A little story told by a friend bears a poignant point.

A man, a self-proclaimed atheist stayed home by the fire on Christmas Eve while his wife attended mass. Idly, he wandered to the window and stared into the darkness, lit softly by moon and snow. A flock of birds pecked about for food around his porch.

Knowing it would be slim pickings he took some bird seed to the front door, sprinkled it about and waited. But, fear forced the birds to keep distance.

Back inside, the man went again to the window. He thought, “Maybe I could sprinkle seed in the garage and open the door. With the light on, they might see the seed, enter, eat and be warm.” But the birds, fearful of such a huge being, could not trust his plan or follow his lead.

Then, caught by enthusiasm, the man thought: “If only I could become a bird! I could lead them easily. They would understand what I want of them; they would no longer be afraid.”

Suddenly, he came face to face with the meaning of Christmas, saying: “This is what God achieved through Jesus.” He realized by becoming human, the Father could have an intimate connection with those whom He loves—even to eat, laugh and dance with them. Most of all, He could teach them His ways and demonstrate His plan.

The simple story of a man who cared for birds displays the longing heart of the One who loves us. It was through sending Jesus that Father God could come to move, walk and talk revealing Himself and His great love.

He told us how to “come in out of the cold,” and enter the kingdom of warmth by giving up our fears, our need to control, our tendencies to manipulate, so that we can accept the righteousness, peace and Joy provided by His spirit. He came to bring us freedom. And He introduced us to the Father by saying, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.”    

A few months ago, I prayed earnestly to receive a clear concept of this Father who loved us that much. I wanted to comprehend – if only to the smallest degree—something about his personality.

I began an exercise which powerfully opened my eyes. It is one anyone can try. Make a list of the people who have most inspired or helped you in life. The “heroes,” the teachers, closest friends who are vividly ensconced in your memory. Carefully identify the characteristics experienced with each one of these people.

Now, write the characteristics you saw in each one. This can form a portrait—a portrait of the Father, the one who created us. Each of the characteristics, each talent, gift and ability we admire or have benefited from within others was first a part of Him, imparted for the common good of all.

For me, two hours were spent, identifying all the characteristics and giftedness I have ever seen or heard of in any and all who came to mind while working steadily with pen and paper.

It is awesome, trying to envision One Being with all of these attributes while attempting to capture a glimpse of God, the Father of life and love. Imagine it: He is sincere, honest, stable, a master of excellence; He is creative, inventive, ingenuous and resourceful; He is fruitful, productive and diligent; He is enthusiastic, warm and caring; He is witty and musical—able to laugh and treasure intimate moments; He is supportive yet challenging—firm but fair; He is affirming, generous and winsome. These are surely only a few of God’s attributes.

Attempting glimpses of God, can bring the possibility of a new appreciation for every person we encounter. Each one who walks this earth, holds a bit of God’s Self waiting to be discovered. Finding these glimpses of God’s essence in others can become a testament of our His presence within each one of us. Of course, we are not God. Not perfect. Because of this, there are lots of opportunities to do the God-like thing: forgive and continue to love. Scripture declares we are made “in His own image.” We have the great quest of living up to what we know of God—and also through the “glimpses” gained through the people who surround us.

Many things spoke of the Power and Presence of God. The hardness of marble altars, stone floors and wooden pews spoke of strength. Then I looked at the people. They were soft. Vessels of earthen clay, yet filled with spirit.

Many shy away from being called “soft.” But the softness I saw was holy. That which makes us vulnerable, malleable and capable of love.

Back home this truth was clearly seen when I visited the home of friends who had just lost their 24-year-old son in death. Neighbors, family and friends from their parish came, some with arms loaded with food. Many offered prayers from caring hearts. And as they left each carried away a piece of the pain. So much pain to be borne there in that home. Yet the grieving family knew through the people that they would not be bearing this alone. The softness of human love was leaving its impact, as love in action extends strength.

At times like this we often feel inept. Words may seem inadequate. But what we do have to give is enough. That is empathy, wrapped in flesh. When we are weak, then we are strong. The Apostle Paul exhibited that throughout the letters he left for believers who would follow “the way,” which Christ revealed to him.

When we see a fellow human hurting, something incredible occurs. There is an urging within to stop—set aside what we are doing—and go. “Be there.” It is love in action, coming from the treasure of one’s heart. Tears convey release, as solace is received.  Such “holy water” grants clear vision that this love, as it flows from others, is a healing force.

