Tempus Fugit - Time Flies

It is said that time flies, and it does. Never has this been more clear to me than right now. Now, at the middle-point of my life, I can see how fast things travel. It seems like only yesterday, I was getting ready to go to Germany and arranging to get my passport. I realized today that my passport expired at the beginning of June. 10 years is a blink of an eye, but it was a productive blink.

In that time, we've had two grand kids, I found my passion (Philosophy). We have moved at least a couple of times. We've been homeless and re-established our home again. My husband and I have both changed careers. There have been ups and downs to our marriage. We have lost beloved members of our family to cancer, some of us have defeated it, and still others are fighting for their lives against it.

What hit me this morning is the lack of time that we spend with one another. In our day-to-day lives, how much time do we really spend with each other? Sure, you're constantly with people, but are you connecting with them? Are your kids watching videos or listening to their personal listening devices, or playing their video games while you drive them to yet another practice? Or are you talking to them? Are you listening to their day? Are you spending the precious time that you have doing something that builds that relationship? I spent all day with my kids yesterday, and I am pretty sure that nothing we talked about had any substance.

And what about your spouse? Do the two of you fall into bed at the end of the week, sleep like the dead, and then make love on Saturday morning (like an appointment) just so that you can say you spent quality time with them? When was the last time you asked them what they thought about the immortality of the soul or what they think it means to be married? When was the last time you made a real connection with your spouse, so much so that you really thought you got to something real? I'm betting that it wasn't recently. For me, it's not as often as I would like.

When was the last time you made real eye contact with someone you were talking to? Not business contact, but the real, personal contact that says, "I care about what you are saying to me and I care about you." It's so rare these days that it's noteworthy when it happens to me. I remember it.

As I am preparing for my father to die (and it's coming soon) and watching my grandson grow from a toddler and into a pre-schooler, I am struck by how little time we have. What do we spend our time on?

I have spent mine on making money, making a name for myself, ferrying my kids and husband all over the city. My 5 year old car has 175,000 miles on it. I put 161,000 of those on it. At a mile a minute, that's over 2,683 hours in the car. Driving. That doesn't include waiting. I have spent even more time than that sitting at a computer keyboard reading about the horrors of the world or reading about who said what to whom --essentially gossip and self-gossip.

I have also spent a good deal of time getting to know my children and my husband. I have helped them navigate the rough waters of being grown-ups. I have spent time sitting in offices listening to people pour their hearts out to me (unbidden) that they wish they'd had more time with the people that mattered to them. Those interactions are the ones that I treasure and these are the things that last.

Money and stuff can be replaced --you can have everything one day and be bankrupt the next, and on top of the world the next week. Honor is fleeting and completely in the hands of others --you can have a good name one day, and be worthless in the eyes of the world the next. Pleasure is fleeting and always leaves you wanting more.

Time, however, is completely limited. Whether we spend it glued to our screens, or glued to our chair at work, or glued to our steering wheel, is completely up to us. I have spent far too much time doing things that do not build relationships with the people who matter most to me. I have spent far too much time doing things that I really hate or that are abhorrent to me. I have not used the time that I had with my friends and family to it's best advantage choosing to be face down in my phone or occupied with what I was going to do next, or what I wished was happening instead of this interaction.

This mid-life seat at the top of the hill that allows me to see what has led to where I am and what comes next. And, like any good scout, I am paying attention to the shadowy spots, the rocks and boulders that could complicate my descent. I can collect wood and berries and hunt for food along the way, but choosing the path and companions carefully can make that job easier or harder.

How will I use my time best? Gather the right team, plan the descent and look forward to the rest at the end.

(c) Katie O'Keefe, 2016. All rights reserved.
Photo credit: "Time Flies" at QuotesGram, Chanda Enos, 2016. 

#SmallSuccess: BIG Successes!

In spite of a rocky start to the semester I finally managed to finish. And I finished well.

This is a HUGE success for me. There have been many obstacles that have been thrown in my path. My daughter's marriage fell apart and she and my grandson had to move in with us two weeks ago. The weather here was extreme (even for Ohio) this winter. I had surgery to remove my thyroid just three days before the semester started and didn't even get to start with the rest of my class, beginning a week late and having a few little speed bumps along the way with medication regulation, allergic reactions and just plain, old exhaustion.

Frankly, I have been scrambling all semester to keep up. 

But the thing that almost always characterizes the ends of my major projects and the week of finals is that I can always feel the hand of God on my shoulder. It's when I shake that hand off and try to do things on my own that I begin to sink, and sink fast. When I trust in God's plan for me and allow Him to guide my words and my study, everything turns out just right.

Trust is a big issue for me - I am not good at trusting other people I can see, let alone a God that I cannot see or touch. But, Faith is a funny thing: I find that the more I trust, the more I can see God's presence and work in the world around me. The more I respond to Grace with Faith, the stronger that Faith becomes.

So here are my small (REALLY HUGE) successes for this week:

1. Following my surgery in January, I am currently cancer-free.

2. Last Friday, I won the top presenter prize for my podium presentation, "Finding a Voice: It Sounds Like a Personal Problem to Me" (A Jungian literary critique of the novel Possession by A.S. Byatt). I didn't know there were prizes. It was a nice surprise to be rated so highly, but the prize was a really great cap to my semester.

3. I am getting my grades back, now, but it looks like I had another 3.9 - 4.0 semester.

So this weekend, my husband and I are celebrating! We're going to the Symphony concert this weekend and having a nice, quiet dinner.

What small successes (or big ones) are you celebrating this week? Head on over to CatholicMom.com to share them.

Is Love Missing in Philosophy?

Something has been bugging me throughout the semester in studying Plato, Descartes, Rousseau and now Nietzsche. Something important is missing. It took me a long time to lay my finger on the problem I was having. I thought, at first it was the utter disregard for a plurality of opinion: they all think they have the one true answer. And then I encountered Nietzsche. Plurality of opinion is not exactly a problem there.

