May. Month to pray.

And now it is May!



It is a month to pray the rosary; to start if you haven't ever done it and wondered about it. 
To learn a bit more about it if you don't understand it (no it's not deifying Mary, it's asking for prayers). It's a month of springtime and beauty, and I have found such comfort and grace in this prayer of contemplation.
This video above is from last year and is about praying for our dedicated priests.  Most of the priests in this world are good holy men, who give their lives in service and prayer, for us.  They can certainly use some of our prayers, right back.
Think about it.
It's easier than it looks and it's May!
All the hip folks are doing it!
Happy May!

Oh, Mercy Me

Divine Mercy

Painting, "Divine Mercy" Michael O'Brian

It is Divine Mercy Sunday.

I don't know about you, but I need all the mercy I can get.  

For quite some time, I didn't pay much attention to this devotion.  It seemed goofy, in a way. Sorry, but it did. I sometimes shy away from things that I haven't fully looked into and/or fully understand. And also, frankly, the more sentimentalized  traditional imagery and ever more sentimentalized editions of this devotion didn't set well with me, or my oddball aesthetic.  I know, shallow perhaps, but there it is.  My reality.

Anyhow, but as I learn more about this devotion, I am learning about the simple beauty of it.  And I think it is what we all crave.  Mercy.  Just that.  Just a little mercy. 

To that end, the Church recognized today,  the first Sunday after Easter, as Divine Mercy Sunday.  Because Easter is ALL about Mercy, Divine Mercy.  If it is not about mercy, really, there is no real reason to even get out of bed.  But it is.  I know it, heart and soul. 

So today, I join in the prayer:

"....for the sake of His sorrowful passion, 

Have Mercy on us, and on the whole world."

Happy Easter...still easter....yay.....

**reposted from last year, because this says it for me**

Setting Fire

Today is the feast day of another of my favorite saints, more so now than ever: St. Catherine of Siena.
Siena also happens to be one of my top two favorite towns in Italy, I loved it there!
So much to say about this saint, but this quote from this amazing holy faithful pushy humble strong woman, Doctor of the Church, really sums it up:

"If you are who God made you to be, you will set the whole world on fire!"
-St. Catherine

The Silence of Holy Saturday

Shhh.
Listen.
Be still.
I know...it's that day.
It's the day of the tomb.
Silent as a tomb....

Holy Saturday is a day of silence.

 painting Michael O'Brian

It is the tomb.
It is the day of grieving and being still, quiet for it...or mindful of it and trying to find that still silent spot inside; ever difficult in our modern days and my busy loud life.
This is the day when the tabernacles, across the world, are barren.
And the emptiness is visceral.
I feel it.
I think the world feels it.
I do.

Tonight is the vigil and the promise of the return of the light, Light itself.
But for today. 
It is the deposition, the tomb.

And the noise, it's a racket.  

My kids and the calling across the house a jangle of sound.

But even my kids, loud always, anticipating the joy and sugar of Easter tomorrow...they see the solemnity of this day, a little tiny bit.

The prayers are solemn, the see it, feel it, hear it as we pray through this day.

I crave to carve out some quieting time this day.  

I crave to go sit in adoration, but the tabernacle - it's empty. 

I feel the loss and out of sorts, even as I prep for tonight and tomorrow.  

It's so often a cranky fussy day, because exactly this out of alignment, the soul knows this marking and reacts with a squeezed ache.  

It is noisy in this silence, the noise of my children yes but the noise of my heart beating, looking for Him and thinking of her weeping this day.

It is a clanging silence....

So.  We wait.

How Can this Day be Good?

Detail of painting, Tissot

Good Friday.
High Holy Day.
The Passion of Christ.
Via Dolorosa.
Crucifixion.
Utter sorrow.
Fasting.
Veneration of the Cross.
Empty tabernacles.
Hungry, tired, hard, sad.

Really, horror.

Nikolaï Gay (1831-1894)

Unfathomable.
An unspeakable, truly, tough day.
Good, yes, but the hardest most unspeakable kind of good.

A mystery of good.

Painting by Tissot, "What Christ saw from the Cross"

But yes, glorious good; if unseen as such then, and sometimes now.
We wait.
*Reposted from several years ago*

A Different Night

"Why is this night different from any other night?"

It is Holy Thursday.
The first day of the Triduum.
It's also known as Maundy Thursday
But, no matter the term used, it's a high holy day, and it's one of the ones that is rich and complex and beautiful and difficult all at the same time.

