Catholics and the Press

It's no secret that the Media hates us but if we are to be honest...it's partially our fault. 

Recently I happened to witness an exchange between a reporter and a Catholic spokesman and was dismayed by the image given to the Reporter about an important Catholic devotion, one that is quite central to our Faith. I also saw others try to explain things to a reporter who had no qualms in asking for details and clarification, citing that this was entirely new to him and he truly wanted to understand.

I believed him.Truth and sincerity were in his expression and body language, conveying slight embarrassment.  I also knew that the people speaking to him had their minds elsewhere and let's face it: it's really hard to explain our beliefs about things we take for granted because they have always been our practice and belief.

It must be terribly confusing for "an outsider", e.g.  the secular press, to come into any religious organization or something associated with a religious organization, and obtain details of an event, people, or person involved in whatever story they happen to be covering.

We bloggers are often the first to condemn the Media (yup, I'm right there in that crowd!) and harp at them for interviewing this or that dissident or mis-informed individual. We're always rolling our eyes and cringing when we hear or read a reporter's summary of our beliefs and practices or how it applies to a situation, and then, if the spokesperson of a particular place is quoted, we either tend to condemn that person as a "dissident" or, more likely, the reporter with some other defamatory label usually lumped in with "The Liberal Media."

I don't think that's really fair. 

Now, don't go off on me in the combox about the general fact that the Media as a whole is, in fact, actually quite liberal. Even most liberals agree with that! And they've got plenty to say about the "conservative" media, too, and I'll stand in line to condemn the "conservative" end, also without qualms.

So let's move past that and actually shine the light on ourselves as Catholics for a moment. It's necessary and we do need to take a good, hard look. 

Like it or not, if something is happening involving a Catholic parish, reporters and big trucks with huge antennae are going to show up and stick microphones in people's faces. We don't have to like that fact; few people do, even those who are trying to get a story into the News in some way. It simply isn't comfortable to be a bug under glass. The only people who are comfortable with it are veteran reporters and news anchors in cozy studios.

Let's look at things from a different perspective

First let's consider the Catholic psyche.

We Catholics often grow up in our faith and we are accustomed to our liturgical worship; it is quiet, it is contained, and it is constant. We don't just have the Mass which is infinite and contains everything in heaven and earth, but we have the Liturgy of the Hours (LOH) seven times per day, or for busy people, the Magnificat magazine (which is often a bridge to the LOH). We have Eucharistic Adoration, Processions (a bit more public than our typical form of prayer!), Rosary, various prayer groups and just a general culture of prayer that is inherent in our religion.


The world does not understand this intense form of prayer because it is not available for public viewing. While it may be emotional, it is hidden and is not open to reveal to observers who expect us to react in a different way. In the world of religion, Catholicism is very introverted for our relationship with Christ is so intense that we have no need to announce to others what we are doing and when.

But the world does not understand this and if we are in crisis or if a group experiences a great event that is somehow related to the Catholic Church, the general public is confused. They confuse our regular prayer cycles and think if it appears we do nothing, we in fact, are doing nothing when the opposite is true.

They are, quite understandably, a bit stymied by the fact that Catholics pray so quietly and in a crisis, we don't "rally" like many do, but we bow our heads and bend our knees and do this privately or in the silence of the Eucharistic Adoration chapel. If we don't have such a chapel, we to to the Sanctuary and we do the same thing with Jesus hidden in the tabernacle.  

Then enter the Press, in some form, mostly secular or participants in a different non-Catholic or non-Christian religion...or no religion at all.  

The Press is supposed to be conditioned to be "unbiased" (Journalism 101) but the reality is they are human beings and as such, they are biased. However, let us, for the sake of the virtue of charity, assume the best of these professionals and hope they really ARE trying to be unbiased, especially when it comes to religion.

Yet, the largely-secular Press, by practice at least, comes into a Catholic parish and is suddenly confronted with all sorts of theological terms: Liturgy, Eucharistic Adoration, Transubstantiation, etc.

Now, think of who is called upon to respond to the Press at a given event:  often it's the Priest, and really, dear Father has his mind on many things. Perhaps his explanation to the media is harried and clipped because while he knows he must give this interview, his heart is with his flock and all that needs to be done to serve them in this given event or crisis. The parish business administrator may be called upon to become the Spokesman and you know what? That person may not even be Catholic as his job calls for knowledge of business, not theology. He may give an explanation of a Catholic practice of which he has rudimentary knowledge and may even admire, but if he doesn't share the Faith or have direct knowledge through shared participation in a given devotion, he may get the explanation wrong.

It's also quite possible that the person giving the interview to the Press has his or her mind on the larger community, and out of lack of faith, fears our beliefs are not palatable to the general public, and further, may not have a succinct explanation of it. The reporters need word bites, not long theological treatises. So the spokesman bungle the explanation, or, more likely, hedges the explanation to make it seem like something other than what it is...maybe something more Protestant or more "generic" to the allegedly larger non-believing crowd.

Inherent Catholic Culture

As it is, what I'll call "orthodox Catholics" who tend to prefer the quiet, unobtrusive liturgical prayer that characterizes our culture are not very likely to step up to the mike and speak for us. It's just not part of our collective Catholic personality to want to be in the spotlight. Those Catholics who do, though, unfortunately tend to be overwhelmingly blustery and condemning.  Or perhaps they step up out of a sense of duty or parish role and do the best they can with what they have and just pray it all goes away quickly.

Now, when it comes to the blustery types, common to what the world wants to call we "conservative Catholics",  if I were a Reporter, I'd run far away, quickly, and never darken the door of that parish ever again. I'd certainly never call up such people for an interview. Who wants to be lectured-to and condemned as "liberal media"? Why even risk that?

We so often see that some of the more "socially-active" parishes have much of the media spotlight, and we know that those same parishes for some reason tend to be missing the proper theology to back up their explanations, too. But because the personality of those parishes is more extroverted, they are also more press-oriented and so the Media, as a whole, will naturally gravitate towards them. If you were a member of the Press, wouldn't you look for comment on a Catholic topic at a place where you were more likely to be well-received?

Heck, I would!  And, having worked with difficult people in many places, yeah, I'd call the nice witness before I'd call the one I knew was going to be a problem to me personally in the fulfillment of my job!

Here's the thing, my dear friends...we need to do a serious examination of conscience in our relationship with the Press and we need to see where we are at fault...and what we can do to change it. And really, it has to start with we bloggers because, at least online, we are the face of the Church. And we're scaring the secular  Media away. That's not going to help our cause.

Here are my suggestions for good Catholic PR: 

* If you are called upon to be a spokesperson for you parish or our Catholic-related event and need to use terms like "Eucharistic Adoration" or "Liturgy of the Hours" or "Vespers", for example, you need to have a concise definition fresh at hand, use the actual terms for our practices, and understand that our terms may be new to the reporter who visits us.

* Don't shy away from theological terms - such terms invite questions and questions invite answers which tend to develop friendly relationships. (Keep an eye on evangelization y'all. Maybe not that reporter, but if he or she gets it right because you took the time, it can go a LONG way!) 

* Be open to the reporter's requests for definition - have it handy! Write it down on a card you can hand out, even!  (Hey! Media-ready flash cards! I get dibs on the copyright and patent on that idea!) 

* Don't try to evangelize the reporter. *cough*  They're used to that and expecting it because of the fact they're visiting a church. If you don't do it, it will throw them off and you're more likely to help them get your comments right because they'll relax and stop worrying about how to politely turn down your invitation to their Bible study!  ;-)

* Be patient with the reporter. They're just trying to get a job done, they were sent to you by someone over their head and may not even want to be there. Give them the benefit of the doubt, be gracious, and know that this is part of your job, too, even if you're "just a volunteer". Or "just a random guy".

* Stop painting the Media as a whole with a broad brush condemning all. "The Media" is made up of human beings and they have editors who make certain demands. It isn't the reporters who are "in your face" who have the final word on a story: it's their editors. And probably other people, too, like investors. I don't know. I'm not a journalist. Thank God! (No offense to Journalists!)

UNCONCLUDED CONCLUSION

I guess, ultimately, what I'm trying to say is that if we want to change the state of the Media in the United States, we need to learn to be more friendly TO the Media and stop expecting them to acquiesce to us. We complain they seem to have this or that dissident theologian who has long been discredited, but really, if we don't throw out a welcome mat, they're not going to come pounding down our doors and asking us to comment or explain this or that detail.

We don't have to compromise our Faith; we just need to do better at explaining our beliefs. 

What I witnessed recently renewed my hope in the Press, and I think there are many who would really appreciate a good definition of terms, would be happy to have a knowledgeable Catholic on hand for questions and research, and truly, want to do a good, ethical job of getting the story right.

Maybe, for once, we should give them a chance and recognize that we are our own worst enemy and only we have the power to turn the tide in that regard. 

Fallen Heroes

Over the last few months, when my brother and I have gotten together we've been renting the "Twilight" movies and syncing them with RiffTraxx, which is a humorous voice-over commentary ripping on a given movie. Having heard the "Twilight" riffs were hilarious, we decided it was the ONLY way to watch the series of movies, and of course, we split our sides doing so.