It was there that I realized the utter lack of Love in Philosophy.

In Plato's work "Republic" he proposes a plan to manage marriage and procreation in order to eliminate strife and jealousy within the "Happy City". He proposes year-long marriages and any children produced would be raised in common with all the children, so that parents would protect all the children instead of just their own.

In the "Discourse on Method" Descartes never addresses relationships at all, really. But he does state that plans and projects handled by one individual are better and more well crafted than those handled by more than one person. Where, then, would that leave a relationship?

Rousseau believes that Savage Man would have met up, had relations and moved on leaving babies with their mothers, until such time as that child no longer needed a mother.

And now, we are delving into Nietzsche's "Beyond Good and Evil" where he seems to be of the opinion that love is a trap and a barbarous one at that! The idea of self-denial and self-sacrifice is repugnant to Nietzsche. In Nietzsche's vision the "will to power" is the driving force of life: when you enter a relationship, you give nothing up. You work to gain instead.

The point of a Philosophy class is to introduce you to thoughts that are not your own and make you consider them carefully - perhaps changing or shading your own thoughts. This is not always a safe thing. You can get lost in your head so thoroughly that you can't find your way out again.

Philosophy challenges us to think about what beliefs we hold and why. Where do these ideas come from and do they have merit? In that way, and for that reason, Philosophy is an essential study for me as an American Catholic. I am beginning to see how some of the things I value are in direct opposition to what my ideals are. And these challenges to my ideals are making me reconsider not only my ideals, but my values.

What does what I do say about what I believe?

We all have Ideals and Values. What we hold as ideals are not necessarily the same as our values. For example, I have an ideal of having a clean, well-maintained house. The value is that I like to read, write and spend time with my family much more, so the house is a bit, well, slip-shod.

I am also beginning to see how our country has gotten to the place where it is in the political and social values and ideals that we embrace. Frankly, our values, do not reflect our ideals. As a culture, we hold an ideal of self-sacrifice and self-denial, but when the rubber meets the road, our culture does not value self-denial. How very Nietzschean of us.

The lack of Love that I find in the philosophers I have studied, is not actually a lack. It's more like a black hole. It would appear that, to these four thinkers, Love, like a cancer, must be cut away from us in order to free us to think and to make us happy, productive people. As we think more and more about what we believe about ourselves, our own opinions and the world around us, we learn to love ourselves more, and others less. Only through this do we find Truth.

Really? That sounds as enchanting as a rattlesnake in a rolling barrel.

I can't explain why Nietzsche thinks that self-sacrifice is unnecessary in a love relationship. I can't see how a relationship would work any other way.

When you love someone, you give things up. It's a part of the ideal of love, and if it's not a value as well, then the relationship will not last. You and your spouse will eat each other alive vying for supremacy in the will to power struggle unless someone surrenders.

And what if neither one of you surrenders? Well, neither one of you wins.

But, what if you both surrender? What happens then? Does everyone lose?

No. We fill up what the other is lacking. The things that I provide to Michael are different than the things he provides for me. We allow each other to be built up and strengthened and this in turn strengthens us as individuals.

This is Love. It is self-sacrifice. It is self-denial. It is self-knowledge. It is humility.

It is the cross.

Without the crucifixion and resurrection we are less than we could be. To look at one without the other is to miss the point of Love. Yes, the resurrection is a triumph, but without the sacrifice, it is hollow. It is an empty tomb, but also an empty show of power.

When we look upon the crucified Christ, we see the depth to which love must take us. Love will consume us, but we are not lost to ourselves by that sacrifice. Instead, in his passionate love for us, Jesus comes to us in the Eucharist and fills up what we are lacking in ourselves.

So, during this Easter season, it is important to celebrate the Risen Christ, but let's not forget that victory comes to us at a price.

Success, Marriage and Spiritual Growth

Every achievement I make has a component of cooperation involved in it.
This post is for my husband of 22 and 1/2 years - the hand that I hold and the wind in my sails.

I have had some very nice compliments this week from my professors and from my friends and it's very flattering. But it's also kind of disquieting.

I have been considering applying for a fellowship that would take me overseas for a week to cover international aid efforts in the Middle East. I mentioned the possibility in passing to a colleague and she passed it on to others who have written to encourage me. They really believe I could do this. I have gotten huge support, ideas and backing from my professors, family and friends, too.

Frankly, this terrifies me.

What if they say yes? Yes, it would change my life. It would change the direction of my work and give it some real substance. But, wow! I never thought I'd go this direction. Sometimes, God's ways are kind of, well, off-beat.

There are 3 professors (in 3 different fields) trying to convince me that their Master's program is the best Master's program and I should really continue with my studies after I finish my bachelor's degree. I am game, really. Now, I just have to figure out if I can find the right combination of money and time to make it happen. Oh, and I have to pick a field!

One of my professors was joking with me Friday afternoon and said I was a pretty hot commodity. Everyone wants me and for good reason - I am (and I quote him here) "An excellent student". He opined that it must be nice to know that.

And it is. It is really nice to be recognized for your talents. But, so many people have been heaping compliments on my head that it's actually beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

The truth is, I am a remarkably shy person and I squirm a little bit at unbridled enthusiasm for my accomplishments. I am also a naturally skeptical person. One might even say I am a "negative" person. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sometimes this fear of "doing it wrong" paralyzes me and I freeze. I just stop moving altogether. I think this is in large part because these are not my accomplishments alone.

Everything I have ever accomplished has been due to someone else pushing me, believing in me or inspiring me.

Because of this, the next step that I take will impact more than just me. If I do it right, it could be a very positive change for my entire family. But if I do it wrong, it will hurt more than just me.

