My Conversion Story Chaper II

My faithful readers will remember the first part of my conversion story, which is found here.

Tonight I'm going to share with you a very painful part of my life...one which still hurts and likely will for the rest of my life. It is a tale of failure, yet even now, as much pain as it causes, I realize that what I perceive as failure really was a great blessing from God, one I likely have not fully ascertained. And because I know that everyone has experienced failure, maybe this is a story with which all can identify.

I apologize in advance that this is so long, but I have found that once this story has begun it must go on until the bittter end.

If you'll recall, at the end of Part 1, I had described how I was in tears whenever attending Mass with my friends, and I had wandered for a long time like this. So I will begin with my first career:

I graduated early from college as I had spent a summer in Law Enforcement Skills training as part of my B.A. degree in Criminal Justice. So it was that I was able to take the MN State Licensing Exam, (P.O.S.T. Peace Officers Standards and Training) that spring and by May, the formal graduation with my University class, I had a job offer with a suburb of the Twin Cities Metro Area here in Minnesota.

It's important to note here that not a single member of my family, immediate or extended (save my brother), was supportive of my chosen career as a Police Officer. Since my Dad had passed away a year and a half before, and he was the only one who was really "proud" of the fact that his daughter was embarking on this endeavor, I was pretty much alone when I moved to my new city of residence...the city in which I was to work. In fact, a cousin was approached by certain members of my extended family (to include my Godfather) and asked to discourage me from my career. As though the lack of support wasn't discouragement enough!

I moved into my first apartment and I was living alone...a small town girl in the Twin Cities. Thank God I had another friend in the area, and for the first few weeks of employment I lived with her because I was required to have a working phone, and my apartment did not have such immediately. I had no one else. It was me 'n God, and I really wasn't giving a lot of attention to God at that stage.

I still remember my swearing-in ceremony: I remember standing before certain members of the City Council in the briefing room, my Field Training Officer (FTO), my Mom, and my uncle, (himself a Park Ranger), and some other officers, raising my right hand to swear to serve and protect, and clipping my badge onto my belt. I had not yet qualified at the range with the .45 Smith & Wesson semi-automatic carried by the department, so I was in street clothes. It wasn't long before I qualified, and I'll never forget the pride I felt when I donned the symbols for which I had struggled all the way through school: The uniform of the department of which I was now a part - so new I could still smell the dark blue-black dye; the shiny badge, pinned right over my heart; and the shiny gun, settled in the black leather holster over my right hip.

Because I didn't have a vest yet and I was no dummy, I became more aware of my mortality and that I had forgotten God for too long. I knew I had to pray, and indeed, I knew I needed God.

I had never really left God...I had only left the Church. Sorta. I didn't see why I couldn't just worship on my own; I didn't see why I had to go to Mass. But I knew that I needed to pray and that the Bible was the Word of God. I had actually read something once which had discussed two police officers; partners who had prayed Psalm 91 together, and so I took up that practice and read this Psalm every day at the start of my shift. I prayed for protection; I prayed for God's hand to be upon me and to guide me and to keep me from death at the hands or weapon of a criminal. Even today I am convinced God placed that little story into my hands and helped me to keep tight to His hand via the humble words of scripture.

In the beginning, things went well. My first FTO called me a "sponge" and I learned a lot. The geography of the city was no problem for me. But even then, I recognized a problem; I started my new career on day shift, and they used to joke that the officers were "retired on day shift." Every morning, when I arrived in the briefing room, I remember this sense that a black cloud hung over everything and the cynicism was so thick I could hardly breathe. I remember one officer, an investigator, actually telling me that since I was so young (22), I could retire at 42 and have a second career, along with my pension.

His enthusiastic words faded into the background as I thought to myself, "20 years? 20 YEARS? I have to do this for 20 MORE YEARS!?"

It was only my second week on the job. Already the life I had thought I wanted was losing its shine.

It wasn't long before everything went all to hell. I became very nervous before my shift, wondering what I'd be thrown into for the day; I began to struggle although I'm not really sure why. I hesitated, I was terrified of making mistakes, even small ones, and whole areas of the city seemed to "disappear" from my mind when we rushed from one place to another for an emergency. I began to make really dumb mistakes and really second-guessed myself in everything I did.

It didn't help that the department had exceptionally high standards; they usually hired from within, but with a lack of Community Service Officers (CSO's) and a need to fill positions immediately, they had to hire out of their ranks. Normally they didn't hire those fresh out of college as their program was tailored to those who had experience. One Captain, seeing me struggle to overcome my rookie-ness and newbie weaknesses, actually told me that had a certain officer (hired ahead of me) not been a CSO first, then she never would have made it through the FTO program. And officers I knew outside of my city told me the same thing; that officers even with five years of experience or more had failed with that department. I still can't figure out why my Captain thought that this bit of information would be an "encouragement" to me...rather I believe it was a not-so-subtle discouragement...just another blow to weaken my cracking foundation.

I quickly grew tired of carrying my stomach and heart in my throat...there just wasn't enough room in that small space.

Then came the formal second-guessing and undermining perpetuated upon me by those who were supposed to lead me to success. One FTO had some major family issues (father-in-law was dying) and was, as a result, was forced to take time off. What of his rookie? No matter. I was switched to different shifts and different FTO's on an almost daily basis. Thankfully, one experienced fill-in FTO in particular was very helpful and on days I worked with him everything I touched turned to gold. He explained that he was trained as a teacher and had learned that for every criticism, we need 10 affirmations in order to balance that. He did his best to fulfill this and predictability, I relaxed with him and my days were a success.

Unfortunately, he was a substitute only. The committed FTO's seemed bent on my destruction. Other female officers in the locker room confessed to me that they had sometimes actually broken down and cried while going through FTO; but they assured me I'd get through it.

I wasn't so sure. I remember one incident in which my FTO had been telling me to stop second-guessing myself and commit to my decisions. We went to a loud party call in which, surrounded by four other officers, I explained to the offending tenant why we were there. I let him vent in the hallway about how he worked nights and other people were noisy during the day. I pointed out to him that it was 3:00 am and we worked nights, too, and the ordinance was a 24 hour ordinance. He actually began to calm down and understand we weren't going to ticket him and the visit was only educational. He nodded calmly and started to ask a question in a normal tone of voice. My FTO suddenly leapt into the man's face and began shouting at him. The man was naturally startled, offended, and placed on the defensive by this unwarranted attack. He expressed that wanted to continue to talk to me. While my FTO screamed at him and threatened to take him to jail, he dodged, trying to make eye contact with me in order to continue our productive conversation. The FTO finished the "conversation" with a shouting match and we all departed. All I could do was shrug at the poor guy as we went on our way.

When we got to the squad car I asked my FTO why he had jumped in. Usually he did that when I had screwed up once again. Having gone over it and over it in my mind, I never saw my alleged error.

"What did I do wrong?", I asked, honestly confused.

"Nothing."

"But I must have done something wrong. You jumped in." I was perplexed

He told me I had done nothing wrong and that he just wanted to start a fight.

So at that point, thoroughly confused, my second-guessing increased, terrified he would undermine me yet again. I thought I had things figured out...he taught me that night that I had no idea what was even coming.

I moved on to a different FTO for another phase of the program. Same thing; I continued to be forced to work a rotating schedule.

The stress, the constant criticism, all was wearing on me. I left every single night wondering if I'd done anything right all day (or night) long. I never heard a positive word or any sincere encouragement. And since we departed at 3 A.M., the FTO didn't want to go over my critique for the day; he saved them for first thing in the morning.

Let's look at this psychologically; starting each new day with the mistakes of the day before. Who wrote this program? Who could succeed? What I was taught to view as a form of mercy (note the hour of Mercy) was really the hour of the ultimate punishment and I didn't even have the gumption to protest.

I started forgetting the smallest details. Roads I had known in the past began to "disappear" in my mind, especially when driving to an emergency. I couldn't answer questions and I had no idea how to respond to some situations. I couldn't sleep at night and when I did, I was plagued with nightmares. I prayed every single day before my shift for approximately half an hour, paging through the Bible, especially the Psalms, for the right words. I cried myself to sleep each night, struggling with this career to which I thought I had been called. You have no idea the anguish I felt as I wondered if I should just quit or continue on? But somehow, I continued, knowing that, having worked so hard, fighting against chauvinism, fighting against my very family..I could not quit. And of course the ultimate reason...I had grown up on welfare and I REFUSED to ever be forced to live as an adult on that terrible system. I could not quit...I had nowhere to go.

The meetings began. The remedial training began, with the platitudes that they wanted me to succeed. I was pulled into the conference room, faced with the shift commander, the assigned FTO, the sergeant in charge of FTO's, and told how awful I was. They explained to me that no one else in my circumstances could do it and that I wasn't "getting it" and that they wanted me to succeed. They went out of their way to tell me that no other officer in the history of the department had ever been put through this remedial training and this should prove that they were working for my success. I saw through their words, though, and I realized that the eyes are indeed the windows to the soul. I could see the lies for myself, but through my own pride, I wanted to believe; and so I continued. But it was plain by their actions that they did not want me to complete the program. And it was clear to me that I no longer wanted to succeed myself. Yet there was no easy way out of this cross I had chosen to bear. Even as I fought the current of blood, sweat, and tears, I was drowning and I had no one with whom to share my struggle; no one knew, no one understood, and not a member of my family thought I should have been there in the first place.

