By Rajmund Dabrowski

Making a pledge is an obvious step to take. We do this before January 1 each year, or on a birthday. We do this looking into a mirror, limiting our gaze only to our face. We then create a list of promises to work on, and the usual journey takes us downhill. As they say, promises are easily broken.

Admittedly, my promises are created to transform into feelings of guilt when the good intentions falter. My guilt, and not the fulfillment of promises, has an easier start and finish in my daily life. One day, a week, or a month quickly turns into another, and so on, with promises cast aside.

An experience from a few years ago comes to mind.

We had a good friend who lived in Sedona, Arizona. Mary Schnack passed away a few years ago, but apart from professional interests and collaborations, what remains in Grazyna’s and my memories are many a moment we spent trekking the red-rock trails of “God’s country” as Mary called it.

She lived just under the Coffee Pot Rock landmark, and a short distance from St. John Vianney Church. By chance, I observed an after-Christmas service there once.

What’s vivid in my memory is the sound of a nearly empty church, its silence broken by the hard-hitting steps of a minister walking from the back of the church nave. The sound meant he knew his destination.

My eyes were drawn to the space associated with the language of the steps, revealing well-worn cowboy boots with a hint of jeans showing slightly below his vestments.

It was not so much what I saw, but what this short, bearded man in his forties shared in his equally short homily that made a difference. Later, I learned that many Sedonians referred to him as J.C., and his presence was felt outside the walls of his church. He was something of a fixture in the local lore.

A memory of what I heard that morning jumped at me on that chilly morning. J.C. told a story about a good-for- nothing seminary mate of his who phoned him wondering if J.C. lives by what he preaches. All of a sudden I was confronted by a lot of stuff the preacher told the congregation. “What pillow do you have under your head? It’s soft, isn’t it? And what’s your duvet like? Warm, right?”

Whatever was said next, it was set against the importance of being rather than having, all seasoned with personal honesty. My nagging thought that morning was this: Make yourself useful in the lives of those who will cross your path today. That’s what Jesus will help you with.

An invitation ended that short reflection by J.C. “Look outside. The sun is shining brightly. Like the sun, I wish the love of Jesus Christ goes with you. Go, and be love to others. Live love,” he said.

This memory lingers on with a daily challenge: Instead of waiting for someone else to be love I am inviting myself to make the world better by getting out of my shell in order to become more responsive to the disenfranchised and the needy.

That’s the challenge I am throwing at myself again.

And if a wish is in order, may your authentic life be spiced with love. May it be infectious through the love of Jesus. Daily.

–Rajmund Dabrowski is RMC communication director and editor of Mountain Views. Email him at [email protected].