The Magdalene Diaries

A Better Country

2007-01-27T11:42:00.000-05:00

From today's readings...Hebrews 11: 1 - 2, 8 - 19

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.
By faith Abraham obeyed and he went out, not knowing where he was to go.
For he looked forward to the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.
Therefore from one man, and him as good as dead, were born descendants as many as the stars of heaven
These all died in faith, having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.
For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.
They desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.
Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God,
for he has prepared for them a city.

The Father

2007-01-27T08:08:00.000-05:00

Der Vater ("The Father")
by Albrecht Haushofer

The deepest folktale from the eastern lands
Tells us that some spirits of the foulest force
Rest imprisoned in the midnight seas,
Sealed up by the Lord God's worried hands,

Until once in a thousand years, there comes
A fisherman who's granted this decision:
Release the awful powers from their prison,
Or cast away at once those fettered demons.

For my father there was this to choose:
Push the demon back into its cell,
By strength of will confine it to its hell.

My father broke the seal and let it loose.
He did not see the breath of evil's flight.
He let the demon drift into the night.

[Albrecht Haushofer (1903-1945) was shot by the SS near the gate of Moabit Prison on April 25, 1945]

— translated from the German by Pavel Chichikov
Hear Pavel read this poem and others at www.pavelreads.com

The Annual Erma Bombeck Writing Competition

2007-01-25T10:10:00.000-05:00

The Washington Centerville Public Library is sponsoring it's annual Erma Bombeck Essay Writing Competition. You can also read the past year's winning entries.

The Rules Of Goo

2007-01-12T11:18:00.000-05:00

The rules change when you are a mother of twins- those unspoken mom-rules that every mom and mom-to-be is expected to know, having magically received them telepathically from other moms throughout the globe the day you found out you were pregnant. If you didn’t get those rules, don’t feel bad. As a mom, sooner or later the sound of your own mother’s voice in your head comes echoing back at you, and sometimes you can even see her in your mind’s eye…with a bullhorn and a clipboard. Yes, motherhood involves schizophrenia, but they don’t tell you this until after the fact. Mothering twins involves babyophrenia which is the ability to simultaneously fill a sippy-cup with one hand while balancing a 23-pound toddler in the other arm and plunging the toilet to retrieve a plastic 5 inch Eeyore toy, while you are singing the theme to “Elmo’s Big Day”.

Natural law ceases to make any sense whatsoever when you have children. For example, I’m no math genius, but it doesn’t add up that my daughter (who is 15 months old and who weighs about 20 pounds and who hasn’t eaten anything in the last 4 days except a few graham crackers and the occasional dollop of baby rash ointment) has been able to produce at least 400 pounds of goo from one end of her or the other. They didn’t tell me about the goo when I got the rules. My mother laughs in a kind of revengeful sort of way in my mind’s eye.

Goo, for those who are non-parents, is a space-age type substance which is made up largely of the stuff that keeps the Starship Enterprise flying backwards and forwards through time. It is indestructible; from what I have seen it can melt steel. Its pungent odor defies description. Despite these qualities, the pediatrician has reassured me that I don’t need a Hazmat suit when handling it. She recommended that I try feeding the baby Jello, which apparently has anti-goo properties, to cut down on the overall goo production.

I notice the questions change too. For example, now that they are walking, the question is no longer “Is that good for them?” It is “Will that kill or maim them and will it buy me 10 minutes to finish the laundry?” Here is another: Why does a week-old piece of blackened, smashed-into-the-carpet banana, hidden under the table have more appeal than fresh, happy, friendly, jiggly peach Jello? When this question can be answered, Grasshopper, you have indeed become wise. Or insane. Which, of course leads me to the book of Isaiah.

I love to read Isaiah, while the babies sleep and I am picking cheerios out of my hair. Of the prophets, his book is the most mystical in language and by the time the kids are sleeping and I have a quiet moment, he makes sense. I think a pre-requisite for a lot of the bible should be a couple of Dr. Seuss books. The theologians are all rolling their eyes now. How dare I compare the Word of God to Dr. Seuss! I dare because we are called to be children and told the kingdom belongs to such ones. After spending the day with my kids, I understand why.

There is no pride in toddler-hood. They don’t have to be brainiacs to get me to respond to them. There is only trust, love, and inordinate amounts of goo. My daughter knows mommy can fix goo, just like I know Christ fixes me, daily, when I lay down my pride long enough come to Him. He keeps holding out the Jello to me, and I keep going for the smashed banana. But He doesn’t give up.

From New Advent I found that Isaiah was only about 20 years of age when God called Him to prophecy. He married and had two sons, She`ar¬Yashub and Maher¬shalal¬hash¬baz, whose names translate roughly into “Hey you!” and “Why don’t you listen?” He was killed by being sawed in half. After parenting, martyrdom isn’t so scary. At any rate, in Chapter 54, my favorite chapter, God speaks to Israel through him in such beautiful language, with a promise not only of restoration but of majesty.

11 O poor little one, tossed with tempest, without all comfort,
behold I will lay thy stones in order, and will lay thy foundations with sapphires,
12 And I will make thy bulwarks of jasper: and thy gates of graven stones,
and all thy borders of desirable stones.
13 All thy children shall be taught of the Lord:
and great shall be the peace of thy children.

I pray for this restoration daily, because I know that I am Israel. I know that the Lord is clarity and sanity in a world of illusion and emptiness. I pray for the peace of my children, that I may lay the foundations of the faith for them rightly, as God lays all my own stones in order. The Christian walk is hard and not for wimps. Much like parenting, it involves a lot of strength. If not for love, we wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) be involved in either pursuit. Which must mean I’m not a masochist for forcing myself to like Elmo, right? I will like Elmo….I will.

The Choice To Love

2007-01-11T07:30:00.000-05:00

A Mag Diaries Holy Spirit 2007 Award goes to Be Not Afraid , a wonderful website that encourages parents who have received a poor pre-natal diagnosis regarding their pregnancies to continue on with the pregnancy and choose life. It includes some very moving and very beautiful stories and articles, as well as resources to these families who make such a selfless decision. Some of the stories have happy outcomes such as mis-diagnosis or healings. Some of them, like the lovely poem below written by a grandmother, describe peace and faith in God's plan, and joy for gift of life the family has been given, if only for a short time.

Pronounced Anencephalic and Incompatible with Life

A firstborn son belongs to God.
Most can be redeemed, for a price.
But you, Jonathan David--
God snatches you and leaves us
empty-handed, empty wombed, empty-hearted.

We've stormed the throne to buy you back,
Offering our very life for yours.
We've pled before the Judge:
"His life belongs with us.
His parents could know joy, the docters awe.
Our faith would blossom and our love grow bold.

Dear Father, if you had a mind to heal,
You could heal his brain with a word."

But the nurses tell us as they gaze
through walls of flesh, opaque:
"I'm so sorry, but there's no mistake."
They never say it quite, and so we do,
"Jonathan David, you're our Pooh--
our bear of very little brain."

A laugh can ease the pain
and cut encroaching terror into shreds
that only cling like webs.

How gladly we would offer you our cells.
Thousands die each day
And those we keep we throw away.
But our mind cannot be yours.
A fog has settled on our souls.

A voice comes muffled through the darkened shroud.
"Fear not, It is I who have redeemed him.
I've hidden his life with me.
Nursing infants sing my praise.
Before you, Jonathan will have my mind
to think my thoughts after me.
In my wisdom His mind is perfect,
and your grief is power."

And so, dear Jonathan, we will believe.
We will receive and love you as you are;
Most precious to us in your desperate need.

If birth is more than you can bear,
than through our tears we'll sing a lullaby of joy.
For you will go unhindered from the comfort
of your mother's womb
to the safety of our Father's home.

If you linger with us for a fleeting breath or two,
we will count each one and remember you.
Our breaths are numbered, too.

Dear Jonathan,
If God, in mercy, grants you one full hour,
We'll peer a little longer past your mind into your soul.
We'll take your tiny hands in ours,
look upon you long and sing our song.

If life rests with you for a day,
then we will give it back to God
who turns it to a thousand years.

Dear Jonathan,if you are born
sheer miracle, and life should last;
if on this earth you burp and grin and crawl;
then you will groan with us beneath the load of sin
and struggle with the dark within.
But you will smell the lily, touch the head
of a baby sister in her bed.
You will seize the power and the grace of a Savior's love,
who with you forever bears the weight of a past.

Jonathan David,
Life is not incompatible with you.
However long you stay within our reach,
you and life are bound in Jesus' sheaf.
In your new home, you will love as you are loved
and know as you are known.

Life's author stands to greet you,
Impatient, runs to meet you,
"Well-done, good and faithful friend!"
Jonathan, you've served me to the end.

Rebecca Jones
Bereaved grandmother to Jonathan, Rebecca Jones is also a mother, author, and instructor at Westminster Theological Seminary. She and husband Peter are founding members of CWIPP, a Christian culture and education outreach.
Copyright, 2000
July 29, 2000

Catholic Carnival #101

2007-01-10T12:12:00.000-05:00

"Finally it dawned on me. The Catholic Church is God's Romance. If the Bible is God's love letter to us, then the Catholic Church is the box of chocolates, the roses and the jewelry."

You can read the rest of this man's beautiful Easter Vigil Experience at Full Circle , just one of the wonderful posts in this week's Catholic Carnival , hosted this week by Kicking Over My Traces . Enjoy!

Embryos-On-Demand

2007-01-08T15:26:00.000-05:00

The first Crispy-Critter Award for 2007 goes to these folks . Please surf on over to Crossed The Tiber to read how they are promoting a culture of death under the guise of "life" and please pray for the unborn.

Egads! I've been...

2007-01-07T23:46:00.000-05:00

...tagged!
Presenting: The Catholic Alphabet Meme! I was tagged by Laura over at ...and if not.... I feel so special...I've never been tagged before!

[A is for apparitions - your favorite]: Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and St. Catherine Laboure

[B is for Bible - the one you read most often]: New Revised Standard Version (sounds like a misnomer...it's standard but revised AND new...?(Catholic Edition) but I love the King Jimmy too.

[C is for Charism - the one you would most like to have]: I'd love to be able to heal by laying on hands.

[D is for Doctor of the Church - your favorite]: St.Teresa De Avila

[E is for Essential Prayer - What's yours?]: Liturgy of the Hours and Daily Offering to the Sacred Heart

[F is for Favorite Hymn]: So Many! "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" "Ave Maria" "Here I am, Lord" "Christ, Circle Round Us" so many others....

[G is for Gospel - your favorite author?]: John

[H is for Holy Communion - How would you describe it, using one word?]: Intimacy

[I is for Inspiration - When do you feel most inspired by God?]: When I'm with my children

[J is for Jesus - When did you first meet Him?]: In suffering, when I asked the Holy Spirit for the truth regarding the Real Presence. WOW!

[K is for Kindness - Which saint or person has most inspired you by their kindness?] Mother Teresa and St. Max Kolbe

[L is for liturgical year - your favorite time in the liturgical cycle?]: Christmas

[M is for Mary, the Mother of God - Your favorite term of endearment for her]: Our Lady

[N is for New Testament - Your favorite passage]: Philippians 3:10

[O is for Old Testament - Your favorite Book here]: Isaiah

[P is for Psalms - your favorite]: Psalm 56

[Q is for quote - saint quote]:

St. Teresa's Bookmark

"Let nothing trouble you, let nothing frighten you.
All things are passing; God never changes.

Patience obtains all things.
He who possesses God lacks nothing:
God alone suffices." Teresa De Avila

[R is for rosary - your favorite mysteries]: Sorrowful

[S is for Saint - the one you turn to in time of need - not including the Blessed Virgin Mary]: St. Max Kolbe, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Teresa the Little Flower, St. Edith Stein, Mother Teresa (my spiritual guide), Padre "My Papa" Pio, St. Rita....oh so many. How fortunate we are to have the whole court of heaven to petition for us!

[T is for Tradition - your favorite Catholic tradition]: Sacred Heart devotions and Lenten Fasting.

[U is for university - Which Catholic University have you attended or are currently attending?]: I don't. But I have a place in my heart for Notre Dame.

[V is for Virtue - the one you wish you had]: I am praying to obtain them all, in order to fight the vices which I can't get rid of!

[W is for Way of the Cross - Which station can you most relate to?]: 8th Station - Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem

[X is for Xaverian Brothers - I do now! lol (They are the religious brothers of St. Francis Xavier. Thanks, Laura.)

[Y is for your favorite Catholic musician]: The lady in front of me at Mass who is singing her heart out, off-tune and joyous. Wow, sometimes that lady is me!

[Z is for Zeal for the faith]: I am zealous for Your house, O Lord!

TAG! YOU'RE IT!
Ok gotta tag some folks now...
martha, martha
onionboy::ca
The Kitchen Madonna

Bad News

2007-01-07T09:01:00.000-05:00

My Fortune Cookie told me:
Expect the Spanish Inquisition.
Get a cookie from Miss Fortune

Oh boy.

2007-01-06T07:46:00.000-05:00

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
Lady Madame Mikala Fofala the Charming of Londinium-le-Thames
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Thanks, Sarah , for this totally useless but really amusing doo-hickey. Wouldn't it be cool to script one for religious names? Hmmmm......*Sounds of breaking glass, heavy machinery and the smell of smoke as my brain begins to warm up*

The 2007 Mag Awards

2007-01-04T04:56:00.000-05:00

I've decided to start awarding the much-desired and highly sought-after Magdalene Diaries Holy Spirit 2007 Awards to those heroes, mundane and illustrious, who stand up for the cause of human dignity, fight back against the culture of death and hold firm in the wake of opposition, especially those who take a hit for it, personal or otherwise. These folks, regardless of their religious affiliations, are motivated by the Holy Spirit whether they know it or not; they focus on the rights and needs of others above themselves.

The first recipient of The Magdalene Diaries Holy Spirit 2007 Award goes to this guy . Please pray for James L. Sherley, who is threatening to go on a hunger strike to obtain tenure at MIT, having been denied it because he refuses to participate in Embryonic Stem Cell Research . He also roundly condemned scientists who engage in embryonic stem cell research (which includes a number of his colleagues at MIT) for ethical carelessness and suspect motivations.

"In the minds of many scientists," he said, "being first to clone human embryos guarantees a Nobel Prize and bronze statues in their likeness. When such motivation for fame and fortune is combined with the fragmentary, variable, and overall uncertain regulatory environment surrounding human embryo research, the risk for ethical misconduct is high and pervasive." Mr. Sherley may not be taking a stand against embryonic research because he believes in the right to life, but he is concerned about corruption and unethical practices and cares enough to stand up against MIT because of it.

What have you taken a stand against today?

In contrast to the Holy Spirit 2007 Award, we have the much-maligned and just generally nasty Crispy-Critter Award for 2007.

(Make sure you tell the kids not to try out for this one.)It is awarded to those who are not fortified by the Holy Spirit and choose to promote the culture of death, take advantage of others, and basically stink up the place. They, unfortunate wretches that they are, like the poor damned guy from Michelangelo's painting (who looks like he can't believe he ate the *WHOLE* thing!)will spend eternity as a Crispy Critter unless they get it together. Please add them to your prayer lists.

The 100th Catholic Carnival is up....