When I married Michael I had no plans to be a Church Musician. I had been singing in the choir at church, but I had no plans of making that a career. It was through his encouragement and musical taste that I became fascinated with polyphony and chant. It was on these that I built my professional reputation.

At Michael's urging, I developed a choir. With his encouragement, I maintained it. He worked long hours doing hard labor so that I could continue to work at a job that I loved, but would never pay well. And, through his sacrifices, I became a pretty decent music director.

Going back to school was a real step out of my comfort zone. But Michael encouraged me to move forward. In my darkest moments, I worry that I am causing financial pressure to build on my family, and that 2015 graduation date looks too far away. Michael continually steps into the gap and makes it all happen.

For the past two weeks, he has been working 12 hour days in order to make it possible for me to spend as much time as I can on my studies and not worry about the financial end of things. All of this while listening to me talk about all my classes and sort through the tangle of questions I have about what I am learning or reading or writing about.

He doesn't ask for thanks. For him, it's all part of the job: Love, Honor and Cherish. He never gives up on me, even when I give up on myself.

So, when my professors say things like: "You're an excellent student!" or "We need people like you!" I am pretty proud of myself. But standing right behind me, pushing me kicking and screaming into the spotlight is the person who makes it all possible. And he does so to his own personal detriment.

That is what marriage is all about.

We pour our lives out for each other and deny ourselves to help lead our spouses to holier lives. As we live our vocation as Husband and Wife, we move ever closer to God, not just as a couple, but as individuals. Each of us fosters the gifts of the other to give greater glory to God.

I sometimes wonder what I give back to my marriage. I often feel like all I do is take. I can be a pretty harsh critic. I am tough to please and I demand perfection, not just from myself, but from all others who touch me.

This is an unreasonable expectation. I know that. The truth is, I need to do a better job of lifting Michael up. I have been woefully falling down on the job.

Now, I have to figure out what to do about it. Maybe this post is a start.

#SmallSuccess: Setbacks and Successes Go Hand in Hand

This week has been a big challenge. I'm not gonna lie.

Monday, I had an allergic reaction to some pan spray I used while baking and spent the morning at the ER and not in class.

I felt really stupid for not thinking to check the label. Seaweed derivatives, it would seem, are everywhere. And they're dangerous to me in a way that is terrifying.

The reaction swelled my throat shut and filled my lungs with fluid within about 20 minutes - as I was driving. Combined with the extreme cold, I have re-injured my voice and damaged the interior surgery site in my throat which meant no school for me yesterday, too.

"Disappointment" does not adequately sum up how I feel about this.

But, setbacks and successes go hand in hand. Because I had to stay indoors to help my throat heal, I have managed to get some significant work done on a couple of big projects.

1. I'm making good progress on my series at The Beautiful Music Challenge on liturgical music for people who aren't liturgical musicians. There's been discussion, which I'm very happy about. And it's been gaining readership, too, which is downright exciting!

2. I updated the website for Fiesta Cinco de Mayo (a fundraiser for the Missionary Servants of the Word Sisters who staff two parishes in our diocese). I am really excited about the updates.

I added a blog to the site so that people could see what the Sisters are doing every couple of weeks throughout the year. These ladies are amazing! Truly! Their work with evangelization is flourishing here, so please keep them in your prayers. And if you've got the inclination, and a few bucks to spare, please consider sponsoring their work.

3. I actually managed to close my computer, turn off my screens and visit with my husband for an hour last night. I tend to get lost in my work and ignore my "real people". This is a small success. Really. An hour out of twenty-four is paltry compared to the gifts that he gives to me. But it is a start.

4. I have five artists cued up for the Catholic Artist Spotlight Feature that begins on February 12th at CatholicMom.com.  I can't wait to share their stories and work with everyone. Now, I just have to make their responses into posts!

The goal for this new feature is to point to the visual and performing artists among us, whether their art is specifically religious or not. Beauty and the power to create are gifts from God and our faith naturally informs how they are expressed in the arts. In exploring the creative process of an artist, we can draw inspiration for our own lives - even if we don't share those particular talents. Plus, we get to meet new artists!


Do you have some small successes?
Maybe you got a little tiny job done that had been put off for larger tasks. Sometimes those are more important than they might seem.  Share them with us! You can share here in the combox or head over to CatholicMom.com to join in the link-up.

The Lunch Date

With shuffling steps

They entered the shop.

He held the door for her

(He always does.)

She asked about soups,

“Why’dja run outta broccoli?”

The man smiled and joked,

“’Cause they knew you were comin’.”

He gave her a chuckle.

She hid a smirk.

They decided on coffee and donuts instead.

“I’d like that on china,” he politely requested.

“But I’ll take mine in paper,” she quietly contested.

With battle lines drawn

They’ll continue their flirting

‘Til the last drop is drunk

And the sun,

(which shines so brightly)

Is called the moon.

Lawn Chair Catechism Session 13: Humility, Trust and Obedience

This is the final post in the Series, Lawn Chair Catechism for CatholicMom.com. Be sure to check in over there to see how this series has worked in other people's journey toward becoming more intentional disciples.

I have been very lucky to have been on a journey with my husband of 22 years (that's right, next weekend is our anniversary) and I have never really felt alone in my quest. In fact, my husband has been the one to set my feet back on the path time and time again. But, even so, the commonality of purpose among other families (you know, the people who don't leave their shoes in the middle of my living room floor) is very important for feeding my faith.

I was very blessed to find such people when I was still a young mother. There was prayer, discussion, advice, hugs, lots of coffee and lots of love. These are the friends who grieved with us and offered pilgrimages and fasting for our family through some of the most devastating trials a person can imagine. These are the friends who rejoiced when my husband and I put our lives back together, even when members of our own family couldn't understand why we would try again. I treasure their friendships and, though I don't attend Mass with them anymore, I still hold them close in my heart and in my prayers. And when I have the chance to see them, it's like we were never apart.