It was obvious that I had to remain to the end, whatever sort of garrote awaited me.

I couldn't quit; I rationalized to myself that maybe I was just having a temporary crisis. Maybe it was the fact that I was living in my first apartment alone, footing all my bills without a roommate and didn't know many people in the city. Most of my co-workers were married or had other things going on so I never became close to them. I was trying to learn the real world when fresh out of college. I needed to give it a chance and continue...maybe the bulb would go on and I would pull through. Then, at least, if I still wanted to quit, I could do so with my head high and options open.

So I'd go in to work, my stomach in knots, and again told to work the shift, leave, and return only 12 hours later. I did not have regular days off; I did not have regular sleep. I was made to feel that what they were doing to me in that training program was normal. I have compared notes with other rookies in other places; what happened to me was far from normal.

But I never quit. I felt that I had to see it through until I was beaten to a bloody pulp. And so it was.

I remember my last night; I was going home early that night and we were called to a violent domestic. It was a rainy, freezing night the week after Thanksgiving and icy slush covered the roads and cars. I got out of the squad, asking my FTO if he wanted me to stay to go to the call. The FTO shook his head, did not look at me, told me to go ahead and end the shift as planned. I knew that it was over.

The next day I went in to work, specifically called to the Captain's office. He delivered the news; they were letting me go. He explained to me that I was being fired, but I had the option to resign and they would pay me for two more weeks. Call it severance. The record could reflect that I left voluntarily or I left because I had no choice; it was my option to choose what the record would reflect although we both knew the truth.

I took a deep breath and listened as he preached that they were concerned about me and wanted to be sure I turned over my weapon. I thought to myself that if they were really concerned they would take the one I had at home, too. The one not assigned, but purchased when I was in college. If I wanted to do something stupid, I could do it without their weapons and without their useless platitudes.

I remained silent.

It was the moment I knew had been coming. I was being stripped of the symbols that I used to define myself. Being a cop is an identity unto itself; it is a way of life, a way of thinking which permeates ones very soul. It is a calling, and even the experience changes the individual forever. I had come to see myself as cop first, woman second, and all else...following. It was who I thought I was, but as it turned out, I was wrong; I didn't know who I was or where I belonged...only that it wasn't what I thought.

So I first removed my badge and handed it to the Captain, although he started to tell me I could turn it in later. I just shook my head; I didn't want to remember that I would never wear it again. I carefully removed the .45 from the holster, pointed it down and away from him, dropped the clip, ejected the round from the chamber and handed the gun to the captain; unloaded, slide back, butt towards him; a proper hand-off. It was one of the first things I learned in relation to gun handling. If nothing else, I was going to do that correctly.

I stood, shook his hand, and left his office in silence, completely numb, not allowing myself to feel what was just below the surface. I was taken to the Chief's office, seated, and he closed the door.

"Have you been happy here?", the Chief questioned, honestly concerned.

I had no beef with him; the Chief had had nothing to do with my training and at the moment, he was the only person in the hierarchy I actually liked.

I wanted to be honest with him; I wanted to tell him that I'd never been so miserable in my entire life, and that included the suicidal days of my early teens. I wanted to tell him that I might have succeeded--in some other department, but that the rug had been jerked out from under my feet and that his very FTO's had trampled me underfoot like so much trash. I wanted to tell him that any confidence that I had so carefully built through college was only a remnant of a thought.

"Yes." was all I said.

I can't recall the rest of our conversation...I was too focused on willing the tears back into their ducts. I remember my strained voice and the control needed to maintain my composure...I remember the direct gaze of the Chief, a good man as far as I could tell, a puzzled man near his retirement who likely couldn't understand what had gone wrong with such a promising candidate and who likely knew I was lying through my teeth. Happy cops don't get fired.

There was nothing left to say. I stood, shook the Chief's hand, thanked him for the opprotunty (as I'd shaken the Captain's hand after I gave him the gun), turned and walked out of his office, a condemned woman. The station seemed abandoned. It seemed that everyone was gone. I'd faced my judgment, had faltered, and I was not going to fall any further than I was; there had to be something left somewhere.

I remember feeling the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders, the heft of the weapon gone from my hip, the drag from the badge safe in the Captain's desk. But never before had my heart been so heavy or my steps so final. Never before had I felt so crushed.

Ironically, my badge number was 72. In police radio 10-codes, a 10-72 is a DOA (Dead on Arrival). Such was my career as a police officer.

I walked down the stairs to the locker room for the last time, still holding my tears as I cleaned out my locker. There was nothing left of me; I had defined myself by my goal, and was destroyed completely in the process. Everything I knew and thought I believed went up in flames and fell as dust at my feet...and it was a long time before I was able to pull my life together again and find my true identity.

Even now, when I think back to those days, all I can do is sing a shattered lullabye to the person I worked so hard to become; the identity I tried to hard to impersonate, only to crash to the ground, completely smashed to smithereens.

I will never forget the drive home that morning, realizing that I had been fired from my "dream job".

I didn't even want it anymore...it was a matter of pride and it was the sense of failure I'd never before experienced. I had always worked very hard and doors had always semed to open for me..although that's not to say that there wasn't effort involved. Yet I had been completely humiliated and I wondered, where, in all this, was the God I had been praying to all along? Where was he? Why hadn't he saved me from this mess? Why hadn't He helped me to succeed?

It was a turning point in my life, and as such, this is the place to end the chapter. My conversion story continued on, however, Blue Coyote that I am, but since none of you wants to read a book tonight, I will leave you to ponder the brokenness of falure; the humiliation of knowing that one does not actually die from this type of tragedy, but life goes on in spite of our feelings and sensations, and somehow, that is worse than death. True death leads to true judgment, and in that is hope; for the Lord is merciful and someday I will fully understand the mercy suffered on my particular day of deathles judgment.

More importantly, ponder this; even in the midst of such suffering, there is redemption, and I promise to show you how that happened to me; pathetic, broken, prideful soul that I was there in the hard winter of 1996-1997 in my 22nd year of life.

For even when we forget about God, he does not forget about us.

To be continued....

Conversion Story Chapter 3

How to Write an Research Paper out of Common Household Catholic References

Well, I've made a decision, with regard to my returning to school.

I'm going to apply, and I'm going to take it step by step. There's actually an informational meeting about the degree I'm seeking on September 27th, although I have to wonder why they're having it so late in the game when the deadline for Spring admission is November 1. However, I hope to go. Maybe I'll have my app in by then, or maybe not but I still think it might be worth attending.

I downloaded and printed an application off today for the Master of Arts in Catholic Studies, and read the requirements. I've been ten years out of college and they want me to provide three references by a professor. I doubt any of my profs would remember me, especially after 10 years of other students, most likely far more interesting than I. However, I did have many wonderful chats with the Brother who is currently the President of my University...perhaps he would remember me and be willing to spare a kind word to help a future teacher along? In any case, UST is willing to make allowances for those such as myself who have been out for many years, so my reference search is going to happen closer to home.

I have to also turn in an essay, 700 words or less, regarding the reasons I care to pursue this degree. I guess my conversion story will be too long?

Then I have to submit a 10-12 page "writing sample" which displays research, critical thought, and writing ability. I considered the summeries of investigations at work, with the names removed, however even those are too short although they otherwise meet the criteria in a real-world legalistic sort of way. (Lots of quoting state statutes and such). I'm sure that for this purpose I'd be able to submit an old college paper, but I don't think I have any that long...I'll have to see. The likely result here is that I'll have to write a research paper.

Any ideas for topics I should research? I have a growing Catholic library and know lots of solid online sources, although I would like to keep this project simple. If possible, I'd like to put to use the things around my house...perhaps a summary of how we got the Bible and the different translations available to both Catholics and Protestants? A dissertation on Luther and his "sola scripture, sola fide" nonsense? Oh, wait...we're not to the doctoral dissertation yet...I'm just applying for admission to a program which might lead to a Master's degree.

Ultimately, I have decided that this might be a test of faith to me. I have come to realize that when we are walking around in our homes, offices, shopping malls...what have you, we first recognize our surroundings. Then we look for the doorways leading to certain goals we might have in those given surroundings. After we identify the doorway, we approach it but it never opens until our hands are on the knobs, or pushing where it says "push", or pulling where it says "pull". Only then do we walk through the doorway, and sometimes we have to dodge people rushing out, or bail out of the way of people stampeding to get through the same door.

The reality is that life is like this...God isn't going to open the door until we are standing in front of it reaching for the knob. I think Grad School is the same way. I have recognized my surroundings as being...confining, and I am looking for a way out. God knows where it is but I need to spend more time doing something other than spinning my wheels. So now I recognize the doorway and the only way to approach it is to prepare...by filling out the application. This is my door. Maybe it leads to a closet, and speaking as someone who has wandered into these proverbial closets, I'm kind of sick of the experience. As it is, I think I'm stuck in a walk-in closet. Maybe UST is the doorway to something else I have not considered. Maybe it's what God wants me to do.

But I will never get anywhere without taking the risk. After all...if I don't take the steps, I'll never enter. And what about financial aid? Nothing. I'm going to have to trust here. One thing at a time. Fill out the app. Get accepted. Then worry about payment, and quite honestly, God is the guy with the checkbook and if he wants me there, he'll pull it out and write out the funds to UST in my name. He's done it before for me and for others I know...why not now? And if not, then I'll have lost nothing.

