As I was driving across town tonight for a meeting, I heard the new prediction of the crest in Fargo - 2 to 3 feet higher then initially predicted.  I felt sick and pale.  This wasn’t good news. 

Only later in the evening did it hit home.  We believe that my sister has been placed under voluntary evacuation, unable to confirm, and can’t get a hold of her.  It is funny how you go from an innocent bystander in a disanster 250 miles away to an active participant.  My brother’s church and old neighborhood - once thought safe - are now in the path of the Red River.  Friends, family, relatives - all now seem in harms way.

I cannot sit idly by.  It may be foolhearty, it may be a waste of time, but something inside me says that I need to join what may be a futile fight against mother nature.

Driving to Fargo.  Please keep all those in harms way in your thoughts and prayers.

 ”Mom, we just don’t know how long it could be.  The doctor said six months or six years!  Wouldn’t it be great if you could walk again?  To go on to therapy to see if could do some of things that you used to do?” I pushed.

Mom teared up, “I would, I really would…but I don’t know how much longer my body can hold out.”

It was a bright sunshiny day towards the end of February, 1995.  Snow was melting, the hope of spring was around the corner.  A series of small strokes had caused some of the progress Mom had made over the last couple of months to backslide.  Dad was gone, and I was sitting with her at home.  She was unable to do much for herself, so Dad had converted the living room into a make shift hospital room - as he said, for better or for worse, he had swore to love and cherish her,  this was just the worst part.

The cancer was still there, and it was growing, but we had hope.  Mom had been born into a loving family, but had their life shattered at the age of eleven when her mother died from a fast acting case of leukemia.

Her mother was defiant until the end - one of her last requests was to make sure that her youngest daughter’s birthday party would go on as planned for that very afternoon.

Mom had a tough row to hoe throughout her life, but she was a fighter.  But she needed to be, especially when the brain tumor ruptured in April of 1993.  The battle that Mom’s mother, aunts, and other family members had faced was now her own - Mom’s own battle with cancer was starting.

Every day, 1,500 Americans die from cancer.  One in four deaths each year happen as a result of cancer or cancer related illnesses.  It is the second leading cause of death after heart disease.  Over 35% of those diagnosed with all types of cancer today, will die from it.  Every American will feel the sting of cancer at some point in their life - either personally or from a family member or friend.

Yet every decade, every year, every month, every day the hope is building.  The survival rate in 1948 when my grandmother was diagnosed was well under 50%.  New studies, new information, new drugs, new treatments are being tested around the globe.

My mother was defiant until the end as well.  She was a test patient in several studies - because even if it cut her down, perhaps she could save one of her children.  She and her doctor had a dream that Hospice would expand into Mahnomen County so that more people could spend their precious time in the comfort of their homes with family and friends. 

A little less then a month after I tried to convince her to push ahead with additional rehabilitation, her body started failing.  On Monday, March 22, 1993 she became the very first patient under Hospice care in Mahnomen County.

The next morning, with a Hospice nurse, my father, and two priests at her side, she slipped the bonds of this world and went home to her Lord, her mother and other waiting loved ones where the cruel grip of cancer could no longer hold reign.

Like so many, the cancer had killed her body, but it could never kill her faith, it could never kill her hope, it could never kill her spirit.  She would go on to be one of the millions of the undefeated.

But the mantle now falls on us to fight the good fight, to learn and grow from her example, to live life to the fullest, to never waiver in faith, and to do all we can to prevent the horrors of cancer from continuing - and to live boldly, happily, and defiantly with faith, hope, and spirit!

 It is hard to have faith.  As humans, we are weak and we believe what we see.  It is a survival instinct.  How many of our ancestors wondered off into unknown wilds never to be heard from again.  How many maps had vast lands labeled, “there be dragons here.”  The things that are unseen, unheard, and unsmelled, untasted, untouched are fairy tales and fantasies.  If our senses can’t perceive it, how can it be real?

Yet, things don’t always go as planned.

Samuel knew that Jesse’s oldest son was going to be the anointed king…but God told him, “Not as man sees does God see.”  Only His mind, His vision has the depth to see what is to come.

