Wednesday Witness: Digging Deeper the Right Way

Awhile back, Facebook served up to me an ad for sarcastic coffee mugs, including one that read “No One Cares. Work Harder.” I recognized it right away as that strain of humor that laments how soft we have become, how prone we are to excuses and taking the easy way out of tough situations—but it didn’t seem funny. 

See, I tend to think I need to handle whatever comes my way in order to measure up. I don’t want to fail or let anyone down, and I struggle to say no or ask for help. Reading that mug felt like the world’s weight settling on my shoulders: I’ll never be caught up. I’ll never retire. I’ll never rest.

Doing good work well is a virtue, but when our efforts become a relentless slog to do more, something changes. An old friend tells me that BUSY means Burdened Under Satan’s Yoke—because, as you’ll recall, Jesus says to take up His yoke, and we will find rest.

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Wednesday Witness: Belong, Believe, Behave

Over the past week or so, I’ve found myself reflecting on a homily delivered by Father Richards some years ago. I have written about it before; the gist of the message was this:

  • People in a group or community often insist that those who want to join behave properly and believe correctly in order to belong (Behave, Believe, Belong).
  • People on the margins, however, need a place to belong, where they can come to believe, and learn to behave (Belong, Believe, Behave).

Belong, Believe, Behave is the natural order of things. From the moment we are born into a family, we need secure attachments to our parents to form healthy, ordered relationships and learn to navigate the world. But once we find our place in the world, we often lose sight of the fact that we ever weren’t a part of it.

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Wednesday Witness: Wanting, Needing, Having

Between Thanksgiving and this coming Monday, when our new refrigerator arrives, my bride and I will have replaced all four major kitchen appliances. These expenditures were practical: Our dishwasher hadn’t worked in a year or more; the electronic oven controls on our gas range worked only if you held your mouth right while pressing the buttons; our microwave struggled to pop popcorn, and the range lights quit working; and our refrigerator/freezer gets hot to the touch.

At the same time, new appliances were not entirely necessary. We had, after all, survived a year without a dishwasher; the oven still worked with a little coaxing; the microwave was still quicker than most other options for a wide range of tasks; and thus far, the fridge is still cold inside, if not outside. And plenty of people live quite comfortably without one or more of these devices.

Over the past couple weeks, as we prepare to tackle some home projects and work on my old truck, I convinced my bride to allow me to upgrade our garage. My work has gone well the past year—I’ve picked up a few extra projects and used the money from one such project to purchase some new hand and power tools and organize them. Now, when I have time to work on projects, I spend far less time looking for tools, purchasing cheap tools for particular tasks, setting up, and cleaning up. I can just get to work.

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Wednesday Witness: Wanting What You Have

There’s a saying I ran across somewhere:

Contentment isn’t having what you want but wanting what you have.

At the time it seemed like wisdom, and there is a grain of truth in it: The more stuff we accumulate, the more we tend to want, so getting everything you want not only doesn’t lead to contentment, but creates a self-defeating cycle of desire for bigger, better, and just MORE things.

Mostly I have made peace with not having the best of everything, and I’ve reached a point in my life at which I am trying to detach and downsize. However, as I attempt to rid myself of so much stuff, I find that I do want what I have. I want it a great deal.

For example, I have accumulated a lot of books over the years. The ones I’ve read and kept are wonderful, and although I could get them at the library if I wanted to read them again, I love my collection and struggle to decide which volumes to part with. The books I haven’t read, I keep in the earnest if foolish hope that I will find time to read them one day soon. Then, I tell myself, if I am unlikely to reread them, I can get rid of them. Why should I get rid of them now?

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Wednesday Witness: At My Door

This column is part of a new, weekly series on what the Lord is doing in my heart, specifically encouraging me to simplify my own life in order practice the virtue of charity and the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. Come back each Wednesday to read the latest!

In last week’s column, I referenced a letter from St. Vincent de Paul, in which he describes our obligation to the poor person at the door. While I was on retreat, the phrase “at the door” stuck with me. We live in a mid-1980s neighborhood in Albertville—a curving, suburban street with split-level homes, mature trees, the barking of dogs, and the laughter of children. We have no beggars, no one camping in the park, no one asking for handouts.

We do, however, have two men with developmental disabilities. Both are about my age (one, a little older; one, a little younger). Both grew up in this neighborhood, and their natural sociability means they know everyone. Both have been friends with us as our family has grown up, until, one by one, my children have aged past them, despite being a generation younger.

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