(And, as an aside, everyone I know is kind of suffering all sorts of larger and smaller slings and arrows this week, escalating today.  Right.  Exactly. I guess that's how we know it's Holy Week and we get to participate in our own mini-wimpy-passion....because "we can't handle the truth" {to paraphrase Jack} of the real experience.  Just saying.....)

Sadao Watanabe print

Tonight the Mass remembers that special Passover supper, the last supper.  This is the supper of the institution of the Eucharist.  The disciples didn't even really realize what was going on...how typical, then, and now.  But, oh the beauty of it all.

  painting by Juan De (Vicente) Juanes (Masip).

So too, this night, Christ washed their feet, showing them how to be the servant of servants that they would be called to be...that we are called to be.  How often do I forget that one? Daily, how many times a day is the better question.

Sigh.  This is such a complex layered night.  I can't begin to do it justice.  The emotions range all over the map: from the quiet humbling of the washing of the feet, to the beauty of the institution of the eucharist, to the stripping of the altar and processing out that brings me to blinking away the tears.....It's a rigorous beautiful piercing night. For me, this night does begin the vigil...the vigil that doesn't end until the close of Saturday night's vigil Mass (finishing Sunday).   

"Why is this night different from any other night?"  
This is one of the Passover questions.  So too, it is our question, mine.
And these three days ahead, I get to ponder it and pray over it and grow my heart bigger to answer it well, or try.

There is also a long tradition of a late Holy Thursday night service, called Tenebrea that means, literally, "shadows" or "darkness."  This service is one of the hardest and most beautiful.  It starts in light and over the course of the service moves to darkness....because these are the three days of darkness and the greatest of suffering.  It ends with a cacophony of clapping wood.  It jangles and disturbs me deep inside, as it should, as it's meant to.  The Sisters of Carmel explain it well, go read the whole thing here, but below is a snip from it:

 

There is placed in the sanctuary, near the altar, a large triangular candlestick holding fifteen candles. At the end of each psalm or canticle, one of these fifteen candles is extinguished, but the one which is placed at the top of the triangle is left lighted. During the singing of the Benedictus (the Canticle of Zachary at the end of Lauds), six other candles on the altar are also put out. Then the master of ceremonies takes the lighted candle from the triangle and holds it upon the altar while the choir repeats the antiphon after the canticle, after which she hides it behind the altar during the recitation of the Christus antiphon and final prayer. As soon as this prayer is finished, a noise is made with the seats of the stalls in the choir, which continues until the candle is brought from behind the altar, and shows, by its light, that the Office of Tenebrae is over.

Wishing you a mindful and Blessed Triduum.

The Palms

Waking up today....this was rolling through my head.



Not exactly the Basilica where Buddybug and Booboo are this morning...But still, apropos of the day I suppose.

Notre Dame Basilica, ah, bliss.

 I would just like to point out that, yes, I am quite well aware of how this opening video dates me and reaffirms just how old I am.  Additionally, I would like to point out that this is one of the unspoken curses of growing up in the 70's (For the most part). This was formative stuff for me.  I know! It's a wonder I came back to the church at all, no? But, thanks be to God, I did and now I get to live with some scars: a wedding anniversary during lent (doh) and this song/video rolling through my mind as an earworm every single year on Palm Sunday.

But still, apropos of the day I suppose.
Today is one of the longest Masses of the year, and it's one of the hard ones. Sure it seems like it's all the rejoicing like in the video above...but no we also have to read the long reading of when it all turns and Christ is taken to Pilate, and in the liturgy we respond, "Crucify him!" again and again.
I HATE that.
It makes me cringe.
It hurts and makes me wince.
I often want to stand silent, thinking, "No. I won't. I can't say that."
But of course, I do, darn near every day in my selfish thoughtless words and snapping temper.
So, sure I could stand there and be silent today.....but oh, what a hypocrite.
And since I'm already that already too.....I will quietly, achingly whisper, "Crucify him" and try not to cry.

For more, ever so much better stuff on Palm Sunday, go here and here and, always, go here. anytime!

** Note: Palm Sunday Mass with toddlers means you don't actually hear all the readings because you are juggling small boys who are playing swords with the palms that are given out. Long Mass, somber readings (Mark 14:1-15: 47), (Psalm 22), crowded pews, and toys, erk, palms...equals chaotic Mass!**

C'mon Rain

Georgia O'Keefe, Horses Skull on Blue, 1030

It's lent.  The last full week of lent, actually.
Maybe that's why its so hard.
Its quiet.
  Slow.  Heavy.  Parched.
  These last days.
They are a dust of indigo.
A hollow.... of what?
A mere funk?
Something more?
Maybe, but not what we might think.
Not permanent or medical.
Spiritual.
I think it is a hollow.