When the man that had been blind from birth regained his sight by the power of the Lord, no one believed him.  Yet for that man, literally, seeing was believing.  Even his parents shied away from the Pharisees, fearful of their power.  But the man once blind, has seen an even more powerful force at work - the power of God, so he did not cower from the Pharisees, but instead, boldly stated his case.

It is hard to believe, but like that man, once we have that faith, once we convert out hearts and minds to the things perceived, but not physically sensed, the strength of Him who rules resides within us.

As Paul told the Ephesians, “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of the Light, for light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.”

The tough part is the seeing.  Which path to take, what choice to make - and perceiving those things we cannot sense.  Looking for the path that is marked only for us to see, with prayer, and contemplation.

Perhaps harder still is even when we see that path, having the strength and courage to move forward even in the face of ridicule and rejection from those we love or whom are in power.  Facing the loss in those things seen for the hope of the things unseen.

But once we see the path and are given the strength and courage to follow the will of God, it is then that we truly have the power and passion of our Lord.  It is truly then that we become alive.  As Paul says, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”

We cannot perceive how things will work out, we cannot know the end of the path.  Who could have guessed that a man blind from birth would be held up as an example for all to believe without seeing.  Who could have guessed that a shepherd named David, would lead God’s chosen people.  Who could have guessed that our Lord would chose to come in a manger and raised in humble conditions - one to die on the cross for our sins.

Not as man sees, does God see - but only we can chose to follow the path where he beckons.

 Big things happen on mountains.  They are awe inspiring.  They filled with grandeur and splendor.  In mythology, they are the homes of the gods - think of Mount Olympus.  In our songs and folklore, they are referred to with wonder, with amazement - as things of great beauty.  Who can forget the “purple mountain majesty” in America the Beautiful?

But for all of their beauty, they are also formidable, dangerous, and often times and stumbling blocks to progress and advancement.

The Appalachian Mountains were the first borders of English settlement in North America.  The Rocky Mountains were the major challenge for the Lewis and Clark expedition.  The Pyrenees’ Mountains separated Spain from the rest of Europe.  Switzerland was protected due to the Alps.  Think of the people that died crossing the mountains.

They are beautiful, awe inspiring, but dark and dangerous places.  The perfect stumbling block.  The perfect place to test ourselves.  The perfect place for God to test us.

Abraham took his major test on the mountain.  Asked to kill his only son, conceived and bore late in old age, the very love of he and Sarah’s heart, Abraham didn’t flinch.  God demanded.  God will receive.  So up the mountain Abraham went with his beloved Isaac.  As he is preparing to kill him, God intercedes.  Abraham’s love, his loyalty, his faith is proven on that mountain.  That mountain, which he believed would be filled with so much pain and despair, instead is where God promises him that he will make of him a great nation. 

The apostles, Peter, James, and John, too went to the mountain, this time in the presence of the Lord God - in human form, as the Son, Jesus.  Expecting no challenge.  Expecting nothing more but to walk and pray, they are confronted with the majesty of heaven in the form of a transfigured Jesus conversing with Moses and Elijah.  They too are tested - and this test they fail.  They fail to see Jesus for who he really is.  Their faith, though rich on this day, will not see them through on that terrible day when Jesus climbs another mountain, Golgotha - the hill of Calvary. They don’t take the lesson of the mountain to heart, and they lose their faith.

Our faith too is tested in mountains, though often times, they are only mountains of the mind.

How often do we let our fears and discouragement get in the way?  How often do we see an obstacle, a path, a choice in life as too overwhelming?  As too difficult?  How often do we say that our lives are stuck and there is no getting out?  How often do we see the path God has laid before us, and we say, “No Lord, it is too hard, I can’t do it.”

We need to have faith like Abraham - the road is hard.  The mountains are steep.  The way is strewn with rocks and debris.  But we do not walk it alone.  The risen Christ is there with us, and like Abraham before us, while the path, the challenge, the life, may be unthinkable - the rewards of heaven, the rewards of a clearer view, and the rewards of a richer life are there - and with the strength of the Lord, the same Lord who died on a mountain for us, we shall have the strength to make it to the peak.

 ”I’m planning a camping trip this spring, but I’m not sure where I’m gonna go,” my friend Jack said.

