God in all things

Once four Brahmans went all over India and amassed every kind of knowledge. They wanted to show each other what each could do with his various skill and secret arts.

So they met in a forest, and one of them found a bone. It happened to be a tiger’s thighbone. The Brahman who found it said, “I can create the whole skeleton of this animal,” and he did so.

The second Brahman said, “I can give it skin, flesh, and blood,” and so he did. There in front of them stood a lifelike tiger, stripes and all.

The third Brahman said, “You know what I can do? I know how to give it life.”

The fourth Brahman, who was not half as learned as the others, said, “Wait, don’t give it life. We believe you.”

But the third Brahman said, “What’s the use of having the power to do something and not doing it? I’ve never been able to exercise this art of mine. I’m going to give life to this thing. Just watch.”

The fourth Brahman said, “If you insist. But please wait till I climb this tree.” And he quickly scampered up the nearest tree.

Then the third Brahman, with his mantras and magic skills, breathed life into the tiger. As soon as it came to life, it was hungry and looked around for something to eat. And it pounced on the three Brahmans, who stood there huddled in terror, unable even to run away. It killed them all and devoured them at leisure, leaving only their bones on the forest floor.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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A parable is told of a community of ducks waddling off to duck church one Sunday to hear their duck preacher. After they waddled into the duck sanctuary, the service began and the duck preacher spoke eloquently of how God had given the ducks wings with which to fly.  

He pounded the pulpit with his beak and said, “With these wings, there is nowhere we ducks can not go!  ”There is no God-given task we ducks cannot accomplish!  

”With these wings we no longer need walk through life. We can soar high in the sky!” Shouts of “Amen!¨ were quacked throughout the duck congregation.  

The duck preacher concluded his message by exclaiming, “With our wings we can fly through life! WE CAN FLY!!!!¨   More ducks quacked out loud “AMEN!” in response.  Every duck loved the service.  

In fact all the ducks that were present commented on what a wonderfully convicting message they had heard from their duck preacher….and then they left the church and waddled all the way home. Unchanged, never even attemting to fly.

Too often we waddle away from worship the same way we waddled in….unchanged.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag’s side door!

He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver   then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, ‘What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That’s a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?’ The young boy was apologetic. ‘Please, mister…please, I’m sorry but I didn’t know what else to do,’ He pleaded. ‘I threw the brick because no one else would stop…’ With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. ‘It’s my brother, ‘he said ‘He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.’

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, ‘Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.’

Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay. ‘Thank you and May God bless you,’ the grateful child told the stranger. Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy! Push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.

 It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: ‘Don’t go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!’  God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don’t have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It’s our choice to listen or not.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.

So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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Donna’s fourth-grade classroom looked like many others I had seen in the past. Students sat in five rows of six desks. The teacher’s desk was in the front and faced the students. The bulletin board featured student work. In most respects it appeared to be a typically traditional elementary classroom. Yet, something seemed different that day I entered it for the first time. There seemed to be an undercurrent of excitement.

Donna was a veteran small-town Michigan schoolteacher only two years away from retirement. In addition, she was a volunteer participant in a countywide development project I had organized and facilitated. The training focused on language arts ideas that would empower students to feel good about them and take charge of their lives. Donna’s job was to attend training sessions and implement the concepts presented. My job was to make classroom visitations and encourage implementation.

I took an empty seat in the back and watched. All the students were working on a task, filling a sheet of notebook paper with thoughts and ideas. The ten-year-old student closest to me was filling her page with “I Can’ts.” “I can’t kick the soccer ball pass second base.” “I can’t do long division with more than three numbers.” “I can’t get Debbie to like me.” Her page was half full and she showed no signs of letting up. She worked on with determination and persistence.

I walked down the row glancing at students’ papers. Everyone was writing sentences, describing things they couldn’t do. “I can’t do ten pushups.” “I can’t hit over the left-field fence.” “I can’t eat only one cookie.”

By this time, the activity engaged my curiosity, so I decided to check with the teacher to see what was going on. As I approached her, I noticed that she too was busy writing. I felt it best not to interrupt. “I can’t get John’s mother to come in for a teacher conference.” “I can’t get my daughter to put gas in the car.” “I can’t get Alan to use words instead of fists.”

Thwarted in my efforts to determine why students and teacher were dwelling on the negative instead of the positive “I Can’t” statements, I returned to my seat and continued my observations. Students wrote for ten minutes. Most filled their page. Some started another.