Understand that the viewer controls the volume of the actual movie, and it's important to be able to hear the lines as often the commentary references them. So it was that yes, I watched the Twilight movies (well, through "Eclipse" and observed a few patterns that sadden me.

Initially, I wondered what the draw was on this particular series. While I don't mind the fictional premise, the way it plays out is surprisingly overly-emo and totally...depressing. Yes, really. We got to the end of the second movie and thought it both went on for WAY too long and quite honestly, if I'd been watching it without RiffTraxx I might well have hung myself by the end. (Yes, this is hyperbole!)

Having watched three of them now, though, I considered the patterns. What is the draw of these angst-filled, dark, depressing, overly-emo movies?

The answer came to me at Adoration yesterday and  perhaps more fully this morning at Mass, on the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. It seems odd, doesn't it, to have such a weird Epiphany on such a Holy day in such a Holy season, doesn't it? At the same time, that is how Christ comes to us; in the darkness, in our struggles, as we ponder the profoundly wounded part of our human nature; the nature Jesus took on to restore and glorify.

Bella, the protagonist of the Twilight series, is a teenage girl who happens to be "in love with" an animated corpse and his corpse family (Yeah, they're vampires, but they are non-living ergo, they are corpses and not human any longer), and this corpse is "in love" with her, while at the same time, so is a Werewolf. And "poor Bella" is for some inexplicable reason at the center of everything and constantly being rescued by the Vampire and Werewolf families who are always having to protect her...even dying to do so. And they won't let her participate much in her own salvation. She's supposed to just go along for the ride, and while she's unconscious or bleeding again or sleeping because she nearly died of hypothermia out of pure stupidity (as portrayed by the movie), we are subject to long monologues and dialogues and much pontificating over who loves her the most and who is best for her...etc etc etc. It goes on and on and gets to be quite tiresome.

Now..I get it. There's a wounded heroine in Bella that calls to the wounded depths in many of us, which makes sense; we as humanity are wounded. Bella is young, vulnerable, and for some reason, an object of desire. She yearns for eternal love, and this is true of all of us. We were all created to love and to be loved by God for eternity.

Yet as usual, "love" is misunderstood. Too often "love" is shown to be so one-dimensional, something for self-fulfillment, perhaps something that calls for a little sacrifice...but only a little. Nothing too painful but then again, that's ok when there's a weird hero there to save the day.

And what weird heroes start to appear in fiction and even real life when "love" is so badly warped as it is in our society. A vampire as one's true love and hero? A Werewolf to carry and comfort one? How does that work?

Objective Salvation - the Truest Hero

This morning at Mass I pondered the Crucifix and the humility of Christ, who entered the world in the same way He left it: through a cave. He came humbly, born into the filth of animal dung and laid in a container marked with the saliva of camels, sheep, and oxen. He came quietly for no one wanted Him then, He came to die even for those who did not believe and did not care or know that He ever existed, and He left the world as a criminal, accursed.

And yet, Jesus entered human history "in the fullness of time", entered into our suffering in all ways except sin, for it was our sins He came to redeem. It was our suffering He dignified and called us to unite with His own, which He suffered entirely on our behalf. Jesus comes to us silently and does not "rescue" us in Hollywood Drama, but lifts us up to the supernatural level that does not render us dead or mutated, but rather, makes us fully human and fully alive - for eternity.  

The world desires heroes with great film presence and lofty lists of triumphs against dubious enemies. The world desires heroes that transform  us but - into something non-human. The world demeans humanity while it pretends to elevate it. The world wants a hero that will save the "victims" and not require the victim to lift a finger to save herself. And the victim only wants to be saved from a life of mediocrity and elevated to the mere trophy of a hero who really isn't that heroic. And in the case of Twilight, the hero is, respectively, a blood-sucking corpse living eternal death, and an apparently-stinky guy who turns into a large canine at will. The heroes in such fiction are fallen and yes, perhaps there is a draw there, as well, for we have been conditioned to believe man cannot be perfected and cannot be saved.

In so many ways, every day I look around me, observing our culture through our entertainment, world events, daily interactions, and I fear that we, as a culture, throughout the world, have lost hope. It's not just in popular fiction, but in what our culture clearly values. Our "heroes" are actors with addictions and political agendas, and athletes making obnoxious amounts of money while running dog-fighting rings on the side and maybe running over cops just because they can afford the lawyers to get them off the hook for stuff for which a normal citizen would be penalized to the extent of the law and maybe beyond.

Our cultural heroes are all fallen images of the darkest side of human nature. They have no objective morality, nothing that is consistent, nothing that can be measured and nothing anyone would really want to follow...yet they do. The moral relativism of our society reveals a lack of hope.

This morning I gazed upon the crucifix and pondered how it rose out of the wood of the manger, for as the Church Fathers observed and theologians continue to observe, the wood of the manger and wood of the cross are one and the same. They cannot be separated, and our hero has not fallen...He is risen! And when He rose, He descended to the depths of Hell and ascended to open the gates of Heaven, having restored the dignity of human nature, having, freely paid the ransom for we who choose to be victims of sin.

We do not merit so great a Redeemer! 

Jesus does not strut or preen before us, seeking our popular adulation. He simply IS, and He comes to us, truly, substantially, His very Presence, through the Sacraments. He reaches all of our senses and waits for our response. He is a gentleman who, although created us without our permission, will not save us without our cooperation.

In the eyes of Christ, we are no longer victims, but Children of the Father, brothers and sisters, and subject to His Mother who intercedes on our behalf so that we may cooperate with God's grace more completely. That is not to say Jesus did not accomplish all, but rather, that He is more greatly glorified when we reach out to Him and CHOOSE the path of righteousness and holiness. He is glorified more perfectly when we CHOOSE to turn from sin and fight our temptations, growing, deliberately, in virtue. God is glorified when we embrace the virtues He gives us instead of giving into the temptations that seek to destroy us.

God's Grace is freely given, but it's not cheap; it requires our own participation, our own sacrifices, because becoming fully human wasn't one moment in history; it is constant, for all of us. We are pilgrims on this earth, also born into filth and we will never be fully free and fully redeemed until we move from this world and into eternal glory, should we choose to love God with all our hearts, all our souls, and all our strength.

A real hero doesn't leave a wake of victims but elevates and transforms them, making them ever more human and ever more divine, as God always intended.

Thank you, Jesus.

**  *** **

[AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This is not intended to be a review of Twilight or exploration of all themes within the books or movie. The use of Twilight characters is incidental and used to illustrate a far more important point.]

Divine Pedagogy

Well, the end of my Advent is shaping up to be...not at all what I planned or expected.

Remember the puppy from last week? Well, on Monday he went to a new foster home with children, more space - everything he could need! I've seen pictures and can say confidently that it was the right decision and even though I loved the little rug rat, he needed far more than I could offer, and my own dog needed far less than that pup was offering her!

After that experience, of course, my week was pretty calm and I finally got most of my Christmas cards out.

Then yesterday (Saturday), I received an email - could I emergency-foster a 1.7 month old Rottweiler who needed to be moved from his current foster home ASAP? I looked up his info on the rescue's web page, called the rep back and obtained a little more info on him. It seemed appropriate to take the risk.I said Yes.

We introduced my dog and the newcomer on neutral ground and walked them back to my house where they actually began to play. The young Rottweiler, however, was not quite really understanding play-time. He first didn't seem to understand my dog's play-bow in his direction, then started "copying" her moves - it was quite hilarious! My favorite, though, took place much later in the evening after he'd had his dinner. While my dog finished checking his bowl for crumbs, he began inviting her to play. He pounced and pounced and wheeled around and play-bowed - to my dog's butt! She was totally oblivious to the desperate drama taking place behind her.

Unfortunately, though, although all of this was hilarious, it again quickly got very old for my dog and she began seeking solace from me just to get away from the young dog's playful advances. I also ran into a great deal of frustration as the dog is still "intact" (ahem!) and as such, has a hobby of "marking". It doesn't matter how often I have taken him in and out throughout the evening and day. The moment we come back in he's alternating between trying to chew on me (OW!) and lifting his leg on something. I have to watch him very closely and the moment he even SEEMS to be sniffing I yell a warning to him so that he will desist.

The best, though, was this morning. We must have walked for about 45 minutes or an hour and he absolutely REFUSED to "poo". We got inside, I took his leash off thinking perhaps he'd go next time I took him out. As long as it took to turn my back, he had peed and pooped all over the floor!

I cleaned it up, took him out and threw the "refuse" in an area of the yard so that he would associate that with the business that belongs OUTSIDE.

Somewhere in the middle of scrubbing the carpet...and the chair...and the carpet there....again...I realized it would behoove me to buy stock in "Nature's Miracle." As it was, I had to go back to the pet store today to get MORE of it!

Now, it is a consolation that this dog won't be with me for long. I know someone is already interested and I advised his rep that I can't take him with me for Christmas. He's far too rambunctious and out-of-control and I'm terrified he'll both pee all over my brother's house and potentially knock my mother down. Not a good risk.