Normally, I’m a sane, rational person, planning things out, and making sure details are in order.  I’m not sure what possessed me, but at that moment in December, I think I was looking for a little adventure, so I said, “Count me in.  Regardless where it is, I’m game.”

A couple weeks later, the phone rang, “Death Valley,” Jack said.

“Death Valley?” I replied.

“Death Valley.” Jack said.

Uh-oh.

I had never seen a desert up to that point in my life, now, I was expected to sleep under the stars in the middle of it. 

Uh-oh.

My friend Father Ross was excited for me.  “What a great desert experience,” he said.  “Think about all of the holy men and women that spent time in the desert looking for understanding.  Think of Jesus and his own forty days in the desert.  Think of the Hebrews and their forty years of wondering.”

At one, my thoughts turned to the staring Hebrews begging the Lord for deliverance and our Lord being tempted to turn stones into bread.  Yup, sounds delightful.

In the end, it was.  It remains one of my favorite and most memorable vacations.  Sitting in the solitude of the desert, with nothing with the stares overhead and the stillness of the world around you, it was humbling.

When we think of the desert experience of the holy men and women of ages past, of the Hebrews, or even of our Lord, part of it was the desert - the unwelcoming environment, scorching hot during the day, cold at night.  No water.  Little food.  Devoid of life

But in the end, we all reach our own spiritual deserts.  We all face our time of isolation, our time of trial, our time when we are tested, spiritually or morally, a time when we must stand alone with nothing but the strength of God at our side.  It may not be a barren wasteland in the middle of nowhere, but it may be a barren wasteland in the middle of our lives when we are forced to make a decision.  A time when our very life seems barren and empty.

It is these times when we must turn to our Father.  It was He that said he would give us a to a eat a bread that would never let us hunger, and a water that would create a fountain welling up within us.

Death Valley was a beautiful place - filled with wonders, filled with heat and cold, dryness, and steams, and snow.  In the end, much like our times in the spiritual desert, often have to only open our eyes and trust in our faith to come out stronger and better people.

My nieces were inconsolable.  They were angry.  Abby especially was on the ground, tears flowing.  Furious about the injustice of it all.

They had been promised a long weekend in Minneapolis.  They were going to come down and spend a night with Uncle Mark, then spend the next couple of days at a hotel with a pool and get the chance to spend a day at the Mall of America.

They found out at five o’clock in the morning in Uncle Mark’s living room that this was not too be.  There was never a plan to go to the Mall of America.  There were no hotel reservations made.  They would not be spending their planned weekend in Minneapolis.

And they were furious.

On the surface, it seems that their anger was justified.  These poor children were lead on.  These poor children had expectations!  How could their parents do this to them!  It was cruel.  It was unjust.  It was completely pitiless.

Until you find out the rest of the story.

The reason that they found out at five in the morning is that because they were really hoping on a plane to go the airport to fly to Florida and spend a long weekend at Disneyland.  No Mall of America, but something so much better, it was unfathomable!

And they were mad about it!

Hope often in our lives do we see these daily injustices take place and we wonder where is God?  Why isn’t he helping us?  Sometimes, like my nieces, we fail to take in the whole picture.

When I think about the story in the Gospel of Mark, when the men lower their crippled friend through the roof of the house so that he might meet Jesus and ask that he be cured, I can picture Jesus laughing a little to himself.

Here are a people so certain that Jesus can heal their friend, so certain that Jesus has these miraculous powers, that they are willing to literally rip the tiles of a roof and lower their friend inside.  They have so much faith, so much belief in this, that they go to extreme measures to help their friend.

What is Jesus’ response?

He gives them something even greater, yet so utterly unexpected that they don’t know how to respond.  Jesus response is, “your sins are forgiven.”  The people are so amazed and so taken aback by this, which they start to question, “How dare he forgive sins?  Only God can do that!”

I think Jesus was amused.

These people that had seen him raise the dead, heal the sick, and speak as no one had spoken before still failed to see and hear what he had been trying to tell them all along!  They failed to see the amazing gift that he had given this man, more important then even letting him walk.

Sometimes, like my nieces, we fail to see that bigger picture.  We may not get what we want.  We may not have our lives go as planned, but in the end, we are guided, we are lead, and we given the gifts of the spirit…if we but have the faith to see.

