First Things First

by Joanie Butman

It’s Super Bowl Sunday and the sports analogies will be flying from every pulpit today – especially the 5:00 PM mass where people are anxious to move things along so they can get home for the game. Last year when the pastor came out after mass to give announcements there was a collective audible moan, and I thought, “You’re definitely going to lose some sheep tonight if you don’t keep it brief!”

I think the hype surrounding the Super Bowl is over the top, especially this year because of its proximity to the Big Apple. New York is in a frenzy. Super Bowl Sunday has always been my favorite day to go to the theater because tickets are usually easy to come by and heavily discounted, there’s no traffic and no problem getting reservations for lunch. Plus, I’m always home for the start of the game. I don’t need an entire day to prepare. To my dismay, theaters went dark this year because of all the hoopla and the massive toboggan run the city erected in Times Square turning a 13-block stretch of Broadway into Super Bowl Boulevard. Not to be deterred, I found a theater on the Upper East Side that realizes not everyone succumbs to football hysteria.

Amidst the ubiquitous news coverage this week, I read an interesting story about Kurt Warner’s circuitous route to the 2000 Super Bowl. This wasn’t a ‘golden boy’ story, but a tale of someone who saw sports as his salvation and never gave up on his dream. I won’t relay all the details but suffice it to say his victory in the 2000 Super Bowl and the rest of his career did not come easily or without disappointments, sacrifices, and lots of hard work and determination. The same can be said of his spiritual journey. Warner's magical 1999 season was the turning point in his career, but he maintains the turning point in his life was when he realized that it wasn’t sports that was going to save him but Christ.

We all have a Super Bowl in our life – maybe more than one. It probably won’t be in the limelight like Kurt Warner’s, but I can’t think of a more public arena than life. In much the same way as Kurt Warner’s training helped him achieve his dream, whatever experiences we’ve had are training for our own Super Bowl moment when everything we know comes into play. It could be a dream job or a cancer diagnosis. For a few, it might be grandiose, but for most of us it is in the quietness of an ordinary life where we will face our biggest challenges and have the most impact.

Let's face it, we can't all be MVPs, but we do have moments when Christ's light shines brightly through us for all to see. You don't need to be particularly talented or gifted. When you choose to be available, "there are no limits on how He chooses to use you."  God only asks that we do the best we can with what He’s given us. He gave Kurt Warner athletic ability. Your particular set of gifts and talents might be as a teacher, a janitor, a parent, a pastor, a nurse – it doesn’t matter. There are no unimportant roles in God’s world. The danger lies in comparing yourself to others and thinking they are more important. I have to admit when I was reading about Warner and his gorgeous wife, their perfect family, and their many philanthropic endeavors, I was tempted to feel 'less than.'  A familiar refrain began in my head, "I should be doing more, I should have been a better example to my kids, yada, yada, yada." I'm sure many of you have your own version of that tape. The next morning I received a timely Godwink as I read Rick Warren's reminder, “When you get to Heaven, God isn’t going to say, ‘Why weren’t you more like so and so?’ He’s going to say, ‘Why weren’t you who I made you to be?’” 

There is nothing easy about figuring out God’s playbook for your life. It’s an arduous journey with lots of twists, turns and all kinds of detours and setbacks. I think Kurt Warner could tell you from experience that God’s way is rarely the easy way. Warner may have made it look easy because of his confidence and natural ability, but when he was stacking groceries to make ends meet, I’m sure it didn’t seem easy to him.

It may take years or maybe even a lifetime for you to feel that moment when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are exactly where you are meant to be, doing exactly what He created you for. He’s got a game plan for all of us. We can all choose to use whatever gifts and abilities we’ve been given to glorify God – just like Kurt Warner. When you accomplish that, you won’t need a trophy as acknowledgment. The peace of being in tune with God’s will is reward enough.