Mind you, this dog is not mean or aggressive. He's just a very large puppy who doesn't understand manners. He's also cooped up right now in a small house with no way to run freely to get his energy (and other stuff - ahem) out.

So it was this morning that I mused and prayed and mused again on my way to Mass. I swore to myself I would NEVER take another puppy again because both my dog and my house are just not good for puppies. As it is, I'll have to kennel the creature so I can wrap Christmas gifts, and I can't actually get anything done unless it's something that can be completed in 5 minutes with a constant shift of attention to see where the dog is and what he might be sniffing. Or chewing, for that matter. (He really likes my cedar chest.)

I'm having to develop ADHD as a coping mechanism!

Then it struck me: NOW I know what's going on!

At the beginning of Advent I once again offered a little prayer and asked God to help me become more patient, more caring, to grow in virtue in these areas. I shuddered as I offered the prayer because those virtues, much like asking for humility, tend to be answered with a Divine bat upside the head!

This afternoon while I wrote a "bio" for the foster dog to help him be adopted, I still felt frustrated and found I had to dig to really look for this dog's great points. I know he's a good dog and deserves a good home. I know he's more rambunctious with me because he's free to move around, has another dog to play with (when she does play), has a person to walk him and pet him and give him awesome food. He's responsive, he is protective, he is playful and won't let me out of his sight. That means he bonds quickly. He is exactly what a healthy dog of his age should be, minus a bit of training for he has clearly been neglected in that area.

In other words, what does he need from me? Patience and understanding!

OK, God, I get it. Thank you for answering my prayer. *sigh* 

My dear friends, do take care what you ask from God, because if you mean it (and He always knows if you do or not, even if it's only a little), He WILL answer. And seriously, I mean it, BE CAREFUL!

I'm just sayin'....if you ask for patience, humility, or a chance to sacrifice....God might answer your prayer just like He answered mine: by sending you a  65 lb unschooled young Rottweiler!  

How to Foster a Puppy

Well, it wasn't part of my Advent plan, but a last-minute thing came up, and as it turns out, I'm fostering a puppy.

Yup. A puppy.

Yesterday afternoon when I was asked to do this, and told it was a "six-month old shepherd mix" I pictured the first dog I adopted as an adult: a 60 lb nearly-grown puppy. Well, much to my surprise, last night when the bundle of joy was introduced to me I found about a 25 lb small puppy who could properly be named "Jaws."

So! For all you dog lovers out there, I thought I'd provide a helpful "how-to" in case you, too, are interested in fostering a puppy!

Without further ado....

HOW TO FOSTER A PUPPY

1. Pick up the puppy, get dog food, make sure you have a crate of some type, some squeaky toys, and treats.

2. Drive home.  Pull over on the way and remove the seat belt from the puppy's mouth. Carefully re-enter traffic and continue driving home. When you arrive, be sure to introduce your dog to the puppy on as "neutral ground" as you can manage.

3. If safe to do so, leave the puppy in the car while you run to get your dog, let her go potty, and then go to the car to get the puppy.

4. Open the car door while holding your dog's leash firmly. Scramble to half-catch the puppy as he tries to explode from the car, barely manage to grab the leash while gritting your teeth against the pain of rope-burn.

5. Untangle the leashes.

6. Watch the dogs as they are introduced - does the resident dog seem too intense? Hackles up? Baring teeth? Or just sniffing cautiously.

7. Remove the puppy from the astonished resident dog's head.

8. Untangle the leashes again.

9. Go for a walk. Make sure the male puppy doesn't pee on the resident dog. Ensure the puppy doesn't consume resident dog's poo. (Sorry, necessary warning!) Try not to step in said poo while untangling leashes again, and try not to fall in said poo when leashes are tangled around one's legs.

10. Return home. As resident dog is "in charge", make sure to support the alpha by removing her leash first no matter how annoying the puppy is in inhibiting you from doing this. Once resident dog is free and no longer entangled in either leash, drop the puppy's leash and let it drag for awhile just in case you need to snatch him back outside or away from something. Give him freedom to sniff around to get to know his new surroundings. Just watch him like a hawk.

11. Take the shoe away from the puppy. Hand him his squeaky toy.

12. Introduce the puppy (gently!) to the kennel. Go outside to bring the car in and get the rest of the puppy's toys from the car.

13. Let the puppy out of the kennel. Let the dogs "romp" a bit if it seems to be going well.

14. Take the piece of paper away from the puppy and replace it with a chew toy.

15. Remove the puppy from the couch.

16. Go into the kitchen to get the dog food ready.

17. Return to the livingroom at the sound of a very loud YIPE! followed by the resident dog slinking into the kitchen with her ears back. Ask who bit whom?

18. Take the blanket throw from the couch away from the puppy. Replace it with one of his chew toys. Watch him squeak away happily at it. Praise him enthusiastically.

19. Go back into the kitchen. Kick the dogs out of the kitchen. Realize the resident dog is trying desperately to get away from the puppy. Allow the resident dog into the kitchen and put the baby gate up. Watch the puppy sitting outside the gate wagging his tail hopefully and looking up at you with big puppy eyes.

20. Feed the dogs their dinner, return to the livingroom with a movie to watch. Sit on the couch with the resident dog who is still trying to get away from the puppy. Watch the puppy invite the resident dog to play. Watch the resident dog bare her teeth in warning because she does not want to play. Watch the puppy persist. When ignored, watch the puppy first bite the resident dog's tail and then her paws. Watch that not be a very popular course of action from the perspective of the resident dog.

21. Remove the puppy from the resident dog's presence and place yourself in between them so as to run interference.

22. Rewind the movie several times as you have not been able to actually watch this scene yet.

23. Realize sitting on the couch is not helpful so sit on the floor on the dog bed against the couch with a squeaky toy and try to contain the puppy. Rewind the movie again.

24. Watch the puppy as he roams and seems to be "sniffing" for a spot. Take the puppy out. Remove the leash from his mouth. Realize he doesn't want to go "out". Return inside.

25. Rewind the movie again. Sit back down with a toy and the puppy. Try to give the resident dog a lot of praise and attention too.

26. Watch the puppy sniff around on a rug and squat. Yell "NO!" and grab the puppy's leash. Throw a paper towel over the soiled spot and take the puppy out, praise him when he finishes going potty outside. Bring him back in. Remove the leash from his mouth. Try not to play tug-of-war in doing so.

27. Go get "Nature's Miracle", soak up as much of the mess out of the berber carpet as you can, spray the spot with the cleaner, soak it up, repeat. Take a shoe away from the puppy. Return to cleaning the rug. Put the cleaning implements away. Take the soiled paper towel away from the puppy and deposit it in the garbage. (The paper towels, not the puppy!)

28. Return to the movie. Rewind it again. Play "fetch" several times with the puppy.

29. Accidentally get into a "tug-of-war" game with the puppy. Make sure you win!

30. YIPE loudly when puppy accidentally bites you while you are winning the tug-of-war game you didn't intend to play.

31. Sit down at the computer to write about "how to foster a puppy".

32. Find it endearing that he is sitting on your feet while chewing on a proper toy. Hear a crunch and remove the teddy bear's eye from the puppy's mouth. Return to typing.

33. Realize the puppy is investigating computer wires. Push the puppy away and block the area with another object. Give the puppy a toy. Return to typing.

34. Hear another crunch. Remove the other teddy-bear's eye from the puppy's mouth.

35. Pet the puppy because he is really really cute! Remove your shirt sleeve from the puppy's mouth. Tell the puppy to get a toy. Remove your pant leg hem from the puppy's mouth. Tell him again to get a toy.

36. Realize you ARE what the puppy considers to be a "toy". Stand up and get a proper chew toy. As the puppy comes at you with a a wide open mouth ready to bite you again, stuff the toy in his mouth and watch him squeak away happily. Go sit down and rewind the movie.

37. Realize it is late. Take the puppy  and resident dog outside to go potty, put the puppy in his kennel and go to bed.

38. Get up in the morning, immediately get on the cold-weather gear and get the resident dog's leash on. Approach the kennel, leash in hand. Catch the puppy as he explodes out. Entirely miss him. Chase him off the couch. Take the couch pillow away. Try to catch him to put the leash on. Intervene when puppy pounces on resident dog who does NOT like being pounced upon. Try to catch the puppy. Take the couch pillow away again. Put it out of reach. Finally get the leash on. Untangle the leashes. Open the inner door. Untangle the leashes again. Praise resident dog for being so patient and quiet. Go outside with the dogs. Try not to slip on the ice when being pulled in several directions at once. Untangle the leashes again...

40. Welcome to life with a puppy!  (Don't worry, they grow out of it.....!)  ;-)

{ADDENDUM}

41. Notice how resident dog is getting snippier and snippier alternated with trying desperately to get away from puppy in active mode. Realize how this is not a good thing for either dog.

