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Birthday & The Mass Post

Two divergent topics today. With a postscript of sorts that shall be listed first (How is that for helping you feel the chaos that is my mind?).

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To all my friends that wrote and commented about my very, very rough day on Saturday (well, hell, lets be truthful... my whole weekend)... I thank you sincerely. Your advice and words of encouragement helped greatly. It helped to validate that much of what I have been feeling for so long now... IS A TRUE CHALLENGE. I vacilate between trying to keep my emotions inside and letting them all 'hang' out for the world to see. I feel guilty about both for differing reasons at different times. I do not want to be considered a whiner, so often I will not post about some of the things that happen. Other times I fear I bore you all to tears because all it seems I write about lately is harshness.

I am going to try to not vacilate as much. I wish to give you a more even-keeled examination of my thoughts. Perhaps if I keep that focus here, it may be that I will be able to feel less buffeted by the winds of fate that seem so often to conspire against me to keep me in despair.

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Partially because of its timing, but also very much because I felt the need to get out of the gaudy, upper-crust part of town, I went to mass this weekend at the small parish in the heart of the decayed central city of the region where I live. I live in the affluent suburban sprawl far outside the limits of the city that arose in the 1960s to the present as this as well as many cities spiraled into horrid poverty. This poor parish is in the midst of blocks and blocks of decay.... abandoned houses, homes engulfed by arsonists, empty businesses, even a museum that died. This parish is also in the midst of where roughly 3/4ths of the gang-related murders occur in our city. This parish, however, is a beautiful flower amidst all the sadness around it. The mass was packed as usual, with a rainbow of different ethnicities. Most everyone was of a pink-collar or blue-collar upbringing, which was very comforting, for this blue-collar ethic is such a part of my heritage as well. Even though my immediate family had different careers, every uncle, aunt, cousin, second cousin, etc were all of the blue-collar ethic. Even though I am a professor, my mind and heart are very much like the blue collar shoprat, the factory worker, the person who toils to live. To be so firmly in the midst of the every-day worker mindset was peaceful and calming to me. It felt much more homey and comforting to me than any other parish nearer my home. One song in particular, the communion song, especially touched my heart, and helped me to salve some of my deep seated angst. This song was called "Lord, When You Came" and was written by Marty Haugen (one of the most prolific Liturgical authors of music for the Roman Catholic faith in the last 20 years. The lyrics (abbreviated) are:

Lord, when you came to the seashore,
you weren't seeking the wise or the wealthy.

But only asking that I might follow.

O Lord, in my eyes you were gazing, kindly smiling,
my name you were saying;
All I treasured, I left on the sand there;
Close to you, I will find other seas.

Lord, have you need of my labor,
Hands for service, a heart made for loving

My arms for lifting, the poor and the broken?

O Lord, in my eyes you were gazing, kindly smiling,
my name you were saying;
All I treasured, I left on the sand there;
Close to you, I will find other seas.

Singing at the mass, listening to the readings and the homily, and receiving communion helped sooth me greatly.

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Today (February 7th) is my elderly mother's birthday. She is now 79 years old. I hope we can have a wonderful day. A day of quite and pleasant celebration. My wife and I have a cake and presents wrapped and decorations to put up before I help my mother out of bed in the morning. Even though we are both working, it is possible some of my siblings may stop by during the day, so we will have the cake ready for them and for her to help in their celebration if they stop by. Tonight after my wife and I get home, we will celebrate with mom.

I hope things go well and go predicatably.

PipeTobacco