Happy Easter!

You are Rock!

As you can probably tell, I've been watching a lot of online videos recently. It has to do with giving up TV for Lent. Next year I'm going to have to give up the internet - but please don't quote me on that.

Recently I found this video on LovetoBeCatholic.com:



I think it's a great ad. "We are the Catholic Church!"

The Bridge.

I watched this about six months ago and it made me cry then. Just watched it with Wendy and we both teared up again. Make sure you have the tissues handy.

Saved by Love

The cheese is about to hit the fan...

Last night, Wendy and I went to try and meet up with her cousin who is performing at Calvary Baptist Church tonight. Unfortunately we missed her by a few minutes but are working hard at getting a lot of work done so that we can go and enjoy her performance tonight.

Well, we went to the movies and dinner - a date night! At dinner we were recounting the story of the hand (see yesterday's post). I told her about my attempt to put my wedding ring back on but it being too painful. We talked about how lucky I was that I basically had a tiny bit of swelling and a bruise-like pain, when I thought, I wonder if my wedding ring saved my hand?

I took my wedding ring off and placed it on the restaurant table. I studied it closely and what had been a perfect circle just a few weeks ago was now very slightly oval. Actually, a little more like almost imperceptibly flatter on two opposite sides. I think the ring took some of the "hit."

There were a number of things that had to go right in order for me to walk away with very little damage:
1- Bob's car has rubber liners on the door frame.
2- My ring probably took some of the impact and protected my fingers.
3- My body is unbreakable. *

Considering that the door was pulled closed, was completely closed, latched closed, there were some things that had to work out just right for me to just walk away with pain. Today, the pink is even gone though my fingers are still slightly swollen and it still hurts when I try to put my wedding ring on.

My hand was saved by my wedding ring. I was saved by love. [Insert crowd, "Aww" here]


* This claim is under review by the SuperHeroes Guild of America. Results will not be published.

Holy #*(&!

Father Stewart, the Pastor at St. Brendan's, often reminds us that when death looms near, people are often not in the mindset to make their peace with God. As he says, as the motorcycle is crashing into the pole, the driver rarely has the time to think of God. Instead, they're probably thinking, "Oh ....!"

It's his way of reminding us that every day is our time to make our peace with God. Cuz you never know.

Yesterday I had an "Oh ....!" moment. Granted, it came nowhere near to being a near-death experience. However, I found that in my time of pain and distress I did not think of God or ask for His help. Instead I simply felt pain and cursed out loud and ran and laughed and cried.

Just yesterday afternoon, I had pulled out my Magnificat, a prayer guide, and read in Psalm 18: In my distress I called upon the Lord and cried out to my God; From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.

About two hours later I was getting into my friend Bob's car, on our way up to an evening of dinner and games with friends. Bob sat in the driver's seat, my wife Wendy scooted into the back seat behind him. As I dropped my backback in the space next to Wendy, I used the open door frame of the front passenger side as support as I made my way in. Unfortunately for my hand, I didn't realize that Ciara, Bob's girlfriend, had already taken her seat in the front and was preparing to close her door. And then she did.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I stood straight up and and screamed.

From inside the car I heard yells of, "What? What's going on?"

"Holy #*(&!" I continued. Seeing as the pain seemed to intensify with every millisecond and my hand was still stuck, I tried, in vain, to use my right hand to pull open the door. Door stuck hard, my brain processed.

Inside the car, Wendy finally realized what was wrong when she saw my four fingers wiggling inside the car and the front passenger door completely closed. She somehow managed to tell Ciara to open her door and my beautiful, fragile hand was released. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than five seconds but in those seconds I experienced pain and desperation. When my hand was released, there was more pain.

I doubled over, my eyes tearing, as Wendy, Bob, and Ciara tried to assess how bad it was and what they had to do for me. I briefly looked at my hand and saw pink and holes. The pain felt worse and I took off running down the street, right hand cradling the left. I don't know if it was the tears in my eyes or the pain, but as I ran I realized the world was a blur. I couldn't see. Had it not been for that I might've run from Harlem to Times Square and back. Wendy called for me to stop and I did, still bouncing, crying, and now laughing from the pain. Ciara yelled at Bob to be a man and help me with my broken hand. He asked to see my hand but I could only hold still for a second, I still felt the need to keep my body moving.

After another minute or two of bouncing, I was calm enough to stop and really assess the hand trauma. Luckily what I saw as pink was just my skin reacting to being stuck in a door. The holes I saw were deep dents from where my hand had contorted to the door and frame edges. I tried moving my hand and managed a slight wiggle of fingers. When Ciara told Bob to get me to a hospital, I told them I thought I'd be OK, nothing broken. Though there was still lots of crying and laughing.

