On Worry and Trust in God

As my regular readers know, I recently gave notice at my job, and my last day is August 3rd. I have nowhwere to go...yet. Then my Greyhound required some emergency vet bills, some ongoing treatment to control infection and pain, and this is still ongoing. And the deadline for Grad school registration is coming up.

By nature, I'm a worry-wart. I can't make decisions without great agony and without the sense of a worry-knife twisting in my gut, reminding me that I'm likely making a bad decision with bad repurcussions. Sometimes that knife-twist is right, but more often, it's wrong, as Et-tu Jen points out in her post.

Some of the best advice I've heard in recent years came from a homily our priest gave last December. He was talking about worry, and threw out some amazing statistics about what people worry about: I don't recall the exact numbers, but the majority of things that people worry about are future events -- and at least half of those never even happen.

So I resolved to stop worrying about the future so much, and the results have been really interesting. I never cease to be amazed at how often things that I was just sure were going to happen ended up playing out entirely differently than I'd expected, weren't as bad as I thought, or never even happened at all. At least a few times a month I find myself thinking, "Wow, I'm glad I didn't waste time worrying about that, since it's all moot now." (Which is not to say, of course, that I don't have any problems! Just that things often happen differently than I would have expected.)

(Go read the rest. Well worth it!)

She sure got my attention with that post...what she says is so true and this truth has been born out time and time again. And yet I worry.

Of late, whenever worry has started to eat at me, typically it's been about odd things, not the big ones. Such as; I need to go shopping for clothing for a different job, for a new interview suit as my old one no longer fits and can't be tailored, what am I going to do for food when my money runs out..etc.

I have some friends who can offer me some part time retail work, no bennies, but the cash will pay some bills. And I could find on call and PT work, or $8.00/ hour work...so the basics will be there. I have friends who would invite me over for dinner, I have frozen and canned food to last awhile, and I can call the utility companies and my lienholders to discuss options before things get out of control.

When I worry about these little things, then, this is what continually comes to mind:

MT 6:

25 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?
27 Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?
28 Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. 29 But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them.
30 If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?
31 So do not worry and say, 'What are we to eat?' or 'What are we to drink?' or 'What are we to wear?' 32 All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom (of God) and his righteousness, 19 and all these things will be given you besides.
34 Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.

Here's what's so ironic; I'm not worrying about what I SHOULD be worrying about, and that, at its very core, is worrisome. I could lose my house, thus destroy my credit, destroy any credibility I have with my extended family (I'm already the black sheep of my generation so how much credibility I have is already in question), I could get my car repossessed, thuse losing any ability to get to work, to the job I don't have yet...etc.

Yet I'm not worried. Have I gone BEYOND worry into complete insanity? I should be worried about all those things, but no, it's the small things in life that have me concerned. No, I have not learned to live in the present, but of late I've read a few things that have given me some perspective.

Are you aware that in Europe, they traditionally have shorter working hours and a typical vacation allowance of six weeks? SIX WEEKS! Of VACATION TIME! That completely blows me away. Here in the U.S., were lucky to get two weeks of vacation allowance, and often sick time is rolled into that time off. And if we miss too many days, even for legitimate reasons that can be backed up, employers often have the right to let us go for "absenteeism".

When taking this under advisement, and considering all the people, typically in high-stress but well-paid professions, who take "Sabbaticals", I've come to realize that perhaps what I need is a "Sabbatical" and this is going to be provided to me, whether I want it or not, and if God has decided that this is what I need, then He will provide for my NEEDS...not my wants. This is going to be a period of simplification, and I'm the first to admit I need it.

The last time I was unemployed, it was due to injury and I was paid a Work Comp wage, which was adequate as I did not own a house at the time. I had to report to a counselor every week, who told me I had to document 8 hours per day of job searching, I had to come in every other week to "prove" I was seeking employment, and she was completely unqualified to judge what I was or was not doing because her knowledge did not extend to goverment jobs. (ie: if one calls, say, a county office every week to inquire about the status of an app, when each applicant is told up front in writing what that status will be and how long it will take, etc...well, said applicant is likely to get theri app lost somewhere). I had to explain this process over and over. I have a degree in Criminal Justice...so I can work in government offices. Which has a very specific hiring process. It was a miserable summer, I didn't have God although I was in the process of conversion, and in hindsight, I saw a lot of things I could have done had I not been wasting so much time arguing with Work Comp people who had no idea what they were doing. In their defense, they really dealt with a lot of people who were not educated and who did not know how to seek employment. I didn't fit their profile and squirmed under their scrutiny.

