This weekend

It's been one of those get-'er-done weekends.

Friday...Mass, Confession, home...cleaning. Saturday...errands. The decorating bug struck me and so I ran down to Bed Bath and Beyond for my kitchen and bathroom themes. I'm hoping the purchase of these items will goad me into the beginning of painting..finally! I think that if over the next couple pay periods I purchase the needed background items, such as rollers, edgers, etc...the maybe I'll get around to the actual colors and borders I want.

I did my upstairs bathrom in bears. Yup. Bears. Cute, big, mamma bear and her cubs, all in green. Upstairs, therefore, will be green with a bear border if I can find it.

Kitchen / dining will be a combo of "Dinner is Served" and "Pedalling Wine" guys with "wine" accents. My attached townhome dining table has a grape tablecloth, a grape and apple rug, and some southwestern accents because I'm ecclectic and they don't fit anywhere else.

My livingroom is southwestern/mountain lodge ecclecicity, mixed with various Catholic things such as crucifixes, Sacred Heart, L'Innocence, vigil candles, and a Rennaisaince statue of Our Lady flanked by real flowers. And St. Therese of Lisieux with her own corner.

And don't forget about the real dogs hanging out everywhere and as it is shedding season ad infinitum for the Shepherd, then dog-bunnies everywhere and vacuuming every day or whenever I get around to it.

Such is life, but at least with my potpourri burner, it smells like pretty melted wax instead of dog B.O.

And anyway, last night, I went down to pick up my take-out dinner, and I found that I did not have my ATM card. I called the Bed Bath and Beyond at which I went into the red to purchase my household goods, and learned that they had it. Thank God! The woman I spoke with assured me that they waited 48 hours for the owner to claim the cards and then, as a security measure, the company policy is to cut them up.

I assured her I would be there and she assured me she would put a note on the card to notify others that I had called and would pick it up.

Praise God!

So this morning after Mass, I ran home and verified that they were open already. I drove down and the poor cashiers couldn't find the card! They found several others, they checked everywhere and even called the manager with whom I had spoken. She was not available so they left her a message at home.

I prayed to St. Anthony that they would find my ATM card...I was actually beginning to think that someone had given it to someone with a similar name who also didn't realize that my card did not entirely match.

I prayed and I prayed, and finally, the girl said she would check again in the orignal location and pulled literaly everything out of the drawer. I saw notepads, I saw credit cars, ATM cards, etc. Rolls of tape, pens, construction paper, rulers...etc.

Finally, she found a piece of paper wrapped around....my card! It had my name on it and a note that I had called and would be in to pick it up. It hadn't been noticed because it did not look like the other abandoned cards...it had a note on it.

Now, I could comment that cashiers should't be bothered by other cashiers or employees while they finish a transaction as this was what caused my cashier to not hand me my card. I remembered walking out thinking that something was missing.

Or I could admit that I'm the idiot that didn't realize that I had not gotten my card back. I was so excited about my bears and had my head in the clouds dreaming about paint that I didn't realize that my ATM card was not returned with the receipt for the shower curtain.

And I could admit that I was just plain the idiot who didn't realize she was missing her card, period.

Major breach of security. Major. Breach. of . Security.

This morning while they looked, I was reminded of my own likely appearance while I appeared to be incompetant at work, and so I had prayed rather than to give into the temptation to consider the store personnell to be incompetent...although that temptation was strong.

The women there were very apologetic, but clearly very concerned that they had made a HUGE error as a business and lost something HUGE.

At the end, when they found it, they apologized and thanked me for my patience. I wanted to tell them I was not as patient as I appeared, but the relief outweighted all.

After all, I was the idiot who left my card...my finances are NOT their responsibility, they are mine, and that was a near miss.

So, Y'all, I'm not sure how widespread a company is Bed Bath and Beyond" but I will say this; when I was stupid and made an error, they covered it, they protected me by locking up an extremely valuable piece of plastic, and the person I called it in to followed through and put a note on it so that it would not be cut up if I could not get there by the 48 hour mark.

I really need to be more careful, but it's not the store's fault...except for the fact that it's a dangerous place with lots of cool stuff, and as such, and no one should ever go there.

Upcoming Tribute- Sign up now!

On September 11, 2001, great evil befell the United States, and thousands of innocent human beings were ejected into eternity.

On that anniversary date this year, 2006, we are mobilizing to create a memorial for each of the individuals who perished on that day. We will celebrates their lives and honor their memories.

Please read this post and consider signing up. Adopt that person's soul...we as Catholics are called to spiritual works of mercy, and praying for the souls of those in Purgatory is one of those spiritual works.

Thanks to Julie D. at Happy Catholic for the heads-up!

Conversion Story Chapter 1

I didn't have anything controversial to discuss, so I thought I'd just talk about my pre-conversion era. Before one has a true conversion (unless one is St. Therese of Lisieux, or St. Padre Pio, etc.), they must suffer trials and fall away from the true faith.

For you see, my mother is St. Monica (except that her name isn't Monica and she hasn't been canonized...she's still alive, in fact.), and I'm St. Augustine. Except that I'm not a guy, I'm not dead, I'm not a Saint, and my name isn't Augustine, and so by definition I also couldn't carry out all of the acts that he did in his lifetime, but still, you understand what I mean.

In order for you maybe to understand what created me, it is necessary to go back in time.

Mom grew up in a large Catholic farm family--Grandma M. died when she was 5 and Grandpa re-married to Grandma E. and between the adopted siblings, original siblings, and resulting siblings, they numbered 14. Isn't that beautiful?

Anyway, Mom married Dad and they both moved out of their original states. Dad was Lutheran, and so when I was a child, we said, and to this day, say both graces:

"Bless us our Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to recieve, from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, AMEN!. Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, let these gifts to us be blessed. AMEN!"

Dad sometimes went to church with us on Sundays, and sometimes to his own church. On special occasions, he came with us. We didn't like to go to church with him because if we did, we'd have to go to our own church AGAIN, and goodness knows that children can't contain themselves through too much of the same.

Anyway, parents got divorced over things other than religion although I'm sure religion was a part of it, and we moved back to Minnesota to be with Mom's family. We attended a nearby parish, which through the years and apparently God's call, I became involved in music ministry. (That's a different story so I won't get into it now.)

When we started there, we had Father Peichel. He was Polish, he was holy, and we were home. He was known for his generous and loving spirit and his large hands, which were used on behalf of Jesus himself. Sad to say that Fr. Peichal died of cancer and my heart still aches for his loss.

Anyway, we recieved many priests and not long after were assigned one permanently. He is now a well-known dissenting priest who has "retired" and so may God keep him and convert him. In any case, he introduced dissent; he called the "Eucharistic Ministers" up to the altar to circle around behind him during the consecration and they upheld the hosts they had already been given prior to; he had us "lift up our heads and pray for God's blessing" at the end, declaring we had no need to be ashamed before the Lord; he had us say part of the Eucharistic prayers; "Through Him, with Him, and in Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit...".

Most of us knew no different than to do this. I was very involved with the beautiful award-winning parish choir (their award were before my time), and I played flute there and grew as a flautist; I got involved in the youth choir which disintegrated and so I morphed into a cantor, sang, and soloed with the adult choir.

I will say that the parish saved my life as due to various trials during my early teenage years I nearly took my own life. A miracle intervened, and although I was not well formed in the faith, God took an interest in me and He prevented my death. (For another post).

I didn't know it, but I was a dissenting Catholic from a dissenting parish, and there I was Confirmed. I wanted to be Confirmed, but I didn't really understand what it was about. It was like "graduation" and they said there was more to learn but they never presented opportunities for us. Naturally, I fell away, and when I went to college, I stopped going to Mass.

I went to a Catholic college in Minnesota. It was a college run by the Christian Brothers, and for those who don't know, they do not wear a cassock or a habit as it has never been a part of their tradition. They dress in street cloths and so I'll admit I was confused by the term "brother, " for I didn't really realize that they had formally given their lives to Christ. There was no outward sign. While I had no problem with the Brothers and I respected all I had met, I put them on par with my professors and gave them no further thought.

I failed to be a practicing Catholic and began to only attend Mass on occasion and on holidays with my family. I never went to Confession, although I ALWAYS went to receive Jesus in the Holy Eucharist.

Around this time period, I began to cry when I received Communion. It freaked me out so I went to Mass only on holidays and then I was too stressed out to tear up. No one knew my secrets. I was a career-driven woman, and I lived a life of sin. I as not a hellion and I was not a partier...I didn't have time. But I was not the epitome of a Catholic woman.

I went to study in Mexico during the first semester of my Junior year; when I returned, I didn't want to be in the US for my heart had become a missionary heart of sorts and I longed for the place on earth where I had spent the best three months of my life.

Instead, I came back to winter, and people who didn't understand what had happened to me in Mexico and that I was a different person now. Even I didn't realize I was different because of my experience; the culture shock was far worse than I had previously been warned it would be.

Exactly one month after my return to the States, my father, whom I had not seen in nearly 4 years, passed away. The funeral took place on January 6, the day classes were beginning at my college. I returned to school the day after, broken, determined, and fragile in spirit.

One of the classes I had to take was a required class: God and the Human Condition. I actually looked forward to it, hoping, at a Catholic college, to be brought back to my faith. I knew I needed God because I was all alone in my suffering. No one understood me and I could not open up to anyone. Although some people said I could come and talk to them (one of whom was the VP at the College, a wonderful Brother), I could not speak. I needed God.

