A look into a random Sunday years ago

“He who labors as he prays lifts his heart to God with his hands.”—St. Benedict of Nursia

When I read this quote today, I chuckled a little bit, because it’s become a relatively new habit of mine to pray a Rosary while washing the dishes after dinner.  And because I remembered an entry in my “man-journal” from years ago that dealt with the same subject matter, but on a personal level.  I started my journal back in 2001 to help me cope with Tom’s passing and my thoughts of my own mortality.  I wanted to have something my kids (and hopefully, grandkids) could read years later to get a sense of what their Dad’s inner struggles were, as benign as they are.  My journal morphed into my blogs, and occasionally, I’ll incorporate earlier entries into them.  Here’s my entry, copied and pasted, of a random Sunday:

 

Sunday, June 06, 2004

 

It’s funny, the things you think about when you’re doing things you really don’t want to do.  In my case, mowing the lawn is the one thing I could absolutely give up without a fight. 

My routine is to start by getting out the shovel and cleaning up after the dog.  I hate stepping in shit, or worse yet, tracking it into the house.  Then I get out the weed eater and trim around the house and edge the lawn, all while the dog tries (unsuccessfully) to play with me. 

I don’t think about much of anything during these preliminary steps to mowing the lawn (and keeping Marilyn from nagging me about it).  But as soon as the lawn mower comes out of the garage, I start to think about God and praying.  It could be because, since my one day off from work is Sunday, that’s the day I mow the lawns.  I usually start the yard work right after returning home from Mass.  Or it may be because when I was a child my Mom told me to offer my suffering up to God whenever I was doing something I didn’t like to do.  That advice has always stayed with me.  

For some reason, as I mow the lawn and pray the rosary, I start to think of my Dad, and what he thinks of me, and the way I’ve raised my own family as he watches from Heaven.  I think he’d be proud.  I hope so.

And then, of course, work rears its ugly head, even on Sunday.  It doesn’t matter what position I’ve held, or what company I’ve worked for, I really don’t want to think about work on my only day off.  But I’m not the type of person who can shut off work completely, even on my day off. 

While I was online looking at some information for work, the news came up on the screen reminding me that Ronald Reagan died yesterday.  I’m not surprised that he’s gone now (he was 93 years old), but I am sad, nonetheless.

As they are wont to do, the press was getting reactions from people on the street about the president’s passing.  Most, as expected, were gracious and saddened by his death, yet relieved for Nancy (who has been taking care of Mr. Reagan for ten years through the rapid progression of his Alzheimer’s disease).  But there were a few who actually said they hoped that his brand of conservatism died with him, with no personal feelings on his passing.  I’m frequently dismayed that politics outweighs even compassion in many people.

But then again, think about what a great gift God gave us…the gift of free will to think the way we want to, and to believe or not believe in Him, to show compassion or to show indifference, to love one another or to hate one another. 

For my part, I choose to believe, to be compassionate and to love my fellow human being, despite the times I think they may be doing something I think is unnecessary or stupid.  And in those times, too, I can only say, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”