The pinnacle of Kurt Warner’s football career might be a Super Bowl win, but his formula for success is his true treasure: faith and family. He continues to use his abilities to glorify God through his First Things First foundation. He and his wife, Brenda, started the foundation to share “their blessings and beliefs with others who have lost hope in themselves, their talents, and life. It is dedicated to impacting lives by promoting Christian values, sharing experiences and providing opportunities to encourage everyone that all things are possible when people seek to put 'first things first.'” That's a noble effort we call all choose to embrace wherever we find ourselves.

What's your formula for success? Who or what do you choose to put first?

Supersize Me!

 by Joanie Butman

In an effort to adopt a healthier lifestyle and determined to shed holiday weight, I enrolled in a jump-start program with a nutritionist. I’ve done fine with some of the changes and failed abysmally with others. The way I look at it, something is better than nothing. If I succeed in cutting out sugar, wheat and caffeine, I’m okay with the rest of my vices. I remind myself often, “Baby steps, Joan. You can’t take a lifetime of bad habits and eliminate all of them in one month. You worked hard to achieve your current mess!” At the first meeting my ‘coach’ warned against the temptation to give up or wallow in remorse after the occasional lapse. She suggested just being more mindful about making better food choices the next day or even the next meal. 

Timely advice as I hosted a surprise birthday party for a friend at my home during my first week. Not one of my wisest choices sabotaging myself three days in. The next morning I opened a hostess gift from one of my guests. I laughed when I saw it because I knew she had just enrolled in the same program. The variety of small forks was meant as encouragement in our portion control struggles. We probably could have used them the night before. Regardless, my work is cut out for me because the second photo is my version of a normal size fork. It’s no mystery as to why I find controlling my weight so difficult. It’s just that at a certain age, food begins to taste better than thin feels. I’m going with the philosophy that old looks better fuller – fills out the wrinkles.

The other reason these forks made me smile is that it brought to mind a favorite story of mine. It’s a little long but worth it.

A Woman and a Fork

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.

"What's that?" came the Pastor's reply.

"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

“That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!"

“So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, ‘What's with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them: ‘Keep your fork. The best is yet to come.’"

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right.

So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.

I can relate to this story more than most because years ago, when I was given a bleak prognosis, I planned my own funeral as well. Obviously, I never had to execute my plans but when the time comes, don’t miss it, it’s going to be great. It was during my planning that I came across this story and chose to add the fork detail to my instructions.

As a Christian, I, too, firmly believe the best is yet to come. I can’t think of a better epitaph to leave as encouragement for others, and you can be sure I won’t be holding any of those little forks when my time comes because I’m going to dig in with wild abandon. This is an area where my super-sized fork is definitely the wiser choice. My appetite for God needn’t be controlled. His grace and blessings know no limits. He’s not about portion control when it comes to serving up His love and the promise of an eternity spent together.

My fork friend has encouraged me on more important issues than dietary ones. She is but one of many women I’ve met through bible study that encourage me to stay the course in my faith program despite those days when I slip up. My questionable choices aren't confined to nutrition, and I can tell you from experience it is a lot easier to change eating habits than behavioral patterns. Slipping up on my diet is one thing; slipping up in my Christian walk is a weightier issue. Thankfully, these women help me remember that with God, every day’s a do-over. Because of His grace, we needn’t give up or wallow in shame. We need only seek His help in making better choices next time. We're all a work in progress.

The best IS yet to come - your best, my best and most importantly, HIS best! Grab your fork people! 

P.S. I'd like to dedicated this essay to the women in my nutrition group who had the courage to admit they fell off the food wagon this week AND to those in my bible study group who share so openly regarding their Christian faux pas. You're in good company sisters.

Reel Issues

by Joanie Butman

Last summer I was sitting on the porch with my father-in-law when he mentioned that his friend, Jack Kervorkian, was coming for a visit. Whoa, his wife’s health must be worse than I thought. “Did you tell Elinor?” I inquired. I know if my spouse invited Dr. Death for lunch, I’d be a little wary – especially if I was 96 and in failing health! Jokingly, I asked whether he had made any plans that we should know about. I don’t know if it was a Freudian slip, but after having to explain my comments about Dr. Death and who he was, I discovered the name of his new friend was not Kervorkian but Ketchopulos.