And the irony...oh, the irony! When I finally was offered a position, with the company I am now leaving, my counselor asked me, "Do you think you'll be happy doing that? Handling claims? Working for an insurance company?"

This, from a woman who told me I should go flip burgers, which would NOT have been "indemnification". This, from a woman who went out of her way to clip job ads from a newspaper without reading them in light of my qualification and experience. This, from a woman who wanted so badly to be rid of me she suggested I apply to be a Wilderness Counselor or a Police Captain. (My reply: I couldn't lead myself out of the wilderness, much less a bunch of wayward delinquents, and for the latter...whose world are you living in?)

I had to waste time writing letters in my defense as the employment wheels turned, I bombed several interviews, and finally got the job that has made me miserable for the last five years. And I took it out of pressure, because I was desperate to get out of my situation. It was the first offer to come along, and I know darn well that had I turned it down, I would have been absolutely crucified.

So I have to admit that I'm entering this time of unemployment with a sense of freedom, recognizing I could lose my house, but thrilled I don't have to lose my mind. Thrilled that this time, no one is breathing down my neck. If the creditors do, so be it. Right now my credit is excellent and I'll work hard to keep it so. But for now, I'm fine. For now, I have hope, and a sense that I should batten down the hatches and prepare to live an austere existence for the next couple months.

Hopefully I'll find a good job, though, by the end of August. I'm well qualified for many things,and after this sabbatical I'm taking, I'll be able to enter the workforce with renewed energy, confidance, and a sense of purpose.

We all need a break. I'm taking mine now, and all I can do is trust in God.

Is this that fabled "sense of peace" people refer to with regard to discernment?

I apologize this is getting long, but sorry, I'm not done yet. My opinion and meandering rages on...

From Jen's post:

I was reminded of all this when I came across a wonderful excerpt from "The Secret of a Happy Life", by Fr. Lasance over at one of my favorite blogs, Starry Sky Ranch. It's so beautiful...and so true...and so something I really need to remember in the coming months:


One secret of a sweet and happy Christian life is learning to live by the day...Life does not come to us all at one time; it comes only a day at a time. Even tomorrow is never ours until it becomes today, and we have nothing whatever to do with it but to pass down to is a fair and good inheritance in today's work well done, and today's life well lived.

It is a blessed secret this, of living by the day. Any one can carry his burden, however heavy, till nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however heavy, till nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, until the sun goes down. And this is all life ever means to us - just one little day. "Do today's duty; fight today's temptations, and do not weaken or distract yourself by looking forward to things you cannot see and could not understand if you saw them." God gives us nights to shut down upon our little days. We cannot see beyond. Short horizons make life easier and give us one of the blessed secrets of brave, true, holy living.


Oh, yes, what a quote with regard to worry! Also the reason I'm not a saint.

Living in the present; choosing the right thing at every moment. I'm thrilled, and so is God, if I can go 30 seconds without giving in to some type of everyday temptation. Big not-so-secret thing about me; each day is a struggle in this walk to holiness. Each day presents challenges I either cannot or refuse to overcome, because I'm way to comfortable in my regular habits and vices. I'm way too comfortable with my favorite sins. I highly doubt that this problem will come to an end with the job. The temptations will change; my ability to handle them will not, so I pray that I do go to Mass every day, that I do work to cultivate a deeper prayer life, that I do committ to making a schedule and keeping it, so as to maintain some sort of discipline to keep my life afloat and respectful.

I should be worrying about all these things, but I'm not. And yet, I can't say I entirely trust in God, although this experience may bring me closer to this goal.

It's all about trust in God, and while I say I trust Him, I have serious reservations I'm fighting to overcome. But God is faithful, even in cleaning up the messes we make. Are you willing to come along with me on this ride? All for the glory of God...because for me, there will only be humiliation should my worries come to pass, and God cannot be blamed for my own mistakes. All I can do is trust, and pray, and go on.

Life is a gift....all I want is to find that gift again.

Early Morning Update on Fire

I am calling the vet today.

Last night, Fire would not go upstairs with us. It has become his habit of late, to pause, gather himself, which might involve a little uncertain pacing, and then carefully navigate the stairway. Until last night, though, he did not have a problem. In the morning he just hops down using his good leg for balance.

But last night was different. He didn't even try, but for putting a paw on the second step, then withdrawing it and whining plaintively. I brought his kennel blanket and a couple toys up to entice him, to no avail. I left him alone, letting him figure it out...nothing.