2007-01-03T11:39:00.000-05:00

...at Sarah's blog Just Another Day Of Catholic Pondering . She does a fab job of hosting as always. Don't be intimidated by her awesome writing: We have so many talented Catholic writers who participate every week...and then there are those like me who like to hear themselves typing. PLEASE join us every week and submit a post! You are sure to get some kind of plenary indulgence...or hey, call it an act of charity: You ARE sharing and evangelizing the faith! It doesn't have to be brilliant and it doesn't have to be long. (Heck, it doesn't even have to be run through the spell-checker!) Check out the "how" at Living Catholicism.

St. Joseph and Fathers

2006-12-31T09:19:00.000-05:00

I love to listen to Christian preachers on the radio the way some people love to listen to secular talk radio. Since I live in East Tennessee, there are ample opportunities for this, one of the blessings of living in this beautiful and still boldly christian state. Sometimes I find myself arguing out loud with them in the car. I’ve actually been at stoplights where the people in the car next to mine have stared at me with their mouths open. Yes, that’s me waving my hands in the air and ranting out loud. Luckily, there are kids in the backseat, so I don’t look too crazy.

I love to listen to preachers because sometimes they actually get it right. Unfortunately, more often than not they get it wrong. Take St. Joseph, for instance. I was listening to a preacher on Christmas talk about the Nativity story, how Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem for the census and how poor Joseph spent all day trying to find shelter for his very pregnant wife and how poor Mary was so uncomfortable. This particular preacher really brought the whole experience into human terms, noting that they were far from their home and friends and familiar sights, that the city was crowded with people from all over also there for the census, and how the manger in which Jesus was born really wasn’t much more than a cold, dark and wet cave, and not the warm, fire-lit, hay strewn barn that we mostly see depicted. I cheered with admiration when he noted how the last thing you would want to do in a cave with no ventilation is build a fire, so that the fire that warmed them must have been at the entrance and that the ground was muddy and hard-packed by animals’ hooves and covered in things much more unpleasant than mud. I thought of how any man would feel very ashamed at not having been able to secure better digs for Mary, and how Mary needed him so much, and how the two of them together, in their poor and beautiful and mysterious way welcomed the Savoir of Mankind into the world that night. It was all very meditative and moving and then suddenly came to a screeching halt, like the needle-drag on those old vinyl records, when he spoke about their ages.

We know that Mary was a virgin about the age of 14 years when the angel Gabriel appeared to her at the annunciation. The preacher waxed about wondering how it must of felt, to be a young girl of 14 years of age, to be visited by such glory. And then he wondered how Joseph, a kid of about 15 or 16 years of age might have felt…and that’s when I nearly coughed up my Starbucks.

While it is true that we don’t have the ages of Joseph and Mary included in the canonical scriptures, we do have the non-canonical books which state that Mary was of 14 years of age and that Joseph was an older man, had already been married, whose wife had died. The children from this marriage are indeed the brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ referred to in the bible. As Catholics we are not called to view these non-canonical books as scripture, however from a historical viewpoint they are the oldest and most reliable accounting of the details of Mary and Joseph’s ages at the time of Christ’s birth. Why is this such a big deal to me? Because as Mary is a role model for any Christian woman, Christian men can and should be looking to St. Joseph as a perfect example of a Christian man and father. To say he was only a kid of 15 or 16 is inaccurate. Which leads me to a second point…

Somewhere in the last generation or so, we seem to have misplaced fathers. Speaking as a woman, I should clarify that and say that we have, in our misguided attempts at so-called “equal rights” and the advent of the sexual revolution, we have basically told fathers that they aren’t needed anymore, and that they aren’t necessary. We have pushed away the vital role of fatherhood, and having been pushed away and labeled as unnecessary, I believe a lot of men are lost as to what their roles are in the family. I learned most of what it means to be a woman from the woman that raised me. Is it wrong to say that most men learn what it means to be a man from their own fathers? If so, what of the man who’s father was absent from the home and was afforded no good male role model? Society will tell you that fathers are an extra, a bonus if you will. I read a statistic recently that stated 80 percent of inner-city children live in a household where the father is absent. It is no great exaggeration to say that we are a fatherless generation.

Christ was conceived by the Holy Spirit in Mary, a virgin who remained a virgin throughout her entire life. From a secular standpoint, Joseph was not “needed” for conception or for marital union, but only served as bread-winner. In reality, the Holy Spirit brought forth Christ’s deity, the Virgin Mary his physical humanity, but St. Joseph taught Jesus the nuts and bolts of being a man and living and interacting with other men in the world. He was vital, and so are today’s fathers. This great and godly vocation, which mirrors God’s Fatherhood to us, serves as protector, spiritual director and partner. God elevated the role of father by charging St. Joseph with the loving care of His Son and His spouse. We as women have been arrogant in our belief that we can and should be mothers AND fathers to our children, which is evident in the cycle of fatherless boys who in turn become absent fathers themselves.

You will find a real man at True Knights .

Pray As You Go

2006-12-30T22:03:00.000-05:00

Be sure to check out Pray As You Go offered by Jesuit Media Initiatives from The Jesuits in Britain . Since I am one of the 3 people left in the world who don't currently own an MP3 player and I am using that archaic form of internet connectivity known as "dial-up", I haven't downloaded their 10-12 minute daily devotions but will be able to soon. In the meantime, maybe someone can let me know if they used and enjoyed it. Sounds like a wonderful resource for those of us wanting more prayer time in our busy lives.

Things I Have Learned Over Christmas Living With 2 Toddlers

2006-12-30T02:31:00.000-05:00

Hell hath no fury, or adhesive properties, like 2-day old, once sodden cheerios dried to a shiny shellac finish on fleece pajamas.

When Christmas shopping, here is always someone to hold the door open for me with a smile when they see us coming with the big double stroller. In contrast, waitresses see me coming with my double stroller and immediately burst into tears. Small children want to climb on. Sometimes, I end up at the car with an extra child who is attempting to stow away.

No matter how beautifully decorated the Christmas tree is, how gorgeous the ornaments or how intriguingly placed the lights on it are, it will still end up barricaded in the corner behind the couch and 2 chairs because toddlers want to climb it.

Never wear a white shirt to a pizza place with toddlers learning to eat with their hands. All you are is a big hankie.

Hey, I am as mindful of my kid’s safety as the next mom. But seriously, sometimes I’d like to kill the person responsible for the five-point harness on car seats. When it is 8 pm my kids turn into loud, whiny, wriggly octopuses with the strength of 10 men. Strapping them into a car seat with five straps is like trying to pin down a 747 in mid take-off with a spatula.

To a child under 2, Santa Claus has about as much appeal as going to the dentist for root canal work.

Yes, it is true: You can spend a million dollars on every bright, loud, colorful and educational toy on the planet and toddlers will still be more intrigued and get more fun out of banging a metal mixing bowl on the floor- while chewing on the wrapping paper your gorgeous and expensive educational toy came in.

No matter how I try, I will probably never instill fear into them like the sight of my vacuum cleaner does. I’m hoping this lasts until they are 18.

If given the choice between your scrumptious, family recipe, takes-5-hours-to-make-and-has-25-ingredients, home baked upside down apple crispy Christmas muffins and cheese, the toddler will choose the cheese. Don’t let it hurt your feelings. They like wrapping paper too.

Late Christmas Carnival....

2006-12-30T01:42:00.000-05:00

Yikes! I am still groggy from the nog, and forgot to post that the 99th Catholic Carnival has been up at Pondering the Word.

Get Nogged...

2006-12-12T20:32:00.000-05:00

...at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering where you will find this week's Catholic Carnival. Enjoy!

2007 Saint of the Year Devotion

2006-12-08T04:04:00.000-05:00

I am honored to be chosen this year by St. Agnes. My daughter has been chosen by St. Agatha. I see these two young virgin martyrs as sisters, even though the common blood they share is martyrdom and not familial. Historically, they were born about 150 years apart, and both had promised their virginity to Christ as young girls, only to be thrown into brothels so that they would renounce their chastity. Both were cruelly tortured and killed, St. Agatha having had her breasts mutilated and then rolled onto live coals.

These two ancient saints remind me of a third, who will most likely never be recognized by the Catholic Church but who I feel is just as worthy of reverence. Her name is Marian Fisher and she was Amish. You may remember reading about her just recently, one of 5 little Amish girls who were killed when a deranged man broke into their little schoolhouse, bound them and shot them to death. Marian Fisher was 13 years old. One of the surviving girls recounted how, when bound by this “outsider” waving a gun and threatening her, Marian Fisher told him to “shoot me and leave the other ones loose.” I am still astounded at her bravery and her willingness to give her life for the sake of the other girls in the schoolhouse. I am sure she is a saint and embodies the spirit of St. Agatha and St. Agnes, who at about the same tender age braved death to protect their virginity and in fidelity to Christ. “No greater love have a man than this: than to lay down his life for the sake of his friends.” I pray through the intercession of these saints that I am fortified to defend my faith, even unto death.

My son was chosen by the Archangel Raphael, whose name means “God has healed”. My son’s name, Jaden, comes from the Hebrew Jadon, which means “God has heard”. God indeed has heard and has healed me these past two years, with the birth of my beautiful twins. I have included the Litany to St. Raphael in my daily prayers.

Thanks to Moneybags for this 2007 Saint of the Year Devotion. If you haven’t already, take a minute to participate at A Catholic Life .

This week's Catholic Carnival...

2006-12-06T02:59:00.000-05:00

...is up at Kicking Over My Traces . Lots of good schtuff this time around,including these tasty bits:

Chore Time by lovely Sarah at Just Another Day Of Catholic Pondering about feeding sheep and other medatative things.

Saint Of The Year Devotion by Moneybags at A Catholic Life . Send in your info and get one while they're hot!

Hope by Steve Bogner over at Catholicism, Holiness and Spirituality . Short but sweet and a much needed reminder that hope is ...well, much needed!

The Seven Habits of Faith by John Gedbaw at A Grain of Wheat is a great post on how to take a "Faith Inventory" to help your faith grow daily.

Funky's wife, Stuff over at Ales Rarus writes about The Vocation of Marriage and Parenthood. I like her "the more, the merrier" ideas about kids. Now, if I could just get the marriage part right....

Herb Ely writes about On Distractions in Prayer: Advice From The Hasidic Jewish Tradition . I love to read about the Baal Shem, a way-holy Jewish dude who began the Hasidic Jewish tradition in the first place. I've gained a lot in my Catholic journey reading about his life and his writings...hope you do too.

And oh my, I have discovered the beautiful Kitchen Madonna and her tasty blog! Please read KM Beef Stew Recipe... and take some time to browse around. Her delightful kitchen is a yummy place to warm up this season.

All the posts are worth a read, these are just some I've read today. Enjoy!

Thinking About Bosoms

2006-12-03T02:35:00.000-05:00

Lately, I’ve been thinking about bosoms. Now, before you get all bent out of shape and decide to tattle on me to Sister Mary Martha, I’m not thinking about them in the lecherous sense. After all, I have a bosom myself. So does the patriarch Abraham, as we read in Luke 16. So does my grandmother, Helen.

My grandmother is going to be 92 years old this March. When I think about the sheer amount of years she has lived, and how many beginnings and endings she has known in her lifetime, my mind boggles. Born in 1915, she has been witness to more advancements in technology than in any other period in our history. She has seen the Great Depression, 2 World Wars, the birth of the television and the first man on the moon, just to name a few. After raising her own two sons, she also raised me from birth. If you ask her how she is feeling on any given day, she will tell you, with a tired smile, that “the old, gray mare aint what she used to be”. Although her body is arthritic and stiff, and her parts are getting rusty, her mind remains sharp and her memory solid. Although she may not be able to remember what she had for breakfast by dinnertime, she can remember things like being a child in the 20’s growing up in Chicago, her first date with my grandpa, her marriage at 19 (they eloped at St. Peter’s in downtown Chicago in defiance of her family!) and the birth of her kids. She is an amazing lady.

This little woman who now barely stands 4 and one half feet tall is a giant in my eyes. She has taught me most of what I know about real love. I suppose a better way of putting it might be that I believe in love and know that it does exist because of the example of my grandmother.

She herself was raised by her grandparents, a Scottish grandfather and an Irish grandmother. She has an entire laundry list of “old wives tales” and sayings that are a mix of Scottish, Irish and Catholic, Pre-Vatican II family superstitions. For example, I am 36 years old and still cannot put a pair of shoes on a table for fear of bringing bad luck into the house. If your right palm itches, scratch it on wood and put it in your pocket and you’ll be sure to receive money from someone that day. Ignore it if it is your left hand; you will just wind up with a kiss from a fool. And always, always pray to St. Anthony for any lost item and he will help you find it in no time.

Although my grandmother has always been petite, I can remember crawling into her lap and resting my head on her chest, which was always warm and ample and comfortable. My grandmother carried everything, from money, to tissues, to safety pins, in her brassiere, affectionately referred to as her “bosom”. I remember being a teenager and searching for a pencil and being absolutely astonished to watch her pull one out from that amazing place where she stored all the little necessities of life. I remember being embarrassed beyond words when, one morning going to school she safety-pinned a dear 5 dollar bill for a field trip on the inside of my own pre-teen brassiere so that I wouldn’t lose it and bursting into tears when the teacher asked me to turn it in. How to retrieve it in front the class and especially mean old Tony Lupee who would no doubt tease me mercilessly about it for the rest of 8th grade and possibly my entire life?????

When I was very small, she would lay me down for a nap with her in her bed and pull from her bosom a rosary and teach me to say the “Our Father” and the “Hail Mary” and my guardian angel prayer. She kept bobby pins there for my hair, which was always a mess of curls and frizz. She kept phone numbers and shoelaces in her bosom and quarters there too and would always slip me one in church before mass to light a candle for my poor dead mother’s soul. As I grew older I started to wonder why she bothered with a purse at all. She had absolutely no qualms about slipping her hand into the neck of her blouse to retrieve whatever it was she needed. By the time I came into her life she had become such a pro at it so that if you blinked you missed it entirely and before you could say “Gram, I need a….” , there she was holding whatever it was out to you with a smile.

Love is like that in my opinion. It anticipates its beloved’s needs and adorns itself accordingly. It keeps the interests of the loved one close to its heart.

Now that we live across the country from one another, I find that she can still anticipate when I am feeling overwhelmed by life, or in need of an “I love you”. She always seems to call exactly at the right moment, to give me comfort and a reality check in the process. And there always seems to be an envelope from her in my mailbox with a few bucks in it, when a few bucks are hard to come by. I am saddened and humbled to realize that not everyone is so fortunate to have been raised by someone who truly loves them.

In the bible, we read about Abraham’s Bosom, that lovely place where Lazarus, after a life of misery and pain, is carried to by the angels. In contrast, there is a rich man who is “buried in hell” after death. It is this same Bosom which Augustine, in his eloquent and charming way, writes of with regard to his friend Nebridius “Whom, not long after our conversion and regeneration by Thy Baptism, being also a faithful member of the Church Catholic, and serving Thee in perfect chastity and continence amongst his people in Africa, his whole house having through him first been made Christian, didst Thou release from the flesh; and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that be, which is signified by that bosom, there lives my Nebridius, my sweet friend, and Thy child, O Lord, adopted of a freed man: there he liveth. For what other place is there for such a soul?”

