Love of the Ages

Tonight as family and friends across the nation gathered to celebrate Independence and fireworks, life and love, and as my own family gathered around the bonfire and food, these things which are the Fourth of July, I found myself pondering a thought. I was struck by the vast generational gaps before me. As I interacted with grandparents and great aunts and uncles, and then with their children, my own parents, aunts and uncles, there seemed to be such a disparity.

Swaying on the hammock, looking out at the lake, I contemplated this observation. It seems to me that at the heart of it all is love. From one generation to the next our concept of love has drastically changed; and yet again with our own generation. I found myself, repeatedly, migrating towards my grandparents’ social circle. Why? Their generation LOVES. They radiate it. They are faithful, communal, and humble. They are always looking out for the other. Most of them gave up much in order to give the world to their children.

I do not, however, claim that my grandparents’ generation was without flaw, or my parents’ generation without noteworthy character. I simply mean to say what I observed at a barbecue on the Fourth of July 2009.

I do believe that we have lost something as of late. That our grandparents are wise treasures, looking glasses into simpler times, times of family, hard work, great friends, delicious food, boisterous laughter, resounding joy, and most of all love. Perhaps, if we are wise enough to see this hidden gem, our generation too will find the love of the ages.

Like a Rose

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Pentecost ushered in a new era for the apostles, one overflowing with zeal, passion and fire as the Holy Spirit  filled them. It is appropriate that as the Church celebrates  Pentecost, so to do I celebrate an uprising of the Holy  Spirit within my own soul. As the Lord churns my heart,  my passions and desires begin to emerge on the surface. It  is so beautiful how even our own souls are a mystery to us.  Like a rose that unfolds slowly throughout our lifetime, my heart seems to introduce itself to me time and again in new ways. It is not always a beautiful process, and can often be a painful process, but with the thorns come the uncompromising beauty of the luscious red (or sometimes yellow) petals.