I am fallow.

I am, viscerally, waiting.
And my body and soul senses it; even before my intellect can process and analyze it.
I turn in when the quiet comes to the house.
And its good, that, but its hard. It brings unbidden sadness and constriction.
The gifts of busy with my clanging days offset this, and force me to see this flip side of the hard fallow time now.
The call to put that hollow hard into service, to serve, to draw myself bodily out of my head and heart by tangibly touching serving setting out to others.
My children call me back out; my husband looks over the car at me, with squinting eyes, gauging it all.
Considering.
He calls me during the quiet of the day.
I tell him it is just this time, this fallow hardness of lent.
It is here and I feel it.
And I don't want to, not really.
But I think I must and really, maybe I do want that still indigo dust.
Because its the desert.
Its dry.
I thirst.
So does He.
Ah, now I get it; I understand a glimmer bit more.
Lent.
Its dry. Hard.
Desert fallow,
an open mouth waiting for the life giving rain.
But...
Easter - around the corner.
The smell of drops on the air, days off, faint. 
C’mon rain.

Louisa McElwain, Desert Rain God, Oil on Canvas, 54" x 72 "

Announcing.

 Painting by John Collier.

 Announcing: Putting out a message: Annunciation: Hey there, listen up....

See, it's all the same thing, essentially.

Today is the Solemnity of the Annunciation.
Now you all know that this feast just resonates with me.  For me.
I wrote about some of the obvious reasons, here, last year.  

{I'm working a little bit from last year here as well....adding my current thoughts to the ones that still hold.}
Really, I could and probably should, meditate on this feast, these images for a long time, oh...for the rest of my days.  Maybe I'd be a better person.  Surely, I'd be a better mom. Surely my faith would grow.

Because this feast is all about the letting go. 
It's about the letting go, in blind faith...the kind of faith I can only dream of, reach toward, and pray for a glimmer.
That kind of faith, that kind of willingness to "let go" and accept challenging-don't-know-the-road-ahead-but-I'll-keep-on-and-do-my-best-without-whining-endlessly-and-relentlessly-nagging-questioning sort of faith just astounds me.  

Humbles me.  

Blows my mind.  Still.  Ever. 

But she did. 
Mary was a girl, a mere girl.  Not old, with decades of life to measure the probability of it turning out ok in the end, or to compare to another girl she heard of in the same spot.  She had no measuring stick but faith.  And she was able to hold her breath, think about it for a moment (Because she was not programmed like a robot, she could have said 'no,'....Indeed, we are taught that all of creation held it's breath.)...and say, "fiat."
Fiat.
Ok.
I'll do it.  "Thy will be done, not mine."

 Painting by Henry Tanner.

Ok, right there, there it is again.  That hard stone to trip over; the one that lands me flat on my face, every time.  "Your will be done, not mine." "Your will."  "I'll go with it."
Simple, right?
Seems so.
Should be.
But no.  Oh my, no. Not at all.

And she was surely scared, and unsure, and didn't understand, and thought it's impossible, c'mon.  But, somehow, her heart of hearts, her very soul twinged and twanged and she knew.  She KNEW, that this was the real deal - the realest deal.  And so she bowed her head.  She said "ok." "Yes." Maybe one of the most beautiful words in language, top ranks for sure:
"Fiat."


And so, ever still, I look to her as an example of  how to do it right.
I look to her for inspiration that it can really be ok even when it seems impossible and  you just don't know how to move ahead and you're stepping into the dark without a light to read this new map you've been given.

 One of our referral pics, he was so small!

I look to this feast as a reminder and connection to my own Gabriel, my Gabriel Tariku... and how scary that was and how amazing that unknown can be.

I look to this feast, that fiat, and remember that we all get the chance, again and again, to say "Fiat."

I see another young girl who has done that, again and again.
And who does so, every day as she navigates a new huge world, full of wonders and hard confusing things both, struggles to learn and adapt and grieve and heal and grow and reclaim joy all at the same time.
And I know she says "fiat."
I think she whispers it, but oh, I know she does say it, again and again.
And she is a little mini annunciation for me, every day.
Will I carry her? Will I love her? Will I teach her? Will I let her teach me?
I know she says "Fiat."
And so, so do I.  

I watch my son as he works through big decisions and changes.
He desires to say "fiat," indeed,  he is saying so but it is so big that it takes prayer and a heart ready to be cracked open to the unknown.