My babies love to be held against my chest and I love to hold them there. Now as we enter Advent, I think of Our Lady cradling the baby Jesus to her bosom on that Holy Night when she and St. Joseph had the beautiful and mysterious privilege of adoring Him all to themselves for a short time. Before the shepherds and the wise men came to worship Him, before His presentation, His growth, His ministry and His destiny were fulfilled, they held them to their chests in the quiet and safety of the manger. Before anything, He was placed in the heart of a family and given parents to love Him.

This Christmas (and truly at all times) we should pray specifically for families and that for children who are unloved and unwanted. We should see in every person the child they once were, and know that they have a Father in heaven who, regardless of their state in life or even their cooperation with His grace, loves them beyond our understanding and desires to cradle us all to His Sacred Heart. This includes the criminal, the hedonist, the sourpuss, the liar, thief and the depraved one. One day, that person’s Father will take an accounting of how you loved His child on earth.

Catholic Carnival #95

2006-11-29T08:45:00.000-05:00

Oh, that handsome Nicholas Hardesty over at PhatCatholic Apologetics is hosting this week's carnival. He is a student at Steubenville. He probably is one of those guys imported from a different planet I wrote about here .

Catholic Carnival #94

2006-11-21T04:21:00.000-05:00

My friend Owen hosts this week's Catholic Carnival over at Luminous Miseries. Go take a peek. Say a prayer for us bloggers while yer at it :)

Wrestling With Angels

2006-11-20T20:26:00.000-05:00

I have twin almost-toddlers. When shopping with them, people usually give me one of two reactions: pity or envy. I actually considered carrying a sign with a handle on it that says YES THEY ARE TWINS on one side and PRAY FOR ME on the other, and randomly flipping it back and forth as we move throughout the store. People love to kitchy-koo them. As they should, for they are very kitchy-koo type babies and usually very sweet-tempered. Except when it is bedtime and I’m exhausted and they are squirmy and wriggly and I have to literally wrestle them into clean diapers and pajamas. Then I have to remind myself that the angels that greet me with smiles and laughter every morning are the very same angels that are now whining and turned upside down and crawling away from me with a half-on, half-off diaper loaded with angel-poop. It’s difficult sometimes, but we get through it and it is one of the thorns of motherhood that is intertwined with all the blooms. When I am wrestling with them, I think of the patriarch Jacob and how he wrestled with an angel for an entire night. I think of how we all wrestle with things, with spiritual battles, with other people, with addictions and problems and joys and decisions. Life’s a struggle and we don’t seem to stop struggling until it’s over.

In the bible passage, Jacob wrestles and the angel does not overcome him. I know what the angel feels like sometimes. It is a revelation of sorts when you realize you can’t overcome the strength of your one year old who will not relinquish your house keys while you try to balance her 20 pound weight on one hip and a diaper bag and groceries on the other.

I am not a big wrestling fan. When I think of wrestling, I think of people like Hulk Hogan; big, loud, burly men dressed up in capes and tights who throw each other around a ring while the crowd goes wild. There is a kind of back-and-forth movement in wrestling, where one guy will have his opponent locked in a choke-hold and it seems like he is winning and then all of a sudden the guy in the choke-hold will pull a sly move on the first guy and have him writhing on the floor. I think most of it is staged ahead of time. In Jacob’s case, when morning comes and the angel cannot overcome him, he tells Jacob to release him. Even then, Jacob tells him he won’t let him go without a blessing. The angel has to reach out and shrink Jacob’s thigh to get him to let go of him. In this we recognize that the whole purpose of the struggle between the two wasn’t winning or losing, it was persevering in the struggle itself. Jacob’s bravery and his strength are proven.

I’m not particularly good at perseverance, especially if I’m uncomfortable. I hate having to go to the bathroom at a sporting even when the line to the ladies room is a mile long. But perseverance means more than waiting patiently for your turn. I’ve found it means being strong, even when everything and everyone around you is screaming at you to give in to the easier or more popular influence. For example, take same-sex marriages. Here in Tennessee the majority are opposed to gay unions and we did in fact vote to ban them. In my own personal opinion, it would be easy for me to say that love is love, and if two people love one another and are committed enough to want to marry, why not allow it? But as a Christian and a Catholic, I know that the answer is because it is an abomination to God, something that offends him grievously and out of love for Him, I must take a stand against gay marriage. This makes me a fuddy-duddy and a holy-roller; one of those bible-thumping Christians. Yes, and obedient to my Father in heaven.

The world tells us to seek riches, and to take advantage of those already disadvantaged, and to rely on our own mind for strength. In Jacob’s story, he was afraid of facing his twin brother Esau in battle, fearing that he would be overtaken by him and so he multiplied his prayer to God and leaned on what God had already promised him:

9 And Jacob said: O God of my father Abraham, and God of my father Isaac, O Lord, who saidst to me: Return to thy land and to the place of thy birth, and I will do well for thee,
10 I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies, and of thy truth which thou hast fulfilled to thy servant. With my staff I passed over this Jordan; and now I return with two companies.
11 Deliver me from the hand of my brother Esau, for I am greatly afraid of him: lest perhaps he come, and kill the mother with the children.
12 Thou didst say that thou wouldst do well by me, and multiply my seed like the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for the multitude.

Jacob was scared out of his wits because Esau was coming in haste to meet him with 400 men. He must have wracked his brain trying to understand how God could fulfill His promise to him while it seemed so impossible that Jacob could overtake Esau’s larger army. Taken figuratively, Jacob wrestled with his faith in God that night, against what he saw before him as something unconquerable. We are all like this, wrestling with what we see against what we don’t see, but believe through Christ’s promises. The Word is contrary to the flesh, and this struggle is made even more bitter and difficult when we are left to struggle alone, when we see others reveling in comfort and apparent peace, having gone the way of the world and given up on God and faith. But we are encouraged to persevere, being promised a blessing beyond description at the end of the fight. As we read in Matt 13: 31 “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

The angel does indeed bless Jacob in the morning, and gives him a new name, an amazing name: Israel. Jacob says now tell me your name and the angel replies with a question: Why do you ask my name? As if to say, come on knucklehead, I’ve been with you all night…who do you think I am after all? Jacob knows he has wrestled with the appearance of God Himself, Who has taught him that He is faithful to His word.

I, too, am a knucklehead. I wrestle the angel all the time and am always questioning God’s hand in my life, so obvious to me and so needed. I look at my children and wonder how so great a God could be so generous to someone as unfaithful and, yes, unwilling to persevere at times in faith. But He leads me along gently, even if He sometimes has to “shrink my thigh” to get me to recognize His presence. This happens as I am scraping baby-goo off my shoulder and thinking that instead of being a mom I should have been an astronaut. Or a wrestler.

Wrinkles In Heaven

2006-11-11T22:11:00.000-05:00

Lately, I’m coming to the realization that I am getting older. For one thing, I’m not “hip” anymore. Today I was presented with one of those annoying internet pop-up thingies that show you a picture of some famous person and give you three choices as to who the person is and if you are really, really gullible you click on the right name and get an offer for lower auto insurance or something similar. Usually they are so easy that even if you have been living as a hermit in a cave for years, you still know who the celebrity is, like Michael Jackson. This time, I couldn’t tell who they were. I had no clue. Is there really somebody named “50 Cent”?

Another reason I know I’m getting older is that I have wrinkles. I just turned 36 and up until about a year ago, I couldn’t buy a bottle of wine anywhere without being asked for my I.D. In a hurry once about 2 years ago I huffed at the clerk behind the counter and said “You’ve got to be kidding!” He said to me, curtly, “No, Miss. You look to me to be about 17 years old and you had better go get your dad.” This was actually a pretty cool thing. Now, at the rare occasion I do buy wine, I think they see my wrinkles and they just stuff the wine in a bag and take my money. No protest. No sideways-glance. I’m deflated when I leave. When I go home, the wine tastes better for some reason.

Does older mean wiser? I don’t think so. I still do dumb things like put a 20 dollar bill in the back pocket of a pair of jeans I already KNOW has a hole in them and promptly lose the bill. I always get lost while driving and always lose my car in the parking lot of our Super Walmart, no matter how I tell myself to remember where I am when I’m parking.

I still date the wrong guy. I really think there is a planet somewhere in our solar system where all the tall, good looking, employed, Knights-Of-Columbus-Member, studying-to-be-a-deacon, wouldn’t-give-up-his-catholicism-if-his-life-depended-on-it type guys are and I think once every year they import one and he is always married off immediately to someone else. I see him in church with his wife and their kids. He always wears khaki pants and is holding a 6 month old baby. And he is smiling.

I still drink too much coffee. I still listen to the same old Joni Mitchell songs. I still cry over the obituaries in the paper, especially if the person was a kid or a really, really old person. I still think that you can’t have too many babies. I still am stunned at the sunrise, especially the one I saw the other morning over the river with the trees at peak autumn majesty along its shoreline, and heavy silver mist rising through the pinks and purples it reflected.

I still like myself, which is a victory. But then again, I realize what I am liking about myself is Christ in me. Left to myself I am a wretched fool who makes much graver mistakes than losing her car in a parking lot. I still am hounded by past sorrows and losses, but I know that all things I have lost, down to that 20 dollar bill through a hole in my pocket, will be restored to me one day. Are there wrinkles in heaven? I sure hope not.

2006-11-11T09:47:00.003-05:00

I read time and again that the saints embraced the cross of Christ with both arms, fully in joy, and embraced suffering for love of Him with all their human hearts. But embracing first His crown of thorns, His humiliation and His scourging. We tend to group these Mysteries together, knowing that in reality His entire life was a life of sorrows. But they are indeed separate sorrows, and each with its own purpose. When I was younger I prayed to know Christ and to be a saint, to be counted among that holy number as the song goes. Later, I realized what I had prayed sincerely from the heart was in fact Philippians 3:10-11 :

10 that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death;
11 in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.

I was influenced by the story of Saint Catherine Labouré and the Miraculous Medal, by Mother Teresa, St. Francis of Assisi and of course, The Little Flower and many others. The glories these souls experienced were my main focus, and being naive I was enthralled by their visions and ecstasies. And even though I read equally about the sadness and sorrow in their lives, the loss of friends and family, their persecutions and personal difficulties in overcoming the world, I counted them as small battles fought and easily won in light of the intimacy they experienced in knowing Jesus. Now that I am older, and fight my own battles daily, I am faced with the very humiliating knowledge that they are in no way small or easily won. They are in fact insurmountable on my own.

When I look at Phil 3:10-11 I see now what I prayed for was to basically die to the world to which I still stubbornly and petulantly cling to with an iron grip. So it has been for me a very, very slow and painful process of dying, where all at once I am at death’s door and yet temporarily animated again by empty promises and vain pursuits. My heart is restless, this heart which every night offers all things to the Sacred Heart and prays to love as He does, and in the morning is broken and searching again for (as one catholic blogger recently put it so perfectly) “that unconditional breast upon which to lay my head in peace.”

This prayer of mine was a child’s prayer, vain, naïve, immature and overzealous. I did not know what it was that I truly wanted except for the sincerity of knowing Christ. I wanted to know Him purely, with no other intent but to love Him and it was I think for that reason the Father obliged me. Suddenly my world, my relatively normal married-with-child world became a nightmare of loss, delusion and confusion. I have only managed to move forward and raise my head through it by walking with Christ. It is a very bitter walk, and every step I take feels like it is barefoot on broken glass. At times my sense of reality has failed me, people I have trusted and love dearly have failed me, and any path I choose without Christ as guide has led me to a wilderness where I am again a child, lost, unfed, dirty and thirsting.

When I meditate on the Passion, it occurs to me that before Christ picked up the cross and made His way to Golgotha to die, He delivered Himself into the very hands of ignorance. Before His ultimate Sacrifice, He poured Himself out in shame and derision, where He was beaten until He was in His entire body an open wound. He bowed His head to receive the crown that we, in our pride and cruelty, forced upon Him. It is in the 3rd sorrowful mystery that I understand what it is to live and breathe as a Christian, and it is the hardest to accept and embody in my own life. It came to me during one meditation that all of nature was made witness to His death on the cross so that all creation could testify to it, but God in His mercy allowed the angels in heaven to turn their faces away when He was mocked and crowned with thorns, and they did so, trembling, ashamed of their very wings.

It is when our hearts, unhidden and loving freely, are scorned, mocked, abased, abused, unappreciated and even unacknowledged, that we are asked to love more, give more, and offer them in unison with the Sacred Heart in oblation. They must be broken continuously for the sake of others and for Love Himself. We mistakenly think somehow that we will reach a point in this life where there is no longer sorrow or heartbreak, but we are only promised this in the next life. If we then hold our hearts selfishly to ourselves and not yield to Divine Providence and His Holy will, we then live out a lesser heaven here that in no way resembles the majesty of what Christ has laid up for us in His heaven. I am given knowledge of these things and feel unworthy and unable to carry them out. I am incapable of controlling my own passions and failures, let alone to have heaped upon me the weight of the world’s groanings and yet I find that is exactly what the Lord has made me aware of; that the spirit that inflames cruelty today is the same spirit that inflamed it two thousand years ago. That there truly is nothing new under the sun. That we, as created beings live in a universe that was willed into being and is sustained not by us or our will, but by a God who expects of us not only a passing nod of approval, but to love him with all of our heart, soul and mind. How can we love our children or our spouse, without understanding and giving thanks that we are able to love at all because He first loved us? How can we not know that any love we feel is drawn first from the very Heart of God? Because of this, I accept that bitter crown of thorns and sit with Him in silence while the tempest rages around me.

In all appearances, Christ was offered up needlessly to the hands of corrupt and selfish men whose agenda had nothing at all to do with furthering God’s purposes. If viewed from a purely human standpoint, say that of a Roman soldier, it was basically just another day at the office. We know now that God’s ways are not ours and His thoughts not our own and we must maintain constant faith that His Hand is indeed in all things, even in the midst of the hardest cruelties and sufferings. That faith begs obedience. It begs stamina and fortitude. That the same God Who delivered Himself into our hands to be falsely accused, beaten, spit upon, stoned, mocked, crowned with thorns, humiliated, crucified and put to death begs us in every moment for our piteous and unfaithful love makes me ashamed of my pride, my own imperfect wings.

Catholic Carnival #92

2006-11-09T20:18:00.000-05:00

...is up this week at ...And If Not... . Go have a look-see and be inspired!

Shaken and Stirred

2006-11-06T13:15:00.000-05:00

I used to live in California, back in the day when I was young and big hair was still kind of “in”. I was in my glory then, as I have notoriously big hair and thus felt pretty hip. Nowadays I have to slather all kinds of cream and grease on it to get it to have that smooth, sophisticated style all the women seem to have. In a crowd, it’s easy to find me. Just look for the woman with the really frustrated hair.

I lived smack dab in the middle of the San Fernando Valley, a lovely part of Southern California, where all the Hollywood studios are and lots of famous people live. I lived, as fate would have it, just five miles away from a town called Northridge, and in 1994 Northridge was the epicenter of a very large earthquake. It was 6.7 on that mysterious machine all the scientists use to measure these things, the Richter Scale. It “hit” at about 4:30 in the morning, on Martin Luther King Day. It literally threw me and my then toddler daughter out of bed. We hit the floor, while the house shook and shimmied, and the floor rocked and felt somehow liquid-fied beneath us, and things crashed and banged and sloshed and rumbled for a period of about 15 seconds. During this 15 seconds I don’t remember much else except clutching my little girl to my chest and telling her again and again that I loved her. Because, you see, I really thought we were going to die and I wanted her to know. I think she knew, in retrospect, but at the moment it was very important that she really know. I’m sure you can relate.