Ciara had the wisdom to tell me to take my wedding ring off so that my finger wouldn't swell around it. The fingers swelled slightly but thankfully nothing monstrous.

We made our way to our friend Bill's apartment who was waiting for us with two ice packs and Advil. I was in pain last night, but still enjoyed a great night of vegan dinner and Scattergories with friends. This morning the hand and fingers are lightly pink, still slightly swollen and the top of my hand is tender to the touch. Running water feels like millions of needles. But, I can move my hand.

I thank God now that I know how lucky I was. It's the smallest bit of a miracle that my hands aren't purple, broken, or bloody. It was a gift that I was still able to enjoy the great company of friends last night. In the laughter of friendship there is no pain.

I can see, as Father Stewart said, that when you're suffering your first thoughts aren't always about God. But, as Psalm 92 reminded me this morning: It is good to give thanks to the Lord.

I can't turn back time, and to be honest, I wouldn't want to, but looking forward there's a lot to be grateful for.

Extreme Room Makeover for Sick kids

From the Des Moines Register:

For six years, Nancy Berg of Waukee couldn't get the idea out of her head.

In 2002, she read about an Ohio-based nonprofit that redecorated bedrooms for sick kids. Since then, the mother of three kept revisiting the concept, believing a similar project was her purpose in life.

A tragic accident finally put her dream into action.

Berg initially contacted the Ohio group after reading about its work, but discovered starting a nonprofit is cumbersome. She needed a business plan and a foundation, and the Ohio nonprofit wanted a share of her proceeds.

Still, she held the idea.

"I'd bring it up every two or three months to somebody," said Berg, who works in public relations. She wanted to help, not only children with illnesses but also those who had been injured in an accident or who were dealing with disabilities.

"I just have a passion to do something better and do something for the community where I live, and I'm good at organizing and love decorating and painting," she said.

"Kids are my passion and going over the top for their bedrooms is my little pet project."

Finally, her friend, Amy Brown, decided to help. She said the words that kicked Berg into action: "Let's find a project."

Berg said she thought about a recent e-mail she'd received about a teacher who had been in a car accident. Berg realized she already knew the family who might benefit.

They decided to call their new organization Project Dream Space.

-

Before April 11, 2007, the Julseth family of Earlham had plans to move to a different house, a home where each of the children could have a bedroom.

A car accident changed that.

Jacy, then 6, was in the hospital for nearly a month afterward, healing in a full-body cast. Robin, his mom, a Waukee elementary school teacher, was in the hospital for more than a month.

"Jacy lacerated his intestines, groin, liver, and broke his back and had multiple fractures," Robin said. "I had multiple fractures to my hip. I was trapped under the dashboard. ... I broke my ankle and heel. ... They had trouble getting my foot out. And I have tons of nerve damage."

Suddenly, the family had new plans to follow: a long schedule of surgeries.

They had a pile of hospital bills and Robin was confined to a wheelchair. A new house was nowhere on the agenda. Instead, she and her son were literally stuck in their old house. He wasn't allowed to go outside and her injuries kept her in the chair.

"Just getting outside and enjoying the sunlight was not something we could do," she said.

-

Berg arranged to meet the Julseths in May.

"Amy and I walked through the door and Jacy said, 'Are you here to paint my room?' " Berg said.

Berg had hopes for an even bigger improvement. She had mentioned the project to a builder, D.J. Schad of Destination Homes. Their sons played on the same soccer team.

"I approached (Schad) and I said, 'I have three plans. Plan one is to build a bedroom.' And the builder said, 'Done,' " she said.

Berg's to-do list grew longer from there.

They repainted the house, resided the exterior, added landscaping, replaced the windows and turned the porch into an entryway and closet.

"Jacy loves science and space, so they gave him his own little laboratory with a sink and a fridge where he can do experiments," Robin said. Project Dream Space decorated the room with a picture of Einstein and his famous discovery, "E=mc."

His sister, Addison, received a room makeover, too. The team painted her room with a woodland princess scene.

While the accident disrupted life for months, Robin said the family has been blessed, not only with the makeover but also with support from friends and family who helped keep the household in order while Robin was recovering.

Living in the improved space has eased the stress of adjusting to the accident.

"It's wonderful," Robin said. "Because of the accident, it takes a couple of years to settle the insurance.

You have to wait until the surgeries are done until you get a settlement. So there would be no way we could move.... And (paying for) all my equipment, the wheelchair, ramps, bathroom shower chair.

"We were thinking, 'this is how it will be for two years, and it'll be tight.'"

