“Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless” (Mother Teresa). Do you remember some kind words spoken to you years ago? Perhaps they changed your outlook and attitude, or even the direction of your life. Today is an opportunity to speak or write kind words. Will we use this opportunity or waste it? Be creative in your words. Instead of “Have a nice day” try “Have a blessed day.”  Instead of a perfunctory thank-you to a cashier, give a sincere compliment about the service. If you’re a teacher take the time to write words of affirmation on papers. If you’re a wife or husband, put a loving note in a place where it will be found. In our age of texting when whole sentences are reduced to a few letters, give some extra thought to whatever you write today. The echoes may be endless.

Pope Francis has written in Laudato Si, “Because of us, thousands of species will no longer give glory to God by their very existence, nor convey their message to us. We have no such right.”  I never before thought of denying God God’s rights. God has created millions of species to the glory of the Divine, and we humans have thoughtlessly wiped out numerous species. God no longer hears their chirps or delights in their activities. How does God regard our wiping out creation’s design planned billions of years ago? And what messages have we not heard? What beauty have we not seen? What mysteries have we not contemplated?

Out of focus TV LCD set and remote control in man’s hand isolated over a white background.

While media can “shield us from direct contact with the pain, the fears and the joys of others and the complexity of their personal experiences,” (Laudato Si), if produced with compassion, television programs give us the personal side of major events, whether disasters or triumphs. We see the smiles of children, the frustration of migrants, the exhaustion of doctors and nurses, the heartache of the grieving, despair, discouragement, effort, courage, and every other human emotion that we may never experience ourselves. Viewing with our hearts, we feel the need for sacrifice, generosity, sharing; and we become more human ourselves, having experienced our human family.

Visitors from California to Toledo, Ohio, are amazed at all the green. Back home they are paid not to have a lawn. The Californians were thrilled to learn that it would rain during their stay, for rain had not splashed on their faces in months. While we Ohioans bemoan “rain on our picnic,” the visitors from the West felt that the rain made for a great vacation. As Pope Francis wrote, “Rather than a problem to be solved, the world is a joyful mystery to be contemplated with gladness and praise.”

Pope Francis has written, “Because all creatures are connected, each must be cherished with love and respect, for all of us as living creatures are dependent on one another.”

On a perfect day I walked a couple miles through a metropark. Twice I saw a single deer on the path. The first had an unusually broad fluffy white tail, which she modeled for my admiration. “Hello, Beautiful!” I greeted her. We stood just looking at one another, and I sensed she could catch my spirit. A communion of spirits. Another chance meeting occurred just a minute later. Another deer, this one a bit younger. Again my breath caught in admiration. “Hello, Beautiful!” Again, I felt some connection. Dependence goes beyond a food chain. Creatures are connected by beauty.

Living near construction I hear backup beeps constantly. All other warnings are in front of us, making us aware of something in the future. A backup beep is a warning in reverse, a warning that something is going backwards. What if we could back up our thoughts and hear a warning beep before we continued our ruminations? What if we could back up our speech and hear a warning beep before we finished our sentence? What if we could back up our shopping before we spent too much? What if we had a beep to keep us from eating too much, sleeping too long, or wasting time? Life is going forward, but taking some time to reflect on backup beeps may be profitable. Examining our conscience at the end of the day may give us some backup beeps to move forward better tomorrow.

Are you on a mission? Pope Francis definitely is. He writes: “I am on a mission on this earth; that is the reason why I am here in this world” (EG 273).  Think of what we could do if we said the same.

When we’re on a mission, we make disciples! A disciple is a learner, and learning is life-long. When we identify ourselves as followers of Jesus we must keep on learning from Jesus and about Jesus. When did you learn from Jesus or about Jesus this past week? In prayer did you listen to him? Did you read or listen to the Pope’s homilies and speeches in the United States?  Was the Bible on your lap? We we’re confident that we really are disciples, we can make disciples.

To make disciples we make Jesus alive and real for ourselves and others. It’s creating a hunger in people for Jesus. When people look at us—our joy, our patience, our enthusiasm, our virtue—do they say “I want what you got”?

We do much for ourselves, our families, our community. But what is more important than what we’re doing for ourselves is being on mission to make disciples. True, we must take care of ourselves, but we can’t stop with making things better for us. Saint Paul would call even these important things “rubbish” (Phil. 3:8) if we do not really know Christ and are fully engaged in making disciples. It’s what we’re meant to do. So let’s do it!

Earlier this week I saw a perfectly formed tree, every leaf evenly red, not a green leaf to be found, nor a dusty red leaf under the tree. I was privileged to see the exact moment of the “in between” of seasonal change. Nothing was left of summer. Autumn’s falling leaves had not begun. Don’t you think that I—a writer of blogs—should be able to describe such perfection, such beauty, such a moment of the “in between”? I cannot. Pope Francis says the same in Laudato Si:  “We seem to think that we can substitute an irreplaceable and irretrievable beauty with something which we have created ourselves”  34. Although he was speaking of human intervention at the service of business, I can apply it to my limited vocabulary. (Or can I justify my ineptness by saying I was speechless?) Poets have also tried – “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree”—Maybe “Ah” is the right word. Better yet—silence.

Summer is coming to an end. With some sadness do we count our losses? No more picnics, no more swimming, no more trips to the beach. Or do we look back over June, July, and August and count our gains? What have the bits of extra leisure gained for us or for others?  Did we have more opportunity to put service to others over our own personal desires? Could we afford the time to prepare some delightful surprises for children? Did we include in our vacation space for God? The coming short winter days may make us greedy with our daylight time. The cold may keep us sitting by a fire or in front of a TV. But for now El Nino promises a pleasant autumn, a couple more months to focus on our gains. What will we do with the hours of daylight savings time?

The Irish speak of thin places where heaven and earth are very close, places where God can seep through the cracks. Autumn is a time when God seems to seep through the cracks rather easily. Stars are brighter, air crisper, colors more brilliant. Thoughts are turned nostalgically to the “last chances”—last garden pickings of tomatoes and sweet corn, last smells of mown grass, whole days of open windows. Our souls are constantly tugged, our minds more attentive, our thoughts more reflective, our bodies sensing the incremental differences. We’re more aware, and God sees his chance to seep through.