My house is flooding

My former next door neighbors moved to a new home 1.6 miles away. Prior to their move, we had the pleasure of seeing Sara, Rob, Wilson and Rosemary “Rosie” almost every day on their way to school, church, park, on their bikes or just hearing them over the fence playing.  Yesterday they invited me over for a little playtime on their new trampoline, to share an al fresco dinner, paste flower decals on the bedroom wall, symbolic of friendship,  and to help them with their evening routine: putting on jammies, brushing teeth, washing face, tucking into bed and reading a story. Since I did not have my reading glasses, Rosie read to me. Wilson drew in his little journal and Sara, the mom, brought another book from Wilson’s room to read called, How Full Is Your Bucket, by Tom Rath and Mary Reckmeyer.  As it was getting late, and too late for another story, Rosie began to summarize the book, How Full Is Your Bucket and after her brief summary, she exclaimed, “my house is flooding!”  I knew and felt the same way, our love for each other, her brother Wilson, mom Sara and dad Rob, the fun jumping on the trampoline, thoughtful reading, joy of decorating her bedroom wall, and the shear peace and love present last evening, we knew, YES indeed, the house was flooding.  Wishing you a Full Bucket, so full that your house floods with love, fun, joy and peace.

The Road to Emmaus

Over the weekend we attended Doug and Salwa’s wedding in Lodi. Doug is our neighbor’s most lovely and kind son.  It was a beautiful event and a peaceful weekend.  On Sunday while Joe was checking out of our hotel in Stockton, I was standing outside, enjoying the warm weather and sun on my face. There was a man that was walking towards me, small in stature, smiling as he passed, roughly 60 years old. As he passed we exchanged smiles, his was contagious and I was already filled with a joyful glow of a lovely weekend. After he passed and rounded the corner it dawned on me that perhaps He was Jesus. I recall another time in 2001, after mass at St. Catherine’s, a mysterious man approached, also with a smile and he handed me a book:  He and I, by Gabrielle Bossis, translated and condensed by Evelyn M Brown.  I have not thought about that day since just now, and I went to my bookshelf and I had kept this book. So many of my books I pass along, however this one I kept.  I had written in the front of the book, the date I received it and the name of the man who gave it to me: Dominus. I only know his name, as I had never seen him and thought he must be new to our parish and so I asked him his name as I thanked him for the book.  I never saw him again. It was as random as I am describing, a man, walks up hands me a book, I ask his name, He tells me  and then I never see him again. My good friend Pierre told me Dominus translated from Latin means Master.  This brings me to my insight for this blog:  were those two occasions my own road to Emmaus, where I spend a brief moment with Jesus and not realize it until later? Have you had an Emmaus experience?  OK, you won’t believe the end of this blog, as I was leafing through the pages of the book He and I, before returning it to my bookshelf, a book mark fell out, with this quote from St. Augustine: “and he departed from our sight that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold, He is here.”