Instead, their old home feels almost like a new one.

"It's wonderful," Robin said. "It was a load off our heads. It looks like a brand new house on the inside.

"We're at home now."

Which is more than Berg had hoped to achieve with her first project. She's now fundraising and seeking kids to help with Project Dream Space. She is also seeking people to form a board of directors for the organization and leadership team.

She hopes to eventually expand the organization to tackle projects throughout central Iowa.

"I want a stash of funds for the accidents and sudden situations that come up, so we're able to help a child immediately," she said. "I also want to have some funds on hand where we can help children that are new to a wheelchair or have a long-term illness."

Catholics exercise every Sunday

Whenever I've brought non-Catholics to Mass, I always hear the remark about all the standing, sitting, kneeling, and more standing. I try to explain the reasoning behind the different postures for prayer, but this report from ABCnews.com adds a new twist:

Scientists Say Just Standing Up May Be as Important as Exercise

Scientists have found intriguing evidence that one major reason so many people are overweight these days may be as close as the seat of their pants. Literally. According to the researchers, most of us sit too much.

In most cases, exercise alone, according to a team of scientists at the University of Missouri, isn't enough to take off those added pounds. The problem, they say, is that all the stuff we've heard the last few years about weight control left one key factor out of the equation. When we sit, the researchers found, the enzymes that are responsible for burning fat just shut down.

This goes way beyond the common sense assumption that people who sit too much are less active and thus less able to keep their weight under control. It turns out that sitting for hours at a time, as so many of us do in these days of ubiquitous computers and electronic games and 24-hour television, attacks the body in ways that have not been well understood.

The Need to Putter

"It was hard to believe at first," said Marc Hamilton, associate professor of biomedical sciences at the University of Missouri-Columbia and leader of the research team. He said the team didn't expect to find a strong signal when they began researching what happens to fat when we remain seated. But the effect, both in laboratory animals and humans, turned out to be huge.

The solution, Hamilton said, is to stand up and "putter."

The research was published this month in the peer-reviewed journal Diabetes, and it will be presented by Hamilton's post-doctoral researcher, Theodore Zderic, at the upcoming Second International Congress on Physical Activity and Public Health in Amsterdam.

Hamilton is not suggesting that anyone quit exercising. But he says his work shows that exercise alone won't get the job done. We have to pay more attention to what's happening when we aren't in the gym, because the body's ability to dispose of fat virtually shuts down, he says, at least if we're sitting down.

Hamilton recruited a few laboratory rats and pigs, as well as about a dozen human volunteers, including himself, to learn more about the physiological effect of sitting. The lab animals laid the foundation for the research in two different experiments. The animals were injected with a small amount of fat that contained a radioactive tracer so the researchers could determine what happened to the fat.

"What's the fate of that fat?" Hamilton asked during a telephone interview. "Is it burned up by the muscle?"

The radioactive tracer revealed that when the animals were sitting down, the fat did not remain in the blood vessels that pass through the muscles, where it could be burned. Instead, it was captured by the adipose tissue, a type of connective tissue where globules of fat are stored. That tissue is found around organs such as the kidneys, so it's not really where you want to see the fat end up.

The researchers also took a close look at a fat-splitting enzyme, called lipase, that is critical to the body's ability to break down fat.

After the animals remained seated for several hours, "the enzyme was suppressed down to 10 percent of normal," Hamilton said. "It's just virtually shut off."

The results from the animal studies were very convincing, he said, and human experiments were just as compelling. The researchers injected a small needle into the muscles of the human volunteers and extracted a small sample for biopsy. Once again, the enzyme was suppressed while the humans remained seated. That resulted in retention of fat, and it also resulted in lower HDL, the "good cholesterol," and an overall reduction in the metabolic rate.

You Need to Move Those Legs

The implications, Hamilton said, are clear. While much thought has been given to the good effects of regular exercise, scientists have not paid enough attention to what happens during the rest of the time when we may be fairly active but are probably sitting too much. That could help explain the rising tide of obesity, because people tend to sit more these days than they did a half century ago. Not to mention eating too much and getting precious little exercise.

Some might argue that playing video games, or even working at the computer, involves movement of the upper body, especially the hands and arms, so that's not really inactive. But Hamilton counters that arms don't weigh very much, and the big muscles in the human body which are so critical to burning fat are located in our legs and back.

"When we think about the postural muscles that are mostly in the legs and back, these are big, powerful muscles," he said. "We're talking probably 20 pounds of muscle in each leg. That's a lot of muscle that can be engaged in routine activities," including burning fat. But they can't do that without the enzyme that is suppressed while seated.

