Tag: God

Life Topics

The F Word

Jo Toale

Faith is a deep, devoted belief in something that can, often, be intangible.  In religion faith is the foundation of everything.  There is no proof that God exists.  The prayers and scripture could be viewed as hearsay lacking witness or data to back it up.  Faithful practice and spiritual renewal can nourish and strengthen a person. Without strong commitment and devout belief, you may not be able to be part of any religion.  Faith is usually taught at an early age and fostered throughout your life.  As you learn faith in God, you realize it’s not just a commodity of the holy.  Faith applies to all facets of our lives.

Richard Wilbur (1921-2017), the country’s second poet laureate wrote “One does not use poetry…to organize oneself and the world, until one’s world somehow gets out of hand.”  He went on to say, “I feel that the universe is full of glorious energy…and that the ultimate character of things is comely and good.  I am perfectly aware that I say this in the teeth of all sorts of contrary evidence, and that I must be basing it partly on temperament and partly on faith.”

Wilbur’s optimistic view of the world is refreshing, based on his positive and good attitude.  He had faith despite “contrary evidence”, or popular belief.  Wilbur basically tells us, “Call me crazy, but I believe in good even though the world is going to hell.”  Positivity, or just plain looking on the bright side, can be a precursor to having the faith that you need to carry on in the face of adversity.

Growing up, I had faith in my parents, knowing that I would be fed, clothed, and taken care of.  I felt secure and safe.  Mom and Dad had expectations of us and we didn’t want to disappoint.  Their commitment to the family and God was unwavering.  Yes, we were required to go to church and expected to have faith in God.  This was a long process of learning ceremonial rituals and prayers.
However, my parents and religion were just the start of my understanding of faith.

As a parent, I have great faith in my children, knowing that they will do the right thing, make good decisions, and be caring individuals.  They’re not perfect, but they know right from wrong.  I raised them with little religion, but taught them the importance of being dependable, accountable, and kind.  Their character was of great concern to me.  I took my responsibilities seriously, as I tried to build sensible boundaries, follow through with consequences, while leading by example.  Good intentions, right?  Well, I messed up over the years and wasn’t always a good role model.  They saw through my mistakes with love and compassion resulting in mutual faith in each other.

Mostly though, I have faith in myself.  I fall down, but always get back up.  I have faced challenges head on, maybe with slight hesitation.  Change or confrontation can be very difficult.  I remember many times telling myself, often out loud, “you got this, you can do it.”  And, there were times when I had to trust someone I didn’t fully have faith in.  In that case, I would take a leap as they say, and hope for the best.

As Paul wrote in the bible, Philippians 4:8,  “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”   

Yes!  Think about these important things because they will bring joy to your life.  Paul tried to open the minds of people in distress who needed to notice the important things, looking toward the Lord.  In addition, his message brings optimism and faith to those who were lost.  He asks them to think.  Open up your hearts to all that is beautiful.  Similarly, Wilbur’s secular viewpoint echoed Paul’s directive. He subtly admitted his naivete while expressing his feelings of faith in the goodness in the world.

Have a little faith, it’s a big world out there.  Enjoy all of it.

Life Topics

The Wedding

Jo Toale

I stood in the back of the church, tucked behind the side of the windows that look out to the pews.  The flower girls and maids of honor had stepped forward and paced their steps down the aisle to the music.  Looking over to my sons standing near the door, I just stared at them.  I was scared.  They urged me with a head nod to move forward, it was time.  I took a deep breath and slowly moved forward, meeting them at the end of the aisle.  Taking each of their arms, I felt a little reluctant and a bit shaky.  All eyes were on me.  My music was starting.  This was a pivotal moment.  I had waited a long time to get married.

As we slowly moved toward the altar, I felt my life passing in front of my eyes.  I could hardly make out my friends and family in the pews.  My mind was momentarily elsewhere and everywhere, there was no fear, just great anticipation.  I searched for my beloved at the front of the church and focused on his loving face.  He’s always been my rock.  His tear-filled eyes exuded love and urged me forward to be with my best friend, to pledge our love.  Forever.

