sowing pardon

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen"

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This prayer of St. Francis of Assisi is such a beautiful prayer! It seems to me that, by praying it, it is a way for us to seek to love selflessly.

The line I have been focusing on this week is "where there is injury, pardon". I was thinking about Pope John Paul II who forgave Mehmet Ali Ağca, the man who tried to assassinate him in 1981. After Ağca was sentenced to life in prison, the pope visited him and befriended him, asking people to pray for his "brother". He said he had forgiven him.

In his book Make Me An Instrument of Your Peace, Kent Nerburn tells the story of a father whose young daughter was dragged off into the woods and shot in the head by a young man who did not know her. After the boy was found guilty of murder, the father went to visit him in jail to get to know him. he said, "That boy and I are forever bound. We need to know each other. I do not know if I can forgive him. But perhaps if I know him I will not hate him. This is about healing and reconciliation." Mr. Newburn makes the point that what St. Frances meant by sowing pardon was to seek healing and reconciliation. And, "where the seed of pardon is planted, the flower of true forgiveness may someday bloom". How beautiful!

It has taken me six months to be able to report to you that I have forgiven the people who fired me. A priest friend has been urging me to seek a lawsuit against them. He thinks I should do it because of the injustice done to me but also so they won't do this to anyone else in the future. He said they must be made responsible for their unjust action against me. I imagine I would have a good case but I really don't think that is what God wants me to do. Being embroiled in a lawsuit would only cause angry, bitter feelings to linger and possibly grow larger and larger the longer it went on. I do not wish to spend my time and energy that way. Besides, our Lord asks us to forgive.

It is my hypothesis that the board thought what they were doing was good for the organization. A lawyer had stirred all kinds of emotions against me, making up things that were not true. For some reason, the board chose to believe the falsehoods leveled against me and they acted out of fear. I think they must have forgotten that I'd brought the matter before them several times when they accused me of never having done so. I'm still not sure why they accused me of going to great lengths to suppress what had been going on. The situation was evident to every person who worked at the center, which included several board members. We had all talked about it and had worked to solve the problem.

I have found an interior, gentle peace about what happened. I have acknowledged the injustice done to me but have moved on. Going forward in my life, I will continue to pray for them. My prayers have aided my healing. One day, I hope to reconcile with these people whom I once considered my friends.

No one is perfect. We all do things that are just plain wrong. We all sin. I know I've hurt people. After having worked through this event in my life, my prayer is that I always love, not hurt, those who are in my life. If someone hurts me, I will work toward healing and reconciliation. My job is to help others, as well as myself, get to heaven. I can only do that with a loving Christ-like, pure heart, not with a bitter, hard one. And, in this, I have discovered there is true freedom and joy to be found--a little bit of heaven here on earth!

looking for the blessings in life

I hope I don't sound like a broken record here but one of the most profound lessons I've learned in the aftermath of my termination has been that the things that seem like tragedies or horrible events in my life are really opportunities. In today's second reading, we are told by St. Paul in Romans 8:28: "Brothers and sisters: We know that all things work for good for those who love God,who are called according to his purpose." If this is so, we know everything that happens to us has a good purpose if we can view it through eyes of faith. One thing to keep in mind here is that God is only capable of good. God = good. So, whatever He allows to happen, or orchestrates to happen, in our lives works for good.

I didn't always believe this. When my sister Mary died at 41, leaving 8 children, ages 6 through 18, I was very, very angry with God. I remember being in the laundry room, doing laundry, and railing at Him. I shook my fist, I screamed at Him. I didn't see how Mary's death could bring anything good. It took me three solid years to stop being angry at God. During that time, I acted out. I did things that, up to that point, I'd never thought I was capable of doing. In the end, I realized I had come face to face with the darkest reaches of my soul and it eventually brought me to my knees, literally. Sinning, I think I figured, gave me control over at least parts of my life. Of course, it didn't. It only made things worse. However, being the stubborn person I was, I didn't see it that way. I wanted to get back at God for the pain I thought He'd inflicted.

Back then, I didn't trust God. I didn't understand that He is only good, that He is merciful, that He had the future in His hands and, in the end, good would prevail.

What I've come to realize is that I can trust God to know what He's doing in my life. I truly believe that everything that happens in my life is ordered for good. The events in this life are the means in which we can grow in holiness, thus aiding our journey to heaven. When I think about the saints who were martyred for their faith, I know I'm onto something here. They lost their lives in horrific ways and now they are in heaven. This life is temporary, a means to an end. We know that God waits for us to join Him in heaven for all eternity. While we're here, we must take every opportunity He offers us to grow in holiness. In this, we are extremely blessed because He gives us many, many opportunities throughout our lives.

blessed are the poor...

I attended a play in Minneapolis the other night. On my way home, I decided to stop for gas because I had a 20 cent coupon and a local chain was doubling competitors' coupons that day. The coupon I had would be worth over $4 because I needed at least 10 gallons.

