Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
(From the Exsultet)

To all the newest guests at Christ's table, welcome! Welcome Home!

Tonight adults in the RCIA programs all over the world were welcomed into the Catholic Church at Easter Vigil Masses--some baptized, some confirmed, some received both of these Sacraments, but all received Communion as full members of the Roman Catholic Church. I can't imagine what a huge leap that is for some people, some of the roads that they've had to travel to get where they are tonight. For others it was as natural as breathing. No matter; they're all here, and all warmly embraced.

Congratulations! And WELCOME, WELCOME, WELCOME! God bless you!

~~

As you might figure, I went to Easter Vigil tonight with TJ and my Dad at New Parish. Easter Vigil is lovely, one of the most beautiful liturgies in the Church. It was a lovely Mass, entered into a dim church, and the beautiful lighting of the fire and Easter candle--and the chanting of the Exsultet.

There were a LOT of catechumens there tonight to be confirmed, about 30 adults. It swells my heart knowing there are people seeking His Truth, and finding beauty and peace within the Holy Mother Church.

~~

It was a full house, too. That also made me happy. And I joyfully reaffirmed my baptismal promises tonight:

Do you reject Satan? I do.
And all his works? I do.
And all his empty promises? I do.
Do you believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth? I do.
Do you believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, Who was born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, died, and was buried, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father? I do.
Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting? I do.

~~

It wasn't so long ago that TJ and I were in the Basilica on another lovely evening, but not as spectators, but as participants. TJ got the whole gamut: Baptism, Confirmation, First Communion. I had only the Confirmation part, as I am a cradle Catholic and did have my First Communion back in the Dark Ages. If you've been in the Basilica, then you know how lovely Mass can be there, amongst the stained glass, statuary and the architecture that instinctively made one's eyes move upwards to heaven. Add to it a glorious chorale under that vaulted ceiling, and that sacred moment can make hearts of stone into mush. Even dyed-in-the-wool anti-Catholics marvel over the beauty of the church.

And I get teary-eyed thinking of the enormity of that evening four years ago, and how it's changed my life. Faith is amazing. What a gift!

~~

I was hoping that it wouldn't be the "contemporary" Mass, but it was. I was resigned and focused on the Mass (or trying when the drummer wasn't going nuts), TJ was into it, but my dad was absolutely tuned out. Vatican II pretty much ended his spiritual journey... I can try but I can't make him change. Tonight was to get him out of the house, see something other than the four walls. I think I'll take him to the Tridentine Mass at St Thomas the Apostle when I don't have something on the schedule.

One thing I've noticed this week is that while Dad says he's "out of the fog and into a funk," I invariably see him wistfully gazing at the picture of Mom holding her then-newborn grandson back in 1997. I took that picture, and was delighted when it came out the way it did, capturing Mom at her very best, at her most peaceful. I had told Dad that when I gave #1 brother a copy of that very picture, he had immediately exclaimed, "That's her, that's so Mom." It was also one of the pics chosen for the collage we did. I think I'm going to get an appropriate frame for that instead of what it's in now.

He told me on Friday that he's been thinking about the last forty-nine years... they had been married forty-nine years and almost exactly nine months when she died. Their fiftieth anniversary would have been at the end of June. He ruminated and we talked and I was aware of his sadness as he spoke. The shock is beginning to wear off, I think.

In my own fledgling marriage, forty-nine years seems like forever, unimaginable and something to aspire to. If I lost TJ after four years of marriage I might shrivel up and die... but forty-nine years? How would I handle losing the person I've spent the majority of my lifetime with? My God!

I worry about him, I don't know what to say or do except to be there for him.

~~

May the Morning Star which never sets

find this flame still burning:

Christ, that Morning Star,

who came back from the dead,

and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,

your Son, who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.

(Exsultet, last stanza)

Have a happy and blessed Easter!

Meanderings and Quagmires


It has been two weeks today since Mom died, and I still don't think it's hit me yet. I haven't cried--I've shed tears, but I haven't *really* cried. Maybe I cried myself out in the months, and certainly the week, preceding her death; I have known for a very long time that her time was short, and have wept so much. My only weak time of day is when I am trying to fall asleep. Thursday night, my brain took me down the hall of my parents' house, and I could see is Mom's empty rocking chair, her characteristic red sweater draped on the back... no more Mama. I did cry, but was trying not to wake TJ up. I dozed off sometime after.

Last night, I envisioned her face. Oh, Mama...

I am so grateful that I cannot recall how her face looked at the Visitation/Rosary. Dad decided on the open after we all had seen her. Kim was skillful and really did lovely work; but death is death, and as she was seven days dead, there are things no mortician, no matter the skills, can erase.

Funny, I can recall my poor sister's gaunt face in her coffin 15 years ago, and I had refused to go closer than halfway up the aisle at the mortuary; I cannot for the life of me remember what Mom looked like, and I stood next to the coffin.

God is merciful.

~~

Today is Palm Sunday, and I can't believe it's here already. Next week is Easter. Oh my God.

~~

I'm sponsoring TJ's niece in her confirmation this year. I'm having grave reservations about the whole thing. How does one sponsor a girl who doesn't give a rat's bum, whose heart is hardened, whose mind is inflexible?

I know that it's partly her being the teenage daughter, the only child, of two lawyers--huge entitlement attitude--but I can also understand her disenchantment to a point. Her parish has Suze Orman's little clone running the catechism meetings, with the bane of corporate companies everywhere, the Dreaded and Never Popular "Ice Breaker" being performed on Thursday in the Church proper as part of the "Evening of Prayer"(!!!). The Church being used as a social hall, a quilt over the altar, cruddy and expensive workbooks afraid to use the word "Catholic," references to a feel-good God in a foofy-cloud life, no respect or veneration in the parish--no wonder! She has seen nothing of Her beauty and majesty, this Bride of Christ, and when one can't see that faith that has endured for a millenium, it's hard to bite off on.

She is, for the moment, a liberal crusader: pro-abortion, pro-gay, ardent women's rights advocate. She'll be pro-abortion until she *sees* the effect of what it does, either to the child or to a friend; she's pro-gay because her aunt is a lesbian, and on that score I can hardly blame her; and I'm all right with the women's rights, too, for the most part. But she claims she wants to be a Buddhist, as she's already vegetarian, and blah blah blah. She doesn't really believe God exists... or so she says. Maybe she wants some other religion. "I'm looking into them," she announced haughtily.

