Fork in the Road...

Once I was told that if I ever came to a fork in the road I should take it. Well that is precisely what I've mulled over in discernment throughout the last few years of my life. Am I at a fork in the road, and if so where do I take it?
On the twentieth of July, 2009 my Lord helped me answer that question, and I did exactly that, took it. Everything that has come to pass in this last month, every change of place, job, and life style has come from that motionless day. It seems as though I have simply experienced rest from my travels, and with that has come a new sense of interior freedom. To say that the goodness of this life has come by any other means than love would be a lie, as it has been characterized by only one thing - effortlessness. A new spring has come into my life, and I choose to serve the Lord.
To thank those in my life would be too long of a list, suffice to offer thanksgiving to my Lord and my God, for his guidence at that fork, my Spiritual Directors for their holiness and witness, to Katie and all those who have inspired me to strive for holiness, to the whole people of God, Thank You!

Happiness is Love

"Their lives were too human for science, too beautiful for numbers, too sad for diagnosis and too immortal for bound journals."
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/print/200906/happiness?x=31&y=1

Mary's Month! WHAT!

Friday Quote

"Calculation never made a hero."
-- John Henry Newman

Fanciscan Point

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So what does a good seminarian do on a Friday evening in the Month of Mary? Well, I should think it obvious, he should walk along the lake shore with Rosary in hand, Our Lady's intercession up above, and Irish tunes on his lips.
A lot has happened since my last post, which is precisely why I have not posted on the lots. If I had, then the lots would have been more like a little, and then we would have no reason to post. But, thankfully there has been lots, and not little. However, with all this lots it could turn out to be of little meaning, but "since brevity is the soul of wit, I"ll be brief" (Polonius).
This evening, myself and several other guys made our way around the winding road of our school's lake. All in all it measures three miles, which might not be much, but it is everything one needs for a beautiful walk around a three mile lake. About half way around the old blacktop roadway is a moss covered path that leads through the ever thickening forest toward the lake shore. It is a trail worn by years of priests at prayer as well as the occasional family of deer. The seemingly ancient passageway winds its way past the yonder smelly swamp and the spring grasses that have just inhabited the forest floor, and plants you along the east shore line, on a beautiful nook known as Franciscan Point. There you are able to wonder at the miracle of a spring sunset, and take in the silhouette of our chapel's spire as the day draws to a close. It was at this place that the men of Mundelein seminary spent their Friday night.
After setting up the fire pit and grabbing the evermore immobile concrete benches, we sang to our hearts content and then to our voices' detriment. We recalled the Ol' Black and Tans, rejoiced at Ol' Finnegan's Wake, and sang to the Whiskey in the Jar. As the night drew to a close, and our smoke filled eyes screamed out for our concession, we gave into the call of our distant beds and sang our last song to Sweet Molley Malone. We found our way back to the now blackened path and after some searching the old winding blacktop roadway. With the sounds of Dublin's finest pub still ringing in our ears we walked the few miles back to our beds and said our goodnights to our sweet mother, thanking her for her intercession.
Well, perhaps it wasn't so brief, but it was a good Friday night nonetheless. It was either Franciscan Point or the tales of Ugly Tie-day Friday, but I'll save that for another post.

D. It is written

In 2008, the film Slumdog Millionaire hit the world stage and gave testimony to the reality that "it is written" and that indeed there is a writer. In this tale of a young Indian "slumdog" there emerges several great truths that capture and inspire the heart, as he seeks to reunite with his one true love. It is a story of cooperation of man with God's grace, with love triumphant, and God's intamacy with his creation. If you have not watched this movie, go and do so. In the following clip of Father Barron is his commentary on the film, drawing out the truth within (there is some spoilers so watch the film first.)

Friday Quote

"....Love, as mortals understand the word isn't enough. Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country: but none will rise again until it has been buried."
C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Ol' Willie Brown

