Waiting on Tables

Making Life A Place Where We Know Each Other’s Name

Guest Writer: Larry Burton

“They won’t let me wait tables anymore, but I can do this.” 

We were with MK’s sister and her husband at a Wisconsin Supper Club called “The Butterfly,” named for the butterflies common in the area. Like all “real” supper clubs in Wisconsin, the menu was heavy on beef and almost void of vegetarian offerings. The décor was just this side of elegant; the tables were draped in white, and a small light flickered in the middle. The bar was large—of course, this is Wisconsin—and a large deck overlooked beautiful grounds.

We arrived at 4:30 on a Friday night—the only night the restaurant did not accept reservations. We were first in line, but many others took the invitation to visit the bar seriously. The room filled quickly, but the noise level stayed low. This was a positive for this hearing-impaired elder.

The woman clearing plates was clearly older than the young people who took orders and delivered food. She was attractive and engaging. “I’m 90 and have been working here for more than 50 years. I just love it and don’t ever want to leave.” She certainly had our attention as she shared the good news about the glorious ice cream desserts awaiting the lucky diner.

For better or worse, the days of 50-year tenure with one employer are long gone. Yet one cannot help but smile at the thought of all the friendships and experiences that made up that woman’s time there. There was also a sense that this supper club was a community not just for employees but for locals as well…especially on a Friday night. Say what you will about Wisconsin’s liquor consumption, its supper clubs still seem to serve a purpose.

Remember the opening jingle of the TV series “Cheers?” It included “where everybody knows your name.” Clearly, that is not the case for most of us, who have a place where we are recognized and accepted. In this time of division, it would be nice. That 90-year-old woman clearing our table made us feel that way, if only briefly. We hope to go back, and my agenda is to tell her how much she made my day.

Blessings.

Larry Burton
Madison, Wisconsin

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Dreams as a Spiritual Practice Again

Dreams as a Spiritual Practice Again

Guest Writer Bridget Hyde

“What I have continued to find… is that dreams are sources of wisdom for problem-solving and for enhancing life. They put us in touch with dimensions of ourselves that are normally hidden and that we need to grow toward our full potential.” — George R. Slater in Bringing Dreams to Life (Paulist Press, 1995).

The first dream I brought to spiritual direction was walking barefoot in the snow. When my foot touched the ground in the dream, I became aware I was dreaming, and I began to pray. Reflecting on that dream, I see a person becoming conscious of the dream’s divine nature. When my bare foot touched the ground, I became grounded in the grace of the unconscious. 

I had been recording my dreams, sharing them with friends, and honoring them through symbolic work, but I had not sought discernment from a spiritual director in this work. When I told a friend about this dream, she begged me to work on it with a retired Episcopal priest and spiritual director named Allen Whitman. 

I accepted her stern invitation and began a five-year study of my dreams with Allen. Through this inward study, I became aware of many aspects of my character. My work with dreams began to show me how to connect a dream’s symbolic language to my life’s circumstances. For example, when making a big decision, I dreamed that my airline flight was interrupted. The dream plane was grounded, and I was forced to wait before boarding another plane. 

When Allen and I worked on the dream, we realized that I had reached a waiting period in the decision-making process. Because of this dream, I waited to take decisive action. I am so glad I did. It was a wonder to see my work in dreams as a form of spiritual direction. Finally, I began to trust my dreams and their divine nature. Looking back, I see how God has guided me through my dreams, and I honor spiritual direction in dreams as a holy gift.

Bridget Hyde

 Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Remembering September 11 on its 25th Anniversary

Remembering September 11:Father Mychal’s Prayer

Remnants of Twin Towers at Newseum

“Lord, take me where you want me to go;

Let me meet who you want me to meet;

Tell me what you want me to say, and

Keep me out of your way. Amen.”—Fr. Mychal Judge, O. F. M., Chaplain, New York Fire Department, World Trade Center Death Certificate Number 1.

This now-famous prayer by Father Mychal Judge, who died at the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001, is on my mind today as our country observes its moment of silence. We will all pause respectfully as we hear the names of almost 3000 people who died that early autumn morning in four coordinated attacks on this country. Flags will be at half-mast. 

Mychal Judge, a Franciscan friar and Catholic priest who served as a chaplain for the New York City Fire Department, was unafraid to engage with life's messiness. After the first attack, he prayed over bodies in the streets, then entered the lobby of the North Tower, which had become an emergency command post. He was killed by flying debris when the South Tower collapsed. 

His biographers say his dying prayer was, “Jesus, please end this right now! God, please end this!” The iconic photograph of five men carrying his body from the North Tower has been described as an American Pieta, comparing it to another Michael’s statue of Mary holding the dead body of Jesus in St. Peter’s, Rome, or to a lesser-known work by Michelangelo, Deposition with Joseph of Arimathea [with thanks to Barbara Crafton for making this connection].

Father Mychal was also remembered with appreciation for his staunch support of LGBT rights and for his twenty-three years as a sober member of Alcoholics Anonymous. Another 3000 people attended his funeral. Father Michael Duffy closed his homily at that service with, “We come to bury Myke Judge’s body, but not his spirit. We come to bury his hands but not his good works. We come to bury his heart but not his love. Never his love.”

Perhaps all our prayers are being heard, as last week at Saint Mark’s, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, and Christians gathered for an Interfaith Service titled Love Their Neighbor that was standing room only.

Michael Daly, Daily News (New York), February 11, 2002.

Shannon Stapleton, September 11, 2001, Photojournalist.

Stephen Todd, Daily Ponderables, September 11, 2017.

“Slain Priest: ‘Bury His Heart, But Not His Love.’” September 8, 2011, NPR morning edition.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/