I understand she's fifteen going on forty, pushed into a premature sophistication. She's bright and brilliant and privileged and world-traveled. In the top five of her class as a sophomore, already getting letters from various excellent universities, going to hold out for Princeton. She knows what she wants to do with her life, which is wonderful (I wish I had). But I worry about her increasingly reactionary attitudes; the cynicism more appropriate for a bitter, jaded, lonely, drunken old hag in a bar of 46 than for a lovely young woman of not quite sixteen; the elitist attitude she's picked up with the encouragement of her father; and disdain for anyone who hasn't been raised as she has been, riding in the back of a Mercedes like the Queen of England.

It's also hard to sponsor someone who won't really talk to me. It's been true as long as TJ and I have been serious, then engaged, and then through our marriage--about eight years in all. I could chalk up the first years as shyness. I could blame the fact that she and I have not really been allowed to have a full-blown conversation with her in the intervening years--there was always someone around to interrupt, deliberately or not. I can also see the influence of her parents' attitudes of superiority above TJ and I in her, because she has yet to learn how to put that mask on. It's a morass of miscommunication and misunderstanding, exacerbated by an aura of self-importance and materialism encouraged by her parents. We don't wear labels, we don't drive a Mercedes, therefore we are peasants and unworthy of her consideration.

I want to take her to task; for example, I want to ask her which countries are Buddhist and/or have Buddhist factions, then ask her how these countries/cultures treat their women in light of her ardent women's lib position. It's not meant as a disrespect to Buddhists/Buddhism; rather, I want to point out with that example her hypocrisy and bigotry in holding the Catholic Church to a standard she won't apply to any other religion. And Buddhism isn't the only one she's "considering," remember.

But it's the parents, too. Mom would never step foot in the Church if it weren't for Niece; Father is a little better, but rationalizes his faith with scraps of history--little solace, to my way of thinking. Here's an example, though, of how little the trio as a whole regard their faith:

Niece calls up her mother from a Kumbaya-type Confirmation retreat (*shiver*--I sympathize!), and the first words out of her mouth are, "You owe me." So her mother is going to buy her a new pair of Abercrombie jeans to make up for her unhappiness with the retreat.

No positive spin, no "are you sure you haven't taken something away from it?" No. Just, "OK, we'll go to the mall this week." And, in this case, I don't blame Niece; I blame the parents for thinking that material things will solve the problem. They are, essentially, buying her off. What are they teaching her? I think it's frightening.

In a similar vein, the other night for the Evening of Prayer: they (honestly) forgot, didn't show, but offered to make up for it by buying dinner after tonight's Rite of Enrollment. My annoyance isn't really with crossing the Valley and being stood up, it's the idea that buying dinner will solve the bigger problem. It's a bad system, and it's creating a monster.

I pray about this a lot. I believe in the Franciscan mantra of preaching the Gospel at all times, and speaking if I have to. Should I speak? Or should I keep silent and let God work in His way? I can, and do, pray that she will allow the Holy Spirit to move in her life. I want to tell her, swearing on my mother's all-too-recent grave, that yes indeed there is a God, and he is a great God.

I think I'm hoping that what I read on various Catholic forums will come to pass for her: having moved away from, or even rejected, the Holy Mother Church, that she will wander from place to place and, after time, come home, joyfully, realizing that this faith is true and a real home, a real comfort, and feel His Real Presence.

~~

The interviews for Candidacy happened last weekend as I was burying my mother. So, that will be postponed. I have questions to ponder.

As a fellow inquirer told me, "Incidentally, I spoke with one of the ladies that is going through Candidacy one afternoon, and she said that when we go for the Interview, we should not go too far to the right or left and give brief answers... Just honest and truthful answers are what they want, no doubt." I'm not sure why this bothers me, though it is good advice. I can see it now:

Council Member: "What do you expect from the SFO?"

Me: <mystified> "Uhhhh, love. Peace. Yeah, peace and love. Pax et bonum, right? Peace, love, prayer, guidance... I guess."

Not that the prep questions are that off-kilter--they're right along the one in the exchange above. It what's not on that sheet that mystifies me. I'm not a good off-the-cuff question answerer (love that grammar).

It's time for some soul searching. Short, concise answers that stay to the center. Right.

~~

I will purge more about Mom and her funeral in the days to come. It was very interesting, as well as there being some incidents of incredible kindness and generosity and some supernatural moments that blew everyone's mind. Funeral planning in itself is an education.

Keep Dad in your prayers... he's concerned because it really hasn't hit him yet, but it will. He's still in shock, still in that numb state that main caretakers tend to be in as a protection against their emotions. He told me Friday that it's the first day he's felt like he's not in a fog, so I think it's coming.

Pray for Niece, that her heart and mind will be opened.

Pray for this world, which seems to be going to Hell in a handbasket.

Her Children Rise Up and Call Her Blessed.


I had a post all lined out last night, lamenting about my poor mother, who a week ago we placed in hospice. It has been a terrible, draining, long week. End-stage cirrhosis with hepatorenal syndrome, is what happened; once the hepatorenal aspect starts and is diagnosed, the mean prognosis is two weeks, usually less. She was in a lovely facility with a God-sent staff, a group of loving, compassionate people. I can't speak highly enough of the staff at Banner Gardens Hospice House. I pray that God blesses these loving servants of the afflicted.

This whole week--Sunday to Sunday--was an exhausting blur.

I was there every day. While she was still lucid, she was rather feisty, but I now understand that to be a product of her incredible resolve to live. It wasn't until she was taken off of her medications and was strictly on what are called "comfort medications" that any of us had any concept of how much pain she'd been concealing from us. When the nurses have to medicate anyone four times in a night, and the attending nurse marveling that it's "a lot," it revealed how much pain she was in, pain she never let us see. And only then had we realized that she had been living in physical hell.

Mom had been sedated for the last four days. Due to the toxins in her body, it made her restless and combative, on top of confused. It was to prevent her from hurting herself against the railings with her gossamer skin, or falling. Her last semi-lucid day was Wednesday (as she had been slightly doped), she had called Dad to say that if he didn't come and take her home, she was going to walk every step.

She knew where she was and why, but her coping mechanism was to insist that this was just a setback; she walked up and down the hall on Tuesday, determined to prove she was coming home. That took so much out of her, but that was Mom. She also said some harsh things that I know that I cannot take personally--especially now that we know just how much pain she was in. I also know, thanks to Susan, why this was: not only did she want to live, she didn't want to leave Dad, leave me, leave her life. She wasn't done yet, still so much to do.

This morning, I was wide awake at six, showered and dressed as I was to serve at Mass at 12:30. I headed out on the long drive to east Mesa. I got there at 7:30 AM.