42. Contact dog's adoption representative to update and request he be moved to a more appropriate home.

43. Pray and wait for some hapless foster to take said adoption rep up on the offer to bring home the cutest puppy EVER!

44. Continuing working on maintaining peace in current home while scrambling to keep the puppy busy....

Communion

We live in crazy times. Everywhere, faithful Catholics lament the long Communion lines and short Confession lines - this is true everywhere. We are either a Church filled with Saints or a Church filled with sinners pretending to be Saints. I am one of the latter on the best of days.

Every day, every Sunday, every Holy Day - whenever we as Catholics attend Mass and have an opportunity to receive Holy Communion, we should be aware of our spiritual condition and act accordingly. Yet some people wonder if they can or should attend Mass at all if they are aware of mortal sin. They have been quite literally taught that receiving Holy Communion is the highest form of "participation" and therefore they MUST do this.

Perhaps that wasn't what was truly being taught, but that is what they heard and the impression they continue to hold. Why attend Mass if one cannot go forward for Holy Communion? Few people remain in the pew in an average Catholic Church (I hear the Latino parishes tell a different story - most DON'T receive).

Our society in general is one of entitlement; if I attend this I must receive that. 

It is OWED to me. I have a RIGHT to it. Very quickly that owing and "right" become a "requirement" or the entire event is meaningless. We are a society of "I must receive something or it's not worth my time."

The problem is this: Grace is conferred in ways that are hidden. One can receive Holy Communion in a state of grace but not benefit at all if  one is not really open to the Grace available. Grace is received according to the disposition of the recipient. Not my rules; those are God's own observations and the reality of the spiritual life. If we aren't open, we may receive Our Lord, but He will dissipate with no effect if we refuse to receive what He has to offer.

If we receive Holy Communion in a state of mortal sin, we kill ourselves, spiritually. We become dead to the effects of Grace because we have committed the sin of Sacrilege. 

Today I attended Mass, the Feast of All Saints, and admit it was a temptation to not attend even though it is a Holy Day of Obligation. I "felt" unworthy. I "wondered" deep within if I should enter the presence of the Almighty if I could not receive Him. Scandalized by my own interior wanderings, the thought barely crossed my mind and I banished it back to Hell from whence it had come. I was not able to make it to Confession and knew I should not receive Our Lord.  I also knew that it was even MORE important that I attend Mass, where I could make a Spiritual Communion while remaining in my pew, praying heartily for my own conversion to a life of holiness, to overcome my sin by leaning even more heavily upon God.

There have been several occasions in which I have had had to abstain from Holy Communion, whether because of mortal sin or simply my disposition at that moment. Always, I meditate on what it is like to be out of communion with the Church, to be separated from God. It is just as important to recognize what we may suffer eternally as it is to reflect upon and hope for eternal beatitude - both contain deep spiritual messages we need to ponder intensely.

Always, though, it seems that God reaches out to me, no matter what my state. It seems that whenever I abstain from Holy Communion, there is a friend in the pew in front or behind me, or even in my same pew. At some point, God shines through them, reminding me that although perhaps my sin has cut me off from Holy Communion, I am not abandoned. A friend passes by and where they would normally do so without a word or signal, on those days I abstain, even if they don't know that I am doing so, they reach out to squeeze my hand.

This evening was no exception. Tonight, I learned during the Sign of Peace that a few friends were seated behind me and one actually asked me quickly, "How have you been?" as we exchanged the Sign. Another couple friends, as they skirted past me to go forward, tapped me on the shoulder; a sign of encouragement.

Tonight, instead of a sense of dejection, of separation, I made my Spiritual Communion with a sense of profound joy. I have been claimed by Christ, and even though I separated myself through sin, I have truly repented of that sin and attended Mass to worship God with my Catholic family. As a Catholic, I am not exiled because I am weak. I am simply aware of my own impurity at the Wedding Feast of Our Lord.

As I've pondered before and did so again tonight, simply remaining in the pew during Holy Communion is a sign, too - of Faith. Of Hope. Of Love. 

It sends a signal to others that I truly BELIEVE that this is the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ. Even we who cannot receive due to sin, disposition, irregular canonical issues, or even being non-Catholic, reveal Truth. Today, with my body and soul I still gave Glory to God by refusing to partake, for I know that He is Truly Present and my reception would have profaned what is Most Holy.

There are times where I have stepped over others while going forward to receive and I always stop myself from wondering; are they not Catholic? Have they not been to Confession? Are they angry with me for tripping over their children while I tried to get to "my" pew?

The answers to the questions I suppress in my mind are not important. The strongest message I receive from those in the pew during Communion is this:  they remain there because Jesus Christ is Truly and Substantially Present in the Holy Eucharist. Their place reveals more than the lines going forward. I see more reverence in those who abstain than in those who receive.

I do not mean to say that my own abstinence today is something to be glorified; it's not. I am a sinner and I COULD NOT receive, and for that, I am ashamed. I am sorry, Jesus, for my sin. I am sorry that I lacked the proper disposition to receive You.

That said, it is only that a lesson came home to me today; about the volumes spoken in silence and mystery, about the witness of Faith given by the weakest members of the Church on any given day, who testify not by going forward, but by taking the last place.

It is they who give me the courage and instill in me the virtue to honor Christ more perfectly, especially when I have sinned.

May the entire Communion of Saints pray for us all so that we may always honor Christ and grow to be more like Him every day of our lives. 

Foreclosure Fiasco

It ain't over 'till the fat lady sings and I ain't singin' yet.

Truly, I don't even know where to start and I have no intention of recapping (here, anyway), every conversation I've had in the last couple weeks with my mortgage company. Suffice to say I am outraged. Never in my life have I ever dealt with such unethical business practices. If I had, I would have switched companies immediately. But herein lies much of the problem; we consumers do not have that ability when it comes to mortgages.

Oh, sure I could refinance under a different lender. Right. With $85,000 in negative equity in a house now worth even less than the negative equity? Right. Sure. That'll happen.

Let me hit a few high points for you:

1. First the mortgage company wouldn't work with me because I called them BEFORE I had missed a payment. I called IN ADVANCE knowing that I was hitting financial trouble and asked for a solution in good faith.

2. They gave me only one option: a 3 month forbearance. I wanted to make payments or partial payments. They told me no, then when I pressed the issue, I got a reluctant "OK but you have to call this number and do it over the phone."  Me: "But won't there be an additional fee for that?"  "No, not while you're in a forbearance."  OK, fine, I made some partial payments, again, in good faith, and EVERY TIME I CALLED I had to reassert why I was making a payment, what I had been told and that there shouldn't be a fee. It was a battle EVERY TIME.

3. At no point was I ever informed that my payments, which were being withdrawn from my bank account, were not being applied to my mortgage.

4. At the end of my forbearance period I received a letter stating that my monthly payment had not changed and then asserted I was nearly $3k in arrears. I was not told not to make my October payment with the payment coupon they sent to my house with the admonition to "remit $920 to this address."  I did what a reasonable person would do and made my regular payment. No, wait..I actually made a bit more than my regular monthly payment. Again in good faith.

5. I spoke with the company to advise of the payment being sent and they told me they would apply it to what was in arrears and any future payments would be taken in order. That's when I got the foreclosure notice.  And the letter said I had until November 5, but on the phone, they told me November 4.

6. My family member sent me a check to help and I called the bank to make that payment. I had to go through the entire re-hashment of the entire mess. I called informing them immediately that I would like to make a payment to bring my account current and gave them the amount. They tried to tell me I only paid $750.  Um...WHAT?!

7. Then they informed me about the "holding account" and asked why I hadn't made my October payment. WHAT!?

8. Then they informed me that they'd received my payment and sent it back and that I would be responsible for October late fees even though the payment had been received on time. WHAT!?  They said it was my fault. WHAT!?

9. Then they forced me to pay $17.00 in fees to pay the amount to make my account current. I could not make my October payment at the same time because the money had already been taken from my account.  (yes, really)

10. Today I called to make my October payment and rehashed the same dang thing AGAIN. Several times, in fact. Because my account is current but October's is merely "late", I tried to pay online, then through the "SpeedPay" option which has a fee but a lesser fee. No. I had to call the collections department and my only option was to pay them via phone with another $17.00 fee.

11. And that's when I was informed of the "Appraisal Charge".  Um...what appraisal might this be? I was informed that was done in August without my knowledge but I was responsible for the cost. No, I said, that is part of the company's overhead, cost of doing business. Why is this being passed on to the customer? No choice..I have to pay it anyway or my account would not be brought to bear.  Oh, and what does this appraisal consist in? She tried not to answer my question but I forced the issue in no uncertain terms. They talk to neighbors and look at my house to see if I'm living there. How can they tell if they don't talk to me? What neighbors did they talk to. Really? How do they know anything by doing an "appraisal" like that?

12. So I pay the extortioner just so I can stay in my home and finally get them to concede to not charge me the "late fee" for October.

13. We finish the call with me paid up fully on my home, and in fact, beyond fully to date since they've now deprived me of a few utility bill payments I'll have to delay to December now. So much for Christmas gifts, family.   And then she says to me, "Why were you behind on your October payment?"

