Spring is here somewhere . . . isn't it? Was hard to tell today though. It was one of those raw, bone-chillin' days as we g  athered on the Sidewalk this afternoon. In spite of the weather - or maybe because of it - Our House continues to be a positive, happening place, a place where we work to practice God's radical hospitality, welcoming the stranger and finding ways in which we can serve one another on life's journey. Last evening [Saturday], our friends Kyle and Frank (at right) walked in the door and introduced themselves : "I'm Frank . . . and I'm Stein." Everyone groaned which made Frank and Kyle . . . er . . . Stein laugh even harder, reminding us that joy is to be found everywhere. Speaking of joy - it would be a joy to us if you'd take a cruise through this issue, visiting our note about our Beatitudinal journey, smiling back at the kids from Chicago's Marist High School and tuning into a song about God's grace. |
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All the way from Chicago . . . to paint
 Several student's from Chicago's Marist High School joined us recently to help spruce up Our House. With the help of Jason, Jimmy, and Matt, the kids cleaned and primed and painted the drop-in center's main room. A survey of guests made blue the color choice.
This is the second year that students from the school pitched in to help. They opted out of more typical Spring Break options to travel east by train, stay at the Marist Brothers facility in West Park, and spend the week engaged in community service projects . . . and fun.
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When grace happens
If you click on the video, you'll hear Brett Boyd sing a tune Will Pierce penned while he was serving time on a parole violation. Will had a stroke 18 months ago while he was locked up in the county jail waiting to be sent back to prison. The stroke - and his time in prison - changed his life. This song is about the in-breaking of grace when "trials and tribulations
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Brett When All Is Said and Done
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had my life on hold."
You and I might not have had a stroke or spent time behind bars, but we've had our share of grief and hard times. Maybe we've been held prisoner by habits and addictions or fears, prejudices and judgments about ourselves and others. Or, maybe we've been relegated to some ash heap because we've done someone a wrong or failed miserably in a relationship or were just not good enough.
It is through that lens that I read next Sunday's gospel reading - John 11:1-45 - and immediately identified with Lazarus. I saw myself as I once was (and, on some levels, continue to be), a man bound by the grave clothes of impatience, intolerance, and bad choices and buried by the judgements of others in a tomb shut fast by the heavy stones of regret and despair.
John's story reminds me that God is right here, right next to me, calling me out of my tomb into the light of God's love, to shake off my burial clothes and be dressed in the best robe and dine on the fatted calf of joy. . .
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