He will navigate a whole new world and yet one that is already so much home to him, perhaps.
And so on this special feast day, I whisper ever more prayers for him as well.
This process, his process and his changes, bring about my own, new and daily fiat too.  Stupidly so, as this one is not mine to whisper and yet, it is.   Because if I do so too, then it helps him in whatever way he is to go.  To know that I am giving him to his yes too, no holding back.

This"fiat stuff"...it's a big blind breathtaking step.  Every time.
And THAT is why we celebrate it with a big feast.
Because it's a celebration of faith and love.
And deep breaths: fear into faith into joy. 
Every time.

Happy Feast of the Annunciation!

Hail Mary, full of grace
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women
and blessed
is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, mother of God
Pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death. Amen

No Wiping!

Vanitas.
Today is all about this, it's Ash Wednesday.
The saying, "Vanitas, all is vanitas, " is the theme of the day on so many levels.
As the priest smudges the ashes (Last year's blessed palms from Palm Sunday) on your forehead, he says "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
So, if that doesn't get ya thinking about your mortality, I don't know what will.
It's a somber Mass.
A somber day, of fasting and penance.
It's supposed to be.
Because today marks the start of lent, a penitential season, where we work to strip away the things that hinder us from walking closer to God.  We are given six weeks, forty days, to try and try again, to detach from things that hook us in and keep us looking at ourselves: our vanities.

It's the ultimate vanity, that constant head swivel back to us (ok, sigh, me), our looks, our wants, our desires comforts distractions.  We/I all do it, all the time.  We are practically programed to do so, but the Church in her wisdom gives us an entire season to work on this.  No, not to try to lose those last ten pounds, or finally quit smoking, but rather to shed some of the thorny tangles that that keep us mired in the brier patch of ourselves.  Those stickery snags that keep us from walking forward a step or two into holiness or just a step or two closer to God and his perfect will for us.

It takes the whole season to even go a step or two I think, or at least, it does for me.  Because I botch it up, every year.  I've even learned to not set my sights too high, for the fall from afar is so discouraging that it's then a temptation to just ditch it.  Just like those ever failed New Year's resolutions.  (I don't do those either, anymore). 
 **To that end, I'd like to point out that a mere TWO hours into this Lenten season I'd already stepped on a landmine and blown up: mom fail. 

Kinda made me feel like I might as well draw a hot bath, mix a lemon drop martini, grab a box of chocolate and surf facebook......and it was only seven a.m.!!

Yeah, so, I was in dire need of Mass....nothing like starting Lent on a stubbed toe and deflated humbled heart.  Perhaps, though, just precisely what I needed, doh.

But, I digress.  That was my Lenten PSA so that you all can feel more hopeful about your Lenten observances.  You're welcome. **
But Lent is not a New Year's resolution, except that it IS the lead up to the New Liturgical Year (starts with Easter Morning).  And it is a kind of pruning to help us spring forth into the new year in better shape, spiritually.

So, today we get to say it out loud.
Or, wear it out loud.
Wear it, all day long.
It's a pain, really, these ashes.
As I mentioned, it's a solemn day.  I'm hungry.  I'm terrible at fasting, I want to whine (and I tend to, no surprise to you I"m sure). 
The ashes, they itch and smudge further and further as the day goes on, often ending up sliding down my cheek a bit or onto the tip of my nose. 
All day, clerks at the store or the drive through of Starbucks will look at you twice and say, "Um, you've got a little something..." and wave their hands around their face and then towards yours. 
Here in the south, I get that more than other parts of the country, where the Catholic ratio is higher.  But even so, I nod and say, "I know.  Ash Wednesday." And then,  usually they blink at me, look away, "Oh."
It's really really tempting to wipe them off.  Or to kind of wipe them off "by mistake" as you fix  your hair or scratch an itch.  Who wants to feel like a dork?
But it's an act of will not to wipe, and that's really the whole point.

Ash Wednesday is not only for Catholics, nor, of course, is lent.
It's for any and all of us.
As hard as it is, it's one of my favorite seasons.  Maybe that's because I am a task oriented gal; but that is precisely what usually trips me up during this season.  
Very easy to fall into the trap of being too legalistic...which is, of course, pride.  Sigh.

I think I like it because my heart really does yearn to grow in holiness, yearns to love better and fuller and the only way I can do that, I know deep inside my soul, is to grow closer to Christ.  And Lent has me on the path - if only for a step or two.
So, I'm tiptoeing to Easter.

