Dust to Dust

Dust to Dust

“So whoever knows the right thing to

do and fails to do it, for him it is sin."

-James 4:17

Life begins at… conception? Heartbeat? Viability? Introduction in to this world? A subject of debate in today’s society. Beginning of life in the Christian community? Not debateable- Baptism.

In 1923, St. Patrick’s was the pearl of this industrial suburb of Milwaukee. Today, despite its age, the structure maintains the calming, historic feel of the traditional- six large bronze pendant lights hanging from the ceiling, a mesmerizing statue of Mary off to the side, a marble communion rail, a Confessional with an entrance on either side of the cubicle housing the forgiver of sins, a cavernous quiet found only in an old church, the smell of burned wax, and a 10’ tall wooden cross hand-carved by the best craftsmen of the day. Parishioners could feel the power of Calvary as the crucified Savior looked down upon them.

Frankie was carried to the front of the aging St. Patrick’s. At the tender age of three weeks, he was not able to walk there himself. He was also not able to speak for himself. That job fell to his Mom, Dad, and his Godparents, Uncle Bob and Aunt Betty.

Celebrant: “Do you reject Satan?”

Parents and Grandparents: “I do.”

Celebrant: “And all his works?”

Parents and Godparents: “I do.”

Later in life, Frankie would sometimes reflect on the effectiveness of someone else doing all that rejecting for him. How could he be held to commitments made on his behalf by others? But he accepted the good intentions of the practice. Like most of us, he would have to answer the challenges of evil on his own accord often enough as he made his journey in life.

The fabric of St. Patrick’s school was woven into Frankie’s life. First through eighth grade, mass every school day, sixty kids to a class, valuable instruction and discipline provided by the good School Sisters of Notre Dame. One of the four resident priests provided religious education three times a week. The Catholic Faith also provided the youth in its charge with a series of what you might call booster shots to better inoculate them from the temptations of the Evil One. First Communion, Confession, and Confirmation ( where he personally rejected Satan and all his works) all required additional education and commitment. Frankie was well-armed to reject Satan and all his works.

But sins are not the only measure of a man’s life. They count heavily on the final scorecard, but other things need to be considered, such as accomplishments, acts of kindness, omissions, lack of empathy, and the curse of overall inadequate effort to do the things God intended for us to do during our time on this earth.

It is a fault of the human condition that most neglect to check out the scoreboard until it’s too late to change the final tally. So it was for Frankie as he reflected on his life while looking out his hospital window. He didn’t have much time.

Grade school was 99% fond memories- such good friends, so many laughs, four-square on the playground, touch football in the street, goofing around with Billy Jensen in the back of the classroom. And some good deeds! Alter boy for three years. Shoveled the widow Jenkins’ sidewalk and mowed her lawn. Performed household chores without complaint. Frankie was a good son and a good boy… except for a few very minor missteps.

1)      Copied from Marcia Miller’s paper on a spelling test in the 5^th Grade.

2)      Harbored impure thoughts about Susie Harper… nearly daily from the 6^th grade on.

3)      Swiped diminutive Willie Thompson’s dessert on occasion at lunch.

4)      Lied to his parents when he’d head off to the local ice skating rink to meet Cheryl whose last name escaped him.

Regrettable acts for sure, but nothing too serious. All in all a pretty good start for Frankie. He thought he was comfortably in the “Reject Satan” column up to this point.

Even non-believers tend to become believers at the end. It is too unsettling, too depressing, to think there’s nothing after one’s final moments. Practical considerations of life, death, and God are thrown out the window and replaced by hope, dear sweet hope. Frankie was in the “not so sure” camp his entire life, but now, at the end, he willed himself to believe. The next question would be where he’d end up. He strained his brain trying to answer that question. Did he deserve a place in heaven?

“How are you doing, Frankie?”

“I’m ok, Doris.”

He wasn’t ok, but that’s what guys like Frankie always say.

“Say, Doris, when am I up for another round of the pain meds?”

“Sorry, Frankie, not for a couple of hours.”

St. Paul advocated that good works are the pathway to heaven. Other religious educators tell us it is through faith that we get there, and then there is the “You only get there through Jesus” faction. Frankie wasn’t sure which theory was correct, so he was hoping he had racked up enough points in each category that his cumulative score would be enough.

Tests of his commitment to reject Satan were more challenging and visited Frankie more often during his years at Central High. Diminished supervision, the freedom to explore and experiment, coupled with the often irresistible forces of peer pressure, can lay dangerous traps for those wishing to stay on the path of the straight and narrow.

He maintained a solid B- average while participating in three sports- football, basketball, and track. Frankie was a popular kid- lots of friends, Captain of his football team, homeroom rep on the Student Council, and never without a date for the big events. He worked weekends at the local bike shop and still did all the outdoor chores at home. As he leaned back into the stack of pillows Doris kept rearranging, Frankie felt pretty good about his high school years. But then he recalled some troublesome moments.

1)      Re-wrote a book report his older brother had done five years ago and handed it in as his work product… twice.

2)      Harbored impure thoughts about Nancy Thorstead and Mrs. Maki… almost every day.

3)      Looked upon girls as a means to satisfy his worldly desires.

4)      Attended numerous drinking parties, often fueled by alcohol supplied by his older brother.

5)      Never told his parents that he put the dent in his Mother’s car, letting them believe it happened in a Walmart parking lot while she was shopping.

This was a little more dicey for Frankie. There were some definite “no-no’s” in there, especially his regrettable perception of members of the opposite sex. It’s never too late Frankie.

