Serendipity

 A year after we were married, Diane was cleaning out her old wallet, emptying expired bus tickets, tattered business cards and receipts that had been buried in its recesses for years. As she was doing that, she found a photograph she had cut out of her brother’s all boys high school yearbook more than 7 years before. The face on the photograph was that of a handsome and athletic-looking young man she had once had a crush on. On the flip side of that photo was that of a scrawny-looking lad with rather protruding ears. Diane remembered that when, as a teen, she used to pull out the photo to show it to her girlfriends, she would sometimes accidentally display the wrong side and quickly turn it around exclaiming, “Oh, not him!”

That morning, seven years later, she realized she had married the “scrawny-looking lad” on the flip side of the photograph. Serendipity? Or could it have been Providence…?

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Contagious ! Contagieux !

 Smiling as I remember the giggling and bursts of laughter from my grandchildren at dinner table last night, I feel very grateful that there are many good things that are far more contagious than COVID-19.

Je souris en me rappelant les rires fous de mes petits enfants lors du souper hier soir et je suis reconnaissant qu'il y a beaucoup de bonnes choses qui sont plus contagieux que le COVID-19.

Boomerang

 Louis had Alzheimer’s. I visited him for years every Friday afternoon to spend some time with him. We would often walk to the library to read the newspapers. On the way there, we would invariably stop at a church that was open all day and where the Blessed Sacrament was exposed. We would spend a few minutes in silent prayer before heading for the library. On leaving the church one day, Louis turned to me and said, “Do you know what I prayed for today? I said to God, ‘Do you see that man sitting next to me? Please give him double what he is asking for.’ ” What Louis didn’t know was that the only prayer I made in that church that day was, “Lord, please bless Louis.” When love is freely and generously given to someone near you, it has a tendency to boomerang right back at you and embrace you double fold, ten fold or even a hundred fold.

Playing Cards

Until recently and for 15 years I was part of a volunteer team trained to accompany persons who were in palliative care. Most often, they were still at home and I would go there to spend a few hours with them. Occasionally, I would also visit them at the hospital when their condition worsened. One of the first person assigned to me – let’s call him Mr. L. – was an elderly gentleman who was hospitalized and wanted someone to play cards with him. I saw him weekly for about two months. Each time, the tattered decks of cards were out and ready to be distributed when I arrived. I don’t recall having many conversations with Mr. L. Playing card was foremost in his mind and I suspect he saw talking as a distraction from what was important.

We always played the same game – one I had never heard of before. He never really explained the rules of the game to me, but I assumed I could figure it out as we played. Whenever I thought I had finally done that, he would play a card that made no sense and thus made me think that I still did not understand the rules after all. I later found out from his son that his father could not see the cards very well and he told me not to worry too much about the cards he played or the rules. All that mattered was that he had someone to play cards with him.

When Mr. L. passed away, I went to his funeral. Mr. L. had asked his son to read a short letter he had written addressed to his family. I can’t remember the exact words, but it read something like this, “I have loved you dearly, and I know that you have loved me as well. A love like that never dies. When you get to heaven, I will be waiting for you with a big smile on my face and I will give you a hug. And then, we will sit down together and play cards!"

When I get to heaven, I hope that Mr. L. will invite me to play cards with him and his family. I would then finally be able to learn the rules of the game!

Miracles

I am a fan of miracles. Not the big ones, those that make a big splash. I don’t think I have encountered one of those. If I had, I think I would have felt extremely uncomfortable, like mingling with a crowd of power wielding dignitaries. I have, on the other hand, “met” many small miracles. For example, the flash of fiery red plumage of a cardinal as it bursts in and out of my field of vision and disappears behind the foliage of a tree or the “Je t’aime beaucoup grandpapa” from my grandchildren as I leave their house after a visit. I know these are miracles because of the awe and joy that surge from the deepest part of me every time I experience them.

A few years ago, I wrote about one of those small miracles. I would like to share that text here. It is in French, so my English friends will have to dust off their school French or whip out a translation app to decipher it.

