June 26: Glass of Whiskey, My Plan, Louise Gluck, "Utopia," New Cartoon

Walking back from the park the day he had been told of his son's decision about the priesthood, he [Ives] went upstairs to his apartment.  His head aching, he drank a glass of whiskey with water and took a couple of aspirins, a twisting feeling shooting through his stomach when he realized his son was serious about his vocation.  Two whiskeys and Ives almost started to feel better.  Then he decided to watch some television, with its unpleasant war news, and--just like that--a quickly consuming bout of stomach cramps came over him.  Washing up, he decided to visit with Ramirez.

Ives' life is not turning out the way he imagined.  His son, Robert, has just told him he's planning to enter the priesthood.  His artistic ambitions have been sidelined by the responsibilities of family.  His work isn't gracing the walls of MoMA.  Instead, it's selling furniture polish in magazines.  Like most people, Ives had dreams, and those dreams have given way to reality.  And that reality is by no means utopian.

Life rarely turns out the way you expect.   I never saw myself working in the health care profession.  I hate being around hospitals and nursing homes and sick people.  Yes, a few dreams have come true for me.  I am a published author.  I teach at a university.  In my spare time, I play in a church praise band.  Music and poetry are a big part of my life.  All those things were a part of my plan.

However, God had other plans for my life.  I have two beautiful kids.  Didn't plan that.  I have a wonderful wife who happens to have bipolar disorder.  Didn't plan that.  My house is small and in need of a lot of repairs currently.  Didn't plan that, either.  Yet, like Ives, I've learned that God's plans for me are bigger and better than anything I could have imagined.

For instance, if it weren't for my daughter's wanting to study ballet, I never would have realized how much I love the art of dance.  If it weren't for my wife, I never would have developed my passion for educating people about mental illness.  If it weren't for my son, I wouldn't know my capacity for love is so bottomless.  Better plans.

So, the upshot of my post today is that perfect lives don't exist.  Movie stars die of drug overdoses.  Siblings get seriously ill.  Presidents start wars.  Parents come down with Alzheimer's.  Terrorists behead humanitarian workers.  Utopia is a fallacy.  But God can take any pile of manure and make daffodils grow.

Saint Marty tries to keep his eyes on the flowers instead of the shit.

Utopia

by:  Louise Gluck

When the train stops, the woman said, you must get on it.  But how will I know, the child asked, it is the right train?  It will be the right train, said the woman, because it is the right time.  A train approached the station; clouds of grayish smoke streamed from the chimney.  How terrified I am, the child thinks, clutching the yellow tulips she will give to her grandmother.  Her hair has been tightly braided to withstand the journey.  Then, without a word, she gets on the train, from which a strange sound comes, not in a language like the one she speaks, something more like a moan or a cry.

Confessions of Saint Marty

June 22: Two Miles, Classic Saint Marty, New Cartoon

I woke up this morning and said to myself, "If it's cold and foggy again, I'm not going running today."

When I stepped outside, it was beautiful, warm, and sunny.  "Well," I said to myself, "if it's like 80 degrees outside when church is over, I am NOT going running today."

When worship was over, I stepped outside.  It was 65 degrees, sunny, with a nice breeze.  "Well," I said to myself as I got into my car, "if my wife is back from grocery shopping when I get home, I'm NOT going running today."

When I got home, my wife wasn't there, and the phone was ringing.  I answered it.

"Hi, honey," my wife said, "I'm on my way home.  I'll be there in about 15 or 20 minutes."

I got changed and went for a run.  Two miles.  I thought it was going to be hideous.  Sore legs, sore lungs, sore feet.  Instead, the run was wonderful.  Granted, when I was done, I felt like I was going to die, but I recovered quickly.  Now, I can have a completely guilt-free day.  I can eat pizza or ice cream or a pound of bacon without a twinge of remorse.  Well, if I eat the bacon, I might feel a twinge, but it will originate in my lower intestine, not my conscience.

Today's Classic Saint Marty comes from 2011.  Exactly three years ago.

June 22, 2011:  Saint Thomas More, Rain, Tired

Yesterday's post was all about the first day of summer.  June 21 was supposed to be the longest day of the year.  It rained almost the entire day.  Today, which is supposed to be just as long as yesterday, has been a day-long downpour.  No sun.  No light.  All my talk about embracing the light in my last post was a waste of time.  When I left the Spiritual Autobiography Workshop last night, the fog was so thick I thought it was snowing when I looked out of the window.  It was dark by 9 p.m.

Perhaps because of this inclement weather, I have felt really tired today.  I've been trying to cut back on the amount of Diet Mountain Dew I drink, holding myself to one can per day.  This morning, I had my allotted can, but by lunchtime, I was falling asleep.  I am currently chugging down my second can of Dew.  I'm perking up a little bit, but I still can't quite get up to speed.  My mind is working about three bulbs short of a chandelier.  I'm hoping I'll get a second wind soon.