14. That was it. I went off, and right through the roof and I let that woman hear ever bit of my very directed rage (without profanity, mind you. I'm quite proud of myself for that particular restraint.)  I informed her that I had, in fact, as I told her, made my payment which they SENT BACK. I informed her that her company needs to communicate better, that they need to provide better payment options and in fact, if they are limiting options, need to inform the customer of the same. I informed her that had I not been sent that coupon that a reasonable person would believe indicated regular payments should resume on paper, I would not have made a payment that would be rejected. I informed her that it is THEIR FAULT ENTIRELY that I was behind on my October payment and in general, their entire process is  incomprehensible and clearly deceptive.

And then she told me the company would take "my feedback" into account.

15. I hung up and immediately began making inquiries as to which department in the State of MN I needed to contact in order to lodge a formal complaint against this mortgage company for deceptive, manipulative, and predatory business practices. A friend put a call into someone he knows at the Attorney General's Office to see if it's there, or if there is another department to contact. Or even multiple.

Here's the thing, y'all. I've worked in the business world. Many people hate auto insurance, and yeah, I get it and I've had bad experiences there, too, both as a customer and as a rep. But one thing I knew on the job: I was there to serve the customer and often had to bend over backward to help them out of some jam, even if the jam was their fault. Our different departments communicated easily and if I couldn't see some information, I could obtain it with a quick phone call and help the customer that way. Or if need be, directly transfer the customer to the person who could help them.

The mortgage company? No. Not interested in helping. In fact, clearly drooling over the idea of flipping my home in a neighborhood that already stands quite empty. Folks, if I move out, NO ONE is moving into this place. It'll remain just as empty as the others surrounding me.  They did everything they could to make it impossible to pay my loan, and in the end, I actually had to pay them in order get them to accept my payment to them!

This is not ethical! And it wouldn't be happening if consumers had more rights and could hold these companies accountable as we do other businesses.  Don't like your auto insurance - switch companies. Don't like your bank where your checking account is held, cancel the account and open one in a different bank.

Don't like your mortgage company - oh, well, sucks to be you. Even if you can refinance under a different company, there is NOTHING to prevent them from selling your loan right back into the black hole you left. As a consumer, you have NO rights which is why these companies don't help their customers: they get paid the same whether the customer stays in their home or lands on the street. There is no competition and every single customer is over a barrel. How is this NOT racketeering?

Now, I won't be quitting my job and becoming a hippie in order to hang out downtown any time soon. I'll continue going to work and trying to pay my bills, as I always have. I'm glad to have a roof over my head. But I will stand up and be counted to any department that will hear and register this complaint, and I will sign my name to it and hope to God every other person out there having to deal with this crap does the same thing.

For now, I have a home. Thank God for my family scraping the bottom of their own barrels to help me; one of them actually skipped a few bills this month on my account. I didn't know that until the check was cashed and signed over. I didn't know.

This is ridiculous. I just have no more words.

/rant

PS: God bless my family!

We Are All Called to Death

Recently I learned that the father of a dear friend had finally passed from this world into eternity after a long battle with cancer.

It wasn't unexpected and when I was asked if I could take time off work to attend the Wake, I asked for the date and time of the funeral, immediately pledging I'd attend both. I did this without reserve, even though mentally I was already rearranging my work schedule. What would I have to give up? What would I have to change?  I had a catalog in my head with regard to my personal life: what would I have to give up? What arrangements had to be made before I could go?

Let me be honest:

I didn't want to go at all. I didn't want to make those arrangements, I didn't want to take vacation days from work especially for something I didn't want to do, and really...I just didn't want to go.

My friends, I don't enjoy funerals. They are awful, they are terrible, they are sad, and I say this because every funeral I attend reminds me of the night I saw my Dad for the last time...in the casket. I remember the weirdness of the Protestant-with-secret-Masonic-ritual-afterburner rites, the cheapness of it as he had no money nor did we, so couldn't even afford a funeral in a Lutheran chapel. With every funeral I attend, I remember the grief, of the discomfort of the folding chairs, my mother staring at me constantly with her cat's eyes ready-to-pounce expression as I cried very natural grief. Then we were called forward from some odd reason to come to the casket for one last time to stand there and publicly grieve and then turn and FACE the audience while the Pastor or random person presiding over this show (whoever he was...I still have no idea) said some words and then we were finally allowed to go back to our seats so that we could stop being a public freak show of sad people.

But that was my weird experience. Had my Dad been Catholic, it probably wouldn't have been so bad. Part of what I experienced in his death was the absolute trauma of the alien-ness of the service, devoid of anything I'd ever understood a funeral to be, and the fact that after the funeral he was cremated but not buried until spring. I believe his remains were brought to a mausoleum but I have no idea if he was just tossed unceremoniously into the ground come spring or if someone was there to prayerfully lay him to rest. I have no idea.

Every funeral since then has reminded me of that; we tend to be marked by the funerals of those we love the most. 

So you see, even though I have a Theology degree and understand the theology of redemptive suffering, and I believe in the Resurrection and look forward to it myself, that doesn't make funerals any easier.

It took me aback, therefore, when my brother and I were asked by the grieving family to bring up the Gifts of bread and wine. I wanted to refuse, but remembered as a child when our family was asked to do this at a Sunday Mass. Mom was very excited and said to us with shining eyes, "This is a great honor!"

I didn't understand that, but we did what we were told (or invited, rather), and returned to our pew.  I've never forgotten those words, though, or the action, even though the import was totally beyond me at the time:: to bring up the gifts at Mass is a GREAT HONOR.

So it was that when my brother had asked me if we could/should do so at today's funeral Mass, I said "Yes."

No hesitation.  Not outwardly.

Interiorly, I didn't want to go to the funeral. 

My dear friend had confessed that she wasn't at all sure what condition she or her  brothers would be in during the funeral, and the moment I heard that, I knew she was asking for very real help. I couldn't forget standing before people at my Dad's funeral....I knew that I could do this for her, and in her and her brother's names. And, in the theology of the Liturgy, I knew I could bring the gifts forward in the name of all, the symbol of the offering of all.  I could to at least that out of love for my friend and her family, and her dear, dear father.

Still, something struck me during the Mass, and I pray I never forget it. 

In the last few days, New Advent has run many articles about funerals and death and dying. I've clicked on every one. Even though I did not know the deceased very well (for my friend is the fiance' of my brother, so my brother is their considered family member, not me), the words in every article seemed to speak to our situation.

I was convicted when I read one article citing funerals as an "inconvenience" and in the end, the author was blown away by all the people "inconvenienced" to come...and how much that meant to her when she saw those mourners paying respects to her own loved one.

Today, during the funeral Mass, I pondered both my experience as well as those I've attended as a mourner, as a friend, and I realized that indeed, one of the reasons I dislike funerals is because of their utter inconvenience.

They always happen mid-week, at odd hours, and one must take either a half or full day from work, if not more. One must often travel out of town, and make arrangements that go beyond those required for daily tasks.

I didn't want to go to the funeral today, or the wake last night, but I went, and it hadn't been in my mind to refuse; I went because I love my friend and her family, even though I hadn't seen her father for years. That didn't matter: I went because she is my friend and I know what it's like to lose my father. She's a new member of a horrible club and needed the support of fellow club members.

During the Mass, I pondered this reality. I was ashamed, to the depths of my soul, for not wanting to be there. I was ashamed, for I knew how important it was, for it means a great deal to a grieving family that others love their loved ones...and them. One of the best ways to show love it just to BE there. Presence says far more than words will ever express. Presence is eternal. Ink on paper, words on the wind...those are easily lost.

It was Divine Providence that my brother and I had been asked to bring the gifts, for I could not help but ponder the significance of this liturgical action. Usually during the Offertory, I bow my head and pray, trying to offer myself, my intentions, prayers for those I love...everything...in union with the Sacrifice of Christ. Today I was called upon to do something more physical and as my brother is not a practicing Catholic I had to help him also, to know where to go, when, and what to bring up. As it was I still flubbed it a little (I started to offer what I had before what my brother had as I'd forgotten to think about the order of reception! But the priest was gracious and is used to distracted mourners.) I felt bad...I could have better directed my brother, I could have been more aware...I could have reminded him to walk with me and not behind, etc.

Today, I was reminded that I don't have all the answers, and even when I am in "my element", I am still lost, I am still confused, and I am still but a sheep in need of a shepherd. I am a soul in need of a savior. I'm glad my brother got to offer his first, for it was so proper on so many levels.

Often God's lessons in humility are gentle, and hidden, but always so loving that we cannot miss the point.

Our Lord reminded me today that we are all called to death. 

While indeed, yes, we do all face death, it is our little deaths in life that matter the most. We are all called to walk where we do not want to walk, to bow our heads in deference when we want to lead, to be silent when we want to speak, to suffer confusion when we most do not want to be confused.  We are all called to mourn not when we would prefer, but when God calls our loved ones home. We are called then also to the service of those who mourn the greatest, and offer ourselves to them in their simplest needs. In practical ways, in friendship, in service, in representation, and in presence.

