A New Stage

It's no secret that I've been suffering from writer's block.

Part of it is the fact that because I work in a parish, sitting down on my off time to write about religious topics feels like work. And not work I really care to do, especially when I'm supposed to be getting away from work.

I've been seriously considering bringing this blog to a close simply because I don't think I have anything else to say. It's all been said or is perhaps being said better by someone else.

Still...this blog has been a wonderful outlet for me over the last several years, and I've met many friends, learned many things and I admit it's still a bit of an attachment. So, instead of hanging it up I'm switching gears for awhile.

That's right...I signed up for NaNoWriMo for the first time.

Perhaps, I thought, if I can put my focus into a non-religious topic, perhaps I'll find my Catholic muse again, and my motivation.

Or, perhaps, once November hits, because I'm supposed to be working on a novel, I may be struck once again by great topics for the blog.

Who knows? In any case, expect more erratic posts about random topics of interest to me (if not by anyone else) and, if you REALLY want me to post something, feel free to post your own random questions to spark my motivation.

After all, one of the things I love to do is answer sincere questions about our faith by people seeking to grow deeper in their relationship with Christ.

Until my next inspiration.....

Story Time with Adoro - Inanity

Since all of my 4 readers (God bless you!) have asked me to continue with "Story Time with Adoro" I thought I would indulge them this evening.  This post was originally published back on April 4, 2007 but I think it would be just as happy now in July of 2010.  

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One of the things no one knows about me is that I was once interviewed on the radio. In the studio. I'm certain that no one I knew actually heard me so this is knowledge only the DJ those present happens to have, and they've probably all long forgotten about it.

On the day we graduated from Firefighter training and were sworn in in a ceremony in which no one in my life other than my boyfriend at the time, himself a Firefighter for same city, cared to be present,  we "cadets" had a small gathering in a restaurant in downtown Minneapolis. We just had some drinks and appetizers, and then a few of us decided to hang out before the party in the evening, so we ran a few errands, picked up some beverages, and we ran out to my friend's part-time job (might have been volunteer): the B-96 studio in Minneapolis.

We all went in with her in order to get a glance at the inside of the biz, and she greeted the on-air DJ joyfully as they knew each other well, being fellow DJ's an' all. She told him that we'd graduated/were sworn-in that day.

He paused, appraised us all for a moment, and said softly, directly to our friend, shaking his head, "Aww...you KNOW I gotta put you on..." He smiled at us all, thrilled to be able to provide something other media sources didn't know anything about.

I can still hear the melodic tone of his voice; the man was born to be on the airwaves.

We found ourselves presently in a small conference room that could maybe fit 10 or fewer around the table. We all had microphones in front of us, corresponding with each chair. I wondered if I was suddenly cast onto the set of "Frazier." Was a Jack Russel terrier about to bound into the room barking? Was Roz going to enter making some sort of snide comment, with Frazier retorting in his high-falutin' over-educated, under-intelligenced manner?

No...this was a small radio station established off of Olson Memorial Highway in Minneapolis, home to the proud DJ's of urbandome.

Our friend was in her element, clearly comfortable. The rest of us just stared at each other and her with mixed emotions; excitement, trepidation...fear we would say something completely stupid and the whole world would have a front-row ear while they drove home from work.

When our friend got the signal, she started in with a typical trendy radio introduction, obviously her regular opening line. I'd never seen her happier. She explained the context of our sudden presence on the airwaves and went into "interview" mode, placing herself both as a DJ they all knew and as a participant in the accomplishments we'd shared in training.

I can't remember the exact question she posed, but I think it had something to do with our biggest challenges faced as women in firefighter training.

What an opportunity! What a moment! To be able to speak for and encorage women everywhere!

We went around the table, introducing ourselves as directed. I think we gave our ages (we were all in our 20's), and then we answered "the question."

I said something to the effect that I "learned to face and overcome a lot of fears...and I'll always take that with me."

So there it is. My one-liner which will never go down in history. My moment in the spotlight...and the ultimate reality of inanity, forever disappearing into the deepest inaninty of history, forgotten, buried, never to be heard again.

(Please do not flood B96 for requests of our interview on that fall morning late in 2001.)

So! I invite you into the inanity...I challenge all my readers to provide their own moment of inanity, and nothing is too inane! (This post should serve as proof of that....)

PICTURE THIS!

It's time for "Story Time With Adoro". So settle in with your hot cocoa or tea or, if you really need something harder, then your beer, wine or multiple shots of JD to get you through it. I'll wait....

Ready?  OK!

This week I've reconnected via Facebook with several college friends. Some are people I went back to college-town to see for a couple years after graduation, over big breaks or even just to get out of the Cities. I've mentioned before the bluffs of Winona, and there is something to be said for being a solitary Being in the center of such earthly formations....not to mention the evenings with good friends, cheap beer and lots of laughter!

Tonight I had a "chat" with one of those long-lost friends, and believe me, we go way back to freshman year. Some of what we discussed reminded me of a particular event, of which he was actually not a part. Just the same, I was laughing out loud at the memory of my first "keg bust', something I haven't thought of in YEARS!

Are you paying attention now?

This probably isn't what you'd expect.

As Sophia Would Say:  Picture This!

It was nearing the near-end of the semester and I had a test, maybe a Midterm, early the next morning. I also had a MASSIVE cold and had taken the proper dose of Nyquil in order to get some sleep that night.

Sometime in the wee hours, though, the phone rang. In my Nyquil-induced haze, I picked it up, wondering what I was supposed to do with that noise-making thing. Out of pure habit I brought it to my ear and can't say I was terribly surprised to hear the Security Supervisor on duty say, "There's a party going on in the bluffs."

I sniffed as I contemplated this voice coming from the handset. "Oh Kay"

Supervisor: "They have a keg."

Me:  "Ah."

Supervisor  "We have to get the tap."

Me, staring confusedly into thin air:  "Oh Kay."    *click!*

I hung up and after several minutes, realized I'd just agreed to help bust a party. After all, it was my job....well...kinda. Not really knowing what I was doing, I got dressed and headed into the sharp chill of a dewy May night in Minnesota.

By the time Jim let me in and I had my bearings, I was wondering what I was doing out of bed and at work in my condition. But instead of dropping back into a coma on the spot, I found myself following Jim, and in the company of a couple other confused and sleepy security "officers", we walked across the field, over the creek, and into the bluffs...where we found a keg party complete with dancing ninjas at what we called the Shroom Shack.

Oh, wait....some of that might have been the Nyquil.

But I do recall a brief confrontation, I recall that the crowd disbursed, and that when Jim told them the college rules, some guy, as if scripted, complained,  "But that's not fair!"

In my sleepiness I muttered to him, "The Fair's in July...you'll have to come back then...  *yawn*"

Jim and I carried the keg and the tap down with us to the office. During that walk I pondered why the carnies weren't carrying the keg down...then I remembered it wasn't July.

When we finally got there and had a chance to rest, I thought that keg might actually be a pillow. So Jim gave me a pen and paper and at his direction I wrote, 'Merry Christmas!" and put that post-it note on the keg as a very early gift for the Director of Security, who would come in the next morning to find this "gift" in his office.

Then I stood up and said, "I'm going to bed now" and proceeded to stagger down the hallway, out the door, down the sidewalk, into my dorm, and into my room where I think I might actually have collapsed on the floor because climbing onto the top bunk was too much work.

