Monday Message, January 31, 2022
The Rite of Election Packet 2022 will go out in the Monday email blast from the Bishop’s office this afternoon. If you are not in charge of RCIA, please forward the information.
The Institute Update for January 2022 went out last week. I am including it here so you see what the pastors see. Please note that the next series of conversations on Gender Identity are mentioned in that memo. Please RSVP to Carmela if you plan to attend.
Lenten posters will be printed for all parishes and all schools. Plan to pick up yours at the February 23rd event on Gender Identity (see memo above) or at the Catholic Center anytime after February 23rd. No need to order.
This week is the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord and Feast of St. Blaise. Wouldn’t it be nice to work something about either or both of these feasts into your formation?
A few people will be meeting tomorrow (Tuesday) at 11 am to discuss a new communication tool we are looking to develop that will let parishes email and text groups, classes, and even large swaths of parishioners. If you would like to join us, email Carmela for details.
The heat was out at the Donovan home for a few days last week. No hot water either. It got a little chilly inside, so everyone donned more socks and sweaters. There was little complaining, which surprised me, because everyone likes to be comfortable. Perhaps the lack of moaning and groaning had something to do with why the heat was off. It turns out, yours truly got distracted by work and home and family and all the little things that fill my mind that I simply forgot to order oil before we ran out. It was a dumb mistake and one that was fairly predictable. I had even left myself notes to order oil the week before. But then one child was home, another needed a doctor, Mom was buried in Knoxville, and I simply got distracted. The oil tank just ran dry. No oil. No heat.
It doesn’t take a genius to draw the parallel to the rest of our lives – spiritually, emotionally, and mentally – and the tank in the basement. The empty tank, it turns out, was only a symptom of a greater problem. It gave me time to reflect whether I am a person of prayer or whether I try to solve everything on my own? Do I share the things I am struggling with or do I wander around in darkness looking for the proverbial light switch? Do I let my own tank run dry instead of filling it with the peace, love, and joy that comes from true friendship and healthy relationships?
The oil guy came as the snow started to fall and no real damage was done. The blankets and quilts were put away for another time when dad messes up and life returned to normal.
Still, the memory of the empty tank haunts me and serves as a gentle kick in the pants that no man is an island. This week, let’s all check the balance in our emotional bank accounts and check in on those around us that might need some support.