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It is not often that I post, and even rarer for me to post on something of inspiration. But I was asked by a priest, whom I respect very much, to share this story with all of you and so I do. Perhaps a little background story to begin...
The word on the street is that I am a softy when it comes to the poor, materially or spiritually, and so I have to find little ways to carry out these good desires that the Lord has blessed me with. Over the years these little ways have taken on different forms and titles, but they were all inspired by the same charism given by the Lord. As of late, these little ways have taken on a new form in the way of distributing sandwiches and prayers in the streets of downtown Chicago. So on a given Saturday morning I will drive down to the village train station with my good friend Jamie, and we'll catch the 9:10a to Union Station.
We travel light, typically it is just the two of us, and we bring along two backpacks full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (breakfast of champions, as well as those of us who are not quite champions!). The train line takes about an hour, so we tend to fill the time with childish games and terrible jokes about the unknown lives of all the travelers who are venturing into the city with us. This is of course followed by the hustle and bustle of our departure where I glory in my ability to see over everyone else (that's awful). Eventually, however, we make our way into the streets of Chi-town and life becomes ever more real. That is not to say it becomes serious, but poignantly sincere.
Jamie and I reenacted this very routine, just this day, and our little way was filled with great sincerity. I say this as I remember the tears in Jamie's eyes and the warmth in my heart. Because today we looked into one of our homeless brother's face and there we both saw Christ more profoundly that we had either seen him before. He said his name was Willie Brown. I cannot tell you how tall he was because he was sitting in a wheel chair, which hid his true stature. But I can tell you that he was a man of greatness in his soul. We met him about mid-morning, as the sun was just beginning to break the icy grip of the previous night. He did not appear extraordinary, indeed from first glance Willie was no more than your typical street corner pan-handler. And it was through Willie's weather beaten, street ridden eyes that Christ chose to share with us His great love. Imagine if you will, the two of us, Jamie and I, standing on the Corner of Michigan Ave. and Washington St., there to our left rose the Chicago Cultural Center building and to our right is Millennium Park, two great beauties of Chicago. And yet sitting in front of us, and capturing our full attention is a man wrinkled and toughened, with all the of unpleasantness of the streets written into the creases of his face. We offered him our mere sandwiches, and he offered us the joy of the Lord. He wanted the sandwiches to go to the less fortunate and youthful homeless. He wanted our hearts not to be saddened, but to rejoice with him in all the wonders and gifts of the Lord. He wanted the few dollars we had to go to the new homeless men that he has seen on the street, and more yet he wanted the few dollars he had as well to go to those who were in even greater need than he. Willie looked us both in the eyes as we shook his hand - not because we wanted to leave, but because he knew that there were people who were waiting on our little gifts - and there on that street corner he asked for God's blessing upon us and our lives. Our short friendship, Willie said, 'might not come together again on this earth, but in heaven we will be rejoicing in the Lord forever, together!"
At the end of the block we turned the corner, Jamie with his tears and I with my warmth, and both of us with our sandwiches. I sincerely hope we meet up with Willie on our next little way, but even if -like he said, our short friendship does not meet up again - perhaps by my sharing with you this little story, you might just meet Willie in your own little way.

Catholic in HD

The Vatican's has it's own YouTube channel! Check it!

JMJ
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"I've searched all the parks in all the cities and found no statues of committees."

G.K. Chesterton

Happy New Year

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Pope Benedict XVI writes a beautiful reflection about the concept of "time" and about how the end of the year offers us hope, peace, and an opportunity for change and conversion:

The year is ending. This means, as always, that we spend a few minutes in reflection. We draw up balance-sheets and make an effort to anticipate what the future may bring. For a moment we become conscious of the strange thing called "time," which otherwise we simply use without thinking about it. We feel both the melancholy and the consolation of our own transiency. Much that caused us distress, much that weighed us down and seemed to make progress impossible, has now passed and become quite unimportant. As we look back, difficult days are transfigured in memory, and the now almost forgotten distress leaves us more peaceful and confident, more composed in the face of present threats, for these too will pass. The consolation of transiency: Nothing lasts, no matter how important it claims to be.

But this consoling thought, which gives patience its character of promise, also has its discouraging and saddening aspect. Nothing lasts, and therefore along with the old year not only difficulties but much that is beautiful has passed away, and the more we move beyond the midpoint of our lives, the more poignantly we feel this change of what was once future and then present into something past. We cannot say to any moment: "Stay a while! You are so lovely!" Anything that is within time comes and then passes away.

Our feelings toward the new year show the same ambivalence as our feelings toward the old year. A new beginning is something precious; it brings hope and possibilities as yet undisclosed. "Every beginning has a magic about it that protects us and helps us live" (Herman Hesse) ... What can we say at this moment of transition? First of all, we can do the very human thing the moment urges upon us: we can use the time of reflection in order to stand aside and widen our vision, thus gaining inner freedom and a patient readiness to move on again.