Sitting outside my professor’s office I was getting antsier by the minute. It just wasn’t fair and I would tell him so! Dr. Bleasby’s Oral Interpretation class was required for every Speech Major. It was a simple class really. All one had to do was read aloud various pieces of literature in such a way people understood what each reading was about.
In preparation I practiced each assignment for hours in my dorm room to the point where every one was committed to memory. But, no matter what I did, or how much I prepared, I could never manage better than a ‘B’ from Dr. B.
Thoroughly frustrated I had made an appointment under the guise of asking for some “coaching.” In doing so, I figured I would get some answers and have the opportunity to convince him I deserved more A’s than B’s.
In the midst of my third (silent) rehearsal of what I was going to say, the door to Dr. Bleasby’s office suddenly swung open and there he stood. “Come on in Jim,” he said with a friendly smile and a beckoning wave of his hand. He motioned to a leather chair opposite his old wooden desk which he sat behind facing me. The afternoon sun filtered through the window warming the back of my neck.
Dr. Bleasby leaned back in his chair; his glasses perched on the end of his nose and his hands steepled in front of him. He looked like a painting by Norman Rockwell. “How can I help you?” he asked in his soft, mellifluous voice. “I would like to talk to you about these,” I responded, handing the rating sheets across the desk to him. My hand was steady, but my voice quavered a bit. He gave them what appeared to be only a cursory glance, as if he knew exactly what was in each one.
“What about them?” he asked. This was my opening. Leaning in slightly I launched into my well rehearsed rationale for why I deserved A’s and not B’s. Most of my arguments hinged on how hard I had worked and the amount of preparation I had done. Finishing with a flourish I leaned back in my chair crossing my arms.
Dr. Bleasby sat there quietly considering me for a bit, his chair swiveling slightly side to side. Finally he pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and leaned forward over his arms which rested on his desk. “That was a nice little speech Jim,” he said with half a grin. “Your work is just fine and I can tell you spend a lot of time preparing.” “That’s not really the issue though.” “Even your elocution is good, but it’s not pronunciation or inflection that’s your problem.” I listened carefully as he seemed to be getting to his point. “If you want to learn to do this really well the solution is simple.” “You read the words, but you must learn to read the spaces as well.”
Great music requires notes and rests; otherwise what we call music would be nothing but a single tone modulating in pitch and volume. If musical rhythms are made up of rests (spaces) of different durations then the rhythm of our life must be made up of these same “rests” or spaces as well.
Our daily lives are filled with activity and events often overlapping, even occurring simultaneously (what we call multitasking.) Extended periods of activity give us a sense of purpose and a feeling of accomplishment, but they can often mask or distract us from fears of unworthiness or doubt. “If I stop moving something might happen to me.” Or, “If I don’t work all the time I might lose my job.” We seem to operate very successfully on the surface, but the result can be that our lives lack depth or what someone once called “interiority.”
Successful living is not measured by the amount of activity in our lives, but in the content of our lives. This “content” can often only be recognized in times of quiet contemplation and reflection. Otherwise it is like taking a vacation without ever getting off the bus.
In our lives we need to learn to read the spaces as well as the words. In other “words,” along with experiencing daily activity, we must take time to experience the spaces in between. To some of us this may feel like goofing off. Taking a few minutes to ourselves now and then will seem uncomfortable or unnecessary at first. Regardless, take the time to take the time to pause and reflect. Ask yourself “how are things going?” “What have I done well so far today?” “What could I do a little better?” “For what am I grateful today?” “What relationships need mending or tending to?” and so on.
The presence of God is found in the spaces of our lives, not in the flurries of activity. Take time to “read the spaces.” You will find it is the best part of your day.
Dear God: Remind me to meet you in the spaces of my life.
“The spaces between the beads are just as important as the rest of the rosary.” ~Unknown
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Re-Fresh-Ment
“Sometimes the most urgent thing you can possibly do is take a complete rest.” ~Ashleigh Brilliant, English author and cartoonist (b. 1933)
We had scored two coffees in a place where coffee was definitely not the drink of choice. They even had a “bold pick of the day.”
Initially, the cold, icy drizzle had driven us inside to warm up. But the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee had beckoned us like a siren’s song until we succumbed to buying two medium size cups. The counter person placed the cups in front of us as I handed her the requisite payment. “Do you have lids?” I asked, as she handed me the change. “If you turn right ‘round they are just there by the milk and sugar.” “Americans always ask for them,” she added with a smile. The reference was lost on me.
We snapped the lids down on the cups, turned up our collars and headed for the door, waving goodbye as we shouldered it open. The counter person waived back, but there was an expression on her face which I couldn’t quite read...amusement perhaps?
