God in all things

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder’s children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines. They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.  Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the  years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will support you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated over and over, “No … no … no … no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look, look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother … for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, long ago, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love   “THE PRAYING HANDS”

God Bless you

Fr Eugene Lobo S J

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building business to live a more leisurely life with his wife and enjoy his extended family. He would miss the paycheck each week, but he wanted to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go & asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but over time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career.

When the carpenter finished his work, his employer came to inspect the house. Then he handed the front-door key to the carpenter and said, “This is your house… my gift to you.”

The carpenter was shocked!

What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently.

So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then, with a shock, we realize we have to live in the house we have built. If we could do it over, we would do it much differently.

God Bless you

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

A young woman went to her grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one would pop up.

Her grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire, and soon the pots came to boil. In the first pot she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word. In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her granddaughter, she asked, “Tell me what you see.”

“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied. Her grandmother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The grandmother then asked the granddaughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg. Finally, the grandmother asked the granddaughter to sip the coffee. The granddaughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma then asked,

“What does it mean, grandmother?”

Her grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

“Which are you?” she asked her granddaughter. 

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

 It was an unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had arrived and everything was alive with color. But a cold front from the North had brought winter’s chill back to Indiana. I sat with two friends in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town square.

The food and the company were both especially good that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back.

He was carrying a well worn sign that read, “I will work for food.” My heart sank. I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor.

I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: “Don’t go back to the office until you’ve at least driven once more around the square.” And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square’s third corner. I saw him.

He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through his sack. I stopped and looked, feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town’s newest visitor. “Looking for the pastor?” I asked.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just resting.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“Oh, I ate something early this morning.”

“Would you like to have lunch with me?”

“Do you have some work I could do for you?”

“No work,” I replied. “I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch.”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things. I asked some surface questions. “Where you headed?”

“St. Louis.”

“Where you from?”

“Oh, all over; mostly Florida.”

“How long you been walking?”

“Fourteen years,” came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, “Jesus is The Never Ending Story.”

Then Daniel’s story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He’d made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God.

“Nothing’s been the same since,” he said, “I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now.” “Ever think of stopping?” I asked. “Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That’s what’s in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads.”

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question turned inside for a moment and then I asked: “What’s it like?”

“What?”

“To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?”

“Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn’t make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people’s concepts of other folks like me.”

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, “Come ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I’ve prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in.”

I felt as if we were on holy ground. “Could you use another Bible?” I asked. He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite.

“I’ve read through it 14 times,” he said. “I’m not sure we’ve got one of those, but let’s stop by our church and see.”

I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful. “Where you headed from here?”

“Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon.”

“Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?

“No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that’s where I’m going next.” He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission.

I drove him back to the town square where we’d met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things. “Would you sign my autograph book?” he asked. “I like to keep messages from folks I meet.”

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, “I know the plans I have for you,” declared the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope.”

“Thanks, man,” he said. “I know we just met and we’re really just strangers, but I love you.”

“I know,” I said, “I love you, too.” “The Lord is good.”

“Yes. He is.

How long has it been since someone hugged you?” I asked.

A long time,” he replied.

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, “See you in the New Jerusalem.”

“I’ll be there!” was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bed roll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, “When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?”

“You bet,” I shouted back, “God bless.”

“God bless.”

And that was the last I saw of him. Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them….a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them. I remembered his words:

If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?” Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.

“See you in the New Jerusalem,” he said.

Yes, Daniel, I know I will….

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

John is the kind of guy you love to hate.  He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say.  When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, “If I were any better, I would be twins!”

He was a natural motivator.

If an employee was having a bad day, John was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.  Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up and asked him, “I don’t get it!.  You can’t be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?”

He replied, “Each morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two choices today.  You can choose to be in a good mood or … you can choose to be in a bad mood … I choose to be in a good mood.”

“Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or … I can choose to learn from it.  I choose to learn from it … Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or … I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.”

“Yeah, right, it’s not that easy,” I protested.

“Yes, it is,” he said.  “Life is all about choices.  When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice.  You choose how you react to situations.  You choose how people affect your mood.  You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood.  The bottom line is … It’s your choice how you live your life.”

I reflected on what he said.

Soon thereafter, I left the Tower Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.  Several years later, I heard that he was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower.  After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, he was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.

I saw him about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, “If I were any better, I’d be twins … Wanna see my scars?”   I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place.

“The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon-to-be born daughter,” he replied.  “Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or … I could choose to die.  I chose to live.”

“Weren’t you scared?  Did you lose consciousness?” I asked.

He continued, “The paramedics were great.  They kept telling me I was going to be fine.  But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared.  In their eyes, I read “He’s a dead man”.  I knew I needed to take action.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me,” said John. “She asked if I was allergic to anything.”   “Yes,” I replied.  The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply.

