God is Present in our Work

The earliest memories I have of my mother are those of how she loved to set the table with all the proper appointments -- matching placemats, crystal, plates and silverware. Every detail was attended to -- and the table was always set, even when there was no dinner planned. She would change out the glassware, or the tablecloth, or the placemats, to offer different dining presentations. She was always ready for the unexpected guest. It was a perfect model for me, and the life I would grow into here at St. John Neumann.

I've always been a "Martha" in Jesus' circle, ready to manage the cleanup, do the dishes. Particularly in my church work, it often means that I'm in the kitchen after every event. And for many years, it was carried out with such resentment, because after the more thrilling hours of planning and setup, and several fun hours of meeting and greeting, I felt like I was left in the kitchen "holding the bag." In reality, it was my ineptness at organizing volunteers to take care of the cleanup. I so clearly remember an occasion almost a decade ago, when I had been on my feet for 10 hours preparing for Our Lady of Guadalupe's celebration. We had successfully hosted and served a marvelous crowd of several hundred parishioners. By 10pm I was the only one left in the building, and I was on my knees trying to scrape the glitter glue off the floor where the craft activities had been carried out.

The authors address this issue in Chapter 5 and remind us that God is present in our work. "As we prepare a place for others, something happens inside of us: We are prepared also." In recent years, certainly with the help of more prayer and reflection, and the wisdom to hire a maid as backup in the kitchen, I've realized that it's kind of like being a monk in a monastery. Their work IS their prayer. And even though Jesus told Martha that there was nothing wrong with her sister Mary just sitting at His feet and listening to His words, He recognized the contribution of Martha as well. We all have our avenues of prayer, and once I understood that part of my prayer life was served out in the kitchen, the work became so much more joyful.

The details matter in welcoming the stranger, even when it takes time to clean up afterwards.

Blessings to you for the week,
Nancy Biehler

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What About Your Life is Stretching You?

How we hate to move out of our comfort zones! But, how we hate to be considered "predictable" either! I have to say that it is almost hurtful to have to admit to living a "narrow life," enjoying the company of folks I "get along with," who tend to support issues the way I do. Some of them have greater convictions than I, but we still think alike. There's an important reflection point you are asked to address -- "what about your life is stretching [you]"?
I remember a former Pastor at SJN, Msgr.Jordan, who truly knew how to be open in a way that was absent of judgment. On one occasion, after a funeral held at SJN for an individual who was part of the homeless community, we welcomed an interesting collection of mourners to the reception following the service, and Fr. Jordan wound up face to face with Leslie, Austin's famous cross-dresser, who arrived wearing a nun's headdress and a thong. I believe he tried to shock Fr. Jordan when he asked him about whether he was acceptable in the eyes of the church, and the Pastor merely smiled and said that God welcomed everyone to the table. How does one avoid the temptation to be suspicious of "that" visitor?

In Chapter 4, the authors make a curious comment that solitude is important because it "opens us up" to be in relationship with others. It is true that many of us have almost lost touch with what it's like to live in the quiet -- too many ringing cell phones, radios that are never turned off, television noises in the background, even the sound of traffic outside. Sometimes, we don't even realize how badly we need time to be quiet. As a single person, I've created some space for silence in my own home each morning in prayer, but once a year I head to the valley for the supreme quiet offered at Lebh Shomea, a Silent House of Prayer operated by the Oblates in the middle of South Texas ranch country. I've learned through that experience, that the quiet truly does restore us for living in community. I think I could really live in that kind of silence for much longer than the week I spend each year, but that would almost be an escape from my own destiny on the planet. I'm just thankful for the restoration that comes to me while I am there.

Food for thought, enjoy the read,

Nancy Biehler