Even the time I have to spend on a research paper will be time well spent...after all, I'll be learning something! Yay!

I do ask you all for continued prayers, and tonight I leave you with one of my favorite yet least-followed sayings:

Pray, Hope, Don't worry. ~ St. Pio

Praying about returning to school

Everyone, I'd like to ask for your prayers, and believe me, if this is to happen I need a HUGE miracle.

It has been on my heart for a long time to go back to school...even before I got my B.A. degree, I wanted to go to grad school. However, I realized I didn't know for certain which area I wanted to study and I think I finally know...at least, down to two areas..one specific, and one broad but with more info likely to be pinpointed. Oh, and I just thought of a third area I learned about today.

Today I'm off work, recovering from our camping trip. This afternoon I took a nap...just couldn't keep my eyes open. During that nap, I had a dream about returning to school and it seemed it was going to happen. I woke up with the understanding that I'm never going to go back if I don't take a few steps towars the possible goal.

I'm in a job in which I have no future. When I first started, I *knew* where I wanted to go with the company, but now I'm simply not interested. Already, I'm burned out as it is. It's not for lack of internal opportunity...opportunities abound as the company is profitable and is constantly expanding and restructuring. But I'm not interested in any of it. Clearly I have not found my niche professionally.

I think I want to teach, and I've wanted to study theology. Ironically, when I was in high school an uncle of mine offered to pay my way through college-any college or university without restriction--if I would become a teacher. He was on the board of trustees of a school he helped to found out East and I was thus pretty much guaranteed a job. I refused and although he did assist me in paying for school, I funded the rest myself via scholarships, grants, and student loans. I'm still paying for that--every month.

And another irony...when I went to school for my B.A. degree, I considered then studying theology, but I was so focused on what I thought I wanted to do that I didn't give it much thought...and perhaps it wasn't the time, anyway.

Now, here I am, 10 years later, wanting desperately to return to school for a grad degree.

Right now I'm looking at St. Thomas for a Master's degree in either Education (teaching), Catholic Studies, or a joint degreen in Catholic Studies and Law. As my B.A. degree is in Criminal Justice, the latter option might be a good one.

But here's the problem--or rather, several problems:

* I own a house and I'm paying for a mortgage, a car, and all the utilities. I don't have enough space for a roommate.

* I have dogs, thus the expense and the necessary time required for them...ie running home from work to feed them and let them out, etc. Giving them up is NOT an option. Do you have any idea how many pets are euthanized because there are more homeless pets than available homes? That, and as far as I'm concerned, they are family, AND I made an agreement to be a responsible owner. That means not giving up on one's best friends because they suddenly become inconvenient on a whim.

* I have no money left over at the end of the month..not for ANYTHING. That's never a good thing.

At this point, I think what needs to happen is that I need to find a financial package that will pay for my expenses (and debt), to include the dogs while I attend school full time, and find a part time job with benefits to save my parish from having to take up a collection to pay my medical bills should disaster befall me. Because of the dogs, I could not just take evening classes without effect because I would not have time to run home and then to class in the evening--I live too far away from St. Thomas...not to mention the gas money! Oy Vey!

I'm not sure I'd qualify for a fellowship...sadly, I didn't work hard enough when I got my BA degree, although I did well. But I would not refer to my GPA as "outstanding". It was good and I think I was in the top quarter or third of my class, but I did not graduate cum laude. One of the other options might work but it would certainly not cover my expenses.

So you see, if I go back to school, I need something major to get me there. I need a scholarship, I need Divine Providence, and honestly, if God wants me to go back to school, He will provide the means for me to quit my job and pay for the classes.

I'm asking you all to pray for me. At this point I'm thinking of becoming a teacher--a religion teacher, specifically. You all know how I love my faith! And after the watered down crap I (and so many others) were fed for so long, I want to be part of the solution of solid formation. I'm not sure what I'd do with a joint degree in Catholic Studies and Law, but I may contact the college to find out what those grads do.

If anyone has any ideas or know anyone in a similar circumstance who pulled something like this off, please let me know. I'm in need of a little hope and a huge miracle!

Campfire Hair, Soggy Cheese, and Damp Towels

Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

I just got back from our camping trip. Three adults crammed into the front of a Ford Ranger, a German Shepherd dog and camping supplies packed into the topper, and we were on our way! On the trip out on Friday we stopped often to check on the dog because this is her first long trip. I feared carsickness because shortly after I got her I couldn't go six blocks without wiping up a mess. Poor girl! So this time I was prepared with vet-recommended dosages of ginger snaps (yes, you heard me correctly), a pet travel bowl, lots of water, and the seat cover from my back seat to try to keep dog drool off the stuff in back...especially the pillows.

Well, no need to worry. She settled right down and went to sleep, although she was in an uncomfortable place. Nearing the end of the trip she got sick of being jounced around so she checked the back for a more comfortable place...and climbed up ON TOP of all the stuff. Unfortunately she blocked the driver's rear view, but we all made do.

As it was, we arrived at the campground after dark. Our friends had arrived the day before and had an adjoining site. They figured we'd run into this darkness problem and so our tent was pitched and ready, although sadly, they were not at the site when we arrived. We quickly lit a fire and set up tiki torches and lanters so that we could see to unload the truck.

Did I mention that it was very cool? We had to put jackets on. In Minnesota, it was warm and humid..in Door County, WI, it was cool (55 F or so) and dry. Very nice!

The only problem was the spiders and the poison ivy. Like a dufus, I focused too much on the dog and getting her tied up somewhere while we prepped the camp and I tied her to a tree near the tent. Since she was hunting in the woods and eating various leaves, I decided to move her quickly because I couldn't see what she was munching on. As poison ivy is prolific in some areas, I didn't want her near too much vegetation. Earlier this year I read an article about how the fluid on poison ivy (urishol) can stick to the dog's fur and contaminate people/places.

Well, I tied her to another tree and all was well. It wasn't until the next morning that I realized she MIGHT have touched the poison ivy but since it had been dark I didn't know for sure where she had been, I couldn't remember what I had reached through to grab her collar, etc. But so far, so good...no rash yet, and I'd for certain be the one suffering at this point.

And the spiders? Yeah, this is daddy-long-legs season and they were EVERYWHERE! Maybe that's why there were no bugs...because those long leggy thinges were all over the place. Now, I realize that Daddy-long-legs really aren't spiders (look this up if you don't believe me), but most people consider them so, and they act like spiders and move like spiders...and so even if they aren't spiders they still creep me out.

Shortly after we arrived, my friend began screeching that there was the hugest spider she'd ever seen climbing on her husband. He looked over and calmly flicked the thing away, then continued holding the button on the air pump which was inflating one of the airbeds. I shuddered as only moments before, I had been sitting in his place...we had just swiched off inflation duty. EEK!

Later that evening, our other group of friends returned to the camp and shortly after he sat down at the camp fire, someone saw a spider on him and he stood, dancing around, alternately almost falling into the camp fire or into a tiki torch while trying to remove the jacket which was playing host to another very large spider.

The night was uneventful, but uncomfortable. My air mattress made a huge difference, but the dog, unaccustomed to her surroundings, paced and stared out through the tent screen which I'd left open for her. Had I not done so she would have paced even more. But we were on a slope so I felt like I was holding myself up all the time.

The ground was hard and rocky, like gravel in cement. I'm so thankful my friends told me to get an air mattress! Had they not, there is NO WAY I would have been able to sleep...I would have been sleeping in the truck.

On Saturday, after a short hike in the state park, we went north along the peninsula, exploring Door County. And yes, we found a vinyard and we bought cherries. I also purchased maple syrup, maple sugar, and some other things. We went all the way to the point, but due to our late start, we did not have a chance to take the Ferry to Washington Island. And I never got to see any lighthouses.

The last night, I had my own personal encounter with the spider-kind. The campground had a set of showers and flush toilets, which was nice...but as there were only 3 showers, 3 sinks, and 3 flush toilets, you can imagine how this place got grungy pretty quick...but it was better than the outhouse! So anyway, I had walked into the bathroom and as I was pulling my pants up, I realized there was a spider on them, looking right at me.

I wanted to scream and jump and I realized that this thing was very near bare skin and very close to actually going DOWN INTO MY PANTLEG THROUGH THE WAISTEBAND! For a a moment I froze, taking in the long spider-legs and the tan body. I'm not sure my heart beat even once..I know I didn't take a breath. I was stuck in a stall, half-dressed...I couldn't run out as I was and beg for help...and any movement might actually force the creature into hiding in my pantleg...oh nightmare of NIGHTMARES!

In the end, I just supressed my terrified scream and said in a low, strained voice, "OhGross!" and shook the loose material. The thing disappeared...I didn't even see it crawling away...it was GONE!

That was worse, but I could see it had not gone where I feared so I finished dressing and left the stall, shuddering.

There was one of my camp-mates--she'd come with our other group of friends, and was at the sink brushing her teeth. She asked me if I was the one who said, "OhGross", and I admitted it was. She told me she'd seen the spider crawl out from under the stall and I accused her of saying that only to make me feel better. She insisted however, so I had to accept what she reported.

Last night I slept like a stone and was the first person up. After I fed the dog I just sat, breathing in the piney, fresh-smelling air and enjoying the very nice, cool morning. It was beautiful and peaceful! What a moment to have to praise God for His creation!

