And thus it has come to pass...

Something we all knew was coming down the pass one day was confirmed by my father when I saw him this morning. This something should have been done ten years ago, but all understand why action wasn't taken at that point.

My brother and his wife are divorcing.

It is nothing surprising; it has been a farce for nearly fifteen out of the nineteen years they have been married. The first four weren't all that great, either, but tolerable.

Dad called it from day one: when Bro brought her home to introduce her as his fiancee, they left to go dancing, and there was a long silence. Then, Dad said in a sad voice, "That b***h is going to be trouble." Mom and I pooh-poohed him... but we found out in short order that she was, indeed, trouble, a long list that would take up too much room.

One of the main reasons my brother stuck to it was the very real threat that he would lose his children. His wife has been a little psycho for years; the psychob***h insinuated that my father would molest their children at one point (this was her justification for denying my parents their grandchildren), an insinuation that caused outrage from the top down. Dad was astounded; my poor mother came to me in tears, and after telling me what had transpired, she said, "Your father is not a perfect man, but he is a gentleman, and a kind man," but this accusation was over the top. It broke her heart. "He doesn't deserve this." That was about fifteen years ago. So, the reasoning goes, if she could try and pin something so heinous on Dad, what would she try and pin on my brother if he started divorce proceedings?

It's a first in our family; while it probably should have been done years ago, and while nobody advocates divorce, we all understand and really, it's overdue. I feel sorry for the kids, but my nephew just shrugged, and my niece isn't surprised either (they're 18 and not quite 16, respectively).

And, while there's been tension between myself and my brother for years, I am sorry, so very very sorry. She's going to try to clean him out if she can--not that she needs it; she has a trust and all that. It's just spite. She wants the house, alimony, child support (my niece is almost 16, so not too much longer on that), and whatever else. Nasty grasping harpy.

"But you're Catholic," sneers the cynic from the balcony. "You can't get divorced."

The Church has never wavered on its stance that marriage is a sacrament not to be taken lightly, and not to be disposed of lightly. If in fact my brother pursued an annulment, I think he might get it with some of the incidents that have happened over the years.

I don't think my brother has taken it lightly. I think he's tried, especially for the sake of the kids, although I have to be fair and say he is not blameless. I do know they went to a counselor. I also know that things as they have been can't go on, especially with the poor kids. The kids are sad but know that things can't go on like this.

Via my dad I sense that he's taking it hard. It's been a tough year: Mama dying, his mother-in-law grievously ill, and now this. 2006 has been, in the infamous words of the Queen of England, his annus horribilus.

So I pray for my brother and for his beautiful kids... and that it gets itself done as soon as possible.

Fire On the Mountains... San Bernardino N.F.

I swear, this is the decade of the Berdue… the Big Nasty a couple of years ago in the Front Country and now this. I hope the Angeles takes a break. More information here.

To break up the seriousness of the gravity of the fire situation on the San Bernardino, here is a piece of old humor. For those who have not a clue what wildland fire entails, this gives you a quick idea of what it’s like in a humorous slant.

For my former crewmates and pals from the Berdue, and all those who are fighting wildland fires this year, especially at the one in Joshua Tree… oh, yay, JT… and Cabazon... BE SAFE OUT THERE!

WHEN THE FIRE SEASON IS DONE

One day we will all be returning to a normal life, and it may not be easy. Here are some tips for a slow, sure withdrawal from fireline life:

Make a tape recording of helicopters flying overhead so you can replay it for yourself when you go to bed.

Turn on all the lights in your bedroom before trying to sleep.

Put your stinky, dirty socks beneath your pillow.

Sprinkle some dirt and pine needles on your sheets.

Have the paper deliverer honk their horn for you at 4:00 a.m. A lot.

During the day, turn on a stove burner on to warm and sit on it. Make a sandwich, sit on it, then go and drop it in the dirt in the flower bed. Go and stand beside a full smelly garbage can when you eat it.

Twice a day, hit yourself in the shins with a hammer. (Pulaskis can really appreciate this one! ...Me!)

If you carpool to work, ride in the trunk. Then, tell your carpool driver to forget to pick you up when it’s time to go home.

In the evening, at home, start a fire in the fireplace, close the damper, shut off all the lights and read by flashlight.

For breakfast, cook a nice omelet, pour a cup of coffee, refrigerate both for 15 minutes before putting them on the table. Then, lay your head in the plate and go to sleep.

Veterans of firelines, especially hotshot folks, can add volumes to this old piece of humor I found one time. It could go on and on.

Pray for the firefighters and for all the people whose homes and livelihoods are threatened by these two rompin, stompin fires.

What is Your “Thorn in the Side”?

I went to Mass at the Basilica last night, and one of the readings has been sticking in my head since then.

This Sunday’s second reading, II Corinthians 12:7-10, makes mention of something that has driven Biblical scholars nuts forever: what was St Paul’s “thorn in the side” he refers to. There are no concrete clues in the passage as it was read today:

Brothers and sisters:
That I, Paul, might not become too elated,
because of the abundance of the revelations,
a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan,
to beat me, to keep me from being too elated.
Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me,
but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness.”
I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses,
in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.
Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults,
hardships, persecutions, and constraints,for the sake of Christ;
for when I am weak, then I am strong.

The topic ends at this point.

The footnote in my New American/St Joseph’s Bible says this about the thorn reference: “variously interpreted as a sickness or physical disability, a temptation, or a handicap connected with his apostolic activity. But since the Hebrew ‘thorn in the flesh,’ like English ‘thorn in the side,’ refers to persons, Paul may be referring to some especially persistent and obnoxious opponent.”