We all endure grievous trials during this life? 1 Peter 1:7, portrays how it is through these hardships that our faith comes forth “much more precious than gold that is tested by fire.” So, there is a refinement process and if we yield ourselves to it, enrichment results. And, God is praised.

While alongside my friends, I saw no anger or resentment. No bitterness spouted, although these dear people had lost another son a mere 13 months before. God is their ally, not their foe. And because of this, peace reigns in their home. Philippians 4:7, refers to this as “a peace of God which passes all understanding that guards our hearts through Christ Jesus.”

So here we are as humans, ideally all “soft covers”—no “hardbacks.” Fragile, destined for much wear and tear. Yet durable beyond comprehension. Filled with strength, having quite enough to share.

People. Earth’s richest resource. Vessels deemed worthy by God to carry His love. A love experienced most vividly when seen flowing from one to another. Oh, holy ones of God, we belong to each other.

Thank God for our hearts of flesh, capable of expanding, stretching, growing—even at the risk of breaking. Yet it is in the breaking that we are formed afresh. As Christ’s body, broken in the Eucharist and given away for the nourishment of many, we live on loving life and one another. The “breakings” do come, challenging our souls and in the end, what is remembered is that faith does hold strong when we depend on the power of the Spirit. This is what makes us more than flesh . . . And able to live forever.

I would like to suggest a gift that we could give to ourselves with no cash lay out. No monthly payments hazarding 2021. Living in the now could be one of the greatest gifts ever received. It is something we alone can give to ourselves. And, doing so will benefit everyone around us. (Even God and the neighbors.)

Notice how ”the now” is where children live. Given the passing of time, most of us adults have forgotten how to do that. Life finds us letting that go. As adults, we are habitually inclined to press toward tomorrow, next week, or what we can make happen years from now. Yet, the habit of favoring elusive tomorrows with fervor and anticipation robs our todays.

When we are not projecting our thoughts into the future, we regress into the past. But what of “this moment”—as living is best done in the now.

Some hold a rather fatalistic view of the future, as Matthew Prior wrote in Human Life, “What trifling coil do we poor mortals keep; Wake, eat and drink, evacuate, and sleep.” Yet, life is so much more.  A 16^th century monk said it best: “Not where I live do I breath, but where I love.”

The Bible says we carry a precious treasure within these “earthen vessels.” This takes pondering to perceive the truth of it.

Jesus spoke of the Kingdom of God being within us, righteousness (right doing), peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, as Romans 14:17 explains.

It seems the glory of God is most fully seen in us humans when we are daily submitting ourselves to the essence of that spiritual kingdom. This exemplifies enjoying the now. 

Of course, living in the now, does not always mean our experiences will be joyous. There are other emotions to be lived—and when we are honoring and identifying them, hard as they may be, at times, we are truly alive as we work through them.

Notice what happens when we are stopped in the present, prevented from rushing into the future? This can bring discomfort to our busy days. We can get “antsy” while waiting in line at the supermarket or waiting in the doctor’s office. What’s it like when brought to a halt in heavy traffic? Could this be a time to hum a tune, sing a song, or visit a favorite memory lived out with a loved one?

Why is it that we so often seem unable to receive these moments as gift? These times can be used for seeing more fully what is around us, even to notice people in more depth, here and there. Sending a blessing their way. Why not send them some love? We have a lot to give, right?

Rather than to rush past this truth in our hurry to grab the next moment, let’s stop to ponder the length and depths of what we are doing with our lives. This can show us our true heart’s desire. And, within the process of this exploration, we are living into the present moment.

 In a way, we are all “one”–all breathing the same air, most likely each of us are waiting to be set free of “the wait.” Do we really want to plunge into future moments, skipping the now? How about savoring each day that nourishes the soul.

We had three sons, Ted, Tim and Todd. When one of them would bicker with another, I would make him stop and think. At times, when one failed to share a goodie treat, I’d say, “Look closely at your brother. He has a tongue and a taster, too!” This worked, serving to make the little “perp” think beyond himself and remember that sharing is loving.

Surely, each of us shares a certain poverty. Not one of us can be certain of a tomorrow, a next year, or even the “next moment.”  We have this moment—tis all.

Do we love ourselves enough to live into this gift of “the now?”