The Catholic Writers Guild

This week, as I committed to yet another spring cleaning with all the heavy maneuvering, dust-bunny attacks, spider-web encounters, and sticky messes, I awoke at dawn and wondered why my world can’t just stay straight and clean. As I stood with a mug of hot coffee in my hands and faced gray clouds, a gentle rain, and a soft breeze billowing in through the screen door, I considered the freshly turned fields, greening woods, and buds breaking through the surface to find the hidden sun. My soul glories in nature’s seasonal renewal. In beauty struggling to find its way, I discover my strength.

The maple tree branches outside my bedroom window sway like dancers dressed with dangling seed pods and pale green leaves. The pine trees rustle, and nesting birds chirp in a glorious cacophony. Baby chicks scurry about their pen, pecking away at anything that moves. Crawdads mound hills along the creek bed and frogs splash into the current when puppy and I draw near.

The kids are finishing finals and standardized testing, and meeting all the requirements to end the scholastic year as well as possible. I coordinate final grades, transcripts, and the next academic year’s plan. The garden is started but, with all the rain, hardly complete.

More burials at the cemetery mean I need to check records, find tombstones, keep names straight, and continue the stewardship role that has been handed on to me with all the devotion of an authentic community member.

World news troubles me with haunting specters of war, violence, hunger, and a future not of everlasting prosperity, but rather, of desperate grief. It seems that the clutter of human evil continues to mar the orderly beauty of our better nature.

I was asked this morning by a distant relative why I do not do something to make the situation better. His solution—blame and accusations—offer nothing. In fact, every grand world-fixing solution he suggested sounded more like a siren song of ages unending—Rings of Pride and Power: An attempt to recreate the world in an imperfect human image.

So where do I find solutions to the troubles of this world? How do I make anything better? Where are hope and happiness found?

Right in front of me, beside me, behind me, above and below me.

Living in the present moment, alive to the needs and concerns that I can attend to with sincere effort, teaches me to stretch beyond my preconceived notions, allowing me to respond to honest possibilities every moment of every day.

There are so many ways to live fully and generously: Give money to local and world charity organizations. Check in regularly with an elderly friend. Ask a son or daughter how they are doing and really listen without “fixing” but allow him or her to share issues and possible solutions. Offer honest insight to a friend with humility—knowing that each person must own their choices and the consequences of their actions.

Nurture a garden. Plant a tree. Hang a bird feeder and set out a birdhouse. Stroll along a patch of road, picking up litter, and recycle if possible. Volunteer to teach reading or math to a struggling student. Read a good book to a little kid. Assist at a church fundraiser. Help at a food pantry. Learn to draw—and thus to see and appreciate—the details of God’s created world. Adopt a stray kitten. Brush and cuddle a friendly dog.

Paint a house, a room, or a door, and fix the sagging porch steps. Stop by Grandpa’s place and help him clean his refrigerator. Drop off fresh fruits and vegetables at an aunt’s apartment. Help a neighbor with a clogged gutter. Offer a hand to a stranger carrying a heavy load to their car. Smile at the check-out lady. Tell the kid behind the counter to have a nice day and mean it.

Wherever anger lunges its spikes, forgive and move on. When mistakes are made, say sorry and make amends. Being sorry is not humiliating. It’s healing. True contrition builds up—it never tears down. It is one of the deepest acts of love.

A. K. Frailey

As a teacher with a degree in Elementary Education who has taught in big cities and small towns, Ann Frailey homeschooled all of her children. She manages her rural homestead with her kids and their numerous critters, authors books, and writes a Friday blog alternating between short stories and her My Road Goes Ever On series. Put Your Mind in a Better Place—Entertainment for Life