“Finish the one you’re on and don’t start a new one,” were the instructions Donna used to signal the end of the activity. Students were then instructed to fold their papers in half and bring them to the front. When students reached the desk, they placed their “I Can’t” statements into an empty shoe box.

When all of the student papers were collected, Donna added hers. She put the lid on the box, tucked it under her arm and headed out the door and down the hall. Students followed the teacher. I followed the students. Halfway down the hall the procession stopped. Donna entered the custodian’s room, rummaged around and came out with a shovel. Shovel in one hand, shoebox in the other, Donna marched the students out of the school to the farthest corner of the playground. There they began to dig.  They were going to bury their “I Cant’s!” The digging took over ten minutes because most of the fourth graders wanted a turn. When the hole approached three-foot deep, the digging ended. The box of “I Cant’s” was placed at the bottom of the hole and quickly covered with dirt.

Thirty-one 10- and 11- years -olds stood around the freshly dug gravesite. Each had at least one page full of “I Cant’s” in the shoebox, three-feet under. So did their teacher.  At this point Donna announced, “Boys and girls, please join hands and bow your heads.” The students complied. They quickly formed a circle around the grave, creating a bond with their hands. They lowered their heads and waited. Donna delivered the eulogy.

“Friends, we gather today to honor the memory of “I Can’t.” While he was with us on earth, he touched the lives of everyone, some more than others. His names, unfortunately, has been spoken in every public building - schools, city halls, and state capitols and yes, even The White House. We have provided “I Can’t” with a final resting place and headstone that contains his epitaph. He is survived by his brothers and sisters, “I can, ‘I will’ and “I’m going to Right Away.’ They are not as well known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and powerful yet. Perhaps someday, with your help, they will make and even bigger mark on the world. May ‘I Can’t’ rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence. Amen.”

As I listened to the eulogy I realized that these students would never forget this day. The activity was symbolic, a metaphor for life. It was a right-brain experience that would stick in the unconscious and conscious mind forever.  Writing “I Cant’s,” burying them and hearing the eulogy. That was a major effort on the part of this teacher. And she wasn’t done yet. At the conclusion of the eulogy she turned the students around, marched them back into the classroom and held a wake.

They celebrated the passing of “I Can’t” with cookies, popcorn and fruit juices. Donna cut out a tombstone from butcher paper. She wrote the words “I Can’t” at the top and put RIP in the middle the date was added at the bottom, “3/28/80.” The paper tombstone hung in Donna’s classroom for the remainder of the year. On those rare occasions when a student forgot and said, “I Can’t,” Donna simply pointed to the RIP sign. The student then remembered that “I Can’t” was dead and chose to rephrase the statement.

I wasn’t one of Donna’s students. She was one of mine. Yet that day I learned an enduring lesson from her. Now, years later, whenever I hear the phrase, “I Can’t,” I see images of that fourth-grade funeral. Like the students, I remember that “I Can’t” is dead.

 God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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An old man, a boy & a donkey were going to town.  The boy rode on the donkey & the old man walked.  As they went along they passed some people who remarked it was a shame the old man was walking and the boy was riding. The man and boy thought maybe the critics were right, so they changed positions.

Then, later, they passed some people who remarked, ‘What a shame, he makes that little boy walk. ‘So they then decided they’d both walk! 

Soon they passed some more people who thought they were stupid to walk when they had a decent donkey to ride.  So, they both rode the donkey.

Now they passed some people who shamed them by saying how awful to put such a load on a poor donkey. The boy and man figured they were probably right, so they decide to carry the donkey.  

As they crossed the bridge, they lost their grip on the animal and he fell into the river and drowned.

What is the moral of the story?

If you try to please everyone, you might as well… end up in an awful situation!

God Bless you

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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Just thought of sharing this one for the day…………….. And for ever………………..

A gentleman once visited a temple under construction where he saw a sculptor making an idol of God. Suddenly he noticed a similar idol lying nearby. Surprised, he asked the sculptor, “Do you need two statues of the same idol?”

“No,” said the sculptor without looking up, “We need only one, but the first one got damaged at the last stage.”

The gentleman examined the idol and found no apparent damage. “Where is the damage?” he asked.

“There is a scratch on the nose of the idol.” said the sculptor, still busy with his work.