We are all called to that. We are all called to lay down our lives upon the altar and live there in the shadow of the Cross, knowing that it is only there that we can understand the resurrection and eternal glory of Christ.

Simply to attend to a death, we must die to ourselves. We must put our own lives aside to give comfort to the lives of others, and pray for the eternal life for the one who has been called into eternity.

Yes...this is our call. In life we are indeed in death, for we cannot live eternal life unless we are willing to die, over and over again, every day and every minute, all for the sake of Christ our Lord.

Please pray with me for the father of my friend:

Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord, may your countenance shine upon him, and may he and all the Holy Souls in Purgatory rest in peace. Amen. 

A Moment of Eternity

Today I had to run some errands that took me into a suburb in which I worked for five years. As I passed the familiar exits and mused on new construction since I had last driven that route, one particular sign gave me pause.

I knew where it led and suddenly, I knew that I had to go there before I continued on. There was time and, well...I couldn't say "no" to this particular clarion call.

When I worked in that city, I had a very stressful, demanding job, and one awful summer I had to do the work of three people as the others on my team had either been promoted or had left the company. Instead of taking lunch, I had begun going to Adoration.

Starving for Home

The first chapel I found near my work was still quite a drive and it was so comfortable and I was so emotionally exhausted that when I arrived there I'd almost immediately fall asleep, only to have to rush back, addled, to work. "Something" goaded me to look further, and indeed, I'd found a chapel closer to work. Each day, perhaps nearly every day that terrible summer, I looked forward to my break so that I could steal away to the chapel.

I didn't each lunch at all. I knew what I needed:  My Lord.

I remember the first time I arrived and crept up the stairs to the chapel, careful not to disturb any of those who were there praying. I didn't like the fact that I had to enter the chapel from the front, but just the same, I was grateful to be able to go and sank down in a pew like an exhausted swimmer collapsing upon the sand.

The chapel was like one from an old convent (which may be what that building once was); the altar is in the front surrounded by stained glass windows set into an arched outer wall. the pews line up precisely with heavy wooden kneelers and the scent of the old building is so permeated with ancient incense and...well...that indescribably sweet but nostalgic pungence one often finds in old buildings.

I was always comforted from the moment I entered the chapel and it became an oasis of peace that kept me sane in a very difficult time of my life.

Today, although I was happy to be able leave the office to run my work errands on a nice fall afternoon, and I was thrilled with what I was going to pick up, I knew that I had to take this detour and visit Jesus as a perfect balm for my harried soul.

I could not disobey the invitation that came to me today on the freeway and it was like stepping back in time as I parked my car and once again approached the chapel door, climbed the steps, and entered into the presence of the King.

As I knelt before Our Lord, deeply taking in the familiar aromas, I was taken back in time, thanking Jesus over and over again for this refuge He so freely offers us. Thanking Him for allowing me to come into His Presence.

Although I've fallen away some from praying the Liturgy of the Hours, it continues to go with me everywhere I go and today I was not surprised to open it and find us amidst the story of Esther. Her prayer is never far from my lips:  "Help me Lord, for I am all alone and I have no one but Thee."

 The Psalms spoke to me so deeply today that I nearly wept in gratitude as well as sorrow.

I could not help but marvel at how far God has taken me with Him in these last several years. Even as I prayed the Psalms, the memories of the place played in the background of my intellect.  I recalled that the last time I'd been there in that particular chapel, I barely knew my faith and was eagerly absorbing all I could. There were days I would go there and would just weep from stress and anxiety because of my job. There were days I would arrive and, in spite of the hardness of the pews, fall asleep out of pure exhaustion, unable to speak or absorb. All I could do was BE. And there, in that chapel, Our Lord allowed me to simply....be.  I could do that in His company, where He, simply...IS.

My mother was always a very devoted Catholic and our homes always housed the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Immaculate Heart of Mary.  Although I was familiar with and loved that image of Christ and His mother, it was there, in that particular chapel, that I re-discovered the devotion, learned about it, and made it my own. I absorbed into my very being the spirituality of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and began learning how to entrust myself and my prayers to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

I sat there today, realizing that God has given me SO MUCH, and has and is taking me along with Him on a long walk to Calvary. It becomes so apparent, for the last time I was there, I was asking to know Him more deeply, praying about a religious Vocation, knowing that what I was doing was not what He intended to be my life's work.

I returned today, this time with a Masters in Theological Studies, with the Liturgy of the Hours, and with an entirely different type of burden. 

But still...it was all the same. Jesus is the same, everywhere, every day, in every age, from today to tomorrow, from the past we can't fathom and into a future we'll not see with earthly eyes. HE IS, quite simply. He IS. Eternally.

There I knelt, and although I did not really pray in words today, I prayed wordlessly, staring at Jesus as He looked back at me. And in that passive activity, time stopped and there was nothing but eternity in the gaze of Christ.

Earthly life continues and I had to break that incredible gaze, so I  invited Jesus to join me as I ran my errands. I knelt and left the silent endlessness of the blessed chapel and continued in silence to the next task.

Pondering my brief visit to the chapel, I realized that it was exactly what I needed. God knows us all so well and although we can encounter Him anywhere, at any Catholic parish, whether hidden in the tabernacle or exposed in the monstrance, He continues to use ALL of our senses when we seem to have lost our way in the darkness of this world. Jesus brought me into that suburb today not simply to complete an errand, but to visit HIM in a place special in my own memory of Him.

You see, I realized  that it was in that very chapel that I fell in love with Jesus. 

I needed to go there today. I needed it because I needed the sensory reminders of my passion for Him and His life-giving Passion for me. I NEEDED that.

Today, in that all-too-brief interlude, God did not speak to me of the Cross or of deep theological explanations. He spoke to me of eternity with Him. There, in that place where I first discovered the meaning of real, sacrificial love, He gave me a moment of loving eternity. And that description contains no paradox.

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, be my salvation!+

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, ThyKingdom come!+

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on me!+

Immaculate Heart of Mary...Pray for me! 

Thanks Be To God!

Thank you, my friends, for your prayers!

Today I received a call from a family member - a couple are pitching together to help me in this crisis, at least with regard to the house.

The foreclosure is going away!

I don't yet know how I'm going to keep from going into default on my student loan but on that front, there is a little more hope and I can probably "buy" a little more time. Please keep the prayers coming!

Many have suggested I place a Paypal button on my blog, and I may yet need to do that, but given the phone call today, I am thankful to be able to hold off. Thank you for your offered generosity - I am very touched by so many so willing to help. Whereas I may still need that kind of help one day, for now the hand of the bank is going to be stayed at least with regard to the most critical issue - the roof over my head.

This afternoon in the Adoration Chapel I prayed for all of you who have been praying for me and I hope you are all deeply blessed by God. I know many of you are undergoing other kinds of trials right now, so be assured of my prayers on your behalf.

Thank you, Jesus!

I Knew it Was Coming

My friends, I need to request your prayers.

Yesterday evening as I settled in to watch Kitchen Nightmares, a nightmare of a whole different sort came to my door in the form of a ringing bell and certified letter. I didn't even need to look at the address; I knew what it was as I signed for it.

It was my foreclosure notice. I have until November 5 to come up with $1800.00 in addition to my regular monthly payment of about $930.00.  I will also owe $200 on one of my student loans that was under a forbearance.

Right now I'm praying for a miracle. It's possible that I own something that can be sold, but probably not likely to happen in the time period I've been given.

I know that I can live in my house for a year under foreclosure, but my hope is that I can stop the proceedings by somehow coming up with the cash to pay the amount I'm behind. It seems like so little, doesn't it? Yet to me, it's a greater fortune than I've ever seen.

For those unfamiliar with my story, the reason I am behind is not for willfully skipping payments, but the fact that over the summer I was down to 25 hours per week and no other income. During that time my lender granted me a forbearance and I paid about half of my regular mortgage in that time period.

I am trying to work with the bank but they offer few options and the fact remains: I must pay this debt and I intend to pay it.

Please pray for me.

The Mystery of the Open Door

For the last several days, it seems like every time I've come home from work, I've had a door open that wasn't supposed to be open. Or perhaps a makeshift "baby gate" that has been tipped over by a very guilty-looking German Shepherd.

I'm used to her antics in trying to access some baby-gated areas and usually, no harm done so it's not a huge deal (as long as it's not the kitchen!).  Open doors, though, are a different matter entirely!

I had actually been attributing the recent open rooms to my own failure to properly close the doors, and again, neither the bedroom or bathroom had any damage or obvious disturbance, so I didn't worry. After all, my dog isn't a puppy anymore although she DOES on occasion get into things and make a mess simply because (GSD owners say it with me!) ...she's a GERMAN SHEPHERD!

Until last night, anyway, I'd been attributing open doors to my own failure to close them, and this is the cue that I need to give you a little back story.....

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, little new homeowner Adoro adopted a German Shepherd, age 1.5 years, from the local Humane Society. The paperwork and the staffer there told Adoro that her new pet was very very smart and had a long history of an uncanny ability to open doors she was not supposed to open.