It is said that the auditory functions are the last to go, and so I talked to Mom.

She looked so battered, frail and wasted, struggling for each shallow breath, the horrendous bruises that came with the IVs and blood draws stark against her skin.

I didn't weep, but my tears dripped on her bedlinens. I said that I'm sorry, it wasn't supposed to be this way; you were supposed to live to 100; I know that you still want to do things. But... Mama... it's over. It's time.

And it's OK for you to go. There are so many waiting joyfully for you, I said, and said their names: Aunt Janet and Uncle John, Uncle Bill, Aunt Nancy and Uncle Ross, my sisters Roberta and Margaret, her mother, and the beloved father she never got over losing when she was 12.

Mama, I said, of course I don't want you to go, none of us do, but it's time--you're body is giving out on you, there's too much pain, it's OK, I love you. Go to where there's no more piles of medications, no more ascites drains, no more transfusions; no more having to hide the horrendous pain.

We all love you, we understand, it's OK to go. I love you, Mama.

Then I read from the red prayer book with the Offices in it; parts of the Office of the Dead; and the morning prayers for the Fourth Sunday of Lent.

As I stroked her head before I left, it struck me how much of her hair is still dark at the age of 69. Still thick, still lovely, with the distinctive greying streaks. She had aged gracefully, and still retained much of her good looks even in the ravages of the last three years.

Mama, I said, thank you for being *my* mother. I love you, Mom.

And I kissed her forehead, saying goodbye.

I wept stormily as I drove to Starbucks. Oh, Mama...
I begged my late beloved godmother--Nancy, who had come to me in spirit as I had keened at her passing to let me know she was OK--to please go to Mom, please tell her there's nothing to be afraid of, tell her from where you are that it's OK.

I wandered from place to place, lost like the orphan I knew I was to become too soon. While I love my father, my mother was my friend. I was blessed in that regard. So in a way, when she goes, I will be alone. Who can I wander through the Home Depot garden department aimlessly with? Who will I concoct parties with, discuss recipes with? Who will I be able to ask advice from?

Without Mama, who's going to love me? What's going to become of me when I don't have you to love me?

I got to Church an hour too early. I signed in on the EMHC board, tried to go through the gift shop, and couldn't take the people. Kurt at the office let me in to go through the Franciscan library that Fr Hoorman keeps. I was trying to keep my brain busy.

Deacon Phil poked his head in and he sat with me as he waited for his appointment to show. He and his wife know what's been happening, and earlier this week I had sent them an email with a heartfelt cry, my soul disturbed. He asked me, "Are you ready to let her go?" I replied yeah, but I don't want her to go... but that she's fought the fight and it's OK.

"Did you tell her that?"

A strange kind of relief washed over me as I said yes, I have, and I recounted my half-hour with Mom this morning. I fought tears as I sketched for him the hell of this past week, and it felt good to say something to someone who isn't intimately involved with the drama.

When his appointment showed up, I wandered to the shrine of St Anthony within the Church proper, Anthony, my best friend in recent months. I implored him to help, to help Mom understand it's OK to go, help this lost soul. But it was at the shrine to Our Lady of Perpetual Help that I wept. Oh, Blessed Mother... please let her know it's OK, and please intercede with your beloved Son for her faults, for His forgiveness--dear God, Mom's done her Purgatory in this living hell; please release her and hold her in Your loving arms...

By the time Mass started I was a wreck. TJ met me there, and I cried silently on his shoulder. I could not keep the tears back, even as I offered His Body. All I could do is pray for Mom's release. At my meeting with Father Jeff my brain was wiped. So much for picking music.

I went home for awhile, and then went to Dad's to start on the draft of her obit. God, save me: I have dreaded this task.

Today at 4:15 PM, the phone call came, and there was the sad but not unexpected news: she passed at about 4:10. Mama is now seeing the face of God. I have no reason to doubt otherwise. Kind, maternal, generous Mama...

Dad and the boys went ahead as TJ picked me up. She was on the bed, arms crossed, her ravaged face peaceful. "Oh, Mama... " and as I looked at her, thinking of arrangements, "nobody needs to see you this way, they don't need to remember you this way..." Daddy held me for awhile as I cried tiredly. Even poor TJ wept. "I love your mother," he said on the way home.

It's not every woman whose husbands characterize them as "a great lady." And it's the rare woman whose sons-in-law love her as their own mother. And I love my mother... God, I'm going to miss her.

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon her.
May she rest in peace, Amen.
May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, Amen.

A Plea for Prayer

Msgr. Tom Zazella, St Clare Emerging Community's spiritual adviser, is gravely ill. He hasn't been well for some time but it would seem that his stomach cancer has returned. The news was passed around to us with the request to "storm heaven with prayer." I'm gonna war-dial God...


...May the Compassionate Savior be pleased to hear the intercessions of tt His friends whom piety invokes in illness or affliction, or to ward off accidents and calamities
...That the afflicted may find relief from cancer: St. Peregrinus, St. Adelgondis, St. Joseph of Leonissa, St. Galla, Bl. Adalbert of Oberattaich, Mother Rose Lathrop, Pray for them...
...That, if it be God's will, even though recovery be humanly impossible: St. Rita of Cassia, pray for them.
That all sufferers may draw closer to Jesus Christ Crucified, and unite their pains with His: St. Francis of Assisi, St. Gemma Galgani, Ven. Katharine Emmerich, pray for them...
Let us pray.
O God our Father, the Eternal Health of them that believe, Who dost correct those whom Thou dost love, and chastiseth every one whom Thou dost receive, give greater faith and courage, we beseech Thee, to all now visited by Thy hand, that they may lose no moment of their affliction but rather receive humbly and thankfully the pains that draw them into closer union with the sacred , Passion of Thy Son, the pains that warn them of the brevity of this temporal life and then of judgment, the pains that rebuke sin, the pains the bearing of which may be for them their eternal salvation. Help them to be patient, gentle toward those who minister to them, and resigned to Thy most holy will whether for health or for eternal life. And if it be Thy will to restore them to health, if they can serve Thy glory better in health than in suffering, grant to us and to them the grace to be truly thankful. Through Thy Son Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Amen.
From Benjamin Francis Musser, OFM

Application of Knowledge


As I read through Come and See, or the excellent biography of St Francis by Omer Englebert, or various periodicals and other resources, it becomes very apparent that I need to remind myself that the Secular Franciscan path is not just reading and study. This is not a college course. As a voracious reader, I sometimes get into the habit of skimming, or gleaning things here and there; with this I need to slow down, digest, think, and most important, apply.