This morning, not wanting to go near the grimey showers I just got dressed and we all struck the tent. Those who were Catholic attended a nearby Catholic church (One of our friends watched the dog--I got a GREAT shot of him in the back of the Ranger with the dog just outside the church.)

After a long drive, we arrived home and unpacked...then one more short trip to my house and more more bout of unpacking. First order of business...other than putting the meat away...a bath for the dog, and a shower for me!

And you know what? My hair still smells like a campfire. The cheese slices got wet and I think they're soggy and so are the brats. I have to wonder if my camp food is still salvageable? Tomorrow will tell the tale.

I'm taking the day off to recover from my weekend and plan to grill both lunch and dinner...out of necesity.

So....I guess, overall, the camping trip was a success. It's been years but the camping technology has gotten better. Admittedly, it would have been easier without the dog, but quite honestly, I would also have spent more money if the dog wasn't present. I could only leave her for a short time and so I'd had to leave the vineyard store, etc., to walk her and give her water.

And the good news about the dog...I don't think she's so anxious in the car anymore. If nothing else, I can chalk this weekend up to some very good experience/training for my dog and she has proven herself, as I always knew she was...a German Shepherd.

I would like to go camping again sometime...but for now, I think I just want to go to sleep in my bed and hopefully, my pilow won't take on the campfire smell that it still hanging onto my hair.

Roughin' It

I have a house, and I work quite hard in order to continue to keep a roof over my head...as I'm sure you all do. You know what I mean. And this week, I can tell you, I have really been questioning why I'm working so hard for a stupid roof, and I've been questioning whether it's worth it.

So I'm going to go out into the woods somewhere, and I'm going to pretend, with a bunch of friends, that we don't have houses.

That's right...we're going camping.

I haven't gone camping since I was a kid. I remember an incident when I was very young in which I was begging Mom and Dad to take me camping...it sounded lick such a fun idea! We had a nearby campground and although Mom grumbled, Dad was willing and he went on ahead to try to set up the tend. I think he messed it up, though, because when we arrived later Mom had to help him re-do it.

We used to have this red lantern which they hung from what seemed to be the impossibly high tent pole in the center, and I remember there being room for 4 sleeping bags and the dog. I think we went home the next day.

I also had to go on a camping trip with my Dad once with some group, and he had to kill a spider which crawled out of that same lamp which hung from the same tentpole. And then the next day I went fishing for crawdads and I still have a picture of me holding one of the creatures on a hook.

And girl scout camp? We slept on bunks in spider-infested cabins, and went to the bathroom in spider-and-bat-infested outhouses. I literally did NOT go to the bathroom all weekend and when I got home I think I went poty for a day straight. Mom was amazed.

When I was in my teens somewhere- mid-to early teens, I had some relatives who lived in a State Park because my uncle was the Park Ranger there. We spent a lot of time there and they had this awesome yard, and trails, and the like. So my cousins and I set up the tent on the edge of the woods in their spacious back yard and we roasted marshmallows and after awhile, went to sleep to the sound of the screech owls singing their eerie, spine-tingling tunes.

It was about half my life ago, and now I'm going again. The cool thing is, though, that I get to take one of my dogs- the German Shepherd, and I found someone to take my greyhound for the weekend.

So I guess I just have a favor to ask of all of you. As we go out into the wilderness of Wisconsin to enjoy the breeze off of Lake Michigan and the cliffs that border it, and as we travel between our homes and there and back, please keep us in your prayers.

God bless you all and have a wonderful and blessed weekend!

Private Revelation and Catholic Eschatology

Wow, just the title is a mouthful, and a brainful. Many have studied eschatology (study of the end-times) and have gone away more confused after much information than had they never broached the subject at all.

Well, (deep subject) I'm confused and I honestly haven't even started. I know I really need to read a book, and I know of several, but instead, I'm going to muse about this because it's been on my heart. I think my blog is my surrogate Spiritual Director...some of the stuff I'd tell an SD I'm sharing with all y'alls--because I don't have an SD. So congrats...you, my readers, have been elevated to the realm of "Spiritual Director". After all, I know a great number of you likely have attained a higher degree of knowledge, and more importantly, sanctity, than I have...thus you are qualified to lend your opinion and your knowledge.

Anyway, here's the situation.

I have several dear friends who are into private revelation. They are all solid Catholics, recieve the Sacraments, love Jesus, and to the best of their ability, live and preach the Gospel.

The other day, one of these friends and I were discussing some current affairs in the world of religion. She was not aware that the local Cub Foods is using "pay by touch" (they use your fingerprint and basically associate it with your bank account---how is this POSSIBLY a good idea?). This lead to a discussion of the microchip some companies are using to implant in people as admission into the door every day. And is being touted as having even greater usage in the future. We may all be required to recieve this chip.

I can't remember what exactly was said on this topic, but my friend said that "we're not supposed to do that, it's bad." ("We" meaning "believing Christians of all faiths, especially Catholics because that's what we are).

I asked her why "we're not supposed" to do it...says who? She became defensive, even though I expressed that I agreed with her, but wanted to know who she was citing in their alleged authority. She couldn't tell me. She could only express that someone had told her that someone had written about it and we're not supposed to recieve the micro chip because it's bad.

I pressed her for info...if I'm going to argue against it, I want all the info in my arsenal. She couldn't provide it. Then she said, "I'm going to wait to see what the Blessed Mother says about it."

Big red flags went up in my mind. It's not as though the Blessed Mother is hanging out at the corner, talking audibly to all of us...thus my friend is referring to certain mystics, both in Medjugorje and locally, who claim to recieve messages from Our Lady. She was expressing her dependance upon these alleged messages.

I'm no enemy of private revelation, mind you. It has a great history in the Church and has lead many out of a life of sin and back to the Lord. But that does not mean we should cross lines.

I have long worried that she and some others I know have been too dependant and too devoted to these mystics, and it has sent up red flags for me for a long time now. As some of you know, I used to be involved in the occult..I used to read palms and even consult my own for guidance...I used to consult Tarot and psychics and I could even tell fortunes through the use of everyday cards. (That started as entertainment, also). In other words, I used to rely on some other percieved "authority" to direct my actions, although I denied it at the time.

My friend's comment displayed that this is exactly what she is doing...she is relying on private revelation to direct her actions.

Thanks be to God, she has the Church and the Sacraments, but she does not have as much knowledge as I had thought about the Church...and she's not seeking to learn or experience anything more than Medjugorje. She and her mother are both telling me to go to Medjugorje, and so is her husband. I will not deny what the trip has done for them and for their marriage and their faith..far be it. However, we must all be careful not to put too much trust in something untried. The faith is good, the practice of our faith is good...but the over-focus on the untried is NOT good.

I tried to express this to my friend, and explained to her that she need not wait for anyone to speak for the Blessed Mother on this issue...I expressed to her that we can argue against the microchip through the citation of Civil Rights violations and the like. The potential for abuse. After all, I can tell you that the BCA and the FBI both have my prints on file due to jobs I held in the past, and quite honestly, the government thus has enough power to mess with my identify if they so chose to become a Tom Clancy novel.

The reality is that we do not know what the "mark of the beast" really is, in the Book of Revelation. But I get ahead of myself here.

After that conversation, I spoke to some friends, although I'll admit the Holy Spirit warned me not to...(see, I'm a friend of private revelation). I expressed my concern about my friend and her over-reliance upon these mystics, explaining it thus:

(paraphrased)

"I heard Father Mitch Pacwa explain the place of private revelation in terms of a meal. Jesus (the Eucharist) is the Bread of Life, that Substance without which we cannot survive. The Gospel and Sacred Tradition (and Magesterium) is the meat, and the writings of the Saints are the fruits and vegetables of the holy meal. Private revelation is dessert...we can live without it, although the reality of it completes the meal and provides a certain emphasis."

I doubt I was that eloquent, but I was quoting the good priest. I daresay he could explain his own example much better than I, so if you hear his allegory anywhere else, put your stake in his version, not mine.

My friends became quickly defensive and indignant, stating that "dessert is good" and that some people "need" private revelation to come to the Church, etc. I agreed with them but tried to explain that we need not and SHOULD NOT rely on it...they argued nonsensically that the Church can't approve apparitions until the mystic in question has died. I agreed, but I was floored by their lack of logic. Here were people I had respected as they are solid Catholics. They are involved in a local prayer group which meets on occasion with a local mystic (whom I have met and love), and apparently they are a bit too attached.

My understanding of these mysitcs is that they only seek to lead people to the Church...not to themselves, and if they realized the dependance of their followers upon them, what would they say? That might be telling.

I should have listened to the Holy Spirit and not had this discussion with my friends...I had to back off as tempers began to flare, and I was flabbrergasted at this. I did not expect that they would disagree that private revelation was only a side dish...but their defensiveness displayed a "fruit" of mysticism that I had not previously recognized. I praise God for revealing this to me.

Now, I want to caution you all...I am not decrying against the mystics. They are orthodox Catholics, they are obedient to the local bishop, and they are dear women in the faith. My concern is with the individuals who place too much emphasis upon the revelations.

That leads to eschatology. Where to begin? According to Catholic teaching, the Book of Revelation has already occurred, and actually is occurring every day...the description of the Mass is contained, in part within this book. (Read "The Lamb's Supper" by Scott Hahn).

