I was surprised to find the five-hour drive to Wichita relaxing and energizing. Despite the forecast, I ran into little rain; it came in one-minute spurts every now and then, with the sole effect of keeping the outside of the car clean. Flint hills were the scenery the last 90 miles from Emporia. No malls, concrete, houses, Starbucks or other signs of urban life, simply gentle hills of pebbles yet to spark with the greening effect of spring. God’s presence filled me with peace.
Our meeting was held last Friday at the Spiritual Life Center in Wichita, where we could retreat from radio and television, celebrate Mass, and stay focused on our common purpose. Stewardship directors representing 15 dioceses from the four MINK states, we gather two to three times per year to help one another in our work to empower Catholics to live discipleship as Christian stewards. Working together for seven years now, we are a close-knit group. I am always left humbled by the spirituality, knowledge and genuine caring so freely offered by my peers. We know we are blessed.
Bishop Jackals opened Saturday’s diocesan stewardship conference that followed the previous day’s regional meeting. In a clear and organized manner, he spoke to the 240 of us gathered in the sanctuary about our roles in serving the mission of the church. Lay ministers are called to collaborate between the apostolate and ministry, he explained. The lay apostolate “illuminates and orders temporal affairs according to the plan of God, bringing the light of Christ into all places.” The lay ministry is “ordered to the needs of the church to build it up from within and work under the leadership of the pastor.” Serving as apostles, we take Christ into the community and as ministers we strengthen the church.
The five-hour ride home gave me time to think about his words. Stewardship’s premise is that everything we are and have – even our lives - is gift from God. Our talents and how we return them to God are expressed in our choice of vocations. They who answer God’s call to the priesthood serve through distinct roles, to sanctify, tend and govern. Why, I thought, do we cry out for bits and pieces of priestly roles to be given to us when we have chosen to serve God as laity? It occurred to me that in so doing we denigrate the holiness inherent in all roles.
This small moment of grace affords me the realization that I am blessed to serve God in whatever manner He chooses to call me.
On our evening walk yesterday, David and I picked one of every wildflower we saw blooming: Dutch man’s britches, sumac, violet, Jack in the pulpit, an array of white yellow, purple, and deep burgundy. I presented them to Laura and asked her to take a picture of them to transfer to my computer’s screen saver. The season fades too quickly and I find myself wanting the visual proof to remind me of the beauty of new life and the promise of its rising again and again.
The asparagus is not ready to pick. It’s peeking out of the dirt enough to tease us, but we know with warmer weather coming, we’ll soon be bent over the rows every evening snapping the tender spears. There won’t be time for leisurely walks. What were we thinking by planting four more acres last spring? Certainly not about our backs. Yet the physical motion of walking down to the patches to pick, filling the bags, spreading our yield onto the maple island, weighing it and bundling it, offer me a contentment that is hard to describe. Much like the flint hills and the wildflowers, farming offers me a mental quiet that allows me to hear God and roots me in gratitude for the goodness of His land.
I was surprised to find the five-hour drive to Wichita relaxing and energizing. Despite the forecast, I ran into little rain; it came in one-minute spurts every now and then, with the sole effect of keeping the outside of the car clean. Flint hills were the scenery the last 90 miles from Emporia. No malls, concrete, houses, Starbucks or other signs of urban life, simply gentle hills of pebbles yet to spark with the greening effect of spring. God’s presence filled me with peace.