When the quake finally stopped, it was chaos. For one thing, there was no moon that night. I remember that distinctly because of course the power had gone out and it was black as pitch. I can remember trying to climb over furniture that had fallen over, and broken glass, to get to my grandmother’s room next to mine and calling out to her in a panic. I remember the relief of hearing her call back, as calm as ever, “I’m alright…I’m alright…” There were, it seemed, tons of dogs barking and car alarms sounding off. I heard some people crying out and yelling. I do remember praying, especially when the first aftershock hit shortly after. An aftershock is like a mini version of the initial quake, and thousands of them happen after a big one. The three of us stood in an interior doorway, as any Californian is educated to do, while the aftershocks came and went, and prayed for daylight, and our family in the next town, and that, please God, just make the ground stay STILL.

Anyone who has ever lived through a major earthquake can tell you, it is devastating. When morning finally came, we marveled at the wreckage. We watched cars parked on the street rock back and forth slowly while the ground literally buckled with aftershocks. Our swimming pool, 30 feet from our back door, had almost emptied itself onto the back porch. My gram lost her china. A neighbor with a monkey wrench came by and turned off the gas. I remember thinking that he was very unselfish for leaving his own family to go house-to-house to make sure his neighbor’s gas was off. And I remember being grateful that we were safe. Time progressed, the power was restored, but the cities around us were broken and a lot of buildings were almost-rubble. The news gave us an accounting of the dead and injured and awful tragedies like the 3 story apartment building in Northridge that had “pancaked” into one story, flattening the people inside as they slept. A motorcycle patrolman on his late shift had driven right off the end of a freeway that had collapsed. The parks became full of families in tents who refused to go back to their apartment buildings out of fear of more quakes. We DID heal, eventually, and rebuilt. But that feeling of non-reality, and terror, didn’t leave me for a long, long time. Every time a truck would rumble by outside and shake the house, I would head for a doorway. In retrospect, I think I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I am sure many of us did.

I think about this experience when I read about the coming of the day of the Lord. Now, I’m not one to be expecting Him today or tomorrow (although, we are admonished to live every day as if His appearance were immanent and keep that lamp burning brightly.) I know no man knows the day nor the hour. But I read, in 2 Peter 3, a description of the Day of Christ’s return, from the New American Standard Bible:

8 But do not let this one fact escape your notice, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.
9 The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.
10 But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, in which the heavens will pass away with a roar and the elements will be destroyed with intense heat, and the earth and its works will be burned up.
11 Since all these things are to be destroyed in this way, what sort of people ought you to be in holy conduct and godliness,
12 looking for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be destroyed by burning, and the elements will melt with intense heat!

Natural disasters abound around us. Because of our ability to film and televise these events, we are given a first-hand look at what a Tsunami or an avalanche, a flash flood or an earthquake really is like. When the world around you is so shaken, so turned upside down, it reminds you of how very, very small you are and how large the earth is and that in reality you are in control of nothing. When we sifted through our belongings after the quake we noted what we had lost. Nowadays, I think about what I gained through this experience: humility in the knowledge that if I can’t control the ground beneath me, I had better get friendly with the Guy Who does.
When the Lord returns, it will be unexpected. The sky and the air around us will be on fire. The very foundations of nature will be burning, the foundations of all things will be melting with intense heat. To meditate on this is frightening. I am reminded of the feeling of the earth beneath my feet being dissolved into liquid, its solidity gone and gravity uprooted. I remember praying in terror that this not be the “big one” that scientists have long- predicted will eventually destroy California. I am both hopeful for Christ’s return and terrified of it, but I am, above all else, assured of it. And this fear does prompt me to be a better Christian and to cooperate with the grace given to me daily. Living through that earthquake awakened in me the reality that God “…holds in His hands the depths of the earth, and the highest mountains as well. He made the sea; it belongs to Him, the dry land too, for it was formed by His hands.”

Rant

2006-11-02T00:09:00.000-05:00

When I was recently seeking donations for a local "Walk for Life", I thought niavely that my non-Catholic christian friends would be happy to support the cause. The responses I got instead were things like,"Oh, I'd rather not. I have my own reasons." The idea of taking a stand against abortion seemed to make the women I approached uncomfortable, and the reluctant donation I did receive was mostly given to humor me out of friendship. I understand abortion is a huge issue, but I mistakenly thought that as christians we would all be like minded in knowing that the destruction of life is abhorrent to it's Author and Sustainer. Not so, sadly. It was extremely humiliating for me to realize ( me, as peaceable as one gets) I had to resist the urge to wave pictures of dead fetuses at people and accuse them of NOT being christian and instead pick up my rosary beads and pray. I had to recognize that God Himself, except for a relative handful of cases throughout history, does not infringe on our free will and choose to control us. As Our Lady has said "Pray, Pray, Pray!"

We have, as modern-day women been so duped into believing that paying a multi-billion dollar-a-year corporation, such as Planned Parenthood, to murder our unborn children somehow empowers us and gives us freedom. We have, sadly, been made to believe that in order to finally obtain "equality" in a so-called man's world, we must de-feminize ourselves, and become masculine. We have opted for a "If ya can't beat 'em, join 'em" type of resignation...and it is indeed a resignation, a sad surrender...and will continue to be until women are regarded as "equal" with regard to human rights in all of their femininity, in motherhood and in the businessworld.

Welcome to the Catholic Carnival #91

2006-10-29T14:48:00.000-05:00

Hey fellow Carnivalians...er, Carnavalistas and stos...
um...
carnivores?
I am the hostess with the mostest post-ests and I ain't afraid of no ghost-ests.
(hehehehe. I crack myself up.)

Welcome to the Halloween edition of the carnival.

Heading up this week's posts, over at The Simple Mind a great post on Genesis 1:31 by Hiyasmin R. Linatoc.

A parenthesis brings us two posts, a reflection after reading a book on St. Francis of Assisi and a book review on Catholic saints.

For a little pep talk before you hit the polls this coming election day, CatholicLand brings us a post on Voting .

HMS Blog sends along The Remnant ,
a reflection on the Mass readings for Sunday 10/29, focusing on the theological significance of Jesus’ healing of the blind man.

Writing to God, Sarah explores a difficult relationship in her life and the continuing journey of forgiveness with Letter to God and Reflection on Forgiveness . Sarah's way-awesome blog is Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering .

A Catholic Life brings us a post about the need to vote pro-life this Tuesday and information on pro-life endorsements for each state : Vote November 7th!" .

Nick over at phatcatholic apologetics writes about about the origins of Halloween, and about what the Church celebrates on and around this day. Here is Halloween and All Saints/All Souls Day.

Rifugio San Gaspare sent in this post titled A Time for Feasting . Fr. Jeffrey Keyes writes: "This week with the feast of St. Gaspar and the anniversary of ordination, it was time for feasting. The Party time concluded with the great Parish Annual Royal Feast of St. Edward the Confessor. I spent my ordination anniversary harvesting the remaining vegetables and herbs from my Garden and preparing a feast."

Surf on over to Peace! Be Still and read a rant directed towards this blogger's least favorite disfigurer of the floundering Culture of Life: Margaret Sanger: Founder of Planned Parenthood .

Wheelie Catholic writes about how God helps us find the time to do service work, even when we
think we are too Busy? with other things in our lives.

cehwiedel presents Should Catholics Vote in November? posted at Kicking Over My Traces.

Elena at My Domestic Church presents Praying for the Dead .

Christine writes: "I have two submissions for the Carnival this week. First, at Ramblings of a GOP Soccer Mom I have a post called Today’s Readings at Mass . (Original, huh?) In it, I contemplate a sentence from the second reading (Letter to the Hebrews), and ask for prayers for our priests and bishops. Also, at Domestic Vocation I have a post called Why I Have Not Left . In this post, I give reasons why our family is sticking by our parish, even if we are not pleased with the level of orthodoxy here." Blog ON, Christine!

Ales Rarus sends in Cardinal Wright Oratory Choir - Sicut Cervus. "I've posted some polyphony my old choir recorded a
couple years ago. The song I've provided the link to is one of my
favorites. The rest can be found in neighboring posts. I hope folks enjoy them all. :)"

Jay brings us two submissions, one at Living Catholicism entitled Taking a Day Off , a short meditation on resting with friends and how it can be beneficial to all and at Deo Omnis Gloria he brings us Stubbornness and the Christian Witness , Thoughts on being a good Christian witness courtesy of two little girls who understand stubbornness!

A Penitent Blogger posted Do not be deceived , a brief reflection on following Christ faithfully in a
world of rationalization.

From CatholicFire we have a special investigative report into the election campaign of Paul Morrison, "Catholic" democrat whose campaign is supported by the "blood" money of late-term abortionist George Tiller. Ironically, Morrison and his wife both serve in their Catholic parish helping prepare couples for marriage. You can read it here: Special Report: What The Secular Press Won't Tell You about “Catholic” Paul Morrison, Attorney General Candidate in Kansas .

Fellow artist Owen at Luminous Miseries finds it hard to imagine something there isn't a patron saint for. There's even one for pencil makers. More importantly, there's one for people like him; commuter bicyclists. Here's his take on it:
A saint for everything and now, this...

I had a great time hosting this week's Carnival. I wish you all a fabulous Halloween, and please remember the poor souls in purgatory and our glorious helpers in heaven this coming week. God Bless you all for sharing and evangelizing the faith through your blogs.

Some Thoughts on Suffering

2006-10-22T19:49:00.000-05:00

I’ve been reading a lot lately about suffering. I remember reading “The Story of a Soul” when I was young, the autobiography of St. Terese, The Little Flower. It was the first time I had actually delved into the writings of any saint, and she being the patron saint of young people, the book was recommended to me. I remember marveling over her desire to suffer, her absolute love of suffering for the sake of Christ. Suffering to Terese consisted of the little daily torments of convent life, such as being annoyed by the sound of another nun’s rosary beads or falling asleep during contemplative prayer. She was barely in her 20’s when she died.

I think of her when I am tired at night and trying to wrestle four chubby arms into their pajamas and smile when four chubby hands grab my hair and try to rip it out. Or I am trying to button shirts that contain 22 pounds of giggling, laughing, squirmy, almost-toddler. When we have 10 dollars left and it’s still 5 days til payday. When my washing machine refuses to spin-dry properly and Im left with soggy, soapy clothing and a puddle on the floor.

Lately, I’ve been chewing on bigger sufferings and reading bits and pieces of titles like “Abandonment To Divine Providence” by de Caussade and Julian of Norwhich’s “Revelation’s of Divine Love”. (Both can be found online here.) Again and again, I read that sufferings and trials are the surest and quickest way to sanctity. I don’t feel very sanctified when I’m cursing my washing machine or my children’s father for lack of child support. But I do see the state of the world around me, and my own interior sufferings which are no small matter (no one’s are, after all…) and I am beginning to finally recognize a spiritual precept I never “got” until just lately. We are in exile here, this being a separation from Home. As we shuffle to and thro to work, to daycare, to home, to vacation, we are living a life that is temporal and filled with joys and trials and lessons that are hard on us. The trick it seems is to remain hopeful in all cases, whether our joy is great or our suffering is great- that we offer all things to God in the same spirit of trust.

This is impossible for me-but not for God. I had a friend who once told me that she wanted to learn everything there was to know. She felt that eventually she would hit a wall where there was nothing else to understand, that she would contain all knowledge and then they would give her a turban and she would be able to levitate and stuff. I don’t know who “they” are but I thought the levitation part was cool. What’s scary is when you realize there is no wall. You can’t know everything. But you still can come to a very dark place that offers you no explanation and no instruction except to trust in God.

I deal with interior attacks of voices and sensations and have for going on 9 years now. It isn’t fun, and it sometimes makes me feel like I live a separate reality than other people. Looking back, I can see where I have held my own intellect, my own pride, in far too much esteem. So now, as I am beginning to understand God’s great mercy to me, my intellect and how I perceive the world around me has been compromised. I was married and depended heavily on my husband emotionally and well, now I’m divorced. My financial security has become instead a circus where I must leap through one hoop after another and juggle the small amount I receive in return. People I have loved very much and trusted have betrayed and abandoned me. I have had to walk in dark places alone, holding my heart together in my chest by sheer will. Just when I start thinking that drinking bleach might be the answer to my problems, I read passages like this from “Abandonment To Divine Providence”~

“My dwelling is in the pure soul as in a paradise of delights, for which reason I cannot endure that she should lovingly and longingly attach herself to anything. But, from her very nature, she is inclined to pernicious lusts, and therefore I encompass her path with thorns. I garnish all her outlets with adversity, whether she like it or not, so that she may not escape from Me; her ways I strew with tribulation, so that she may not set the foot of her heart’s desire anywhere except in the loftiness of My divine nature. And if all hearts were but one heart, they would not be able to bear even that least reward which I certainly will give for the suffering endured by anyone for love of Me.”

And further… "We want first and principally to provide for our own interests, spiritual and eternal, and as for the glory of God, in our preoccupation we give Him only the second place. God sees this subversion with a jealous eye in souls He has loaded with graces, and by which He desires to be loved with a pure and disinterested affection! and, in order to make them return to this right order of things He sends them troubles, fears and interior agitation, seeking by means of these secret trials to destroy that self-love so harmful to them. He desires to induce them by degrees to think less of themselves and their own interests, and to occupy themselves quietly with Him alone by abandoning to Him the care and management of their salvation; and this is the meaning of those words of Jesus Christ addressed to many holy souls. “My daughter, think of me and I will think of you, busy yourself for My glory, and allow Me to occupy Myself with your interests and eternal welfare.”

And of course, I can’t forget about Hosea and his wife. In Hosea 2, God fully admits His jealousy for the house of Israel, and how He intends to “hedge up her way with thorns” so that she have no other recourse than to return to Him, her first and only true love. It’s kind of Harlequin-romance-novelly, erotic and fat with love, and anyone who thinks God’s love for the soul isn’t dripping with desire has never truly encountered Him. Those that suffer greatly may feel as if God has abandoned them, and the devil will use this as a means to further discourage a soul. But we are reminded in scripture, in the Psalms that “[God] tellest all my wanderings; put Thou my tears into Thy bottle, are they not in Thy book?” In reality (and indeed God’s majesty is evident all around us in reality, and not in escapism or fantasy) God is all the more near to us when we suffer interior and exterior trials and as Julian of Norwich put it so perfectly:

“For as long as He was passible, He suffered for us and sorrowed for us, and now He is uprisen and no longer passible; yet He suffereth with us.”

Sister Mary Martha's Blog

2006-10-20T07:59:00.000-05:00

I think I'd like to nominate this lady for president. Or at least nun-of-the-year. Sister Mary Martha RAWKS!

Excerpt from "Little Book of Eternal Wisdom" by Henry Suso

2006-10-19T09:39:00.000-05:00

CHAPTER XIII. On The Immeasurable Dignity of Temporal Suffering

The Servant.—Tell me now, tender Lord, what this suffering is which Thou thinkest so very profitable and good?