We had to go to sleep, and I ended up bringing my German Shepherd up with me, rather than letting her stay with Fire for company. Even though Fire did not want to come up the stairs, dogs will play and I feared if left 7 hours alone, they will find some playtime and make Fire's condition worse.

I heard him whine just a little and then there was silence for the rest of the night. This is the first time he has ever slept on a different level of the house. Ever since I trained him how to navigate stairs, he has never failed to either follow or even beat me up the stairs at bedtime. Last night, although he had the freedom to come up at any time, even though he must have been terribly lonely, he did not venture to attempt the trek.

This morning he heard me get up, right on schedule, and as I got prepared to walk the dogs, (in his case, just a quick walk in the yard) he stood crying, just so that I could start my Friday with a heaping dose of pitiful guilt.

He feels warm, indicating he likely has a feaver. He seems distressed, he's barely using his left hind leg, and he's not even standing at my elbow begging to be petted as he usually does this time of day. It is not possible for me to have a cup of coffee and not pet the greyhound; it's part of the morning routine. In fact, he's usually so persistent that I have to set the cup down and focus on him for awhile, and then finish what's in the cup. After wiping up the spilled coffee, of course.

So this morning I will go to work, I'll call the vet clinic when it opens, and see what they recommend. Because we've run all the diagnostic tests, I honestly hope I don't have to take him in again, but we all know that's not how it works. We'll be going in again, either today or tomorrow, because that feaver is indicative of something more than an irritated ligament.

Another first; he went and laid in his kennel in lieu of begging for attention, and when I went into the kitchen to get his Rimadyl and the medium (a marshmallow) I use to give this huge tablet to him, he didn't even try to get up for this wonderful treat. In fact, he seemed to take it from my hand when I brought it to him just because I'd gone to the trouble.

Any time a dog does not show inordinate interest in his favorite treat, something is wrong.


9:30 AM UPDATE: I called the vet this morning, by some miracle he is not off today; he is usually not working on Fridays. They sent me to his voice mail, I left a message about Fire's fever and inability to go upstairs, they called me back and tomorrow he is going to re-take the X-rays. We were going to wait a month. Guess two weeks to the day is necessary.

Summer Interlude

I think I have writer's block, apparently a mid-summer malady, as it seems to be affecting several bloggers.

Anyway, I'd like to thank those of you who have so generously donated money to help pay Fire's vet bills and for Grad school. I haven't yet heard from the program director at IPT, but that's not cause for alarm. He may very well be incommunicado this week due to vacation...so if no response I will call IPT and get a message to him. Additionally I will also post my book list in case someone out there has what I need and doesn't need it for themselves. My main shopping will involve used books, just like when I was an undergrad, except now that world is my bookstore, not just the overpriced college shop.

As of the end of the day tomorrow, it will only be two more weeks of a regular paycheck, and then they should pay out my earned 60 hours of vacation time, which will take me to mid-August. And then, as now, I'm on God's graces.

When are any of us NOT on God's graces?

Tonight, though, I'm going to bed early. I'm exhausted. Fire is doing OK, is limping and still on twice-daily doses of Rimadyl. But he's taken to hopping so as to move along more efficiently outside, only using his bad leg when he has a need to walk slowly or put it down to support himself at the right moment. I'm not sure if it's my imagination, or just some muscles atrophying, but I think there is a knob forming, which it can't be...can it? Can cancer grow so quickly?

I pray it's my imagination. Mom always did say I had a vivid imagination. I really wish it was less vivid right now.

The last few nights have been rough for Fire. He has had a very difficult time getting comfortable, even though I bring the dogbed upstairs for him along with his kennel blanket (an old comfortor) for extra padding. Then he'll go to the futon I gave the dogs (it's old), and as he tries to first climb on and lay down, which used to be very easy for him, now he struggles, pants, shakes, turns and figits, the piece of furniture creaking all the while. Occasionally he also jostles against the bed, and if I have managed to start to drift back to sleep, I am nudged wide awake.

It doesn't help that the last couple nights were very warm, and even with the AC on, it doesn't do much in upstairs of my townhome, so I still have to make use of a fan, which blows on me all night. Which is uncomfortable, noisy, even for a quiet fan, and then I end up watching the clock and realizing I have only 4 hours to try to get good sleep...make that 3 hours and 40 min, or 3 hours and 30 minutes. Jump to 3 hours...then 2 and one half hours...you get the picture.

Yup. That's been my last few nights.

So tonight... * yawn *

Escuse me.

Um...tonight...

