I lived in Modesto for barely four years, but a lot happened in those years. Last week I returned to Modesto, for only the second time in the three decades since I moved there at age sixteen and left at age twenty.
     Modesto, at one time, was a gentle farm town known as the city of"Water, Wealth, Contentment and Health"- at least those were the words on the archway over the City. It is also known for its incredible heat during the summer months, the Gallo family (who happened to build a winery there), and at one time--an ice rink. An ice rink, called the "Olympic Gold Ice Arena", was built in 1972 by my Dad. The ice rink was our family business and was dedicated to my sister's quest for a Gold medal in figure skating at the 1976 Olympics.Although that dream never came to fruition--a lot of other things became possible and impossible during the four years our family owned and operated an ice rink. 
     Modesto's population has doubled and it is now known for some of the worst air quality in the nation, the highest auto theft per capita rate, the most impoverished suburbs in the nation, the methamphetamine capital of the world, and it is ranked in the top most dangerous metropolitan areas. There is also the fame of Scott Peterson from Modesto, who murdered his wife and unborn child. This explains some of the reasons I haven't been back, but last week I did go back. I discovered, in the midst of temperatures near one hundred degrees and despite some depressing figures about the city, some beautiful things. 
    During the long plane trip out to the San Joaquin Valley I read a book. Every so often I read a book--the right book at the right time that jars something loose in me and changes the way I look at everything. This particular book was an authorized biography about Mother Teresa,written by Kathryn Spink. I learned some new things about a tiny woman who went into the most deplorable and impoverished places one can imagine and upon her arrival would begin her ministry by (in her words), "...doing something beautiful for God."
She consistently claimed to only be "responding in the smallest of ways to Christ's unlimited love for her, and to see Christ in every person she encountered." Irregardless of economic status, creed, color,religion or any other difference, there was her ability to love.With simple faith she responded. 
     So I stepped off the plane thinking a lot about this tiny woman'sa mazing life and what she had been able to accomplish. I was also impressed by the words of those who knew her, of her ability to be totally present to the person in front of her, and her limitless energy to continue the call of her ministry with (what she felt) were very humble gifts. Reading about Mother Teresa also struck me with thehumble acknowledgment of my inability to be present to the people in mylife, an innate selfishness that narrows my vision to my own pain or circumstances, and  the conditions and limits on my love. 
     For the next five days God blessed me, and opened my eyes and inspired me with the faith and gifts of the people I encountered. I saw it in a woman named Helen, who had never met me, but who traveled an hour by BART to share her time, her laughter, and a new friendship. I saw it in some neighbors who joined us for dinner, I saw it in the vibrant and friendly community at St. Joseph's Church, I saw it in a couple who have not seen me in 35 years and invited me to their home to help me on the computer with the ministry, I saw it in the help and smile of the woman at the UPS store, and again in the young woman who served us delicious Mexican tacos at her family's restaurant.
     Yet the most obvious manifestation of 'doing something beautifu lfor God' by preaching the Gospel within a life--became visible through the observance of my brother's life. Having been raised without a church, and religion not being much of a conversational subject between my brother and me; I nevertheless saw him living out the axiom of one of my favorite quotes, "Preach the Gospel at all times, if necessary use words."
    I laugh thinking about the quote of St. Francis. I am sure God too is laughing as I get all twisted up in my underwear. I find it so necessary to use a continual stream of words, because I find preaching the Gospel within my life is so darn hard! My life is still trying tof ind the shape of a homily, so most of the time I find the necessity of words imperative.My brother professes no faith, but lives the Gospel. I profess a faith--but give Shakespeare's quote a new twist, "Thou doest profess too much."
  
Everywhere I went, I encountered, watched, and observed his generosity. Quietly, without fanfare, he reaches out to those in need and he chooses to stay and live where he can make a difference. And there is his presence--quiet, listening, interested, present to you and the moment.
     I thought about how God creates each of us, gives us some gifts we can use for Him, and then gives us free will about how, when, and who we will share these gifts with. Some people's gifts are obvious and their opportunities vast, while (perhaps most of us) will struggle to discover our gifts and how we might use them.
     My brother's financial acuity and intelligence earned him the freedom and gift of time. With a high school education he accessed California's real estate market in the 80s and bought, rehabed and sold properties. Accessing the market, he smartly sold the properties at the right time. He owns a small house, in a modest neighborhood and knows most of his neighbors. He adopted a son who did not have much of a family, and gave this kid some much needed parenting, and a life.
     On the plane trip back I thought about the myriad of ways in which to live the Gospel, each of our lives giving a unique shape to the Gospel. Mother Teresa's life gave me new eyes, and my brother's life gave me new inspiration.
Mother Teresa was a woman of few words, but she preached a worldwide Gospel message in her life works. Maybe this is where we can each begin today..doing something beautiful for God right where we are. I have my baby brother to thank, because in his life he is doing something beautiful for God.