"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  This week has been epic. For not the first time, in the history of the United States, the culture has changed at the hands of the Supreme Court. We all know what happened. Some of us embrace it, and some of us don't. Some of us are thrilled beyond measure, and some of us are not.   And, like all things, this created a worldwide social media frenzy. It wasn't until I got online that the negativity from both sides made my stomach churn. How could we? How could we, as humans who want nothing more than happiness, demean each other? For what reason, did I see many posts of people saying they blocked someone or un-friended them? For what reason do they tolerate and read countless mundane things from this person then when a difference of opinions arises...they no longer can tolerate the sight of their name?   Here is a question, to you who call yourselves Christians: what makes you call out your fellow human beings spouting the idea of: love the sinner hate the sin when your own b

  Since my brother died, I have not celebrated father's day as I once did. These days it consists of wishing my father an almost shy "happy father's day" and moving on. My father, not one for bit to-dos, probably understands. In fact, he may welcome it. But, I feel that most times I don't recognize enough the man he is. Let me tell you about my father:   At 29, he married my mother after a failed marriage of 6 years. He had my brother at 33, and me at 37 (if my math is correct.) My father, a hard-working, non-garish, different type of man. On the outside, to the rest of the world he can seem like an obtuse object of humanness, until they get to know him. To the rest of the world he can seem like not much matters other than being respected, until they get to know him.   That's the thing: my father is a guidepost. He has always and will forever be a great father. He is someone that is a constant, and when the world gets a glimpse inside the man that I see, the

  Never has freedom been explicitly defined. It is one of those things that comes to us in a moment and leaves us feeling light and unfettered. But, what does it mean? I am not one to believe that things in life are subjective, but those things that I can't hold to a moral bound I can label subjective. This is one of them.   I follow this kid on Tumblr. In 2005, he decided to ask one question, "What does freedom mean to you." Since then and still he has collected responses from presidents, actors, athletes, and what the rest of us consider ourselves: the ordinary. And, when I read one of these cards, I try to ask myself that question but get stuck.   This week a friend, on FaceBook, posted this quote, "The only way humans have ever figured out of getting somewhere is to leave something behind." Instantly, this quote struck me. I can't stop thinking about it. But, I haven't been thinking about it in a physical sense, but more in a sense of personal dire

I kissed him, and he told me, "You like me more than you say." My reply, "In the end it doesn't matter."   I can't remember if I have written about lists or desires or expectations of significant others and the ones we want in our lives, but the idea: of the perfect one...might be shattering. Someone once told me that the older a man gets the shorter his list is and the older the woman the longer. For the last few weeks, I have spent a great deal of time thinking of my own list. It is very short and explicit: taller than me, darker skinned, college educated, good job, and Catholic.   Again, I remember sitting with some very dear friends, at a coffee bar, and they were making me evaluate what it was on my list that was flexible. The thing I came down to, although I didn't adhere to it, was all that truly mattered was that they were Catholic. Since that time, I have been involved with the brown boy and the desire to make a life with the brown one. Both

  I was sitting with a friend, a few weeks back, and they started the conversation like this: "I have never told any one this but..." In that moment, I became not just a secret keeper, but a burden bearer. We have all had this happen to us. We have all done this to others. But why? Is it because we demand community as humans? Is it because we long for intimacy and give someone the ability to delve into the deepest part of ourselves? Is it because the weight of that secret is just too much to bear?    I don't know. As the weeks have past, I have thought about that particular secret that was held so tightly in their heart and was finally given air to breathe. I have thought about the fact that it is no longer a secret but my burden to bear. Sometimes, if I let it get to me...it starts to get heavy.    It reminds me of the time my brother found out the name of my father's ex-wife. For 6 years, my father was married to a woman named Shirley. It wasn't something that

  This past weekend, I was thrust into an almost deja vu moment. I was sitting in the pew of a beautiful church in the hot desert heat of West Texas watching a very dear friend make a solemn promise. However, this time...he was transitioning from deacon to priest. At 26, Ryan Rojo was laid prostrate either mentally berating himself, thoughtfully contemplating, soulfully pleading, or heartfelt praying just waiting for the moment when the Holy Spirit would descend upon him.   Last year,  Bishop Sis gave a homily after the transitional ordination of Ryan. The thing that stood out to me then was this: uncomplicated joy. I still enjoy just saying that phrase. It brings me awe. But, this year it was this: "may you be shepherds that smell like sheep."   Alongside Ryan, there were two other men, Adam Droll and Felix (last name unknown to me), that were ordained this same day. I have had the pleasure of knowing Adam from a distance. Felix I don't know at all. But, I felt hono