All God's People

One of the things my superiors have always commented upon has been my ability to "endear" people to myself and build rapport by taking our conversations outside of the parameters of our business relationship, lightening the conversation, bringing both themselves and I into the picture as people. No one trained me to do this; I'm actually just naturally nosy and talkative, and apparently, this force can be directed to Good!

This trait of mine has been addressed at many positions, even the ones that were complete failures for me; somehwere in my life, God gave me the ability to put people at ease when they are in crisis and make something as boilerplate as a recorded statement into a conversation. Perhaps had I remained in Law Enforcement I would have been able to obtain great confessions...but that's not who I am.

I do love people. I love their stories and legitimately want to learn about their lives. (Yeah, I'm also completely ego-centric as evidenced by this blog.)

Today, though, I heard a story that stopped me in my tracks such that I had to share it with my co-workers.

Keep in mind; I hate my job and the subject and focus of my job; not the customers. (Some are irritating to no end and there's nothing we can do right...)

This lady hails from Russia and has been in the United States for 15 years. I'm not sure how we got on the topic, but she made a comment about something so I opened the door wider and asked her what brought her here. She grew up under a dictatorship and when Gorbachev came into power, there was a very brief window of freedom for the people of Russia. This was her opportunity. She fled the country into the Ukraine, lived with her son for awhile and then they traveled to the United States, where they became citizens and made a life here.

She acknowledged that even though it's now "home", it's not Russia, it's not her homeland, and it's not perfect. However, she also knew that it was a gift to embrace the comforts and opportunities of this country, and she is giving something back...as much as she is able. This summer, she is traveling back to the Ukraine, six hours from her own country. She will be so close to her family, yet she will not be able to visit because, as she said, Russia is still under a dictatorship. Should she try to return home, she would be considered to be a spy, she would be arrested, and she would never be released.

She will, in all liklihood, never see her family again.

Over the phone, I could hear how this breaks her heart. How she misses home. Her country is not about the political machine that governs it currently any more than the US is about our own political machinations. It is about family. It is about the land. It is about roots.

And she can never go home again; she can never embrace her family again.

This is true suffering.

I thank God for introducing me to people like her, to help remind me that we are a country of refugees, a society made up of people who have fled various nations and various histories, and we have made our home here. We have been born here, and we are now citizens of a soverign nation.

Sadly, we have forgotten our ancestry; we have completely come to disregard the sufferings of our previous generations who left family and land and home to sacrifice for the future lives of the progeny yet unborn; us.

Take some time tonight to consider from whence you came; consider your ancestry and the nations your grandparents or great-grandparents, etc. fled for the promise of the lives that would come, including yours. Consider their suffering, when the journey entailed, and how they could never go home again, either.

We are a country of refugees; let us remember, upon meeting those who are such recent Americans or even temporary residents, that they have come here for a reason, and everyone has a story. Most of them will calmly tell you stories of harrowing escapes, but gloss over them so you will not see their pain. They will tell you of fallen walls and dictatorships, they will tell you not of hovels, but of beloved family members they will never see again.

We must become family to people who are displaced and would not choose this country but for certain circumstances; we must listen to their stories and recognize that, but for the grace of God, there go we.

Jesus, I trust in Thee

To your Mercy, O Lord, I entrust my Past.
To your Love, I entrust my Present
and my future...to your Providence. ~ St. Padre Pio



Any other captions?

A Thank You and a Renewed Bleg

Firstly, I offer a big THANK YOU to those of you who have assisted with Fire's Vet bills, and Fire thanks you, too. Actually, if you met him, he'd just walk up to you and demand to be petted because that's what he lives for. :-) He's just maintaining right now, his attitude is fine, he's interested in chasing squirrels and bunnies, an very frustrated with me for not allowing him to do so. He still can't go for real walks and I don't know if he ever will again...I don't really know what to expect. I will continue to provide updates. Please look here if you are interested in helping with Fire's Vet Bills.

Next on the list...

Grad School - Institute for Pastoral Theology. The deadline for registration is August 10, only a few weeks away. To date, I'm not even close to having the money, although, at $2,000 per semester for Grad credits, well, that's not bad. It absolutely kills me to see that this really is affordable and I can't pay for it. Such is life. When I was awarded the Merit scholarship, I was told to ask others for assistance to cover the remainder of what I cannot afford. I was also told to contact the program director if the money still wasn't there so that he could see if there was anything he could do. And of course, he instructed me not to wait until the last moment!

So tonight I sent him an email advising of my situation and inquiring about my options. I assured him I am not withdrawing or giving up - not when there's still time for God to act.

I am also renewing my request to any of you who may be willing or able to help to contribute to this fund. I hate blegging, but again, several people have suggested I do so, including the IPT Director (not blegging specifically...more like begging in general! lol!)