Can't tell you how I did on my final but I KNOW I got a degree from that University, so I must have done OK.

Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to that keg, though.....

*yawn*  

But I don't care enough for it to keep me awake at night.....

Deep Thoughts With Adoro

I have been pondering friendship the last couple days, very grateful for my many friends, all those present locally,  those I met through the internet (blogging, etc.), and those I have yet to meet in person.

What's so wonderful is how many of them want to be Saints, are striving every day for holiness, and many times without even realizing it they are dragging me kicking and screaming with them.  (Other times I just let myself be dragged!).

This pondering made me realize, though, that none are without fault. Although admittedly some of my friends have faults that are less apparent, none would ever yet claim to be saints...and if they did we'd laugh at them!  :-)

So as I pondered, I realized that true friendship consists in people who put up with each other's faults and imperfections as gently as necessary, and as firmly as needed...and they are always there when you need them.

Thank you, to all my friends, for helping me to try to be as holy as I ought, for not slamming me when I'm down in my weakness, and for helping me to be a better friend to you.

God bless you.

Return of the Dog Woman

A few years ago, after I'd moved into my town home association, I went to an annual board meeting where I met a few of my neighbors.

As a couple neighbors and I introduced ourselves to each other, we discussed our pets and one of them asked if I was the one with the "two big dogs".

Ayup. "I'm the Dog Lady,"

They both immediately nodded enthusiastically, commenting on how they'd seen me with my two canines.

*sigh*

That's when I realized the truth about myself:  I grew up to be the neighborhood Dog Woman.

*sigh*

Well, then my greyhound got bone cancer and one day as I helped him limp around our building to relieve himself, a neighbor stopped her van and asked me what was wrong with him. I told her sadly that he had cancer and didn't have much time.

And it wasn't much time....a week after that he was gone. And on that day, while I was getting the mail, another neighbor asked me how he was...and I had to tell him I'd had to put him down that very day.

Dang, I still cry just THINKING about it!

For a long time, I've considered fostering as I know I can handle two dogs in my house, albeit within certain limitations.  As you recall, a few weeks ago I wrote about this possibility. I knew back when I lost my greyhound and I know now that I can't afford to adopt another dog, but it costs me nothing but time, space, and a little piece of my heart to foster.

Well, it seems my application has been conditionally approved, although the first dog slated for me apparently never made it to Minnesota.  This weekend, though, I received a call about another shipment, and one dog  in particular the organization thought would work in my little household.

The dog in question belonged to a breeder who decided he was of no more use to him, so he dumped him off at a local shelter. Apparently this discarded stud is sweet, gentle, and shy, just in need of a good home.  As he's older he'd probably do well in my own quiet abode.

Of course I read his story and turned into a big ball of mush, as I do with so many discarded-pet tales.  As it is, I'm the 4th or 5th owner of my current German Shepherd, and seriously don't understand what others thought was "wrong" with her. I know part of her story and even met a past owner (that's an awesome tale), but the rest....BAH!

All I can say is:   What is WRONG with people????

So I said yes to this, and I'm going to try my hand as a "foster Mom" for dogs. 

Now, I know some troll is going to come by and insinuate that I hate children or don't find abused children to be so compelling as I'm not fostering THEM, etc. etc.  (There seems to be one such troll in every crowd).  So let me just head that question off:

 I am a single woman and the fact that I love animals and am available to foster dogs doesn't mean I'd be a good foster MOTHER, adoptive MOTHER or that I'm called to MOTHERHOOD at all.

And the last time I checked, it's not lawful to lock a child up in a kennel and go to work all day.

However, the treatment above is RECOMMENDED for dogs and I'm actually equipped for that.  I also seem to have a talent with abused and discarded animals, so maybe it's time I put it back into use. Some person or family will one day benefit, but for now, I'm making room in my home and my heart for another pet.

This is going to be hard, I suspect, as is anything worthwhile.

The dog in question does have a name, but I always swore that if I got another German Shepherd, and more specifically, a male, I'd name him Benedict after our dear Papa, our German Shepherd.

So from here on out, this dog  to come will be known as Benedict I, or "Ben" for short, maybe to be followed by other "Ben's".  We'll see how this one goes first.

I guess the Dog Woman is back.

** Note: Pictured above is my dog, not the "Unknown Benedict I"

Random Thoughts about Beauty and Rage

On Real Beauty:

I was thinking about beauty today, especially beauty in the faces of the people I love. Most are not beautiful by the world's standards, for we are just average, every-day people. I considered how maybe the surface-attractiveness as defined by the world might at times draw us to people, none of us really recognizes it as a defining feature.  Rather, we look at the wrinkles, the laugh lines, the dimples, the surface imperfections that, together paint a tapestry.  When I think of my friends and loved ones, I remember them with animation. They are not cold photographs, but flesh and blood with quick smiles, ready expressions and identifiable mannerisms that draw me past the surface and into their real presence.

They say that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and I must disagree.  To simply "behold" is to remain at the surface. To enter into real friendship and to know someone as they are, no matter what they reveal on the surface is true beauty.

Beauty isn't revealed in the appearance of the skin covering mere bones, but in the life that animates us all, giving glory to God.

On Rage Against Beauty:

It occurred to me at Mass last night that there is a reason so many rage against the perfect beauty of the Mass, and seek to remove the symbolism and accoutrements that draw us deeply into the mystery.  The Mass is the fullness of life, it reveals the fullness of God if we would but pay attention, and it is both the source of summit of all things.  This is the very depths of beauty as God intended it. It far transcends our paisley-colored lives, the Naugahyde coverings we use to either adorn our imperfections or block out the light of Christ.

It is no surprise that so many rage against the Mass, for when it is properly celebrated it reveals the fullness of God, forcing us to recognize the emptiness of our souls when we come face-to-face with Him.  Those who cannot stand the revelation are enraged, and instead of realizing true beauty and perfection, they seek to destroy the mirror that reveals them to themselves.

As Gaudium et spes, 22, tells us, "God reveals man to himself, making his supreme calling clear."  When we are not living up to our supreme calling, it is much easier to seek to destroy and thus deny the revelation of Truth than it is to shed the vestiges of a false life and choose to embrace holiness.

Hunting Season in Minnesota

I haven't gone deer hunting in several years, but I thought it would be fun to show you the only deer I ever had the opportunity to shoot. I'm proud to say I was quite successful in that endeavor:

Unfortunately that one had to stay in its natural habitat. Not fit for human consumption. What a pity. Under all that blaze orange, that one had nice flanks. And just LOOK at that rack!

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Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no deer were harmed in the production of this photograph. If a deer had actually been harmed, it would be displayed, hanging, with its innards removed and me standing next to it drenched in gore, grinning widely. That would have been followed by a photograph of me grilling the recently deceased in my special steak marinade.

But instead of that nice feast, all you get is this lousy picture.

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La Violencia

I often regard the "eco-spirituality" people with absolute astonishment. They preach peace and nature and love, wanting to save whatever given species, which of course, in and of itself, is a laudable endeavor.

I have long been a nature-lover. I grew up in a country neighborhood and learned to tell the weather from the mood of the birds and the reflection of the river we could see through our living room window. I love seeing God revealed in His creation, noting the hierarchy of life that surrounds us, no matter where we live. Even here, where I reside in the city, I am not apart from the beauty of the earth; we have an elusive albino squirrel, Moe the Mole (and his relatives all over the park), eagles, ducks, geese...many birds and bunnies.