We headed down High Holburn toward Charterhouse Street. We were meeting a friend at St. Etheldreda’s Church (the oldest functioning Catholic Parish in the city). It was brisk and damp, the kind of weather which seeps into your bones, but the excitement of being in London drove out any discomfort we might have experienced. The coffee warmed us as we sipped away while we walked.
We had gone out of our way to avoid looking like Americans: no bright, white athletic shoes, no logo wear and no fanny pack (or bum bag as the English call them). The colors we wore were subdued and we were dressed a bit nicer than the usual tourist. Still, we seemed to catch people staring at us. One old gentleman greeted us with; “Pardon me Yank,” as he squeezed passed me.
We finished our coffees and began looking for a public trash can. There was none to be found. Undaunted , we finally ditched our cups in a public restroom. We reached Ely Place and turned toward St. Etheldreda’s where we found our friend waiting out in front. After a litany of greetings we shared our good fortune at finding an American coffee purveyor right in the heart of London.
“God, you didn’t take your cups out into the street, did you?” she asked dramatically. “That is soooo American.”
Traveling in a foreign country is often a good way to learn more about oneself. That which is common behavior in one country might be looked upon as amusing or even inappropriate in another. We Americans pride ourselves upon being great multi-taskers, particularly when it comes to food and drink. It is habitual for many of us to eat at our work stations and take our liquid refreshment (particularly coffee) whenever we can and wherever we go…even while we drive. A quick trip down any auto accessory aisle will reveal all manner of travel cups, cup holders and even refrigerators for your vehicle.
Unfortunately “multi-tasking” could very well be a euphemism for “being inattentive to more than one thing at a time” and perhaps for “being inconsiderate to more than one person at a time.” During our recent trip to London we learned the joy of “tea time.” What we discovered was the term “Refreshment” is not simply an object but an experience. “Refreshment” applies to not only the beverage, but the time taken to enjoy it.
Being a good steward of time is not simply a matter of the quantity of activity packed into a particular time frame, but the quality of the time spent. We need to find restorative time in our lives... daily periods when we take the time to restore our spirit, mind and body (and our relationships). Rather than gulping the latest energy drink at our desk in the afternoon, perhaps we would be better served to sit down with someone over a cup of tea and a scone just to decompress and clear our heads. We refresh our computers. Perhaps we should take time each day to refresh our lives as well.
Dear God, remind me to take time for refreshment.
Two woodcutters challenged one another to see who could chop the most wood in an eight hour day. The first diligently swung his ax over and over again, never once stopping during the entire eight hour period. At the end of the day, when their respective piles of chopped wood were compared, it was discovered that the second woodsman’s pile was much larger than that of the first. “You cheated!” the first man blurted out. “I watched you! Every hour or so you stopped to rest; I cut wood all day long. How could you have possibly cut more wood than I did?” The second woodsman smiled knowingly. “Yes, it is true I stopped every hour and a half to rest, but while I rested I was sharpening my ax.”
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
We had scored two coffees in a place where coffee was definitely not the drink of choice. They even had a “bold pick of the day.”
Initially, the cold, icy drizzle had driven us inside to warm up. But the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee had beckoned us like a siren’s song until we succumbed to buying two medium size cups. The counter person placed the cups in front of us as I handed her the requisite payment. “Do you have lids?” I asked, as she handed me the change. “If you turn right ‘round they are just there by the milk and sugar.” “Americans always ask for them,” she added with a smile. The reference was lost on me.
We snapped the lids down on the cups, turned up our collars and headed for the door, waving goodbye as we shouldered it open. The counter person waived back, but there was an expression on her face which I couldn’t quite read...amusement perhaps?
We headed down High Holburn toward Charterhouse Street. We were meeting a friend at St. Etheldreda’s Church (the oldest functioning Catholic Parish in the city). It was brisk and damp, the kind of weather which seeps into your bones, but the excitement of being in London drove out any discomfort we might have experienced. The coffee warmed us as we sipped away while we walked.
We had gone out of our way to avoid looking like Americans: no bright, white athletic shoes, no logo wear and no fanny pack (or bum bag as the English call them). The colors we wore were subdued and we were dressed a bit nicer than the usual tourist. Still, we seemed to catch people staring at us. One old gentleman greeted us with; “Pardon me Yank,” as he squeezed passed me.
We finished our coffees and began looking for a public trash can. There was none to be found. Undaunted , we finally ditched our cups in a public restroom. We reached Ely Place and turned toward St. Etheldreda’s where we found our friend waiting out in front. After a litany of greetings we shared our good fortune at finding an American coffee purveyor right in the heart of London.
