It'll pass

On August 2nd, little Jack William was baptized. It was an amazing day. The mass and ceremony took place at the little, small-town church in Eddyville, Nebraska where Bill went every Sunday as a child. Though it is no longer open reguarly, it is opened for special occasions and Christmas Day Masses.



Many things have taken place in that church. Bill's memory of it, of course, extends back more years than mine; he still hears the echoes of his Dad's singing in his mind when he enters the doors.



My memories of this church, though dating back only about ten years, are monumental. And, fortunately and unfortunately, my little family has been the reason that those doors have been reopenend on more than one occasion in the last five years. Sam's funeral was there. Hannah's funeral was there. And now, Jack's baptism was there. Life has come full circle in that church.



Presiding all of those sacred celebrations has been my Uncle Jack.



Uncle Jack is known for his gift in liturgy, especially in giving a homily that you can sink your heart into...a message that you can take home and either use immediately or keep in your tool box for use later.



Such was the case on August 2nd.



One of the things I love about Uncle Jack is his "realness." He didn't take the easy road that day, which would have been to ignore the memories that church has held for us. Instead, he delievered a message that I will keep in my heart always; one which I have already had to pull out of my toolbox.



I will likely get the details wrong, but here is the meat of the story he started out with:

Thomas Merton was a noted monk, theologian and poet.



He once had a man come to him for advice. This man happened to be at a very
low point in his life. His relationship with his wife was strained. The family
was financially strapped. His job was becoming increasingly stressful and he was
in danger of losing it altogether. His children were acting out at school. He
was life tired. He asked Merton for advice. Merton said,



"Don't worry. It'll pass. "



The man, perplexed and uninspired thought, "That's all you have to
say?"



A few years down the road, the man returned. Merton asked him how things
were with him. The man replied, "They are wonderful. I got a new job and got my
affairs in order. My wife and I have reconciled. The kids are doing great and
are now both in college. Things couldn't be better. "



Merton replied, "Don't worry. It'll pass."

Uncle Jack went on to point out that so very much in our life is ever-changing. There is so much that we cannot control. Very little remains constant. But, when things are good and when things are not so good, our family, our friends and our faith CAN be constant. They can be the things that we lean on when things swing up and down. They can be the things that don't pass.



Now, please reference my blog post from July 23rd, "Summer of My Soul."

You guessed it. The tranquility passed. Though not completely, it passed.

Last Monday, after recovering beautifully from surgery, Camille woke up limping noteably. Since then, it has been a mystery. With a mixture of pain and decreased mobility which she now stubbornly refuses to talk about, it has gotten to the point where she will barely walk. An ortho visit and a week later and we still don't have answers.

And it is ripping my heart out because she had been doing so well. As usual, she somehow has put it in a compartment and kept her loving, laughing spirit up.

And meanwhile, my spirit suffers. But I think of Uncle Jack's homily and Merton's words and think "Don't worry, it'll pass." Hopefully.

In the meantime, we went back to Kearney and Sumner for a weekend of family, friends and faith to help get us through. Which it did.

Now if only it'll pass.