Family, Uncategorized

My ALMOST 64th Birthday Gift……….

As people who are familiar with this site will tell you, I really have never written it with anyintention other than to just be a vehicle to clear my own mind.  Perhaps at the start, right before my stroke in 2008 and with the emergence of blogs, I may have had different intentions.  It was at a tumultuous point in the life of Anglicanism, and as a conservative American priest, that point of almost 20 years, I felt like I might have something of value to say.  Of course, value is relative.  Bloggers and now “vloggers” are a “dime a dozen,” and that description indicates itself what era from which I come.  But post stroke, and after a hell of a lot of rehab I discovered that when I wrote, my thoughts began to become clearer.

Let’s not however, put the cart before the horse.  My wife Amanda used to proofread for me, and she would be honest to confess that what I started writing was incomprehensible.  It did progress, and often quite comically, into almost verbatim repeated paragraphs within the evidence of healing thoughts gravitating to more cohesive and organized themes.  But it was a long and arduous process, and one I would be foolish to not remember.

Why? Well because the path to recovery is rarely linear. In fact it varies wildly.  Some days I am super sharp, avoiding the phrase “as sharp as a tack,” as half of the current population has no idea of what a tack is.  Other days, I feel as if I am alone and vulnerable in my own mind.  I question if I am thinking right, and it creates a lot of confusion for me.

On Thursday the 19th, I turned 64.  I was traveling for work, in Pennsylvania, and it was really no big deal.  What was harder was heading to PA on the 18th (my paternal grandma’s birthday) and even as the weather was awful driving, at home all hell was breaking loose.  Amanda was in Indianapolis at a work conference and Ben was on his way to a doctor’s appointment just north of Indy.  As I was listening to Indianapolis radio, the Indiana skies went dark, severe storms moved in and many were tornadic, and I was nowhere that I could help.

It is often difficult to navigate the confusion and feelings in times like these.  Amanda’s conference was evacuated to a safe area, but Ben was stopped in traffic and in the path of the worst part of the storm.  He will be 18 in 9 days, and with all the faith I had I told him I trusted and believed in him, that he should get off the phone with me and listen to the station I was, and make the best decisions he could.  And that is where we left it.

I am finally home tonight after leaving PA on Friday to head to Illinois for a funeral today and a pastoral visit in Peoria before heading home.  Ben was able to get off the highway and into a hotel lobby to ride out the storm.  I am proud of him.  He is an amazing young man.  Amanda was of course safe and came home after the all-clear.

Ironically, the brunt of our experience came at home.  We live in a very small town called Edgewood.  And on the 18th, our home was the worst in our town.  We lost a 100 year old tree in our front yard next to the bridge on our driveway, and oddly enough, underneath all that mess is another large tree that was taken out by the loss of the tree by the bridge. All of it needs to come out, and I just saw it for the first time a couple of hours ago.  It will be close to $3000 to clear it up, and that will happen next week.

From my office on the second floor of the house looking over the front yard, both of those old trees painted my view.  It was always a Rembrandt.  Now it is different.  After the cleanup and removal of the rest of the trees, God knows what it will be.

My being here would have done nothing to change my current or soon to be new view.  But I can look at it with a sense of thanksgiving.  My life on the 18th was a total mess.  I cannot remember a harder choice than to tell my 17-year-old son to get off the phone, listen to the reports as they were happening, that I loved him, and that I trusted him to make good decisions because I knew he could.

$3000 to cut up wood and remove terrible storm damage from our yard is great blessing considering the fears I was having on Wednesday afternoon.  I will not pretend that they were anywhere near as intense as Ben or Amanda felt, in fact, I cannot imagine.  But today I am thankful.  My yard is a mess and that wonderful view of my yard will never be the same in my lifetime by any means.

But trees and my view are something I can deal with.  When I talked to Ben and he was safe in a hotel lobby in Carmel, Indiana and was worried about his car in the middle of the storm, I was so blessed and thankful.

I am home, and as you can see, we need a bit of tree service.  But we are all alive and safe.  And God is good, even when I am scared out of my mind.  Everyone is safe, and although we will be quite a bit poorer by the end of next week, one of the largest goals i had was accomplished ON my birthday which was the 19th.  I was able to see my brother Archbishop Steve Wood who I went to seminary with some 4 million years ago.