So you see, I am no enemy to conservation or proper stewardship of the earth.

What amazes me, though, is that those who put that platform above and beyond where it SHOULD be are in complete denial about the true hierarchy of nature and the utter violence of it.

Nature is VIOLENT!

Last summer, while taking my dog for a "walk" in the common yard of my town home community, I noted that there was a small dead bird lying in the tray of my neighbor's feeder. After I brought my dog inside, I donned gloves and returned to the hanging feeder, hoping to rectify the situation.

The bird had obviously not died of gluttony, even though its head was stuck inside the vertical tubular feeder, but from attack. Blood was apparent all over its feathers, and as I carefully wrapped my gloved fingers around the lifeless body, I saw that its neck was broken and jutting outward.

An inquisitive worm poked his head out through the hole the bird's spine had made, investigating my glove, wondering why his meal was moving.

After a few pulls, when the head did not come loose, I realized that the only thing to do was to yank HARD to remove it. I couldn't do it. It didn't matter that the bird wouldn't feel it; I knew that I'd forever remember the sensation of the yank, leaving the head to rot on the rest of the food still in the tube.

I couldn't do it. As I removed my gloves and returned to my house, reflecting on the violent nature of..well..nature, another neighbor came out onto his deck so I explained the problem. The next time I went by the feeder, the bird's body was gone. I suspect the head remained, but decided not to think about it.

Predatory Violence

Today while walking my dog, I saw a bird sweep down towards the street and fly past us, carrying something in its talons. I stopped, trying to observe what it had. A small bird? A mouse? Roadkill?

I couldn't identify the bird immediately.

Amazingly it alighted on the branch of a large tree nearby, perched upon its prey. I carefully waked back towards it, trying to see what it had.

I am not a birdwatcher so can't say for certain what it was, but thought perhaps it was a red-tailed hawk. It had a hooked beak (typical of predatory birds) and a red breast. It turned once, its tail spread outward for balance, and I saw a horizontal striped pattern. Beautiful creature.

Cruel creature, predator that it was. Yet who was I to fault this creature for seeking a meal according to its nature?

I was fascinated.

The prey was still alive and I thought maybe it was a mouse...it was grey, but seemed...large. Then the hawk (or falcon?) let it go, and it spread out to reveal its identity...a full-grown grey squirrel!

I was amazed! The squirrel was almost as big as the bird, at least in length! And was clearly injured..I don't know that the squirrel will survive. It might have been partially paralyzed, based on how it moved itself towards the safety of the trunk of the tree.

Violent Spiritual Combat

The last time I met with my Spiritual Director, we discussed spiritual combat. I told him, in detail, of my occult/new-age history. It wasn't that he hadn't known before, only that other things were the focus and I felt he needed to know this, of the battles I face, some of which are, at times, physical.

He simply noted that all of us face spiritual battles and for some, it is more intense than for others. He was right.

Ever since our meeting, I have been plunged into a darkness I can't understand...even though I do. I've been faced with my greatest sins, my greatest weaknesses. For the last week every time I have attended Mass I've been holding back tears to the degree that it has distracted me from the prayers of the Mass. I've been discouraged, I've fallen away from God, I've come back through Confession, and I find myself still fleeing shadows, most caused by myself.

This weekend I got together with my little family, whom I haven't seen since early this summer, although we've spoken on the phone. They wanted to "hear" all about my visits of July and August. Yet I couldn't speak. I nearly bit their heads off! I couldn't talk about it. I tried, and my brother immediately revealed that he disagreed even with my initial premise...

He asked me to give my favorite. I explained I didn't have a favorite. He didn't agree. I told him OF COURSE he didn't agree, because it wasn't like anything he'd ever done before! He tried to press the issue, and I said I wasn't going to discuss my discernment. Mom was conciliatory and seemed to understand. Brother didn't.

But it didn't justify me biting his head off.

My nature is violent, too.

I can't remove the body of a dead bird from its head, but I have no problem removing my brother's head from his living body.

He doesn't understand, and neither does Mom. I don't even understand my violent reaction to his sincere query. I don't understand my inability to discuss my discernment, even the simplest things of my own "apostolic visitation" this summer.

All I know is that I can't talk about it. Not with anyone. I have no desire to do so, I have an abhorrence of doing so, such that any inquiry into it seems to cause an immediate reaction designed to shut down any further inquiry.

I feel so bad for my family and anyone who knows me.

I don't know if I'm the Hawk or the injured prey or simply a disgruntled observer.

I don't know who I am..who I have ever been.

I'm Exhausted by the Violence

Yet there has been grace; a direction towards some advice from St. Ignatius of Loyola this week was helpful, and is something I continue to consider.

Today at Mass, in nearly every moment I was in tears, and thankfully, was nearly alone in my pew. I don't know why I was so emotional, or felt so alone. I thought back often to St. Ignatius's advice about discouragement, trying to keep self-pity at bay. I knew that God saw me, God knew every little thing and would respond when and where it was needed...and not in response to my pitiful self-love.

As it was, a guy I knew sat in front of me with his little girl; I don't know where his wife was. At the sign of peace I was in la-la-land for a moment causing him to hold his hand out in limbo for awhile before I returned peace, a little sheepishly. After Mass we spoke for awhile and I have to admit..it was God's Providence to connect with him, for I had what he needed in the form of information...and he had what I needed in the form of connection.

I have to admit that as a single woman, so often, especially when I am in such a mood, I really just want someone to NOTICE my existence, because I feel so totally, totally isolated.

So I saw God's intervention, then, that as I approached Father, he, knowing me, seeing the bag in my hands, realized I had something to be blessed. He was ready. It doesn't matter that I haven't asked him personally to bless anything in MONTHS. He saw me, he saw what I had, and by the time I reached him he already had his hand raised in blessing.

It was nice to be known. It was nice to be seen.

I'd rather keep my tears hidden so the happier things can be seen. I'd rather keep the combat quiet, so that the fruit of it can be observed.

But once in awhile, it's nice if someone knows of the violence, recognizes it, and admits they experience it, too.

Especially if the one who sees it is God...and lets me know He is with me, even through small gestures that come through the hands and friendship of others.

Without them...I could never withstand the violence that is life.

*

I know that I am the wounded squirrel, still escaping the hawk. I live among this violence, hoping that, in the end, I'm not the bird left decomposing with my head stuck in a feeder...containing food I can never ingest.

Nature is violent. Never forget it.

**

A Few Random Thoughts

This post is going to offend people, I'm afraid, but I'm going to write it anyway.

Active Avoidance

It's Saturday, I'm busy cleaning because my family is coming today, and of course...I should be studying, which is why I'm doing everything BUT study. Ah, that is the nature of the student!

Most grad students (and some undergrads) I know report that while they were in school, their homes have NEVER been cleaner. When sitting down with a difficult tome and prospect of an intimidating paper, that spot on the carpet that has been there for YEARS suddenly becomes a major distraction. One must make it go away as soon as possible and by all necessary means!

Ok, moving on to other thoughts now:

"Preach the Gospel - If Necessary Use Words" BLAH! MYTHOLOGY!

I have a t-shirt I purchased a few years ago sporting a San Damiano cross on the front and the caption, attributed to St. Francis, "Preach the Gospel. If Necessary, Use Words."

It's a nice sentiment, but I only wear the shirt if I run out of other t-shirts or can cover it up. Why? Because St. Francis never said it and I don't want to be part of perpetuating a lie.