On the first day of class, the topic was about Genesis and the mythology of the story. There was no "Theology of the Body" involved in this course; it was all about a general itinerary and the prof's opinions.

I did not get what I expected. I did not receive what was needed.

The professor "taught" us that bad things happen to good people because God is not omnipotent. He taught us that God was too busy to deal with everything and couldn't be everywhere at once and it was possible He didn't care. He created us and let us be and helped when He could, but otherwise, we were on our own.

It was actually a test question. I passed the test with flying colors.

In real life, I was distraught. I was shattered. If God didn't care, where could I go? If God wasn't all powerful, what was the point of praying?

I was always on the edge of tears; I was constantly angry and a drive for my career became my idol. I still believed in God, but, to me, His power had been usurped by things beyond His and my control and so I thought I had to rely on myself.

The result was the loss of my faith. A shred of me still believed in God, but I could not follow the faith that would teach such a hopeless doctrine.

It was around this time that God really kicked into action and tried to call me home. I really was searching; my soul was aching for God and although intellectually I rebelled, my soul knew Truth and that I was going the wrong way. On occasion I went to Mass. I remember one in particular, in college, when I attended with two friends. The Communion song was "Here I Am, Lord", and that psalm spoke to me. I had received the Lord although I was not in a state of grace, and once back in the pew, as usual, I could not contain my tears. My friends didn't know what was wrong with me, and neither did I.

(As an aside...yes, I realize it's a theologically terrible song but that didn't change God's ability to use it to get my attention.)

I wandered for years in this state. I was looking for God, and He was holding my hand all along, asking me to listen to Him, not some nut job professor who had to inflict his lack of faith upon others while pretending it was Catholic doctrine. It took me many years to realize that what I was rejecting was really heresy...not God.

Maybe I should end this part of the story here for I have gone on for too long. I know others have been in this place; others have experienced false doctrine while the Lord tried to pull them back or towards Himself.

Believe me; if He can bring me back, He can bring YOU back and I guarantee you; you will find a friend here. No matter where you are on your own path, I want to hear your story. I had to fight my way back to the Truth and I know there are others who have it worse. I know what it's like to feel like no one understands and to feel like no one cares, and I can assure you that no matter who you are, God knows all about it and if you take some time to really listen and be open, you will feel the hand of Jesus holding your own; I realize all the time that in spite of my sin, in spite of my questioning and my dissent, He lead me home and He will lead you home, too, if you let Him.

Sex and the Single Life

I'm going to be totally honest with you. That title, while relevant to the topic at hand, was really just to get your attention.

If you want to know what I think about sex, you can check it out here.

In a few days, I am going to be one year older. I'm not going to give you my age, but suffice to say I am over 30 and we'll leave it at that. I have to admit I'm a little depressed about the whole getting older thing.

A long time ago I thought I would be married like my Mom and have kids, like my Mom. I played with dolls and I talked about how "when I have kids I'll never make them eat vegetables."

Well, not only am I not married, but I'm not a mother (planning to do things in order), and my ideas about parenthood have drastically changed. For example...I WOULD make my kids eat their vegetables or no dessert.

I used to look forward to my next birthday. It meant I was getting bigger, I was getting closer to sitting at the adult tables at large family gatherings, and that I would be taken seriously like my older cousins. Getting older was equated with finding my husband, getting married, and being able to join the discussions with the aunts and uncles and talking about how "he is being promoted with his company, and this will allow us to build the new addition to our house..." etc.

Those days have never arrived, and the older I get, the more I realize that it may never happen. There is a stereotype out there that guys should avoid women in thei 30's who have never been married. There is a stereotype out there that dictates that those of us who don't "put out" or "give it up" are not worthy of a second glance. How could they know to buy the cow without trying out all of her paces.

I, for one, am tired of being compared to a heifer. I am not for sale, I don't have any "wares" and no, you cannot touch without a binding and non-refundable "purchase."

Modern feminism has done nothing but disrupt the moral fabric of society and the scary thing is that too many women my own age have bought into their lies hook, line, and sinker, and this has completely disrupted the natural order of things.

Instead of being respected and pursued for the purpose of marriage, women are objectified and pursued for sex in as many ways and places as possible. Men are not allowed to be men...they are told to be "tolerant" and they are punished if they do not behave in a feminine manner. How ridiculous is this? Not that I encourage men to be cave men, but the reality is that good men need to stand up and be men. We need men to be leaders, we need men to be heads of households rather than weasly, obsequious sidekicks to power hungry feminazis.

But I digress, as usual. You see, I am a woman and that is one of the quirky things about women that will never change...we go off on tangents, we change our minds, and yes, we are emotionally driven more than practically driven.

Ok, that was tangent number two. Now, moving back to the original point...I used to look forward to getting older. Somewhere around 25 or 26, I decided that I was not going to have any more birthdays...I was at a great age. I was healthy, I was fit, I was active in many things and I was able to still stay awake for my night shift, my half-day volunteer work, and if I was off that day, for the rest of the day until a fun night out with the girls. And after a good night's sleep until roughly 10 am, I would be up as though nothing had happened. I knew that would change so I decided not to age.

But age I have...I have the beginnings of crow's feet. I have silvery-gray hair starting in the front, destined to become an Elvira-streak. (Thank God that it seems to be the pretty silver of my grandmother's hair). I am beginning to resemble the rest of my family in shape and texture and line and format...and that is disturbing, and even depressing.

I always thought that by the time I was 30, I would be married, be established in a great career, and own a home complete with a barn, a pasture, and horses.

Well, when I hit 30, I did purchase a townhome, I have 2 dogs, but no husband, no barn, no horses, and no pasture. I can go out and sit in the grass in my "yard", but it's usually too cluttered with the neighbor's daughter's toys for me to pretend for even a moment that I'm in a pasture. That, and the fact that I would not sit down in a pasture. Have you ever experience one? Not real conducive to sitting in contemplation, in reality.

Now, my friends reading this will see this post as it really is...just a bunch of self-indulgent whining, and I plead guilty. But at the same time, those who have been here know what it's like (maybe) and will understand the need to vent a little bit about what I don't have.

I don't mean to say that I'm not blessed...I am very blessed...after all, I own my own home. I have 2 awesome dogs, and I have great friends. I have a good job, and I have excellent credit! In taking a step back, I know I have more than my Mom ever hoped for on my behalf, and I have no right to complain.

But still...today as I knelt in Adoration in the chapel, I could not help but listen to the carefully choreographed wedding taking place in the main sanctuary, and I wondered...will I forever be the solitary woman kneeling in prayer, waiting for her soulmate on the fringe of the endless weddings taking place next door? Am I bound to an eternity of waiting for a spouse who may never materialize, always on the outskirts of those fortunate enough to have found The One?

Or am I completely missing the point?

Progressives and God's Allegience to them

Fascinating article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

They call themselves "spiritual progressives," and they're getting louder and prouder.
Reacting to the successes of the Christian right and reviving the faith-fueled activism that drove 1960s crusades on civil rights and the Vietnam War, more liberals are embracing the language of faith


Again, fascinating. Notice the sentence structure here and the phrases used; "embracing the language of faith." Yes, that is double-speak for "using God's name to pretend we are doing His will while we fleece the gullible."

For decades, left-leaning activists "were so afraid of imposing their beliefs on others that we hadn't claimed a stance," said Carolyn Pressler, a professor at United Theological Seminary in New Brighton. "Suddenly it was the Christian right versus the secular left. We had abdicated."

No more. Nationwide, new books and websites are raising the flag of the religious left. In Minnesota, the trend has been evident in such arenas as the legislative debate over a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage. Evangelicals and Catholics who back a ban faced church activists who argued that godliness was on their side. The chorus of liberal religious voices also has been heard on poverty, immigration and taxes.



The problem here is that the term "left-leaning activists" are NOT religious at all. In fact, they place faith at the bottom of the barrel and push Jesus aside as a decoration for their handbills and litigation referrals. They use "faith" as a type of stamp to seal the daub of paraffin upon the unholy agendas so cited above. These people have nothing to do with God...they are working against His Word and they are doing so deliberately.

In order to be charitable, I will admit that there are some who did not know their faith to begin with and so were easily fleeced in this culture which has suppressed critical thought while prentending to encourage it.

Now, this article is pretty long so I won't bore you all with commentary throughout. Rather, I leave you with this point, well summed up by Steve Sviggum:

Sviggum said lawmakers are unlikely to listen long to anyone who claims God is on their side. "Instead, we should be working to be on God's side," he said.



It has never failed to amaze me that the people who claim God is on their side are usually the ones serving an immoral and diabolical agenda. For example...the pro-abortion woman who attacked me on an internet site in which I was defending life. She told me that she had the armor of God on while demanding that women be able to kill their children at will. The rainbow sashayers who claim God is on their side and that they have a RIGHT to recieve Jesus in moral dissent and mortal sin. And in the cited article, the "progressives" who demand a right that does not exist for it is against the order of nature, which God created.

It is not we who have a claim upon God's allegience...it is God who seeks OUR allegience. God is not the property of anyone; He is not subservient, and He is apolitical. God is our creator, and it is our job to do His will...not the other way around.

The Trinity and the Concept of Democracy

Trinity and Democracy. Those are two words one does not often see together in the same sentence. There is a reason for that.

