THERE’S BIG MOMENTS,
BUT DON’T FORGET
IT’S THE LITTLE
THINGS
THAT MAKE UP
A LIFETIME
INTRODUCTION
The
title of my homily is, “There’s Big Moments, But Don’t Forget It’s the Little
Things That Make Up A Lifetime.”
When
I read a short life of Mother Seton last night – today is her feast day – the
thought that hit me was the big details
that went into her life.
Then
it hit me, “That’s everyone’s life.”
Then
it hit me: “What were the little details that also made up her life – the ones
that don’t make the book?
So,
my thought for today: We have our big moments, but it’s good to take the time
to look at the little things that made up a lifetime.
In
doing this a surprise happens. We remember the big moments: babies arriving,
marriages, graduations, entering the military and getting out of the military -
as well as big hurts, divorces, being dumped, deaths, hospital stays. The
surprise is the remembering of little things - and most of life as the book of
a few years ago said: Most of life is the little things – the things we don’t
sweat.
I
once spent 5 weeks in a summer taking a course on the Better World Movement. It
was at Convent Station, New Jersey – one of the key places for Mother Seton’s
Sisters of Charity. Looking back the most significant moment of the whole 5
weeks took place about a dozen times. I would walk the property - and visit a
cemetery. I would stand there on the
cemetery grass and there were all these stones of countless women who gave their
lives for others and for God. But I never heard of any one of them. In the
silence, standing on the summer grass, that’s the thought that hit me every
time I dropped into that row after row after row of same stones cemetery.
It
was different than another cemetery I used to visit up near Poughkeepsie, NY.
That cemetery was on the grounds of the Culinary Institute of America – the former Jesuit Novitiate of St. Andrew’s. As I
read those stones I had heard of the names of some of the Jesuits buried there:
Martindale maybe, John Wynne, the founding editor of America Magazine, and
especially Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. The cemetery key guy says that 10 to 15
people visit that grave per week.
But
for some reason I remember the Convent Station cemetery of little old nuns
more.
I
have read a lot of poems but for some reason I remember a poem by a little-known
Irish poet named William Allingham.
FOUR DUCKS ON A POND
Four ducks on a pond,
A grass-bank beyond,
A blue sky of spring,
White clouds on the wing;
What a little thing
To remember for years–
To remember with tears!
ELIZABETH
SETON
So,
Elizabeth Ann Bayley Seton was born in New York City, August 28, 1774.
Her
mom died when Elizabeth was 3 years old.
A
year later her dad remarried. In time she and her older sister had to adjust to
7 half brothers and sisters. That marriage wasn’t always easy for Elizabeth and
her older sister. What were the little things that annoyed and bothered her?
They
had money. They had the Episcopal church.
Elizabeth
got married at 20 to William Magee Seton and they had 5 kids.
Then
they were hit with financial troubles.
They
were hit with sickness in William’s body.
This
brought William to religion and then to
Italy to recover where William dies an early death – and in time there
Elizabeth discovers Catholicism thanks to an Italian family who takes good care
of Elizabeth.
She
comes back to the States – struggles with finding a job –
teaching
– then in time she starts her big life work – Emmitsburg – taking care of kids,
religion, Catholicism, helping the poor, seeing two of her daughters, Rebecca
and Anna Marie die – and then various sisters in her community.
A
life….
CONCLUSION
But
what were the little things – that gave her everyday courage – to live the life
she lived?
I
don’t know – they don’t make the biographies – so we have to look at our own
lives and notice the things that make our day – as well as the lives of those
around us. Amen.
Let
me close with a poem by Archer prince – which my niece Monica gave a framed
copy to at her parents 50th Wedding Anniversary:
Blow me a kiss across
the room;
Say I look nice when I'm not.
Touch my hair as you pass my chair:
Little things mean a lot.
Give me your arm as we cross the street;
Call me at six on the dot.
A line a day when you're far away;
Little things mean a lot.
Give me your hand when I've lost the way;
Give me your shoulder to cry on.
Whether the day is bright or gray,
Give me your heart to rely on.
Give me the warmth of a secret smile,
To show me you haven't forgot;
For now and forever, for always and ever,
Little things mean a lot.
Say I look nice when I'm not.
Touch my hair as you pass my chair:
Little things mean a lot.
Give me your arm as we cross the street;
Call me at six on the dot.
A line a day when you're far away;
Little things mean a lot.
Give me your hand when I've lost the way;
Give me your shoulder to cry on.
Whether the day is bright or gray,
Give me your heart to rely on.
Give me the warmth of a secret smile,
To show me you haven't forgot;
For now and forever, for always and ever,
Little things mean a lot.