In fact, St. Francis was KNOWN for his fiery preaching! The man did NOT mince words, and not only did he preach conversion in no uncertain terms, he lived the gospel he preached and expected others to follow that example. Not his example specifically, but the example of Christ. Yes, St. Francis did indeed lead others to live his same life (The Franciscans, anyone?), but he was NOT one to say "if necessary, use words." He COUNTED on words, just as he counted on the importance of LIVING those words out in daily life.

"Singing is Praying Twice"

Thankfully I don't have the above on a t-shirt, but if it's even possible, that mythological quote is another one that makes me cringe. St. Augustine never said that.

A few years ago I was in on an interview committee trying to hire a music director for a youth choir, and part of the job did involve a certain amount of theological formation. The applicant came out with the above quote, and let's just say...it didn't help his case.

The use of a mythological quote to support one's "qualifications" and elevating said quote to the status of fact actually leads one to realize that said applicant actually has never READ the Saint.

St. Augustine DID write, "Singing belongs to one who loves." and he wrote, "For he who sings praise, does not only praise, but also praises joyously; he who sings praise, is not only singing, but also loving Him whom he is singing about/to/for. There is a praise-filled public proclamation in the praise of someone who is confession/acknowledging God, in the song of the lover there is deep love." (Corpus Christianorum Latinorum vol. 39)

(note: I have this in a printed sheet from an article written by the famous Fr. Z.)

Nowhere did St. Augustine ANYWHERE write "he who sings prays twice." Please stop perpetuating the myth that he did.

Do promote singing well

Do promote praying well.

Please promote doing both together at the same time in situations that call for it.

But please stop with the myths. Thank you.

Passing On Advice to All Bloggers

Not long after I began my blog, back when I didn't have many followers, I was invited to a local blog gathering (and think another one is due.)

I'm not sure if any of my readers are familiar with Dan Lacey of Faith Mouse, but he was one of the locals who attended that inaugural gathering.

He'd been involved in blogging and various forums for a long time, and was often deeply involved in online discussions with people of other religious or non-religious beliefs. I found his perspective to be very helpful as I continued in what I consider to be my own little apostolate in my tiny corner of the internet.

At the time, I think I was already doing what he advised, but what he said underscored the importance of continuing it and the REASONS for doing so!

I think it's something most bloggers grasp, but some don't, and others perhaps don't have the time.

Here is what Mr. Lacey advised me, and which I pass on to you:

Every commenter deserves a response. They come by your blog, and given the millions out there, they happened upon YOURS and found something YOU said worthy of their time to fully read it and comment upon it.

Out of respect for them, they are owed a reply.

Bloggers should take the time to reply to EVERYONE who leaves a comment, whether you think they will be back or not. A simple response can make all the difference to someone, maybe for reasons known only to them and to God.

I haven't quoted Mr. Lacey as I can't remember his exact words, but the above was the gist of what he said.

Over the last few years, I have seen this bourne out several times, and I admit that I judge other bloggers by this standard as well. Maybe it's unfair. I don't know. But you who have been in the world of blogging awhile, whether as commenters or bloggers or both, think about your own experience and share your opinion on this.

For myself, I do try to respond to every comment. Yes, some get missed sometimes, and some don't seem to be looking for a reply, just adding their two cents. But I do try to respond to new commenters and respectful anonymous comments (although now I do ask anons to write some kid of name to ID themselves.) I've even responded to obvious trolls, against my better judgment.

I once received an email from someone who didn't want to make a public comment on what she had to say, but said one of the reasons she follows my blog was the fact that I took time to respond to people, to interact with them. I was amazed, because, really, I often thought that it didn't matter to anyone but to those to whom I responded. I never considered it would matter to a random observer.

What she said made me think. I follow some bloggers who DON'T respond to comments, either mine or anyone else's.

This may be totally unfair, but when I see that this is the practice of the blogger, to allow comments but never respond to them, I eventually wander away. Those who don't respond seem to be uninterested in interaction or discussion, so why bother wasting my time commenting there when I can go elsewhere? If someone just wants to put his or her words out there and receive comments but not engage, what does that really contribute to the blogging community? Seems they're out for themselves only.

I think it's fine that people want to share their thoughts, but, those of you who don't care to respond should close comments so that your readers don't waste their time. Most of us can't just hang out reading blogs all day and would prefer to leave our comments somewhere where we won't be wasting either your time or ours. It's courtesy.

And, yes, in case any are wondering, I do read blogs that don't allow comments. At times I've quoted them and linked to them! (Those I continue to follow actually state somewhere why they don't respond to comments or why they closed comments. Their explanation is key in getting rid of the perception of arrogance.)

Conversely, I tend to avoid commenting on the really popular celebrity blogs. Amy Welborne, Jimmy Akin, Mark Shea, etc. While I appreciate what they write, the list of hundreds of comments is overwhelming and I'd rather not be part of a gaggle. Even if I think I have something to say, well...so did those 200 other commenters. Never mind. I'll just read the article and treat it as I would a newspaper, thanks. There's no point and no real interaction. And I don't care to comment just to "be seen."

So, to my blogging compadres, what is YOUR practice, and what is YOUR opinion on non-replies, who do you decide to follow and does their interaction make a difference to you?

There are probably a lot of different angles to this. I'd be interested in hearing yours. Although I may not have a comment for each in turn...please don't take offense.

Sometimes a blogger has to just sit back and listen....

;-)

*****

Did You Hear The Train Roar?

Today was a cool, rainy day up here in Minnesota. It was in the low 70's and as far as I knew, there was no expectation or prediction of severe weather. The most we were supposed to get were some massive downpours sometime in the late afternoon. OK, fine. I didn't care. We need rain.

So while at work I went online to check the weather and much to my surprise, a headline caught my attention: a tornado had hit MINNEAPOLIS! As it was, although initially they reported the tornadoe hit the city north of downtown, in actuality it was south, headed north, and did a lot of damage to the neighborhood in which I used to live.

And all I could think was, "REALLY????!!! TODAY??? But but but...the conditions just don't make SENSE!"

There was no warning, for even the meterologists were caught off guard.

The suburb of Cottage Grove also had a small area of tornado damage, and as the storm went north-northeastward, I realized that the storm seemed to be headed in the direction of the city in which I worked. (Thankfully it missed my hometown.)

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

So there I was at work, hearing the weather sirens singing soliloquies to us off and on. What a beautiful serenade of rain and sirens.

I was watching the radar and listening to the live stream reports via my computer, so I knew the sirens were for the county and general area, but not for us. But wait! The storm shifted and then our city was briefly named as being in the path of an area of concern. Uh oh. Even though this violent weather didn't make any sense to me at all, I knew it was serious so realized we might be next to be decimated.

As an aside, my regular readers will remember a post citing my great fear of storms that arose especially after a tornado caught a tree and threw it into our house when I was a child. I've long gotten over that phobia, perhaps too much so. While we were all being told to take cover, what was I doing? Standing by my open office window, watching the sky.

Yup.

I have to admit, I "felt" something changing in the atmosphere, or the pressure...something. I can't explain it. All I knew is...we were waiting for something.

First the rain slowed, and nearly stopped. There were a couple gusts of wind, each a little stronger than the last, but then even that faded to an eerie quiet.

That was followed by a sound...it was wind, from far away, reminding me of the sound of wind reverberating off of rock faces in Sedona. It didn't actually "match" the wind I was "seeing" by the evidence of the trees around the building.