From what I can tell, God is not a Democrat. Nor is He Republican. Or Grassroots. Or Socialist, and definitely not Communist. (Communism fell in record time...definitely NOT a movement endorsed by the Holy Spirit).

Additionally, from what I can discern from historical and Biblical texts, God never asked the opinion of Creation. Ever.

Folks, this is pretty much a dictatorship, and God's response to those who challenge Him is, "You and what army?". We already know the end of the story, and guess what? God wins.

From the Ignatious Holy Bible; The Gospel According to John;

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things wer made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

On this holy day, we celebrate the Trinity; the Triune God, the concept of all Christianity which defies our definition of reason and demands that we suspend what we know of the world in order to embrace by faith a foundational Truth.

Last summer, I had a crisis of faith; while contemplating the Trininty, I felt my faith fall away from me; after all, who could believe it? Who could understand that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit were one and the same? Who could understand that although they are one and the same, they are of themselves of a different character, yet make up the one True God?

For a few days, I feared my faith was gone; I did not know that I could believe in God, and thus I had to fall upon my own will; I had to learn the hard way that faith is not an act of impassiveness, but an act of the will. It is a gift of God's grace, and yet, without our own will, our own consent, it is impossible to believe.

I revealed this part of my soul to a friend of mine who happens to be Protestant pastor (pray for his return to his childhood faith, please); my friend understood my dilemma, for he'd suffered it himself. Any serious Christian must pass through this test, perhaps repeatedly, in order to understand and come to truly know our Triune God.

Back to my point; I seem to always digress for our faith is so deep that one topic leads into another and into another and so on and so forth. We are so blessed to be Catholic!

What I have learned and observed is that God is not a democracy; He has no interest in the democratic process. He has no interest in money for he created money for our benefit (but He let us think it was our idea).

When God created the world, he did not do so by committee; He did not campaign for votes for the position of God of Creation; He did not project His holy image onto thousands of HD screens and beg for money to support his campaign, nor did He ask that we as his constituents support a particular agenda.

The reality is that God created the world and He created his own adjenda. He did not ask for our opinion; rather, He GAVE us our opinion and demanded that we obey the order he set down upon us and established the reality of consequences for disobedience.

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI) proclaimed, "Truth is not determined by a majority vote", and I have to agree that this is a statement that wil go down in history. The culture around us tries to define "truth" by a popular vote, while they shut out the One who could help them understand.

We don't exist in a vacuum; God sent us his Advocate, the Holy Spirit, through whom He loves us all dearly.

Today we celebrate the reality that God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are one and the same, and He does not need our votes to determine the order of the universe; He does not need us to tell him how to run the world. Try as we might, we cannot redefine Truth to meet our own agenda.

Let us all bow down and humble ourselves before our God and thank Him for creating all on our behalf; for allowing us the freedom to NOT have to vote on the foundations of what makes up our society. He has already determined the order which we all must follow; let us take up, then our individual crosses and follow Him who made us, and depend upon Him to lead us to the ultimate destination....

Allies in the Local Seminary!

We local bloggers can welcome some of our future priests to our haven. Thanks to Clayton at The Weight of Glory for the heads up!

Please check out what the seminarians have to say and spend some time praying for these guys. After all...they are giving up our lives for all of us in imitation of Christ. Doesn't that act deserve some support?

As much bad press as this Archdiocese gets, those of us living here know the reality is that the Holy Spirit is alive and well, and every day we do see the fruits of the Spirit. These gentlemen are the cream of the crop and only the tip of the iceberg.

And now, for something new....

You Are Jean Grey

Although your fate is often unknown, you always seem to survive (even after death). Your mind is your greatest weapon, literally! Powers: telepathy and telekinesis, the ability to project thoughts into the mind of others, communication with animals

Which of the X-Men Are You?

Thanks to Happy Catholic!

SJA "Bible Study"

Now I know where Jack Chick gets his info about what the Catholic Church alleged believes. He must be an SJA parishioner.

Check out the latest internal attack against Truth.

God please help these people! The teacher is teaching not fact, but mythology and things which are patently false, and the misguided souls at SJA are buying into it hook line and sinker. Mostly because it seems to validate what they already believe.

The Catholics are Restless

The Catholics are restless as we await the news of the "big change" in our Archdiocese. For days...nay...weeks, rumors have been circulating, being hashed and rehashed and even an expatriot in LA claims to have inside knowledge of the new coadjutor.

The latest is the claim by KSTP 5 that we are about to have "big changes". I'll admit that I have a gripe here...why, exactly, is the news station most prone to Catholic bashing allowed to bring the big news to us first? Why is a Catholic news service not given the honor?

We are anxiously and with much joyful hope awaiting the "big news". Is this what we have been praying for?


UPDATE!

Leadership changes in the works! There's no news, actually. Anticlimactic. There could be a new coadjutor named by the end of the month. The speculation is Bishop Cupich of Sioux Falls SD or Bishop Aquila, as we've already all speculated. One more speculative option is the current Auxilary Bishop Pates.

The caution being given is that there's no timetable and Archbishop Flynn will retire in 2 years. Again, no news...but the "hoping by the end of June" is news...we, the restless were hoping for NOW!

Keep praying, everyone.

Blasphemy at the Cathedral

I just saw the news, and of course KSTP carried the story. I keep thinking more and more that this station is anti-Catholic because no other stations will touch the stuff KSTP carries. But that's for another post.

Anyway, they showed the infamous Brian McNeill of the Rainbow Sash innocently talking about how they were denied communion again. (PRAISE GOD!) He innocently held up his hands in a "who, me?" posture and conned to the camera that he has NO IDEA what the Church teaches about this. Apparently an usher caught someone breaking up the host and handing it out to those who had been denied. The usher confiscated what was left of the Body of Christ and detained the offenders, threatening that he would call the police.

Apparently the police were never called, and McNeill was left in front of KSTP's anti-Catholic camera mugging that as far as he knows, "not consuming" the Eucharist is not against the law.

Well, it may not be against secular law, but I would like to refer him and all his ilk to Canon Law which clearly explaines why they are being denied Communion and that in fact, it IS against Canon law to not consume the consecrated host:

TITLE IV: THE SACRAMENT OF PENANCE
Can. 959 In the sacrament of penance the faithful who confess their sins to a lawful minister, are sorry for those sins and have a purpose of amendment, receive from God, through the absolution given by that minister, forgiveness of sins they have committed after baptism, and at the same time they are reconciled with the Church, which by sinning they wounded.

Can. 915 Those upon whom the penalty of excommunication or interdict has been imposed or declared, and others who obstinately persist in manifest grave sin, are not to be admitted to holy communion.

Sound like anyone? The rainbow sash, anyone? Mr. Brian McNeill, are you getting all this down? Anyone who wears the rainbow sash is promulgating the practice of manifest grave sin, and in that act, they are themselves persisting in manifest grave sin. This is the reason for denial of Communion.

Can. 916 Anyone who is conscious of grave sin may not celebrate Mass or receive the Body of the Lord without previously having been to sacramental confession, unless there is a grave reason and there is no opportunity to confess; in this case the person is to remember the obligation to make an act of perfect contrition, which includes the resolve to go to confession as soon as possible.

The only defense these yahoos have is that they don't know that they are in mortal sin. However, since they've been told that homosexual BEHAVIOR, or ACTING OUT their same-sex proclivities is in fact, grave sin, that just blows their "I'm ignorant" defense out of the water.


Can. 935 It is not lawful for anyone to keep the blessed Eucharist in personal custody or to carry it around, unless there is an urgent pastoral need and the prescriptions of the diocesan Bishop are observed

Clearly, if someone was breaking up the consecrated Eucharist and was passing it around, that person carried the blessed Eucharist around, and thus that person is in violation of Canon 935.

If you would like to read the Code of Canon Law for yourself, it can be found here and here.

It seems these people can't get a clue if they even have to swallow it.

I probably have to go to Confession before I recieve the Eucharist again. Please pray for me. I'm experiencing one of the seven deadly sins...Anger; and I may have crossed the line from righteous anger in defense of my Lord. Even if my words don't betray my inner turmoil, I may have sinned.

God help us defend His Church from the ignorance and attacks from within.


*****
UPDATE! 6/6/06 Tuesday A faithful (to the Lord) reader sent me the following link to the sashayer's description of the whole thing. May the Lord have mercy on the souls of those who so trample upon the beloved body and blood of Jesus Christ.

Prayers of Guidance, Repentance, Reparation and Forgiveness

To the Holy Spirit (on this blessed Pentecost)

Breathe into me, oh Holy Spirit,
So that my thoughts may be holy;
Move me, oh Holy Spirit
So that my actions may be holy;
Attract me, oh Holy Spirit,
so that I love what is holy;
Strengthen me, oh Holy Spirit,
so that I defend what is holy;
Protect me, oh Holy Spirit,
so that I will never lose what is holy

*

PRAYER BEFORE CHRIST ON THE CROSS
Forgiving Enemies

O my Jesus, I forgive my enemies for love of You. I forgive them because I have more gravely offended You than they have offended me. My Jesus, make me love You more and love myself less. Teach me to dominate my rebellious nature and to crucify my passions.

Teach me to practice humility, vigilance and prayer, so that in and by You, may I be fortified in obedience to Your holy law.