Eternal Wisdom.—What I mean is every kind of suffering, whether willingly accepted or unwillingly incurred—as when a man makes a virtue of necessity in not wishing to be exempt from suffering without My will, and ordering it, in humble patience, to My eternal praise; and the more willingly he does this, the more precious and agreeable it is to Me. Touching such kinds of suffering, hear further, and write it down in the bottom of thy heart, and keep it as a sign to set before the spiritual eyes of thy soul. My dwelling is in the pure soul as in a paradise of delights, for which reason I cannot endure that she should lovingly and longingly attach herself to anything. But, from her very nature, she is inclined to pernicious lusts, and therefore I encompass her path with thorns. I garnish all her outlets with adversity, whether she like it or not, so that she may not escape from Me; her ways I strew with tribulation, so that she may not set the foot of her heart’s desire anywhere except in the loftiness of My divine nature. And if all hearts were but one heart, they would not be able to bear even that least reward which I certainly will give for the suffering endured by anyone for love of Me. Such is My eternal order in all nature, from which I do not swerve; what is precious and good must be earned with bitterness; he who recoils at thus, let him recoil; many are indeed called, but few are chosen.

The Servant.—It may well be, Lord, that suffering is an infinite good, provided it be not without measure, and not too dreadful and overwhelming. Lord, Thou alone knowest all hidden things, and didst create all things in weight, in number and measure; Thou knowest also that my sufferings are measureless, that they are wholly beyond my strength. Lord, is there anyone in all this world who has constantly more painful sufferings than I? They are to me invincible—how am I to endure them? Lord, if Thou wouldst send me ordinary sufferings, I could bear them, but I do not see how I can ever endure such extraordinary sufferings as these—sufferings which in so hidden a manner oppress my heart and soul, which only Thou canst perfectly understand.

Eternal Wisdom.—Every sick man imagines that his own sickness is the worst, and every man in distress, his own distress the greatest. Had I sent thee other sufferings it would have been the same. Conform thyself freely to My will under every pain which I ordain thee to suffer, without excepting this or the other suffering. Dost thou not know that I only desire what is best for thee, even with as kindly a feeling as thou thyself? Hence it is that I am the Eternal Wisdom, and that I know better than thou what is for thy good. Hence it is that thou mayst have felt that the sufferings which I send are much more exquisite, and penetrate deeper, and operate better, for him who does them justice, than all self-chosen sufferings. Why then dost thou so complain to Me? Address Me rather as follows: O my most faithful Father, do to me at all times what Thou wilt!

The Servant.—O Lord, it is so easy to talk, but the reality is so difficult to endure, for it is so very painful.

Eternal Wisdom.—If suffering gave no pain, it could not be called suffering. There is nothing more painful than suffering, and nothing more joyful than to have suffered. Suffering is a short pain and a long joy. Suffering gives to the sufferer pain here and joy hereinafter. Suffering kills suffering. Suffering is ordained that the sufferer may not suffer eternally. Hadst thou so much spiritual sweetness and divine consolation and heavenly delight as, at all times, to overflow with the divine dew, it would not be for thee so very meritorious of itself, since, for all this together, I should not have to thank thee so much; it could not exculpate thee so much as an affectionate suffering or patience in adversity, in which thou sufferest for My sake. Sooner will ten be perverted and ruined in the midst of a great delight and joyous sweetness than one in the midst of constant suffering and adversity. If thou hadst as much science as all the astronomers, if thou couldst discourse as ably of God as all the tongues of men and angels, and didst possess the treasures of knowledge of all the masters, not all this could avail to advance thee in a good life, so much as if thou didst give thyself up, and didst abandon thyself in all thy sufferings to God; for the former is common to the good and the bad, but the latter is proper to My elect alone. If anyone were able rightly to weigh time and eternity, he ought rather to desire to lie in a fiery furnace for a hundred years than to be deprived in eternity of the smallest reward for the smallest suffering; for this has an end, but the other is without end.

The Servant.—Ah, sweet and dear Lord, how like a sweet harp are these words to a suffering mortal! Lord, Lord, wouldst Thou but cheer me thus and come to visit me in my sufferings, I should be glad to suffer; it would then be better for me to suffer than not to suffer.

Eternal Wisdom.—Now, then, hearken to the sweet music of the distended strings of that Divine harp—a God-suffering man—how richly it sounds, how sweetly it vibrates. Before the world, suffering is a reproach, but before Me it is an infinite honour. Suffering is an extinguisher of My wrath, and an obtainer of My favour. Suffering makes a man in My sight worthy of love, for the sufferer is like Me. Suffering is a hidden treasure which no one can make good; and though a man might kneel before Me a hundred years to beg a friendly suffering, he nevertheless would not earn it. Suffering changes an earthly man into a heavenly man. Suffering brings with it the estrangement of the world, but confers, instead, My intimate familiarity. It lessens delight and increases grace. He to whom I am to show Myself a friend, must be wholly disclaimed and abandoned by the world. Suffering is the surest way, the nearest way, and the shortest way. He who rightly knows how profitable suffering is, ought to receive it as a gift worthy of God. Oh, how many a man there is who once was a child of eternal death, and plunged in the profoundest sleep, whom suffering has wakened up and encouraged to a good life. How many a wild beast, how many an untamed bird, there is in human form, whom constant suffering has shut up, as it were, in a cage, who, if any one were to leave him time and place free, would do his best to escape from his salvation. Suffering is a safeguard against grievous falls; it makes a man know himself, rely on himself, and have faith in his neighbour. Suffering keeps the soul humble and teaches patience. It is the guardian of purity, and confers the crown of eternal salvation. There is probably no man living but who derives good from suffering, whether he be in a state of sin, or on the eve of conversion, or in the fruition of grace, or on the summit of perfection; for it purges the soul as fire purges iron and purifies gold; it adorns the wrought jewel. Suffering takes away sin, lessens the fire of purgatory, expels temptation, consumes imperfections, and renovates the spirit. It imparts true confidence, a clear conscience, and constant loftiness of mind. Know that it is a healthy beverage, and a wholesome herb above all the herbs of paradise. It chastises the body which, at any rate, must rot away, but it nourishes the noble soul which shall endure for ever. Behold, the noble soul blooms by suffering even as the beautiful rose by the fresh dews of May! Suffering makes a wise mind and an experienced man. A man who has not suffered what does he know? Suffering is affection’s rod, a paternal blow given to My elect. Suffering draws and forces men to God, whether they like it or not. He who is always cheerful in suffering, has for his servants joy and sorrow, friend and foe. How often hast thou not thrust an iron bit between the gnashing teeth of thy enemies, and rendered them, with thy joyous praise, and thy meekness in suffering, powerless? Sooner would I create suffering out of nothing than leave my friends unprovided with it; for in suffering, every virtue is preserved, man adorned, his neighbour reformed, and God praised. Patience in suffering is a living sacrifice, it is a sweet smell of balsam before My divine face, it is an appealing wonder before the entire host of heaven. Never was a skillful knight in a tournament so gazed at as a man who suffers well is gazed at by all the heavenly court. All the saints are on the side of the suffering man; for, indeed, they have all partaken of it before him, and they call out to him with one voice that it contains no poison, but is a wholesome beverage. Patience in suffering is superior to raising the dead, or the performing of other miracles. It is a narrow way which leads direct to the gates of heaven. Suffering makes us companions of the martyrs, it carries honour with it, and leads to victory against every foe. Suffering clothes the soul in garments of rose colour, and in the brightness of purple; in suffering she wears the garland of red roses, and carries the sceptre of green palms. Suffering is for her as a shining ruby in a young maiden’s necklace. Adorned with it, she sings with a sweet voice and a free heart a new song which not all the angelic choirs could ever sing, because they never knew suffering. And, to be short, those who suffer are called the poor before the world, but before Me they are called the blessed, for they are My elect.

From Revelations of Divine Love- Julian of Norwich:

And for every man’s sin that shall be saved He suffered: and every man’s sorrow and desolation He saw, and sorrowed for Kindness and love. (For in as much as our Lady sorrowed for His pains, in so much He suffered sorrow for her sorrow;—and more, in as greatly as the sweet manhood of Him was worthier in Kind.) For as long as He was passible He suffered for us and sorrowed for us; and now He is uprisen and no more passible, yet He suffereth with us.

Catholic Carnival For the Week of Oct 9

2006-10-12T01:59:00.000-05:00

Catholic Carnival 88 has some great posts. Good to know I'm not the only one up in the middle of the night pondering...

Just When I Was Going To Stop Reading The Newspaper...

2006-10-07T17:54:00.000-05:00

I like having the daily paper delivered. Besides the way-cool Sunday coupon inserts and the "Get Fuzzy" cartoon I am a raving fan of...( a guy and his neurotic dog and cat...ok, well, it works for me...) I do read the news, although after millioneth bad-news, multi-person, family homicide story, I started to wonder whether it was worth reading anymore. When I found myself in tears, on the floor, clutching my infant twins and praying for their safety in this chaotic world where, according to the newspaper, every outing to Walmart is a gamble where Joe Schmoe from Idaho could be planning a massacre with a variety of firearms, I realized it might be time to start checking out my cartoon on the Internet instead. But this morning I was actually INSPIRED by the news and not because the Tennessee Volunteers won (which they will tonight...because they RAWK!) but because of a little nun named Sister Mary Dennis Lentsch who came home to our town on a Greyhound bus after serving a 6-month sentence in Federal prison on tresspassing charges.

Sister Mary and about 30 others crossed a fence at Ft. Benning, GA during a protest against a training center they blame for human-rights violations in Latin America. She said she'd do it again if she had the chance. Did I mention that she is 69 years old? "I really believe that everything we do makes a difference," she said. "Sometimes it's something so little. We just have to keep working for peace and justice."

If that weren't enough to inspire me to "Be not afraid" in my own battles, I then read about the funeral services for five little Amish girls who were killed by a gunman who was "angry with God." I am inspired by 13-year old Marian Fisher who, bound by the gunman along with the other girls and her younger sister, asked that he "Shoot me and leave the other ones loose." It made me wonder how she could have been so brave, just a baby at 13 years of age. Reading further, I began to understand. One Amish woman told the Los Angeles Times "I am very grateful thatI was raised to believe that you don't fight back. You should forgive." According to Amish belief, you can't be healed unless you forgive. They believe that vengeance is indeed God's and that forgiveness is necessary. And compassion. 13 year old Marian Fisher was raised to believe in God's word and because of that, she faced death willingly in the hope that the other girls with her would be spared. "No greater love hath a man than this...than to lay down one's life for one's friends." When I think about how afraid I am of so many things, I think of christians like Sister Mary Dennis and Marian Fisher, both from different faiths, one 13 years old and the other almost 70, both strengthened by Christ and defiant of the adverse spirit of this world, knowing that through Him we can do all things.

2006-10-04T01:52:00.000-05:00

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away: God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Whoever has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices.
~St.Teresa De Avila~

Psalms 16: 1 - 2, 5, 7 - 8, 11
1
Preserve me, O God, for in thee I take refuge.
2
I say to the LORD, "Thou art my Lord; I have no good apart from thee."
5
The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; thou holdest my lot.
7
I bless the LORD who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me.
8
I keep the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.
11
Thou dost show me the path of life; in thy presence there is fulness of joy, in thy right hand are pleasures for evermore.

Galatians 6: 14 - 18
17
Henceforth let no man trouble me; for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.

Being Raised Catholic

2006-09-29T05:54:00.000-05:00

I am one of the minority of people my age who was raised in an abuse-free, relatively peaceful home. I was raised as an only child by my paternal grandparents who loved and treasured me to the point of spoiling me rotten. They raised me on a small living, and although most of clothing and toys were thrift store bargains, I never suffered for lack of feeling wanted and enjoyed.

They were always home when I came home from school and there was always something cooking on the stove. The house was modest and clean. They always dropped what they were doing to ask me how my day was. They fed me well and taught me to play Canasta and always looked me in the eye and paid attention. They were amazing parents and what made them amazing is that, at retirement age when other folks chose to travel and relax from raising children and the daily drudge of family concerns, my grandparents chose instead to raise me.

Living with older folks can be an adventure. I went to kindergarden thinking the fridge was an "ice box" and the couch was a "divan" and knowing all the words to songs like Mac The Knife. I knew who the Maguire Sisters were but had never heard of the Pointer Sisters. This made me feel special, like knowing a secret language no one else my age knew. But as I grew older and hit the teen years, my grandfather passed away and my poor grandma was left holding my rebellious hand alone. We both survived somehow. My gram is now closing in on 92 years and I am at my 36th birthday. She has been at my side through the birth of my eldest daughter, my marriage and divorce, and has seen me through personal suffering that has broken both of our hearts. She is an amazing lady and still my gentle, peaceful and very Catholic best-friend, even though we live across the country from one another. The greatest gift of all the countless gifts she has given me is my Catholic faith.

My grandmother made sure I attended Sunday Mass and even though she could not afford to send me to parochial school, she did make sure I went to CCD, and "made" all the sacraments. It is through her sacrifices that I learned about the work of love and that it is often difficult and feels unrewarding. It is through mothering my own children thatI have learned about loss and carrying our crosses daily. And with this, something the saints have always written about and what confuses so many good non-catholic christians, is the joy of giving of yourself, loving until it really hurts.

Real love does not require recipriciocity, nor does it expect it as a reward. It's fufillment is in loving itself.

2006-09-25T17:57:00.000-05:00

"True obedience is a genuine act of love. Obedience makes us practice the other virtues. It likens us to martyrs, for it is a much greater martyrdom to persevere in obedience all through life than to die in a moment by a stroke of the sword." ~Bl. Mother Teresa of Calcutta~

2006-09-22T08:09:00.000-05:00

Luke 8: 1 - 3
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 Soon afterward he went on through cities and villages, preaching and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with him,
2 and also some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Mag'dalene, from whom seven demons had gone out...

Recently, I had lunch with one of our parish priests at a well-known buffet. Fr. William is Nigerian and his skin is beautiful and very dark- almost as dark as his black shirt and pants. His white collar in contrast looks like a beacon from yards away and there is no mistaking him for a delivery guy or a construction worker. As we clutched our melamine dinner plates and moved bovinely toward the buffet tables, smiling and talking, in front of us was a young mother herding 3 rambunctious blond-headed boys, the youngest of which was no more than 3 years old and had the unfortunate name "Evil".

"No, Evil! This way!" the mother barked, as the boy began to wander away from the trough. She poked him for emphasis. Immediately I thought of that grand 70's stunt guy, Evil Kinevel and imagined she was a fan or perhaps a relative. "Hold your plate UP, Evil!" the mother yelled, exasperated, as the food she had been lopping onto his plate slid off and onto the floor. Evil grinned at us, showing two missing front teeth. Upon noticing Fr. William, his mother's eyes opened wide in suprise. She looked at us apologetically and said, "His name isn't really Evil. It's Levi. But sometimes I wonder if I just spelled it wrong."

