"When you coming home, son?"
"I don't know when, but we'll get together then, Dad, you know we'll have a good time then."
"And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me, he'd grown up just like me, my boy was just like me."
 
-- Harry Chapin, "Cat's in the Cradle."
 
Most people seem to frantically pursue sex, drugs, music, "life experience," fame, glory, money, possessions, food, influence, or a host of other things they believe will make them happy. And, of course, these things do make them happy -- at least for a little while. But as soon as the experience is over, the hunger returns.
There are plenty of distractions in this world that divert our attention from what is truly important. This is the way the Devil works. But, as so many have learned at great expense, there are only two things that can go far beyond mere temporary happiness or pleasure and fulfill the yearnings of our souls for true, deep and permanent contentment. These two things are Faith and family -- the only things worth dying for, and the only things we seem so eager to give up.
Sometimes it is said that it is hard to live as a Catholic but easy to die as a Catholic.
Nothing could be further from the reality. If we treasure and nurture Faith and family, we will avoid all of Satan's traps, and we will be truly and deeply content. We will be free of "the slavery of sin" [Romans 6:17, 2 Peter 2:19]. Living the Catholic lifestyle does not mean giving up freedom. We retain the authentic freedoms given to us by God, and reject the false and counterfeit freedoms offered us by Satan and the world. Our Lord has told us that His yoke is easy and His burden light [Matthew 11:30]. Compare this to the burden of the world, which crushes so many.
And so, if we live as Our Lord desires, we have the best of both worlds, both this world and the world to come.
 
Matthew 10:26 tells us that "nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known."
Many Christians interpret this Scripture to mean that, just before God judges our eternal souls, every action, word and thought of our lives are played back like a movie for the entire Heavenly host to watch.
If this is true, the script of a typical American life might look something like this;
 
 
Your first memories are not of parents or siblings, but of other children at a day care center or kindergarten. You learn a number of life principles in these places, including;
 
(1) Share with others.
(2) Don't take advantage of those who are weaker than yourself.
(3) Always tell the truth.
(4) Put the welfare of others above your own.
(5) Always try your best.
 
But soon you learn from observing the actions of grownups that these are not really hard and fast rules, but just ideals we should strive for; ordinary people are not really capable of living up to them all the time.
We must be realistic, after all.
You gradually recognize that the primary rules of life are really
 
(1) Watch out for number one;
(2) Go with the flow;
(3) Mind your own business;
(4) We must always be tolerant; and
(5) Don't be a fanatic about anything.
 
Every once in a while, you go to church with your parents, where you learn that, when it comes to the actions of others, you should "live and let live." You learn that you mustn't ever be intolerant of different lifestyles, no matter how wrong your heart and your mind tell you they are.
You "sort of" believe in God. He is a nice guy who would never send anyone to Hell, because He is kind and merciful.
When you are about seven years old, you tearfully endure the agony of watching your parents fight constantly. Despite the desperate pleas of your one sibling and yourself, they divorce. You shuttle between your mother's home and your father's home for the next few years. You learn to call your stepfather "Dad" and your stepmother "Mom," although it just doesn't feel right. You do it because it is expected of you, and you know that you must be tolerant of these "blended" families. You keep your head down and endure. You learn to tell your schoolmates whose parents are still together that your 'family' is just as good as theirs, only different. But deep down inside you know it isn't true, and you yearn to be in a family just like theirs.
In your early teen years, you experiment with sex because everyone else is doing it and because your parents, peers and teachers say it is all right, but only if you act 'responsibly' by using a condom.
You learn to use others to get your own way. When you reach college, you set your goals on a high‑paying job that will give you power, influence and freedom. You pick up an addiction or two along the way (alcohol, drugs, prostitution, masturbation, sodomy, sex, gambling, pornography, tobacco, influence, money). You have (or help pay for) one or two abortions. You contract herpes. You sleep with a couple of dozen 'partners,' only a few of whose names you can remember.
Party, party, party!
A few years after leaving college and beginning the long climb up the career ladder, you get married. Then you wait a few more years (so you can get established), and have one perfect little boy and one perfect little girl (they're perfect because you had them screened for defects before they were born). After the second child, you get neutered. You have a couple of affairs. You give your kids the best of everything -- except yourself. You teach your children the lessons you have learned in life.
Eventually you stop going to church altogether. You don't really believe in God any more because, on those few times you've earnestly prayed to Him, He hasn't answered your prayers. Besides, you can be just as close to God on the golf course as you can in Church! Anyway, all the Christians you know are really hypocrites, and you certainly don't want to hang around people like that.
You realize that things just aren't working out between you and your spouse, and get an amicable no‑fault divorce after thirteen years of marriage. Your kid's pleadings to stay together tug on your heartstrings, but, after all, this course of action is better for them in the long run.
Hey, you got over it when your parents got divorced.
Finally, your kids graduate from college, and you breathe a sigh of relief, because now your life is greatly simplified. Now you can spend more time and money on what you enjoy. You continue to climb the career ladder. You really do something for the world by proudly contributing thousands of dollars to liberal causes. You make a lot of compromises along the way, until it becomes second nature. You watch your kids (announce they are homosexual/shack up/check into substance abuse centers/get repeated divorces/have children when unmarried/fail to hold down a job/get busted for child abuse or neglect/get smashed up in a car accident while drunk/die of AIDS/abort your grandchildren), and sigh, saying that these things are happening to everyone anyhow, so it's not really a big deal, despite what your innermost feelings tell you. You don't try to interfere in your kid's lives, because they would just resent your meddling.
You retire and travel a lot, living high and finally getting to do all those things you wanted to do -- except anything involving physical stress, because your smoking and drinking and overeating and lack of exercise have left you sixty pounds overweight and a little short of breath. You begin to attend more funerals than weddings, and wryly recall the old joke that all the names in your little black book now end in "M.D." You wake up one quiet day, all alone in your neat and perfect home, surrounded by your many possessions, and finally confront the haunting question, "Is this all there is?"
After a couple of minor heart attacks, you check into a nursing home, because you don't want to impose on your kids. Along with all the other lonely residents, you yearn for company, but your former spouses, children and grandkids only come to visit on 'special' days like your birthday and Christmas. After all, they live busy lives -- just as you did. You feel a pang of guilt when you recall that you never visited your parents, either, after you convinced them that they would be better off in a nursing home. You remember that, a century ago, the elderly were taken in and cared for by their many children, and occasionally you wish it were still like that. But you impatiently dismiss such thoughts. It's better this way. You're a burden to the kids, to society ...
And we must be realistic, after all.
Finally, after years of sitting in your room gazing out the window and watching the seasons change, you suffer a stroke. As your vision slowly fades, you hear the doctors discussing the provisions outlined in your Living Will ...
And suddenly you are standing before God, Who is finally and completely visible to you.
And right in front of Him and the entire Heavenly host, you watch in helpless horror as your life begins to be played back ...