“God, you didn’t take your cups out into the street, did you?” she asked dramatically. “That is soooo American.”
Traveling in a foreign country is often a good way to learn more about oneself. That which is common behavior in one country might be looked upon as amusing or even inappropriate in another. We Americans pride ourselves upon being great multi-taskers, particularly when it comes to food and drink. It is habitual for many of us to eat at our work stations and take our liquid refreshment (particularly coffee) whenever we can and wherever we go…even while we drive. A quick trip down any auto accessory aisle will reveal all manner of travel cups, cup holders and even refrigerators for your vehicle.
Unfortunately “multi-tasking” could very well be a euphemism for “being inattentive to more than one thing at a time” and perhaps for “being inconsiderate to more than one person at a time.” During our recent trip to London we learned the joy of “tea time.” What we discovered was the term “Refreshment” is not simply an object but an experience. “Refreshment” applies to not only the beverage, but the time taken to enjoy it.
Being a good steward of time is not simply a matter of the quantity of activity packed into a particular time frame, but the quality of the time spent. We need to find restorative time in our lives... daily periods when we take the time to restore our spirit, mind and body (and our relationships). Rather than gulping the latest energy drink at our desk in the afternoon, perhaps we would be better served to sit down with someone over a cup of tea and a scone just to decompress and clear our heads. We refresh our computers. Perhaps we should take time each day to refresh our lives as well.
Dear God, remind me to take time for refreshment.
Two woodcutters challenged one another to see who could chop the most wood in an eight hour day. The first diligently swung his ax over and over again, never once stopping during the entire eight hour period. At the end of the day, when their respective piles of chopped wood were compared, it was discovered that the second woodsman’s pile was much larger than that of the first. “You cheated!” the first man blurted out. “I watched you! Every hour or so you stopped to rest; I cut wood all day long. How could you have possibly cut more wood than I did?” The second woodsman smiled knowingly. “Yes, it is true I stopped every hour and a half to rest, but while I rested I was sharpening my ax.”
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Obituary
“One thing I can still do is pray. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll pray for you” ~Stella Rodzanskas Forte, wife, mother, grandmother, caregiver (1920-2011)
A cold, icy rain was falling as we laid Stella to rest in the old church graveyard. The site, located in southwestern Pennsylvania, overlooked both the house she had lived in most of her life and her Parish Church, St. Luke’s. She had been baptized, married and now buried here.
While Stella never carried the title, she had been a “caregiver” most of her life. She cared for her invalid mother Rosalia for nearly ten years while continuing to run the family store and raising her children Teresa and Peter. She would often sleep on the floor next to her mother’s bed in case Rosalia needed her during the night. Even after her mother died Stella continued to send letters, often containing money, to her mother’s family in Lithuania; a family she had never met nor would ever meet.
Stella’s, and her husband Pete’s, best friends were Marie and Sty. When Sty contracted terminal lung cancer Marie took an unpaid leave of absence from work to care for him. At 2:00 AM one morning the phone rang in Stella’s bedroom. It was Marie. “I just can’t deal with this anymore” she cried. Stella woke Pete. They quickly dressed and made the hour long drive to their friends’ house in Pittsburgh. They stayed three days until Sty died. Even after the burial Stella and Pete went to Marie’s house every weekend to help her clean, cook and do household chores.
When Stella’s neighbor John, started going blind from glaucoma, Stella visited him twice daily taking him his meals, cleaning his house, driving him to doctor’s appointments and helping him pay his bills. Shortly before he died John offered to deed his house to Stella and Pete. They gently refused the gesture.
Throughout most of her life Stella brought groceries to shut-ins, cleaned houses for the elderly, drove people to medical appointments, gave generously to the needy and cooked meals for bereaved families. Finally her own health began to fail and her husband died.
In April of 2007 Stella became a resident of Vintage Senior Living in Simi Valley, California. Crippled with arthritis and suffering from bouts of dementia she spent most of her time confined to a wheel chair in the “Reminiscence” wing of the facility. One would have thought her years of serving others was over, but it was not. Somehow she found a way to be a servant to those who served; a giver of care to other caregivers.
Once she remarked to a Caregiver, “I know I’m old and my head doesn’t work right all the time, but one thing I can still do is pray.” “So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll pray for you.”
Caregivers would seek her out for solace and comfort. “Whenever, I was having a bad day I would go see Stella,” was an often heard comment. Stella offered people her bed when she wasn’t using it, food when they didn’t have any in front of them and money when she didn’t think they were paid enough.