I've got my ashes on today and I'm yearning to snack...but I know that is my physical reminder of  my hunger for more in this world and in my stony heart.
 Ashes.
They itch.
They bug me.
But I'm wearing them.
No wiping.

Fat Tuesday!

It's Fat Tuesday! 

Mardi Gras! 

Carnivale! 

Shrove Tuesday!

Yup, it's the last day of Ordinary Time, the day before Ash Wednesday.  So, today is the feast, the fest, the fete...the party.  I love the folklore and history of today, the tradition of pancakes for supper - to use up the fats and dairy stuff in the house before the ascetic season of Lent.  Nowadays, that "using it up before it goes bad" isn't a factor so much, but I love the tradition anyhow.  

I have stewed about finalizing my Lenten efforts.  This article is a good one, with a good reminder and perspective.  It's very easy for me to give up too much of or the 'wrong' food items.  It's so ingrained for me to give up some foodstuff that I feel like a cheat if I don't somehow.  And  yet, I have food issues (Because I have arrested development and am like a 4 year old if told I can't have something......infantile, I know.)  due to my lack of discipline, the effects of said infantile issues on my children (Yes, cranky much? And, yes, again, my failing, I realize that, thank you very much), and being diabetic my body just whacks out easily somehow it seems. 

Yeah, I think that the bulk of my Lenten consideration needs to be centered around prayer and silence.  I'm always crazy distracted in prayer, and well, I'm  never very good at silence.  

I crave it, but even when I find it, I can't seem to get my whirling dervish of a mind to slow down and shut up.  

Really.  

So, to that end, I think I need to work on that.   

Shut up and listen for pete's sake.  Please.

For today, I once again refer you to the marvelous supersite of all things Lent: questions, resources, history, ideas: Aggie Catholics.  

**disclaimer: this post is largely from last year, because I've got that distracted mind and am juggling multi issues at home.  So, I'm taking a short cut. It's allowed today, I looked it up.**

So, tomorrow: Into the Desert, Lent begins.

Today: 

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

What's in a name?

Or should I ask, what's in a chair?
Who's in a chair?
Sounds like it's leaning towards that old "Who's on First?" schtick, but not.  So not.

Ok, you guessed it: Peter!
Cephas, The Rock!
It's the feast of the Chair of St. Peter.
Which isn't really about that cool looking chair above, though it is and it isn't….
It's all about Matthew 16:13-20, you know:

"….Christ says, "Who do they say that I am?" "Who do you say that I am?" and "Simon Peter said in reply, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." 
So Christ Jesus said to him in reply, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.

And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church,  and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.

I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."

El Greco, St Peter, Monasterio di San Lorenzo

You know, that's some powerful renaming there.  And this feast helps us remember that God himself, in Christ set up his church on earth on the Rock, on Cephas, on Peter.  But it's not really just on the man.  Because he was a MAN, and was gonna die in the normal course of events, no? Of course, so it's also the seat, his seat, his Chair, if you will.  Just like there can be presidents' in succession, there are the successor to Peter, the Bishop of Rome, in succession as well.  It's a cool system, no surprise.  

So, that's some chair.  

And the division and strife we have now and that is our very human nature, and  has been with us for centuries, is not what it's meant to be.  Just saying.  

Happy Feast Day of the Chair of St. Peter….to our Pope! 

Lourdes and Moms

from Basilica of Pius X, at Lourdes,
h/t: Contemplative Haven Blog

It's the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes.
Moms, she's our patron, as always.
Read/pray the litany prayer below and remember how she, as a mom, cares and prays for us all:

Holy Mary, pray for us. 
Holy Mother of God, pray for us. 
Mother of Christ, pray for us. 
Mother of our Saviour, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, help of Christians, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, source of love, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, mother of the poor, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, mother of the handicapped, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, mother of orphans, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, mother of all children, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, mother of all nations, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, mother of the Church, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, friend of the lonely, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, comforter of those who mourn, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, shelter of the homeless, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, guide of travelers, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, strength of the weak, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, refuge of sinners, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, comforter of the suffering, pray for us. 
Our Lady of Lourdes, help of the dying, pray for us. 
Queen of Heaven, pray for us. 
Queen of peace, pray for us

Happy Feast Day, moms!