*

PRAYERS OF THE ANGEL
the following prayers were taught to the children of Fatima by the angel who appeared to them

My God, I believe, I adore, I hope and I love you. Pardon those who do not believe, do not adore, do not hope in, and do not love you.

Most Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I humbly adore you, offer you the most precious body, blood, soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ present in all the tabernacles of the world, in reparation for the outrages with which he himself is offended. Through the infinite merits of his most Sacred Heart and the intercession of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, obtain the conversion of sinners.

AMEN

"DIGNITY" and Rainbow Sash

Always a big topic on Pentecost Sunday. I encourage you to go to DIGNITY's website and check out their disordered thought. Especially disturbing is the incident at St. Thomas that apparently happened earlier this year. The good thing is that their old buddies at KSTP are apparently tired of listening to them whine about not getting their way.

Thanks to Ray for the info he found on DIGNITY's website about the upcoming events at the Cathedral this weekend. I encourage you to read their plans in their entirety, but just to give an example of their disordered thought about what they are doing.....

The Rainbow Sash is a symbol of celebration reserved for liturgical events, not a political banner. Nevertheless, all liturgies take place in a political context. In 2006 Archbishop Flynn has helped create a political context where same-sex families, including those with children, are being made permanent second class citizens. He is saying "back of the bus" to all glbt people in Minnesota, not just Catholics. We need to be present in the Cathedral on June 4 to remind him once again, that our glbt sexuality is a gift from God, which we proudly celebrate on Pentecost.


1. If the rainbow sash is a symbol of celebration, then it does not belong at Mass. If they want to have a "liturgical event" they can find a religion that fits their beliefs. (UCC and some dissident Methodist churches come to mind). In those churches, Jesus Christ is not present, body, blood, soul, and divinity as he is in the Catholic Mass, which is NOT a "liturgical event". Mass is a Divine Liturgy in which the sacrifice at Calvary is made present.

From here on out, let us refer to the Rainbow Sash Alliance and DIGNITY as"Roman Soldiers." Remember, that some of the Roman Soldiers did convert and we can pray that happens here in the Twin Cities and all over the nation.

2. The Divine Liturgy, or Mass, is apolitical. That means there are no political components as it is solely for WORSHIP. The fact that these people see this as a "political event" displays flagrantly the fact that at their core, they are moral relativists. They believe that everything can be bought, discussed, or changed by a vote. Jesus Christ did not come to earth to have his WORD changed by a vote.

3. Archbishop Flynn has not ordered ANYONE to the "back of the bus". Period. Let's talk about discrimination. The homosexual activist community is not experiencing segregation and discrimination. They are trying to run under a standard which is not their own and has NEVER belonged to them, and this is harmful to the memory of the atrocity of discriminated peoples throughout history. What the "Roman Soldiers" are being told is that if they want to recieve Jesus they must be in a state of Grace; that means Confession, true repentance, and honest intent to change one's life. They must honestly not want to encourage anyone else's sin. By wearing the rainbow sash they are proclaiming their sin and support of sin loudly and profanely and in doing so, are disrupting the prayer and worship of the larger community in order to force us to bend over and accept their demands. This differs greatly from the actual discrimination suffered by African Americans in our history, and the Jews in Nazi Europe, and it demeans the suffering and losses of those people.

In other words, they are attacking Catholic teaching at the most HOLY moment possible.

4. "GLBT sexuality" is a gift from God inasmuch as it is a cross to bear. We all have crosses to bear in our lifetimes and I'll admit those surrounding our sexual desires are likely the most difficult. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the reward. I hope and pray that these activists will be touched by the Holy Spirit and converted so that they may understand how they can accept and embrace their crosses instead of trying to crush the faithful with them.

Folks, as Jesus was crucified by Roman Soldiers, we will truly witness this again as a re-enactment at Mass tomorrow. While Jesus is made present by the power of the Holy Spirit, these people will be standing, and in effect, taunting our Lord. It hurts us all when they do this.

I ask that wherever you are, you begin a prayer vigil at 11:30 am tomorrow and lasting until at least 1:00 pm. I realize that this is a long period of time and we all have demands on that time. But we can all say extra prayers, we can offer up our sufferings and joys during that time period, and we can offer Masses and adoration hours throughout the weekend. Let our intention be the conversion of EVERY SINGLE person who wears the sash, supports the sash, and lives the active homosexual lifestyle. Let us also offer prayers for those with Same Sex Attraction who are living a celibate life and trying to follow God's will in their lives.

Let's continually ask God to convert the Roman Soldiers.

Sex and Marriage are Sacred

When I was a little girl, one of my friends (or her sister) experienced puberty at a very young age. Well, apparently the parents talked and as my friend, in my class, was asking questions, the parents agreed it might be time to have "that conversation". Mom sat me down with a book which she held on her lap, closed, and I was excited because I ascertained (correctly) that I was getting the "birds and the bees" speech.

I was very disappointed to learn that cute birds and stinging bees had nothing to do with it. I was further dismayed to learn what was going to happen to me when I got older, and even further dismayed to find out that the conversation was quite boring, in fact. No real mystery. I already knew that boys and girls were different and due to playing doctor with another boy when I was four, I knew the rudimentary idea about sex and what was supposed to happen, although I had no real idea WHY. Nor did I really care.

Well, Mom explained to me very carefully that sex was a sacred act between a MARRIED man and woman, and should ONLY be shared with that one special person, and never, never, NEVER anyone else. Ever. Just that one, and it was private, it was to be done behind closed doors and it was not proper to talk about it in public. It was not proper to show those soon-to-develop parts in public, it was not proper to flaunt it.

And you know what stayed with me? Sex is sacred. Sex is private. Sex is to be shared with that ONE person with whom I choose to spend my life, within the SACRAMENT of MARRIAGE. Even when I wasn't living the life Mom hoped I would live, her lessons remined with me, God's grace passed on through a mother's loving words.

Mom taught me that sex was not a toy and to use it as such was demeaning and was a very grave offense against God, who created sex. Of course, my Mom was being VERY proper and she actually used the word "intercourse" throughout her speech, and that sterile term did make it seem quite boring and uninteresting, and I'll admit, even somewhat gross. But then again, I was maybe 7 years old, so that reaction would be proper.

I walked away from that meeting more disturbed by the thought of a monthly period as opposed to what Mom and Dad might be doing in their room. She managed to convey this wonderful gift from God and yet, she maintained my innocence about the whole thing. She did not draw attention to herself or Dad and force me to face the sexuality in their lives. She did not force me to know what they do behind closed doors, but rather, she made me to understand that my brother and I were the result of a very special, SACRED act, and we were to maintain that understanding of sacredness to pass on to our own children.

Do you think a homosexual couple would be able to do what my Mom did? No. Why? Because the very definition of their relationship excludes God and excludes innocence.

Now fast forward 25 years. Sex is everywhere, and everyone is talking about it. We can't get away from it. Sex is used to sell nearly everything under the sun, and even the sun itself. It's for sale in various newspapers in transparent personal ads in free publications--locally, the City Pages. It's for sale legally in Nevada, and illegally everywhere else, yet right out on very street corners. Sex is the center of nearly every television program and the topic of every secular talk show.

People are making good money from sex, and it just gets more depraved from there. The want of sex leads to the not wanting "consequences", and so contraception was made available and is actually PUSHED at the doctor's office. As a result of the loss of the sacred, children are no longer seen as a gift, and so they are brutally murdered in the womb.

And now we have the issue of homosexual marriage. The very idea! And what amazes me is that the proponents of this idea, which of course found its roots among practicing homosexuals, have been so vocal and in our faces about it. Yet they complain that anyone who disagrees with them is a bigot. We are judgmental. We are horrible people and we don't know Jesus.

Excuse me? There is truth in what they say, but only if they are saying it to an image of themselves reflected in a mirror. We as Catholics and other "right wing" Christians who oppose this immoral, diabolical agenda are only living our lives and proclaiming the truth as it has been handed down prior to the dawn of Christianity. We are being accused of being judgmental only for living our lives as our mothers and fathers taught us.

We have a real crisis on our hands, brothers and sisters in Christ. And it starts with the very definition of a person and who we are and why we are here. What a loaded topic. Let me explain it this way; I am a child of God. Mom explained this to me very clearly as I am the product of a very sacred love between her and Dad, and because God intervened in their sacred union, I was born, and I and my brother are both miracle babies. (Mom was told she could never have children). So I learned to define myself as a PERSON, a person loved by God, a sister, a daughter, and maybe someday a mother.

Yet, to show the juxtaposition, we have a whole community of people who do not have this basic understanding of their dignity as human beings. They somehow took a wrong turn, or were fed some rhetoric or abuse, and somehow they were diverted and now define themselves not by the sacred union that created them (for we can no longer assume someone is not a product of a petrie dish), but rather, by an immoral sexual act. They define themselves by their genitalia and what they prefer to do with it. And evenworse, their preferences are not kept behind closed doors, but proclaimed loudly for all to hear. If their acts were kept private, none of us would know about it, and therefore, we would have no reason to object or even question.

Guess what? What people do behind closed doors is NONE OF MY BUSINESS! I'd prefer to keep it that way, thank you. But our culture has taken the brazen idea that all must be made public. All must be shown, all must be flaunted, and especially if it's deviant, it must be forced upon people so that they are desensitized and thus come to accept it as "natural". And so since it is being proclaimed, then we have a RIGHT to speak out, we have a RIGHT to pass judgment upon the acts and the consequences, and darn it, we will use our voices and our votes and our prayers to proclaim the TRUTH!