I took a deep breath and yelled, “Gravity.” Over their laughter, I told them, “I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.”

He lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude … I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own. After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

God Bless you

An old man once had an argument with his only son. He tried to apologize many times but the young man would not listen. The father never gave up because he loved his son with all his heart, but the son would not give in, because he was too blinded by his pride.

Years passed and as the man lay in his deathbed, he made a final attempt to reconcile with his son, but still he would not listen and so the father died with a heart full of grief.

During this time the son too had a child who had now grown up into a young adult. To this child he never mentioned his father and when the young man asked about his grandfather he would tell him never to mention him again.

One day, they too were both involved in a hot argument and his son fled away as his father did many years before. The man was extremely saddened and this time he had no pride, but felt completely isolated.

He was afraid that he had lost his son forever and for the first time after many years he turned to God in prayer. At that moment something filled his heart and he realized how his father must have felt many years back.

He remembered how he had hurt his old man and only at that point he realized the extent of the hurt he had caused. The more he thought the more he understood how unjust he was with his old father, the man who gave him everything through out his life.

With these sad thoughts he felt asleep on the couch. Next morning when he opened his eyes he found himself tucked in his bed and in front of him stood his son. The man could not believe his eyes, and the two hugged each other while they cried together.

After lots of apologies, the young man explained that up till the day before he felt lots of hatred towards his father, but during the night he had a strange dream that touched his heart. He dreamt that an old man was hugging him, and as he embraced him, all his hatred turned into love. The old man then told him to forgive and forget. He then explained that as soon as he woke up he came running to his father’s house.

At this point the man told his son that on the same night, he learnt an important lesson, and how he had let his father down when he was younger. The son wanted to know more about his grandfather who he never met or even saw, and this was the most appropriate time.

The man went to an old bookshelf and fetched an old family album. He then picked an old photograph of his father and when the son saw it, he remained dumb-founded. The son then explained that the man in the photograph was the same one he dreamt of the night before.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

Professor began his class by holding up a glass with some water in it.  He held it up for all to see & asked the students

“How much do you think this glass weighs?”

‘50gms!’ …. ‘100gms!’ …..’125gms’  …the students answered.                       

“I really don’t know unless I weigh it,” said the professor, “but, my question is: What would happen if I held it up like this for a few minutes?”

‘Nothing’ …..The students said.

‘Ok what would happen if I held it up like this for an hour?’ the professor asked.

‘Your arm would begin to ache’ said one of the students

“You’re right, now what would happen if I held it for a day?”

“Your arm could go numb, you might have severe muscle stress & paralysis & have to go to hospital for sure!” ….. Ventured another student & all the students laughed

“Very good.”

But during all this, did the weight of the glass change?”  asked the professor.

‘No’…. Was the answer.

 “Then what caused the arm ache & the muscle stress?”

 The students were puzzled.

“What should I do now to come out of pain?” asked professor again.

“Put the glass down!” said one of the students

“Exactly!” said the professor.

Life’s problems are something like this. Hold it for a few minutes in your head & they seem OK.  Think of them for a long time & they begin to ache.  Hold it even longer & they begin to paralyze you. You will not be able to do anything.   It’s important to think of the challenges or problems in your life, But EVEN MORE IMPORTANT is to ‘PUT THEM DOWN’ at the end of every day before you go to sleep.  That way, you are not stressed, you wake up every day fresh &strong & can handle any issue, any challenge that comes your way! 

Remember friend to ‘PUT THE GLASS DOWN TODAY! ‘

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.  Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.   He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.  Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.

If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck.

The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.  Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel.

An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.  I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money–fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.  I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn’t enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

 On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left  to get home before the sun came up. When it was time for me to go home at seven o’clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver’s side door, crawled inside and knee led in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.  And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.  As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop….THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer:  1. ‘Yes!’ 2. ‘Not yet.’ 3. ‘I have something better in mind.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ’

Once upon a time there was a bird of multi-coloured feathers and wings.  He used to soar high up in the skies. He was free and happy. One day he fell into a deep dry well. Fortunately he was unhurt since the well was pretty broad and he glided slowly down.  Once at the bottom of the well, the bird did not do a thing to get out of trouble.  Instead, he sat down at the bottom of the well and expected people to get him out of the well.  When no one came to his rescue, the bird began lamenting his lot and started indulging in self-pity.

Poor me said the bird to itself, what wrong have I done to deserve this lot? Down here, if left to my self I am sure to die.  Blaming the misfortune it has faced the bird went on to say, it is not due to any of my fault that I fell here into the well.  It is really the fault of the person who dug the well in this open place.  It is the fault of those people who did not care to cover the mouth of the well. It is the fault of the people who walk around here not to have warned me of the existence of the well and of the impending danger. No, it is not my fault. And with that it began to shout for help asking people to get it out.