But then we have talk of the "end times" and "chastizements" and the like. The mystics are talking about chastizements and the coming of Christ, and while I do not doubt this, I think we all need to have a better understanding of eschatology.

One of the Spiritual Directors of one of the local mystics points out that none of us knows the day or the hour the Lord may come, and that the messages are all about repentance, returning to the Sacraments, reading scripture, etc. He points out that as long as we are doing this, then we are safe, but we must continue to pray for the world's conversion. This has been preached since Jesus entered the earth!

I do think the world needs to be cleansed and I have no doubt that this is going to happen..but not before it gets worse. I believe we need to repent, we need to pray for conversion and yet, we watch the moral decay of civilization go on and on.

We, as Catholics, do not believe in the Rapture of the "Left Behind" fame, and this is of course a very new theology, which alone makes it wrong. Jesus never preached this fallacy. The Church has ALWAYS taught that we have been in the end times since the death of Christ (or birth?), and none knows the day or the hour...and I have not seen one of the local seers give a specific date or time. They have always been ambiguous about the sign to come from the east...sounds like springtime, but no month is given, other than maybe an expressed "guess" from the seer.

But it is not about the apocalypse...it is about chastizement.

What it comes down to is this: we must convert, we must pray, and we must spread the Gospel. If we rely on private revelation, we will not become knowledgeable in our faith, but we will become fat and looking to the skies for signs that may not come in our lifetime.

I can't express this enough...I am not against private revelation, but we have to be very careful that we are not RELYING on their unproven mesages from the alleged Blessed Mother to guide our actions...especially when we can use logic guided by what we KNOW to be true in order to defend against the poisons of the world.

I got tagged....

In dropping by Jennifer F.'s blog today, Et tu, Jen?, I was amazed to see that she'd tagged me for a meme, so I thought I'd answer her curiosity.


1. One book that changed your life: Why Do Catholics Do That? A Guide to the Teachings and Practices of the Catholic Church , by Kevin Orlin Johnson, PH. D., and the Left Behind series. Really.

When I was under attack by a Catholic-raised-turned-Baptist who lent me the "Left Behind" series, it was the double-whammy that got my attention. First I could not answer her claims that Confession was not scriptural other attacks against the faith I no longer practiced, and then I found myself deeply, deeply offended by the anti-Catholicism in the books. I kept reading, though, and realized that it was time to come home...I needed to "get right" with God, and it was time to get my questions answered. So I got a bee in my bonnet and went down to a local bookstore where I perused the Religion and Spirituality section. I'm thinking the Holy Spirit lead me to the book, "Why Do Catholics Do that" because it was EXACTLY what I needed. I didn't understand why we genuflected, why we believed in the True Presence, or anything else we do. It gave a brief history and talked about how the Bible was compiled, and answered all my little questions. This lead me to EWTN and "Web of Faith", and "Journey Home" and of course one thing lead to the other and I've been Home now for a few years.

Glory to God in the Highest!

2. One book that you've read more than once:

Aztec by Gary Jennings. I spent a semester in Mexico and I regret that I did not read the book before I went. It's about a man's journey through adulthood as a Mexica, and of course takes great liberties with his life in order to tell the story of the pre-colonial life of the Mexicas, commonly referred to as "Aztecs". Great story, but not recommended for children. Much adult content, much violence, but much of the cultural information is actually correct, which was nice.

just for a juxtaposition so y'all don't think I'm psycho, I'll never get tired of reading Anna Sewell's Black Beauty or Dorothy Lyons' Dark Sunshine

3. One book you'd want on a desert island:

The Anarchist's Cookbook It describes how to convert common household things into bombs...so maybe one can take the same logic, untwist it, and figure out how to turn palm trees into a catapult or spin sand into a fiberglass yacht.

OK, seriously? The Bible is obvious but a good Survival Guide might be handy...and one would not feel guilty about burning the pages with useless info as kindling.


4. One book that made you laugh:

1,911 Best Things Anybody Ever Said


5. One book that made you cry:

What book HASN'T made me cry? I'm a crybaby.

Most of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books made me cry copious tears with great racking sobs. Relevant Radios's "Glenn's Story Corner" pretty much turns me to mush, just a side note.


6. One book that you wish had been written:

The one(s) I'm working on in rough draft form that haven't been submitted for publication yet. But I have the pages numbered and some GREAT passages!


7. One book that you wish had never been written:

Why am I limited to only ONE? OK, Lorraine Boettner's "Roman Catholicism" (was that the name of it?). That thing isn't even worth typing the code to italicize the title.

8. One book you're currently reading:

Michael D. O'Brien's "Children of the Last Days" series: Plague Journal
He also wrote "Father Elijah" and "Sophia House" among others.

Of course, I'm also in the process of reading several other books as well...

9. One book you've been meaning to read:

Where We Got the Bible, Our debt to the Catholic Church by Henry G. Graham. I bought it an an apologetics conference a couple years ago and the binding isn't even broken, although I started to read it.



10. Book that you bought but haven't read:


GK Chesterton's Father Brown of the Church of Rome



OK, now who do I tag? Most of the people I read frequently and who read my blog have already posted, so I guess I'll hit up my two closes cohort-groups:

Ray and the Hadleys at Our Word

I've Recognized the Call...the Lord is calling me...

When I was a little girl, I used to love to hang out in the garden. I used to sit with my feet in the dirt and soak up the sun, and just be thankful to be alive. I loved the world, I loved everyone in it, and there's just something about the summer afternoons with the vegetables that just makes me feel "alive"!

So I've decided to do it. I'm taking the leap, and my family is very supportive of this. I've always seen my place in the garden to be to push the boundaries, and finally, I've found someone, a gardener and a horticultural specialist, to declare me a tomato.

I have painted my legs green, and my hair also, and just LOVE the new look! And I've got the most perfectly red-orange dress, rounded out and fitted in at the hem to appear to be bulging. Once I'm settled and hanging out in the summer sun for awhile, my complexion will turn red, too, so the transformation can be complete.

I'm not going to take any vows of obedience to the gardener-horticulturist who is declaring my status--he's just a tool in the shed, and I'm just using his "authority". I declare as my authority only the dirt I stick my feet in because that's what makes us grow. Just the dirt and the minerals are my guide. Now, I haven't actually bothered to study how they work, or what the minerals actually are, but I'm sure that it'll work just fine once I'm firmly planted.

My spot is all picked out and I'll be starting tomorrow. I've already been growing in the garden for weeks, but I'm just now coming out about it, and the ceremony with the gardener is going to make it formal.

It's ridiculous that so many people say that I can't be a tomato. They're just old-fashioned, and they don't understand. What a bunch of Creationists. I'm the Creator! I get to decide because I've discerned that those who are in charge of the gardener and the vegetables don't know what they're talking about After all, I took a class in landscaping and horticulture and it's perfectly ok for me to become a tomatoe.

Well, the dirt is calling me, I must be getting to my ministry in the garden. The cucumbers are clamboring for attention and the sugar snap peas seem a little wrinkled...they could use some enlightenment. Maybe I'll tell them that they can become grapes if that will make them feel more fulfilled.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: If a bunch of misguided women can be "ordained" a "Roman Catholic priestess" then I can certainly have a gardener declare me a tomato. The "ceremony" carries just as much substance and the transformation is just as "real". And if were're going to talk reality, they are no more "priests" than I am a tomato. Unfortunately, since they cannot consecrate the bread and wine into the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ, they are adoring only pieces of bread, thus they have also made themselves idolators. Please pray for them.

At least if they had been sensible and declared themselves to be some form of fruit or vegetable, we could offer them medication to treat their disorder, but unfortunately, only prayer and fasting can cure what they have...spiritual sickness. Please keep these women in your prayers and all those they may lead astray. Pray Divine Mercy, for the Lord is merciful, thus there is time for conversion.

Attire for Mass

This post is not likely to be what you think it is.

This morning at Mass, I saw a man walking up the aisle with his two little girls, both dressed in what appeared to be dance constumes. They had short skirts, glittery tops, and they of course, matched. The girls were of different ages. Now, the dance costumes were quite cute, but to myself, I grumbled about "innapropriate attire" for Mass.

Then I thought back to when I was a little girl, and I almost giggled out loud!

I realized that the man with the little girls did not have his wife with him, and that could serve as an explanation.

When I was a little girl, usually Mom dressed me in the morning for Mass. Well, one night she had to work so my Dad, himself a Lutheran, had to agree to bring my brother and I to Church in the morning, and she would meet us there. She did not have time to come home and still make it to Mass on time.

So that Saturday evening, I told Dad that I wanted to dress myself. He was affable to this, having no idea that Mom usually "assisted" in this matter.

Well, the next morning, I got prepared for Mass. I picked out my favorite dress, then as I was about to put it on, I realized that it had buttons. No problem. I just put the buttons in the front. I didn't want to need any help and I didn't see why it mattered where the buttons went. After all, it was a dress. (It was also a summer dress and it was winter outside, snow included).

I solved the problme of the light cotton shift...I wore my leg-warmers. I wanted to be sure to stay warm!

I think I also wore either a cardigan of a clashing color, or maybe a knitted poncho.

And I wore my purple moon boots. I LOVED my purple moon boots.

I was SO proud of my outfit! I dressed myself and I didn't need any help at all!