“Where are you going to install the idol ?”

The sculptor replied that it would be installed on a pillar twenty feet high.

“If the idol is that far, who is going to know that there is a scratch on the nose?” the gentleman asked.

The sculptor stopped his work, looked up at the gentleman, smiled and said,

“I know it and God knows it!”

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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Years ago, a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast.   He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops.

As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals.  Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. “Are you a good farm hand?” the farmer asked him. “Well, I can sleep when the wind blows,” answered the little man.

Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man’s work.

Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand’s sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled, “Get up!  A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!”

The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, “No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows.”

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm.

To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred.

The shutters were tightly secured.  Everything was tied down.

Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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Some years ago, on a hot summer day in south Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.

His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father.

It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father’s fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved. The newspaper reporter, who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, “But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad would not let go.”

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let you go. In the midst of your struggle, He’s been there holding on to you. The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That’s when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love on your arms, be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.

God has blessed you, so that you can be a blessing to others. You just never know where a person is in his/her life and what they are going through.  Never judge another person’s scars, because you don’t know how they got them.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

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My mom only had one eye. I hated her.  She was such an embarrassment.  My mom ran a small shop at a flea market.  She collected little weeds and such to sell…anything for the money we needed.  She was such an embarrassment.

There was this one day during elementary school.it was field day, and my mom came. I was so embarrassed. How could she do this to me? Threw her a hateful look and ran out. The next day at school…

“Your mom only has one eye?!?!”And they taunted me. I wished that my mom would just disappear from this world so i said to my mom, “mom. Why don’t you have the other eye?! If you’re only going to make me a laughingstock, why don’t you just die?!!!” my mom did not respond. I guess I felt a little bad, but at the same time, it felt good to think that I had said what I’d wanted to say all this time. Maybe it was because my mom hadn’t punished me, but I didn’t think that i had hurt her feelings very badly.

That night I woke up, and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My mom was crying there, so quietly, as if she was afraid that she might wake me. I took a look at her, and then turned away because of the thing I had said to her earlier, there was something pinching at me in the corner of my heart. Even so, I hated my mother who was crying out of her one eye. So I told myself that I would grow up and become successful.  Because I hated my one-eyed mom and our desperate poverty..

Then I studied real hard. I left my mother and came to Seoul and studied, and got accepted in the Seoul University with all the confidence I had. Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. Then I had kids, too.now I’m living happily as a successful man. I like it here because it’s a place that doesn’t remind me of my mom. This happiness was getting bigger and bigger, when. What?! Who’s this?! …it was my mother…..still with her one eye. It felt as if the whole sky was falling apart on me. My little girl ran away, scared of my mom’s eye. And I asked her, “who are you?!”"I don’t know you!!!”

As if trying to make that real, I screamed at her,” How dare you come to my house and scare my daughter!”"GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!!” and to this, my mother quietly answered, “oh, I’m so sorry. I may have gotten the wrong address,” and she disappeared out of sight. Thank goodness… she doesn’t recognize me..I was quite relieved.

I told myself that I wasn’t going to care, or think about this for the rest of my life. Then a wave of relief came upon me…one day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. So, lying to my wife that I was going on a business trip, I went. After the reunion, I went down to the old shack, that I used to call a house…just out of curiosity there, I found my mother fallen on the cold ground. But I did not shed a single tear. She had a piece of paper in her hand…. it was a letter to me.

“My son…I think my life has been long enough now.and… I won’t visit Seoul anymore…but would it be too much to ask if I wanted you to come visit me once in a while? I miss you so much.. and i was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I decided not to go to the school. …for you… and I’m sorry that I only have one eye, and I was an embarrassment for you. You see, when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost your eye. as a mom, I couldn’t stand watching you having to grow up with only one eye… so I gave you mine… I was so proud of my son that was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye. I was never upset at you for anything you did. The couple times that you were angry with me. I thought to myself, ‘it’s because he loves me.’

My son… oh, my son…I don’t want you to cry for me, because of my death. Please don’t cry…my son, I love you so much”

 He burst into tears. He could never forgive himself for making the biggest mistake of a lifetime. He realized how lucky he was to have a mom like her and how selfish he was that he never even cared for her. It was the extremely sad day for him. He would never get her mom back

Remember: people will forget what you said …people will forget what you did …but people will never forget how you made them feel.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo sJ

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