It’s easy to relegate it to the intellectual realm—it’s paper (real or virtual), after all, and stashed somewhere in the brain. But taking all that knowledge and applying it, making Francis’ life relevant to me and my experiences, my responses more akin to his and more Christ-centered, rather than id-centered or societally dictated. More Christian, more Catholic, more Francis.

That's not to dismiss the volumes of resources out there; study is a form of dialogue. But in this instance, I'm talking about the practical exam like the ones I took to receive my EMT certification all those years ago. Pete Jankowski gave us the tools to work with, then came the time to apply all the things we had learned in that course of study. Once you could apply the methodology, you were cleared to go and be in the field.

As I've gone along, and to continue to use the EMT cert example, it's kind of like my first day in the ER: jumping into the unknown, exposed to things one has never been exposed to: an AIDS patient, a partial scalping from a car accident (that was a fun one), the hypochondriac claiming that one bedpan will not be enough--everything ranging from the terrifying to the hilarious.

And really, this is no different, except that it's intense and personal and highly spiritual--and in many ways much more exhausting. It's not fun sometimes to peel the onion layers away. It's exhilarating to find huge leaps in progress. I'm awestricken as to the beauty and the privilege of faith. It's hard not to flinch sometimes when digging deeper. However, as anyone on the Journey knows, the ends to this are always worth the means.

I think the kernel of the Journey is the question "How am I willing to change?" I cannot use 'when'--there is no option; turning to Franciscan spirituality (or any other, i.e. Benedictine, Dominican, etc.) is not a matter of 'when,' as the initial commitment to this indicates the need, the want, to change. It is the way I need to change, what I need to change, the glasses that I need to see clearly. If I do not change, morph, evolve in my spiritual journey, then I have made this a superficial exercise, made the study and discussion akin to a simple reading assignment.

Tonight I am going to reread the Englebert bio, mark the passages that speak to me, note how Francis responded to things, make his life relevant to mine. Things have changed in the almost 800 years since his death, yet some things never change--man is notorious for not learning from history and experience.

God, all powerful, most holy, sublime ruler of all, you alone are good - supremely, fully, completely good, may we render to you all praise, all honour and all blessing: may we always ascribe to you alone everything that is good!
Amen

Thirteen Tuesdays - St Anthony

Today begins the Thirteen Tuesdays in honor of St Anthony of Padua, which ends on the Feast of St Anthony on June 13th. A novena usually entails nine days, or nine weeks. How did the novena of St Anthony get to 13? And why Tuesday?

Tuesday is because Anthony died on that day: Tuesday, June 13th, 1231.

The novena of Anthony was originally nine days, as prescribed, and is linked with a legend about a pious childless couple in Bologna about the year 1617. After 22 years of longing for a child, the story goes, the wife took her troubles to St. Anthony. He is said to have appeared to her in a dream telling her, "For nine Tuesdays, one after the other, make visits to the church of my Order; on each of those days, approach the holy sacraments of penance and of the altar, then pray before my picture, and what you ask, you shall obtain."

Because of the daily increase of the Tuesday devotions to Saint Anthony, four more Tuesdays were added to the nine Tuesdays, making it a total of thirteen. This is the day of the month on which the Saint died. Thirteen weeks from March 14th is June 13th, the Feast day.

In 1898 Pope Leo XII granted a plenary indulgence to those spending some time in devout meditation or prayers or performing some other acts of piety in honor of St. Anthony of Padua on Tuesday or Sunday of any week with the intention of doing so for 13 Tuesdays or Sundays without interruption.

And that is how this Novena went from 9 to 13.

~~

He is known in the secular world as the seeker of lost items, most memorably and hilariously recalled by George Carlin. Some Catholics know the saying "Tony, Tony, turn around; something's lost and can't be found." However, he is the patron saint of many other things, including faith in the Blessed Sacrament, domestic animals, barrenness/sterility, horses, shipwrecks and starvation. Known as the Hammer of the Heretics, his orations against the heresies of his time made Church VIPs stand up and listen, and made many who had fallen away return to the Holy Mother Church.

~~

There is something called St Anthony's Bread, which is the promise of giving alms in return for a favor asked of God through St. Anthony's intercession (the custom also takes place throughout the year when parents give alms after placing their baby under the patronage of St. Anthony). In some places, the custom has a literal parallel in that loaves of bread might be blessed and given away at church or, generally, to the poor,

There is also a recipe, which I will print here:

Italian Mini-Loaves
Yield: 16
3 cups flour, divided
2 packages active dry yeast
1 Tsp. dried Italian seasoning
1 Tsp. dried pars- ley flakes
1 1/4 cups 1% milk
1/4 cup water
2 Tblsp. butter or margarine
2 Tblsp. sugar
1 Tsp. garlic salt
1 egg
3/4 cup grated parmesan cheese, divided
2 Tblsp. butter or margarine, melted

In a large mixing bowl, combine 1 1/2 cups of flour, yeast, Italian seasoning, and parsley flakes. In a saucepan, heat and stir the milk, water, butter, sugar, and garlic salt just until warm (120- 130 degrees) and butter almost melts. Add milk mixture to flour mixture. Add egg and beat with electric mixer on low or medium speed for 30 seconds, scraping the bowl constantly. Beat on high speed for 3 minutes.
Using a wooden spoon, stir in 1/2 cup of the parmesan cheese and as much of the remaining flour as you can.Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead in enough of the remaining flour to make a moderately soft dough that is smooth (3-5 minutes total).
[you are supposed to pray to St Anthony while kneading, according to some--*smile*]
Shape the dough into a ball. Place it in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to grease the top and bottom surfaces. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size (about 45 min).
Grease baking sheets or a 13” x 9” x 2” baking pan. Punch dough down and turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide dough into 16 portions, shaping each into a round mini-loaf. Place mini loaves on sheet or pan. Brush tops with 2 tablespoons butter and sprinkle with remaining parmesan cheese. Cover and let rise in a warm place (about 15 minutes).
Bake in a 375‚ oven for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown.