So we trooped into Mass, and when I saw Mom standing just outside the sanctuary, I flew into her appalled arms and announced loudly, "Mommy! I dressed myself!"

She, and everyone in the whole church knew it when we entered with my very embarassed mother. There wasn't time to go to the bathroom to correct my backwards dress, and so she was forced to take me to Mass attired as I was.

As I understand it, she was very upset with my father, the poor man, who had been duped by a child and of course thought that my outfit was hilarious. He was highly entertained by my antics. Mom...not so much.

I wasn't allowed to dress myself for a very long time.

And so I considered that father at Mass today, and my heart goes out to him...clearly he was talked into letting his little girls dress like ballerinas today, and maybe he was relieved,...at least they were wearing skirts.

So the next time you see a single parent (sorry guys, but especially a single father) at Mass with improperly attired children, try to stifle your giggles and cut the guy a break...he likely got outsmarted, and maybe thinks that his daughters are the cutest things he's ever seen!

For myself, I was "Daddy's Girl" and I think that helped me in my manipulation of the family system...fathers, beware your little girls!

Until Further Notice....

...The desert is being relocated to the upper Midwest.

I've visited the desert, and truth be told, I fell in love. So much so that I considered putting in for a transfer so that I could spend more time there. Although I hate tarantulas (spiders in general and those are HUGE), and even though scorpions creep me out and leave a painful bite, I was completely enraptured when I experienced the desert.

Of course, those times I spent in the Phoenix, AZ area were limitd to September, October, and April, and of course, that's probably the best time of year to be there.

I came to realize, though, that God provides us air conditions for roughly 7-8 months out of the year in the form of winter, and as a lover of flying down a hill as quickly as possible on two waxed pieces of wood and composites, I cannot live in the desert.

Well, apparently Arizona missed me, for he has come to visit. Sorry, all. I didn't realize that the enrapturement went both ways.

In this drought we are experiencing, it takes nothing to kick up a dust devil and I think a tumbleweed attacked my dog on our walk this morning. The grass is quickly browning and the 100 degree heat has convinced me that I'm not so much a desert kind of girl...I'm more of a winter type of girl. Or fall. I love fall. (Not fall-ing, mind you, just fall, as in autumn). I love crisp 50 degree weather with the changing leaves littering the ground and floating on the breeze. I love the fact that here in MN, spiders don't grow to the size of coyotes, and scorpions are creatures made to be sealed into paperweights.

The only thing that doesn't really fit with the desert heat is the humidity. I've experienced worse...in Puerto Escondido, Mexico (it was dry there, too), but at least we had the ocean to swim in and the morning and evening breeze coming of the ocean was refreshing in comparison to the hot, humid puffs of air we currently experience.

They were saying in the last "heat wave" (which has not really left) that it's been 11 years since we experienced the triple digits up here, and in fact, I remember that day because I got heat exhaustion. I went on my typical 3 mile run, although I walked a lot that day. But I was dehydrated to start out with and too stupid and prideful to quit. I thought that when I grew tired I was only having a bad day and I hit "the wall". I pushed myself by continuing to my turn around point, when I should have stopped long before.

I was so hot that I took my headphones off...even they bothered me. I had never before realized how little shade there was on that road, and of course, I had no idea that the heat had surpassed 100 degrees. At some point, my head pounding, blackness crowding in at the edge of my vision, I realized that something was wrong. And although I desperately wanted to sit down, I also realized that there wasn't a lot of traffic and I needed to get home..so I kept walking, one foot in front of the other.

When I walked into my air-conditioned apartment, I hit the floor and just laid there for awhile...actually on the edge of consciousness.

Knowing what I know now, I should have been in a hospital.

I'm feeling much better now. *wink*

Of course, I learned something that day...check the weather report! It was 102 with dew points in the upper 90's, and I had no business going for a run that day. What an idiot.

The following summer was hot as well, and I remember it well because I had law enforcement training and lived in a shabby apartment without AC...and I did a LOT of outdoor running that summer! Of course, having nearly killed myself the summer prior, I knew better than to run when it was too hot, and even our instructors modified the regimen on certain afternoons.

I do prefer the desert heat to the midwestern heat, although I'd far rather live in good old Minnesota, even with our harsh winters, than, say, in "Hotlanta". (hat-tip to my friends in Atlanda).

Thus ends my commentary on the present state of the weather in my state.

I'm getting redundant in my vocabulary now so I guess it's time to go to sleep so I can regenerate new words like the one I thought I made up this week..."pursual" only to find that it's in the dictionary. *sigh*.

I need a nap. Good night!

If These People only Understood....They Would Come HOME

I read this article in the local Strib today, and it made my heart ache for those who truely don't understand. They are seeking healing, and perhaps they are recieving it, for the Lord is merciful and our seperated bretheren also share in salvation, as members of the Church.

But if they only realized they could reach Jesus himself...they could literally kneel or lie prostate at his actual feet...if they could recieve his physical presence, every day if they wanted, and even more than once!

Here is the link to the full article, but I am going to pull out only a few highlights for your consideration.

Adolphus, who grew up Catholic in Long Island, N.Y., recently joined Cedar Valley, a 2,000-member Assemblies of God church.

"I'd always been a Christian, but more and more I felt drawn to Jesus himself," she said, and to Pentecostal worship.

She says she grew up Catholic and is drawn to Jesus himself...apparently she was not taught that Jesus is fully present in the Eucharist, body, blood, soul, and divinity. He is not present, physically, in the Pentecostal church, where she is seeking emotional response. Jesus is NOT about emotion...he is reality, he is true, and he is PRESENT in EVERY tabernacle in EVERY Catholic Church.

As far as Pentecostal worship...she can find what she is describing in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, and learn that the Lord does not need our emotions in order to heal our souls, although He welcomes our emotions as gifts in worship to Himself.

I'm first to admit I'm an emotional person...I'm a complete crybaby. Sometimes, when the Blessed Sacrament is brought out, I recognize Jesus deep within my soul, and I can do nothing by cry. I can't stop the tears and words defy me. Jesus doesn't need my words for he already knows my wounds.

And so I say to people such as Ms. Adolphus, COME HOME! If you are looking for Jesus, and you seek his presence, COME HOME, He is WAITING FOR YOU WITH OPEN ARMS!

The Rev. Bob Battle, who leads 200 Pentecostal believers at St. Paul's Berean Church, part of the Church of God in Christ denomination, said credit for Pentecostalism's growth should go to the Holy Spirit.

"Jesus lived in a particular place and time, but the Holy Ghost is everywhere, all the time," he said. "He dwells within us and does things that marvel man."



I think that it just proves that the Holy Spirit can still work through those who have historically rejected the Church, and proves that the Lord does not will anyone into Hell...He reaches out to people where they are, and if they are paying attention, and truly seeking, they will find their way to Rome. But they must be called Home...only God knows how this works. The rest of us can only pray.

I do have to call attention to this: yes, Jesus lived in a particular place and time, and He sent his Advocate, the third person of the Trininty, to dwell within us...but He is still present with us, physically. He is in the Eucharist, the Blessed Sacrament and remains with us. Remember the apostles recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, as do we. He is there, He is present, even today. Jesus himself has never left us, and we only understand this THROUGH the Advocate.

There is no doubt that these are our brothers and sisters...and as Catholics, we have to understand how we can help bring them home. They are sincere in their beliefs, and sincere in their worship, and God honors sincerity. He does not hold them responsible for what they have not been taught.

It is our place as Catholics to live as an example, and love people into the Church; to help them understand that Jesus is here, He is fully present, and that no matter what they worship style or favorite spirituality, they have a home in the Church.

Let us pray these people home, my friends...they are our relatives and the Lord is holding a special place for them at the feast we all celebrate...every day.

The Disordered Objectification

I deal with crime victims and fraudmongers. That's what I get paid to do. And I don't know how much of my tongue will be missing when God finally gets me out of this job.

Some time ago, I blogged about a man from Iraq, a fan of Saddam Hussein, who compared his car being stolen to someeone having sex with his wife. He said he would not want her anymore after this, and actually SAID that it was like someone was having sex with his car.

(I wish I could banish the mental image that came so unbidden!)

I was offended by this...highly offended, but given his political and moral hero, I let it go realizing that the man may very well be deranged due to his cultural origins and political indoctrination, and thus perhaps he had reason (although wrong) for his disordered thought.

Then just this week, I spoke with a man, AMERICAN grew up here, and he said nearly the same thing. He compared his car to his girlfriend. He said that he wasn't sure that he would want his car back because it felt like the same thing as someone having sex with his girlfriend. He stopped just short of saying that it's like someone having sex with his car. I simply interrupted him and moved on to the next item of business.

I had to tightly reign in my very strong desire to reach through the phone, grab this asshole by the throat and explain to him that as a woman, I am not an object, neither is his girlfriend. 'Scuse the French, and no offense to those from France.

I would like to make something very, very very clear:

* A car is an object. It is a thing that is thus acted upon in order to be of any use at all.

* A woman is NOT an object. She is a person, and she has priceless value which does not require being acted upon in order to make her valuable.


Has this been understood by everyone? A WOMAN IS *NOT* AN OBJECT!

If your house is broken into, if your wallet is stolen, if your car, motorcycle, etc., is stolen, and you DARE to compare this to someone having sex with your girlfriend or wife, then you have a very serious problem. This is so disordered it is far beyond words.

