The Presence of God

So much of life is made up of things we must do, and so little of things we truly enjoy. The saints, of course, seem to be able to turn all those "must-dos" into gifts, into moments of thanksgiving and praise. I have not yet arrived at that point as I struggle to advance on my spiritual journey. I still have trouble turning mundane tasks into joyous occasions. If, as I take out the garbage, I offer thanks to God for the opportunity to do so...well, it just seems a bit hypocritical, as if my thanksgiving is less than honest. Although I can understand St. Therese's "Little Way," I have not yet been able to put it into practice. This inability to experience joy from the mundane is just more evidence of my spiritual immaturity, but perhaps God will give me a few more years to grow. 

Fortunately God is so wonderfully merciful that, despite my many faults, He has still blessed my life with much to enjoy. Dear Diane, my wife of 48 years, is at the very top of the list. Without her my life would be far less joyful. She has taught me how to give and to take joy in the giving, even in the midst of deep sadness. I have trouble remembering what my life was like before she entered it, or even comprehending how empty it would be without her presence. Other blessings, especially family -- children and grandchildren -- and friends who love us in spite of our oddness, have brought Diane and me much joy. 

To all of this I must add my ordination to the permanent diaconate 20 years ago. That life-changing event has enabled me to do much that I find so very enjoyable. Among these is my facilitation of our parish's two Bible Study sessions. I've now been doing this for over ten years and between these two weekly sessions -- one morning and one evening -- approximately 60 parishioners participate. I'm often thanked for what I bring to these sessions, but what the participants don't realize is how much they have taught me over the years. Perhaps I should tell them this more often.

Because here in central Florida so many of our parishioners fall into the "snowbird" category, we take a break from organized Bible Study during the summer months. It just didn't seem fair that those who went north should miss a summer's worth of studies, and I also needed a break from the weekly sessions. And yet many of our year-round parishioners wanted to continue their studies in some fashion. And so last year I offered a relatively brief Scripture-based course to those who remained here during our summer hiatus. It was open to anyone, not just the regular participants in our Bible Study. 

Last year's course was fairly basic, a three-session overview of the Old Testament. This year I'm a bit more ambitious and have been spending a lot of my so-called "free" time preparing a five-session course that I've decided to call "Temple and the Presence of God." The idea for the course came to me years ago after reading a little book, The Presence of God (1966) by Jean Danielou. Cardinal Danielou was a French Jesuit, one of the Ressourcement theologians who had such a major impact on the Second Vatican Council. The course will focus on Temple in all its manifestations, from the Temple of Creation or Cosmic Temple, to Sinai, Jerusalem, Jesus and His Church, all the way to the Heavenly Temple St. John describes in Revelation -- "I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God almighty and the Lamb" [Rev 21:22]. It trust the participants will find it interesting since it examines the theme of Temple and God's Presence as it runs through all of Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation.

Anyway, all this preoccupation with the Presence of God has had its effect on me. I find myself thinking about it constantly, and especially of God's Presence in the Cosmic Temple of His Creation. Every day Maddie and I -- Maddie's our little Bichon Frise -- take both a morning and evening walk, each a mile or two depending on our collective mood. I especially enjoy our frequent pre-dawn walks when I can delight in the glory of God's creation as manifested in the starlit skies of central Florida. Venus hovers brightly over the Eastern horizon and on many mornings I catch sight of a meteorite or two burning their way through the upper atmosphere. But I must admit, I take far more joy in the sights and sounds of the microcosm close at hand.

I especially enjoy the birds. Before I moved here about the only bird calls I could recognize were blue jays and crows. But thanks to my twice-daily walks through The Villages, I have developed a more discriminating ear and can identify the squawk of the common grackle, the rapid-fire chirps of our many neighborhood cardinals, the brief but strange call of the red-winged blackbird, among many others. And no one can dislike the multiple calls of the mockingbird that seem designed simply to show off this bird's remarkable singing talent. We also have large flocks of black-bellied whistling ducks that amaze by whistling instead of quacking. Another of my favorites are the wonderful sandhill cranes that hangout here in The Villages. These large birds can be heard from afar as they fly over the neighborhood and emit their very loud staccato squawks. They seem to enjoy letting the world know they're up and about.

From these daily encounters with such little pieces of God's Creation I can do nothing else but thank Him for His gift of life. I simply cannot understand how anyone who hears a mockingbird spend several minutes running through its entire repertoire of songs can claim to be an atheist. To me the mockingbird and the sandhill crane and the trail of the meteorite and the brightness of Venus all prove God's Presence and His continued love for us. Indeed, God's care for His creation sends us a message. How did Jesus put it?

"Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?" [Mt 6:26]

He would care for us as well if only we would let Him, if only we would come to realize His love for us.

Yes, God's Presence fills every corner of His Creation, but most miraculously His Presence is within us when we open ourselves to Him. We are, after all, "Temples of the Holy Spirit."

Oops...have to go. It's time for Maddie and me to take a walk.

Dogs and Other of God's Creatures

Living here in The Villages I've become more attuned to that which surrounds me. I suppose it has something to do with retirement and the simple fact that I have more time to notice that which had escaped my notice in the past. In recent years I've also developed the habit of walking a few miles in the early morning. At first these walks were speed-walks of the kind recommended by young, fit, marathon-running doctors -- you know, the irritating sort of physician who expects his patients to be clones of himself. Anyhow, for a while I was doing very well, grinding along at a four-mile-per-hour pace and delighting in the pre-dawn solitude while listening to audio books on my iPhone. I especially enjoyed my audio pilgrimage through the novels of Anthony Trollope. They're really quite wonderful.