UNE MONTAGE DANS LA MER

Amen, je vous le dis : quiconque dira à cette montagne : « Enlève-toi de là, et va te jeter dans la mer », s’il ne doute pas dans son cœur, mais s’il croit que ce qu’il dit arrivera, cela lui sera accordé ! Marc 11.23

Une foi à déplacer les montagnes ? Qu’arriverait-il si quelqu’un prenait cette parole à la lettre et s’attelait à déplacer de la sorte une montagne – disons une de celles qui se trouvent dans les Rocheuses ; une montagne avec des racines profondes et tenaces. Il faudrait une force inconcevablement immense pour l’arracher au sol où elle est plantée et notre planète tout entière en serait ébranlée. On peut s’imaginer le bruit infernal d’un massif en agonie, les convulsions de la Terre sur des milliers de kilomètres, un soleil éteint par une épaisse couche de débris et un gigantesque tsunami dévastateur : un véritable scénario apocalyptique ! Ce serait certainement spectaculaire et ne manquerait pas de capter l’attention de tout le monde. Mais je doute fort que cela changerait les cœurs de ceux et celles qui en seraient témoins ?

Les miracles que produisent une foi profonde et authentique sont beaucoup plus discrets que cela. Ils passent le plus souvent inaperçus et font rarement les manchettes, même pas en cinquième page d’un petit journal local.

Récemment, une bonne amie s’est retrouvée à l’hôpital pour une intervention chirurgicale qui nécessitait qu’elle y passe une nuit sous observation. Sa voisine, une haïtienne qui ne parlait que le créole, était manifestement angoissée et poussait sporadiquement de grands cris de détresse. Mon amie, ne sachant pas comment communiquer avec la dame autrement, s’est mise à chantonner tout bas pour la calmer. Elle a fait cela toute la nuit. Les cris ont cessé et les autres patients sur l’étage ont pu passer une nuit paisible.

Mon amie aurait pu s’impatienter, se plaindre auprès du personnel de santé, ou se replier sur elle-même et se prendre en pitié à cause du mal qu’elle ressentait. Il est beaucoup plus difficile d’arracher un cœur humain à l’indifférence, à la colère, à la rancune, à la dureté que d’arracher une montagne et de la projeter dans la mer. Quand un cœur s’ouvre à la souffrance d’une autre personne, c’est le royaume de Dieu, la compassion même de Dieu, qui fait irruption dans notre monde. Être capable de s’oublier soi-même et se tourner vers quelqu’un d’autre qui a besoin d’une présence compatissante – voilà pour moi l’étoffe d’un véritable miracle.

Holy Ground

 One of the comments that a previous post focusing on my bald head elicited was that it was a good “parable”. At first, that surprised me. The post was meant simply as an anecdotal retelling of an event in the past. Upon reflection, I realized that such retellings can indeed be “parables”.

Jesus used simple everyday things and events to give us glimpses into what the “Kingdom of God” was like: a lost coin, yeast used in breadmaking, seeds, strained relationships between a Father and his two sons, unjust law makers, heartless rich men, birds and flowers in the field. He never spoke about a bald head but, he did say, “And even the very hair on your head are numbered.” Whenever I hear or read that scripture passage, I imagine Jesus turning to me with a big grin on his face and adding as an aside, “ In your case Gilles, that didn’t take very long did it!”

It is also in simple everyday things that I often get glimpses of God in my life. Things that, for some reason, draw my attention and compel me to keep them in my heart and to mull over them. Sometimes these are heartwarming, and I feel like cradling them gently. At other times, they can be heart wrenching and I must grapple with them for a long while. But in both cases, there comes a time when, like Jacob after his night-long struggle with an angel, I realize that “God was there, and I did not know it.”

Thanksgiving

 In the middle of thanksgiving dinner last night, my six-year-old grandson Victor says, “Because this is such a thankful day, I feel like getting up and giving everyone a hug. He then proceeded to do that. My heart is also full of thanks for all the people I have known and loved, tens of thousands of them – my family, students, colleagues, friends, parishioners… I wish to follow my grandson’s lead: consider yourselves hugged!

Bald Eagle

Diane and I once were asked to be “Mom” and “Dad” for a CORE weekend, a weekend similar to a Cursillo weekend, but adapted for young adults 18-25. I remember the first prep meeting we had with the team members who were to play an active role as leaders (big brothers and big sisters) during the weekend. I had no previous experience moderating a group in that age range and I felt unsure as to how to go about it. At the beginning of the meeting, it was also obvious that the team leaders also felt a bit self-conscious and uneasy. Instinctively, I realized I had to do something to break the ice and lighten things up. I, therefore, took on a solemn air and started speaking, “I have a confession to make. There is something about me that you need to know. Those of you with a keen sense of observation may already suspect it, but I still think I should have it out in the open. I am bald.” The whole group burst out laughing, tension was dissipated, and we had a very good meeting.