You know, I'm thinking a St Anthony get-together for the Fraternity might not be a bad idea...
~~~

Prayer to St Anthony on the first of the 13 Tuesdays:

St. Anthony, you found quiet time to retreat into private communion with God to replenish your life with new strength. Help me in the midst of my busy life to seek the Spirit's guiding presence within my heart. Amen.

It's Raining, It's Pouring, the Old Man is Snoring...


143 days of dry-as-bone weather has been obliterated, starting VERY early this morning. I woke up at 4:30 this morning hearing this steady CLANK CLANK CLANK and thinking 'what in the ... is that?' It was the unfamiliar sound of rain coming off the roof and falling onto the fan on the A/C unit outside. It's been forever since I've heard that sound. I got up and tottered downstairs, and sat on the back porch for awhile before going back to bed, not minding the chill; I just breathed in the wonderful smell of desert rain.

This came off of a local station's weather forecast: "Expect wet weather this weekend, as showers and storms move into the valley. Rain could be heavy at times, and winds will continue to be strong out of the Southwest 15-30 mph. Some valley locations could get .25"-.75" of rain. In the higher elevations, snow level will drop down to around 3000'. Even though this storm could put a damper on your weekend plans, the rain is really needed. So, enjoy the rain!" Believe me, we ALL will!

143 days is a long time without rain. At least Ma Nature didn't leave us with half measures... no, there is supposed to be steady rain all weekend and snow up north, anywhere from 11-26 inches depending on elevation.

I can hear the teens across the street splashing around in the rain. I'm drinking my Trader Joe's coffee with a healthy dollop of heavy cream, hearing cars drive by on the wet street. The cat is safely curled on the guest bed and I can just hear all the plants outside say thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank yoooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!

*does a little dance*

I LOVE RAIN.

Everyone's walking around with a smile on their face, happily employing sweaters and other *winter* items that have been shelved. It has been raining allllll day. Better yet, from the news I learned that the high country is getting plenty of snow too. That's more important than us getting rain here in the Valley--no snow up there, no water down here.

People were getting cranky without the rain, myself included. People were starting to whine and cry--you would think it was a sign of the apocalypse. There have been times in the past several weeks where I wanted to shake someone and say, "THIS IS THE DESERT, STUPID!" Gadzooks!!!!

Thank you God for the rain. I LOVE RAIN!

More please!!

So What's The Problem Here?

3/14/06 (UPDATE): See here.

Church Denies Communion to Autistic Boy - the brief on this is that there is an autistic boy in Lake Havasu that "cannot swallow foods with certain textures;" the solution the parents used was to have the Host put in the boy's mouth, then the father would take said Host and consume it himself. Please understand that I also don't care for the slants from the Repulsive.

Think of the EWWWWWWWWWWW!!! factor--!

No, seriously... I'm curious as to how this got to the attention of Bishop Olmsted? I'm glad it did; it tells me SOMEONE knows the correct way to handle the Host and that there is hope for the Church. I wonder what their pastor was thinking when he sanctioned this, er, solution. If in fact he sanctioned it. Silence equals assent?

One would think that the Bishop has excommunicated half of Arizona by some of the reactions - Holy Cow... and interesting that the most scorching are from people totally ignorant of the Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church and the GIRM; sadly, some even come from those claiming that they are Catholic, but are apparently wholly ignorant of how the Blessed Sacrament is to be adminstered and handled.

It comes up in the most interesting conversations, and weeeeiiiirrrddd things come out from the woodwork. My brother-in-law, a very successful lawyer, said that a chocolate Host can be made (oh reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeallllly?); my sister-in-law cried about how we need to be all inclusive. As far as this situation is concerned, the child is included. Off topic. My dad just sighed. I *love* the comment that the Church has "failed" the child.

The issue at hand is about the poor handling of a difficult situation. I feel for the parents in that situation, as their heart is truly in the right place. They wish for their son to receive Communion, so they figured that this is a good compromise--then someone called them on it, and it wound up all the way over here in Phoenix at the Diocese. They say the Diocese of Philadelphia approved it, but the more I read, the more questionable this statement seems to be.

The Catholics who have bothered to take the time to *know* the rules of offering Communion know that it does not matter what size the Host is, or that the host may be broken up if necessary in certain situations. The most miniscule fraction of the Body is equal to a whole one. If one took a small crumb, placed it on his tongue, and that does not seem to cause a problem, would this be an acceptable alternative?

It's not like the poor Bishop issued an ultimatum. According to the articles I've read, there were suggestions made and an entreaty to find an acceptable solution. There was no mention of a ban--maybe the imposition of a temporary suspension until a solution was found. Regrettably, there is nothing on the Diocesan website to link to... on the other hand, why should there be? This was meant to be handled on the family/Church level. It was the parents who ran to the media.

I must admit I have my suspicions on the whole situation. Being an EMHC, I've made it my business to know what's appropriate and not, and find it hard to believe that even their parish priest was OK with this. The way the Morans chose to handle it is, sadly, incorrect, and if they were more aware of the guidelines they would have sought a compromise earlier. It's not like the GIRM or Canon Law are hidden documents.

And it's wise to remember that the Bishop is not in the business of making everyone happy; it's about doing the *correct* thing...

~~~~~~~~

This hot topic got bumped from the local front pages by... errr.... uhh... the interesting situation a Mesa battalion chief was in. No further discussion. *gag*

From a dear friend in the St Francis Fraternity, I got an e-mail... it's comforting yet thought provoking.



"Things God Won't Ask On That Day"

God won't ask what kind of car you drove; He'll ask how many people you drove who didn't have transportation

God won't ask the square footage of your house; He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.

God won't ask about the clothes you had in your closet; He'll ask how many you helped clothe.

God won't ask what your highest salary was; He'll ask if you compromised your character to obtain it.

God won't ask what your job title was; He'll ask if you performed your job to the best of your ability.

God won't ask how many friends you had; He'll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.

God won't ask in what neighborhood you lived; He'll ask how you treated your neighbors.

God won't ask about the color of your skin; He'll ask about the content of your character.

God won't ask why it took you so long to seek Salvation; He'll lovingly take you to your mansion in heaven... and not to the Gates of Hell.


And I know that there are others we all can add--add one in comments.

Blessings from Wonderful, if Unexpected, Places


As I stated in the last post, we're having our Parish Mission this week, with our hosts being the visiting priests from the Fathers of Mercy. I haven't had the privilege of hearing Fr Ben Cameron, CPM, speak or preside at Mass, but I have had Father David Wilton, CPM, at Sunday's Mass, yesterday's confession, and at the Mass following as part of the Mission last night.

I *heart* Fr David. Not only do I like his style and inspiring speeches, HE DOES NOT P.C. THE CREED. Any priest who has the temerity to refuse to emasculate the Creed will always win my heart. It's also nice to see that there are priests that are my age... and he stated in his talk last night that they are getting more vocations through the grace of God and Eucharistic Holy Hour.