I wonder about those seven demons that were cast out of Mary Magdalene. Catholic tradition groups her with the woman who sat at Christ's feet and wept in repentance, washing His feet with her tears and drying them with her hair. She had been a prostitute and apparently well-known. To me, Mary Magdalen is representative of each one of us. We whore ourselves out to the world and in exchange for it's goods we pledge ourselves to it, at least for an interval of time. We make all kinds of "deals with the devil". Along with this, we practice greed, gluttony, lust, envy, anger, sloth and pride. When these things no longer satisfy or, as in Mary's case, when we come face-to-face with Christ and experience a true conversion, we also come face-to-face with our own sinfulness and thus repentance.

Mary's demons were the demons that afflict every soul, the passions that throughout the ages the great saints have extolled us to master in order to possess the Kingdom. It follows that if indeed the Kingdom of Heaven is within us and we are to seek it first and know that all things will then be added unto us that we begin our work in releasing these seven demons and casting them out, purging ourselves of the weight of the world. This is hard work and cannot be done without Christ, who strengthens us and through Whom we can do all things. Basically, it starts with us saying "Yes, Lord". It is also a continuous process and not a destination for as long as we are human we are constantly in battle against ourselves and the spirit of the world which is contrary to and works against the Holy Spirit.

Catholic Carnival For the Week of Sept 18

2006-09-19T05:03:00.000-05:00

Hey, check out this week's Catholic Carnival at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering. Sarah was cool enough to include my last post, even. Which means I can forgive her for being an Ohio fan. (Go VOLS!)

Don't Get Me Started: On The Offensiveness of Being Offended

2006-09-18T10:48:00.000-05:00

I am reading today about Pope Benedict's recent remarks regarding Muslims and the terribly predictable outrage from the Muslim people in response. Pope Benedict then issued a "sort-of" apology, which again outraged the Muslims. The Pope then again apologized. Yep, the Muslims are still outraged.

I guess the gist of this story is that the Pope quoted a 14th-Century Christian emperor who said Muhammad had brought the world only "evil and inhuman" things. Now an AL-Queda group is vowing to take over Rome and burning pope pictures. In a related event, I havent gotten any mail for the last 3 mail days.

The lady next door is in a tiff with our Post-Mistress (although I suppose since the woman who brings the mail is over 40 she might actually be a "post-Maiden". Sorry. Couldn't help it.) The argument stems from my neighbor's and my shared porch, which sits in between our two apartments. Although both the neighbor and I have completely different street numbers as addresses, we live in what is commonly known as a four-plex. She has 4 stairs that lead from the sidewalk to her door and directly to the left of her door is her mailbox. My apartment is the same. In between our doors is a small porch that measures roughly about 5 feet long by 3 feet wide. The landlady has placed 2 forest green plastic arrandack chairs in this area, for our use. Alas, herein lies the problem.

Apparently the Post-Mistress is getting tired. Either that or she has bad knees. At any rate, she has apparently decided to use the porch between our apartment doors as a sort of "short-cut" between our mail boxes. This saves her having to climb the 4 stairs to my neighbor's mailbox and then decend them, walk 5 feet to the right, climb my 4 stairs to my mailbox and then decend them. I came outside to gather my mail one day last week and found a notice from the post-mistress stating that she was unable to deliver my mail because of "an obstruction in her path". I looked around in bewilderment for this obstruction and found none, except he same 2 green chairs that have been on our porch for 3 years. Because of this, coupled with the fact that the notice was, ironically, IN my mailbox, I became ...well, I was rather outraged.
After all, I need my mail.

On Saturday, early in the morning, I stepped out onto my porch with my 11 month old son in my arms and found a representative from the local post office at my neighbor's door. Upon asking if I might be of some help, she stated that the green chairs had to be removed. Tossed. They had to just disappear. The Post-Mistress had been authorized by the Post Office to use "any and all available short-cuts on her route" and our two green chairs were an obstruction.
I was offended. I became... well, I was rather outraged. I protested, saying that the porch was actually a seating area. The woman shook her head and stated that there were 50 thousand gazillion addresses that had to be delivered to daily and that those extra 4 stairs were seriously compromising mail delivery. My son gasped in my arms. I believe he was...well, I swear I could clearly see outrage on his tiny brow.

Shifting his chubby girth from one hip to another rather abruptly, I told the representative that I felt she was in error, as my neighbor's numeric address is 125 and my own is 123 and not simply one address with 2 separate apartment numbers. She shook her head. I stated that if there were, say, a partition between us, the post mistress would have to ascend and descend the 2 sets of stairs anyway. She shook her head. In almost desperation, thinking selfishly of my subscription to Woman's Day and the killer Halloween Crafts issue forthcoming, I stammered "But...but what about the whole" through rain and hail and sleet and snow" and ...all that? I mean, isn't it illegal to with-hold our mail simply because the post person is LAZY???" She pursed her lips and shook her head. I was, by this time, really, really outraged. I actually was considering storming the post office with my infant twins and burning a copy of the post office delivery persons hippocratic oath or whatever it is they vow when they take the mail bag exam.

My son began to cry. I felt my own bottom lip beginning to tremble. The representative looked at my slyly and leaned forward in a confidential "just between you and me" manner. In a hushed tone she said,"I think I can solve your problem." She then, very carefully, slid both green chairs against the wall, leaving about a foot and a half pathway along the outer space of the porch. "Good day." She smiled coyly at me, and left. My son stopped crying. The sun suddenly burst out from behind some clouds. I think I actually heard birds singing.

Maybe I will get my Woman's Day Halloween Edition after all.

On my way to where I was headed, which just happened to be a local "Walk For Life" Pro-life event, I thought about how easily offended we can be, what babies we really are, when someone says or does something we don't like. I began to take inventory of where my own personal outrages lie:

I am outraged that 4400 people every day are murdered in this country before they even have the chance to take their first breath outside the womb and have no laws protecting or ensuring their safety or survival.

I am outraged that, according to Kevin Bales of "Free the Slaves", an international organization and lobby group that fights modern slavery, although exact numbers are hard to gauge, there are an estimated 27 million human beings held in slavery around the world, including the United States.

I am outraged that there are up to 3.5 million Americans who will experience homelessness each year and that fully 40 percent-nearly half that number- are children. This is in a country that brags to be the richest country in the world.

These, to me and in my humble opinion, are far greater outrages and call for action far more loudly than an opposing religious opinion QUOTED no less from an ancient document in the press. I understand the Muslim people feel they have been mis-represented by the Pope. The Pope quoted the Christian emporer as stating "Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached." Now they are burning the Pope's picture and vow to storm Rome and over take it. Wait...isn't that JUST EXACTLY what the Pope quoted?

By the way, last night I moved the chairs back to their original positions. I am one who is willing to suffer hardships in order to prove my point, thank you very much. After all, outrage is outrage. I am going to go and buy my Woman's Day Halloween Crafts Edition at Wal Mart and then I am going to sit on my green chair on my porch and read it cover to cover while I wait for the Post Mistress to show up. I want an apology, darn it.

Well, that and my phone bill should be coming in the mail.....

Good Weekend

2006-09-17T20:57:00.000-05:00

It was an interesting and faith-affirming weekend for me. Saturday the twins and I participated in a "Walk For Life" held at a local pro-life pregnancy clinic here in town. Today I made it to 10 am mass and spent a few hours helping Barbara organize her craft room at the church. Tonight I had dinner with Lynn and the babies were in such good moods all day long. I didn't even take a nap today (whoa nelly!) and it is 10 pm and I'm still going.

I am still doing my novenas and Liturgy of the Hours. Getting ready to try and quit smoking again. I added the Novena to Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta to the list.

Spiritual Progress

2006-09-14T06:34:00.000-05:00

So soon as thou shalt firmly resolve to mortifie thy external senses, that thou may’st advance towards the high mountain of perfection, and union with God; His divine Majesty will set his hand to the purging of thy evil inclinations, inordinate desires, vain complacency, self-love and pride, and other hidden vices, which thou knowest not, and yet reign in the inner parts of thy Soul, and hinder the divine union.
43. Thou’lt never attain to this happy state, though thou tire thy self out with the external acts of mortifications and resignation, until this Lord purge thee inwardly, and discipline thee, after his own way, because he alone knows how secret faults are to be purged out. If thou persevere constantly, he’ll not only purge thee from affections and engagements to natural and temporal goods, but in his own time also he will purifie thee with the supernatural and sublime, such as are internal communications; inward raptures and extasies, and other infused graces, on which the Soul rests and enjoys it self.
44. God will do all this in thy Soul by means of the cross, and dryness, if thou freely giveth thy consent to it by resignation, and walking through those darksom and desart ways. All thou hast to do, is to do nothing by thy own choice alone. The subjection of thy liberty, is that which thou oughtest to do, quietly resigning thy self up in every thing whereby the Lord shall think fit internally and externally to mortifie thee: because that is the only means, by which thy Soul can become capable of the divine influences, whil’st thou sufferest internal and external tribulation, with humility, patience, and quiet; not the penances, disciplines and mortifications, which thou couldest impose upon thy self.

~”Spiritual Guide Which Disentangles the Soul” by Michael de Molinos 1628-1696~

Still Smoking....

2006-09-13T03:05:00.000-05:00

Well, I am on the 4th day of my Novenas. I am still smoking, but not disheartened. I figure this attempt to quit is just one in what will be a long series of attempts to quit- eventually I will get so tired of failing to quit that I'll quit for good. Or something like that. Anyway, I haven't given up and will try again when I feel I'm mentally ready.

On a brighter note, I have written my own Novena to God the Father to begin the 126 day Novena schedule, mainly out of necessity as I couldn't find one on the net, aside from the Divine Mercy Novena. Yesterday, I met a woman at church who is directing the yearly "Walk For Life" this Saturday. I am going to be walking with the twins and maybe eventually working with her making baskets and drying flowers for sale for fundraising. I even got 10 minutes in for Adoration in front of the Blessed Sacrament; the babies took a short nap while I picked up forms and dropped off some food for donation (yay)!

Last Sunday, I ended up going to lunch after Mass with Ed's mom, brother and Fr. William from St. Mary's. Don't think Ed and I are going to last, but it was nice to meet his mom and one of our priests.

14 Novenas In 18 Weeks

2006-09-08T05:39:00.000-05:00

I am trying to psych myself into quitting smoking. I've got the right motivation, but I am really surprised at how frightening the idea of being without my cigs is. I know it is a psychological thing- I started smoking when I was 13 and they have been through thick and thin with me. Thing is, I know they are an obstacle in my spiritual life. I depend on them for relaxation and comfort, when I should not be placing anything above Christ. Secondly, I know how much damage I am doing to my body by smoking. Not good for the kids to see me or be around me smoking. And then there is the cost- why am I paying money to kill myself?

This Monday it will be 5 years since the 9/11 attack on New York. On Monday, in remembrance of the 3000 people that died (and all those who have sufferred torture and terrorism), I am going to start a series of 9 day novenas and "fast" from smoking. It will be an 18 week prayer schedule that will lead me through Advent and into the new year. By January 15 I hope to have completed 14 Novenas and 126 days smoke-free.

My Novena schedule:

1. Monday September 11 through Tuesday September 19: Novena to God the Father.
2. Wednesday September 20 through Friday September 29: Novena to The Sacred Heart.
3. Saturday September 30 through Sunday October 8:Holy Spirit Novena
4. Monday October 9 through Wednesday October 18: Novena to The Immaculate Conception.
5. Thursday October 19 through Friday October 27: Novena to St. Joseph.

6. Saturday October 28 through Sunday November 5: Holy Souls Novena.
7. Monday November 6 through Tuesday November 14: Novena to St. Max Kolbe.
8. Wednesday November 15 through Thursday November 23: Novena to St. Edith Stein.
9. Friday November 24 through Saturday December 2: Novena to St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta.
10. Sunday December 3 through Monday December 11: Novena to St. Francis of Assisi.
11. Tuesday December 12 through Wednesday December 20: Our Lady of Guadalupe Novena.
12. Thursday December 21 through Friday December 29: Holy Family Novena.
13. Saturday December 30 through Sunday January 7: St. Terese of the Child Jesus.
14: Sunday January 8 through Tuesday January 16: Novena to Padre Pio.

Human Rights

2006-09-06T19:45:00.000-05:00

"When all the prisoners of the land are crushed under foot,
when human rights are perverted in the presence of the Most High,
when one's case is subverted- Does our God not see it?
My eyes flow with rivers of tears because of the destruction of my people.
My eyes will flow without ceasing, without respite, until God from heaven looks down and sees." Lamentations 3:34-36, 48-50

On The Sinful Woman ~Ephraim the Syrian~

2006-09-06T07:33:00.000-05:00

ON THE SINFUL WOMAN. 1. Hear and be comforted, beloved, how merciful is God. To the sinful woman He forgave her offences; yea, He upheld her when she was afflicted.