Much is still not known, including such fundamental issues as how long the effect lasts from getting up and moving around for a while, but Hamilton expects the answers to come fairly soon.

"There is going to be a flood of research on this in the next couple of years, and not just by us," he said. "This has raised the attention of a lot of great scientists around the world who have begun doing their own studies."

In the meantime, he suggests, we do the obvious. Take the time to get up and "putter" for a while. If his research turns out to be on the mark, it could save your life.

On February 18, 2008...

This Monday, February 18th, 2008 . . .

This Monday, February 18th, 2008 Wendy and I will embark on our journey to break a World Record. As the Muslims say, insha'allah. God-willing.

Tonight I read the story of Clarence and Mayme Vail who got married back during the Presidency of Calvin Coolidge and are still going strong. Mayme's advice on building a strong marriage? "You've got to have patience."

It's hard to imagine anyone looking back at our wedding year and saying in amazement, "You got married when George W. Bush was President?!?!?!" Though, I guess that can probably be said about a year from now too (perhaps with a different tone).

In any case, read about this very sweet story at The Catholic Spirit.

And, since this will probably be my last post as a bachelor, wish me luck. Say a prayer for us. I'll see you on the flipside . . . as a married man.

Rabbi Bachman says, "Get to church."

Bringing peace does not only involve donation of money to help end hunger and poverty. Nor does it only involve working on large-scale social issues. Sometimes it makes a world of difference to make a difference in just one soul.

I'm sure Rabbi Bachman has a lot of anecdotes from his life as a clergyman in New York City. This one is touching and I'm sure that Zeke will get around to visiting Church soon. Sometimes all it takes is a little reminder from a rabbi:

For the second time in a month, I couldn’t get the keys to work in our car. Apparently, some kind of computerized and magnetized process, encoded inside the keys to match a reading inside the ignition, was not working. It wasn’t in sync. The first time around, I had to pay the dealer around $95 to cut new keys and re-program the ignition, causing me more of a headache than anything else. Mainly it had to do with a security feature I wasn’t ever quite aware of until it broke down and made me realize I never would have requested it in the first place.

But the second time, I was even more annoyed. It had happened last week, just as I finished a visit with a family to plan a funeral. The day was bitter cold; the death, even worse. And I was sad and drained. To walk outside only to discover that the car didn’t work was somehow a fitting end to the day. Rather than take a cab, it seemed right to brace the unsympathetic winds and walk the distance, thinking of the weight of responsibility of the days ahead.

I had to borrow a car to head to the burial the next day, a minor inconvenience, and plotted all week long to get back to the car in order to arrange for it to be towed so I could get myself some new keys, yet again.

That moment finally came last night. Again, the cold was all around; rain clouds had begun to gather; and I was feeling generally annoyed. AAA arrived–keeping me posted with calls at five minute intervals (great customer service, I’ll add here) and then the driver pulled up. He was a young man, in a Yankees hat, and together he and I set to pushing my car out of the spot it was in so we could hook it up to the tow. “Stay low, brother, stay low,” he offered as we pushed car back and then out of its spot.

When we were finally read to roll, he said, “So you’re clergy–I noticed the sign in the window.”

“Yeah,” I said. “A rabbi.”

“A rabbi? Well alright. Doing the Lord’s work.”

And then the following fifteen minutes consisted of a streetside confession–less rabbi, more priest.

I learned about the Church he attends (when he’s not driving so much) the foods he eats (when he’s not thinking so much) and the women he chases (when he’s not praying so much). He seemed genuinely Lost in a Flood. And the wind was blowing, and the rain was getting ready to fall, and there was an urgency to his words–as if in saying them he was seeking a healing long overdue.

But he kept doubting his ability to overcome. He wouldn’t listen to my pleas for patience, for being kind to himself, for heading back to Church on Sunday no matter what. I held his hand as he reached out for me and said, “What’s your name?” (just as I remembered the famous Midrash about the Children of Israel being saved from Egypt because they remembered their Hebrew names.)

“Zeke,” he said.

“Like the Prophet Ezekiel, who dreamed of angels,” I replied. “Your name carries in its meaning the virtue of an angel. Did you know our rabbis teach us that God saved the Jewish people from Egypt because they remembered their Hebrew names?”

He stared back at me and I at him. But for the broken keys in one chariot, I never would have come face to face with Zeke in his Chariot, rigged up to tow cars on winter nights in Brooklyn.

I urged him to take Sunday off; get to church. “You have to rest, brother. It’s a commandment.”

“Saved just because of their names?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“It’s powerful to know that, rabbi,” said Zeke. “I’ll be in touch.”

With whom, I suppose, depends upon where he ends up Sunday morning.