Not only is it rare to not have an hour and a half Mass where people can sit still, it's also rare to find a "young" priest that has such passion and insight as Fr David has. My mind is still reverbating with his roller coaster talk--high, funny parts, mind-blowing anecdotes, the mournful pleading and relating of pain, back up to laughing. Personal and personable, I hope he comes back to the parish when the Fathers of Mercy return for Eucharistic Weekend in June.

It was his homily on Sunday that drew me to Confession last night. Funny, I had excruciating back pain yesterday (and had been for a few days--I wrote it off to yardwork and/or stress); once I got out of Confession, it became manageable. It didn't entirely go away, but it got much better to the point where I wasn't screaming when I shifted weight or turned suddenly.

Coincidence? I think not.

And his discussions on Confession on Sunday and the Eucharist last night refocused me in terms of my directions. And the awful insult it is to miss Mass really hit me. The Church only *requires* us to go one hour a week, one day a week, with the more the better, but the Sunday Obligation is so simple.

Fr David expounded on how 75% of Catholics believe that the Eucharist is NOT the Real Presence, but a symbol or something equally as inane--isn't that mind-blowing? How can they say they're Catholic if they don't buy into Transubstantiation? Certainly if God can create the world, and make Man out of clay (on top of the miracles He has performed throughout the ages), He can certainly make Himself present in the Eucharist. So sad that people are so afraid of FAITH, and to proclaim it.

~~~~~~~~

One topic of exploration during the SFO Inquiry is the idea of the Penitential Life. Fr David is not a Franciscan, but the one of the missions of the Fathers of Mercy is to make Catholics aware of the necessity of Penance and Confession, and exhort people, challenge people to go and just do it. And not just in the Season of Lent--it needs to be done.

When we were discussing it in group a few months back, the need to change the idea of penance from a bad and negative connotation to a positive one was grasped. I do remember my First Confession--I was terrified. I had it in my head that it was fearsome and something along the lines of the worst days of the Inquisition, fiery stakes and all.

Since my "return" to the Church about 8 years ago, every time I have gone to my once-yearly confession it's gotten easier. The Cursillo made me get over my--fear? that's not the word I really want, but the closest I can find at the moment--of it, and I'm still not comfortable in it, but I will say this: since last night, I am now "over" that fear and whatever, and as part of my Franciscan journey I intend to go no less than once a month. Once a year is hardly enough.

Here is an excellent site for reflection, the Exhortation of St. Francis to the Brothers and Sisters of Penance (circa 1210-1215). Francis said:

"Oh, how happy and blessed are these men and women when they do these things and persevere in doing them, because the spirit of the Lord will rest upon them and he will make his home and dwelling among them, and they are the sons of the heavenly Father, whose works they do, and they are the spouses, brothers, and mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Who wouldn't want to work for that? To purge their sins before God and become clean in heart--which is not that hard--what a reward in heaven!

I myself would never assume I am going straight to heaven; I have caused Christ much heartache in my little life, and I expect time, at the least, in purgatory. If He sends me to Hell, I will accept His Judgment. I pray every day for his forgiveness.

Confessions of the Sorrowful and Contrite Heart

I must confess that my exhaustion led me to not attending Ash Wednesday for the first time in over seven or eight years--since TJ and I started dating. I will, however, attend more of the Parish Mission where the Fathers of Mercy are giving talks and Masses and Confessions.

Confession has always been a hangup... this earliest form of unburdening oneself psychologically is now almost taboo in our society. If you are a professed Catholic, and say to people that you've actually gone to Confession, they look at you as if you're loony. Pooh on them. But I need to go; my heart is sore. And Father David and Father Ben of the aforementioned Order are doing Masses, talks and Confessions twice a day during this week. I think I'll go Tuesday.

This past weekend was our usual First Sunday of the Month meeting for the SFO. I missed last session, as it had been that weekend that Dad said that the doctor has determined that Mom's on the short and final... more about that in a minute. So I was a little befuddled and unprepared. I will tell you that the SFO is a wonderful resource. I love my Franciscan brothers and sisters, even if I am confused and in pain.

Now that we are pushing towards the last part of Inquiry soon, June or so, interviews for Candidacy will be taking place next month. My brain is locked, and I have no idea what to expect. Research does nothing. I need to clear my brain. I do know that it's not what I say in the interview... it is what I *do* that matters. I need to read and remove myself from all my cares, immerse myself in the Franciscan spirit. It's healing.

Reading that last, I know I've veered a little. I know where I need to go, I know that I want the SFO--need it, need the Community, need the structure, want and need the gentle guidance for the life change. But when I watch my mother continue to slide, continue to deny the truth of her oncoming death, watch it ravage my father... it's no wonder that my mind isn't where it should be. This is why I haven't posted in so long. I'm not as focused as I need to be.

In the next couple of weeks I will reflect here and venture on who/what/when/where/why of the SFO in mental preparation of the interviews next month.

I also pray fervently that Mama finds the necessary grace in the weeks to come. Her bitterness and anger is so hard to bear...

All praise be yours, my Lord,
for our Sister Physical Death
from whose embrace no mortal can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin!
Happy are those she finds doing your most holy will!
The second death can do no harm to them.

-St Francis

Still On Track - But It's a Long Haul


...

It doesn't help when I forget my login name... *laughs*

I'm still in the game. I love the Franciscan Charism and the *healthy* Community there is at St Clare.

There is another Fraternity, where I know a lot of the members, and they have a vested interest--like publishing and campaigning--in what I would call a charismatic type; that is, she apparently literally speaks to God. She's been to Rome and knocked on a few important doors. Now, since there's a priest involved that I have a lot of respect for (he married TJ and I, that's how much I adore the man), I have to give it the benefit of the doubt. I do believe that she's devout, a woman of God, a model Catholic--no, it's just my native cynicism.

In the delving into more info and reflection on same, at this juncture probably my only reservation is the liberal lean within the Order. Inclusiveness, well, I can live with that. But when they have liturgical dancing at the Casa de Paz y Bien... and Enneagrams... and... and... oh God, just browse the catalog!

*cries*

But I could handle the Spiritual Spa Day of Retreat!

