ON THE BALCONY
[This is a story homily for the 9th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A]
On the balcony they were holding hands – without even noticing when they reached out their hands to each other. It was something they did naturally – a lot more lately – especially when they were alone and more relaxed.
It was March 6, 2011.
The two of them were just sitting there on cold metal beach balcony chairs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Ocean City, Maryland.
It was cold.
“Good thing we brought our winter coats, Honey. Good thing we brought our winter coats.”
She thought to herself, “He often repeats himself. Doesn’t he?”
She remained quiet – cold and quiet – on the 6th floor balcony – and she didn’t see anyone else sitting outside in the cold – to her north or to her south – in these big cement – mountain cliff like condos – all along the ocean front.
He wanted to know if she was happy – that she was glad the two of them were here for their 40th Anniversary. It was a suggestion from their 4 kids – mainly their 2nd oldest – who was doing well financially so far with his job. He told them this time-share condo was open for them if they wanted it – for this week.
He stood up. He went inside and got a blanket. Then he came out and put it over her sitting there in the cold. “It beats Buffalo,” he said. “It beats Buffalo in early March.”
He sat down again – next to her – and once more both hands joined automatically.
Sunday afternoon – a couple of hours to just be - not much on TV – and they had taken a nice long walk in the morning along the boardwalk – after breakfast – after Mass – and they were going out for supper – to a crab place someone recommended.
You get beef in Buffalo. You get fish or crab cakes in Ocean City.
He sat there reflecting on life.
Without knowing it, he began thinking about the homily the priest preached that Sunday morning at the 7 o’clock Mass – in the nearby church – within walking distance of where they were staying. Nice.
The priest had talked about the readings for this Sunday being no brainers. He was saying, “Life offers the basic formula: build your house on rock or build your house on sand. One brings blessings; the other brings curses. It’s as simple as that.” And it was a very short sermon and both of them liked that. They were stereotypical early Sunday Morning Mass goers.
Bill and Helen certainly built their home on rock – not buying anything unless they had money to buy it. They learned that marriage was all about adjusting to and loving one another – having a good job and your own home and having good kids – and making sure they got a upbringing and a good education. And then enjoying grandkids – spoiling them – babysitting them – games – especially playing cards – and then watching their kids learn what they learned from having kids.
Bill and Helen learned about the importance of forgiveness and giving the other space when needed – and being there when needed. They learned from their mistakes. At times they forgot each other because of work or kids or outside interests – but they always recovered in time – making time for each other.
Nobody taught them – well marriage taught them – about the importance of good communication.
And their 4 kids are turning out okay so far – and all 4 are out of the house. A couple of their friends said that’s a big one. Jimmy, their second youngest, finally left – just last year – so they were all alone again – and they were discovering each other as two different people – but two people in their mid-60’s still in love – but in a love quite different than 40 years ago when they got married.
Still sitting out there on the cold balcony, Bill was wondering to himself: I guess these are the kinds of thoughts one has – when one goes away for a week with one’s wife – for a 40th anniversary get-a-way.
“Oops, Hon,” Bill said, “I’m sitting here doing all the thinking. What’s going on with you? What’s going on with you?”
Helen said, “Oh nothing. I was just thinking about the gospel we heard in church this morning – about building one’s house on rock or sand.
“Seeing the beach down there, the sermon got me thinking about my two brothers. When we were kids – we used to go to the beach in Cape Cold. I was thinking: Tom never learned. He always built his sandcastles too close to the ocean – and the tide would come in and wipe his out first – every time – and he would cry every time.
“Without knowing it then,” Helen said, “Tom always lived life too close to the edge – and no wonder his marriage and his family fell apart – and then he did it again with his second marriage – and that crumbled too. Ugh! Messy. Messy. Messy.
“On the other hand, Charlie my other brother, never was into sandcastles. He was always back in the house we rented for two weeks at Cape Cod in the summer – building his castles and his towers – but with Lego’s.
“I’m sitting here wondering: was that why Charlie became the architect and Tom became the stock broker. I don’t know.
Pause – another nice pause settled down on both of them like a blanket – neither of them looking at each other – both still looking out to sea.
Then Helen said, “That’s what I was thinking about. Why did you ask?”
“I was just wondering. I was just wondering.”
Another pause – another moment of quiet.
They just sat there – still – still looking out at the ocean – still holding hands – still being quite quiet.
Then Bill asked, “How do you think we did? How do you think we did?”
Helen said to herself – this time with an inner smile, “I wonder if he ever notices – he always repeats himself.”
Then she said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Then with a devilish impulse she repeated herself, “Bill I wouldn’t of had it any other way. We did well together – but let’s not come here to Ocean City, Maryland in March 2021 for our 50th Anniversary”
At that Bill held her hand even tighter and said, “Okay. - - - - - - - Okay. - - - - - - - We did well. We did well. And Helen – thanks for marrying me and loving me all through these years. Thanks for loving me all through the years. Amen. Amen.”