Candlemas

It's the Feast of the Presentation!
Also known as Candlemas.
(Known as Candlemas because at this Mass the candles for the year would be blessed…I love the tiny details, you know).
You may now, officially, take down all your Christmas decor, and the tree.
Yup, if you're old school, this is when you take down the tree. Imagine!
Kinda cool though, really.  If you think that they must have had different ways of doing Christmas trees, or else all those homes would have gone up in flames by now.  But again, my mind wanders…

This feast takes place forty days after the birth of Christ; it's the feast of his presentation in the temple.
I think about this event often, not only when I pray the fourth decade of the joyous mysteries of the rosary, but lately..well, all the time.  It's that presenting your son to God thing.  Lots to think about there.
Mary, doing the dutiful Jewish mother thing of the era, brought her sweet swaddled baby to the temple, as required, in order to present him to the temple elders.  We all know the story: the old woman, Anna, was hanging out there and she came up to see Mary and the baby.  How often has this happened to us mom's today, an old lady wants to come up close to see your little one?  All the time!

Rembrandt, "The Prophetess Anna"

'But this old woman was a prophetess, and she told of the Messiah after seeing the babe Jesus:  

"There was a prophetess too, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher... she never left the temple serving God day . night with fasting and prayer. She came up just at that moment and began to praise God; and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem.'       Luke 2:36-38

 Also in the temple, Simeon, too, got a look at the baby, and he broke into a prayer that the Church still prays every night:

Rembrandt. Simeon with the Christ Child in the Temple. c. 1666-69.

"Lord, now you let your servant go in peace; 

your word has been fulfilled.

My own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people:

A light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel."

Simeon went on to tell Mary that her heart would be "pierced by a sword" after looking at the baby Jesus.
I'm pretty sure Mary's heart ran cold right then and there and she held him tight to her chest.  I'm sure she was ready to grab Joseph and head out, maybe not, being without sin and filled with the Holy Spirit and all.  But I'm thinking her  mama-bear instinct would have still been roaring and she was ready to be done with this obligation. Or maybe that would just be me. Anyhow, all of a sudden, this regulation visit became a mini epiphany, again….and it leads us from Christmas and points us right down the barrel to Easter.  Which, if you think about it, must'a been how Mary had to live her life with this sweet son.  And it's really how we are supposed to live ours.  Not that it's so easy.

St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein) wrote beautifully about this feast.

The Christian mysteries are an indivisible whole. If we become immersed in one, we are led to all the others. Thus the way from Bethlehem leads inevitably to Golgotha, from the crib to the cross. When the blessed virgin brought the child to the temple, Simeon prophesied that her soul would be pierced by a sword, that this child was set for the fall and the resurrection of many, for a sign that would be contradicted. His prophecy announced the passion, the fight between light and darkness that already showed itself before the crib.

Happy Candlemas.  Lots to think about.

Dumb Ox

It's the Feast day of St. Thomas Aquinas!

Now there are many reasons to be fond of St. Thomas Aquinas, especially here in our little/big family.  First off, of course, there is my dearest Coffeedoc, who, as we all know, is really named Thomas.  Such a great name.

Other reasons run from loving the Dominicans, in general, and these ones, in particular, and also these.....to the fact that he is a patron of scholars and academics, he was underestimated and considered to be slow; dim even.  Why yes, perhaps that's why I personally have always been extra fond of him, now that you mention it!

 Our wonderful Nashville Dominicans....love them!

Little did his contemporaries know, he was a genius.  A future Doctor of the Church; by which I mean, he is an "authorized teacher" of the Church.   You want to learn good solid doctrine? Go read up on some St. Thomas Aquinas! Anyhow, this silent genius was also made fun of, just like so many of us, he was, um, larger than the standard....and between his silence and his bulk he was often called the "Dumb Ox."  Awwww.  That's just mean.  And at University!  Sheesh!

Anyhow, the point being: he is a saint for us all.  If you a hyper intellectual, a struggling student, someone struggling with their excess girth, ahem, someone who is underestimated, bullied, teachers, Italians, aficionados of Italy....you name it.  In our house we will have a particular devotion to St. Thomas, asking him for prayers for our Buddybug as he ventures forth, and might well need St. Thomas as a patron after graduation.  Ok, we all do, so that settles that.

But really, almost any way you look at it, or him, St. Thomas Aquinas is a good egg, all around.  

St. Thomas Aquinas is a saint to learn a bit more about, and one much needed in our confused post modern times.  

 

Happy Feast Day!
St. Thomas Aquinas, pray for us!

Knock me off my feet...erp..horse.....

 The Conversion of Saul
Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni
1542-45

Today is the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul.