Anyone who compares their girlfriend or wife to an object has clearly underscored the fact that they have objectified this priceless woman in their life. They have proven what Pope John Paul the Great said in Theology of the Body, and it PROVES beyond a doubt that radical feminism has failed. It PROVES that the prolific use of sex to define a relationship, and ourselves in relation to another or to ourselves has done NOTHING but deman us from being human to being mere objects.

Men, the women in your life are not cars, and if you see them as such, it proves you are using them. Stop doing this, take a serious self-inventory, amd realize that men and women who do not treat each other as objects are infinitely healthier in mind, body, and soul.

If you are one of these people who compares the car or other object to the woman, then realize you are living a double standard. Most of us own cars which have had other owners. Most people have multiple sexual partners in today's culture, thus the woman (or man) comes already "used". This has done nothing to further the value of life in our society, but rather, demeans it so completely so as to make it comparable only to whatever handy thing can be used and discarded without another thought.

If anyone ever again makes the mistake of making this satanic comparison, damn the recorder and damn the professionalism that censures my sharing of the truth. I'm not sure I can afford to lose another piece of my tongue just to keep my job...for without a tongue to speak to God's glory, then what good am I?

Oh, that's right...I'm a woman. As a woman I have infinite value. I cannot be compared to a heifer, a cow, a car, or a house. I am worth far more, and if you can't bother to buy me a ring, then your value as a man ain't even worth the ground I walk on.

This is a two way street...we need to bring respect for ourselves, our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit, and respect for each other back into the culture.

Maybe the culture won't value us, and maybe we'll go dateless or husbandless or wifeless for taking the high moral ground. But Jesus never said it would be easy...he only said that He'd be with us. So let's all get a backbone and if you hear anyone in your life spitting out the vile trash that betrays their objectification of people in their lives they claim to care about, then let them have it with both verbal barrels. This cannot continue in our culture. We are children of God, and we should start behaving as the royalty we are, as opposed to the barbarians we have so often chosen to be.

The Bible is Patriarchal and Oppressive to Women

"The Bible and Christianity are Patriarchal, demeaning, and oppressive to women. Christianity is intolerant to women and thus women should revolt against this ideology."

How many of us have heard the above claims? How many of us have looked to scripture to read it for ourselves, and have been outraged by, for example, the directives of the apostle Paul when he stated that women must be quiet and are not allowed to teach?

How accurate are these claims?

Let us look to the Bible itself for the answers.

If we look at historical fact, throughout the Bible, men were the heads of families and were the leaders. Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon, Joseph. Thus, it stands to reason and historical fact that the Bible is indeed patriarchal. But does this necessarily mean that women are oppressed and demeaned?

Let us look to Genesis 1:26-27

"Then God said 'Let us make man in our image, after our likemess, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air..'

"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them"

Notice the references here and the wording: God created not just MAN, but MAN AND WOMAN in HIS image; He created a MARRIED COUPLE to reflect God. This is the Divine Institution not only of the life of humankind, but of marriage, and women was included in this Divine plan. It was not Adam alone, but Eve who made up God's image, and thus, women are a part of this creation story, not demeaned but fully equal in the benefits provided by God. Arguing the idea that the male gender was created first is like twins arguing about who is greater due to which emerged first from the womb. They were created equally and with the intention of reflecting God's image in their own union, man and wife.

Genesis 2 discusses Eve's role as "helper", but what does this mean? Does this mean that woman is designed to be only a servant?

If we look to the rest of the Bible and the use of the word "helper" we see that this word has a deeper meaning and should not be taken at face value. Remember that society and culture changes the meanings of words to fit their culture and thus the original meaning may be lost. This is why the full context of the Bible and the history surrounding the Bible must be called upon in order to understand these words which we incorrectly take for granted.

Throughout the Old Testament, God himself is referred to as "helper". Only page through the Psalms to see this reference over and over again. If we, then decide that in Genesis that "helper" is demeaning and signifies that Eve is submissive to Adam in value, then do we then change the interpretation of "helper" in the Psalms and other books and interpret that God is also submissive to Adam?

How ridiculous an idea!

The reality is that we need to consider this context and realize that the denotion "helper" or "helpmate" refers to the fulfillment of divine orchestration; women are not submissive, but are even more like God than is Adam for we are compared to God in our very design...as "helper" to the "Adams" in our lives.

Let us move forward to the Fall.

Notice that the serpent, Satan, went to Eve, not to Adam. Did Eve ever confer with Adam when the serpent suggested she partake of the forbidden fruit, as would a submissive partner? No, she makes the decision on her own, and in fact, she ATTEMPTS TO RESIST the persuasiveness of the serpent. When she does partake of the fruit, and then offers it to Adam, does he resist?

NO! Adam does whatever Eve tells him to do, and he does not resist. He does not reiterate what God directly told him, and what he then related to Eve...he simply obeys Eve and partakes of the fruit he knows is forbidden.

Later, when God confronts Adam, Adam acts like a typical male as we know them today, and he blames Eve. He takes no responsibility and in fact, we realize that he DID NOT EVEN BOTHER TO RESIST when he KNEW the act of eating the fruit was wrong! ADAM was given the command not to eat the fruit first, not Eve, and yet he does not resist when she offers it to him!

This actions displays the chasm created by the fall; that sin seperates relationships not only from God, but from each other.

How, exactly, is this reality oppressive to women?

Does it not show the power women have OVER men? Do you realize why the serpent went to Eve? Because he recognized Eve's role in God's Divine plan...and that if he got to her, he automatically had Adam.

For a more contemporary reference, look to "My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding."

In that movie, Tula wants to go to school but her pleas are met with resistance and a chauvenistic attitude on the part of her father. But Tula's mother stepped in and she hugged Tula, comforting her, explaining she understood. She told the young woman, "The Man? He is the head. But the woman...she is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants."

I'm certain that this movie did not set out to reveal to modern audiences the true role of Woman in God's Divine plan, but just the same, this line sets it up pretty well. Men may be the heads of households, and they may be the leaders...but have you not heard it said that behind every man is a good woman? Without us, men would be nothing but so much dust.

Unfortunately, that means we hold the higher responsibility...as we have the "greater" role in God's divine plan, we also must be cognizant of our authority and our power, and use it wisely. I do not mean to say that God created women as a higher order to men, but rather, within the context of our own specific role in salvation history. That's actually a topic for another post.

If we skip forward to the New Testament, the Wedding at Caana, we see Mary's role even more clearly. Remember how she asks Jesus to do something when the wine runs out. Jesus says to her, "Woman, what have you to do with me? My hour is not yet come."

And like a good Jewish mother [tongue in cheek here], she ignores him and tells the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."

Jesus, the humble and obedient son he is, submits to his mother and he orders the servants to bring him the water, which he subesquently changes into wine.

Clearly, Mary knew who Jesus was (as though she was informed by an angel that she would carry the Messiah!), and as a good mother, and a good woman in fulfillment of God's plan for her role, she pushed Jesus into his ministry. He protested...and she pushed. Good mothers push. Men, take note.

Because of Mary's influence, Jesus performed his first miracle. Look at how this mirrors and reverses the actions of Eve:



* Eve was approached by and seduced by the serpent to FALL from grace; she was the catalyst and the beginning of sin. She had free will, and she gave in to sin rather than obedience to God. She gave in to pleasure and pride.

* Mary was approached by and recieved the message of an angel of God to RECIEVE the grace of bringing the messiah into the world; that is, the cure for sin. She had free will, and she accepted with her fiat in obedience to God. She offered her own suffering in humility and love.

Now, I realize there is a great deal more to the story of the Wedding at Caana...after all, it is one of the two pillars upon which the Gospel of John rests! As that is not my current topic, I will not go into further detail within the context of women in the Church but you may find more on this post which focuses specifically on John 2:1-11.

Moving on, we look at Jesus Christ's Passion. All of the apostles, all of them male, (all but one, John,) fled when Jesus was persecuted. They could not watch. They feared for their lives, and although they had promised fidelity, they fled. So much for the strong, brave patriarchy of the Bible!

I'm afraid that the "Bible" displayed nothing but the nature of men...a bunch of cowards who ran away when the chips were down! I do not mean to demean men at all and I fear by that statement that I have ruffled feathers, but consider the Biblical context here in reference to the nature God has given us all, respectively as men and women.

It was the women who remained at the foot of the Cross. It was Jesus's mother, Mary, the other Mary, and Mary Magdalene who remained at the foot of the Cross, with only the Apostle John, the beloved disciple.

And it was Mary Magdalene who went early to the tomb and discovered the greatest event in history...the Resurrection of Jesus. It was not a man..it was a woman.

In that time period, women were not considered to be reliable and they were not allowed to be witnesses in court. Yet Jesus used women as his strongest witnesses, and it was women who were a part of his greatest works.

Jesus directed Mary to bring the apostles to a particular location, so we see that he relied on women to bring the men to him. He relied on the women, to whom he has given a special gift of faith, to bring the men to him to become spiritual leaders.

Men did not do this on their own, and they disbelieved, they questioned, and they ran from the conflict...but the women gathered them and lead them back to Jesus.

Now, one major issue is St. Paul himself:  He really comes across as a big chauvenist pig, doesn't he?! Or...is our interpretation accurate?