Let me say without hesitation, the Church is in not just good but great hands.  And I, as a priest for many (okay more than many years) am blessed by this.

Blessings to you all!

Tom+ 

Family

Another Amazing Milestone……

Forgive me Father, for it has been over a year since my last post…..

Ben and Grandpa Tirman the Greater

So let me start with this……high school graduation has taken place for our youngest, Ben, who will now follow a long tradition of becoming a Butler Bulldog in the upcoming school year!  I had to include a picture as embarrassing as it was for me, not because I am embarrassed by Ben (I could not be prouder) but in seeing

Scotty, Steph, and Ben

the picture it certainly does not seem as if I personally could be that old, or that fat (but of course not that short because I am on my knees in the picture) but here we are. And that is  his MOM, my wife Amanda on the right of the top picture, not some youngster.  So let’s not just celebrate Ben’s graduation, but also his mom’s poor choices!

Anyway, Ben has spent the last three years at the Indiana Academy for Science, Mathematics, and Humanities which is the top public high school in Indiana.  Luckily it was not around when I was in high school as it would have provided me the opportunity to be rejected from it, as it is a school for super-smart kids.

But Ben is no longer a “kid.”  He will turn 18 in just a few weeks, drives, talks in a deeper voice than I do by far, and still comes to me, like all our kids do, begging me for advice (please do not ask them if this is true, they will lie.)

Grandma Tirman (the Lessor) with our grandsons

But in all seriousness, Ben has been by far our most independent child of all.  His being home for the summer is likely hard on him because he has been living like an adult since he was 15.  I am sure I would tell you I could have done all that too when I was younger, but I likely would have been in trouble in some way, shape or form.  Ben however has come out of high school relatively unscathed and life is looking good for him.

Of course he has had to deal with my wife Amanda who has been a “helicopter mom” throughout.   And when I say “helicopter” I am not meaning some “news copter,” but some sort of gun/missile-equipped Apache military copter that has “guided” him along his path.  He will no longer need that guidance any longer now that he will be of marriageable age.  There will be plenty of girls, I am sure, willing to keep him in line (as he is almost as tall as me.)

And before I needed to worry about my other kids commenting to as they say “correct the record” on my height, let me come out with it right here that I looked up how to turn off the comments section of this site.  I turn 64 in 6 days, and I am still a step ahead of them!

But anyway, congratulations Ben!  You are exceptionally smart in a family of exceptionally smart people.  That says a lot.  I love you and I am proud of you, and I am sure you will achieve your dreams….except that one to be taller than me.  I will still love you all the same.

Blessings!

Tom+

Family

Happy Birthday Dad

Well today, if my dad were still alive, we would be at some restaurant celebrating his 88th birthday.  He was born on June 3, 1936.  The last restaurant I was with him however was the Panera at Hamilton Town Center just after his chemotherapy appointment we picked him up from.  He died from the cancer about a week later.

Many people might be surprised to learn that I do not have much of a memory of my dad growing up.  My parents divorced when I was probably about 9, and in that day and age you got to see your dad only occasionally.  So most of my memories are from college on, as I came down to Butler in 1981 supposedly for school, but mainly to get to know him.

I will confess that it would have been tons easier for the both of us if we had not been so much alike.  People tend to think both he and I were either wonderful or hot-headed.  He was from Brooklyn, NY and when he would get mad you knew right where he was from.  I on the other hand was from Mishawaka, IN and have only ever visited Brooklyn a few times.  To this day I will never understand why when I get going on a rant I have a clearly distinguishable Brooklyn accent.  Go figure.

But my decision to come to Indianapolis to finish college (not all of my education, just college) was a good decision in a life up to that point that had a not so good record in the decisions department.  It was the beginning of action in changing my life, and although many times my dad and I struggled to understand each other and get along, it provided me with a solid 38 years to learn how to be a son.  I want to confess that I am a far better man because of it.

Why are Mike and my dad taller than me?

Many of the stories and adventures I could never tell here, but when he left this life in April of 2019, I lost a big piece of me.  Maybe I can write about his ridiculous quest he sent Mike, Anna, and I on to spread small urns of his ashes (in the Gulf of Mexico at Hudson Beach in New Port Richey FL where his mom was interred, in Liverpool where his closest friends are, and on Long Island on his his father’s grave).  We JUST finished this about a couple of months ago).  Most of his ashes are in the columbarium at Trinity Episcopal Church in Indianapolis.