Simon invited Him to the feast, to eat bread in his house.(3) The sinful woman rejoiced when she heard that He sat and was feasting in Simon's house; her thoughts gathered together like the sea, and like the billows her love surged. She beheld the Sea of Grace, how it had forced itself into one place; and she resolved to go and drown all her wickedness in its billows. 2. She bound her heart, because it had offended, with chains and tears of suffering; and she began weeping(with herself): "What avails me this fornication? What avails this lewdness? I have defiled the innocent ones without shame; I have corrupted the orphan; and without fear I have robbed the merchants of merchandise, and my rapacity was not satisfied. I have been as a bow in war, and have slain the good and the bad. I have been as a storm on the sea, and have sunk the ships of many. Why did I not win me one man, who might have corrected my lewdness? For one man is of God, but many are of Satan." 3. These things she inwardly said; then began she to do outwardly. She washed and put away from her eyes the dye that blinded them that saw it. And tears gushed forth from her eyes over that deadly eyepaint.(1) She drew off and cast from her hands the enticing bracelets of her youth. She put off and cast away from her body the tunic of fine linen of whoredom, and resolved to go and attire herself in the tunic the garment of reconciliation. She drew off and cast from her feet the adorned sandals of lewdness; and directed the steps of her going in the path of the heavenly Eagle. She took up her gold in her palm and held it up to the face of heaven, and began to cry secretly, to Him who hears openly: "This, O Lord, that I have gained from iniquity, with it will I purchase to myself redemption. This which was gathered from orphans, with it will I win the Lord of orphans." 4. These things she said secretly; then began to do openly. She took up the gold in her palm, and carried the alabaster box in her hands. Then hastily went she forth in sadness to the perfumer. The perfumer saw her and wondered, and fell into questioning with her; and thus he began to say to the harlot in the first words he spoke: "Was it not enough for thee, harlot, that thou hast corrupted all our town? What means this fashion that thou showest today to thy lovers--that thou hast put off thy wantonness and hast clothed thyself in modesty? Heretofore, when thou camest to me, thy aspect was different from today's. Thou wast clothed in goodly raiment, and didst bring little gold; and didst ask for precious ointment, to make thy lewdness pleasant. But lo! today thy vesture is mean, and thou hast brought much gold. Thy change I understand not; wherefore is this fashion of thine? Either clothe thee in raiment according to thy ability, or buy ointment according to thy clothing. For this ointment becomes not or is suited to this attire. Can it be that a merchant has met thee, and brings great wealth; and thou hast seen that he loves it not, the fashion of thy lewdness? So thou hast put off thy lewdness and hast clothed thyself in meekness, that by various fashions thou mayest capture much wealth. But if he loves this fashion because he is a chaste man in truth, then woe to him! Into what has he fallen? Into a gulf that has swallowed up his merchandise. But I give thee advice, as a man that desires thy welfare, that thou send away thy many lovers who have helped thee nought from thy youth, and henceforth seek out one husband who may correct thy lewdness." 5. These things spake the perfumer, in wisdom, to the harlot. The sinful woman answered and said to him, to the perfumer after his discourse, "Hinder me not, O man, and stop me not by thy questioning. I have asked of thee ointment, not freely, but I will pay thee its value not grudgingly. Take thee the gold, as much as thou demandest, and give me the precious ointment; take thee that which endures not and give me that which endures; and I will go to Him who endures, and will buy that which endures. And as to that thou saidst, about a merchant; a Man has met me today Who bears riches in abundance. He has robbed me and I have robbed Him; He has robbed me of my transgressions and sins, and I have robbed Him of His wealth. And as to that thou saidst of a husband; I have won me a Husband in heaven, Whose dominion stands for ever, and His kingdom shall not be dissolved?" She took up the ointment and went forth. 6. In haste went she forth; as Satan saw her and was enraged; and was greatly grieved in his mind. At one time he rejoiced, and again at another he was grieved. That she carried the perfumed oil, he rejoiced in his inward mind; but that she was clad in mean raiment--at this doing of hers he was afraid. He clave then to her and followed her, as a robber follows a merchant. He listened to the murmurs of her lips, to hear the voice of her words. He closely watched her eyeballs(to mark) whither the glance of her eyes was directed; and as he went he moved by her feet(to mark) whither her goings were directed. Very full of craft is Satan, from our words to learn our aim. Therefore our Lord has taught us not to raise our voice when we pray, that the Devil may not hear our words and draw near and become our adversary. So then, when Satan saw that he could not change her mind, he clothed himself in the fashion of a man, and drew to himself a crowd of youths, like her lovers of former times; and then began he thus to address her: "By thy life, O woman, tell me whither are thy footsteps directed? What means this haste? For thou hasteth more than other days. What means this thy meekness, for thy soul is meek like a handmaid's? Instead of garments of fine linen, lo! thou art clothed in sordid weeds; instead of bracelets of gold and silver, there are not even rings on thy fingers; instead of goodly sandals for thy feet, not even worn shoes are on thy feet. Disclose to me all thy doing, for I understand not thy change. Is it that some one of thy lovers has died, and thou goest to bury him? We will go with time to the funeral, and with thee will(take part with thee) in sorrow." 7. The sinful woman answered and said to him, (even) to Satan, after his speech: "Well hast thou said that I go to inter the dead, one that has died to me. The sin of my thoughts has died, and I go to bury it." Satan answered and said to her,(even) to the sinful woman after her words: "Go to, O woman, I tell thee that I am the first of thy lovers. I am not such as thou, and I place my hands upon thee. I will give thee again more gold than before." 8. The sinful woman answered and said to him, even to Satan after his discourse: "I am wearied of thee, O man, and thou art no more my lover. I have won me a husband in heaven, Who is God, that is over all, and His dominion stands for ever, and His kingdom shall not be dissolved. For lo! in thy presence I say; I say it again and I lie not. I was a handmaid to Satan from my childhood unto this day. I was a bridge, and he trode upon me, and I destroyed thousands of men. The eyepaint blinded my eyes, and(I was) blind among many whom I blinded. I became sightless and knew not that there is One Who gives light to the sightless. Lo! I go to get light for mine eyes, and by that light to give light to many. I was fast bound, and knew not that there is One Who overthrows idols. Lo! I go to have my idols destroyed, and so to destroy the follies of many. I was wounded and knew not that there is One Who binds up wounds; and lo! I go to have my wounds bound." These things the harlot spake to Satan in her wisdom; and he groaned and was grieved and wept; and he cried aloud and thus he spake:--"I am conquered by thee, O woman, and what I shall do I know not." 9. As soon as Satan perceived that he could not change her mind, he began to weep for himself and thus it was that he spake: "Henceforth is my boasting perished, and the pride of all my days. How shall I lay for her a snare, for her who is ascending on high? how shall I shoot arrows at her,(even) at her whose wall is unshaken? Therefore I go into Jesus' presence; lo! she is about to enter His presence; and I shall say to Him thus: "This woman is an harlot." Perchance He may reject and not receive her. And I shall say to Him thus: "This woman who comes into Thy presence is a woman that is an harlot. She has led captive men by her whoredom; she is polluted from her youth. But Thou, O Lord, art righteous; all men throng to see Thee. And if mankind see Thee that Thou hast speech with the harlot, they all will flee from Thy presence, and no man will salute Thee." 10. These things Satan spake within himself, nor was he moved.(2) Then he changed the course of his thought, and thus it was that he spake. "How shall I enter into Jesus' presence, for to Him the secret things are manifest? He knows me, who I am, that no good office is my purpose. If haply He rebuke me I am undone, and all my wiles will be wasted. I will go to the house of Simon, for secret things are not manifest to him. And into his heart I will put it; perchance on that hook he may be caught. And thus will I say unto him: By thy life, O Simon, tell me; this man that sojourns in thy house is he a man that is righteous, or a friend of the doers of wickedness? I am a wealthy man, and a man that has possessions, and I wish like thee to invite him that he may come in and bless my possessions." 11. Simon answered and thus he said to the Evil One after his words: "From the day that (first) I saw Him I have seen no lewdness in Him, but rather quietness and peace, humility and seemliness. The sick He heals without reward, the diseased He freely cures. He approaches and stands by the grave, and calls, and the dead arise. Jairus(2) called Him to raise his daughter to life, trusting that He could raise her to life. And as He went with him in the way, He gave healing to the woman diseased, who laid hold of the hem of His garment and stole healing from Him, and her pain which was hard and bitter at once departed from her. He went forth to the desert and saw the hungry,(3) how they were fainting with famine. He made them sit down on the grass, and fed them in His mercy. In the ship He slept(4) as He willed, and the sea swelled against the disciples. He arose and rebuked the billows, and there was a great calm. The widow,(5) the desolate one who was following her only son, on the way to the grave He consoled her. He gave him to her and gladdened her heart. To one man who was dumb and blind,(6) by His voice He brought healing. The lepers He cleansed by His word; to the limbs of the palsied(7) He restored strength. For the blind man,(8) afflicted and weary, He opened his eyes and he saw the light. And for two others who besought Him,(9) at once He opened their eyes. As for me, thus have I heard the fame of the man from afar; and I called Him to bless my possessions, and to bless all my flocks and herds." 12. Satan answered and said to him, to Simon after his words: "Praise not a man at his beginning, until thou learnest his end; hitherto this man is sober and his soul takes not pleasure in wine. If he shall go forth from thy house, and holds not converse with an harlot, then he is a righteous man and no friend of them that do wickedness." Such things did Satan speak in his craftiness to Simon. Then he approached and stood afar off, to see what should come to pass. 13. The sinful woman full of transgressions stood clinging by the door. She clasped her arms in prayer, and thus she spake beseeching:--"Blessed Son Who hast descended to earth for the sake of man's redemption, close not Thy door in my face; for Thou hast called me and lo! I come. I know that Thou hast not rejected me; open for me the door of Thy mercy, that I may come in, O my Lord, and find refuge in Thee, from the Evil One and his hosts! I was a sparrow, and the hawk pursued me, and I have fled and taken refuge in Thy nest. I was a heifer, and the yoke galled me, and I will turn back my wanderings to Thee. Lay upon me the shoulder of Thy yoke that I may take it on me, and work with Thy oxen." Thus did the harlot speak at the door with much weeping. The master of the house looked and saw her, and the colour of his visage was changed; and he began thus to address her, (even) the harlot, in the opening of his words:--"Depart thou hence, O harlot, for this man who abides in our house is a man that is righteous, and they that are of his companions are blameless. Is it not enough for thee, harlot, that thou hast corrupted the whole town? Thou hast corrupted the chaste without shame; thou hast robbed the orphans, and hast not blushed, and hast plundered the merchants' wares, and thy countenance is not abashed. From him thy heart [and soul] labour [to take]. But from him thy net takes no spoil.(1) For this man is righteous indeed, and they of his company are blameless." 14. The sinful woman answered and said to him, even to Simon when he had ceased "Thou surely art the guardian of the door, O thou that knowest things that are secret I will propose the matter in the feast, and thou shall be free from blame. And if there be any that wills me to come in, he will bid me and I will come in." Simon ran and closed the door, and approached and stood afar off. And he tarried a long time and proposed not the matter in the feast. But He, Who knows what is secret, beckoned to Simon and said to him:--"Come hither, Simon, I bid thee; does any one stand at the door? Whosoever he be, open to him that he may come in; let him receive what he needs, and go. If he be hungry and hunger for bread, lo! in thy house is the table of life; and if he be thirsty, and thirst for water, lo! the blessed fountain is in thy dwelling. And if he be sick and ask for healing, lo! the great Physician is in thy house. Suffer sinners to look upon Me, for their sakes have I abased Myself. I will not ascend to heaven, to the dwelling whence I came down, until I bear back the sheep that has wandered from its Father's house, and lift it up on My shoulders and bear it aloft to heaven." Simon answered and thus he said to Jesus, when He had done speaking:--"My Lord, this woman that stands in the doorway is a harlot: she is lewd and not free-born, polluted from her childhood. And Thou, my Lord, art a righteous man, and all are eager to see Thee; and if men see Thee having speech with the harlot, all men will flee from beside Thee, and no man will salute Thee." Jesus answered, and thus He said to Simon when he was done speaking:--" Whosoever it be, open for him to come in, and thou shall be free from blame; and though his offences be many, without rebuke I bid thee [receive him]."
15. Simon approached and opened the door, and began thus to speak:--"Come, enter, fulfil that thou willest, to him who is even as thou." The sinful woman, full of transgressions, passed forward and stood by His feet, and clasped her arms in prayer, and with these words she spake:--"Mine eyes have become watercourses that cease not from [watering] the fields, and to-day they wash the feet of Him Who follows after sinners. This hair, abundant in locks from my childhood till this day, let it not grieve Thee that it should wipe this holy body. The mouth that has kissed the lewd, forbid it not to kiss the body that remits transgressions and sins." These things the harlot spake to Jesus, with much weeping. And Simon stood afar off to see what He would do to her. But He Who knows the things that are secret, beckoned to Simon and said to him:--"Lo! I will tell thee, O Simon, what thy meditation is, concerning the harlot. Within thy mind thou imaginest and within thy soul thou saidst, 'I have called this man righteous, but lo! the harlot kisses Him. I have called Him to bless my possessions, and lo! the harlot embraces Him.' O Simon, there were two debtors, whose creditor was one only; one owed him five-hundred [pence], and the other owed fifty. And when the creditor saw that neither of these two had aught, the creditor pardoned and forgave them both their debt. Which of them ought to render the greater thanks? He who was forgiven five hundred, or he who was forgiven fifty?" Simon answered, and thus he said to Jesus, when He had done speaking:--"He who was forgiven five hundred ought to render the greater thanks." Jesus answered and thus He said: "Thou art he that owes five hundred, and this woman owes fifty. Lo! I came into thy house, O Simon; and water for My feet thou broughtest not; and this woman, of whom thou saidst that she was an harlot, one from her childhood defiled, has washed My feet with her tears, and with her hair she has wiped them. Ought I to send her away, O Simon, without receiving forgiveness? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, I will write of her in the Gospel. Go, O woman, thy sins are forgiven thee and all thy transgression is covered; henceforth and to the end of the world." May our Lord account us worthy of hearing this word of His:--"Come, enter, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom made ready for all who shall do My will, and observe all My commandments." To Him be glory; on us be mercy; at all times. Amen! Amen!

Taken from "The Early Church Fathers and Other Works" originally published by Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co. in English in Edinburgh, Scotland, beginning in 1867. (LNPF II/XIII, Schaff and Wace). The digital version is by The Electronic Bible Society, P.O. Box 701356, Dallas, TX 75370, 214-407-WORD.------------------------------------------------------------------- The electronic form of this document is copyrighted. Copyright (c) Eternal Word Television Network 1996. Provided courtesy of: EWTN On-Line Services PO Box 3610 Manassas, VA 20108 Voice: 703-791-2576 Fax: 703-791-4250 Data: 703-791-4336 FTP: ftp.ewtn.com Telnet: ewtn.com WWW: http://www.ewtn.com. Email address: sysop@ewtn.com-------------------------------------------------------------------

Gleanings From Today's Mass Readings 9/5/06

2006-09-05T06:43:00.000-05:00

1 Corinthians 2: 10 - 16
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10 God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God.
11 For what person knows a man's thoughts except the spirit of the man which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God.
12 Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is from God, that we might understand the gifts bestowed on us by God.
13 And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who possess the Spirit.
14 The unspiritual man does not receive the gifts of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned.
15 The spiritual man judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one.
16 "For who has known the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?" But we have the mind of Christ.

Psalms 145: 8 - 14
8
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
9
The LORD is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.
10
All thy works shall give thanks to thee, O LORD, and all thy saints shall bless thee!
13
Thy kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and thy dominion endures throughout all generations. The LORD is faithful in all his words, and gracious in all his deeds.
14
The LORD upholds all who are falling, and raises up all who are bowed down.

Luke 4: 31 - 37

33
And in the synagogue there was a man who had the spirit of an unclean demon; and he cried out with a loud voice,
34
"Ah! What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God."
35
But Jesus rebuked him, saying, "Be silent, and come out of him!" And when the demon had thrown him down in the midst, he came out of him, having done him no harm.
36
And they were all amazed and said to one another, "What is this word? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and they come out."

Stealing From A Priest...

2006-09-04T22:19:00.000-05:00

Shamelessly stolen from Fr. David Hudgins' Blog The Great Commandment
(Rock on, Fr. Hudgins!)
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I've always loved this meditation for Good Friday...
At the very end of time, just before the last judgment, all the peoples who had ever lived were assembled together before the throne of God, and they began to talk to one another.
And they learned that despite their many differences, they all had one thing in common—they all knew what it meant to suffer.
And as they continued to talk, their conversation became a murmur—because regardless of which nation had been their home, or which religion had been their faith, or which century they had lived in, they all began to ask the same question—
If God is all powerful, and God is all good, then why has he allowed such evil to occur down through the centuries?
One by one, the groups stepped forward to speak.
1) There were a group of Jews there.
Some had been persecuted, others had died in the concentration camps.
And they asked, “Why did God allow this to happen?”
2) Next came a group of slaves.
Men and women who had been bought and sold like property, shackled and branded like cattle, families that had been torn apart and abused, and they asked “Why?”
3) Next came a group of refugees, countless numbers of homeless humanity, who had been driven from their lands, made to live in fear, with nowhere to rest their heads, and they said “Why?”
4) And countless hundreds of other groups appeared as well, the sick, the deaf, the lame, the blind, those who had been abused and persecuted, and each of them in their own turn asked, “Why did God allow such evil?”
And gathering together, they formed a delegation.
Each group would draw up a charge on which to indict Almighty God.
Before He could judge them, they would judge Him.
And this was their verdict—that God should know what it is like to live on this earth.
And that He should be given no special privileges because of His divinity to protect him.
There specific demands were as follows:
• “Let Him be born a Jew, that He might know what it is like to be a member of an oppressed race.
• Let Him be born poor, that He might know what it is like to live in the agony of continual need.
• Let Him know what it is like to have to flee his own homeland for the sake of his life.
• Let Him know the burden of hard labor.
• Let Him know what it feels like to be rejected by the ones you love.
• Let Him know what it is like to be betrayed by a friend, indicted on false charges, convicted by a prejudiced jury, sentenced by a corrupt and cowardly judge.
• Let Him know what it is like to be abandoned, alone, tortured.
• Let Him know what it is like to die in shame.”
And as each sentence was read, a roar of thunderous approval surged forth from a vindictive and broken humanity.
One by one the charges were read, and the raucous approval rose to fever pitch, and the whole of humanity turned towards the throne of God.
• And suddenly, all of heaven was split by a penitential silence...
Because where there had once been a throne, there was now only a cross.