But, sometimes, you get called where you don't want to go. Sometimes, you get called to walk that path alone for a while. Not because God wants you to be lonely, but because he wants you to really rely on him for your sustenance.  And that's where I am now.

It's not that there are no disciples in my current parish. It's that they all have a completely different experience of life than I do. They are either much older than I am or have a completely different social background. And, as often as I reach out to connect, the connection seems somehow false or inauthentic. It shouldn't be, because we all worship together. We pray together. Their faith and their desire for discipleship is real and I even have friends, but there's a distance that I can't traverse.

Until recently, I had a connection with the Pastor, but this summer we got a new pastor. Of course,with the new pastor have come changes. Some of those changes I am very uncomfortable with. So now, the gulf seems even greater than before. I feel pushed out and abandoned. I feel completely isolated.

And it hurts. Actually, it aches.

Is it time to move on? Should I move aside and let someone who has new ideas and a call to share their gifts with the parish take my place? Have I made my music ministry an idol, as Elizabeth Scalia suggests in her book, "Strange Gods". I am back in school studying something completely new: English, not Music. This is a complete departure from the life I've been living for the past 25 years. I am also a newly-minted empty nester with a grandchild. There are so many possibilities. Do I throw myself into something new, or am I supposed to just stay where I am?

As I have been mulling over how to fix the problem, I have spent a great deal of time in front of the Blessed Sacrament thinking about what to do. Sometimes the noise in my head is so loud that I can't even keep the lines of communication with myself open, much less with God.  But yesterday, in a moment of clarity, I realized that I have been much more concerned with what I want, than what God is calling me to do. All the noise in my head is my own making and if I will just be still, if I will just listen, I will hear. It's not my problem to fix. As usual, I have taken everything on myself and said, "That's okay, God. Hang on. I've got this."

No, I have to have help. Because without God's help that path is terrifying.

Jesus promises that his yoke is easy and his burden is light, but first we have to accept that burden. I have been spending so much time creating my own burdens that I have completely cast off his. It's when we try to walk that road alone, without Jesus, that the yoke becomes hard, the way becomes rocky and narrow, and we fall into despair.

Obedience is never easy. It's especially hard for head-strong ladies like me because it requires true humility. But, it's essential to the life of a disciple. You must humble yourself in order to obey. And you must obey because God would never lie to you. He would never lead you astray.

Thankfully, God is patient with me. He just keeps calling and when I finally accept the burden he gives me, things look much better. So, while having companions on the journey is an important part of the path to God, it's not the only way. Sometimes, you just have to learn to rely on God alone.

How will I continue the work I've begun this summer? For right now, I plan to stay put. This is where God put me and this is where I am needed. The Sisters and I plan to begin our English Bible Class in September and we'll see where that takes us next. I am hoping that working with a smaller community within the parish and building our faith and knowledge together will help bridge that chasm I am feeling. For right now, I am just walking the path until God shuts doors and trying to remember to be humble and obedient.

How It Happened

I was standing in the gymnasium when I saw him for the first time.  His hair was the color of a slightly oxidized penny and he had a voice and a laugh as big as the whole room.  A mutual friend brought him over to introduce me and, suddenly, I was this full-sized leprechaun's new best friend even though I couldn't remember what his name was.

We sat together in the folding chairs under the yellowish glare of the mercury lights that illuminated the basketball court.  We traded snarky comments about the joy of denim chasuables on which each teen that came before us and each teen that would come after us could leave their mark.  Some had just left a signature.  Some had left primitive rainbows.  Some had left smarmy "I will always love all of you!"s with hearts.

For some, this would be the zenith of a sharp arc of religious fervor that began two weeks ago when they signed up for this retreat and would end in a month when the priest gave a rare homily on chastity or obedience.  Or perhaps they'd last a month, until they were too tired to get up for mass one Sunday morning after a good party the night before. Or perhaps their faith would be eroded away by creeping relativism.  Left to their own devices to determine right from wrong, they would melt away; one to agnosticism, one to the local mega-church and another to paganism - places where they felt like they could control God and His plans for their lives.

Still others would work to burnish their newly minted faith awakening by trying to continue the feelings of warmth and joy they were experiencing today.  These would last a few more years, until they found that being a Catholic isn't always fun and sometimes it's downright uncomfortable.

But for others, it would mark a change in their whole lives; others like my new best friend and me.
As the strains of "Somewhere Out There" died away, we rolled our eyes loudly, and the crowd gathered in a huge circle for a group hug.  We drifted apart, and I forgot all about him.

In a couple of years, though, it would be this new best friend who would track me down by calling all of my classmates until he found me.  It would be he who would rescue my faith from springing up and withering away, by transplanting it into the dark, rich loam of truth and love.  It would be he who divided every care with me and doubled every one of my joys.

There are those that speak of how God sees time.  They speak of the eternal now.  As I age, I begin to see what that means.  Suddenly, twenty-six years seems like the blink of an eye.

The Christmas Tree that I absolutely, positively could not get up before Christmas Eve

Years ago, my husband and I started a tradition born of a conflict between two family traditions. His: Put the tree and every piece of tinsel you can find out on the weekend after Thanksgiving so we can enjoy it all the way through December. Mine: Get the tree up, simply decked out with just enough lights and no tinsel, on the weekend closest to Christmas Eve.

I adored his Mom's fabulous Christmases! And I wanted more flash and dazzle than my Mom did, but I didn't think it was appropriate to put it all up quite so early. So, we compromised and decided that St. Nicholas would "bring" the tree on December 6th. We always put the tree up on the 6th or the weekend closest to it and then it comes down on Epiphany (January 6th). Up for a nice, neat month that brackets the entire Christmas celebration, we thought we had the perfect solution. This worked for years. The kids grew up under this model and there was great joy in the O'Keefe household. But times have changed.