I do not know why, but I had not been there since his funeral.  It was something however I did do a couple of weeks ago before a doctor’s appointment for my right elbow which I managed to shatter during Holy Week.  That’s a story for another time.

But although his name is up there, I know he is not really there.  It is just a place to go.  I am pretty sure I will be there again too, at least someday.

But today as I reflect upon him, I know he lives on in me.  I may not get to the columbarium often, but he is still on my phone on speed dial and I have never been able to erase it.  I still have the Brooklyn accent when I get mad.  I still have the Rich Tirman sense of humor, and I still wish he were alive to tell him how  thankful I am to be his son.

I still remember moving to Indianapolis and for years people asking me if I was related to Rich Tirman.  I learned to ask before I answered if they liked him or not.  Then regardless, I would tell them the truth.  My dad and I often laughed at that.  At the end of his life, I was able to take part in getting him places and sometimes even wanting just to leave him in those places when he was difficult.  In fact, a couple of years before he died he got mad at me (Brooklyn mad) for getting lost after I had driven him to my Uncle Mickey and Aunt Judy’s way out on Long Island.  It was maybe 1 in the morning.  I finally pulled up, got his stuff out of my vehicle, hugged my Uncle Mickey and Aunt Judy, and told my dad to take a plane home! Yep, I left!  It is a legendary Rich and Tom Tirman story that we all still laugh about!  And within a week of him coming home, we were again fine.

Anyway, Happy Birthday dad, and thanks for the memories.  Two of our sisters, Stephanie and Sarah, should have been there to greet you.  We all know you missed them both terribly.  So I pray that that have given you all much joy.  And I will likely see you soon, or at least sooner than Mike and Anna!  You are both loved and missed.

https://www.indystar.com/obituaries/ins091988

Love,

Tommy+

Family

Thoughts Concerning My Wonderful Family…………..

I do not sign onto FaceBook often, in fact I have considered removing my profile from it. I started using it at the beginning to stalk my kids, but they soon migrated to other sites that I just do not understand. I also try to keep up with the happenings of classmates from high school and college, but I have been shocked to discover that they are now all old people, and I am not quite sure how that happened.

I have been working as an Interim Rector since the end of May at St. Michael and All Angels in Peoria. It has been a lot of travel and a lot of time, even for a young guy like me. I happen to be at home today, and ironically Amanda is at a conference until Thursday night. This puts her dad and I in charge while she is gone, and I am certain that does not worry her at all. I doubt she even remembers how last time she was gone (two weeks ago) we double-dose and double-fed the dogs by accident, and fortunately the dogs told no one.

Although time did fly, we did get to see the kids and grandkids over the summer. We went to Texas in early August when it was approximately 200 degrees outside and we spent a lot of time outside too! But it was fun to see Scotty and Kenzie and our two grandsons.

And then, Steph and Izzy were just here, stopping by on the way to and from a wedding in Izzy’s family in

Izzy, Steph, and an always smiling Ben

Pennsylvania. It was a short visit but one for which I was thankful. It was not 200 degrees as this was at our home in Indiana.

Ben was home for a lot of the summer, although we did not see as much of him as we would have liked as we suspect he may be a vampire due to his interesting sleep schedules. He moved into the dorm at the Indiana Academy at Ball State in mid-August, and as I understand it, they only have classes in the light. So perhaps he has changed his sleep schedule.

But I miss all our kids terribly. I know that when I was their age my first thought, or really any thought, would likely not have been about spending time with my parents. But now that my mom and dad are gone (they both died, they are not lost) I wish I could have done better.

But despite all this, I am proud of all of our kids.

I love them and wish I had more time to see them.

Tommy+

Uncategorized

It’s just how I roll………….poorly……….

The above picture contains, not just my wife Amanda, but also an anniversary gift she so thoughtfully made for me although I do not remember when.  I am gonna go out on a limb here and say, “on one of our anniversaries.”  The gift is a custom planter.  And it was as they say in horticultural circles, “Tom Proof,” meaning it contained plants I could not kill.  And it is on display at my professional office downtown.

