As a boy my favorite board game was “Chutes and Ladders.” The players roll dice to move from the start to the finish, from the bottom of the board to the top. If you land on a chute, you slide back and down. It was a bummer. Land on a ladder, and you jump well up the board and near the goal. It was a thrill to find a ladder and draw closer to the goal. That’s life, isn’t it? At every moment, we’re either moving closer or farther from the goal of our lives.

When I was in middle school, there were times I didn’t want my fellow students to see my parents drop me off or pick me up in the school parking lot. I was embarrassed of my parents. Why? I have no idea. Maybe it was our station wagon. Or I didn’t want to look like a little kid. But in retrospect that was a silly thing to do. I was a kid. And I had two parents who loved me and had built a wonderful family. I was afraid of the other kids’ judgment. How silly! I should have been afraid of forgetting or downplaying my family, which is where my identity had its deep roots.

In the backyard of the house where I live with other priests, there is a lemon tree which produces a huge amount of fruit. One evening in the spring I needed some lemons for a chicken dish. I glanced from the kitchen and saw the tree bursting with large, bright, gorgeous lemons, hanging thick on seemingly every branch. Turning to Fr. Bob (I’ll change his name to protect the innocent) who sat on the couch, I said, “Father, could you pick a few lemons for me?” He said sure and into the backyard he went.

Of all Jesus’ miracles, the most unsettling might be when he made a dead person alive. We know of three times when he did so: a girl, a young man, and Lazarus. The miracle teaches us he has the power of life and death. He anticipates his resurrection. Sin hurts us. Some sin kills us, spiritually. The three miracles reveal to us that no matter our circumstances, Jesus can give life to us. 

God asks a rhetorical and slightly sarcastic question to Samuel, the prophet: “How long will you grieve for Saul, whom I have rejected as king of Israel?” Like us, Samuel is depressed that the old king failed. It’s painful to admit that the old regime is done. But God won’t let us wallow our pity-party forever. “I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem,” announces the Lord, “for I have chosen my king from among his sons.” Samuel finally goes and anoints the young David as the new king. And his kingdom is glorious; it’s the golden age of Israel’s earthly history. 

When I became the pastor of a large parish, I soon found myself, for the first time in my life, riddled with anxiety, headaches, difficulty making decisions, and fatigue. I called a therapist friend and told her my symptoms and asked if she thought I needed a serious medical exam. She said, “How much water do you drink?” I told her, “I haven’t had time to drink water lately.” She responded, “You’re chronically dehydrated. Drink eighty-five ounces a day and call me in a week.” I started guzzling water and in a week all my symptoms went away. I felt great. 

Why sign up for regular Holy Hour? This question has been on your mind, perhaps, or maybe someone suggested it to you. Maybe you already attend Adoration on regular basis but are reluctant to commit for any number of reasons: the length of time, the burden of other duties, the fear that you can't keep up regular commitment. Maybe you find Adoration chore. You love God, but sitting there is just so boring. Nothing ever seems to happen. Serving God in other ways feels more productive.