Lessons from the Ditch

I’m glad I was paying attention years ago when our beloved pastor at the time gave his homily on the Good Samaritan – today’s Gospel reading. You’ve all heard the account of Jesus explaining what it means to be a good neighbor (Luke 10:25-37). On that Sunday, Father Thanh proposed an entirely new perspective: we are the man in the ditch, and God is our merciful Samaritan.

 

Do not let the flood sweep over me, or the deep swallow me up, or the Pit close its mouth over me. Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good; according to your abundant mercy, turn to me. Psalm 69:15-16

 

The psalmist knew many perils lurk to rob us of possessions, joy, comfort and conscious living. He also knew God’s love and mercy are boundless. But we easily forget as we let our worries and anxieties bury us in our own ditches.  I got caught up in thieves’ traps many times in my life, and this special sermon woke me up.

From a young age I was taught to follow the directive to be a good neighbor, be kind, lend a helping hand. And it’s an important lesson. But as an adult in my golden years, the equally great lesson – trust in the love and mercy of my ultimate Good Samaritan became clear. He hears my deepest cries even when I cannot speak and reaches into the pit to lift me up when I cannot even move.

Father Thanh from all those years ago at St. Joseph’s parish in Mandarin, Florida, is now Bishop Thanh Thai Nguyen, Auxiliary Bishop of the Diocese of Orange in California. He is a true shepherd in the footsteps of our Lord as his reach across the years pulled me back to the notes I took during his deeply insightful sermon. As Catholic writers let’s always be ready to capture movements of the Holy Spirit – even during sermons. My poem is the fruit of his words and a receptive heart.

The Good Samaritan

by Paula Veloso Babadi

Waylaid by circumstance,

cast down

to eat dust

on deserted roads,

stripped and stricken

but not annihilated,

others pass by

until your holy hand

and gentle heart

bear me to refuge.

Mercy none else dealt.

Blessed by your benevolence,

healed at your bidding,

I dared not hope –

yet I am whole again.

forever I will seek

to be the Good Samaritan

and

the stranger saved by he

 

Copyright 2022 by Paula Veloso Babadi

The Gift of Red

2008-11-16 021Advent and Christmas were always bright and happy times in my childhood home.  While focus was on preparing for the coming of Christ, mixed in with that anticipation was the fun of decorating.  Red was everywhere and in every room.  My mother made sure our home reflected the joy heralded by the angels of peace on earth and goodwill to all men, with the manger scene a focal point.  We had red plaid table cloths in the dining room and playful elves hanging from every conceivable perch. I came to love the significance of all these bright red and green decorating traditions.

Several years ago, a cardinal perched outside my window one morning. He was a magnificent contrast against the small oak tree in my backyard, and reminded me of my father who faithfully put out black sunflower seeds (the best kind) for the cardinals gracing our home. My mother has kept a stained-glass cardinal on her bedroom window along with a myriad of colored-glass crucifixes, chalices, and other professions of her enduring faith.  She believes that my dad, long gone, signals to her when the cardinals come and visit.

So, my mind wandered the trail of how much the color red permeates our world and how God created so many variations for our delight.  Do you know how many names there are for this color called red?  I didn’t, and so I looked it up and daydreamed about the marvelous range of reds in existence.  But it was the deep scarlet of the cardinal that led me on a path to remember our Savior, not at His birth but at His redemptive sacrifice – and through my father – His teachings from the Sermon on the Mount.  At the end of the trail, one thing was crystal clear to me, one realization that I needed at the time; Jesus loves me , all of us, beyond our imagining, beyond all else in this created world.  I marvel at God’s wisdom in creating a small bird with such power to move the human heart, to lift our spirits toward heaven, and to give me memories of my devout parents.

The following poem was born from the gift of red given to me through inspiring parents.  What memories bring  warmth and comfort to you?  Feel free to share special holiday memories or traditions.

Cardinal Red

More than poinsettias and red curly-ribboned Christmas gifts,
more than glossy lacquered lines of red candy apples in the window,
more than clumsy Crayola-red shapes on a toddler’s first piece of art,
more than sumptuous strawberry-red berries begging to be tasted,
more than the competent clarity of fire engine reds racing to rescue,
the deep scarlet cardinal captures me
in the fleeting seconds of his landing,
in the sound of his song,
in the almost imperceptible rising and falling of his splendid chest.
He breathes life and bleeds red,
as red as the drops of blood2008-11-16 022
falling from our Savior’s wounds
and causes me to remember my father
quoting Matthew 6:26 from his red Douay-Rheims
“ Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow,
nor do they reap, nor gather into barns;
and your heavenly Father feedeth them.
Are not you of much more value than they?”
In this cardinal red moment,
the two hundred and eighty four other shades
referenced in books
cannot compare.

 

 

Remembering Alzheimer’s Patients and their Caregivers

"Alzheimer's Patient" by Gelonida (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

“Alzheimer’s Patient” by Gelonida (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Remembering Alzheimer’s Patients
and their Caregivers

The poem below is NOT from an unknown author, as the graphic indicates. The writer of the poem is Owen Darnell. I am certainly not looking to NOT give credit where credit is due. Thank you, Mr. Darnell–your poem was a great comfort to me and others who have lived with Alzheimer’s patients on a 24/7 basis.

Image may contain: text

 Copyright 2017 Larry Peterson

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