There is NOTHING natural about homosexual sex, and there is NOTHING SACRED about it. The very act of homosexual unions is a very violent stripping of the dignity of the souls of the parties involved. It is SPIRITUAL DEATH. It is a very GRAVE SIN. Period. Nothing more, nothing less. For that matter, and just to be clear and fair, any sexual act outside of marriage is a MORTAL SIN, and no, Vatican II did not change that fact. Sin is as it always was, and salvation comes only with true repentance and keeping God's word.

If homosexual "marriage" is made legal, children will not be able to maintain their innocence. It's a struggle as it is these days, and God bless parents who try their darndest to raise their children out of the sight of the lurid decadence of our society. Yet the ante is being upped yet again and because rabid homosexuals and other people with disordered agendas are forcing society to see their sexual acts (both homo- and heterosexual), as opposed to their dignity as children of God. They are forcing society to accept disordered behavior which shouldn't even be KNOWN to ANYONE, much less practiced! How can children of a homosexual couple be raised with the same innocence as I when they are going to be confronted on a daily basis and thuse learn to define themselves by the debased sexual, not the Sacred as God intended?

Every child is sacred in the eyes of God, even those who are given life in a petrie dish. Every child has a soul. Every child deserves to understand that God loves them and that the genitalia He grants them is not to be misused to fight an agenda for Satan.

Every person is sacred in God's eyes, and He requires all of us to live in chastity, if not celibacy.

Now, before I get flamed, keep in mind that I am single, I must also live in chastity and as I am unmarried, I must practice celibacy. Sure, I CAN get married, but to whom? As I get older, the prospects are growing less and less hopeful, and perhaps that's just as well. Do you understand what that means, those of you who worship sex and not God? Do you understand that I must maintain celibacy for the REST OF MY LIFE if I do not marry?

So how does that make me any different from someone who is attracted to the same sex? We are the same. I am no angel, and I have a checkered past, so don't go thinking I have not experienced life. We are the same, we are called to the same thing and we both carry the same cross.

So to my brothers and sisters in Christ, don't let this culture put down your faith and your beliefs. Speak up and speak out against this atrocity of homosexuality, and speak out against pornography, prostitution, promiscuity, and every sin against the human person. Sex is Sacred, and misuse of the Sacred does nothing other than to demean the souls to whom the gift was originally intended.

I am highly offended by the flagrant homosexuality practiced in my locale. I am offended because I am not allowed to speak against this without fear of retribution. I am offended because my religious beliefs are being trampled beneath propaganda and moral relativism, which is, at its core, immoral and diabolical. I am offended because the future of America hangs in the balance and even the last shreds of innocence of our youth is about to go up in forced, violent rainbow-colored flames. And you know what? We have a RIGHT and a DUTY to be offended by this flagrant disregard and disrespect of the morality set down upon this earth by GOD HIMSELF and I will NOT sit here and be complacent!

We all have a duty to speak out, and we all have a Constitutional right to condemn this behavior- that is, until the activist judges reinterpret that the First Amendment applies only to those in agreement with popular trends.

God bless and protect you all. You are all children of God, no matter who and where you are in life, and I pray that one day, everyone on earth recieves the grace, and thus the clarity, to understand this truth.

Vacation's End

It is with a heavy heart I return to work tomorrow morning.

Yep. I've been on vacation all week, and you know what I did? A whole bunch a' nuthin'! It was GREAT! I relaxed, I slept in (usually until 7 am), I stayed up late (1:00 am was the latest one night), I putzed around, I hung out with some friends on the weekend nights, and in general, I had a good time.

But tomorrow I go back to work, and with that, I pay for this week. The work that wasn't done when I left has compounded and I will no doubt come back to many many voice mails from people asking why I haven't returned their calls, when my greeting clearly states in both English and Spanish that I am out of the office and to call X at X number until the Tuesday after Memorial Day. Tomorrow is a day to return all those voice mails and complete damage control with unhappy customers who can't be bothered to actually LISTEN to both my warnings before I left and my greeting while I was gone.

No doubt that we will also have a very busy day with new assignments as Memorial Day weekend usually brings out the worst in people and crime victims and fraud mongers will be pounding down my door begging for help YESTERDAY and demanding service NOW in spite of the fact that I can't possibly do everything in one day, or even in one week.

That's what I hate about vacations. Coming back. And since this is our busy season, it is not going to get better any time soon. Such is life.

But on the up side, I had my hair cut and hilighted over my days off and it is much shorter and the highlights are much redder! Yay!

I've been considering again a return to school. Perhaps the wisest course would be to obtain a Master's in Instruction, and then maybe I could become a teacher. I'd like to teach religion, but for that, I think I'd need more formal education in theology, and I know I can't swing both when I can't even truly entertain the idea of one.

What I need is a huge miracle which will enable me to pay my mortgage, the vet bills, the student loans, the car, and then tuition, and allow me to quit my job to focus on better things.

Or maybe Prince Charming will enter the scene and we'll get married and he'll pay the bills and walk the dogs so I can go back to school.

Yeah, right.

I don't wanna go back to work. Who DOESN'T feel this way on the last day of vacation?

To Veil or Not to Veil

I have intended to blog about this topic prior to this, but just never got around to it. I've found that the timing with everything has to be right, and often, my timing is not. But tonight, it's time. I happened over to WardWideWeb and there I found a GREAT explanation as to the correct reason for choosing to wear a mantilla.

Somewhere around a year or so ago, I noticed several people in my parish veiling. The headcoverings varied from hats to scarves to lace mantillas, the latter of which were sold in the church gift shop. (Yes, my parish has a gift shop. It's a Catholic mega-church and in spite of myself, I love it). Anyway, as could be predicted, the mantillas and other headcoverings were more prolific in the three daily Masses than in the Sunday liturgies, but just the same, I began to sense a call to cover my head.

I purchased a black lace mantilla and I'll admit the first time I wore it I was a bit self-conscious, but in time, that feeling went away. I still wear my veil at Mass and in the Adoration Chapel to remind me that I am in a holy place and the lace on my peripheral reminds me to direct my worship to the Lord and away from the random thoughts which plague me at the worst possible time.

I also have a white lace mantilla which is worn on the more special occasions.

Of late, though, as I've gone though a rather intense period of dryness, I have questioned my wearing the veil. Am I doing so for the right reasons? Am I trying to appear to be more holy?

I will tell you the reasons I began to veil, but in order for you to really understand, you need a summary of my history. While I was in high school,I began to cultivate a feminist attitude. This attitude became a chip on my shoulder during college as I studied for Law Enforcement. I later became a firefighter, and I fear some of the feminity I held was in danger of being lost among the androgynous culture perpetuated by the lesbian lobby. (that's a whole different story).

I still joke around that my friends in college thought I was just another guy. I actually was dismayed to learn only a couple of years ago that some of the guys took bets that I might actually be a lesbian!

Anyway, I had fallen away from my faith and continued to be away for many years. It took a long time to come back, and this is something I did with a HUGE dose of God's grace and a lot of study.

Finally, I reverted to the faith of my childhood, and it seems it was permanent, and maybe something in me was seeking an outward sign. And outward committment to somthing I had internally realized. When I saw others wearing the veil, I understood, finally, what was missing. I had not realized my modesty, nor had I ever really accepted my feminity in the way other woman had. Now, I am not a "girly-girl", and truth be told, I never have been. That tomboyishness remains around and within me, but believe you me, I am feminine through and through. But something happens when I enter God's house; I understand that I am a woman; and perhaps someday I will be the woman He created me to be. I am a woman in His image and everywhere, I see His mother upheld as an example of femininity. She is veiled. She always points the way to Jesus and in doing so, she is a leader among all women, as well as men.

I heard the call to imitate Our Lady and I have found, through wearing the veil, that no matter what I am outside of Mass, when I arrive to worship, I am a woman of God, and nothing else matters. The veil is a sign of modesty and submission to God. It is a reminder of the holiness of our location, and I do need this reminder at times.

Allow me to explain.

I may not be a girly-girl, but I am ALL ABOUT my hair. Yup. God blessed me with good hair and I've heard about it all my life. And even though I am in my 30's, I'm still playing with it. I love to color it and go from one color to another drastically. For example...red to jet black. And the cool thing is that these colors look GOOD on me. Last fall I actually had my hair colored professionally for the first time in my life, and I got hilights. What did I do? I had her color my hair jet black with unnaturally red streaks. It was not neon, but close. Now, I am a sensible woman, and so we went conservative so the look was appealing. The red faded to a nice auburn for which I recieved many compliments.

Just this week I had it colored again, and cut, and guess what? More red this time. Less conservative. And when the sun hits my hair, I KNOW that it glows. I love this.

You may be asking what my point is, and some of you may already undestand. I am vain of my hair. Yup. My hair is my best feature and I like to show it off. But a line has to be drawn, and I do so at Mass. I don't go to Mass to look good or recieve compliments. I go to worship God. He already knows all about my hair, and my veiling it for Him is a form of modesty. It's a small way of my saying to Him, "Ok, this is not about me, but all about YOU, and so I will cover myself so that I become smaller and YOU absorb all the attention which is so rightfully due to you."

I was thinking recently of not veiling anymore. The "craze" seems to have died down and some who used to veil do not anymore. I have gone to Mass a couple times without it, and although I felt somewhat naked, it was OK.