Today's feast saint is Thomas More, patron of lawyers.  Thomas More is probably most famous for standing up to Henry VIII, refusing to "render allegiance to the King as the Head of the Church of England."  Thomas was imprisoned in the Tower of London and, about a year and a half later, was beheaded for treason.  His last words were that he was dying "the King's good servant--but God's first."  During his lifetime, Thomas was a prolific author.  His most famous work is Utopia, about a fictional island state named Utopia.  In the book, More discusses things like religious tolerance, female priests, married priests, and divorce.

Being from a "mixed" marriage--I was raised Catholic, my wife is Methodist--I appreciate More's ideas about tolerance.  I've never made a big deal with my daughter about the fact the we go to "Daddy's church" on Saturday and "Mommy's church" on Sunday.  It's just church, and it's all about Jesus.  When my daughter gets a little older, maybe she'll start asking questions and making choices.  But, in a perfect world, maybe in Utopia, such distinctions wouldn't really matter that much.  American Catholics are notoriously liberal in their religious beliefs.  Most Catholics I know wouldn't have a problem with married priests, or female priests, for that matter.  Every Catholic church I know has some kind of support group for divorced Catholics nowadays.  The world really has changed since Thomas More wrote Utopia.  Yet, we still argue about the same things.  Despite his radical ideas, Thomas More became a saint.  He was a man of his time and a man of the future.

In my life, I've had to stand up for a lot of things.  My father almost didn't come to our wedding because we got married in the Methodist church.  (He eventually did come, because we had a Methodist pastor AND a Catholic priest performing the ceremony.)  Many members of my family still struggle with my wife's mental illness and sexual addiction.  Rather than taking up love and compassion, they take up stones to throw.  My life is far from utopia.  Modern society will never be utopia.  I know that.  Thomas More knew that.  But, in my own actions, in the choices I make each day, maybe I make the world just a tiny bit better.

It's all in our hands

On this rainy Wednesday, with my tired mind, I embrace the idea of tolerance.  I embrace the idea of not limiting people because of gender or race or sexual orientation or religion.  I embrace the idea of the healing power of love, as corny as that sounds.  I embrace the idea of utopia.

Saint Marty raises his Mountain Dew to Saint Thomas More.

Confessions of Saint Marty

June 22: Saint Thomas More, Rain, Tired

Yesterday's post was all about the first day of summer.  June 21 was supposed to be the longest day of the year.  It rained almost the entire day.  Today, which is supposed to be just as long as yesterday, has been a day-long downpour.  No sun.  No light.  All my talk about embracing the light in my last post was a waste of time.  When I left the Spiritual Autobiography Workshop last night, the fog was so thick I thought it was snowing when I looked out of the window.  It was dark by 9 p.m.

Perhaps because of this inclement weather, I have felt really tired today.  I've been trying to cut back on the amount of Diet Mountain Dew I drink, holding myself to one can per day.  This morning, I had my allotted can, but by lunchtime, I was falling asleep.  I am currently chugging down my second can of Dew.  I'm perking up a little bit, but I still can't quite get up to speed.  My mind is working about three bulbs short of a chandelier.  I'm hoping I'll get a second wind soon.

Today's feast saint is Thomas More, patron of lawyers.  Thomas More is probably most famous for standing up to Henry VIII, refusing to "render allegiance to the King as the Head of the Church of England."  Thomas was imprisoned in the Tower of London and, about a year and a half later, was beheaded for treason.  His last words were that he was dying "the King's good servant--but God's first."  During his lifetime, Thomas was a prolific author.  His most famous work is Utopia, about a fictional island state named Utopia.  In the book, More discusses things like religious tolerance, female priests, married priests, and divorce.

Being from a "mixed" marriage--I was raised Catholic, my wife is Methodist--I appreciate More's ideas about tolerance.  I've never made a big deal with my daughter about the fact the we go to "Daddy's church" on Saturday and "Mommy's church" on Sunday.  It's just church, and it's all about Jesus.  When my daughter gets a little older, maybe she'll start asking questions and making choices.  But, in a perfect world, maybe in Utopia, such distinctions wouldn't really matter that much.  American Catholics are notoriously liberal in their religious beliefs.  Most Catholics I know wouldn't have a problem with married priests, or female priests, for that matter.  Every Catholic church I know has some kind of support group for divorced Catholics nowadays.  The world really has changed since Thomas More wrote Utopia.  Yet, we still argue about the same things.  Despite his radical ideas, Thomas More became a saint.  He was a man of his time and a man of the future.

In my life, I've had to stand up for a lot of things.  My father almost didn't come to our wedding because we got married in the Methodist church.  (He eventually did come, because we had a Methodist pastor AND a Catholic priest performing the ceremony.)  Many members of my family still struggle with my wife's mental illness and sexual addiction.  Rather than taking up love and compassion, they take up stones to throw.  My life is far from utopia.  Modern society will never be utopia.  I know that.  Thomas More knew that.  But, in my own actions, in the choices I make each day, maybe I make the world just a tiny bit better.

It's all in our hands

On this rainy Wednesday, with my tired mind, I embrace the idea of tolerance.  I embrace the idea of not limiting people because of gender or race or sexual preference or religion.  I embrace the idea of the healing power of love, as corny as that sounds.  I embrace the idea of utopia.

Saint Marty raises his Mountain Dew to Saint Thomas More.