“Dear God, this is Frankie. I haven’t been to Confession like forever, and I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but seeing as how I don’t have much time left, I thought I better ask for forgiveness for some of the things have done. I’m sorry I cheated on those book reports, and I shouldn’t have had those fantasies about Nancy Thorstead and Mrs. Maki… although I think you might understand my interest there. I’m sorry I broke our Athletic Rules of Conduct and lied to my parents about the drinking stuff, and I should have fessed up about Mom’s car, although the damage was fully covered by insurance. Most of all, I regret the immature, inappropriate way I thought of the girls at my high school, although some of them were pretty hot… oops, I didn’t mean that. I take that part back. Hot or not, I should have looked at them as real people and not just as… well, you know. I’m sorry.”

Clumsy as it was, his confession brought Frankie some comfort as he weighed his chances of arriving at heaven’s gates. At worst, high school, supplemented by his 11^th hour confession, was a draw.

“Are you hungry, Frankie? I’ve got your dinner tray.”

In the midst of the most impactful debate he ever had with himself, food was far from Frankie’s mind.

“No thanks, Doris. I’m ok.”

“I’ll leave the tray, Frankie. You might want something later.”

“Later” was becoming less of a likelihood for Frankie. There weren’t many “laters” left for Frankie so he quickly got back to the task at hand.

Satan seemed to be everywhere on Frankie’s college campus.

“Frankie, midterms are three days from now. Come on, there’s a house party on State Street.”

“Just pop a couple of Adderall and pull an all-nighter. That’s how you do it.”

“Every guy in the House has nailed Easy Ellen. Just give her a call. You’ll see.”

On the plus side, Frankie graduated in four years with a B- average. He worked part-time at the Student Union, played intramural touch football and basketball, remembered every family birthday, was elected Social Chairman of his Fraternity, and made many friends for life. He was particularly pleased with the fact that many of his good friends were girls. He was proud of the progress he had made. On the flip side…

1)      He became addicted to Adderall and lied to his parents about the reasons he always needed more money.

2)      As Social Chairman, he brought back the tradition of the Toga Party, a mindless, depraved Bacchanalia-style gathering of drunken partygoers.

3)      He called Easy Ellen… more than once.

4)      He told his parents he needed money to fly to Las Vegas for a good friend’s mom’s funeral when the real purpose was to party his brains out.

Frankie had an uneasy feeling about this. He went right to work before he took his last breath.

“Dear God, it’s me again, Frankie. Sorry to bother you again, but there are a few more things I want to clear up before it’s my time. First off, the Adderall thing. What can I say? I got hooked. I’m sorry I lied to my parents about what the money was for. Same with the Vegas trip, although I did hit it big at the blackjack table. And I guess the Toga Prties were a little over the top. I feel like was an instrument of the devil for all the bad things that happened there. I’m sorry. And the deal with Easy Ellen, yeah that was bad. I know that loveless sex is a sin, so I am really sorry. I know I shouldn’t have kept her phone number in my wallet. Amen.”

Frankie felt pretty good about it. He sounded sincere, and he thought the “Amen” gave it a nice respectful tone. But he was worried. He feared loveless sex might have taken him into the forbidden zone of mortal sin. The physical pain he was feeling was overwhelmed by mental anguish.

“Dear God, it’s me again, Frankie. I’m sorry to bother you again, but I just want you to know that I am really, really sorry about the Easy Ellen stuff. That was bad. To be honest, the sex wasn’t that good. But I’m really sorry and I ask for your forgiveness.”

Frankie was still a little nervous about the whole thing, but he felt the added supplication improved his position. He was putting his faith in an all-forgiving God.

“Pain meds time, Frankie.”

About freaking time.

“Thank you, Doris.”

Sixty-three is a little on the young side for death nowadays, but cancer respects neither clock nor calendar. Still, his adult working years comprised the bulk of his existence. Frankie could only hope he had done enough.

Single his entire life, Frankie’s life was his work (accountant), his home and yard, fishing, and his nieces and nephews. Knowing the ins and outs of everything the IRS could throw at a taxpayer, he did a good job for his clients and made a nice living. He got along well with his co-workers, especially the cute redhead two cubicles over, and never missed a day of work. He was a great uncle and took the kids to a variety of fun activities. Being single his entire life eliminated one of the major categories of sin that befall many of the weak- adultery. It all seemed like a fairly uneventful, bland existence, but nonetheless, as Frankie reviewed his life in summary, there were a few bumps along the way.

1)      With his vast knowledge of the Tax Code, Frankie was able to cheat on his own taxes.

2)      The cute redhead two cubicles over became the Easy Ellen of the workforce.

3)      When he took his young nieces and nephews to the park or to a beach, he portrayed himself as a single dad in need of help and used the children as a chick magnet.

4)      Frankie took a couple of walleyes out of season.

5)      He never went to church, never did any volunteer work for any organization, and never contributed to any charitable organization.

The loveless sex bothered him, but it was the blank page of good works that he found most troubling. One can always make that deathbed confession for sins of the past, but there’s not a lot that can be done to make up for a lifetime of disregard for your fellow man. “I should have done more with my life” is a familiar refrain as life comes to an end, but unfortunately not one with a remedy. Frankie was growing weak. He needed to keep it short.

“Dear God, I’m sorry for all my sins. At times I gave in to temptation, and I’m sorry for that. For all the things I didn’t do in life… I… I really have nothing to say. I’m sorry.”

Frankie never got an answer as to his final destination. No one ever does. Doris pulled the sheet up over Frankie’s face and removed the untouched dinner tray. Three days later it was Frankie’s two brothers and four of his friends who carried his casket to the front of St. Patrick’s church, right back to the exact spot where he had been baptized so many years before.