From her little room with a few necessary pieces of furniture and a small closet of basic clothes she proved daily her greatest possessions were love, compassion and generosity. Stella passed quietly into the next world on a Saturday morning at 6:45 AM; three days short of her 91st birthday. Almost poetically her heart beat for 10 minutes after her breathing had ceased.
Many people leave legacies after they die. They leave charitable foundations, buildings, businesses, estates, wills and trusts. But the legacy Stella left us was a legacy of love and compassion. In her own way she was both Mary and Martha. Like Martha, she served at table making sure everyone else was fed and cared for first. But like Mary, she found time to kneel at the feet of Christ by attending Mass daily; a ritual carried on by the ministers to the sick and homebound who visited her weekly.
She created this legacy of love by constantly serving others. It mattered not what she had, but what she gave. Like a member of a religious order she lived simply, proving daily it is not money or power or prestige which makes a difference in this world. If the world is to be saved it will happen through the love, compassion and generosity of people like Stella.
“If you ever need anything, you come to me.” ~Stella Rodzanskas Forte, wife, mother, grandmother, caregiver (1920-2011)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Coordinator for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
A cold, icy rain was falling as we laid Stella to rest in the old church graveyard. The site, located in southwestern Pennsylvania, overlooked both the house she had lived in most of her life and her Parish Church, St. Luke’s. She had been baptized, married and now buried here.
While Stella never carried the title, she had been a “caregiver” most of her life. She cared for her invalid mother Rosalia for nearly ten years while continuing to run the family store and raising her children Teresa and Peter. She would often sleep on the floor next to her mother’s bed in case Rosalia needed her during the night. Even after her mother died Stella continued to send letters, often containing money, to her mother’s family in Lithuania; a family she had never met nor would ever meet.
Stella’s, and her husband Pete’s, best friends were Marie and Sty. When Sty contracted terminal lung cancer Marie took an unpaid leave of absence from work to care for him. At 2:00 AM one morning the phone rang in Stella’s bedroom. It was Marie. “I just can’t deal with this anymore” she cried. Stella woke Pete. They quickly dressed and made the hour long drive to their friends’ house in Pittsburgh. They stayed three days until Sty died. Even after the burial Stella and Pete went to Marie’s house every weekend to help her clean, cook and do household chores.
When Stella’s neighbor John, started going blind from glaucoma, Stella visited him twice daily taking him his meals, cleaning his house, driving him to doctor’s appointments and helping him pay his bills. Shortly before he died John offered to deed his house to Stella and Pete. They gently refused the gesture.
Throughout most of her life Stella brought groceries to shut-ins, cleaned houses for the elderly, drove people to medical appointments, gave generously to the needy and cooked meals for bereaved families. Finally her own health began to fail and her husband died.
In April of 2007 Stella became a resident of Vintage Senior Living in Simi Valley, California. Crippled with arthritis and suffering from bouts of dementia she spent most of her time confined to a wheel chair in the “Reminiscence” wing of the facility. One would have thought her years of serving others was over, but it was not. Somehow she found a way to be a servant to those who served; a giver of care to other caregivers.
Once she remarked to a Caregiver, “I know I’m old and my head doesn’t work right all the time, but one thing I can still do is pray.” “So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll pray for you.”
Caregivers would seek her out for solace and comfort. “Whenever, I was having a bad day I would go see Stella,” was an often heard comment. Stella offered people her bed when she wasn’t using it, food when they didn’t have any in front of them and money when she didn’t think they were paid enough.
From her little room with a few necessary pieces of furniture and a small closet of basic clothes she proved daily her greatest possessions were love, compassion and generosity. Stella passed quietly into the next world on a Saturday morning at 6:45 AM; three days short of her 91st birthday. Almost poetically her heart beat for 10 minutes after her breathing had ceased.
Many people leave legacies after they die. They leave charitable foundations, buildings, businesses, estates, wills and trusts. But the legacy Stella left us was a legacy of love and compassion. In her own way she was both Mary and Martha. Like Martha, she served at table making sure everyone else was fed and cared for first. But like Mary, she found time to kneel at the feet of Christ by attending Mass daily; a ritual carried on by the ministers to the sick and homebound who visited her weekly.
She created this legacy of love by constantly serving others. It mattered not what she had, but what she gave. Like a member of a religious order she lived simply, proving daily it is not money or power or prestige which makes a difference in this world. If the world is to be saved it will happen through the love, compassion and generosity of people like Stella.
“If you ever need anything, you come to me.” ~Stella Rodzanskas Forte, wife, mother, grandmother, caregiver (1920-2011)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Coordinator for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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