But...was there a note in that wind? I cocked my head, listening, watching the clouds, watching the trees, looking for evidence...of something.

Suddenly the wind slammed into the trees, wringing them in circles, bending them over. The rain hit at the same time, sideways, and through the fog of wind and rain and cloud (?) I could no longer see the entrance to the parking lot. And....there was a roar. I have NEVER heard that sound before but...I have often heard the sound of a train. And that was it.

I slammed the window shut, shouted to my co-workers, "THIS IS IT!"

And I left my little office in the corner, passing my boss who was also closing her window and running after me. The youth minister was leaving her office, also yelling something along the line of "LET'S GO!" and our department secretary was right on her heels. As a department we ran into the hallway and found our designated interior sanctuary.

We'd all seen it. More importantly, we'd all heard it, and independently of one another, for none of us had heard the others yell, we'd fled out offices, simultaneously, seeking a safe refuge.

We've all been through storms there of varying types. But NEVER have we, or have any of us, sensed such an immediate and intense need to FLEE.

More often than not, we're sticking our heads out the window or running to the doors to watch the cool storm.

Not this time. We all seriously thought this was the Big One.

As we stood, briefly in our little hallway, we listened in silence, and I pictured my car being whirled around and slammed into things. I wondered if my car would be waiting for me in my office when we returned to it.

After a few minutes, not hearing breaking glass or anything else, I ventured down the hallway cautiously, approaching the doors.

Nothing was happening outside. It was raining, but that was it. The cars were where we'd left them. So were the big flower pots, minus some of their leaves and blooms.

I pushed through the double doors and stepped outside, while my co-workers (to my surprise, actually) hung back, not even approaching the interior doors. One yelled at me not to get sucked out! (she was only half-serious)

All was well. We returned to our offices. Our secretary said that she's amazed the bushes outside her window still had their leaves...or was even still there.

Our theory is that the area of concern in that storm had gone straight overhead, thus the rotation we witnessed, thus the roar of the train that decided to pass us by in favor of a better stop.

No tornado or even a funnel was reported for the city we were in. But...there were others who witnessed similar things and had the same opinion...it was a very close call.

I have to admit...for a bit after that, I was shaking.

Guess that fight-or-flight response does that, huh?!

7 Things I Love Meme

Mulier Fortis has tagged me for a Meme although she makes a comment about the point of Memes to be to tag the more little-known blogs.

What is she saying? That my blog is little? That I'm not known? Well, I'm not a Big-Time Blogger, but don't insult my beautiful 118 followers! THEY know about me, even if they only randomly read my links! (My dear followers, let me take this moment to thank you, sincerely, for following this not-so-humble blogger who desperately needs all 118 of your prayers if you'd be so generous.)

And Yes, Mac, I know what you mean and I totally agree that linking to other cool but less-well-known blogs is the best thing about Memes! (Yeah, I'm as guilty as you are, for saying "Tag Thyself" maybe even more so!)

So, without further ado, these are Seven Things I Love:

1. Raindrops on roses

2. Whiskers on Kittens

3. Bright copper kettles

4. Warm woolen mittens

5. Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings

6. Catching a firefly and setting him free

7. Tying your shoe for the very first time

*** sound of needle ripping across a record****

OK, ok, the above comes from The Sound of Music and You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. But...the ARE cool things, aren't they? And I DO love all those things and even remember tying my shoe for the very first time! And I mostly like wild geese with the moon on their wings because that view means they're not pooping in the field.

BUT!

You really want REAL stuff? Really? I'm sorry, but I'm really boring and not nearly as poetic, but here goes anyway, the real Adoro. (Yes, I see the irony in that statement.)

(7 Things in no particular order):

1. Roses and Lilacs and Dandelions. Yes, Dandelions. And Violets. Bleeding hearts, Irises, and baby's breath, all together in one bouquet. ALL of these. I've never received such a bouquet but if I did my heart would melt. I know that if anyone were to ever give me such a weird mix of flowers they must REALLY love me because they can't necessarily be obtained from a florist, and I would expect the person to give them to me to know WHY I love those specific flowers. If someone were to know that puzzle, well, that would indicate real love for they'd have to know me WELL to be able to answer it.

2. Horses. I really love horses. And no, little girls don't always "grow out of it." Sometimes we keep that unrequieted longing for life, and that makes it that much more precious.

3. Coming home. No matter how bad my day has been, there is someone there waiting to turn inside-out with joy at my presence. That's only ONE of the things I love about dogs.

4. Coffee. Especially Mystic Monk. 'Nuff said.

5. Writing. If I didn't write, I'd die. You don't want me to die, do you?

6. Mexico. I lived there for a semester, loved it, was crying as I left my host family. The cab driver who picked me up from their house was concerned and so I had to explain I was going home but wanted to stay in Mexico, my new home. Apparently those words endeared me to him and he appreciated that an American could so fall in love with his country and his people. It wasn't hard. Los Mexicanos son muy amables, simpaticos, especialamente para los estudiantes, y su pais es bonitissima. Te amo mucho, Mexico! (Lo siento, no hablo bastante bien, se me olvido' tanto!)

7. Jesus. If I didn't love Him, NONE of what I mentioned above would mean anything at all. He is my reason for being, He CALLED me into being, and love wouldn't be anything but a word if He hadn't revealed the true meaning of love as He gave Himself for all on the Cross. If I love at all, it is only because HE loved first.

I tag.....

Makemeaspark

CUAGUY

Rae of Shadows

Fr. Cory Sticha

Fr. Leo

Joe of St. Therese

Kelly at Gratie Ut Deus

I look forward to reading all your favorite things! (You don't have to be as wordy as me, I'm just being me...and you know that and put up with me despite that character flaw...)

Answers to Many Questions

For some time, I've been taking note of the search engine questions that bring people to my blog. Oddly enough, they often happen upon posts that have absolutely NOTHING to do with their question. Sometimes it IS the right post, but perhaps I didn't address their particular question there.

And so, I've decided, maybe it's time to post some of the answers to the questions people are putting into the search engines, for many people are looking for similiar things. I have written about MOST of the following in the past so this post is to give the short answer. You may need to do more research to find a more complete answer to your question.

Can I go to Communion if I skipped Mass? No. If you intentionally skipped Sunday Mass, then you have committed a mortal (grave) sin and you need to go to Sacramental Confession before you receive Communion again. Additionally, if you skip Daily Mass and just show up for Communion, you should not receive. The Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist are in the Mass for a reason and you need ALL of it to prepare to receive the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ. (You can read the entire post on this and get a more complete answer here.)

Do I have to go to Confession in order to receive Communion? If you have committed grave sin, then you are required to go to Confession before you can receive Communion. However, you can still ATTEND Mass, and you SHOULD, but if you haven't been able to get to Confession, DO NOT RECEIVE HOLY COMMUNION! No one cares if you remain in your pew, so don't commit sacrilege out of a misplaced sense of self-consciousness.

If I'm not Catholic, can I receive Communion in a Catholic Church? No. This is not to make you feel "left out", but rather, to protect the integrity of our beliefs AND your differing beliefs. We believe that the bread and wine truly become the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ during the Consecration. When we go forward to receive Holy Communion, we are declaring in our very actions and intentions that we are free from grave sin, that we believe everything the Church teaches, and that we KNOW what we are receiving. When we say "Amen", we are stating verbally that WE BELIEVE THIS IS JESUS CHRIST!