Some days, it is hard to focus on the task at hand.  Often times, it seems like the same old problems, just a different day.  Part of life, and part of growing up, is learning as you go - building up knowledge, building up experience, building up a life.  Too often, we expect to walk in and be a manager or a leader.  Those titles, and those skills, come with time and toil.Job seems to share those thoughts when he asks, “Is not man’s life a on earth a drudgery?  Are not his days those of hirelings?”  Like many of us, he struggles with his life’s work, “When I lie down I say, `When shall I arise?’ But the night is long, and I am full of tossing till the dawn.” And like many of us, he knows that his days on earth are short, “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and come to their end without hope.”

It seems like we as humans are always questioning.  “What is my purpose?  Is this all there is?  Will I ever know happiness again?”

Life can be filled with drudgery.

It is interesting reading the Gospel of Mark.  While his life probably seems much more fulfilling then ones that we lead, I’m sure the thought of wandering from town to town, preaching in the synagogues, healing the sick and driving out demons did get to feel fairly tiring.  Every day a new town.  Every day a new place to lay His head.  Not knowing when you would meet your critics, not knowing where or what you would eat, not knowing if and when the Father would call Him home.

He shared in our humanity, and though he trusted His Father completely, as he showed at Calvary, there too had to be some human emotion.  Fear, apprehension, a desire to live a “normal” life - these are only a few of the emotions that our Lord had to be feeling.

If there is anything that Jesus taught us, and it comes out in the Gospel of Mark, it is that His life was a long journey.  It too was filled with the pains and joys of childhood.  It too was filled with doubt and questioning (remember the agony in the garden?), it too was filled with a fair amount of drudgery.

But it is in this drudgery, this constant state of being, growing, and living, constantly striving to be better men and women that we too come to our state of holiness.  How often in our lives do we look back and say, “I can’t believe how much things have changed.  How much I’ve changed.  How much our lives have accomplished with slow and steady work.”

Some change, some revelations, come at us suddenly.  But most of them happen gradually over time.

We must take a lesson from the Lord today - as he moved forward with his work, he took a little time for Himself in the desert, to think and pray.  As we go through our daily toil, working slowly, steadily, hope filled and eyes on the future, we too should follow His example of a little prayer and a little reflection.

For those interested, you will now find a link to subscribe on the colume listed under “pages.”  Recieve an email notification everytime there is an update to this website (or anyone of the categories you enjoy the most!).

What do you get someone for Christmas that is dying?  What do you get a family whose heart is slowing breaking?  How do you help to make Christmas merry in the face of the sharp reality of life?When they told us that October in 1994 that the cancer was growing again, they told us it could be one month to six years before Mom would succumb to her cancer, but I think, at heart, we all knew, including her, it would be sooner.  We all knew this was probably going to be her last Christmas with us here on earth.

As a freshmen in college, going back and forth every weekend and sometimes during the week, you could see those little moments when the life would be back in her eyes, when the old life and the old spirit, the warrior that had battled hard situations throughout her life, the kindness of a women that loved her husband, her children, her neighbors, and all of God’s creatures deeply. 

But you could also see the moments when she forgot her children’s names, when she thought she was back in time to the days of her youth - those moments were growing too…

What do you get for woman who had been there to scrape the rocks out of your knees and bandage life’s hurts with a hug and kiss to the forehead?  What do you get for the woman that would listen patiently to your ills and console you, but would also tell you to suck it up, and get on with life, because hard times were part of it and life moved on - what do you get for that woman?

What do you get for the family that sometimes fought like cats and dogs, but always closed ranks when some outside presence threatened?  What do you get for the family that when faced with the death of one of its leaders way to early, still found the courage to laugh and joke?  Still found the faith to go to church?  What do you get for the man, Dad, that found the strength when he was told to put his wife of twenty-five years and ten years his junior in a nursing home, had told the doctor to go to hell - who told his family that he promised to love and care for this women for better or worse, and this just happened to be the worse part - what do you get for that man, for that family?

Everything seemed insignificant.