In all seriousness, when we know what Christ really meant, without skewing it to our societal norms, why must the envelope be pushed? It's supposed to be a Catholic Retreat house, for heaven's sake!

Since when is Tai Chi part of Catholic spirituality? Or the Labyrinth? Or finding the meaning in the dark side of dreams? How can one focus on the Holy Trinity and the mysteries of Scripture when there's more emphasis on the me-me-me, touchy-feely crap going on? The catalog reads more like the one at Mesa Community, or Tempe Parks and Rec.

But Franciscanism, much like the Jesuits, leans to that end of the spectrum. I read enough to know that the Jesuits had a collective heart attack when when it was announced Josephum... Cardinalem Ratzinger-- and I know of one friar who was publicly disdainful in a homily abou the blessed and wonderful election of the Holy Father.

That's probably going to be my hardest row to hoe: reconciling the liberalism of the Order with my innate conservatism.

Prayer Requests - Need Spiritual Help

1. For Mom, who is sliding more and more, and now in the throes of a depression I'm not sure she'll pull out of... and for Dad, who sees nothing but dead ends in this situation. It's such a long goodbye, and not an easy task.
2. For Aunt Phyllis, whose son, Chris, died earlier this week. She's lost her husband and her son in the span of six weeks. So sad and tragic.
3. For Monsignor Edward Ryle, the Conscience of the Capitol, greatly beloved in the Diocese of Phoenix for his dedication and his hard work; found by friends (including the governor) unconscious at his home. He is at Barrows Neurological Center in Phoenix; he is in critical condition and unresponsive (although responding to pain stimuli), and his vitals are stable.
4. For the 92 year old husband of a fellow inquirer in the SFO, who caught a cold last friday and has become increasingly ill.

I'm struggling to keep my spirits up; Mom's depression has really socked into me. I'd rather see her with her usual spitting of nails rather than this resignation. I don't know what to do other than pray.

I'm not ashamed of my Christianity, and not of my Catholicism, either! So there!

Wandering around in Blogland (tho' I should register in St Blog's Parish, probably), I was at the Shrine of the Holy Whapping, where there's an entry about a tacky fiber optic Nativity with comments, with a link to the Cavalcade of Bad Nativities--even a nativity belt buckle!! (GAG!) And at Holy Whapping, I asked a question in those comments, something I had thought about driving to the house of my SFO orientation directors' house on Friday night: how many Nativity scenes have you seen around?

I have one. I really wanted one of those that are about two grand just for the basic set, but like most of middle America, I have to settle for Wal-Mart. It's actually not too bad, the figures aren't too cartoonish, and they fit perfectly under my juvenile trees out in front.

But as I was driving around that neighborhood on Friday, it was just dark, and lights were coming on in peoples' yards. Tons of those silly and cute inflatable Santas that pop in and out of the chimneys; lots of snowmen (in Phoenix?), some nice light shows, the grapevine reindeer, and the like. Nice and unoffensive stuff.

But out of maybe two dozen houses I passed, I saw ONE house with a Nativity in the yard. And it was tiny, as if to be inconspicuous, maybe enough to be ashamed--and was a little too Precious Moments for my taste, but... Gasp! I was all excited, however, and rolled down my window and applauded.

It got me thinking: are we of the Christian faith ashamed to be so in this day of secularism? Are we skeeeeeeeeered? Are we so inundated and fearful that we as a whole are bowing to the tiny but hugely squeaky wheel that claims offense?

Not me, dammit.

And so far I've gotten a lot of praise and no griping so far. And nothing has been stolen yet, even with a plethora of teens in the neighborhood.

I will post a pic as soon as I find the charger to the camera. Promise.

And I am, at this jucture, assless--have to wait until I can afford one. No ox either, and no wisemen or other "accessories." I have a lil sheep, though--Does that count?

Second Sunday of Advent - December 4th. Second purple candle.

One theme all through the readings is heralding the advent of a Savior and patience in that waiting period; in Isaiah, it says '"...prepare the way of the LORD!" In the Letter of Peter it proclaims, "...waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God..."


The Gospel of Mark talks about John the Baptist. How familiar he is, Father Bruce said--in a way, we understand him: his camel hair shirt, his shouting for repentance, his humility and certainty in saying that "One mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit." We are familiar with baptism, as the Catholic people it is our foundation. Yes, John is familiar.

Father told the story of blind people--in Switzerland, he seemed to recall--who couldn't obtain jobs. So this one brilliant man started a restaurant, run by the blind. Patrons went into a pitch black restaurant, led in by the blind. (See Blinde Kuh for more info--found what he was talking about pretty easily once I got home). He talked about how the people who had their sight all of a sudden was absolutely dependent on those who served them--to seat them, tell the patrons the menu, to cook, to serve--and that at first it can be very disconcerting. But if one has a little faith and trust in those who are serving, then it becomes an enjoyable and pleasurable experience.

Father likened this to what came after John the Baptist--Jesus the Christ. John, even with his eccentricities, is a familiar person. Jesus, however, is more enigmatic, and requires trust and faith. As with being served in pitch black by the blind, it takes trust and faith to do as Christ asks, as He teaches. Without faith, we are nothing, have nothing; without Faith, we have no hope. Hope, of course, centers within Christ.

How awesome to contemplate all that we have in the Son of God if we only trust!

It's already the first Sunday in advent.

Are you ready?


Thanks to Curt Jester...

Where has the time gone? I have a couple of posts sitting in limbo that I haven't posted. I haven't been terribly proficient lately, and I have no excuse. In fact, I need to do some studying for the joint meeting between the St Francis & St Clare Fraternities.

It's been very trying; drop-kicked from my temp assignment, a stressful Thanksgiving, and my Mom's sinking again. The latter is very disconcerting--the doctor is down to the big nasty prescriptions that he gives out only as a last resort. Isn't it a terrible thing when you have a long goodbye situation?

My sister just called, and asked that I start doing research on Catholic burial sites and gather info on arrangements. That's how I want to start the Christmas season: calling the diocesan cemetery folks and talk about *that.*

Lord help me.
~~~~~~
Also, RIP to Ruby, my sister's retriever. She was such a good girl. Sleep peacefully, Rubers.

Thoughts and a Thankful Reflection.


...

...

Well, I can't believe that a month has passed since I've posted. It was twenty (or so) weekdays of 12 hour days, at the end of the last one I found out I was drop-kicked at nine in the evening, which didn't endear the law firm to me with the passive aggressive stunt.

Just as well.

It gave me time to prepare for the descent of my sister, BIL, and Hellboy. It was an OK weekend. Wasn't bad, but I'm sure hankering for that move to the mid-Atlantic states.