He took my hand and led me to my ceremonial place, next to him, in front of God.  We were actually doing this.  I had planned and imagined this day for months, but never could know how this moment would feel.  It was magical.  Surreal.  He was smiling and stepped toward me to take my hand.  As I stepped onto the altar, he whispered that I looked beautiful.  I felt beautiful.

We followed the pastor in action and in word, as we did every Sunday.  Except now we were more keenly engaged and committed to the word of God, to this holy sacrament.   As devout Catholics, our marriage depended on it.  We were now the center of attention.  I looked at the stained glass and the altar like I had never seen it before.  I tried to concentrate on the sermon, but tears of joy ran down my face.   I wanted to reach out and kiss him.  Have him hold me for the rest of his life.  As the priest talked, I prayed for strength and devotion, everything my new husband deserved in a partner.

We gave traditional vows, exchanged rings, and made sacred promises.  Promises I shall never ever break.  My tears of joy had been wiped away and I was now captivated in the moment.   Placing the ring on his finger, I made my vows loud and clear for all to hear – in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  He looked deep into my eyes as I pushed the ring onto his finger, wrapping me in a warm blanket of love and hope.  I was pledging my body and soul as I have never done before.

Our marriage will be long and happy.  We have made and kept all our promises, making each other happy for the last twenty-six years.  We may be “newlyweds” however, we have been on a journey together for a long time, growing in love and spirituality.  Our ceremony was an important milestone that we will always cherish.  Bringing our loved ones together to share this commitment was precious and heartfelt.  It is only with the support of the church, friends, and family that this marriage will continue to be a success.  Our hearts are full, our love is strong, and our faith is unbreakable.

Cheers!

Life Topics

And Then There Was Life

Jo Toale

You think when you’re 21 that you will live forever.  Life seemed simple, as you did anything you wanted. If you gained a little weight, all you’d have to do is skip a meal or two and the pounds disappeared.  If you messed up, a simple sorry (not sorry) would be enough.  You were still considered “a kid.”    You went to work, did your job, and went out for the night, every night.  At that age, you knew everything, and weren’t afraid to act like it.  We thought people over forty were ancient, and our parents were relics, who knew absolutely nothing.  Smoking seemed harmless with merely an afterthought, no matter what anyone said about it.
And then there was drinking.

Nearly every time you saw your friends, which was most nights, you would be drinking. Being drunk was often a side-effect of the two ugly sister’s; anxiety and angst.  Parties were planned at the drop of a hat, if planned at all.  We wiped the slate clean using alcohol to erase anything ugly. We’d stop just in time to start a new day looking fabulous after 3 hours of sleep.  We never thought there was any harm in overindulgence, wishing the nights would last forever.  But the nights didn’t last forever.  The years passed quickly, and those nights of destruction paid a toll on all of us.  For some there were mild effects, enough to make you cut down or stop.  For others, there were more serious consequences; DUIs, family and career issues and at the worst, self-loathing.  Then, in a blink, we were fifty and alcohol-soaked relics.
And then there was the liver.

No one saw it coming, except those who really cared. They could see that he was poisoning himself, one sip at a time.  Long ago were the days of not caring.  He was loving, devoted and hard-working; a superhero, and everybody loved him.  He was an intelligent conversationalist, fun to be around, with a hilarious irreverent wit.  A glass of gin was his silent sidekick, full of confidence and ice.  We all drank with contempt, like we were going to war the next day. Alcohol consumed all of our free time, like in the early days.  I must have been in denial, ignoring signs.  Time and consequences could seem like a myth, stealing your breath away.  Until, finally his handsome complexion and brilliant eyes turned the shade of a lemon.
And then there was “the List.”