The planter  originally contained 5 (five!) carefully chosen succulents, which in my experience at least, I have discovered I am very proficient at killing.  These “you cannot kill these” plants I secretly  replaced 3 different times.  It was difficult because I was always trying to remember what the originals looked like, but they are harder to identify after they have crossed that “photosynthesis bridge.”   So I finally brought it home and made my confession.

The result, which was months ago was three cacti (yes correctly plural as I looked it up).  One on the left, another in the center, and one on the right of the same planter.  Two more hearty succulents took positions two and four, between the three cacti which I have now chosen to call a “prickle,” which is the proper terminology for a group of porcupines.   The picture above contains my last two victims, which Amanda is smiling and posing with, as she helped me fix this and came to my office to deliver it, as well as to deliver a personal inservice on the care for plants you cannot kill.

So as in the case of a very simple novel, perhaps a mystery, as you have likely predicted, the succulents did not survive.  So the perpetrator of these plants demise  was not Professor Plum, with the candlestick, in the library, but rather me, in my office, with better intentions.

My next to last solution.

So I am sharing, or better yet confessing, that I have covered up my crime, with my “next to last solution.”  Any detective worth their weight would also be able to discern that the see that the current solution is now a prickle of five, which as prickles go seems pretty impressive.  And although I am no Acanthochronologist, (yes this a verified title), I am pretty certain you still should not trust me.

Anyway, I am obviously just rambling about things I no nothing about, like keeping plants alive.  I just felt like posting.  I will share that I am conflicted about all of this as I feel I have to mow every 15 minutes, but as I have read, lawn growth as it relates to the exhaustion of a homeowner has no correlation to keeping houseplants alive.  Once again, I find myself far my area of expertise.

So this is all for now.  In conclusion, I can state with complete confidence that the grass is my yard will continue to grow without my intentional care, and that my many cactusesuses (or something similar) will digress towards “cactus heaven” (which is where I imagine the Chicago Cubs through the majority of my life).

But for now I will just focus upon what is before me, which at this point has nothing to do with these more famous succulents.  (Yes, I am good at killing the “lesser” succulents, but not as successful in killing the “famous” ones.).

In the end however, I just want to have my anniversary gift display plants that “look” alive.  So yes, you are quite right, if this fails, I am heading to plastic.

At this point, I am not sure that anyone has been able to jack up a plastic display, but if it is possible, I am surely their man.  Keep checking back……you have to be good at something, and maybe I have found my niche.

Blessings to you all !!!!!

Tommy+

Family

The End of a Season Updates

Well it seems like the last time I wrote anything I was about 3 decades younger, a high-energy “sharp as a tack” priest, and  about 100 pounds lighter.  But in fact, it has only been a little less than two years since my last post on here.

So as a commitment to full disclosure, here are some discoveries I have made: 1) I am clearly still capable of writing; 2) I am close to two years older than I was in that last post; 3) I am still an active priest, however believing I have high energy and am “as sharp as a tack” could really just be my own delusions, (my wife still keeps me around though); 4) I am still working to lose weight,  but I still feel like the before model in a weight loss ad, and; 5) I am terribly disappointed that the St. Louis Blues did not make the playoffs this year even if it is completely irrelevant to my last post.  (How is that for an amazing run-on sentence??)

So as I have done before, I thought I would re-up my commitment to writing now that hockey season is over for me and include the wonderful  picture of Steph, Izzy, and me at a Blues game from a few weeks ago on March 28th.  As a priest (I had mentioned that) that morning I had been at our annual Chrism Mass for the Diocese of Quincy at the Cathedral, so it was wonderful able to take part in both!

One of the challenges, or hard parts of raising kids, is that they grow up and move away.  That, I know, is hard on a lot of parents.  For me, it is particularly hard, and one of the reasons that I will make myself available to see them at any opportunity,   I love my kids and I know they love me, which incidentally is not a delusion.  In fact, I grew up a Montreal Canadiens fan.  I even have an autographed picture proudly displayed downstairs of my hockey idol Guy Lafleur – “the flower” or better yet known as “le demon blond” (only to those trying to defend against him).  But because Stephanie went to college in St. Charles, and then got her doctorate in St. Louis, I, of my own freewill, abandoned the Habs for the Blues.  You see, she became a Blues fan, and that changed everything for me.  I switched my allegiance so we would have something else to do together, and it has been a blast.   At this March 28th game our tickets were just behind the Blues bench to the right.  Steph and Izzy however had a friend who invited us up to a suite. right next to the Blues broadcast booth.  We had such a great time!