You’ve probably heard this joke: “God made only a few perfect heads. The others he covered with hair.” The joke is often told by someone who is self-conscious about his baldness or who is concerned about losing his hair. I am no longer self-conscious about my baldness. It is part of who I have been for over 40 years. I like being bald. I once wrote an article in French entitled, “Of bald heads and other wonders that God made.” That title was not an attempt at being facetious. I believe God makes only perfect heads. They are sometimes covered with hair and sometimes not.

Frogs!

 

I was supervising my grandson Victor yesterday while he was participating in a virtual science class. The topic was the life cycle of frogs. I went over with him the vocabulary related to the development of frogs from egg to adult frog. When I got to the last stage - "adult frog" - he said, "Frogs can't be adults. They are much too small!"

Building Walls

 A few weeks ago, I read a brief article somewhere (I have not been able to find it again) that has haunted me ever since. In the seventeenth century, the plague broke out in several cities of France. As an attempt to control the spread of this terrible disease, plague victims were sometimes walled into their dwelling and left to die. Such was the case with one elderly woman and her granddaughter. Saint Vincent de Paul heard about this, went to her house, and broke through the wall to take care of them. He found that the woman was indeed dying, but not of the plague. She posed no risk of infection whatsoever. The child was not ill at all but would no doubt have died of starvation if Vincent had not intervened.

I can’t help seeing in this anecdote a parallel to what is happening today. Are we at risk of putting walls up between ourselves and others because of our fear of contagion? There is a difference between being cautious – and yes, we should be extremely cautious for our sake and that of others around us – and being afraid. Fear builds walls between people. These walls not only shut other people out, but shut us into ourselves. I pray we do not become a walled-in world.

Facts & Inferences

 Because I felt like having a bit of fun with my students and because I wanted them to learn how to think, I sometimes did rather crazy things with them. On one occasion, before class started, I spoke to one of them and told him that we would be playing a little prank on the rest of the class. Once everybody was seated, I would write two words on the blackboard: facts and inferences. I explained to the student that as soon as I had finished writing the word “inferences”, he was to get up, shout, “I’m not going to take this anymore.”, throw an eraser at me, walk out of the classroom, and slam the door. He was to wait outside the classroom until I called him back in.

The student performed his role to perfection and even managed to hit me on the bald spot on the back of my head. Once he slammed the door, there was dead silence in the classroom. All faces were turned to me waiting to see what I would do. I simply said, “We’re not going to let this upset us. Let’s use it to talk about those two words I wrote on the board. Tell me, what just happened a minute ago?” Hands went up and students volunteered answers to my question. I jotted these down in one or the other column under the two words.

Once we had finished doing this, I went to the door and asked the “angry student” to come in and tell the class why he had behaved the way he did.

With so many poorly drawn conclusions and inferences circulating on social medias, I think I might have to serve as target practice again and draw a bullseye on the back of my head.

Tall Tales

 I love pulling my grand-children’s leg. I put on a straight face and tell them the tallest of tales all the while insisting that it is the absolute truth. I then wait for the moment when they realize that I am feeding them blarney and they roll their eyes, heave out a great groan and say “Ah, grandpapaaaa!!” I remember, for example, telling them, as we passed by a field filled with hundreds of gulls, that it was a gull farm and that the gulls grown there supplied all of Canada with gulls.

One of my proudest moment was when I learned that the grandkids had invented a game called “grandpapa explanations”. The purpose of the game was to come up with the most outlandish explanations for specific events or things.

I realized this morning that I have serious competition as a provider of such blarney. Mr. Trump recently said, with the straightest of faces, that the forest fires on the West coast of the United States was not caused by climate change, but was the result of not raking the leaves and picking up dead branches on the forests’ beds. Now that is powerful tall tale telling! I bet he must be waiting with anticipation for the moment when hundreds of millions of Americans heave a great groan, roll their eyes and say, “Ah, Mr. Truuuummmmppp!”