After a couple of hospitalizations, things were dire.  We had to face the prospect of death, although he never did.  “There’s nothing we can do” said the ICU doctor after he told me the kidneys were shutting down. The liver was struggling, and the doctor explained that liver patients can’t go on dialysis.   I wailed in front of the hospital elevator doors, a totally broken person.  The love of my life was going to die.  If my tears were prayers he would be well by now.  God, luck, whatever, helped him miraculously turn a corner that night.  Each day that followed was a little better than the last.  There were so many doctors and nurses caring for him, like he was their only patient.  So after 10 days of sleeping in a hospital chair, I started to have backaches and hope.  We were going home.

We packed up the few things that we grabbed in a frenzy on the way to the hospital.  I was full of anxiety, as we were starting a new kind of life.  Things were going to be different.  Countless doctor’s visits followed in the weeks after we left, and he was put on “the list.”  I kept telling myself that the list was a promise that nothing could take him away from me.  A lifeline made up of faith and belief he could one day be healed.  However, there was a catch, “He can never drink again” said the doctors, “or he will die.” 
And then there was life. 

Twelve years later, and he hasn’t had a drink.  This superhero, witty, intelligent, love of my life, relic is here to stay.

We are no longer broken people.

Life Topics

Annulment

Jo Toale

If it wasn’t bad enough surviving an abusive marriage, now I’m forced to recount it for others outside my circle of friends.  This stuff is private and hurtful and sensitive.  However, there it is in a list of questions, asking “Why the marriage broke up”, “Were We Good Catholics” etc. etc.  There’s not enough time or energy to express all that went wrong.  Not to mention, it had nothing to do with religion.  My desire to remarry in the Catholic Church has proven to be monumental and slightly insane.  It’s called the Annulment process and it’s awkwardly personal and mildly disturbing.

The requests for mountains of documents and infuriating questions have brought me to a standstill.  What was I thinking?  Is walking down a church isle that important to me?  I’m beginning to wonder.  But, still, I stick to my guns.  Like a good Catholic girl, I honestly answer all the questions not quite understanding why they are important.  “Did I try to have my marriage blessed in the church?”  No.  “Are there any Character witnesses.”  No.  The answer is No. No. and No.  God Damn it.

I understand they want to make sure we are entering this sacrament with full commitment, but do we have to bare our souls in order to please the church?  God knows me.  I mean, really knows me.  I talk to him multiple times a day and am very happy with our relationship.  But, alas, that’s not enough. The line of questioning is supposed to paint a full picture of who I am.  A heathen, who married outside of the church, had no desire to have the marriage blessed, and dissolved a marriage like I was throwing out a dirty rag.

Apparently, a group of priests will hold my future in their hands, judging the answers that I give.  Tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help me God.  OK.  He was mentally unstable and verbally abusive.  Is that what you really want to know?  Do you want to know all the times I sobbed because he called me names and put me down?  Do you want to know how screwed up marriages can be?  Should I have gotten that hot mess blessed in the church?  I don’t think so.

Do I sound bitter?  Well, believe it or not, I am not.  I am going through with this because I am devout member of my church.  Do I like these questions?  Absolutely not!  All I can do is follow through and see where it brings me.  If I’m not a fit Catholic than so be it.  I know my character and am proud of who I am.  If my annulment is not granted, then we fly to Vegas and have Elvis marry us.  It’s going to happen one way or another.

Amen.

Life Topics

Have Mercy

Jo Toale

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I woke up surrounded by strangers.  We boarded the boat at 10pm the night before, in Tokyo Harbor.  My son and I were visiting my brother for 10 days, and my sister-in-law, Hiromi, thought it was a good idea for me to visit her friend on a remote island.  Her friend, Raymond, was teaching English as a second language to the native children of Nijima Island. So, my son and I, alone, boarded the ship not knowing where we were going or who we were going to see.