And although it is hard for me to believe, today Scotty (the oldest boy but middle child who lives in Houston) happens to be in

Scotty and Ben at dinner

Indianapolis.  And at some point Ben (our youngest) will wake up (it is only 1pm here and Ben is almost 16 – so we have plenty of time) and he, Amanda, and I will head down to see Scotty and go to dinner.  It is certainly wonderful timing and another awesome opportunity to be hanging with our kids.  All three of them are my greatest accomplishment of life, and I love them very much. I am proud of who they are and all they have done.

Boys after Maury tells them I am their father

But my part in all their lives has not been that hard.  I was reflecting on all of this yesterday as I often  do on April 14th, which this year was the 15th anniversary of my stroke.  Of course the stroke was why I started writing this blog in its current form in the first place, it was self-discovered therapy for myself.  But the writing has led to a lot of things too.  It changed my life, and it changed it in a good way.  And when I started to write today, I wondered why I ever stopped.  No promises here, but I do know I am better when I write and write often.

But it makes me laugh to think about it.  When I first made a blog site, or whatever kids call them these days, I intended to write about my vocation and the changes the Church and society were enduring.  I figured my brilliant theological mind (one of my delusions) was going to get out there and say something important.  But it just didn’t turn out to be God’s plan.  My stroke impaired so very much, and honesty much of that included things into which I had invested so much (like my education).  I had trouble thinking, so I wrote to clear my jumbled thoughts and to survive.  And I just wrote what came out.  Oddly enough, it never was too theological or even brilliant for all that matters.

But I believe that God moves in my life in ways that matter.  Ice hockey was always part of my life.  When I was a kid I wanted to be Guy Lafleur and play in the NHL, but I ended up in seminary instead.  (A real surprise to anyone who knew me as a kid).  So I never made it to the pros, but I confess that if at the March 28th game someone from the Blues would have come up to me and asked me to lace up, I would have, and I also could absolutely guarantee that we still would not have made the playoffs.

What I have learned is that there are seasons for everything.  I can relive them in my mind, like believing I was Guy Lafleur at 10 years old.  It’s fun, but if at almost 62 if I were to now lace up and get out there, someone is likely going to the hospital, and that someone l would only THINK they were le demon blond.

But this new season is emerging with family, joy, hope, retirement, new challenges, lots of cool things God has yet to reveal.

Maybe I will just lace up for that, and enjoy it all as it comes to me!

Blessings to you all!

Tommy+

PS…yes I did not post before we went to Indy so I was able to add the boys to the post.

 

 

Uncategorized

Reflections from the top of the Tirman food chain……….

Well, I guess I should not be surprised that life changes.  I mean it has changed all along and pretty consistently too.  But this past weekend provided a little more change than I cared to experience, and it did so all at once.

First off, on Saturday I turned 60 years old.  In truth, I did not look or feel much different than I did on Friday, but I did find myself being a tad bit more reflective.  I truly appreciated all the birthday wishes, but I sensed that I had crossed the line into people’s (everyone on earth) perception of “old-hood.” Maybe it was just my perception, but a lot happens generally in your sixties.  Retirement and going onto Medicare are just a couple of those things, as well as developing the ability to mozy.

Secondly, Sunday was Father’s Day.  Scotty’s birthday was on the 16th, and he is now getting used to, like I have, having his birthday and Father’s Day falling so close together.  It always turns out to be too much food and cake.  I like hearing from everyone, but as a now 60-year-old trophy husband, I really get uncomfortable with gifts.  I already own my own cane, and we also have a wheelchair, so I am pretty well set for the necessities.

But my thoughts on Sunday really did not center on me, instead they went back to my father.  He has been gone now for a little over two years, and as I always hear from my kids on Father’s Day, I have had tremendously conflicted feelings as I want to call him.  So this is what is missing, and although it is slightly irrational, I just want to be able to call him.  I mean I could try, because I have never taken his number or contact information off of my phone.  I just don’t because it is nice to see him come up when I hit “my favorites.”