If you are not Catholic, then you clearly don't believe what we believe, so why would you want to publicly lie and say that you do have that belief? And in fact, if you have done research and DO share that belief...then what is stopping you from becoming Catholic? You can enter an RCIA class and through a time of prayer and education, be received into the Church. (FYI: You can also attend RCIA classes if you're just trying to learn more about the Church and aren't sure if you want to be Catholic or not. Attending classes isn't a committment to convert!)

Can I have coffee before Mass? As long as you finish your coffee one hour before Holy Communion. Water and medicine do not break the fast, but coffee does.

Can I have gum at Mass? No. Gum does not fall under the category of "water and medicine" and so breaks the fast. Some people who should know better have said that gum "isn't food", however Canon Law 919 specifies that ONLY water and medicine are allowed. It doesn't say "anything that isn't food". If your gum can legitimately be considered to be medicine then maybe you can have it, although I wouldn't consider "nicotine gum" be some something you couldn't survive without for an hour or so. Don't be a wuss. Sacrifice is good for you!

Now...if you are not intending to receive Holy Communion, it is considered to be disrespectful to have coffee and gum at Mass. Please refrain and have those things AFTER Mass. Thank you.

"Not attending Mass because I'm being ignored" ~ You know, a lot of people seem to cite this as a reason not to attend Mass. In typing it in a search engine, I don't know if the question is being posed by someone looking for a way to overcome this objection, or if they themselves think they're being ignored and they're looking to justify not attending Mass. So! Here's the answer, and I'm going to make it VERY easy:

Mass is NOT about you! It's about GOD! If YOU are "being ignored", then Praise God! It means that everyone there knows that Mass is the time to worship God, and in so doing, to be present at the Sacrifice of Our Lord! So take the hint, take your focus off of yourself and spend an hour focusing on your Creator who loves you so much He DIED for you! What MORE could you possibly WANT???

"Distracted in prayer" ~ OK, this one is harder and I don't really have an answer. It's something with which we ALL struggle. But, don't be too hard on yourself. If you get distracted, just try to bring your attention back to God. In making that attempt, it is an act of love. If you're going through a period of dryness and you're having trouble praying, or maybe you have ADHD and can't make it through a rosary, then simply pray ONE Hail Mary. Or ONE Our Father. Or even a short prayer to Jesus to help you! Even if the only thing you can pray is "Jesus, I love you!", guess what...that's a prayer! Does it solve distraction? No. But perseverance does. Keep praying!

Patron Saint of Prostitutes ~ The posts I wrote on that remain among my most popular. So....there are 2 Patron Saints of Prostitutes: St. Nicholas (yes, "Santa Clause") Why? Because he saved two girls from being sold into prostitution by their father. This is also among the reason he's also a Patron Saint of children. The OTHER Patron Saint of Prostitutes is St. Mary of Egypt, because she had been a prostitute, reformed, and, well....achieved the heights of holiness which the Church acknowledged by declaring her a Saint!

And for those who are looking for a Saint that ENDORSES prostitution: there isn't one. Saints don't endorse sin, and no, none of us has the authority to decide what is or isn't a sin. Prostitution is a horrible evil in this fallen world and it CANNOT be justified. I hope that answers your question.

Rinsing Saurkraut: Yes, you have to rinse saurkraut. I found that out by looking it up on a cooking website.

Oppression of Women in the Bible : It's a common myth advanced by the feminist regimes that the Bible is oppressive to women. The reality is that although the Bible IS a patriarchal book, it's a very HUMAN book and naturally the patriarchal society is going to be quite apparent. Making the Bible into one with inclusive language is a really stupid attempt to change a fact of history. Secondly, Christianity was actually FREEING to women, who were, in those times, considered to be PROPERTY. Christ gave them the freedom to do something different. It was radical. No, He did not establish them as priests, for if He wanted to do that, He would have made his Mother a priest. Instead, Jesus emphasized the importance of women in salvation history. Now, if you're going to cite Paul's blustery stuff about women, go take a look at history and take this in the proper context. Much of what he was saying he was saying TO women who were finally receiving an education, and didn't know how to behave in an educational setting. He had to teach them manners! Which is completely reasonable, for even in our society teachers have to lay ground rules for the order of their classrooms, whether we are there as adults or children. Are YOU oppressed? Neither were they.

Did Vatican II do away with Latin? No. If you read the Vatican II Document on the Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium (which, as you notice, is a Latin title), you'll see that the only changes called for were a permission to use the vernacular in the readings, an addition of more scripture readings, and Latin/Gregorian Chant were to remain the norm in all the other parts of the Mass.

Note also that every document issued by the Church has a Latin title, and the ONLY language of the Code of Canon Law is....Latin. The few translations out there include the Latin because Latin is more precise and anyone versed in the Law must also look to the usage of Latin since the vernacular translations are often inaccurate and can change the original meaning of the law.

Feast Day of Our Lady of Perpetual Help: June 27 :-)

Does God give us more than we can bear? Yes, He does. And He does it so that we can learn to rely on HIM and not ourselves.

Well, there's at least some of the questions. I hope the answers are helpful to someone!

Know that the answers may not be complete, I'm happy to answer anything else that I can or clarify something, and I'm certain my readers would join in as well if someone posts a question below. As always, don't rely on blogs for the perfect answers. If you are really seeking especially theological answers, then go to the proper sources: Sacred Scripture, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, the Documents of Vatican I, Vatican II, Council of Trent (yes, they are ALL relevant!), etc.

:-)

StoryTime With Adoro: Criminal Law

It's been awhile since I told a "story". People seem to like my stories, even if they don't comment. They ask for them. And, by the way, I don't make these things up. If it's fictional, I say so up front.

Tonight's StoryTime comes as a result of two independent and unrelated inspriations. The first is Anita Moore's post at V for Victory! on the utter ridiculousness, amusement, irritants, and head-shaking she experiences (or has experienced) in Criminal Law. As, at one time I aspired to be a Criminal Attorney, and of course, saw the field from a different perspective, the following is my take in relation to her post:

Amusement: everybody who gets pulled over for drunk driving had "a couple of beers." Everybody who gets caught with marijuana last smoked the stuff "two weeks ago."

~ Anita Moore

Back in my very short time as a cop, I had to work on Thanksgiving. We had early snow that year (technically normal for Minnesota) and the roads, especially at "rural" corners, were covered in snow. It was common knowledge which bars/restaurants were having "parties" that night, and so we patrolled those areas heavily, as well as taking time to cruise our respective assigned zones.

That evening I remember confronting a guy named "Zack" (as we shall call him) outside of Champp's, a local sports bar chain. (I'm not sure if it's national as I'm too lazy to check.) Zack was drunk and was starting fights. But he didn't want to fight me and every time I found it necessary to get in his face and yell at him, he immediately calmed down and became malleable to direction. It helped that at the time he was in handcuffs.

As I recall, we let him go after charging him with Disorderly Conduct, because, in fact, by his willingness to cooperate with me he proved that he actually could take care of himself in spite of his lightweight "couple beers", and some of his friends were a bit wiser than he and desired to get him out of there. So we left and headed to the southern end of the large metro suburb. As we approached a hard left turn in one of the more "remote" heavily wooded neighborhoods, knowing the roads and turn were icy, I had no problem slowing and keeping the Squad under control. Yet it didn't surprise me to see a sedan stuck on that curve, and it surprised me less that there were four guys somewhere around 21 or 22 years of age sitting in that car.