In the bowels of the boat, we carved out some space on the floor amongst hundreds of Japanese travelers.  These were the economy lodgings; a few square feet of carpet.  Shoes were removed and left in the small aisleway.  Adam and I took our spot, sitting indian-style, and tore open a bag of cheese doodles.  While we crunched on our snack, I could hear muffled conversations that had the word “Americano.”   They were talking about us.  Adam was 5 years old, and gave little notice to his surroundings as he chomped on his food.  But, I became worried with the chatter, as well as the captain rattling off life-saving instructions in Japanese over the loud-speaker.  People listened intently, as they moved their heads from one point of reference to the other.  Obviously, I did not understand where the life jackets were, or where to go in the event of an emergency.  I was screwed.  After realizing this, I nervously glanced over at my sweet child with his face covered in cheese dust. I couldn’t help but smile.

The 10 hour journey was uncomfortable, but we managed with what we had, rolling up our sweatshirts to make pillows.   I opened my eyes in the morning to see palm trees through the portholes.  What an amazing sight.  People were snoring all around me, when in my half-conscience mind, I noticed that Adam was not there.  I momentarily panicked, but realized he couldn’t have gone far.  He was always independent, so his absence was not really a surprise.  I jumped up, put my shoes on in the aisle, and headed to the upper decks.

As I emerged from below, I was in awe of the sight of Japanese fisherman coming from around an island cove.  I squinted in the sun, while watching their tiny boats bobbing up and down in the rough waves.  It looked like at any time one of these waves was going to break the boat into pieces. Each boat would emerge from around a shoreline and speed past our ship every two minutes or so.   The wind was gentle and kind, keeping the air crisp but not cold.  I had one eye on the fisherman and the other looking out for Adam.  He finally appeared chasing a boy a few years older than him.  I turned to embrace him, as he smashed into my legs.

After calming Adam down, we walked along the pristine deck, stopping every few minutes to soak in the sight of the chain of islands we were passing.  The boy and Adam decided to continue their game of chase, as I stood at the railing of the boat.  A Japanese woman walked up to me and started a conversation.  She told me that she was on the boat with her boyfriend, and that they were very happy together.  As the conversation continued, she mentioned that she has a little boy, who she sent away to live with friends in Georgia, USA.  This was important to her because she now had a boyfriend and there was no room in her life for her son.

I listened feeling a bit odd, as I am a single mother and would never send my child away for a boyfriend, but OK.  She then asked me if I was a Christian.  I said yes, and she requested that I pray with her.
I figured it is a duty to pray with a fellow Christian if asked, so I accepted.

She began, “Dear God”
I followed with, “Dear God”
She said, “Have Mercy on Me”
“Have Mercy on me” I continued.

She stopped me right there and corrected me, saying, “No, No, Have Mercy on ME!”
My mind came to a complete halt.  I thought, this woman just deliberately dumped her kid to take on a lover, and she is looking not only for mercy from God, but wanted me to have mercy for her too.  That was too much to take.

“Lady” I said. “You just got rid of your kid for a guy, and think that you need all of God’s mercy for yourself.  It sounds to me like you have everything figured out to suit your needs.”  She implied that I wasn’t worthy to receive mercy, it was all about her.  I was disgusted.

She looked at me with feigned shock, as her boyfriend stepped closer to her.  Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut I thought.  I had a grave vision of this tall, strong guy throwing me overboard, to defend his love.  And me, not knowing where the life rings were or how to scream help in Japanese.  I slowly backed away and said, “have-a-nice-day”, as I tensely shuffled away to collect Adam at the other end of the deck.

We had a wonderful visit with Raymond on Nijima Island, going to the public baths, singing Karaoke and drinking sake.  Adam and I toured the small island, meeting craftsmen in the village.  We enjoyed local treats and traditions.  We even watched the world surfing championships on the beach one day.  So when it was time to go home, I silently asked God for mercy as we boarded the ship to take us back to Tokyo.  I said a few prayers for our safe return, and for the safe return of all on board.

We didn’t have cheese doodles for the return trip.