But the people outside went on telling the little bird: you have got the wings. You make use of them and you can fly and come out of the well.

But the bird went on howling: if I fly to come out I may bump into the wall of the well, you know. It is so narrow and some simple fool has made it this way placing difficulties on all. Certainly I will hurt myself. It is better you get me out of here.  It is not my fault that I am caught up in this mess.

But those outside, advised him saying you have the beautiful smart wings. Come on, make an effort and use them.  You are certainly unhurt and if you don’t try your self, no one will come forward to help you.  Surely you can help yourself.

But the bird refused to try. It made no effort to save itself. It just kept on lamenting and expressing how people are cruel saying, no one cares. All are heartless. They are unable to see how much I suffer. It only tried to attract self pity.

Without any further realisation, the bird settled for itself and began enjoying being trapped at the bottom of the well. Finally he gave up his thought of getting out of the well and so also out of his misery. People soon lost interest. The wings of the bird slowly withered away and it could fly no more. Feeling pity for itself, it crippled and lived in a sorry state at the bottom of the well.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ

GOD: Hello. Did you call me?

Me: Called you? No. who is this?

GOD: This is GOD. I heard your prayers. So I thought I will chat.

Me: I do pray. Just makes me feel good. I am actually busy now. I am in the midst of something.

GOD: What are you busy at? Ants are busy too.

Me: Don’t know. But I cant find free time. Life has become hectic. It’s rush hour all the time.

GOD: Sure. Activity gets you busy. But productivity gets you results. Activity consumes time. Productivity frees it.

Me: I understand. But I still cant figure out. By the way, I was not expecting YOU to buzz me on instant messaging chat.

GOD: Well I wanted to resolve your fight for time, by giving you some clarity. In this net era, I wanted to reach you through the medium you are comfortable with.

Me: Tell me, why has life become complicated now?

GOD: Stop analyzing life. Just live it.. Analysis is what makes it complicated.

Me: why are we then constantly unhappy?

GOD: Your today is the tomorrow that you worried about yesterday. You are worrying because you are analyzing. Worrying has become your habit. That’s why you are not happy.

Me: But how can we not worry when there is so much uncertainty?

GOD: Uncertainty is inevitable, but worrying is optional.

Me: But then, there is so much pain due to uncertainty. .

GOD: Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.

Me: If suffering is optional, why do good people always suffer?

GOD: Diamond cannot be polished without friction. Gold cannot be purified without fire. Good people go through trials, but don’t suffer. With that experience their life become better not bitter.

Me: You mean to say such experience is useful?

GOD: Yes. In every term, Experience is a hard teacher.  She gives the test first and the lessons afterwards.

Me: But still, why should we go through such tests? Why can’t we be free from problems?

GOD: Problems are Purposeful Roadblocks Offering Beneficial Lessons (to) Enhance Mental Strength. Inner strength comes from struggle and endurance, not when you are free from problems.

Me: Frankly in the midst of so many problems, we don’t know where we are heading…

GOD: If you look outside you will not know where you are heading. Look inside. Looking outside, you dream. Looking inside, you awaken. Eyes provide sight. Heart provides insight.

Me: Sometimes not succeeding fast seems to hurt more than moving in the right direction. What should I do?

GOD: Success is a measure as decided by others. Satisfaction is a measure as decided by you. Knowing the road ahead is more satisfying than knowing you rode ahead. You work with the compass. Let others work with the clock.

Me: In tough times, how do you stay motivated?

GOD: Always look at how far you have come rather than how far you have to go. Always count your blessing, not what you are missing.

Me: What surprises you about people?

GOD: when they suffer they ask, “why me?” When they prosper, they never ask “Why me” Everyone wishes to have truth on their side, but few want to be on the side of the truth.

Me: Sometimes I ask, who am I, why am I here. I can’t get the answer.

GOD: Seek not to find who you are, but to determine who you want to be. Stop looking for a purpose as to why you are here.  Create it. Life is not a process of discovery but a process of creation.

Me: How can I get the best out of life?

GOD: Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear.

Me: One last question. Sometimes I feel my prayers are not answered.

GOD: There are no unanswered prayers. At times the answer is NO.

Me: Thank you for this wonderful chat. I am so happy to start the New Year with a new sense of inspiration.

GOD: Well. Keep the faith and drop the fear. Don’t believe your doubts and doubt your beliefs. Life is a mystery to solve not a problem to resolve. Trust me. Life is wonderful if you know how to live.

God Bless You

Fr Eugene Lobo SJ