I'm thinking of merging blogs. I like the layout & toys on this better.

~~~
I'm thankful for a merciful God.

I'm thankful for life--what a wonderful world we live in.

I'm thankful for the incredible blessing that is my husband. I'm still not sure after almost four years of marriage how or why it was *me* he chose, and it's very humbling.

I'm thankful for parents who cared enough to be my parents first and my friends later.

I'm thankful for this country that allows me to worship in the Roman Catholic Church without having to worry about being stoned, persecuted, or ostracized.

So much to be thankful for.

Thank You, God.

Enough with the political correctness and HAVE FUN on Halloween!!!



I work in an 21 floor building, and the building powers that be decided to have fun and put a pair of those cute skeletons that stand about 5 feet tall--the guy skeleton has a top hat, a chewedjacket and holds a grotty little rose; the chick skeleton has verdigris hair, a rotted papier-mache dress and a cute little headpiece. I think it's one of those that talk if you press a button, too, but thankfully they have disabled that.

Well, there's always one rotten apple: someone's offended because they're a law firm that specializes in estate law and one paralegal complained that it would upset the clients.

Bah humbug to you too, pal.

Ah, if only people would remember what Halloween was all about...



Among many so-called Christians (usually the extremist kind), there is concern that things have gotten out of hand: doesn't Halloween glorify evil?

It's time to remember what ALL HALLOWS EVE is about: it is to emphasize the saints, whose nearly forgotten feast day is the reason for what we now call "Halloween."

The word itself, "Halloween," actually has its origins in the Roman Catholic Church. November 1, "All Hollows Day," or "All Saints Day," is a Catholic day of observance in honor of saints. But, in the 5th century BC, in Celtic Ireland, summer officially ended on October 31. The holiday was called Samhain (sow-en), the Celtic New year.

"Hallow" is the same word for "holy"*, and the contraction "e'en" is an abbreviation of "evening."

The word "Halloween," therefore, is a shortened form of "All Hallows Eve," or All Holies Evening, the day before, or the vigil, of All Saints Day.

This holiday, properly understood and celebrated with all of its fun trappings, can also be a way for all of us to deepen our understanding of our faith. The key to this understanding is close at hand for Catholics--and all Christians--in our love of the communion of saints.

Until the ninth century the Church celebrated the popular feast of All Saints on May 13th, during the season of joy after the Resurrection. This is the light in which we see all the faithful who have died, especially those whose witness to Christ is an inspiration. In 835 the date was deliberately changed to November 1 to Christianize the existing pagan time for remembering the dead—to bring light to the darkness, and hope to the most basic of human fears.

For the first 1,000 years of Christianity there was no collective memorial for All Souls. Relatives and loved ones were remembered at Mass on the anniversary of their death, or until they passed out of living memory. However, by the seventh century monasteries were celebrating an annual Mass for all the deceased of their order, an idea which spread to the laity.

About the year 1030, an influential abbot, St Odilo of Cluny, chose November 2 to commemorate All Souls because it was an obvious companion date and extension of the Feast of All Saints. Both days are reminders that all of us, living and dead, are united in a living communion with Christ and one another. From his Monastery it spread throughout the Church.

In effect, All Hallows Eve became one vigil for two feasts celebrated by the whole Catholic Church: the vigil of both All Saints and All Souls feast days.

In the 16th century at the time of the Reformation, most Protestants (alas!) discarded both the doctrine of the communion of saints and the practice of praying for the dead. All Hallows Eve became "hollow" for them, the vigil of an empty feast day.

"I believe...in the communion of saints," we say every Sunday in the Creed. How many Catholics know what this doctrine really means? You can be assured that they don't connect Halloween with that lovely phrase in the Creed--it's just a time to have fun or play pranks.

Then we get the obvious question from the sadly ignorant: Isn't that idol worshipping?

Do we "worship" or "adore" our beloved saints, as some non-Catholics think? No, nyet, nein, não, nr, αριθ! Not at all. Not even close.

We honor them and learn from their example; adoration belongs to God alone. We ask the saints to pray, or intercede for us the same way we might ask a good friend to pray. It’s comforting to have friends always available to pray with you, a whole "cloud of witnesses," in fact! (see Hebrews 12:1).

So, just like saying "Merry Christmas!" is being threatened, do NOT be afraid to wish someone a...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Carve your Own Pumpkin!!!

So where did the carving of pumpkins come from??? From Halloween Online Magazine

Celebrated for centuries by the Celts of old, Witches and many other nature based religions, it is the most magical night of the year...

On this magical night, glowing jack-o-lanterns, carved from turnips or gourds, were set on porches and in windows to welcome deceased loved ones, but also to act as protection against malevolent spirits. Burning lumps of coal were used inside as a source of light, later to be replaced by candles.

When European settlers, particularly the Irish, arrived in American they found the native pumpkin to be larger, easier to carve and seemed the perfect choice for jack-o-lanterns. Halloween didn't really catch on big in this country until the late 1800's and has been celebrated in so many ways ever since!

Pumpkins are indigenous to the western hemisphere and were completely unknown in Europe before the time of Columbus. In 1584, the French explorer Jacques Cartier reported from the St. Lawrence region that he had found "gros melons", which was translated into English as "ponpions," or pumpkins. In fact, pumpkins have been grown in America for over 5,000 years. Native Americans called pumpkins "isquotersquash."

The things you learn! My, my...



Have a blessed and safe HALLOWEEN!!




__________________________
* In the Spanish language, "santos" means 'saints,' but equally 'holies'--hence, 'todos los santos,' is All Saints, common name in Hispanic cultures, usually as a middle name. When one sees the name of the city of San Diego, California--translated loosely as Saint James--"san" is the shortened version of "santo"; the California city and Mission of Santa Barbara is from the same root, only the feminine of the appellation. [/end language lesson]

Promises, promises...

Where has October gone? I know I swore to stay on top of my posts. Sorry.

Still hanging with the SFO. Drawn to it more every day. I'll post things this weekend when I have time to reflect and concentrate. I've been doing my "homework" and reading a biography of Francis by Omer Englebert.

Mom back in ICU whilst I wandered San Diego. Imagine my shock when Dad told me today when I called to check in--uh, thanks for letting me know... Mom all depressed.

Cousin Susie came out of the woodwork. Haven't talked to her in nearly 2 years. Better late than never.

Going to bed. Have a blessed week, and may God give you His peace.

How Sinful are You? (via Angry Twins)

Your Deadly Sins

Sloth: 40%

Envy: 20%

Gluttony: 20%

Wrath: 20%

Greed: 0%

Lust: 0%

Pride: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 14%

You will die with your hand down your underwear, watching Star Trek.

How Sinful Are You?

OMG... that is *so* wrong!

Heh.

Slothful and Envious and Gluttonous! How 'bout that after five questions?

14%... still pretty good odds, though!