Maddie, Ready to Walk

Then, a couple of years ago, we got Maddie, our rescued Bichon Frise, and my routine underwent a major change. This little critter likes (needs) to be walked twice daily, early morning and late afternoon. But except for the occasional short sprint, Maddie is no speed-walker. As a dog she explores the world around her largely through her sense of smell. This demands frequent abrupt stops to inhale those free molecules rising from shrubs, tree trunks, light poles, individual blades of grass, and yes, from fire hydrants. My power walks have become mere strolls interrupted by this little dog's fascination with odors.

People who know -- including Dear Diane -- have told me that I am allowing the dog to rule the master, and that I, the human, should take charge during these walks. I must, they insist, make Maddie walk at my pace, thereby forcing her to ignore all those olfactory stimulants that so attract her. I had decided to do just that when I read an article written by a veterinarian who encourages dog owners to do exactly what I had been doing. Dogs, the writer said, are frustrated hunters that need to sniff and explore their world through their noses. It's their way of connecting with their wild roots. All those smells represent what Jack London labeled a "Call of the Wild" and to prohibit a dog from following this instinctive behavior is nothing less than cruel. Well, as you might imagine, after reading this sound advice I decided to stick with the Maddie-friendly strolls and try to enjoy them. Maddie is happy, I've accommodated, and my doctor will just have to accept this less strenuous regimen. I also miss my audio books, but with Maddie leading the way I need to be more alert to the sound of approaching pickups, cars and golf carts. This rules out ear-buds.

This slower, dog-dictated pace offers another benefit. I have begun to notice things. For example, because I no longer listen to audio books on my walks, I've learned to recognize the calls of many different birds. I've even become acquainted with a few individual birds who inhabit particular trees and greet Maddie and me every morning as we pass by. 

Osprey Perched High-Fish in Talons

On many summer afternoons we see the osprey who perches high in a large live-oak tree in a neighbor's backyard, his talons often clutching a newly caught fish. He lets the world know of his fishing skill by broadcasting a continual series of high-pitched squeaks. He then flies off still clutching the fish. Perhaps he takes it to the nest and feeds the family.

Maddie and I first heard and then spotted our osprey again as we were returning home from this evening's walk. He was perched high in the same tree, but then I noticed a second bird, perhaps a mate. I went inside, grabbed a camera, and was able to catch one of these beautiful birds as it flew off and passed directly overhead.

Our Osprey Directly Overhead

One great blue heron spends his mornings perched, precariously for so large a bird, on the same branch of the same small tree located at the edge of a local pond. He always gives us a glance, finds us uninteresting, and returns to his preening.

Somewhat surprisingly Maddie has no interest in birds, regardless of their size. Ducks, cranes, ibises, herons -- she ignores them all. She's actually walked right alongside a pair of sandhill cranes, with each of the three seemingly oblivious to the others. It's all very odd. Unlike many local dogs, she also ignores the common lizards and rare snakes that cross our path. 

Sandhill Crane in our Front Yard -- a Portrait

It's mammals that interest Maddie, although she seems to discriminate between the domestic and the wild. Remarkably she has never barked or growled at another dog. She greets them all, regardless of their size, with a friendly wagging of her tail. If a dog doesn't respond in kind, she simply backs off. And a few months ago she encountered what I believe was her first cat. She seemed mildly interested, but then decided it wasn't worth her time and returned to her sniffing duties. 

But if Maddie spots a wild mammal -- squirrel, rabbit, muskrat, armadillo, whatever... -- she immediately gives chase. This, of course, stops abruptly once the leash reaches its full extension. She might be a strong little dog, but she weighs only 15 pounds and I weigh...well, considerably more. Just as well, since I doubt she's ever considered what she would do if she actually caught up with one of these wild critters.

One of the more intimidating mammals we have come across is the fox squirrel. A family of these lived in one of our live oak trees in the back yard. I confronted one for a photo op and as you can see, he was not particularly pleased.

Mean-looking Fox Squirrel

Subtropical Florida, of course, also has its share -- actually more than its share -- of insects. Most are easily ignored but every so often one encounters a bug worthy of attention. This occurred a few days ago as Dear Diane and I visited a parishioner. Leaving her house, I couldn't help but notice the largest bug I've ever seen (photo below) clinging to the side of our friend's car. Some sort of cricket or grasshopper, he was at least five inches long (no exaggeration). With the sole exception of butterflies, I really don't care for bugs. Knowing this, my loving spouse gently picked him up and tossed him onto the lawn. This is just one more reason for celebrating our marriage almost 48 years ago.

Jiminy Crickets!!

And so these twice daily walks of ours have given me a new and enhanced appreciation of God's Creation. Ospreys and herons, mockingbirds and cardinals, crickets and black snakes, muskrats and fox squirrels...oh, yes, and black-bellied whistling ducks -- they don't quack, they whistle -- all these wondrous creatures have given me another reason to be joyful, another reason to realize how good being is.

Black-Bellied Whistling Ducks