Then a point was brought home to me. I went to my regular adoration hour a few weeks ago, and did not wear my veil. Now, during my hour, I like to sit up close to Jesus, so I am in front of other people. That's not usually an issue, for everyone has their favored places in the chapel, and those places rarely overlap.

Well, one day, a gentleman who has the hour before me stayed late. I remember that he left after I arrived, but for some reason returned and apparently stayed awhile. As he was leaving the second time he came forward and knelt near the front pew, directly in front of the Blessed Sacrament. I was not distracted and paid him little mind.

Then he leaned over as he stood, and said to me, "Boy, kid, you sure do have pretty hair!"

He finished his goodbyes to Jesus and went on his way.

There I sat, veil-less, wearing a pony-tail, realizing that had I worn my veil as usual, this man would not have felt the need to compliment me. I was not there to be complimented. And what's worse, I feel that my hair actually distracted this man enough to divert him from his own prayer. Now, is that my problem? No, it is not. We all have distractions but the reality is that I have taken pains for my hair to be noticed in certain times, and this incident reminded me that thus, I have a certain obligation to NOT be a distraction to others.

Y'all, I'm no beauty queen. I'm not Rapunzel, but I am a woman with bright red streaks and let's face it...that does tend to garner attention. And during Mass or Adoration, that is NOT the time to garner anyone's attention. So I veil.

Some may argue that's the wrong reason, but in my heart, I have come to understand that it's the right thing to do. I will not lobby for all to wear the veil, for I don't think that's necessary. It would just be seen as another law, and some would resent it.

I would like to see more formal education on the topic. Last summer I was accused of being disobedient to the Magesterium for wearing the mantilla, and my explanations (Including history of it) fell upon deaf ears. She referred to my mantialla as a "doily". I had to remimnd her that it is blessed and is therefore, a sacramental. She accused me of being disobdient because the American Bishops have not spoken on the subject, either yay or nay.

(As an aside; I found her argument preposterous, and it was only with great restraint that I prohibited myself from pointing out the fact that the American Bishops also have not spoken out on her personal devotion to praying in the ORANS position during Mass and singing in tongues at charismatic Masses and otherwise in public....but that's another story).

The reality is this; wearing the veil is a personal devotion. God may speak to us all in different ways, and maybe some of us need the equivalent of blinders used on horses to keep our attention forward. I do not want anyone to see me as other than a sinner in need of correction, for ultimately, that is why I veil. There are many acceptable reasons to veil, and they may vary from person to person. For myself, it's my vanity and a certain reminder that I am a woman after Mary's own heart, and God has willed it this way. He has willed that I be a Catholic woman, to follow in her footsteps and point the way to Jesus for others. I don't have to be a religious sister for this; I need only recognize that as a woman, I have a duty in God's service, as do we all.

We do not cover our heads out of submission to men. I abhor the thought! We do not cover our heads to stand out or seem more holy than others. We cover our heads out of respect for the Lord who is present.

If we as women go to visit the Pope, we are to veil ourselves. How much greater is Jesus than his Vicar? Isn't the decision to veil, then, in the presence of Christ obvious?

Is there any more to be said? (or as usual, have I been too-long winded?)

God bless you all, as always.

Thank God for Nurses!

Over the last couple days, I have been progressively losing the hearing in my left ear. Today I went to work with a loss of equilibrium, most likely psychosomatic, due to this condition. I had tried the home remedies, and had to concede failure...it was time to go to the doctor. I hate going to the doctor. And usually, I can avoid the experience, but this time...not so much.

So I called and made an appointment with anyone because I was desperate. I would have been happy to see the janitor, but they did find me an appointment with a doctor at the clinic.

I was led to an examination room by a nursing student, and she was very nice. Very motherly, and very capable. She was empathetic, and still businesslike. I have no doubt she will graduate with honors.

She left and the doctor came in and we spoke for literally twenty seconds. No doubt the insurance company will be billed for over $100.00 for his time.

He asked me what I was there for, so I told him I couldn't hear out of my left ear, it was plugged. He asked me what I was reading (I had a book- Sophia House), and I told him the short description, "It's about a guy who harbors a Jewish boy during the Nazi occupation of Poland," and he introduced himself. Of course I couldn't hear him and I had to ask him to repeat. His introduction was totally out of the order of the usual script. I was at a loss. Usually the introduction comes BEFORE the icebreaking question about the book.

I felt like an idiot. I wish someone had given me this doctor's script for if they had, I could have responded appropriately to his introduction.

Anyway, he confirmed the ear canal was blocked. He told me matter-of-factly that I needed an ear wash.

Ok

He asked me if I'd ever had a punctured ear drum? No. Or ear surgery of any kind? No.

"Then you can have one!" the doctor proclaimed, as though he were passing his affirmative judgment with regard to having a lollipop after confirming I'd already eaten my vegetables. I was amused.

He shook my hand (that usually comes with the intro), told me he was sending in a nurse, and left.

Tell me again...why does our culture revere doctors so much? I just don't get it.

On the other hand, another nurse comes in, and tells me that this ear problem is striking many people, and I am not the first person this week with no prior history of such a problem. Ever. She does her job efficiently, and effectively, and the next thing I know, I can hear her speak by using BOTH of my ears!

Praise God! I was very thankful and thanked her lavishly for her help. She of course laughed....I'm sure she has recieved this response from other people with temporary and uncomfortable deafness.

And my other nurse story (sorry, I don't have many as I have not often been sick). A few years ago I needed surgery. I remember waking from the anesthesia with the strange thought that everything was orange...the special heat blanket which was over me, the iv fluid, the curtains, the floor, the nurses' uniforms...all orange. I had not opened my eyes yet and so I have no explanation for this. No, the oxygen I was recieving was not scented. I actually considered this in my loopy state and made a special mental note that the air, while orange, was not scented at all.

As I awoke, I could hear a nurse moving around...she removed the IV and the oxygen, and after a few minutes, she asked me how I was. With much grog and little voice, I told her, "thirsty".

And I was . Very, very thirsty. And getting kind of tired of the orange which wasn't really there.

She left, and for a moment, I feared she had abandoned me, but thenk I figured I could just go back to sleep. Then she was back and she was giving me ice chips.

I decided in that moment that this merciful savior of a woman was the BEST PERSON *EVER* and I have loved her dearly ever since.

The poor dear even had to help me dress, but was respectful enough not to laugh after I first refused her help and then had to sheepishly ask for it.

I have decided that I will forever love and be grateful to nurses. They do the most work and they get the least credit. They are hardworking, intelligent, and if not for them, I have to admit I'd probably still be miserable.

So I ask you...have you hugged your nurse today, and thanked God for him or her? Now, don't go around randomly hugging nurses...that might freak them out, and rightly so, but don't forget to thank them and don't forget to keep all nurses on your permanent prayer list!

As always, God bless!

Code Red

When I was a kid, we used to watch a tv show called "Code Red". It ran from 1981-1982 and then never returned. I'm sure it was a terribly hokey show, but I loved it and so did my sibling.

In looking back, I have to wonder if the female firefighter on the show was the spark that caused me to puruse the same career 25 years later. I remember running around the house in an "Emergency!" fire helmet, and was so in love with the actors on Code Red that I tore the "Emergency!" sticker off of my red fire hat. But since I could not figure out how to place the Code Red! Logo on my hat, I ran around sporting a partially torn logo. I used to pretend to be the female firefighter, although to this day I don't remember her name--either her real one or her character's. But I loved Ted, and I tried to name my stuffed toys after him.

I'm sad, today. Why? Because even TVLand has not replayed the show. I've done internet searches so I know there's some kind of a following out there. I wish they would download to DVD and put us out of our misery. Even if it was hokey, we liked the show and it may have had some kind of dubious (although good) influence on my life.

Now, I liked and still like Emergency!, but that show's actors weren't nearly as cute as the Code Red guys.

So! Does anyone know any way we can force the industry to make a DVD of the old Code Red shows??? I guarantee one purchase right here, and I'm betting there'll be more.

If not, would anyone consider going to www.tvland.com and find the request section and write in Code Red? A lot of people will thank you for entering your vote, even if you don't intend to ever watch the show.

For the Love of Saddam...could a soul be lost?

I met someone who may be classified as a political enemy, and maybe even a spiritual enemy. This morning at work, I had to call an individual, and rather than handling business over the phone, as he was nearby, he asked to come in and handle things in person. I made sure a conference room was available, called him back and set the appointment.

Something told me (my Guardian Angel, maybe?) told me to pray before this meeting. Something told me that something was wrong and that I needed protection, so I offered some prayers as I prepared for the meeting, and when I went forward to meet the gentleman, I was collected, professional, and apparently, protected.

I greeted him with a handshake, as is typical here in America, and showed him to the conference room just off of the waiting area. He chose his seat and I sat across from him and described the format for our meeting. He verbally expressed openness and seemed eager to get things taken care of. I apologized in advance for some questions I had to ask of him and assured him that it was formatted and I intended no offense. He understood and we were off to a good start. The man was clearly intelligent and well spoken. We were respectful of each other. All in all, it was a successful meeting.

You may be asking what was so odd about this that I had to post about it? What is so strange about the above conversation that took place?

Because beneath the veneer, I learned who this man really is, and I learned that technically, he is our enemy. That's a pretty harsh statement, and it begs an explanation. So I'll tell you.