And, to make matters even stranger, his birthday was June 3rd, and our family has A LOT of June birthdays.  I always reminded him of birthdays, (okay I pre-warned him as he would often forget) so June was a particularly busy month to be talking to him or seeing him.  I did tell him Happy Birthday and Happy Father’s Day, but I no longer remind him of birthdays…..I figure he is now responsible for remembering those himself!

So back to me.  Like so many others getting older, sooner you get to the top of the food chain, and here I am.  I am on top “age-wise” in terms of my dad’s living children, and clearly also on top in personality, IQ, and good looks (this is through my entire family as I discovered this through my own research) and of course I am clearly on top in humbleness.

But despite all these amazing attributes, time still flies. I miss you dad, and lucky for the world, your twisted Tirman humor lives on through Anna, Mike, and myself.  We still talk about you often, and remember you each day.  And each one of us knows we were your favorite.

Thanks for being you dad.  We miss you and love you. And we will see you soon…….as I am now 60, you can plan on seeing me much sooner.

Tommy+

Uncategorized

Time to start writing again…..


For those of you who have read this blog over the course of the past 12 years, you are aware of my staunch belief that I write it really only for myself.  It began as therapy following my stoke in 2008 because I could not write or think coherently and if I did it would be two identical sentences or paragraphs that perhaps you could see, but I could not.  And my posts were an almost daily thing for many years until I thought I was better.  I re-entered grad school for two additional degrees which sort of took the blog’s place.  All of however, in all honestly it helped me not just retrain, develop, and heal my brain, but it helped me grow,  There were no great theological insights beaming from these writings, although had I been concerned about a potential following the blog that would perhaps might have those expectations. None of that happened, and here I am again.

I have clearly been on a long hiatus  from posting, but sadly, much in my life has changed,  I am not challenged by the everyday intellectual stimulation that would lead me to those words of inspiration convincing us al that I was always in school on some sort of athletic scholarship and not academic.  This is not to say that I am not well-read (My apologies to Thema Martin, my high school English teacher for the double negative) be cause I am indeed fairly intelligent.

I have my issues.  I struggle currently with the state of our country.  Yes, read back 5 minutes and you will discover I am a conservative, nit a republican although I tend to vote that way, but I am really a Constitutionalist.  I respect you for your beliefs, and I would like you to respect em for mine. I did not break into the Capitol and I am pretty sure you did not loot and riot in the cities all over the nation.  Do I hate you? ……….no!  Do you hate me?…….Lord I hope not.  I just wish we could talk and do it civilly and cordially, rather than threatening each other across divides.

As most of you probably know I have been in recovery for well over 7 years.  And staying in it, as well as helping others to do the same is our primary purpose.  I could care less if you hated priests and wanted to revoke all out gym memberships till the end of time, I would still want to work with you to help you stay sober.  Principles before personalities you know.  And if you want that, I am all in to help you.

Things are not as important as we are to each other.  I would not be where I am without the people in my life. Very few of them agree with me religiously or politically, yet not one of them feels the need to draw a line in the sand with me.  Love wins when it I offered free ly and received freely.

Tonight and over the past few days I have struggled.  It is unfortunate.  I am contemplating some life-changing moves.  I do not know that they are all necessary.  But what I do know is that I have to take in mind my recovery and sobriety first.  For without it, I am not worth a thing to anyone else.

Blessings to you all……

Tommy+

Fr. Tom Tirman OSM

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Lost in time……….

Like many people, I struggle remembering what day it is, let alone what time.   I would like to blame it on all the changes Covid-19 has brought, but really even without the excuses I do poorly with my memory.

Case in point, my family met on Saturday to inter  my dad in a niche at Trinity Episcopal Church on N. Meridian in Indianapolis.  It was the one year anniversary of his death, and I really didn’t even have a clue.  I knew it was around the time, but I was there to support my family.  And support them I did.

 You see, we were there and we were together, and ultimately we were all doing something for us.  My dad wanted his ashes spread in three places, in the Gulf of Mexico where his mom, my grandma’s ashes were spread, on his father’s, my grandfather’s grave in New York, and then somewhere in Liverpool, but he was not specific.