Last year was the first time it happened. The weekend closest to the 6th, we had a concert. The next weekend was a party. As there was the following weekend. And, because I direct choirs, just forget all about evenings. Those are completely booked from November 1st until Christmas Eve.

And so it happened that the children were in bed, we had guests coming over the next day and my husband and I sat sagging on the couch. We stared at the little grouping of trees, set up and lit, but not one ornament on them, at 2 AM, following Midnight Mass. Without looking at each other, we conversed. We were that tired.

"Well," he said," you know, they kind of look nice that way."

"Hmmm...." I replied, kind of absently, "Kind of rustic."

"Maybe we could just leave them that way, " he suggested hopefully.

"Well, I think they need a few ornaments." I said, sitting up a little to get a better view of them. "Maybe we'll just use our very favorite ornaments." I started digging through boxes. "At the very least we have to find Engel Elsa." (Engel Elsa - "Angel Elsa" in English- is our tree topper.)

"OK, we'll just work for a little bit and see where we get."

Well, we worked until 4 AM and the trees were beautiful. We used every ornament in the boxes (once they were open they all came out). The next day we garnered rave reviews of the decoration job, even if we had bags under our eyes, it was worth it. On the downside, we didn't actually take the trees down until February (or so...)

Well, it looks like this year, we are headed in the same direction. When I left for work this morning, there weren't even any lights on the tree. We are as far behind as we were last year. This year, however, I do not have to sing a Midnight Mass, which will make things earlier. Plus, we are planning it all out. We have a dinner planner and snacks for setting the tree up (donuts and mulled cider...). But, of course, anything could happen.

Whatever the outcome, whether the tree is dressed or not, Christmas will come. Just as Jesus comes to us, ready or not, in His birth at Bethlehem. Mary was certainly not prepared to have her baby sleeping in what amounts to the animals' food bowl. I am sure that she never imagined that a manger is where she would lay her Lord and Son. The Shepherds were surely surprised. They were sleeping, after all!

But, Jesus didn't seem too concerned about all the trappings of His Kingship. He was ready to be here. It was the fullness of time. He wasn't embarassed by sleeping in a manger. That was the plan. The star shone brightly and all the angels sang of the Glory of His coming to us on Earth. All we are asked to do is show up and pay him homage, and then go out and tell of His glory.

Not prepared for Christmas?
Maybe the only person that has ever really been ready for Christmas is Jesus.

Painting: Nativity (Holy Night) - Correggio

What time did you say that would be?

Son: Can I have some chocolate milk, Dad?

Husband: Sure, son. (pours milk in a glass) Now what do you say to God for the blessing of chocolate milk?

Son (rolls eyes): *Thank* you.

Husband (chuckles evilly): And what would you say to God if he were German?
Wife raises eyebrows but refrains from responding "Gott sei dank!"

Son (rolls eyes even further back into his head and replies while walking away into the next room): Danke Schoen!
Wife to husband (raising one eyebrow and smirking): So, um.... are you saying that God isn't German?

Son (interjecting from the next room): Of course not, Mom. If He was German He would have given us a time for the end of the world.

Ah Yes! Sociology lessons at the O'Keefe house.

Woodcut: The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by Albrecht Dürer

Anniversary

As I sat at lunch today, eating a sandwich with my husband in honor of our 18th anniversary, I had a memory that I shared with him. I remembered being a child and deciding that what I wanted to get for my parents for their anniversary was "dinner out". So, my brother and I talked to Dad and convinced him (somehow, who knows how) that he should take us all out to dinner for his anniversary.

Michael laughed and said, "And it was your present to him, right?"

I laughed too, "Yeah, 'Hey Dad, we want to take you out to dinner for your anniversary, but we don't have any money, so you have to pay.' Yep. Just like that."

And then Michael said, "Wow! That's a great analogy for the Gift of God's Grace."

"Huh?" I looked up at him a little startled.

"Yeah, think about it. Most people use the analogy of God drawing a picture with you, but really that means you're still doing something. This is much better. You did nothing. Your father gave you the gift of the money to give back to him in the form of a present. Dinner. Grace."

You know, I have been with Michael as his fiancee and then his wife for more than 20 years and he still amazes me. I did nothing that would ever have merited such a wonderful man as I have, but here he is. God has richly blessed me.

Grace.

"We put organs near things that we find most important."

My husband and I just returned from a trip to Philadelphia where we saw and heard the magnificent John Wanamaker Organ in the Macy's, Center City, Philadelphia. It is truly a magnificent instrument. It is known as the largest functioning pipe organ in the world with 28,500 pipes. But, I will tell you that it is a beautiful instrument, as well. We heard all kinds of music played on it in the three concerts that we attended and all of it fit the instrument nicely.

Upon returning home, my husband remarked in a conversation that "We put pipe organs near the things that we find most important," and I began to reflect upon how very true that is.

Pipe organs take a very long time to build. Many, many hours of labor and concentration go into making the music come alive from the throats of those pipes. Each pipe has to be voiced so that it sounds like its neighbor to create a fluidity of sound. Each piece of wood has to be placed and glued in exactly the right spot, with the right amount of pressure to make sure that wind does not escape where it is not supposed to. Every piece of leather has to be perfectly cut and placed and glued so that the notes all play correctly. It is the work of artisans. The people that I work with, fill me with awe. They do all these things so easily. Pipe organs are truly monumental instruments, in every sense of the word.

For centuries, we have put pipe organs into churches. Then, into opera houses. It was not much of a stretch, then, to add them to the posh movie theaters of the 1920's, but it is remarkable to me that the Wanamaker Organ exists in a department store. What are we saying here?

The Wanamaker Organ is a jewel in the "City of Brotherly Love". It stands as a monument to the dream of a man who wanted to be all things to everyone (or at least sell anything that you might need in a place where you would feel special). The beautiful vaulted marble halls of the Wanamaker building now house, not only Macy's, but also several offices. But, one can easily see the grandeur of the original plan: A place where you could buy anything from a ball gown to a new horse. But even now, after the dream has faded and the stark, sterile and familiar Macy's-look has been exacted on the store, the organ still exists and is maintained and played daily. Why?