**I'm reposting this from last year, because I'm still resistant to change and I'm still thinking hard about all this stuff. I guess that's why this feast is on the liturgical calendar: so we will keep revisiting it.  And so, I am:**

Now, we all know St. Paul, he's a big fish - so to speak.  No matter your denomination, he's a 'heavy hitter.'  But I kind of like that today we are not remembering just him, but specifically his conversion.  And really, this IS one of the really fascinating things about Paul, for me anyhow.  Maybe because I am SO resistant to change.  And Paul, he should be (if he isn't already) the patron saint of change, of stubborn people, of opinionated strong-willed folks.  Oh gee, maybe he's been one on MY patrons all along and I am only now figuring it out.  Doh!

But I digress.  Anyhow.  Paul's conversion fascinates me.  It resonates with me.  Not because I'm all about persecuting innocent folks (I hope. Hush, Jon, I heard that!).  But rather, it's because he was SO sure he was right, and filled with such pride and anger and intent about it all.  It was his mission to search out and imprison Christians-followers of Christ.  He HATED them.

And I find that really so intriguing, and so telling, and apropos of today.  Isn't that just what is going on today? In our modern, oh-so-enlightened, world?  We all do the same darn thing.  Sometimes even to the same levels of persecution and self-righteous surety.  Even the hate.  But the point is just this: Saul/Paul (he was born Saul, of course, and renamed Paul by Christ at his conversion) didn't KNOW.  He thought he knew it all, all about those Christians, all about what they were about.  But he was wrong.  He didn't KNOW them.  His hatred of them was manufactured from his own pride and ignorance and misguided ideas.

Oh.  Ouch.

How often do I do that?  Too often.
How often does the world, the media, the shouting commentator, do that?  All the time.

And I think that maybe we all need to get knocked off our horse now and then.  I know I do.  And really, literally, Saul was KNOCKED off his horse (which I just love, such a great real life thing to happen, sorry Paul, but I do, love that).  Blinded by the light of Christ.  And that light, really SEEING him, and being called by name by him...it changed everything.  It was Saul's conversion.  It converted his whole self, down to his very name.  And he let it.

He let it change him.

That's the second part of this that I have to just sit down and contemplate, for the rest of  my life.  Every day.  And still it will boggle my mind.  Because isn't that the hardest thing? Ok, for me, I think it is.  Change.  I struggle with it, all the time, every day just about.  I resist the big changes, drag my heels through them, or pretend I'm not resisting and steamroll through them to find the new (as close as possible to the old) normal to get back to my comfort zone.  I hate being out of my comfort zone.  Hate it.  But Paul embraced that, in a humbling yet total all-in way.  And in doing so, he changed the world. Whoa. That's something for me to think about.

So, enough blathering.  Enjoy this feast day.  I think it's a cool one, hip and modern in its own way.  Timeless.

Happy Feast of Conversion of St. Paul!
St. Paul, pray for us!

Intro to the Saint of the "Devout Life"

It is the feast of St. Francis de Sales!
He is one of my favs...one of the ones I turn to when I need to get back on track, or discern, or remind myself how to pray better, more fully.  Thus, I'm reposting this from last year...he has been a favorite and a biggie for a heck of a lot longer than I've been blogging.  And some things don't change, happily so.  Therefore, read on for a reminder of this super saint:

This saint, this man has been deemed one of the Doctors of the Church, meaning one who's writings and ideas are formational; the depth and understanding of their faith and the orthodoxy of their theology is held in highest esteem.

His book, "Introduction to the Devout Life" is a classic and a challenge - to my way of life and thinking and being. It humbles me: when I read (or reread) it, I tend to hang my head and think, "dang, right, gee whiz....oh, very good, man!" (It is initially difficult to get past his literary device of addessing his writing to "Philothea" {student} but once you do, you're good to go/read/soak it in.) I recommend it to anyone, it's very well worth the effort.

This saint is one of my favorite writers and a gentle soul. He was known for his gentle kind ways
and his simple clear explanations. He was great friends with another saint I love, St. Jane de Chantal. He taught her to be a saint 'where she was', in her station in life....she didn't have to go be a desert hermit or do heroic acts, but rather quietly live a holy life, where she was (which is of course, SO much easier said than done!).

Although he earned degrees in both law and theology, he realized he had a vocation to the priesthood and ultmately even became Bishop of Geneva. He is the patron of writers and journalists, so he is also a timely saint, in this era of crazy media and bloggers all taking up their own little mini journals...like me. This prayer below, from his Treatise on the Love of God, shows why he is so good, and why I hang my head and see, once again, just how far I have to go. sigh.