I was at the moment of despair while driving home for Christmas break.  There was nothing that could help, there would be nothing that would lock in this time, this last precious holiday.  I couldn’t bear to go home…I drove past the driveway and into town…away.  Away from the pain, away from the unfairness of it all - away from the cancer and the work, and the pain of seeing a loved one slowly slipping away…

I drove down main street, past the lights and the tinsel, past the shoppers, waving at the neighbors as they walked down the sidewalks or drove down the street.  I drove out on the highway, past the service stations and the John Deere dealership.  I turned on the main road back into town…and there was Starkey Photography.  Could this be it?

Walking in, I asked Bruce if he would be willing to take a family picture for us on Christmas Eve Day.  He was willing. I paid the deposit and went home.

It had been over fifteen years since our last full, professional family photograph.  My last minute planning made it so that some of my brothers didn’t get notice to bring home their suits, so we were a bit of a motley crew that walked into the studio that day - the warmest Christmas Eve that any of us could remember, with no snow and temperatures almost hitting forty.

But what a memory and what a photograph.  It some ways, it isn’t Mom.  You can tell that the cancer had taken its toll.  You knew that a part of her was already gone.  But you also knew that the warrior spirit, the kindness and the love was still in there too.

Mom passed on a little less then three months later, March 23, 1995, right before Easter.  But it is that Christmas and that picture that I remember most when I think about her and her cancer.  It serves as a reminder - a joyful, but bittersweet reminder - that the wonders of the first Christmas ended only thirty years later with the horrors of the cross. 

But I also remember that the cross was not the end of the story.  His birth and His death served as a sacrifice for all, so that we might have faith that the warrior spirit, that kind, loving spirit of Mom will be seen again when we too are called home to His love.  For the wonders of Christmas didn’t end at the cross - they lead to the glorious Resurrection of Easter morning and the hope of a world, of a people saved by Love, come to earth on Christmas day.

A vacant moonscape, littered with ancient gravestones and bleached bones.  Our earth, billions of years from now, burned by an expanding sun or cooled by years of our planets core slowly emitting heat to a point were we froze from the inside out - either way, the vision in my head was stark.  A lifeless, Godless place.What if there is no God?  What if I am sitting in this pew, in this church, getting this sacrament of reconciliation for nothing?  What if it is all a waste?

Those were the thoughts that went with the vision.

I am an imperfect man - sinful as God judges, sinful as His laws declare, but what if there is no God?  Does that then make me, not imperfect, but something more?  If there is no judge to judge my imperfections, do I then become perfect in the eyes of the world?  Is it about money, and power, and satisfaction?

What if my life, my struggles, and my work to date have all been for nothing?

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is not easy.  It requires confessing, and actually thinking about our sinful ways.  As a Catholic, it is the hardest thing that I do as a part of my faith, thinking about and reflecting on my failings, as a man and as a child of God.  More then once, I’ve faltered at the door, I’ve debated its merits, I’ve doubted its usefulness.  Mainly because it is so painful to endure.

Part of me wanted to walk out right then.  As a Catholic, we are taught to believe that the Sacrament of Reconciliation is a necessary part of our spiritual life, but if there is no God, then it is an empty gesture.

It was then that the priest began to speak about the Gospel of Mark.  About how the Gospel of Mark is littered with demons and evil spirits - the demons are actually the only ones in the Gospel to recognize Christ for who he really is.  It took his followers much, much longer to see Him for what He was.

But through it all, Jesus set people free from those demons, from their sinfulness.

Evil and sin work its way into our everyday lives subtly, through doubt, through daily little sins, through sins of omission.

As I made my way to the priest and confessed my sins, what he said to me was remarkable.

“God forgives you sins, put more importantly, as imperfect as you are, he is born in you today, you are washed clean, and today, you start anew, as a man, and as child of God.”

The doubt, the fear, was gone.  It was replaced by the greatest gifts that God has given to His people, Faith, Hope, and Love.  Always after this Sacrament, I feel the same way, always, the pain and suffering that goes into preparation is rewarded with these gifts.

Afterwards, I met with a very good friend of mine, a friend that gives wise advice and counsel, and he too provided the gift of hope to me with his wisdom.  No gift was as needed, nor as well received.

As we close out Advent, may we remember, above the boxes, and ribbons, and bows, Faith, Hope, and Love, remain the greatest gifts of all that we get from our Lord, and give to each other.