Adoro learned this very quickly the first time she tried to kennel her dear GSD, only to come home 45 minutes later to find the kennel door ajar and the dog standing outside of it with a happy waggy tail and a big happy doggie grin. 


The next time Adoro left, she reinforced the kennel with flex ties at all points, even the door, thinking that as she would be gone for only about a half hour, this would be a good test of the new "security" system. 


When Adoro came home, the kennel was completely intact! Yay! The door was still closed and tightly tied shut!


Unfortunately, the German Shepherd was AGAIN outside of the kennel, staring at her, doggie-grinning and happy-wagging. 


Hmmm.....


Well, Adoro gave up on the kennel, at that point realizing that to continue might actually cause her dog to be strangled if she was trapped in an escape attempt and Adoro did not arrive home in time to stop the tragedy. So it was that she invested in a baby gate for the kitchen to prevent counter surfing (for some reason the dog did not desire to jump over the gate), and pseudo-gate the steps at the bottom to prevent the dog from going upstairs. 


Over the years this worked, until the German Shepherd did begin leaping the stair gate. In place of that, Adoro closed upstairs doors, especially after an incident in which her dog had injured herself during the day and cost Adoro hundreds in veterinary bills to prevent her dog from bleeding to death when the clotting factors were thrown off by the injury. 


That system worked very very well  unless Adoro forgot to close the door or simply didn't latch it properly. 

Until....now...

And that's where the story continues to the nearly present day.

Keep in mind that the doorknobs in my house are the round sort that tend to need to be GRIPPED in order to turn and unlatch.

Well, I had begun to wonder about the open doors, wondering if in fact, there was a "mechanical" problem with the mechanism - was it not latching properly even though I had pulled and heard the "click"?

Then last night, I came  home to find that my bedroom door was open and a child-size scapular I bought at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City in 1994 was lying on the ground, the string in shreds and the miraculous medal lying neatly among the mess.

When I stopped to stare at it in confusion, my German Shepherd circled my feet, ears back, tail tucked with the tip wagging as she "apologized".

I picked up the pieces. None were wet so it happened hours ago. The string appeared to have broken through stress. There was no damage to the door or the knob. The dog was playing "guilty" all over the place, especially when I had the evidence in my hand.

Thankfully, only the string was damaged - the two main pieces seemed fine and perhaps can be used again.

You see, this scapular is one that maybe I had worn (I don't remember) but as it is so beautiful and comes from such a place, I put it on my doorknob as an act of devotion - both to preserve it and to remind myself of Our Lady's protection, her intercession, and of course, what it means to be devoted to Christ.

I guess my dog isn't really into sacramentals even though I've done my best to raise her as a Catholic and she seems to enjoy it when I pray the Liturgy of the Hours with her.

But still.- I couldn't figure out what the broken scapular had to do with the open door! And of course, WHY the scapular was broken!

Yesterday a storm had passed through, and as the years have gone on, I've noticed that my dog reacts more and strongly seeks my company when the thunder cracks. I wondered if perhaps she'd nudged the doorknob in hopes of finding me, or maybe to get as close to me (via my scent in my room) as possible during the storm, and the door just happened to be forced open at her insistence, the knob turned just enough.

Today changed that theory, but first a little more to the story: 

You see, a couple years ago my dog wandered into the upstairs bathroom one evening and apparently closed the door on herself. She didn't make a peep, but because she was often in my room staring out the window doing her GSD-thing, it wasn't uncommon for her not to be with me in the main part of the house.

Well, having not seen her for a few hours and wanting to feed her, I called and she did not come. I knew she was not outside (no fenced yard so she was never outside alone). I went upstairs, saw the door to my room closed and recalled doing that. But I knew she wasn't in my room because I'd ushered her out before closing the door. But why was the bathroom door closed?

I opened it and she exited somewhat sheepishly as I greeted her. I remember being confused; the doggie Houdini-extraordinaire hadn't made a peep up there and hadn't torn the door apart in an attempt to get out!

I thought that perhaps she'd forgotten about her door-opening skill after nudging the door closed during routine sniffing and decided to just wait it out.

Well...no. I was wrong. 

She just hadn't had the proper motivation at the time as she was quite content that evening, apparently, to lay down on the rug and take a nap until I'd opened the door.

Today when I came home, once again I found the bedroom door standing ajar and the dog acting guilty in her rush to pass me in hopes I wouldn't notice that, in fact, I didn't actually have to open the door myself.

I stopped, horrified, staring from the floor to the doorknob. Was my only other scapular from that shrine destroyed, too?

No, no...the ground was bare. I looked at the knob. No, there it hung, although it was a bit more tightly wound. I reached out to grasp the "tag" with the embroidered picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe, feeling the gold threads under my fingers. I tugged gently...and saw the knob turn. The string was just taught enough to rub and pull the knob to the side, releasing the latch!

As the door opened, I rose my eyes to my dog, perched at the window, staring outward, ears forward and twitching according to the sounds reverberating against those huge radars. She stood at the window I always left slightly open in fair weather to let the fresh air waft in, and there she could percept, as well, all the sounds of the neighborhood including the dog the neighbors always allow to roam off leash all day long....

Mystery Solved!

CASE CLOSED!

RESOLUTION:

* close window even while gone
* remove scapular from door and leave nothing to act as "doggie pull-chain"
* more interesting toys if actually affordable?  (donations accepted!)
* get a different breed  NEVER! GET BEHIND ME SATAN!  German Shepherds are as close as a canine can get to being human - must continue to nurture in accordance with St. Thomas Aquinas's hierarchy of Creation as this is clearly an animal present with Adam in the Garden! Must learn to be more like the dog whose thought process is very logical!

OK then!

Blog Quotes of the Day

It's been awhile since I posted some of these, so back by...uh...popular demand of the past, I bring you some silliness for today:

If bloggers stopped blogging about what happened to them, then there would be a lot of empty web pages.

~ inspired by Elaine Liner

The man who blogs about himself and his own time is the only man who blogs about all people and all time.

~ inspired by George Bernard Shaw

The role of a blogger is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.

~ inspired by Anais Nin

Either blog something worth blogging or do something worth blogging.

~ inspired by Ben Franklin

And for the cherry of truth atop a cupcake of silliness:

The skill of blogging is to create a context in which anonymous commenters can flame without fear of reprisal.

~ loosely inspired by Edwin Schlossberg

The Short End of the Stick?

A few days ago while flipping stations on my car radio, I came across a protestant preacher, and stopped to listen for awhile because what he was saying sounded interesting. He was talking about the story of Joseph in the book of Genesis, and how poor Joseph was "always getting the short end of the stick."  Not having heard this particular angle taken before, I listened, giving consideration to his thought process. He explained that Joseph always had things going wrong and about telling his dream to his brothers (about the sheaves bowing to his sheaf), well, he just needed to learn wisdom and grow up a little. He explained Joseph was an arrow being polished for the Lord's quiver so that he would be ready to go on God's time.

Ever since I heard that particular interpretation of Joseph's story, I've wondered about it, most particularly the "short end of the stick" part. Although Joseph went through many trials, could it really be claimed that he got the "short end of the stick"?

I decided to read that story again during Adoration yesterday and try to do so with new eyes.

You all know the story: Joseph is a child of his father's old age, so is a favored and quite coddled son. One night Joseph has a dream that he and his brothers were binding sheaves, and the all arose and bowed to Joseph's sheaf. His next dream was of the sun, moon, and stars bowing down to him, and this second dream annoyed even Joseph's father.

As I read that, I could see, of course, how Joseph was taunting his brothers. While on the surface he seems only to be revealing a dream, it's easy to imagine the not-so-pure fallen human using the dream against his brothers instead of simply keeping it to himself. His father's own reaction, rebuking Joseph, seems to support the fact that he did indeed realize Joseph was being a pill and was not merely innocently recounting a dream.

Joseph's brothers then went off to move the flock and one day Israel ordered Joseph to find them to see if they are well, and to bring word back.

This next part is fascinating, for it seems out of place:

Gen 37:14-17
So he sent him from the valley of Hebron and he came to Shechem. And a man found wandering in the fields; and the man asked him, "what are you seeking?"
"I am seeking my brothers," he said, "tell me, I pray you, where they are pasturing the flock."
And the man said, "They have gone away, for I heard them say 'Let us go to Dothan'."
So Joseph went after his brothers and found them at Dothan.

Every time I read this story, I pause at this section. Who is this random unnamed man? Look again at the dialogue: "What are you seeking?"  And Joseph doesn't answer with a "what", but a "who".  "I am seeking my brothers." 

Joseph is given direction by the unnamed man who clearly knew who his brothers are, and he goes, and finds them.

This passage is so loaded; it reveals a prefigurement of the Messaiah, and a subtle shift in power; it is not his brothers who seek him, but Joseph who seeks his brothers.

Of course, he finds them, they plot to kill him and at the behest of Reuben who wants no harm to come to his brother, convinces them to put him in a cistern instead (so Rueben can restore him to his father). Instead, Joseph is sold into Ismaelite slave traders, who take him to Egypt and sell him to Pharaoh's Captain of the Guard.

