dead animals, brother and sisterhood, and why we only need a glimpse. It's Monday folks.

In between the fluffy cat killing the goldfish and leaving it dead on one daughter's bedroom floor, and the short haired cat killing a chipmunk and leaving it dead on my other daughter's bedroom floor, there were indeed a few life giving moments this weekend. And really, often, a few is all that we need; just a few reminders to help us to persevere in a world that is broken and in a home where you keep finding dead things on the floor.

My husband helped lead over twenty men this weekend on a retreat. Over twenty men who gave up their entire weekend--errands and chores and wives and children and kids sports and whatever else men cram into two days--a real motley crew of guys, they impressed me with their courage to step out of the high pressure world and into the resting arms of Jesus. I am not sure what a guy thinks a man of God looks like, but for any men who are unsure of this whole "spend time with God" thing, all they need to do is look to the Last Supper table; the everyday, normal guys who hung out with Jesus, who loved him dearly, who changed their lives, who nearly all ended up giving that very life up for love of Christ. Brotherhood, like Sisterhood, is seriously crucial, dare I say essential, if we are to live this earthly life well. If we are to live on this side of heaven right. I found their witness and bravery incredibly life giving. They had no table cloths at their reception, which as a woman, kind of bothered me....but men don't need tablecloths, I suppose.

And then there is Sisterhood; the wives of these men who showed up at the retreat's closing Mass to show encouragement and support. The many young children and babies that they brought with them, that they wrangled for two days on their own, so that their men could be filled. It is a huge sacrifice, you know, on the woman's part, to give up two extra hands, so that their husband can go off and find Christ. Nor is it always easy to be the wife of a man on fire for his faith, who runs to weekly meetings and spends much time in his Bible or in the planning, to ensure that these men have a good experience; to pray that God shows up in a big and unexpected way. To make those two days worth it. The women in the pews with their children on hips and on the floor and eating goldfish and sticking stickers on their heads and crying and smiling and pointing, "There is my daddy!" this, I found very life giving. Exhausting. But still. Life giving.

And then there is the sweet letter I received from a sister in Christ I have never met who although was reaching out to me for something, truly gave me something better in return. The reminder that we must never cease praying, we must always hold on to hope, and how very important it is for us to share our stories, speak of our sufferings, and stand strong together. Connection with each other is as essential as that first cup of coffee. Take it away, and we could quite possibly die. Or at the very least, have an enormous headache.

These are just small glimpses, I believe. Glimpses of heaven. And man, I needed them. Because at the time that goldfish hit the floor (God bless poor Swimmy's soul) my faith in God's promise was wavering big time. Not because I did not believe in His promise, but rather, because I DID and DO believe in His promise, which means...my greatest prayer? I might not see its fulfillment in my lifetime on earth. It will happen. But maybe not soon. Maybe not ever. Maybe not until I die. Maybe not in the way I imagine. And so these glimpses? I needed them. Like hearing my oldest son cheering on his little brother at his basketball game...like the man who sought me out to learn how he can lead his wife into a relationship with Christ...like the letter in my inbox that encouraged me to continue doing what I am doing....like the two ducks that landed in the pond out my front door...because truly, how much sorrow are we each carrying today? How much pain and fear and worry are we getting out of bed with this morning? How much uncertainty and anger and let down will we soak ourselves in? But then God gives us a glimpse...for two days or two minutes, it doesn't matter how long...because when you see His glory and you feel His peace, you actually see what heaven will be like. And this split second joy, if it can restore hope here on earth, then what will that joy be like in heaven?

I will accept a lifetime of sorrow for just one glimpse of heavenly joy. Of course I'd prefer a glimpse of sorrow and a lifetime of joy. But you know, at this point in Lent I am beginning to see that the only way I will ever be able to "accept all" that God throws my way, is if I willingly accept the Passion. Not His. But mine. Because if Jesus had Simon to help carry the cross, and Veronica to wipe the blood from his face, will he not do for us the same? Will he not send us a glimpse, a help, a tender touch, a sister or brother, a couple of ducks, to help us carry our cross, to encourages us on our journey?

Let's not focus on the dead fishes and the lifeless chipmunks we find on the floor. Let's instead, seek out the glimpse, the life giving moments, that if are only for a couple of seconds, are strangely enough, more than we need.