I tried to pump the gas without using my credit card at the pump, thinking I'd have to go in and pay to use the coupon. It didn't work. I went in and asked how I could use the coupon. The clerk told me the reason I couldn't pay after I pumped the gas was because they had a lot of people driving off without paying for their gas and she seemed surprised I wanted to fill up my tank. (I surmised people came in with a few dollars cash and got small amounts of gas.) She said she didn't know how to help me. I told her it was okay, that I'd just go to the one in my neighborhood.

When I got to the station near my home, I realized gas was 9 cents cheaper. I was also, as I always am, able to pump gas and then go into the store and pay for it, using my coupon. Not only did I save $4, I also saved 90 cents. For a moment, I was relieved to be back in my neck of the woods.

Now, one would think I'd be thrilled by this turn of events. However, I started thinking. The first station was in a very poor part of town. The station near me is in the 'burbs. I wondered. Why would poor people have to pay more for their gas than those of us who have much more means? It took me back to working at the pregnancy center, which is in an extremely poor part of town. It always bothered me to see such discrepancies when I'd do clients' budgets with them. For example, generally, they did not own washers and dryers so they'd end up spending lots of money to do laundry. I always thought about how blessed I was to be able to afford a washer and dryer. When I was raising my four kids, I usually did two loads a day. That's twelve to fourteen loads a week. Twelve times $3 is $36 a week, over $140 a month, for my clients. When they only received $420 a month from welfare, that amount was impossible. When I consider the cost of electricity and water for doing my laundry, it cost little more than a fraction of that. Then, there's rent. Some clients were being charged an exorbitant amount for rent. I figured out one day that, for me, with tax deductions, the net price I pay for my mortgage is a fraction of what they pay and I have a whole house with a big yard attached.

Why do the poor have to suffer for being poor in these ways? Why can't they be given a break? I think that's why I stayed so long at the pregnancy center. I always wanted to try to help, even though what I had to offer was only a drop in the bucket of what they really needed. And, I couldn't help everyone.

I think, from now on, I'm going to follow Archbishop Flynn's example and give a little money as I wait at a red light to the person on the corner with his pitiful sign declaring he's homeless. I've always been cynical about people like that but maybe, just maybe, they really DO need our help. And, the next time I'm at a gas station in the inner city, I'll pray for the people who live in that neighborhood as I pump my gas.

Matthew 25:36-40:

"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.'Then the righteous will answer him and say, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?' And the king will say to them in reply, 'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'"

things my father gave to me

Here is a piece I wrote a while ago about things my father gave me. I've been thinking about these gifts lately and about Dad. I just know that he has been interceding for me these past few months...and most likely way before that!

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Life...My father gave me life. Despite the large intervals in years among his kids, there were no unwanted babies in my family. I know without doubt that he loved each of us before we were born, when we were a mere “twinkle in his eye”, as he used to say.

Faith...The most important thing my father (as did my mother) gave me is faith. By my baptism, my dad gave me this wondrous gift. He saw to it that we had a Catholic education and that we always went to Mass every Sunday and every holy day. By his example of attending daily Mass and recitation of the rosary (daily) and his myriad of prayers found in his various prayer books, he taught me about having a prayer life. I know I would not be where I am spiritually without my father’s influence.

How to live the corporal works of mercy...He fed the hungry at the soup kitchen and delivered Meals on Wheels. He sheltered the homeless and visited the imprisoned. There was a young man named Joe who came over from Italy and somehow Mom and Dad took him in to live with them. (I think a priest got them together when Joe first arrived.) Now, Joe was a very shady character by any standard but Dad didn’t care. Over the years, Joe would be in and out of prison for white collar crimes and Dad would ALWAYS go visit him. I think Dad was a constant thorn in Joe’s side because he always gave him what-for. Still, Joe sought Dad out constantly. Their relationship lasted many, many years, and was always the same. When my mother’s mother became ill after Grandpa died, he took her in and she lived with us until she died. Along with his brothers, he supported his own mother all of her life. (Their dad died when Dad was 13. Being the oldest of 5, Dad had to start working. He managed to graduate from Catholic high school, even so.) He supported Grandma financially but he also visited her almost every single day (to my mother’s chagrin sometimes because he tended to be late to dinner then.) Dad’s personal ministry was visiting the sick in the hospitals. He’d collect Louis Lamour books to hand out. (I’d often tell him that Mrs. So and So would NOT want to read a western book but he would just shake his head and hand them out to men and women alike.) He’d take us kids along. The first time I looked at imminent death was when he and I visited a man who was dying of emphysema. He was in an oxygen tent and crying because it hurt so badly. He was in his 40’s. That made a huge impact on me regarding compassion. Dad had a spirit of servitude that never rested. His social circle included very wealthy people in Duluth, as well as very poor. He exhorted his wealthy friends to do this or do that for the poor. Together, they did amazing philanthropic works. I have one memory of Dad taking Mary, Pat, Tom and me on a train every summer with the “underprivileged kids” from Duluth to Moose Lake, where we’d spend the day at the beach, playing games and swimming and then we’d return by dusk. I don’t remember which of his organizations sponsored it but I always looked forward to it. That day, none of us kids were white or black or rich or poor. We were kids, eating Popsicles and having fun. He was a 4th degree Knight of Columbus and was in their honor guard at practically every funeral for which the Knights had an honor guard. He knew how to bury the dead in style! I imagine there are examples of his giving drink to the thirsty and clothing the naked but I don’t have good ones to tell you…I don’t think giving alcohol to his friends at the parties he and Mom would throw count! When he died, I went back to their apartment and looked over his things. I realized that he didn’t have many worldly goods, even though he certainly had had the means to afford a lot of them. Things were never important to him. As I looked over his things, I thought to myself that I was seeing a life well lived, one filled with service to people, not one trapped by belongings.