(Mind you...I was 22 years old at the time myself. And yes, wearing a badge and carrying a gun and the authority of the law.)

As I approached the car, I noted they had their windows open and quite jovially greeted us with the air of innocence that belongs only to the guilty. These guys were really really friendly, the sort you'd want to meet any time of the day, and they were working hard to project that image.

I knew immediately they'd been drinking. (As if the car that welded to the ditch could have been suffering anything less!)

Of course, it's not illegal to be tipsy and sitting in the backseat of a ditch-encrusted car. As I joined in their overly-friendly banter, I shone my flashlight through the car, looking for evidence that the guys were still drinking. But my main focus was whether the driver had been drinking. (The fact the car was THAT FAR into the ditch was pretty damning evidence, but not enough for an arrest!)

The driver, too, was very happy to see us and as the peanut gallery in the back seat assured us that a tow had been called already, he showed us his cell phone to prove it, obviously in hopes we would move on.

Clearly they were operating off of the paradigm of "helpful cop" that would move on and ignore the obvious reality that not a single other car had managed to go off that road, and if so, they had managed to not be THAT stuck.

So I played the game, which wasn't hard. After all, I was their age! I knew what I would have been doing if I was still in Winona (although my friends were wise enough to take a cab!)

We talked a little about the weather, the slippery roads, the fact it was Thanksgiving and how our meals had been, etc. And then I "randomly" sprung the key question on the chatty guy in the back seat.

My question was focused on him because he was the obvious spokesperson for the group. I was sure he was the one telling the other guys "what to do". Yeah, I had friends like him, too, and knew that "that guy" was usually wrong, especially when there was trouble. And that made "that guy" the weak link. He had the pinache to think I was wrapped around his finger.

He was wrong.

Me to Chatty Guy in the Backseat: So you guys, how was the party at Champps tonight?"

Chatty-self-appointed-spokesman-guy in the backseat: It was great, there were TONS of people there!

I let him go on for awhile, nodding and smiling in seeming approval.

Then I said to the cringing and strangely silent driver who had long put his cell phone away, "Sir, will you step out of the car, please?"

The driver immediately opened the door, deer-in-the-headlights, and told me as he did so that he'd only had "a couple".

In appraising the position of his car and the proportionate support of his passengers, I wondered, "A couple kegs or a couple bottles of hard liquor?"

Well, let's just say this guy failed his field sobriety test and subsequently blew something over .20. At the time, MN was .10. And because our backup officers were vigilant and quietly circled around while I was "chatting up" the passengers, he was the one to spot the Open Bottle violations in the back seat.

Yup, it was a successful night.

Tonight, a local News Station, KARE11 , had a special on the Mounted Police in Minneapolis. (Not online as of this writing)

When I was in Law Enforcement Skills, I wanted to be one of them. At the time, I'm not sure that Minneapolis had Mounted Patrol, but St. Paul did and I aspired to be one of them. To me, it was the pefect place for me: I wanted to be a cop, and I loved horses and KNEW I could ride.

As it was, it wasn't until after I had left law enforcement that I finally came into contact with the Mounted Patrol, and given the story on the news tonight, I feel I have to write about it.

The story focused on their very necessary crowd control in Downtown at bar close.

Having been there, yes, I agree it's the PERFECT place, and they do a great job! There are a great number of people out there who don't realize the value of horses in crowd control and law enforcement, so I was happy to see this story, the officers, and of course, the well-trained horses that are ready for everything!

My own experience with the Mounted Police was also as a "drunk" (of which I'm still very embarassed!) However, I wasn't causing a fight. I'd left a bar, I was with friends, and in fact, I went TOWARD the officer, introduced myself,and we had a great and coherent conversation while we "talked shop" and I patted the horse.

As my friends and I left, I realized that in walking away from law enforcement, I was also walking away from the other part of that dream I'd held dear for a long time. I had loved the idea of serious law enforcement combined with horses, and of course, the PR that went with it. It was the Farm Girl in the City, and there is more beyond that.

But it wasn't to be.

Although I long mourned my exodus of that dream, I value my experience in law enforcement and am grateful especially to those officers who hold the position I STILL, in some ways, lament.

Tonight in watching the news, I wondered if maybe the Police have a program for volunteers to come in and assist with the horses. Maybe there is and maybe I should look into that. I love horses, I don't have a lot of time, but as they noted, grooming horses is calming, working with horses is calming, and having had THAT experience, well, I miss it and wish I had somewhere to go for that kind of "therapy". As it is, the programs I know about for retired horses and neglected horses are so far out of the way or require a time committment that that simply doesn't work with my schedule.

Hmmm...how did I go from snarky cop stories to lamenting my love for horses?

*

I never said my blog would be organized OR predictable. Just sayin'

*

Cool Light Reflection

A couple weeks ago, I had just gotten up and was feeling very stressed over all the things that were happening. Work, my upcoming "Great Monastic Adventure", etc.

My drapes were still closed as the sun was coming in and I wanted to keep the house as cool as possible.

I think that's also the morning I received an email reply or at least was reviewing it, from one of the communities I wanted to visit. I remember a sudden sense of being overwhelmed and I prayed, "Blessed Mother, what should I do?"

I stood up, turned to go into the kitchen and get my coffee, and caught sight of a bright glare of sunlight that had found its way through the drape.

To my eye at the time, it looked like an angel, and indeed, I know my Guardian Angel is always present. The photos make me think of several versions of Our Lady, though. Our Lady of Grace, Our Mother of Perpetual Help, Mary Queen of Heaven, Queen of the Angels... all of course, are the same person....our dear Blessed Mother.

Because the light was so cool, I grabbed my cheapo disposible camera and thought it couldn't hurt to try to capture the image, although I sincerely thought that the flash would completely destroy it. So I covered it as best I could with my fingers and snapped a few shots. I think one of the two images is actually with full flash, which is amazing, and I think the other is without, with me covering it (as it's automatic), so a little got through.

I've seen the light come through and hit that corner a few times, but it's never before caught my attention like it did on that day. I love how God can use the most mundane things to remind us that He is present and hears our prayers.

I also love it when photos we think don't have a chance of turning out...do!

I believe it was St. Therese of Lisieux who said, "Always take comfort from knowing you are in the presence of the angels."

Indeed.

Real Women Use Charcoal!

This evening I was perusing those blogs I follow, and saw that Rich Leonardi and I share the same sentiment about charcoal...it's the ONLY way to go.

What's more, we agree that gas is for sissies.

I don't own a gas grill. I'm not interested. Sure, it can be convenient, but in reality, the flavor isn't as good.

And when you're dealing with something you ingest, both by necessity and for pleasure, well, why would you EVER go with something substandard?

Personally, I'm sick of being ridiculed by arrogant people who have gas grills. The reality is that they're just plain lazy. Every single gas grill devotee I've ever met has cited "convenience" while looking down their nose at me and decrying the "mess" of charcoal.

When did sackcloth and ashes become unpopular?

Give me my messy time-consuming labor-intensive charcoal any day. At least my steak and chicken taste good.

First Friday of Lent

I've been having really vivid dreams lately, though, and that usually indicates I'm just overly tired. Which is true.  

On Wednesday night, I had a dream I was with some religious sisters, and one was apparently getting ready for her Investitutre (i.e. clothing ceremony).   As we were talking, she was trying on her wimple, which apparently they had made.  The Sister who was assisting turned to me and said, "There is an indulgent granted for those who wear the wimple." 