Genesis Chapter 39 tells us that the Lord was with Joseph and he became a very successful man as a slave in Potiphar's house, and finds favor; he was actually placed in charge of the household.

Then the woman of the house hit on him and when Joseph refused to submit, fleeing the woman's greedy embrace, she lied and accused him of attacking her, causing him to be thrown into prison.

Genesis 39:21-22 tells us the favor of the Lord was steadfast and he caused the prison keeper to have regard for Joseph, and all prisoners were placed into his care. It was in this context that Joseph met the butler and baker of the king of Egypt.

The two servants of the king had mysterious dreams, and Joseph found them downcast, and upon learning the dreams, stated, "Do not interpretations belong to God?"  So they told Joseph the dreams and he interpreted them; both came to pass as Joseph said. The baker was executed and the butler restored to the King's service.

Two years later the Pharaoh had a dream, and the Butler remembered Joseph and told the King about him. Joseph was summoned from prison and brought before the King, where he interpreted the dream and gave advice on how to proceed with the prediction of the oncoming famine. Because of his gift and his wisdom, the Pharaoh set Joseph as his second in command and put him in charge of preparing for the famine.

Reality Check

As I re-read all of this, I kept pondering the protestant preacher's words:  Joseph was getting the short end of the stick? Really?

Let's take a closer look:

Well, first we have a spoiled brat who taunts his brothers, and he brothers go overboard on the revenge. OK, granted, that was a pretty awful thing to do; to plot to kill one's own flesh and blood and then sell him into slavery. Very low. That does seem to be quite a detriment.

Well, Ishmaelite slave traders weren't exactly known for being gentle folk, and Joseph could have been sold anywhere - but no, he want to Pharoah's Captain of the Guard. Then he is placed in charge of the household. Oh, right, he was thrown into prison for a crime he did not commit, but then he still found favor. After all, as scripture tells us, the favor of the Lord was upon Joseph and everywhere he went, even prison, he was the favored son and experienced the best of conditions.

No matter how I read this, I simply can't see that Joseph EVER got the "short end of the stick."

Did he suffer trials? Indeed, and yes, they were harsh!

Still, Joseph was cared for by God, and I see those trials as a purification; he had misused his gift and had to be taught how to use it. Not to benefit himself, but, rather, to benefit others. He had to learn not to abuse his gift to grow in regard of others, but rather, to grow in humility and wisdom.

While Joseph, after he favorably interpreted the dream for the Butler, asked him to remember him when he was restored, and revealed he was unjustly imprisoned, we hear not a word of complaint from him for the two following years as he continued his prison work.

It was not until he was sufficiently purified in God's eyes that he was called upon to place his gift and himself at the service of the Pharaoh and all his kingdom, and ultimately, his own family.

What are you seeking?

Look again at the unnamed man in the field and his conversation with young spoiled Joseph.

He was seeking his brothers, and even when those who had sold him came to him, he sought until he had found them all. Joseph was not satisfied with only a few brothers; he ached for his family and his homeland and knew he could not reveal his identity until the time was right, and when all had been properly restored...and forgiven.

Food I Would Serve Jesus - Fall Edition: SOUP!

Welcome to Fall!  In honor of the changing of the seasons to my favorite time of year, and also celebrating the Feast of St. Padre Pio, I bring you....SOUP!

Yesterday I was craving Italian soup, and couldn't find a recipe for what I wanted...so I made it up as I went along, stopping at the store only to get the main ingredient: ground Italian sausage.

The soup was comprised otherwise of the items I already had on hand and needed to use, and so, with this monastery-like "spirit of poverty", I dedicate my new invention to my dear St. Padre Pio - I would serve it to  him and to Jesus without reserve!

Italian Sausage-Tomato Soup:

1 package sweet ground Italian sausage - Johnsonville
Chicken broth - I used a box of Swanson's 1/3 less sodium
Vidalia onion
1 can diced tomatoes, garlic and basil flavor (I had DelMonte on hand)
1 fresh perfectly sweet tomato (from Aldi's)
thyme
fresh basil
oregano
garlic
celery salt
rosemary
tomato sauce (well, I didn't have any so substituted leftover pizza sauce)
red wine vinegar

Directions:

Start to heat the chicken broth in a soup pot while browning the sausage and chopped onion in a sauce pan. "Break" it up as you go so you don't have huge misshapen meatballs. Drain excess fat, then carefully add the meat/onion mixture to the broth. Open the can of Italian diced tomatoes, add to the pot, along with the other chopped fresh tomato - as many as you'd like. Add the tomato sauce and herbs according to taste. Cover the pot and simmer, but stir and taste-test occasionally for balance.  I also added additional water to the broth, and salted with celery salt.

When you're satisfied with the flavor, add some kind of pasta. I had Orzo in the cupboard so used that, but any pasta would be fine - take care not to overwhelm with the pasta unless that's what you're going for. I wanted a very "brothy" soup, something perfect for dipping a hard roll into.

Serve with crackers or bread of your choice, garnish with Parmesan cheese and a fresh basil leaf.

Enjoy!

A few notes:

If you can, cook this in a slow-cooker so you can really give the flavors a chance to blend. I simmered on the stove for a couple hours, but I'm picky that way. You could simmer uncovered for a much shorter period of time and it would still be very tasty!

As this soup is very basic, you could turn it into a hearty stew by adding other garden vegetables, substitute the pork for ground turkey - the sky's the limit! (Not that turkeys fly or anything).  :-)

Perhaps I'll re-post my French Onion Soup recipe soon, complete with a photo of the finished product. Anyone interested?

Restored to Innocence

A couple days ago, I went to Confession, cringing once again at having the same laundry-list of sins. I'm the kind of person who could probably LIVE in a confessional and never run out of sins ot confess, but of course, if I were to never leave, I would never have a chance to try to overcome my numerous faults and weaknesses that lead me into sin.

Every now and then I long for the days of childhood innocence; back when I didn't understand real evil and even better, had never experienced it or had been the author of it.  Yet even this frivolous longing carries within it God's grace, for it makes me even more grateful for the Sacrament of Confession.

All of this was on my mind when I entered the tiny room and knelt down behind the screen, the priest already intoning the beginning of this most sacred rite. I listed my sins...as always...knowing that God already knew what I had done and had only been waiting for me to come to Him to take full responsiblity and ask for the grace to overcome them, to start anew. Once again.

I listened to the advice of the priest and when prompted, began my Act of Contrition, the very same one I learned back in First Grade when I received the Sacraments.

"Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you. I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell....

And then it happened. I can't properly explain it, but there, as I prayed the words, it was as if I was taken back in time to a confessional long long ago. I was again six years old, and, having confessed my little sins, things like fighting with my brother and disobeying my mother, was moving haltingly through the Act of Contrition. I could feel my page-boy style hair cut and in my mind's eye, see a little of the light of day peeking through the woven wicker-type screen, revealing the silhouette of Fr. W. as he waiting patiently for me to complete the prayer, his hand already raised in anticipation of absolution.

But most of all, because I offended You, O my God, who are all Good and deserving of all my love....

There I was, kneeling in the Confessional, an adult, having committed much greater sins, having now had a long life of having gravely, over and over again, severed my relationship with God in ways I couldn't even have imagined as a child. I knelt there and the tears came as I recalled that sweet, sweet innocence of childhood.
 

I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to confess my sins...

 
It truly was as though suddenly, I was a child again, kneeling humbly before my God, knowing His Mercy, and overwhelmed because I am also an adult, an adult who has been wounded by sin. As I said that ancient prayer, I knew without a doubt that in my sorrow, in my repentance, in my desire and will to lean on God in order to overcome my sin, in His Mercy He indeed restored me to that beautiful innocence of childhood.
 

...to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.

 
Still experiencing the sense of timelessness, lost in the echoes of childhood, I bowed my head to receive Absolution, my tears turning to joy with the unmerited, undeserved gift of a greater knowledge of God's incredible love. 
 
As I stood to go, renewed, restored, I had come fully to myself again but could still turn to look at memory's image of me as a six year old, skipping gaily out of the confessional when only moments before I'd trudged in shyly and a bit guiltily, sent in to expose to the light the sins that could only exist under the cover of darkness.
 
I wiped the tears away as I returned to the chapel where I knelt once again to pray, this time to offer my assigned penance, raising my eyes to Jesus in thanksgiving, knowing His mercy is eternal and that in His eyes, I am once again a child of God.
 
Through the Sacrament of Confession, Jesus gave me glimpse through His own eyes; now I know that I need not long for that innocence of childhood, for it is but a mirror image of holiness, and through the grace of the Sacraments, we each can be that reflection for eternity. That is our Call.
 
The Sacrament of Confession restores us; no matter what we have done, by humbly accusing ourselves before God, through contrition for our sins, we open ourselves to His Grace. While we may still suffer the effects of sin, God remembers no more what He has forgiven. It doesn't matter if we are six or seven or eighty-one; once we have come to Jesus, it is, in His eyes, as though those things have never happened. We are, once again, a mere child He delights to indulge in His great love.
 
Thank you, Jesus.