A sense of tradition...Every December 8th, our whole family would trek out to our cabin and tramp along in the woods, looking for our Christmas tree. Dad would have the youngest child on his back. I remember it being Kathy but I also remember me being on his back. Being that we all had the day off from school (due to it being the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and we were in Catholic schools), Dad would take the day off from work so we could do this. I can still hear him singing, “tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp…I’m happy when I’m hiking…”, as we waddled along in thigh-deep snow.

A sense of humor...Dad’s sense of humor never slept. He had the funniest stories to tell us around the dinner table. He’d come up with the craziest ways to look at things, all more humorous than the last. There was a lot of laughter in our home. He was extremely intelligent and very creative. Once, he caught a live bat at our cabin and put it in a jar. He thought it would be a great show and tell item for Tom (who was probably in 4th grade at the time) to take to school. Well, one of Tom’s fellow students thought it would be funny to unscrew the top off the jar and let the bat out. It wasn’t long before the principal, Sr. Mary Paul, was calling Dad at work, saying, “John Whalen, your bat is flying all over the auditorium. You come and get your bat this minute!” Sr. Mary Paul, all 4’11 inches of her, was a formidable force and no one, not even 6'3” Dad, would ever consider crossing her!

How to live a courageous life...By his holding me in his arms, as we looked out the big picture window of our kitchen which overlooked Lake Superior (spectacular view, by the way) and softly telling me lightening and thunder were nothing to be afraid of and showing me why, I learned a life lesson: to face my fears. He told me once that he'd joined the Navy to see the world but ended up in Cleveland, Ohio with a desk job. To me, it showed his willingness to be courageous but also accepting of whatever came his way. The good news is he was a newlywed in Cleveland so I have a feeling Cleveland turned out to be quite a wonderful place to him!

How to stand up for the sanctity of life and those less fortunate than I...By his walking around the abortion clinic for years and years (into his infirm, old age), he spoke volumes (silently) to me of his commitment to teach people that we are all God’s children, that all of our lives are important to this world, and our lives must be protected from harm and we must do our part to see that they are.

He gave me a love of music...The piano he bought for $25 and the 75 cent lessons gave my older sisters Mary, Pat and me opportunities we would never have had otherwise. We all worked our way through college, playing for Mass. Mary and I earned degrees in music and went on to earn a living by becoming music directors in parishes; I teach piano; Pat accompanies in a church and has taught organ. I praise God the best at the piano. It’s funny, too, because Dad never played the piano, except for one very amazing piece that he’d learned by heart. He also was known as one who would fall asleep at every musical event his children were in (the only exception was at my senior piano recital in college…I was so proud!). Despite his lacking, he instilled in his children a lifelong love of music.

Dance...Mom and he loved to square dance and ballroom dance. We’d be at home and, all of a sudden, he’d link arms with Mom and off they’d be, doing a jig, right there in the middle of the living room! It was very beautiful. Of course, it’s too bad his one daughter (me!) didn’t inherit his sense of rhythm. However, I do love watching people dance and I’m not adverse to trying a few steps whenever someone (usually one of my sons at weddings) asks me.

How to be a leader...He was a born leader. I learned so much from him about how to treat people with respect and kindness, as he worked to rally people to right injustices. He was also an excellent public speaker. He took me to Toastmasters once and I wanted to be like him as I listened to him. In those days, my shyness got in my way, but I learned to overcome that as I was later called to speak about life issues, things about which I was passionate.

Education...It was extremely important to Dad that his children get college educations. I will always be grateful to him for instilling in me a love of learning that, hopefully, will last until I die. He taught me discipline. He taught me to pick myself up when I failed and figure out another solution to whatever it was I was working on. He gave me a career path that I would realize years later.

In many ways, I am who I am because of my father. He gave me wonderful tools with which to live my life. I have a lovely, blessed life and I know it is in large measure due to what Dad taught me. I will always be grateful to him. I am very blessed to have had him as my dad.

NOTE: My dad, John Whalen, died at the Benedictine Health Care Center in Duluth, MN, on January 26, 1996, one day shy of the 8th anniversary of my sister Mary Lindquist's death.