Well, during my brief respite in Florida over New Year’s, I had the pleasure of meeting my father-in-law’s friend who I will always think of as Jack Kervorkian because Paul continues to slip up and refer to him as such. After meeting Jack and his wife, Debbie, I immediately understood my father-in-law’s affection for this couple. In direct contrast to the namesake Paul confuses him with, this Jack isn’t interested in helping anyone die – but helping them live. He and his wife’s companionship, compassion, generosity, gentleness, and kindness to my 96-yr-old in-laws is a living example of the fruits of the spirit regardless of what their religious beliefs are or are not. I honestly don’t know, nor does it matter.

Jack’s generosity extends to the rest of our family as well. He lent us his boat for an excursion one day and, through no fault of our own, we managed to get it stuck on the boat lift. While attempting to dislodge his boat that was now dangling at a precarious angle, he lent my 17 and 19-yr-old ‘kids’ some fishing poles. After just one cast, my daughter found herself in a tangled mess. Embarrassed to admit her predicament, she spent the next hour trying to detangle her line. Frustrated and fearful, she came in to ask me what she should do. Immediately, I stated the obvious, “Go tell Jack. He’ll help you. He’s right next door.” No way. She was determined to fix it and proceeded to suck my husband and me into her drama – a familiar scenario. I need to add here that Jack is a recently retired professional fisherman so he would be the logical person to ask for help – not a girl from Brooklyn who’s never owned a fishing pole. I can’t tell you why I didn’t insist on going directly to him, but people (especially my kids) don’t necessarily heed good advice anyway.

Fast forward another half hour and we are now in the garage dismantling the entire reel because whatever we tried was just making matters worse. In walks Jack and we are caught in the act. There we were, each holding a different piece of the reel, with a pile of tangled line on the floor. We explain what happened and true to form, Jack’s only response was, “Happens all the time. No problem. It’s easily fixed. Why didn’t you come get me?” He chuckled as he noticed the rudimentary (and inappropriate) tools we were using to no avail. Embarrassed, my daughter continued to apologize even while he assured her that he could and would take care of it. Jack took the rod and the reel in its various pieces and graciously lifted that mess right out of our hands while my daughter and I went to relax at the beach.

Isn’t that what we all do with God on occasion? We get our lives into a tangled mess, and instead of going directly to the only One who has the ability to ease our burden, we struggle in secret, making the situation worse – often dragging those around us into our mess as well. Eventually, if we allow it, He finds us struggling and stumbling amidst the web of our own line. That is when He steps in to free us from our twisted snares, lighten our load, allay our fears, and assure us that He is in control. He is waiting, not in anger but in love, to help us through any situation in which we find ourselves so that we can relax in the comfort and security of His everlasting arms – so much better than a day at the beach.

Christ was passionate about helping people live. He said as much in the gospel of John. “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” That is our blessed assurance – but only if we choose to take advantage of it. My daughter doesn’t necessarily listen to my advice to bring her issues to God any more than she did in seeking Jack’s help, BUT my hope is that by watching me choose to continually seek His presence, guidance, comfort and assurance, she will know the option exists and is readily available to her whenever she chooses. He’s always right next door, waiting for her knock. That’s the best I can offer because it’s a choice everyone has to make for themselves.

Who do you choose as your go-to?

Waiting to Exhale

Is anyone else glad the holidays are over? Sitting by the fire with a cup of coffee last Monday morning, I released an exhale of monumental proportions. “I made it” was my only thought. It wasn’t pretty, but I survived. The marathon of festivities had finally come to a close – and none too soon for me. I thought there was something wrong with me until I heard other women sharing the same sentiment. As I caught up with friends this week, the common lament I heard was, “Thank goodness it’s over” followed by a collective sigh of relief.

I love the holidays, but they’re exhausting and messy – just like life. They may be over, but I still have to undo Christmas, which isn’t nearly as much fun as setting it up. Creating Christmas memories and traditions tends to fall on women for the most part – a daunting task as is the cleanup. It used to take me weeks just to get through all the linens with the septic system already moaning from three days and 30 people. That is until my sister-in-law suggested instituting a BYOSH&T (bring your own sheets and towels) system which helps enormously.