Because it honors the value of hard work and a dream for something better for ourselves; something greater than the work-a-day lives we lead. It is a finding of the beautiful in that everyday life.

Friendship and Love

In the absence of any original thoughts I might ever have (I am suffering from mondo writer's block) , I am re-posting stuff from my earlier blogging days. It's kind of a cool thing when you read something you wrote 3 years ago and think, "Wow! Did I write that? That was pretty good."

Friendship is Love without wings, so say the French.

I had dinner last night with a couple who, for one reason or another, didn't make it. After 3 years of friendship and then 3 years of marriage they divorced. Now, they are friends. Really. Friends.

I was reminded sharply of the time that my husband and I were divorced about 9 years ago. In the months leading up to our court date, we spoke on the phone every day. We talked about the kids, work, our friends, our faith...anything we could find to talk about. I didn't think I loved my husband anymore, but still I could not imagine life without him.

When we went to the Judge to finalize the papers. We were joking and laughing in the courtroom about his complete inability to remember dates, phone numbers and addresses. I had to prompt him for all of his own contact information. Then, he took the Judge to task for requiring Child Support from me in excess of what he figured I could afford.

My husband's attorney couldn't believe that we were going through with it. As he rode down in the elevator with my mother and me, he looked at me and said, "This was the most interesting case I've ever had. The two of you so obviously care for each other. I can't believe you went through with it."

Frankly, neither could I. And less than a week later (on our 9th anniversary) when I got the signed, sealed divorce decree, I had it in my hand for about 5 minutes before I called my husband and said, "I think we've made a terrible mistake." Within 3 months, we were remarried.

Remembering all this has made me stop and think about friendship and love and how the two are intertwined. One cannot be a friend unless there is love. One cannot love a person unless they are a friend. Love and friendship are two sides of a coin. Without one, the other is valueless.

I have had the experience of loving someone who really should have been just a friend and when the situation became untenable we had to say goodbye. And, having given in to the emotional pull of the relationship, the friendship was almost un-salvageable. The pain was incredible. It felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. What could have been a lovely friendship can never go back to what it should have been. Instead, it became a source of pain and confusion.

My husband of almost 18 years and I started out as friends and it blossomed into something truly beautiful and lasting. Is it completely fireproof? No, but despite the scorch marks and burns, we keep at it. We love and forgive and try to move deeper into understanding each other and being one with each other. Sometimes, it is a decision that we have to make. Yes, sometimes, it is that clinical. And then there are other times, when his kiss still sweeps me off my feet.

So with the longevity of our relationship, the question arises, when the strong emotional pull is gone, is the love really gone? Or is it deeper and so melded with your own being that it doesn't send shock waves through your body anymore? Is it just part of who you are? I think that may be the answer. You're not falling out of love, just entering a new phase of love.

All too often lust is equated with love. The butterflies in the stomach and the pleasant warm sensation you get when you talk with them are nice, but lust turns the person for whom it burns into an object and not a person. Lust asks, "What am I going to get from this relationship." Lust is a "taking" of something from a person. Conversely, Love gives to another person, without necessarily wishing to be recompensed.

We are enriched by every person with whom we converse. Those that we choose to take into our confidence and befriend touch us more deeply. We give a part of ourselves to our friends and they in turn give back to us. And that happens with lovers, too. But, those to whom we give our whole selves mark us even more.

I saw a quote one time that said, "Lovers are not just content to kiss, but they wish to breathe their very souls into one another." This most intimate connection between lovers is what separates the person we love from the other friends in our lives. It is the desire to completely immerse ourselves in the other person and to have immerse themselves in us.

And I think that's the difference between love and friendship: the depth of what we have given and the depth of what we have received.

Cartoon by Sam Brown @ Exploding Dog

Open Letter To My Husband on Father's Day

Dear Honey,

Seventeen years ago on this date, I gave birth to our first child, a son, whom we named for your father (and incidentally, you). As I lay in my hospital bed, pretty near dead from exhaustion, you stroked my forehead as I nursed our son and you told me that this was the very best Father's Day present I could ever give you. Terrified to be a mother, I told you, I couldn't do this alone. You promised me you'd always be there. Now, as our son turns 17, a year away from being a man in his own right I have some things I want you to know.

You are an example to our children of a good father in that you lay your life down for us, as would a good shepherd, and that is what God has called you to do. You provide a good example in the temporal world by your work (you almost never miss a day) and in the spiritual world with your prayer life.

I want to thank you for continually setting the limits, setting the bar and policing the action in the house and on the town. I know you get frustrated with our kids when they get lippy or don't seem to get the idea of "social graces", but they are listening and absorbing. If it's any comfort, I always get compliments on how lovely our children are to have around.

Rebelling is all part of being a teenager, I suppose, but never ever doubt that your children love and adore you. Who else would lead sing-alongs to "The Nightmare Before Christmas", I ask you? Certainly not their mother!

You are a credit to your vocation and we all love you! Thank you so much for being the father of our children. I am no longer terrified to be a mother. I know that no matter what happens, you will be there, as you always are. I feel blessed everyday to have a partner in this life like you!

With All My Love,
Katie

Delicious

We kiss
and the passion rises in my heart
like the sap of a sugar maple,
welling up,
overflowing,
and filling the world with sweetness.





Photo from Southernmost Maple

The Unexpected Christmas

I hope that my pastor will forgive me for talking very specifically about his Christmas Homily. It was the only thing that kept me sane yesterday.

