Smorgasbord #79
Little Kindness | The Local Level | Rant
Little Kindness
Moving to the US was one of the biggest risks I took in my twenties. It was also the one that paid the most dividends. I met my wife and started a family in the Southwest. But before I met Mrs. Cantú, there were some bleak months of loneliness I had to deal with. I didn’t have a car, so I would walk to a Chili’s close to my apartment, order chips and salsa, have a few beers, then order a rum and coke, and chat with the bartender for a bit before asking for the check and walking back to my apartment. I would do that so I would have some sort of human interaction outside of work.
Since the meeting other humans at Chili’s plan didn’t work as I expected, I abandoned it altogether, cut the middle man, and started drinking a six-pack of XX Lager and making my own rum and cokes at home. As you might have guessed, this was a bad move. The loneliness grew and grew, and its weight was crushing me. I remember walking to Mass at a parish nearby, trying to talk to a deacon afterward, bawling my eyes out uncontrollably, and being comforted by this man. That was a low-light moment.
I moved to a new apartment in a different part of town. I told my best friend about the move and how lonely I felt, and he sent me back a Google Maps link to St. Joan of Arc, the closest Catholic Church. He also gave me a mission: go to Mass, introduce yourself to the pastor, and meet people there. And so I did that. A little later, I joined the choir, which was a better way of meeting humans than going to Chili’s.
One of the girls in the choir invited us to her home. Her parents were hosting an open house every Sunday during Easter. Potluck-style, hang out for as little or as long as you want. I felt like I was around family. It was such a balm to my soul. My friend’s parents became good friends with Mrs. Cantú and me; they were also our NFP instructors.
The young adult group from a decade ago is now a community of young families. We’ve lost a few people here and there due to moves and life changes, but I will never forget the little kindness that was extended to me when I felt so alone.
Mrs. Cantú and I are trying to be like that couple that welcomed everyone into their home to celebrate our risen Lord. People that you see every day may be hurting, but won’t show it or tell you. An invitation can flip the script. A little kindness can make a difference.
The Local Level
“The faith is lived at the local level. On most issues of a Christian life, Rome is far away and not immediately relevant. It’s the local bishop and his pastors who shape the tenor of Catholic culture.”
-Archbishop Charles Chaput.
The quote above is from an interview The Pillar did with Archbishop Charles Chaput, which made me think about what I have been experiencing during this interregnum. Pope Francis has been laid to rest, and we’re in this period of mourning for the Holy Father. Everything seems to be business as usual, but there’s still an uncomfortable feeling (at least for me) dealing with uncertainty. This is my issue: trying to have control over things I have zero control over.
And that’s why Archbishop Chaput’s comment cut me deep. I went down a rabbit hole, thinking about how so-and-so has lost their faith. Christianity is in decline, and for every person we receive into the Church, there are about eight leaving. What about the money scandals, the sex abuse scandals, the ugly underbelly of the Church? What do I do with all of this?
First, pray and ask what to do with it. Second, realize I have zero control over any of those things. Third, focus on what I can do at the local level. Mrs. Cantú was quick to point out that God’s voice doesn’t sound like doubt, doom, and gloom. And it makes sense that the accuser could have been posing these questions, after all, I’ve been doubling down on prayer, and it has just become twice as hard to be patient and remain calm. I know because Mrs. Cantú pointed it out to me very lovingly.
On top of that, I’m dealing with a tweaked back and haven’t exercised in about a week. So I haven’t been able to produce endorphins in a way that doesn’t involve eating. Still, I was able to have some fellowship with some of my friends this week. That was nice. And then I realized that there are more converts to Catholicism in the United States than there are Episcopalians, and I felt a bit better. Also, the Church is growing in Africa and Asia, which is helping a bit.
What helped the most was thinking about Matthew 16:18 and how the gates of hell shall not prevail against the Church. Yes, there will be illnesses and cancers attacking the body of Christ, but He’s also the divine physician who can take care of it. Plus, I’m not responsible for a dicastery, let alone a member of the curia. What I’m responsible for is my Domestic Church, of which I’m the head... and janitor.
Rant
I grew up thinking that manual labor was an inferior way of making a living. I wasn’t told explicitly, but I was encouraged to study if I didn’t want to end up working as a bricklayer. My paternal grandfather was a farmer, and my maternal one worked at a concrete plant. Those men didn’t want their children to do manual labor. My dad became a teacher, and I became an engineer.
Before we had kids, Mrs. Cantú asked me how many children we should have. I answered three, arguing that I could see sending three kids to college. I’ll be honest and tell you that I no longer think a college education is necessary. I wouldn’t be comfortable sending my kid to an institution that goes against the values Mrs. Cantú worked so hard to instill in them at home. I also think the monetary exchange is uneven. The only way I got rid of my student loans was by moving to the US, where the exchange rate was 20x.
Mrs. Cantú and I still have some time to guide our oldest son and help him figure out the best course of action. Something that would’ve helped me twenty-odd years ago would’ve been the difference between vocation and what you do for a living. We all have a vocation, an invitation from God to live a certain way: marriage, religious, or consecrated single. Something very different would be what you do to put food on the table.
I don’t want my kids to hate their jobs. I don’t hate my job, but I am not doing what I love, so it doesn’t feel like work, if you catch my drift. My job is a means to an end. I work for a paycheck so that I can support my family. Would I rather live off writing this newsletter? Absolutely, but we’re not there yet. If writing were my main job, would I enjoy it as much? I don’t know.
Now and then, I daisy chain watching videos from the FIRE (Financial Independence, Retire Early) community and get all fired up about passive income and investments and freedom numbers and then Mrs. Cantú points out that most people doing that don’t have four children and that some of those practices would be better suited for a future stage of our lives. And she’s right, she’s very wise.
I also admire those adventurous individuals who buy land and start a homestead. I don’t think I have that kind of personality, nor does Mrs. Cantú. We have no interest in LARPing Little House on the Prairie. Still, I believe that working from home and being able to spend most of our waking hours under the same roof, even though it has its challenges, will yield plenty of benefits.
Mrs. Cantú and I were recently reflecting on how, when we were primarily an agrarian society, families used to work together. Not in a “this is the only and best way to do it” but in a “even though we don’t have a farm, we still have the working together (sort of) aspect.” I’ll admit this has only been the case for the last five years, but I think it's been transformative for our family, and I feel incredibly blessed with the setup we have.
We may not be homeschooling our children while sailing a boat across the world, but maybe one day we will. Just kiddin', Mrs. Cantú gets horrible motion sickness.
Peregrino is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Sobremesa
What are you bringing to the potluck?
How’s the interregnum treating you?
Pretend your financial needs are met. What would you like to do every day?
I think we forget that one of the things we were created for is labor. Adam was tasked with tending the Garden of Eden. However after the fall he had to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow.
Man no longer values labor and hard work. He is denied the satisfaction that comes from working, laboring, accomplishing tangible results. Man values wealth. It’s enshrined in our language which historically defines a gentleman as someone who doesn’t have to work for his money. It a legacy of Protestantism.
We’ve got it very wrong and we need to stop telling the lie. Man knows this instinctively yet often chooses to ignore it.
1. Lasagna.
2. Other than praying the Cardinal Electors will be open to the Holy Ghost it really hasn’t changed much.
3. Grow in love.