As I began the dismantling process, I thought of the first Christmas. Whatever I was cleaning up pales in comparison to their situation. Childbirth is a messy process under the most sterile conditions. In the filth of a stable with no water or clean linens available, it certainly couldn’t have resembled the peaceful nativity scene we see depicted where Mary appears unruffled and Joseph none the worse for wear either. I don’t know any man who could help his wife through labor without breaking a sweat or running for help.

Though none could match those extreme circumstances, the list of Christmas calamities I heard seemed endless: plumbing issues, hoards of relatives, travel glitches, illness, unexpected guests, difficult weather conditions, personality conflicts, toppling trees, burnt dinners, gift blunders, failed caroling attempts and testy moms with too much to do. The problem is many of us strive to create an idyllic Christmas à la Norman Rockwell but reality is much more complicated, chaotic, and often untidy.

Then it dawned on me. The sole/soul reason Christmas exists is because life isn’t idyllic. That’s why God sent His son – to clean up the mess we created. Christ arrived in a mess, he died in a mess, but that’s not the end of His story or ours. This is the promise of Christmas – that He will ultimately clean up humanity’s mess when He comes again. God’s presence and promises don’t get boxed away until next year but stored in our hearts for a lifetime. His presence and promises are what encourage me to enter the New Year and each day with hope in my heart despite the messy conditions of our world.

Here’s a unique perspective that will give you something to think about this year. Unless you live in a cave, I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase “Jesus is the reason for the season.” True enough from our point of view. However, the real miracle of Christmas is that for Him, WE are the reason for the season.

Christ is the gift that keeps on giving long after the tree is in the trash and the decorations are packed away, but the choice is ours whether or not to accept it.

Personally, I choose to start every day reveling in His gift because it makes the cleanups of life easier in so many ways and gives rest to my weary soul. I don’t want to go through life waiting to exhale. I don’t want to just ‘get through’ each day thinking, “Thank goodness it’s over.” (Though admittedly there are days when that’s the best we can hope for.) I choose to live an abundant life, and I can’t do that without Him. 

Epiphanies Redux

by Joanie Butman

I'm in Florida recuperating from the holidays and the myriad of unwise nutritional choices I made over the past month. My brain and body are suffering from overload. Traveling to a bathing suit destination after overindulging this past month was definitely not a wise choice either. At any rate, I decided to revive the Epiphany blog from last year as the message is timeless and readership has doubled since then. So, to those of you who have read it before, my apologies.

As some of you may know, tomorrow is the Feast of the Epiphany, which commemorates the Wise Men finding Jesus after following a star through the desert. In our family, we call it Little Christmas. We always leave the tree up and the lights on until January 6th which marks the end of the Christmas season but also another new beginning.

Webster defines epiphany as “a sudden realization or the appearance of God.” We’ve all had them; epiphanies, that is, not necessarily witnessing the appearance of God. Eureka* moments when an elusive concept or idea suddenly becomes clear to us. It’s probably safe to say that none of us has had the opportunity to experience being in the presence of the Divine – at least not in the way the Wise Men did. However, I think we all have moments in life that change us forever. Perhaps it’s an event or a person that challenges all that we believe to be true, causing us to view life in a whole new way.

We can all relate to these three relatively unknown individuals – not because we share their wisdom or wealth, but because we share their journey. Aren’t we all at different stages of our own odyssey – searching for meaning and purpose in a world that seems to be spiraling out of control. We’re all traveling towards something (though racing seems to be the norm today). Regardless, the guiding light we choose will be different for everyone. For some, like the magi of old, it will be the light of Christmas, which is manifested in the person of Christ. But for others it might be a belief, a dream, an ambition, or maybe even a person that guides their life’s path. The road you travel will be unique to you. Here’s something to consider. Maybe just choosing to start the journey will allow that which you pursue to find you.

Tony Jarvis, author of With Love and Prayers and a wise man in his own right, gives the most accurate description of what motivates someone like the Wise Men to undertake a journey that many must have considered foolish. It is, I believe, a universal truth that is worthy of consideration on today of all days. He claims, “The search for truth, the search for the meaning of life, begins with the experience of emptiness.”

