Sunday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time, July 21, 2024
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Visiting with Vera and Merlie
Brothers and sisters, in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have become near by the blood of Christ.
Last week I visited my Aunt Vera and we facetimed with Uncle Merlie. My father, born the oldest in 1922, was one of four farm kids. Vera, whose nickname has been Sandy all her life, is 94 and Merlin is 98. Uncle Merlie mows his own grass in North Carolina, even though two of his daughters are just around the corner. Both of them are comfortable driving within a few miles of their homes. Uncle Merlie farmed for years. He and Dad exchanged dairy herd duties while each family took occasional vacations. He still reads Successful Farming magazine every month.
Our conversation brought us joy. As we talked it was easier and easier for them to recall bits and pieces of central Illinois farm life during the Depression and World War II, and for me to remember my own dairy farming life in the 1950’s. Together we have lived through a healthy span of years, decades, generations in the 20th and 21st centuries of the third millennium since the birth of Jesus.
Christ came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near, for through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.
In the last few days I’ve discovered that Merlie writes poetry now, and that his brother Roland (my dad, who died age 80 in 2002) played violin and a little guitar when they were growing up. All four Sandel kids have written reminiscences of their growing-up years in Beason and Mt. Pulaski, Illinois, before the war divided them temporarily. Hard work, they all say, marked nearly every day on the farm.
When Sandy and Merlie mention that now the smiles leave their faces for a moment, but then they remember something funny or sweet or kind, and the smiles return. Their spouses are gone, their other two siblings are also gone, but they love each other and talk often, along with their brother-in-law Bob, who is still kicking along with them. Their hard work as kids and teenagers hardened their muscles but not their hearts, and they have worked hard ever since.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Looking through a 14-year-old notebook this morning I saw a scribbled quote from Alphonsus Ligouri, a seventeenth century priest-become-saint. Fr. Ligouri is a bit famous for making a vow never to waste time. He wrote,
“For those who waste time, there is never enough.”
Margaret and I have a favorite belief that in every circumstance, we have been given “more than enough.” So St. Ligouri’s thought caught my eye. I think Uncle Merlie and Aunt Vera never give hard work a second thought; after their childhood it came naturally to them for the rest of their lives.
Of course they wasted time, don’t we all? But not much, and not intentionally, and not without a quick realization.
Wasting time does not mean sleeping or vacationing or making retreat or Sabbath. Those times are the least wasted of all. It’s the trickling away over and over and then feeling awful inside, that’s the wasting part.
Time confuses all of us often. Here’s part of a good short blog that if you choose to read it, will not be a waste of time:
To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade.
To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.
To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.
To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the friends who are waiting to meet.
To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train.
To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident.
To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won a silver medal in the Olympics.
You spread your table before me in the presence of my enemy, and you anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows.
(Jeremiah 23, Psalm 23, Ephesians 2, John 10, Mark 6)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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