This man's car was stolen, and it was partially his fault for he left the keys for his high-end vehicle and some thieves hopped in and helped themselves. The man is a victim of a crime; he lost his property, and possibly even his identity. He had a right to be angry. He lost personal documents that can be used to fabricate fraudulent accounts and he is aware that he will suffer the consequences of this for years to come. Again, he has a right to be angry. I sympathized with him.

After our formal business today, the man continued to vent, and I only wish that this was recorded. He expressed his anger with profanity, and during this, he expressed his anti-American sentiments. He is from Iraq, I learned, and he has been in the U.S. for over 25 years...he is a citizen, and has raised and is still raising a family here.

I realized somewhere early on that his life priorites were a bit confused when he stated he will never touch his car again because it has been violated. He ridiculously described that it is like his car has been raped. He compared this to his 5 wives...the man told me, (mind you, I'm a woman), that is is as though another man touches his wife, he no longer wants his wife...and this is why he has had five wives.

It was difficult, but I was actually able to keep my mouth shut. I'm sure my Guardian Angel had his hand flat against my mouth, for I'm not sure I could have remained silent without God's grace. To compare a car theft to rape??? How that undermines the crime of rape. How his expressions and reasons for abaondoning his wives spoke of his own double-standard, his own usage of a woman for his own personal agenda. She is used goods, she is impure...then what is he???

But I digress.

It gets worse.

The man stated that everything is wrong in America. He blames America for all the wrongs in his life, and all the while, he bragged about his $700,000+ home, his high-end cars, and even though he was driving one of them, he complained that his insurance company would not pay directly for a rental while they complete the business end of his claim. The man is not destitute, far from it, and yet he complained he was being victimized again...over a situation which was not precarious. I've never seen less of a victim in my life than this man, and yet, he played the victim card as I'd never seen it played.

But this was not the problem. I have seen this before. (As an aside...I've noticed that those in the most destitute consitions tend to be far more accepting of them and prepared to survive in spite of adversity...while this man, with the high end cars he simply did not want to drive as it's not June yet, whined and pleaded and vented as though he was being murdered.)

Murder. There's an interesting word. That's the word that defined this man's true values. He wanted to murder the men who stole his car, because in "his country" (Iraq, that is), under Saddam Hussein, the penalty for theft is death. The penalty for many things was death, and this man was angry that he could not simply kill the people who cause this trouble.

Now, do not argue that this man was only venting. I've heard much of the same before, but you were not present to look into his eyes and hear his heartfelt justifications; you were not there to realize that he was entirely serious and if it were legal, he would not have a problem with carrying out the deaths of anyone who offended his sensibilities.

He justified this by his country; in Iraq it was legal, and in his estimation, Saddam Hussein is a good man.

Yes, those were his words. The man slaughtered thousands of people. He violated the wives and daughters of many men in his rape rooms. He ordered these rapes. He ordered murders, and this man, the man in my meeting, was a HUGE fan of Saddam Hussein.

I did not think it would have been effective to discuss with him the dignity of life inherent in each human being.

I have never met a person who so freely expressed these real beliefs. I always thought that if I did, I would express my own opinions, and especially if that person was a man, he would feel the wrath of God via a woman and learn his place.

Not so much. I kept my mouth shut. Amazing, isn't it?

I do not feel anger, though, and I was not fearful. What I feel for this man is pity; pity that he cannot see the value of human life. Pity that he values both people and possessions so little that he can discard them without another glance if they have been sullied or sinned against. Pity that even as he denigrated the country he embraced via his citizenship, he has no problem buying into "Western values" so much to the degree that his money has become his god. Evidenced by his throwing away a car he might get back only becase someone else took it for a spin.

I felt pity because this man does not have Jesus Christ. He can look upon the cross and feel nothing becase he came from a culture (and possibly a religion) that does not value life, and this has been integrated within him. He has been fed a deception he thinks is truth, and so when he is faced with crisis, rather than forgiveness, he seeks the death of the one who sinned against him. Not hypothetical death..but true death. Death for his car. Death of a man or two in exchange for a shiny trinket which will rust and become junk anyway in a matter of years.

I harbor no love of thieves and criminals, but let's face it...if they want to take a car, then so be it. Why demand their lives? If their lives are so pathetic that they must steal cars, then they are living out their own punishment of misery on earth. Those of us with homs and cars and a life builit without the commission of crime are doing well; the misery of the street is not our choice as it is for thieves.

Why seek death for those who have chosen a pitiful existance? They need prayers for conversion, not death.

But this man sought death, and I have no doubt he would carry it out.

I realized during his tirade why I had been prompted to pray. Even through his profanity (which I did ask him to curb), and even through this anti-American, anti-life rant, I remained calm, I listened to him, and by the end of our conversation, we had found points of identification. We shook hands again, and apparently he lumped me in with the percentage of "good people" who do not cause harm and thus deserve to die and both of us left the conference room laughing.

I do not look forward to further conversations, and so I ask you all to pray for me as I continue to meet with this follower of Saddam Hussein as our business does carry on. Please pray that I will continue to exhibit Christ to him, and not my own ego.

These people are among us; they are our co-workers, they might be friends, and we meet them as clients and maybe even business partners or supervisors.

I do not think he is a bad man; I think he has been horribly mislead, and so I entrust him to the most Sacred Heart of Jesus, and apparently I am being used to bring Christ to him through...what? I still haven't figured that out. But if I could remain silent through the man's tirade, I know God is somewhere in the works and he has a plan.

God help and bless us all.

But I still have to ask...how many souls has the likes of Saddam Hussein lead away from the Lord...and how can the rest of us help to bring those souls back?

The Kentucky Derby

Today is Derby day, and of course, for racing fans, we just witnessed the blistering and undisputable win belonging to Barbaro. I think that, as one of the undefeated horses in history who went to the gate undefeated, and yet remains as one of the 6 still-undefeated, he is well on his way to greatness and in fact, has likely just sealed his fate as a high-dollar stud.

I have had a long love-affair with horses in general, and horseracing entered the scene after my first reading of "The Black Stallion" when I was a child.

I still remember my first sight of a horse, up close. I remember my Mom exclaiming about a "horse" coming down the street and she lifted me up so that I could see out of our etched-glass window. I watched nobility pass, bearing a waving mane and tail, prancing with a rider upon his stately back. I cried out, "Oh! I LOVE horses!".

I still remember then that my Mom's response was, "Yes, they are beautiful but you'll grow out of it."

It was a litany I heard throughout my life. We had a pony down the road, and after I was bucked off and feared horses for several years, my parents, Mom in particular, breathed a sigh of relief, thinking my "phase" was over..but it wasn't. Although I was afraid to ride anymore, and as I was not often around them, it didn't affect my love for the creatures.

When I was 13, although my Dad couldn't afford it, he paid for riding lessons every other week. I missed a lot as the class met once each week, but I was thankful for each and every lesson...to this day, the words of Martha, our instructor, echo in my head. "HEELS DOWN! CHEST OUT! ELBOWS IN! CHIN UP!"

I read all the Walter Farley books, and as a result, this cultivated a love of horseracing even though I'd never seen one. I was ecstatic when Canterbury Downs was built in Shakopee, MN. I remember telling Mom my life plans; I was going to become a jocky. I was going to do this by going up to Canterbury during the season and work as a groom...work my way to jockey, and maybe eventually train great horses.

Thank God she didn't understand I was serious...if so, she would have grounded me for life. She was upset, though, and vowed that no daugher of hers would ever do such a thing.

It came to pass, though, when I turned 16, I was there to enjoy the races on that very day. My Dad, as a gift, brought my brother and I to the races, and although I was too young to bet, he let me pick the horses. I had created a "cheat sheet" of owners, trainers, and bloodlines, and I used this to choose my horses.

At that time Canterbury Downs (now Canterbury Park) offered higher purses and thus drew a "higher" crowd of horsemen and horses...I remember that on that day, Texas Trio, who had raced in the Kentucky Derby, entered one of the Canterbury races. I begged my Dad to bet him to win for he was far superior to the rest of his field. My Dad declined, choosing to bet him to show...and Texas Trio won.

That same day happened to be Fan Day, and they were offering a drawing for "A Filly for a Fan", which we entered.

Dad joked that if we won, he would name the filly, "Julie's Dream", after me.

(As an aside to any potential owners...will you consider naming a filly in honor of my Dad and I?)

Anyway, two years prior, in 1988, I had begun writing my own racehorse story, under the influence of Walter Farley and the great filly, Winning Colors. I completed the story and it was laid to rest for many years...ony to be revived in 2001. I did real research in 2002 by visiting Canterbury Park and obtaining permission and an escort "backside" to learn more about the nuts and bolts of racing.

I remember my idealism, back to when I was young; I was going to be a jocky. Although I am still somewhat short, I do not meet the credentials and I have resigned to the fact that I will never be a jockey. Then I figured I would be a trainer...and I have realized that the only option currently open to me is to become an owner...and that is not currently possible.

My status as a non-horseman does not crush me; in fact, a few years ago I grew hopeful when I realized that riding-horse ownership is a very real possibility, althougn not right now. Racehorse ownership? Maybe. We'll see.

For now, though, I wait, and hope, and occasionally go to the races. I have read books, I am slowly and occasionally working on my book, and as of today, I harbor the hope that Barbaro will go on and win the Triple Crown.