I suppose you could say that my dad did not want to be in a graveyard or columbarium like he is now.  I think you should understand that this is what he implied quite a few times.  But he had heard from me many times how ridiculous I felt going out to Hudson beach with people in bikinis and swim shorts having a blast while I was there remembering my grandma.  She used to take me to that beach as a kid, so it is the only place on the Gulf that has meaning to me.  I was not taken to her funeral, so it really left things unresolved for me. I am now just resolved to look ridiculous.

Before you think I am complaining, please know I am not.  We intend to spread his ashes in the manner he requested.  In usual Rich Tirman style however, he gave us our instructions, but he did not give us a plan to carry it out.  We all live here in Indiana, and now WE have three big trips to plan.   There is no doubt we will get that done.

But what we now have is a place to go, and it is a place familiar to us all.  It is a place in which we all have decades of experience praying ,  and it was the church in which his funeral was held.  Mike and Anna also went to school there and our dad also taught there after one of his many retirements!

I was taught to visit graves by my grandfather on my mom’s side.  He said to come to the grave, and remember the good things, remember who they were to you in life.

I am a big fan.  I am on record as saying there needed to be a place even before he died, and in all honesty, we all wanted a place to go.  We have that now, and it is beautiful.

I am certain I will forget the dates, just like I always do.  I will leave that to Debby, or Anna, or Mike, you know, someone with a working memory.  But I will stop by, likely often, to just sit, remember, meditate, and pray.

If I wear my clericals there I would not be out of place, but since it is my dad, just in case, I will have my swimsuit in the truck.

Blessings to you my friends!

Tommy+

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An incredible year……

First of all, let me inform or remind anyone reading this other than me, that I write on this blog without the expectation of anyone else reading it.  I have found it to be the best therapy I could possibly find for myself.  I still believe that to be true.

So I started writing shortly after my stroke, which I was told was probably my second one, some 11 years ago.  I was pretty backwards at the time, and I found that writing helped me.  Yes, as I am an Anglican priest and 11 years ago was probably one for about 20 years at that point (now 30), this blog barely re-dates the stroke, and at the time I thought that I could blog in a public manner with my brilliant theological mind!  Both my hopes and my mind exited right around the same time.  So I only blogged when I was having trouble, which if you go back you can see I had trouble for over five straight years.

There has also been a hiatus.  I decided to go back to school and get a couple of extra degrees to add to my obsessive needs to over achieve.  I “retired” from parish work in 2013 shortly after I sent myself to an addiction rehabilitation center in California where I stayed for 30 days.  I have remained clean and sober for over 6 years now, but seem to be also clean and sober of parish ministry as well.  It is funny how valuable you are until you disclose a personal issue that those in ministry above you discern as a moral or character problem.  I will not deny I had a pretty serious problem, but in all honesty, no one even knew about it until I disclosed it.  I certainly did not have to.  But the problem was interfering in my life and healing in an issue totally unrelated to my addiction.  I sent myself away, not only to treat the addiction from getting worse, because it ALWAYS does, but to better be able to deal with what I needed to in my personal life, and with a clear head.

It amazes me, as when I stopped writing this blog and went back to get a couple degrees to become and addictions therapist and a mental health therapist, at how hostile the recovery community is to “organized religion.”  And I want to let you know that I totally get that.  As long as there are people in positions of authority throwing stones in the name of morality (even though I personally know most should not….and for good reason), there will always be this chasm.  Am I a drunkard or an addict?  Yes, I suppose by a lot of standards, but the judgement leaves out a lot of things, especially restoration and redemption.

I left the Diocese of the Great Lakes six years ago and transferred into the Diocese of Quincy.  I handed over the entire ministry I had help build and remained the head of the small Holy Order that built them.  I have kept the vows of my priesthood, and have kept the vows I made in that Order every single day.  A few years ago, we changed the Constitutions of the Order to accommodate each brother’s own ministry, rather than to focus on the idea of planting new congregations, which was all but given up.  Granted, we planted a lot of new works, and many still are doing good work.  But the focus left the OSM and planting.  The churches now are regular churches.

So the Order has been in a long season of furrow, which I hope to see change soon.  I still pray for all of us each day and for our ministries.  I know who we were changed and that in that change, God did not bless us at all.  We freely gave what we were freely given, but when we lost that, a lot changed.  The idea that we were not all church planters was significant.  You cannot put a square plug in a round hole.  And you can also not support a growing ministry expecting people to do so.  But per the agreement 6 years ago with the Diocese of the Great Lakes, the OSM remains ready to re-emerge from that furrow.