Some think they (the Wise Men) were sultans or sheiks of minor Middle Eastern states. Why, then, did they leave their comfortable lives behind, the security of their own families, the warmth of their own homes, the convenience of their own community? They had everything anybody could want without leaving home. And, yet, apparently they didn’t. Apparently, something was missing. Apparently, amid all their affluence, all their comfort, all their status, there was something lacking. There was at the heart of all their glittering well-being a gnawing emptiness. And so they left it all behind – at least for a while, driven by this emptiness to look for something that would fulfill them. They longed for something beyond what they had. **

It is so true. I’ve experienced that gnawing emptiness, an uncomfortable feeling of discontent complicated by self-disgust that someone who has been blessed with so much could dare to feel unsatisfied. Yet, I wasn’t yearning for more stuff, but more substance. And so I chose to begin a life-changing journey full of detours, rough terrain, and more questions than answers. The funny thing is...the farther down the path I got, the more comfortable I became with the unknown. The big difference between my journey and that of the magi is that they knew what they were looking for. It took me years to figure out what or who would quench my thirst for meaning and substance, but it was well worth the trip.

It took the Wise Men significantly less time than me, but it was still a lengthy trip to find Christ. It wasn’t an easy journey. I don’t think it is for anyone. I can’t say for sure, but traveling hundreds of miles on a camel can’t be pleasant. There must have been varying weather conditions making it difficult to see the star. They must have lost sight of it from time to time as we all do – but they kept going, confident in their mission but not necessarily of their final destination or else they wouldn’t have had to stop and ask Herod for directions. Despite the obstacles, they dared to believe that which others doubted. On any kind of journey of discovery there are times when it seems futile, when the fog of self-doubt clouds our judgment and nags at our consciousness, questioning the wisdom of the journey. It could even be those around you, not liking your new direction, who try to convince you to turn back and settle for the status quo. Whatever the case may be, we’re all tempted at some point along the way to settle for living with that emptiness rather than choosing to risk leaving the comfort of our old ways of thinking.

That is the crossroad of life – a transition point of some sort – where our choice will define the rest of our lives. It could be an illness, a financial crisis, a tragedy, even a success – something that presents a personal challenge. It doesn’t have to be drastic. It might simply require a change of attitude, a change of priorities, or a change of beliefs, but that will not make it any easier. A wise priest once counseled me, “It is much more difficult to change the way we live than it is to change where we live. The hardest part is giving up old thought patterns and ways of acting and reacting.” That is the beauty and miracle of an epiphany. It changes us forever whether we want it to or not. Our life circumstances may or may not change, but our lives will be fuller and richer from the experience – the gnawing emptiness supplanted with a contentment that defies circumstance.

Jarvis concludes his chapter about the Journey of the Magi with an interesting sentiment about their choice to return home a ‘different’ way:

That may mean nothing more than the literal fact that they went home by a different route to avoid Herod in Jerusalem. But it also may mean that for the rest of their lives there was a difference; that somehow, their lives had been changed forever by their contact with the baby; that the rest of their lives would be lived ‘another way.’

My New Year wish for you is that you choose to begin this year ripe for adventure and open to epiphanies of all kinds. And don’t rule out the appearance of God-ones. I see Him working in the lives of others every day and so can you when you choose to be open to it. It’s all a matter of what you choose to focus on. Even in a tragedy as heinous as the Newtown massacre, one of their local parish priests commented, “ ...no media coverage has even touched the deep, beautiful awakening of faith that has occurred here. Our church has been full of people in prayer without ceasing since this tragedy happened. Love is stronger than death."

Sometimes the light you’re following will be obvious, other times we may have to choose to travel by faith as the Wise Men did. I don’t think Jerry Garcia will go down in the annals of wise men, but he certainly had a large following and moments of clarity. This was one of them…

Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me;

Other times I can barely see.

Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it’s been.

No kidding!

*Eureka is Greek for "I found it." 

**With Love and Prayers, Pg. 147-149