Phil 3:8-14

2006-09-04T10:26:00.000-05:00

8More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ,
9and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith,
10that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death;
11in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.
12Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.
13Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead,
14I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Dead guys and dolls

2006-09-04T04:04:00.000-05:00

Only 119 days til Christmas... is that why I suddenly want to collect all of these? *grin*

On a sadder note, the "Crikey!" Guy died!
Yeah, I'm bumming. Steve Irwin, that Austrailian crocodile guy with like too much energy died about a week ago from...get this...a STING RAY which apparently...well...it apparently STUNG him. He was only 44. Ironically, next to this story was the story of a Mexican bullfighter who died at the age of 91. I wonder what the message is here? If you live in East Tennessee like I do, I suppose ..."It ain't them bulls that tar ya up, it's them dang ol' sting rays ya gotta watch out fer..."

Speaking of East Tennessee, as everyone eventually does, the Volunteers won last week, to my boyfriend's absolute happiness. I am football "ig-nit". He is a football freak. To the point where I get tears in my eyes as he gives me a play-by-play rundown of the game. Over and over again. And again.
And, yet, again.
Truth be told, he's cute and I'd probably listen to him sell boat insurance because he has this little way of spitting when he gets excited, and his eyes light up and get real mystical looking and glassy. And he drives a motorcycle, which makes up for a lot.
Like when he tells me the pac 10 suck this year and expects me to comment on it.
(What is a pac 10 anyway?)

Excerpt From "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"

2006-09-03T17:25:00.000-05:00

" Once when I was ten or eleven years old, my friend Judy brought in [ to school ] a Polyphemus moth cocoon... In a book, we found what the adult moth would look like; it would be beautiful. With a wingspread of up to six inches, the Polyphemus moth is one of the few huge American silk moths, much larger than say a giant or tiger swallowtail butterfly. The moth's enormous wings are velveted in a rich, warm brown and edged in bands of blue and pink, delicate as a watercolor wash. A startling eyespot, immense, and deep blue melding to an almost translucent yellow, luxuriates in the center of each hind wing. The effect is one of a masculine splendor foreign to the butterflies, a fragility unfurled to strength. The Polyphemus moth in the picture looked like a mighty wraith, a beating essence of the hardwood forest, alien-skinned and brown, with spread, blind eyes.

We closed the book and turned to the cocoon...As we held it in our hands the creature within it warmed and squirmed.

We were delighted and wrapped it tighter in our fists. The pupa began to jerk violently, in heart-stopping knocks. Who's there? I can still feel those thumps, urgent through a muffling of spun silk and leaf, urgent through the swaddling of many years, against the curve of my palm. We kept passing it around. When it came to me again, it was as hot as a bun; it jumped half out of my hand. The teacher intervened. She put it, still heaving and banging, in the ubiquitous Mason jar.

It was coming. There was no stopping it now, January or not. One end of the cocoon dampened and gradually frayed in a furious battle. The whole cocoon twisted and slapped around in the bottom of the jar. The teacher fades, the classmates fade, I fade: I don't remember anything but that thing's struggle to be a moth or die trying. It emerged at last, a sodden crumple. It was a male; his long antennae were thickly plumed, as wide as his fat abdomen. His body was very thick, over an inch long and deeply furred. A gray, fur-like plush covered his head; a long tan fur-like hair hung from his wide thorax over his brown-furred, segmented abdomen. His multijointed legs, pale and powerful, were shaggy as a bear's. He stood still, but he breathed.

He couldn't spread his wings. There was no room. The chemical that coated his wings like varnish, stiffening them permanently, dried and hardened his wings as they were. He was a monster in a Mason jar. Those huge wings stuck on his back in a torture of random pleats and folds, wrinkled as a dirty tissue, rigid as leather. They made a single nightmare clump still wracked with useless, frantic convulsions.

The next thing I remember, it was recess...Everyone was playing dodgeball in the fenced playground or racing around the concrete schoolyard by the swings. Someone- it must have been the teacher-had let the moth out. I was standing in the driveway, alone, stock still, but shivering. Someone had given the Polyphemus moth his freedom and he was walking away.

He heaved himself down the asphalt driveway by infinite degrees, unwavering. His hideous, crumpled wings lay glued and rucked on his back, perfectly still now, like a collapsed tent. The bell rang twice; I had to go. The moth was receding down the driveway, dragging on. I went; I ran inside. The Polyphemus moth is still crawling down that driveway; crawling down the driveway hunched, crawling down the driveway on six furred feet, forever." ~Annie Dillard "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" ~

Gleanings from today's Mass readings 9/2/06

2006-09-02T07:40:00.000-05:00

1 Corinthians 1: 26 - 31
26
For consider your call, brethren; not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth;
27
but God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong,
28
God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are,
29
so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.
30
He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, whom God made our wisdom, our righteousness and sanctification and redemption;
31
therefore, as it is written, "Let him who boasts, boast of the Lord."

The foolish of the world...wow see now there is a topic I know all too well :) I had a friend who once described herself as "The poster child for 'Don't Do This...' ." She was right, actually, but then again aren't we all? Look at David, who had a man killed so he could sleep with his wife. Yikes! Augustine was a notorious ladies' man and even St. Teresa De Avila, the great doctor of the church described herself as a simple and stupid woman. God loves to shine in us, and shines ever more brightly in our dimness, so that he that does boast can only boast in the Lord.

Fits and Starts

2006-08-31T22:50:00.000-05:00

Those who hold that the love of God is dry, without passion, are those who find contemplation of God wearisome. Those who find contemplation of God wearisome are those who do not know Him.

I am thinking today about pleasure and how limited our perception of pleasure truly is when compared to the pleasure a soul feels drawing near to God. All things on this earth reflect the divine, even in their limited forms, and because of their limited form we are not wholely satisfied by them. We enjoy sex, but are content only for a short time afterward and then desire it again. Drugs and drink provide a temporary pleasure until we find ourselves caught in the snare of addiction, and even in our closest friendships and family relations we still unavoidably find ourselves separated from the person we love, an individual, able to acknowledge one another’s heart but never actually able to know union and understanding of one another in completeness. “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” goes the familiar quote from Augustine, and we have the divorce statistics to prove it.

Life can get long and tiresome. A friend of mind recently said to me, indignantly, “Do you know how hard it is to get into Heaven?” I suppose the answer depends on your definition of Heaven. The Judeo-Christian ideal states a life well-lived by adhering to the Commandments and carefully following Christ in all things leads you to eternity with Him upon death, or possibly a detour to Purgatory for a temporary “burning away” of the remnant of sin still not purged. I know a lot of people who are misled by believing that true and complete happiness is attainable in this lifetime and chase after it like dogs chasing their tails. To some Heaven would be wealth, or health, or prestige. I think the true definition of Heaven is a peace the world does not know and cannot contain, and that we as human beings turned away from the Heaven that was given us by God, in order that we might choose to turn once again to Him in this life after finding every other promise of Heaven empty and bitter and a waste of our attention. It would follow then that worldy affections would become unsatisfying and when this happens to a soul, it begins to look inward for the answer, instead of outward, to the world which thrives on false hopes and fleeting base pleasures.

In Hosea, God speaks to the prophet comparing Israel, His beloved, and compares it to an adulterous wife, who has forsaken her marriage vow and gone out searching for different lovers. In a passage that reads like the rage of a jealous man, God relates His plan to allure Israel and entice her once more to fidelity with Him in the marriage covenant:
Hosea 2 (Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition.)
1Say ye to your brethren: You are my people, and to your sister: Thou hast obtained mercy.
2Judge your mother, judge her: because she is not my wife, and I am not her husband. Let her put away her fornications from her face, and her adulteries from between her breasts.
3Lest I strip her naked, and set her as in the day that she was born: and I will make her as a wilderness, and will set her as a land that none can pass through, and will kill her with drought.
4And I will not have mercy on her children: for they are the children of fornications.
5For their mother hath committed fornication, she that conceived them is covered with shame: for she said: I will go after my lovers, that give me my bread, and my water, my wool, and my flax, my oil, and my drink.
6Wherefore behold I will hedge up thy way with thorns, and I will stop it up with a wall, and she shall not find her paths.
7And she shall follow after her lovers, and shall not overtake them: and she shall seek them, and shall not find, and she shall say: I will go, and return to my first husband, because it was better with me then, than now.
8And she did not know that I gave her corn and wine, and oil, and multiplied her silver, and gold, which they have used in the service of Baal.
9Therefore will I return, and take away my corn in its season, and my wine in its season, and I will set at liberty my wool, and my flax, which covered her disgrace.
10And now I will lay open her folly in the eyes of her lovers: and no man shall deliver her out of my hand:
11And I will cause all her mirth to cease, her solemnities, her new moons, her sabbaths, and all her festival times.
12And I will destroy her vines, and her fig trees, of which she said: These are my rewards, which my lovers have given me: and I will make her as a forest, and the beasts of the field shall devour her.
13And I will visit upon her the days of Baalim, to whom she burnt incense, and decked herself out with her earrings, and with her jewels, and went after her lovers, and forgot me, saith the Lord.
14Therefore, behold I will allure her, and will lead her into the wilderness: and I will speak to her heart.
15And I will give her vinedressers out of the same place, and the valley of Achor for an opening of hope: and she shall sing there according to the days of her youth, and according to the days of her coming up out of the land of Egypt.
16And it shall be in that day, saith the Lord, That she shall call me : My husband, and she shall call me no more Baali.
17And I will take away the names of Baalim out of her mouth, and she shall no more remember their name.
18And in that day I will make a covenant with them, with the beasts of the field, and with the fowls of the air, and with the creeping things of the earth: and I will destroy the bow, and the sword, and war out of the land: and I will make them sleep secure.
19And I will espouse thee to me for ever: and I will espouse thee to me in justice, and judgment, and in mercy, and in commiserations.
20And I will espouse thee to me in faith: and thou shalt know that I am the Lord.
21And it shall come to pass in that day: I will hear, saith the Lord, I will hear the heavens, and they shall hear the earth.
22And the earth shall hear the core, and the wine, and the oil, and these shall hear Jezrahel.
23And I will sow her unto me in the earth, and I will have mercy on her that was without mercy.
24And I will say to that which was not my people: Thou art my people: and they shall say: Thou art my God.

The language God uses to convey His hurt and anger at Israel’s unfaithfulness is indeed the same language of an abandoned husband, a devoted and loving husband who has his wife’s best interest at heart. God is not only speaking of Israel as His chosen nation, but also to the individual soul that is easily lured away from seeking God’s face. His love is erotic, sensual, romantic and full to the brim with desire. It reads like a soap-opera, dripping with betrayal and reconciliation. In marriage we see “through a glass, darkly” a reflection of the Divine Union, but still only a dark and blurry reflection. What God asks of us is that, when united, we together as one flesh continue to seek him, finding consolation in one another and encouragement. But earthly marriage is not a means to an end. Those who stop seeking their Beloved having found an earthly partner run the risk of putting all their faith in that partnership, only to find it dissolving in alimony payments and custody battles shortly thereafter. God IS jealous, and He tells us as much:
“24 For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.” Deut 4:24
Furthermore, God allows us to search out other lovers precisely so that we come to the understanding, often times in the hardest and most sorrowful of losses, that a marriage, a life, not built upon a solid foundation of faith in this world will inevitably fail. It isn’t because God is hateful- quite on the contrary. He is so consumed with passion for us that the hedge He places around us gives us no choice but to question and seek and knock- so that He may open to us and lavish on us the gifts He is genuinely bursting to give us. At some point in every life, the question is asked- Is there a God? If so, what is His nature?
6Wherefore behold I will hedge up thy way with thorns, and I will stop it up with a wall, and she shall not find her paths.
We get a taste of what it is to be “at one” with our beloved in marriage. We are ‘enfleshed” together, no longer two separate individualities but a single body. It is imperfect and meant to be, as we are imperfect but still, miraculously, called to be perfect in the Light of Christ.
As I read the saints writings and forge ahead in my own conversion, I am gaining a deeper understanding of why the saints could so easily and without the slightest regret denounce the world and it’s “emptiness” and find all wordly pleasures bitter in comparison to God. I see know how celibates can make the sacrifice gladly in exchange for union with the Divine and how piteously lacking the sexual act is in comparison to that union.. That is not to debase married love or sex, for both are reflections of the love and desire God has for our souls.

St. Augustine was a great lover, or so he writes in his “Confessions”. His conversion story relates how difficult the struggle was within himself to release the greatest worldly pleasure known to him, understanding through his conversion that it displeased God. It is the same when I turn my attention inward and face the obstacles and affections I have for things I know I’m better off without. It is much easier to seek out something or someone that gives immediate gratification to our senses and temporary comfort to our hearts than to remain steadfast against the temptation to indulge and in essence abandon our resolve against such pursuits. We are always at war and we battle formidable enemies. But with each attempt, with each “try”, we also reaffirm in our consequent failure that we are made geared to seek God, and that He in His Wisdom has made us with this in mind. We did not create ourselves, nor do we govern our lives, nor can we say rightly that we fashioned this universe and keep it running smoothly, no matter how great our knowledge of God’s laws are. We play at His table, contained within Him, and he who spends his life seeking true happiness outside of God spends a life of purposeless fits and starts.

The Magdalene Diaries

2006-08-26T07:56:00.000-05:00

I love a good conversion story. Maybe it is because we are all in the process of change, and from moment to moment we become someone different. Maybe it's because that power to change inspires hope and gives us vision. Maybe its because even though the world tells us we are powerless, God gives His gift of Truth in Christ: that we are His and that turning to Him is the greatest joy a soul can aspire to.
It reminds me of a Jewish proverb I once read: Not a single blade of grass exists without a governing angel above it, whispering, tenderly "Grow...grow..."

I love Mary Magdalene. I love her because she was plagued by seven demons and was healed, that she was traditionally a prostitute before she converted. The story of her sitting at the feet of Christ, washing his feet with her tears and drying them with her hair and annointing them with expensive perfume is beautiful not only for such an amazing show of love and repentance but in that repentance this woman showed almost heroic strength. As a woman, and unclean, she was forbidden to touch Christ, let alone embrace His feet. I am sure the men in the room were less than kind to her as she made her way to Jesus and and sat before Him, rapt with adoration and thanksgiving and I am sure that fire in her soul made their protests and insults meaningless. She was defiant of these men and deaf to their judgements, her eyes, her heart and her soul filled with love of Christ, Who had set her free of them and healed her.