"Really?"  I asked, surprised.  She went on to explain the indulgence, however, I can't recall what was said. Which is just as well...I'm pretty sure the theology was the usual jumble of dreamland nonsense. 

Last night I dreamed I was with a group headed to Rome. Something happened, and they sent us to France instead, with the intention of bussing us to Rome.  

I think we flew into Versailles, and I remember walking around dark streets, seeing cool works of art. One street in particular stood out to me, and I thought maybe it was one where a movie was filmed. But after some discussion, we realized the statues were all wrong and the movie had been filmed probably in some dark streeet in Paris...which oddly, was also where we were at the time. 

Then we were headed to Madrid, but not without a stop in Venice.  I was so excited to be in Venice, and suddenly we found ourselves in the canals, which were filled with raging waters.  There were gentle swelling waves (but a LOT of them!), and the occasional rapids. As our gondola raced through and around the city, we couldn't believe this was how the Venetians had existed for so long!  Oh, my, it was FUN!   

(as a side note, I'm thankful that the water ISN'T like that in Venice!)

Then, suddenly we found ourselves in some upper room in some building in Venice, because while we were out, apparently someone had drugged me, so my friends brought me to a hospital of some sort. But the doctor wasn't interested in finding out what drug I'd apparently been given, but instead focused on my family's history of any drug use.  He was going to test for THAT instead (even in the abscence of methheads in my family).  I thought him quite odd and suggested he find out what I'd been given.  Nope.  It was more fun to want to run irrelevant tests. 

I think around then, I woke up.  There was a great deal more to the dream, but there's the gist of it.  

No, I've never been to Europe, and I'm quite certain my trip wouldn't be like my dream if I DID go there! 

I am sad that I never made it to Rome, however.  :-(  

Well, it's time for me to clean up and think about heading to the very real place where I spend my life...work.  

This evening it's Stations of the Cross followed by Mass.  Followed by dinner and much studying. 

Stuck in a Snowy Ditch?

ADAM'S ALE: MONDAY DIARY - SNOW KIDDING

Waving people on after they've become stuck in the ditch and you've helped to get them out is one of the most satisfying things imaginable.

Especially when it's your fault they've become stuck in the first place.

Just sayin'.
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** Deep Thoughts by Adoro **

Indoor Plumbing!

The temperature is 12 below (F.) this morning, meaning our windchills around aroud 35 below.

My German Shepherd is getting used to this cold, and only had to stop and lift her paws a couple times for me to clean snow out of them. But she quickly did what she was supposed to do, and as we walked back home, I mused that we should all be happy we get to do our "business" indoors.

Then it hit me; it wasn't always so. I had a friend in high school who lived in a big ol' farmhouse, and they STILL used an outhouse. Even when it was 15 below. Or colder.

Seriously, you people up north here....have you ever stopped to realize that this very simple everyday thing that we do multiple times per day, our predecessors had to go outside to do? In the worst of weather? (Yes, I realize there were things called "chamber pots", but they needed to be emptied, didn't they?)

* shiver *

Thank God for indoor plumbing!

My Spiritual Life

Light of the World

Today in class one of our professors spoke of Pope Paul VI; did you know that Humanae Vitae was the LAST Encyclical he ever wrote? He had ten more years in his papacy, and in all that time, although he wrote other things, none was to the same authority. Evangelii Nuntiandi was an Apostolic Exhortation, not an Encyclical. Our professor pointed out that, in photos, that dear Pope was never smiling.

Humane Vitae cost him dearly; he suffered much as a result for speaking out for life so prophetically. Here we are, 40 years later, having seen and still living (the lucky ones) the fulfillment of his prophecy; ever word he wrote was true. Every word.

Yet when it was published, American theologians got together and dissented. Canadian Bishops issued the Winnipeg Statement. And in Europe, they called councils to rebel as a group against the Truth issued by the Vicar of Christ.

Our professor believed that it cost him so much that "the ink of his pen just dried up."

I can believe it. And history bears it out.

Tonight as I write, the movie "Armageddon" is playing out behind me on the TV. The world is headed for destruction, but those about to die are busy with technology, because, as one character said, in tears, "I have nowhere else to go."

I was suddenly struck with a very deep sadness; she just spoke on behalf of so much of the world, even professed Catholics.

Here we live in a world that denies the value of life, defines freedom by whatever is convenient to "me" and flees the idea of sacrifice. The vast majority of Catholics who claim to be "practicing" have never been taught the most basic tenants of their faith, have never read Humanae Vitae, and don't even know that the Catechism of the Catholic Church is a document that coherently answers the questions they haven't bothered to ask.

We live in a world filled with people who are SUPPOSED to know Christ...but don't.

We live in a world that we have allowed to become so secularized that the moral fibre that used to make up the family has been rendered unrecognizable but for torn remnants here and there. We live in a world where those who should know where to go for hope don't have the foggiest idea that "hope" is a theological virtue, one that opens the door to salvation no matter what one's circumstances or choices.

We live in a world without mercy, for it refuses to acknowledge the only one who can provide them the absolution they seek.

We live in a world that is getting darker by the day, especially here in America, the world's last refuge.

Today, sitting in class, I wondered at what I was doing. I know that all that is necessary is time with Christ. I know that if I had nothing else, I would have Our Lord even for a few moments in an adoration chapel, or in the church, before Him hidden in the tabernacle. So why go to class?

The question was quickly answered; because there aren't very many being educated in the faith. Those of us who are there; we have not just a privilege and a gift, but a responsiblity. Maybe we are supposed to preach formally or form organizations. Maybe we are to become more holy to live an a example for others. Or maybe we are being prepared so as to answer the questions of those who will flee to any corner when the axe finally falls.

I don't know what my call happens to be, but I do know that for some reason, I and my classmates are in the minority. Every parish sees that same minority; of thousands of registered members, only a few hundred are active, and even fewer live a life of true devotion.

We are ALL called to Sainthood. Every. Single. One. of. Us.

We are ALL called to share the Gospel. We are ALL called to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world, following in the footsteps of Jesus, whom we proclaim to follow.

And yet...things are getting worse.

We aren't doing our job. And, if we are...souls aren't responding.

I think that the prayer of Isaiah is being answered...hearts are being hardened, eyes refuse to see, ears refuse to hear.

We are a country, and a world, that has rejected God. He has pulled His blessing from us, and we deserve it. Even we the "faithful" have fallen short and will come under the same judgment.

We shouldn't be surprised. But we should light our candles and carry them out into the world. Yes, people hate us. Get over it. That's nothing new. Get a spine, live a holy life, speak only of Christ, and avoid sin. Remain close to the Sacraments, spend time in Adoration, and prepare for what's coming.

Be lights to the world. Share your faith, even in simple ways. Maybe we live in dark times, but I, for one, have hope. Not hope in this world; the reason for the hope of a Christian has nothing to do with this world, but in Christ who died for many.

If you claim to follow Christ...FOLLOW HIM! If you profess His Name...CONFORM YOURSELF TO HIM, and help others do the same.

It might be hard to be holy and work to become a Saint; but it'll be a darn sight easier than eternity in Hell.

We are responsible not for just what we know...but for whom we lose.

And right now....we're ignoring a lot of lost souls that are too ignorant to cry out.

And it's our own fault.
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