Prayer of Dedication by St. Francis de Sales

Lord, I am yours, and I must belong to no one but you. My soul is yours, and must live only by you. My will is yours, and must love only for you. I must love you as my first cause, since I am from you. I must love you as my end and rest, since I am for you. I must love you more than my own being, since my being subsists by you. I must love you more than myself, since I am all yours and all in you. Amen.

Little Lambs...

St. Agnes by El Greco

It's the feast of St Agnes.
She is one of the early martyrs, and one of the young ones.  One of the lambs, really.  The innocent. One of the ones who even at the young age of twelve or thirteen, could stand up for her faith.  Immediately after a Roman imperial edict against the Christians (they did that sort of thing in the 300's), she stood up and claimed her faith as a Christian.  And then was, despite her youth, taken, tortured, and executed.  Now, I can only presume her family (nobles) tried to shield her and protect her...but then again, perhaps not.  Imperial edicts were nothing to sneeze at.  I'm sure there was much more drama involved than the various accounts lead us to believe....but the result remains.  A young, young girl was martyred for her faith.  It happens even today, it happened way back then.  Because it does, we need to mark it and remember those who stood strong, knowing the truth and standing by it...no matter what.

From evening prayer:

Almighty and everlasting God, you choose those whom the world deems powerless to put the powerful to shame: Grant us so to cherish the memory of your youthful martyr Agnes, that we may share her pure and steadfast faith in you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Ordinary

Ordinary time, liturgically speaking, began a week ago.
Ordinary time, mom speak, did and then again did not begin a week ago as my kids are still home and not in regular ordinary school time: holidays, in-service days, snow and ice days have still botched up our routine days.  Much griping on my part in my heart (and more than I should out loud) ensues.

Confused? I know, me too!
Sigh...let me begin with the beauty of it, that's always best.

Ordinary time in our liturgical year is the "regular" or "Ordinary" days of the year; the days not of a special season such as Advent or Lent or Christmas or Easter.  See? They are not marked or bracketed, they are ordinary, normal, routine, whatever you like to call them.  They are the stuff that make up the warp and weft of any given life.
I love them so.

It took me a long time to learn to love them so.
My younger days had me always yearning for the next thing, the next exciting event or season.  I think that is so common, especially when young (By which I mean, shockingly enough even to myself: under forty anymore...yeah, mark that youngsters, I mean  you!).  It feels and/or seems just more fun, more interesting to be immersed in or on the brink of "The Next Big Thing;" even if that thing is simply the next holiday.  It's exciting.  It livens up our dull mundane lives that are filled with the same ol' same ol...the chores and the must do's.  Right?

Well, yeah, to a point.
But just as you will burn out any fine tuned machine by always keeping it revved to the max, so to I believe we burn out our very selves (Fine tuned machines that we are or should be) if we live on high alert at all times.

 Now, don't get me wrong.  I do this.  Some might say (Hsssh, mom, John, I hear you) that I do this (still) all or most of the time.  I have more than many times been accused of being "kinda intense."  Sigh.  I guess I am.  Even when I don't try to be.  I like to be busy, I am high energy, I like to "have things going on." Or, I used to, I know it.  I still do, I admit it, but now I am learning to see and mark and soak into the beauty of the "ordinary."  It's the simple things, stupid....oh dopey Me.
The wisdom of the Church is that we are given this Ordinary time to settle and soak in that.
To remember and touch again that simple self that we are, that really is under all that stuff, all the noise, all the hurry. 

 It's under the chaff, if we but blow with a settling breath....ah there it is again: me.
And when I settle again, I can listen and I can hear God himself whispering to me again.
I can do better. 
...pray better.
...see better.
...listen better.
...give better.
...love better.
I can be a better mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister, lover, thinker, helper, pray-er, me.
Not that I do so...which is why I so need and have learned to love and exhale with ordinary time.

So, there, that is the beauty of it all.  Right there, in the ordinary day before me.  If only I can stop and slow and soak in it.  And therein lies the test, eh?
As goes the liturgical year, we are living in Ordinary Time.
As goes my household and the lurching four different school systems of my kids, we are not.  Not yet.  So, my challenge, which I fail, oh, daily, is to stop and see that even this lurching "school on, school called off" calendar still is part and parcel of ordinary life.
I tend to think it's not.  But when I do that, I am lifting ordinary life right out of it's pocket and trying to make it something it's not: something like a perfect glistening glowing photo spread.  That's a mistake.

  Ordinary life is by definition, kind of a mess.  It needs so much: constant endless tending.  It is this very tending, this ordinary work on a perpetual basis, that forms it's core...again, the warp and weft of the weaving that IS ordinary time.
Even the snow days.