In 1 Timothy 2: 11-13, Paul says, "Let a woman learn in silence with al submissiveness. I permit no wman to teach or to have authority over men; she is to keep silent. For Adam was formed first, then Eve, and Adam was not decieved , but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor. yet woman will be saved through bearing children. If she continues in faith and love and holiness, with modesty."

It seems that Paul is saying that women should remain silent, barefoot, and pregnant. Is he really?

Consider the historical context: Paul wrote this letter for a specific purpose. In that time period, women were not educated and were not allowed to be educated, yet Paul is stating very clearly that he was allowing women to learn. The rest of the statement is not about domination of women, but is a discussion of proper behavior. The men, long accustomed to education, knew how to behave in a classroom. The women did not and were quite unruly. Who could blame them?

In our culture, we learn early how to behave in a classroom, but if we were deprived of the right to education, would we not be excited at the opportunity and would not our inappropriate reaction be classified as unruliness? Would we not need to be taught proper manners?

This is the case here. Paul is not saying that women cannot learn and cannot teach...he is explaining to them the etiquette of the classroom.

As for the authority...well, it would not be proper in that society for a woman to be publicly teaching with her husband as a student. This would be considered to be scandalous. A woman could teach a man, but she could not appear to have authority over her husband, specifically, in public. Again, this is an instruction in etiquette.

Let us also remember that women are encouraged to be celibate, as are men, for the sake of the kingdom of God. 1 Cornithians 7 disusses marriage and the single life, and this was revolutionary. Women in that time period were considered to be property; first of her father, then of her husband. Yet Christianity changed this; women in Christianity were given options and they learned that they had the right to choose not to marry; not to be property, but rather, to give their lives to God and remain single and celibate.

Let's remove the romance from the idea of history; women did not have a choice in marriage and they did not marry for "love". They married because they were forced to marry. Consider maybe a local businesman or some neighbor...maybe you are 17 or 15, or even 20...and he is 56, fat, hairy and not at all attractive. And in Biblical times, people didn't bathe a lot. Yuck. Yet you have to marry him and become his property. And maybe he has a heavy hand, or maybe he's completely self-absorbed but makes eyes at you every time he sees you. Is your skin crawling yet?

If you lived prior to Christianity, your only option to escape a life with this man would be death...otherwise, be prepared for your marriage bed because he's about to own you.

Christianity changed this...not only did Christianity propose an option to the bloody, sacrificial and self-indulgent idols of the time and give a message of hope and freedom, but it restored the dignity of women and revealed God's plan. The pagans were very disturbed by this...they liked having control, and they liked the idea they could buy the local village virgin for themselves. Women obtained freedom through Jesus and His Word, and they learned they could choose celibacy...and escape from false authority over their bodies and lives.

The next time someone claims that Christianity is patriarchal and that Christianity is demeaning to women, hand them a Bible and explain to them God's Divine plan and the evidence within the text which so clearly refutes their claims. Men and women are co-equal in God's plan of salvation; we each have clearly defined roles, clearly defined natures, and each one of us is called to live out God's plan within this context.

It's not about men versus women...it's about men and women together, reflecting the glory of God for eternity!

EDITOR'S NOTE: The above information was obtained at a talk by Dr. Mary Healy at the Called to Lead Conference in Wayzata, MN, 2006. www.calledtolead.com

I am not a theologian, and I have never had the opportunity to attend a Bible study, so boy howdy, I'm like a kid in a candy store! If there are errors in theology in this post, please help me correct them, even better if you have Biblical references to fit the correct context.

UPDATE: 1-23-2010:  I graduated from Ave Maria University with a Masters in Theological Studies in June, 2010. Guess I'm a theologian now.  ;-)  Having read through this old post, it still stands and perhaps another is forthcoming when I get a round tuit.  ;-)   This remains one of my most statistically popular posts, ever since it was first posted.

The Called to Lead Conference

I just need to say that I'm extremely disappointed in the conference in only one regard...not enough local Catholics attended. Most of the people I met were from OTHER STATES!

This is completely unacceptable, and I am now demanding that all you locals put this conference on your calender for next July. Believe you me, this is a conference well worth attending and I told the pastor at my parish that he needs to send people next year. Then I gave him one of the CD's made from a talk given by Mother Assumpta on the Virtues of a Parish leader as a fine example of what to expect at this conference.

There are three different "tracks", or categories that the various talks fall into; Leadership, Scripture, or Evangelization. I attended talks in all three categories and honestly, I'm still trying to intellectually digest what I have learned, and whenever I think about it, I am set on fire. I can't wait to share this knowledge, but I want to do it in a way that will make sense.

This conference is all about sending us out to carry out the Word to others in whatever capacity we may need to fulfill. It is designed to assist our own mental and spiritual health if we work in parish ministry, or to bolster our knowledge of scripture whether personally or in the context of formal Bible Study leadership. We are all called to be evangelists, and thus all categories actually fall under this heading. Truth be told, they are all one and the same...we cannot preach the Gospel to others without being an evangelist. We are all leaders in some way, even if only in the home for our children, or at work, in speaking to an individual. We are called to lead others to Jesus Christ, and boy howdy, I am ready to GO! :-)

My plan at this point is to highlight some of the talks I attended in order to pass on some of this invaluable information. I am purchasing some of the CD's because the knowledge contained within is well worth hearing again..and again...and again.

Those of you who know me can expect to be able to borrow some of these CD's...and once you do, realize that you will WANT to come to this conference next year. It's not possible to know enough about our faith...we need to be constantly learning because that is what keeps the fire of the Holy Spirit burning within us. And that fire is visible to others, which of course draws them to us...and we call those who are drawn to us "converts".

Point taken? Good.

I will summarize with one final point.

GO TO THIS CONFERENCE NEXT YEAR!

Yours, in Christ Jesus

A brief interlude

I was going to blog about the Called to Lead conference I am attending this weekend, but I feel called to discuss something else. The issue is this...I think I need to spend some time thinking about what I learned today, and perhaps then I can present it in a more informative and thoughtful manner. In the meantime, I'm going to talk about one of my favorite movies.

The Green Mile, by Stephen King

Of course, the book is better, but I have absolutely ZERO complaints about the movie.

I read somewhere that Stephen King can actually be considered to be one of the great American writers due to his ability to capture a time period in our history in such a way that it provides a snapshot. We understand the picture and those who lived in those time periods find the descriptions accurate.

That said, let's talk about my subject. I read this book in college, and loved it, and when the movie came out, I stood in line to see it.

For those who don't know the storyline or perhaps have been scared away thinking it's a horror movie...rest assured, it is not a horror. Parts are horrible, yes, and that is because they show a bit of truth about the lives we live and the attitudes expressed...and when we face those attitudes in full color, the only correct response is to be horrified.

The story takes place on death row and features a very special inmate...a man given a special gift from God, one he takes seriously, and because of where this gift lead him, he is condemned for a crime he did not committ. And we went as a lamb to the slaughter.

This movie does not make apologies for or attempt to excuse the crimes committed by the death row inmates. It does not discuss the moral implications of the death penalty, but only accepts the reality in this place as a foregone conclusion, one we must accept in order to become one with the plot and identify with the main character.

The people who work on "the Mile", the term for Block E, or death row, are filled with compassion and walk each day carrying the weight of what they do for a living and we see them as people; as good men forced to deal with reality and still carrying on.

The movie does not discuss religion, but there is no question of God or His existance. There is no question about the reality of consequences, for their jobs are all about consequences.

There is a point in the movie where Percy, the guy who causes all the problems (where is a story without an active antagonist?) attends his first execution. Afterwards, he is alone with the body and he makes snide remarks towards the deceased man, and is caught in the act.

One of the guards snatches him away from the corpse and demans that Percy let him be, stating, "He's paid what he owed; he's square with the house again!"

This sums up one of the issues I love about this movie...all of the characters have their dignity and their humanity. Even approaching and after the completion of the state-ordered death, they are treated with respect.

There is a point in the movie which never fails to make me cry; the execution of Delacroix, the botched execution. Those who have seen the movie know what I'm talking about...we almost must watch, for the brutality of capital punishment is addressed here; the inhumanity and the reality that once the switch is thrown, mercy is gone...the only mercy is to keep going and face the consequences. It is then that the irony of the comments of the witnesses is realized and even they cannnot stomach the reality of what they wished for upon learning of the murders by this very man of their loved ones.

And then the main character...the protagonist. A gift from God, a man with little intelligence, but a large, humble heart and healing hands. Religion is never discussed, although we get the impression of Christianity given the context of the movie, and even Catholicism, in the case of one lady who is healed by this man.

It comes to the fact that this gift of God must be executed, and those who understand who and what he is, and realize his innocence and condemnation are faced with a moral dilemma...proceed with this evil of executing an innnocent lamb...or do their jobs? And so the decision is given to the protagonist, and he responds in the only way he can.

I lvoe this movie..it meets issues head-on without being political or partisan; it addresses God without being religious yet not wavering in faith or drawing any doubt about our Creator. THe attitudes, expressions, background, and reality of the time is described inerringly (seemlingly for one who was born in the 70's), and we are thus drawn into this story and when it ends, if we have not questioned certain issues surrounding the death penalty...we do now.

Stephen King did not set out to make a political commentary; he only sought to tell a good story and in this he has succeeded. This is one of his best works and I highly recommend this book especially for those who think that King is all about the horror genre...he may actually surprise you.