Father's homily was a study in the unexpected gift of the Christ Child. He first spoke about the experience of wanting something specific at Christmas only to discover that you got another set of pajamas from your Aunt Ruth, instead of the BB gun that you wanted. Then, he likened it to the shepherds, who were expecting a King and who instead got a little baby lying in a manger. But, instead of pouting about the change in plans, they were joyful (this is highly condensed and was SO much better at Mass). Father went on to say that when God takes our plans and turns them upside down, that's the time to be most thankful, because it is a gift from God.

Yesterday was an exercise in putting those thoughts into practice.

Christmas is not my favorite day. Christmas is a day full of unspoken and spoken expectations that sometimes are not met.

OK...almost never met.

It isn't so much the present that you didn't get, but the reactions of people to the presents that you risked life and limb to get, or the discord within the tired adult siblings in your life, or illness, or the fight that your parents had on Christmas Morning, or a that flat tire you had on the way to church, or the fight that you had with the older relative, or the battle of wits that your smart relative decided to have with an un-armed person...I could go on and on.

At Christmas, more so than at any other time of year, I am stretched to the breaking point. Work is busy, home is busy, church is busy and all of these projects depend on other people doing what you expect them to do; what you HOPE they will do. Human beings make mistakes. They are imperfect and sometimes, they let you down. It's a sad fact of humanity that we don't always get everything done exactly perfectly. It has plagued me for many, many Christmases. No matter how hard I try for "the perfect Christmas", something always gets in my way and makes it fall short.

The real challenge of Christmas is to recognize the gifts that God gives you and to receive them joyfully. I didn't do such a good job yesterday morning, but I got better as the day progressed and I began to see that all of these things were plans turned inside out and upside down. I realized with a shock at about 5 pm (for too late in the day), that God had been showering us with gifts all day long.

In all the things that happened yesterday to me and to my family, I could see the hand of God shaping and offering His gifts to me and my family:

To the flat tire: an opportunity to take stock of the friends God put in our lives and the knowledge that they want to get to church more often because they are really hungry for God.
To the fighting couple: an opportunity to clear the air and realize that neither one of them was selfish or lazy, just sad for the lost time in raising their kids and the imperfections that marred their day. Oh yes, and the knowledge that they love one another in spite of the imperfections and they would be lost without one another.
To the discordant siblings: an opportunity to offer up the sharp criticisms and realize that you need to mindful of other's struggles in life.
To the one who was ill: a chance to slow down, for once, put your feet up and rest.
To the one didn't get the reaction they were hoping for from the present they worked so hard to get: a realization the Christmas is not about the things you get, but the love that is given to us from God (in sending His Son to us), and from your heart to that of the recipient. It truly IS the thought that counts.
To the one who was disappointed in the gift they got: A realization that someone cared enough to try to please them.
To the one who got in a fight with an older relative (and the older relative, too): an opportunity to take stock of your life and where it's headed. And the chance to change the course before it ends badly.
To the one who got mad about the philosophical discussion: The gift of patience and an appreciation of the gift God gave you of intelligence and a good education (and a really smart Dad).

It was a hectic day, filled with trials and troubles and wonderfully blessed by God. You just have to look for the blessings.

I am reminded of a story about Mother Teresa. Mother Teresa took all inconveniences as blessings. Once, she was stranded in an airport due to inclement weather and was going to miss her speaking engagement. But, instead of trying to move heaven and earth to get there anyway, she simply said, "What a blessing! God has given us time to pray!"

Even the most imperfect Christmas is full of blessings. You just have to see them as blessings.

Merry Christmas! God bless us, every one!

You are here.

I have a tendency to live outside the moment when I am stressed out. I "borrow trouble" and play the "what if" game, or, even better, the "shoulda, coulda, woulda" game.

Recently, when I was getting carried away by stress and over-activity, my husband shared the following thought with me:

"Every now and then, I bend down and touch the ground and say, 'I am right here, right now.' "

I looked at him like he was crazy. But you know what? It helps to remember that there is nothing your can do to change the past. It has passed. There is no point in worrying about the future. It is not always in our control. All we can do is live in the present and make the best decisions we can make.

So, today, with only one or two of my (giant) list of Christmas presents bought (and none wrapped), a to-do list as long as your arm at work, rain pouring from the sky just in time for the morning commute, and 9 masses in the next 5 days, I am touching the ground and saying, "I am right here, right now." And somehow, I'll get through it all.

The Music of Being

It is no secret that I love the Arts and Literature. I have surrounded myself with it. It permeates my very being. The things that I read and look at and sing comprise a more three dimensional picture of who I am as a person.

If you really want to get to know me, ask me what song is playing in my head at the moment. Usually there is a song in my head. Sometimes it stays there for days. "Besame Mucho" (in Spanish, not English) is the latest victim of my attention. It has been playing in my head all week.

Or, you can ask me to sing something for you. How I approach my music is indicative of what the operations of my soul are. I always sing from the inside out. The communication of the meaning of the song and the feelings that it stirs within me are very important to how I interpret the song. Even if I am singing something that I dislike, I always try to put myself in the shoes of the composer. What was he trying to get across to the listener? And somewhere in the middle, I sometimes feel like I lose myself in the music, itself. It becomes part of me and I, part of it. My music provides an intimate look at who I am.

Many times, you will hear voice teachers say that voice is the instrument most intimately connected to the soul of the person. I think that's true. It is the only completely organic instrument. All other instruments are tools created out of something else. I put my heart and soul into my music and so, if you want to know about me, listen to me sing. If I want you to know me, I will sing for you. Music just wells up in my soul and spills over.

I also find that I identify people with pieces of music. Not so much with the lyrics, but the way they move, the cadence of their voice and how their face looks to me at any given moment. When I was a child, I had a friend whose mother I associated with the old Paul Simon song "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover". She was a happily married woman (and still is, by the way) and there was nothing at all in the lyrics that identified her to me, but she moved and spoke in a way that reminded me of the drum cadence at the beginning of each verse.