No matter the attribution, it’s a powerful passage. A friend from the SFO called today to see when we could get together this week to discuss various matters, and she brought up this reading that she'd listened to at Mass this morning. It was ironic because I was reading the above passage online when she called. I wasn't the only one the reading touched.

Thorn in the side… three times… keep me from being elated. It tells that Paul’s apostolic days were not rosy (not that any of the apostles had it easy!), that he had difficulties from within and without; that whatever this ‘thorn’ was, that it was intolerable to the point where he asked the Lord to take it away not once, but three times. Christ had risen from the worst of treatments, to a criminal’s death. He had asked the Father to take that cup from him in the Garden—as Paul has asked here—and both of them had to submit: Christ for the sake of His Father, Paul for the “sake of Christ.”

But what does that mean for us?

To use a tired expression, we all have our crosses. Some are not as crushing as others, but all have the tendency to make the bearer beg for a break. As Mother Teresa said—and something I used as my email signature for the longest time—“I know God won’t give me anything I can’t handle; I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.” And, essentially, this is what the Lord told Paul. In our vernacular, “suck it up and trust Me.”

It is only human to want to dump our personal crosses. But it is God’s grace to us, as it was said here, that enables us to bear so much. “My grace,” He said, “is sufficient for you,” He said. Sufficient for his every need in his mission, and to overcome whatever angel of Satan was persecuting him.

Notice that there is a positive spin on this, that Paul discovered positive value in his pain: it “keeps me from being too elated.” Overconfidence, perhaps, in his preaching? Or overconfidence due to the visions he alluded to? Also, he has reached a contentment that shall be borne out despite the hardships because God is with him. Christ dwells with him in his weaknesses, thereby becoming all the stronger… as He does for all of us, if we just look for Him.

Which begs for our personal reflection: who and what are the thorns in our lives? Do we trust in His grace and mercy to get through the tough parts of life? Do we truly understand that Christ helps those who are weak if they only believe?

Who/what are the thorns in your life?
How do you deal with them?
Are you resolute in shouldering them?
Or do you try and palm them off as someone else’s problem?
Do you trust God to help you?

God trusted Christ to bear his burden; Christ trusted Paul to carry his. God trusts that we will handle ours.

But do we?

Tired Ramblings from a Tired Mind

I know I’ve been quiet lately; so much on my mind and so much going on. I think “There’s a topic!” only to have the whole thing in my head swept away as something else is plopped on my plate. In a nutshell…

• The most significant thing to happen to me in the last post is seeing my almost-sixteen year old niece for the first time in almost twelve years. She is the only granddaughter in this family, and if we had been allowed, we would have spoiled the girl rotten. I would have recognized her anywhere, because except for the obvious maturing process, her face has not changed a bit. The smiling eyes, the beaming smile… the only difference being that her hair has become almost as dark as her mother’s. Bright, brilliant and beautiful. I loved her when she was little and I love her now, this sprite. One of the last things she said was, “I don’t understand why it took eleven years…” I don’t either, babe. I really don’t. Not my doing or yours.
• Her brother is starting college next month. It doesn’t seem possible that I was there when he was born eighteen Julys ago, but here we are. He’s going for engineering. My God. It makes me feel old, except that I was only sixteen when he was born. So, I am not THAT old.
• I really really really really really really REALLY want to go to a Dallas Cowboys game in Dallas. I’ve been a Dallas fan since I was tiny, and used to go when they’d come and play the Cards here in Phoenix… but that experience sucks and I’d rather not give any of my money to the Bidwells. It would probably be towards October or November, providing the money is free… but what fun that would be! Unfortunately, tickets are astronomical. We’ll see. And besides, I find it interesting that Big Mouth Owens has been quiet as a church mouse lately. I fainted when he did sign with the Cowboys… can Parcells curb his monster ego and motor mouth? Time will tell. In any case…. GO BOYS!!!
• Now that I’ve gained kind of a bird’s eye view of our legal system from my fledgling career as a legal secretary, I can honestly say it’s massively screwed up. Due to confidentiality rules I can’t really say what particular matter I’m thinking of, but I can say that one can sue someone NOT AT FAULT in an incident and drive said defendants into bankruptcy. Pardon the language, but that is BULLSHIT. No wonder the costs of everything are going up.
• The rain of crap never ends. Once poor Mom died, and all the upheaval subsided, I thought that maybe things can be quiet for awhile. NOPE. Dad not only has developed early macular degeneration, but if he doesn’t start taking care of himself, will wind up doing dialysis in a couple of years. My #2 brother is having some health problems as well. Pray that these things remain minor. …please, God…
• TJ has a new job. Sounds good so far.
• In SFO news, I am being pushed to select a mentor. It’s hard. How do you pick when you see some of these people only once a month? The ones I would pick have some big things going on, so I don’t want to add to their chaos. I shall have to really reflect on that.
• Friends from the sponsoring fraternity have really pushed the charismatic end of things on me lately… come join us, or take this book, or we are to gather and share on Eliza… and because Father Evan is no fool, and because I know several dear friends involved with this, I’m inclined to give this movement the benefit of the doubt. That, however, slowly erodes when one of those dear friends, who is a “believer,” sends me an e-mail saying, “As you already know there is a group of diciples [sic] going to see… ” Tell me, which word bothers you like it did me? Not so much that it’s spelled wrong, but it’s the usage of the word. Disciple. It really bothers me.
• The monsoon season started this week with a nice long rain. More, please.
  
  I’m going to stop here. I am having problems sleeping and I’m actually going to bed at a decent hour tonight—maybe not to sleep, but to rest.