Maybe the horses I want to own, and are yet to be named are not in the Derby, but that does not stop my enjoyment.

So if any owners out there want to sell me even a minimal share in a horse, say, $100 in a champion and be willing to name said horse, "Julie's Dream", let me know. I would like to think my Dad, 11 years in his grave, would enjoy that even a portion of our joint dream has come true.

For now, I am content to watch the Derby, and the Preakness, and the Belmont, and wait for the day that I may actually attend to watch my own horse run. Possible? Yes. Probable? No.

Isn't that what dreams are for?

Crawling through the darkness

I learned a lesson in September of 2001, while I was experiencing "The Tower"; that is, the physical training portion of my training to become a firefighter for a midwestern city. We'd been hired after an arduous process, and after months of academics, I was fighting to overcome personal obstacles which, in the end, would lead me to my new career.

The Tower was 6 weeks at the city's training facility, focusing on the SOP's (Standard Operating Procedures) and "evolutions", which were the exercises assigned for the day. Throughout the six weeks the evolutions went from simple three-step operations to full blown firefighting--as much as possible without a real fire.

The first week was fairly easy, however. I remember one of our first evolutions...we had assigned partners and the assignment was simple: Find the fire and put it out.

At the entrance to one of the training buildings, we donned our turnout, to include the SCBA tank and accompanying facepieces, and waited, two by two, to make the trip.

I was on the nozzle. The "charged" hoseline snaked back to the Engine, which was attached to the hydrant out on the apron. My partner was a a friend, and his was probably the more difficult job.

We had done searches before, but this was different. This time, we had all our gear, we had the heavy hose to carry, we were in complete darkness with our airtanks on (containing a limited amount of air), and the building was full of "smoke".

I remember opening the door, the nozzle in hand, having felt the entrance door with the back of my gloved hand. Slowly we crawled inside and I made my way to my left to find the wall just inside the door...which lead to a corner...and up the stairs. As the light from the doorway faded, about 5 steps up, and we labored to drag the heavy hoseline with us, my job was to keep my hand on the wall. My partner had to focus on pulling the hoseline as we went, not an easy job. Slowly, we made our way, step by step, my hand never leaving the wall. This was so far the most realistic scenario in training, and I knew we were creeping along at a snail's pace. I was thankful it wasn't real...if there were any victims, they would have grown old and died before we ever got to the half-way point of that smoky cement stairwell.

Somewhere in that darkness, where the only sound was our grunts of effort in dragging the tankline and short, muffled words of encouragement to each other, I felt panic creep upon me. I was burdened with the weight of the SCBA tank and my turnout gear. My knees hurt and ramming one upon the sharp corner of a step did not help the situation. I was hot and sweaty although we hadn't gotten far...and I knew I was sucking air far faster than I should be. Would my tank last at this pace??

I wanted to stop and turn around. I wanted to stand up, get out of the bulding, remove all the confining burdens and I wanted to drink as much water as was available. I did not want to go forward and face the dragon that awaited us, and even worse...the Captain.

But somewhere, deep within me, my training thus far spoke out, and I believe to this day, the Holy Spirit. I did not hear words, but only had an understanding, and my thoughts went from jumbled panic to cool reality.

"All I have to do is keep my hand on the wall. The wall isn't going anywhere...it's RIGHT THERE. All I have to do is follow it and bring the water. Anthony has the harder job, and he's doing great. And if I have to leave, he will leave with me, but I'm not going to make him do that. But we can get out of here any time we want...as long as I stay in contact with this conglomeration of rock.

The panic left me, and we both moved forward and upward with renewed vigor. The wall to my left turned a corner to the left and I followed it, turning to help advance the hoseline. We found a door...I felt along the doorway, knowing that this was it..because we were in a dead end and the only place to go was IN.

I fumbled so badly that our Captain grabbed my flailing yellow-leather-gloved hand and forced it to the doorknob with some exasperation. I shoved the door open. As we entered, the flames shot upward from the area of the far wall and corner. We could see now, and we saw the Captain, beckoning us forward.

We crawled forward, staying low, bringing in the hoseline only to find we dind't have enough...and while the dragon roared, we hauled, and got into position. The nozzle had a type of handle on the underside similar to a handgun, but longer. On top there was a lever to control the flow of water. I set my position, feeling Anthony's arm pressed against my back and shoulder to support me as the water surged forward. The pressure drove me backward as anticipated, but he did his job and together, we put the fire out. We turned it off and listened to the critique, then left, triumphant. Not a great job, overall...but we did it and we were the first to do so.

Here is my point...this was not so much a lesson in firefighting as it was a lesson in the Spirit, for it is not the physical details that have left an impression on me; it is the realization that we are all crawling in the darkness, and sometimes, the smoke is so thick and choking, and sometimes we don't think there's enough air, and sometimes we think we are lost.

Sometimes we get the urge to backtrack and get a "perspective," and maybe realize that we don't want to go through that darkness because the reward cannot possibly be worth it.

But that's the wrong approach. Had I run away as I wanted to, I would have lost my job, in all liklihood. If I could not have gotten through that, then I certainly would not have been able to get through anything else.

That's the spiritual life. God beckons us forward, knowing what is in that darkness and knowing our personal struggles...but he doesn't send us alone. And he gives us a rock to grasp as we wander, hauling whatever type of burden He requires of us, maybe some things of our own choice. But when it gets dark and smoky, and we begin to panic, that is the time to remember that we have a grasp of something special; we have Jesus Christ and the Church, which is our Rock. Even if we can't see, we can at least know that something solid is guiding us, and as long as we can keep in touch with that, we will find our way.

Sure, there are dragons and obstacles and the like, and we know that going forward. We can't run away because those dragons don't go away by themselves...we are ALL called to fight them. And somewhere, in the darkness behind us, there is someone sent by God to guard our backs, and that being does double duty when our only job is to find the way through the dark and the smoke.

Remember to thank your Guardian Angel tonight and always. Keep your hand upon that Rock which will forever guide you through the darkness, in spite of the smoke, in spite of the obstacles...that Rock will always be there.

Trust in Jesus and push forward, especially when you want only to flee. As long as you keep your hand in His, you will have no need to escape.

Sisters in Jesus the Lord

This is one of my favorite orders...they are new, they are local, and they need your prayers to support them! God bless these Sisters!

Apparently it's been too long since I visited this site, as there was a Star Tribune article about them and I have to admit it was fairly well done. It is articles like this that strike me and cause me to consider anew the attractiveness of a life of a Bride of Christ;

Minneapolis Star Tribune:

Young woman symbolizes new concept of nun
Katherine Kersten, Star Tribune

Kelly Whittier has the makings of a successful career woman. She's got degrees from two prestigious institutions, the College of William and Mary in Virginia and Emory University in Georgia. She's poised, articulate and well-traveled, and radiates the "sky-is-the-limit" look of a young woman with big plans.

When I met Whittier this week in St. Paul, she was dressed in the full habit of a Roman Catholic nun.

For many Minnesotans, the word "nun" conjures up a character in a farcical dinner theater production or, at best, an elderly relic of decades past. But Whittier, 29, represents a rising generation of young Catholic women who are picking up the centuries-old tradition, often in new ways.

A native of Virginia, she first considered joining a religious sisterhood in college. She cites a range of influences -- a strong Catholic student group, a choir that introduced her to the riches of sacred music. Last year, after several years of indecision, she moved to St. Paul to join Sisters in Jesus the Lord, a new order in the first stage of working toward Church approval.

How did her friends and family react? Whittier describes a favorite college professor's response: " 'I'm so disappointed,' he told me. 'I'm sorry your life is over. I had such high hopes for you.'

That professor, like many today, saw being a nun as the ultimate confinement, a way of life completely inconsistent with the modern world's greatest value: freedom.

Whittier disagrees: "For me, being a sister is about freedom -- the freedom to be totally available to a great number of people, to live wherever I need to minister, to work and pray exactly as I'm called to."

Ordinary people understand the importance of such freedom, says Whittier. She describes a young friend, also a sister, who was startled at the reaction she got when she first wore her habit in public. "When people saw her habit," Whittier says, "they didn't seem to care what her name was or where she came from. She was just 'Sister.' People asked her questions, shared about their lives, asked her help. They were comfortable coming up to her because, just by looking at her, they knew that she's given her whole life to God."

Whittier acknowledges that her vocation requires sacrifice. "But being a sister isn't saying you want to hide from the world, or you're not attracted to men. In fact, a sister or a priest should be someone who would also be a wonderful wife and mother, or husband and father, but who has chosen a different path."

As a Sister in Jesus the Lord, Whittier will spend coming years in a place even colder than Minnesota -- Vladivostok, in eastern Siberia, Russia. There she will join two American priests who have a mission at the city's Most Hooly Mother of God Catholic Church. Whittier will feed street children, care for abandoned elderly people and help build a music ministry. In the process, she says, she will assist in reviving a church that had about 12,000 registered members in the 1920s, but was shuttered in the 1930s after the Soviet government murdered or exiled thousands of parishioners.

Whittier is hopeful that Sisters in Jesus the Lord will flourish as more young women learn of its mission. Every week, she says, she helps review the names of about eight young women who have a potential interest in its work.

Roman Catholic nuns are generally thought to be a vanishing breed. But young women like Kelly Whittier, with their intelligence and energy, are bringing the vision flickering back to life.

Katherine Kersten • kkersten@startribune.com



What else is there to say?