr. Marie Ancilla of our Holy Father Francis), the same sweet, silly, contemplative woman shown through.

It was truly a privilege to spend those 90 minutes that way, sharing in her obvious joy and seeing how the Lord was beginning to reshape her toward the mission to which He has called her. Of all the family members and friends she could have invited, I'll never know why I made the list, but I'm grateful for the gift of such a friendship.

Please pray for my friend, Sr. Ancilla ("ancilla" is Latin for "handmaid," a reference to Mary's "yes" to the angel's message that she would be the mother of the Savior). And know that she's praying for you, too.

Autumn glory

I love this time of year. In this part of the world, the leaves just started to turn colors about a week ago. We're nowhere near peak, but I don't always like the peak of the color. I don't feel like I really get to appreciate all the different colors at peak.

But this time of year, it's like someone's taken a paint brush dipped in fire engine reds and flame oranges and lemon yellow, and dripped the paint on a hunter green canvas. They're little spots of color here and there that shock you when you run across them.

And it's just great!

Little Things #2

It's been kinda rainy and grey around here the last week or so. That's a good thing -- we need the rain. But you do get to missing the sunshine.

This afternoon I walked out of my office to get a sandwich for lunch, and was struck by a wonderful smell -- the smell of fall.

The fog from this morning had burned off, and while it was still a little overcast, the sun was trying to peak through. There were scattered patches of baby blue sky visible. And the trees -- at their peak for the last week or so with brilliant oranges, reds, golden yellows, rusts, plums and cinnamons -- were striking.

It was that combination of a little dampness and a lot of dry, decaying leaves that hit my nose and triggered a wonderful feeling. I was briefly reminded of all the years of jumping in the leaf pile at the bottom of the hill in our backyard when I was a kid after my dad had finally raked them all up, and before he hauled them into the woods.

The little things in life

I often find myself marveling at the joy that the little things in life bring. I can't tell you how many times I've been sitting around a table laughing at something that seems so silly, but the fact is, it really is the little things sometimes that bring a smile to our faces.

The latest one was this morning. It was raining a little, and typical of D.C. traffic, things were backed up. But I was marveling at the difference made by my new (as of last Saturday) windshield wipers on my car. After driving home Friday night in the rain, and noticing then that I probably needed to replace my wipers, it was wonderful this morning to have a crystal clear windshield!

Silly, I know. But it made me happy.

What are some of your "little things"?