My daughter will forever be associated with the beautiful Irish Reel that she does to U2's "Elevation". It makes my heart stand still and my eyes water to see the power and confidence that I always wished I had, shine in the face of my child. Consequently, "Elevation" always reminds me of her. Not the words, necessarily, but the power and freedom of the music.

I know...it's an odd thing. But, as Aldous Huxley said, "That which comes closest to expressing the Inexpressible, is music." And I find that that is true. When there are no words for a feeling or a thought, music fills the space of the words for me.

Music defines me. I would not be the person that I am without it. I am constantly expanding my experiences through it; finding new people, new expressions of life and faith, and ways to give voice to beauty and pain. It enriches my life and deepens my understanding of those around me. Without it, my life would be a very dull, two-dimensional place.

My Children: The Strangers

My Children: the strangers
One of the toughest things that I do is being a Mom. It's hard because you raise your children to be strong, independent people, but yet, you want them to obey you, too. I have found, recently, that my kids need to have a little less independence and a little more structure to their lives. Even though we don't have to be eyeball to eyeball with them all the time at this age, they still aren't all grown up yet (even though they look like it!)

My greatest sorrow is the loss of my connection with my children over the last couple of years. Once they hit those teenage years, everything started to shift. I felt like I could take more time for myself and for my relationship with my husband, because they were more independent and able to be on their own more. But in reality, I have left my children drifting without a compass.

One of the things that has always defined our family until recent years has been that we always have dinner together. Unfortunately, with everyone running 15 different directions at once, our "dinner hour" has been shattered. Now, if we have popcorn together, it's a big thing. Even when we go out together, we are fragmented in our discussions. It's always about what's happening next in the day, which is good, but never really gets to the heart of who we are as individuals. It's never really about what we hope for or what our thoughts are.

Michael and I tend to do that kind of talking regularly, between the two of us, and it really helps us live with one another, and we have grown closer over the past couple of years. But we so infrequently spend time with our kids that they are becoming strangers to us.

It seems to be so hard in this active world we live in to take the time to listen to our kids, so we just don't get it done. And that's a shame...because it seems like the only time I talk to them is when I have something to chew them out for, or yet another chore for them to do, or when they are yelling at me about something that the other one did to them.

Maybe part of the magic of being a good mom is taking that time to just sit and listen to the banal chatter about Halo or about AFI or about whatever other subject is the most important thing in my children's life. I feel disconnected with them right now.

And if I am feeling lonely for them, they must be feeling lonely for me, too.

Making the choice

This may be a little shocking to some of you, but sometimes I think about what life might be like without my husband.

Sometimes, it's because I am angry with him and I want him to just drop off the face of the Earth. And sometimes it is just because I need a reality check. Recently, I have found myself thinking about what my life would have been like, had he not ever come into it. Of course, obviously, the children would be missing, but there is so much more.

Would I even be married? I don't know. It's a tricky world out there. There are so many pitfalls and traps to fall into when dealing with the dating world. I have friends who waited until they were 35 or 36 to get married. I don't know that that makes it easier. You know, when they told us that things would be hard for us if we married young, they were wrong. Things were harder.

No one can imagine from the standpoint of an engaged couple, what life might have in store. We had no idea what our lives would be like at 35, when we married at 22. As my husband finally told his mother, "There is no "easy" way to be married. It will always be a challenge, no matter how long we wait." That's when she told me she knew he was ready. But, had I not had the grounding of a good man in my life, I wonder if things would have been different for me.

It is not hard for me to imagine trailing from empty relationship to empty relationship, dragging my heart and soul through the mud of the sexual politics associated with the dating world. All the while, leaving pieces of myself all over the city with the men who used me and then threw me away. I have a tendency to be far too trusting and far too easily led astray by a well placed compliment or the promise of something new and exciting. I could see myself as one of the girls on "Sex and the City", struggling to come to terms with who I am and what I want from my man and never being able to find my way out of the dating labyrinth.

But, that is not how my life turned out. And this is why.

The first thing that my husband brought to me was his faith. Catholicism is so very important to him, that it infuses everything that he does. When he and I were still just friends, I was going through a faith crisis. Michael would talk me through all my questions and give me real answers that I could hang my hat on. My reconversion to Catholicism was and is a gift that was given to me by Michael. Without him, I would have truly been adrift in my search for truth.

Another thing that my husband brought to the table was his love of music. I love music, that's certainly no secret. But, Michael loves to explore his musical world. I am very cautious in my audio explorations. I had never listened to chant and renaissance polyphony before I met him. The entire depth and breadth of my musical experience in these forms were simple chants from the Holy Week masses and Palestrina's "O Bone Jesu". His introduction of these forms to my life was life changing. Until the last few years, my entire musical reputation has been built around chant. He also introduced me to American Folk hymnody and Irish folk music that I would never have listened to on my own.

Michael is also my greatest fan and manager. When I am lagging behind and wanting to throw in the towel, Michael is the cheerleader. When I am too shy to ask people for gigs and references, Michael is there, managing my career. A song that I hear often at weddings (unfortunately) is "Wind Beneath My Wings". I get so tired of the sentiment that, "I am so very important today and its all because you gave everything to me, husband-to-be (or Mom and Dad, or bridesmaids...)" All I hear is, "Prepare to be overshadowed, dude. I am the princess!" Truly, that's what I think of. But, I think it has more to do with the fact that these children have no idea what it's going to be like for them. I can say that Michael has given everything so that I can be a success (heck, so I can just be alive...), but that's after 20 years of relationship. Who can really say that after 20 months of relationship? Or even 4 years?

Every time I think of what it would be like to start over with someone new, I think of how very much the two of us are symbiotic. We would not be who we are now, were it not for each other. We live for each other and because of each other. And the longer I am married, the more I find that I cannot imagine life without my husband, Michael.

He is my best friend, my confidant, my partner in life and my own true love.