During this time of furrow, my life and ministry has changed drastically.  I stopped writing because I went back to school and now also work as a mental health and addictions therapist.  As I also have done extensive work in the world of revitalization, conflict, and change (my doctoral work was in this), I feel I a very well suited to help both congregations and clergy work through hard issues.   I hope to start a new parish here in central Indiana soon, and with God’s help we will, but for now it is enough to help those I can in private practice and in life.

Changing subjects, the picture at the top of the blog is of my dad, who we lost this year.  And when I say we lost him, I mean that he died, not that we misplaced him as so many may think knowing us.  He looks happy in the picture, which he is, and although I am not in the picture, so was I.  He was happy because he was heading to Noodles and Company, and I was happy because Ben, who was then 11, was pushing his chair uphill and I was not.

Quite interestingly, we held his funeral in the Episcopal Church of which I was a member for my entire life and a priest serving 18 of my 30 years.  Unlike many of my peers in the Episcopal Church, I was a conservative (meaning evil).   I retired from my ministry as an Episcopal priest on December 31, 2006.  I transferred to the Anglican Diocese of Bolivia at the point of my retirement.  So I never left the priesthood.  I also did not take a parish out, nor entered into any lawsuits, nor any of the other nonsense.  Yet later in that year the Bishop of the Diocese of Indianapolis (not the current one) held a trial for a priest that was not hers.  She “defrocked” me for abandoning the faith.  I would assert that she had it quite backwards, and she wasted a lot of time and breath.  It was funny that I never ever have stopped being a priest since I was ordained, nor have I ever worked to coerce or convince a soul from leaving the church I grew up in.  I never have nor ever will.  But I do wish to thank the Rector of Trinity Episcopal Church in Indianapolis, where my dad and family were members, for her compassion, generosity, and care for us all.

You can probably see how I might connect the treatment I have had with the church, as many struggling in recovery do, considering my experiences.  In fact I do see and feel it very strongly, but in truth I can also share my experience of how it is when it works.

The Church I know, and the one to which I belong, is always with me.  It was present to me when I was growing up, quite often in just the conversations I would have with an occasional monk or nun I would run into anywhere in the South Bend area.  I ALWAYS would say hi, and not only did they always acknowledge me, but if I went up to talk with one, they would always just talk to me.  My family, at least in my memory, was never nuclear. My experience of that which I associated with God however, was always hospitable to me.

Ironically, my Bishop is a Benedictine monk.  In fact, much of the Diocese is touched by the Benedictine way of life.  In the Diocese of Quincy we are “rooted, missional, and compassionate.” Life in Christ does not need to be complex.  It often involves just doing that next right thing.  I sometimes have worried about where I am heading, but in retrospect, God puts me in the places He wants me to be.

Back to my family to end this today.  At the beginning of the year, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and needed a lot of care, treatment, and transportation.  We all stepped in.  My relationship with my dad has not been the greatest over my life, and in fact as grouchy as he was sometimes during his treatment, I could have pushed him off a cliff in that wheel chair.  I am certain we all could have.  But we all came together and did what we were supposed to to support and care for him at the end of his earthly life.  We were all there together in the hospice center to give him the Last Rites.  I used a 1979 Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, and as we all left that night but for my sister and her now husband, I told her knowing dad was going to hang around for days, “if he happens to go, then read this prayer.”  Pure to family form, she had to use that prayer less than 20 minutes later.”  We all turned around from heading home and returned.  He had left us.

I know one of my dad’s goals was to get to walk Anna down the aisle

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at her wedding in October.  My Uncle Al, my dad’s oldest and last brother, did the honors.  In fact we all did our parts, together again as we had be
en the first few months of the year.  Dad would have loved it.  I know we all did.  And we did it without the fear of handing him a microphone and worrying about getting one of his colorful ad libs.

But there are a couple of extra days left in the year, and what they may bring I am not sure.  All I was sure of is that I needed to write.  I have put it off because I felt i was okay, and that was even knowing when I was not.  Hopefully I can work on being a bit more honest with myself and see some progress heading into next year.

Blessings!

Tommy+

 

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