So if you do wish to assist with this, click here.

Thank you for anything you can do...including simply offering prayers!

Skyway

I grew up in Illinois, in the Rock River Valley, nestled against the rolling hills that always tend to accompany a river. It was a white-trash neighborhood filled with people of little financial means but big hearts, and really, a place where a novel should be set. Maybe one day I'll write that novel.

We had a babysitter, a teenager who lived across the street, a "tough girl" who smoked, loved horses, and had a soft side that didn't normally manifest. But one summer day when Mom was working and Annette was in the mood, she took us hiking. We were familiar with the local trails, the ones we went sledding on in winter, the trails my brother warned me were dangerous due to the fictional quicksand, and the monsters the inhabited a particular area. But of course, I had my own imagination and I knew that Bambi and Faline and the Great Prince of the Forest resided in a small thicket where the gravel road forked, so I was never afraid to walk the trail to visit my friends down the road.

Annette, though, took us beyond the beaten paths. Through the summer humidity we barely felt, through the dappled shade, across brooks with skating water spiders that made me scream and shy away, Annette lead and even forced us onward and upward, into one of our great childhood adventures, to a destination you’ll never find in any travel guide, but which hides in the hills and valleys of Rock River Valley; Skyway.

Back in the late 80's, I remember watching the movie on TV, "Bridge to Terebithia", about a girl and a boy who are both bullied in school due to different reasons, yet find deep, true friendship and a special place shared only by them.

Back in those years, I was having problems of my own...I actually identified with both characters. I won't go so far as to say I was "bullied", but I will say that I did not identify with my peers, partially because of my introspectiveness, partially because of my family's financial poverty. When I came across that movie, although it wasn't the most, well, high-budgeted film I'd ever seen, it captured me, it brought me into it, and it reminded me of Skyway, at a time in which I was desperately missing my home in Illinois. We had recently moved to Minnesota and I didn't have many friends; this story reminded me that true friendship was better to be valued than superficial popularity.

Just tonight, I watched the remake of this story and found the impact upon me to be even greater. Tonight, I went home. Tonight, I was reminded of Skyway and the imagination of childhood.

While our visit to Skyway does not compare to the special effects of Terabithia, nonetheless, the setting is nothing if not striking in similarity. Having crossed creeks and fought our way through the Illinois wilderness in our very backyard, we entered a sort of clearing created by very high trees and very little ground vegetation. A perfect place, screened from the outside by the prairie and the trees; shaded inside creating a cool oasis from the heat of the Illinois summer. Some mysterious kids, long before us, had built a tree house, using fallen trees from the area, rejected wood from various constructions, and rope that wasn't of any use to anyone but an imaginative child. There was a fallen-tree ramp leading up to a makeshift rope bridge, leading to a grand tree house nestled between both the deadfall and the live oaks present in that place.

The first time I saw Terebithia, I knew I was looking at Skyway; and I knew the magic, I knew the characters, and I knew the friendship

Tonight I watched the 2007 version of Bridge to Terebithia , and I could not stop the tears.

I remembered Skyway, and I empathized with the unreality and denial that accompanies the revelation of death. I asked the same questions as Jessie...can God send such a child to Hell? Theologically I answered this question before the end of the movie yet was surprised to hear it addressed, if only in sentimental terms.

My friends, I have been to Terabithia, and it is every bit as beautiful and mysterious and adventuresome as portrayed in the movie. It is a version of Narnia and every other childhood fantasy-world come to life. It is a time of friendship, a reality of memory, and a location that reminds us that there is a place for childhood to remain present with us forever. Terebithia and Skyway also remind us that tragedy isn't so far away; that even in the world of imagination and fantasy, we bring a part of ourselves, we remain there, and we influence future generations.

I am still wiping the tears from my eyes as I write this; I am still looking upon Skyway, I am still absorbing Terebithia, and I see a link with Narnia. They all encompass tales not only of childhood adventure, but of real-life sacrifice for a greater goal, true friendship, and the value of imagination in a world that seeks to quash that which is not readily apparent.

We are all called to be like children, to believe like children, and to live and love like children. Let us forever be reminded of the child within us who sees the mystery and the potential of the forts built by unknown hands in the deep forests in our back yards; let us forever be reminded of the friendships built from adversity; let us forever be willing to believe that which is "impossible", for it is within impossibility that God is most gloriously manifested.

For Tara...

Rockin' the World!

I was nominated by Ironic Catholic as a Rockin' Girl Blogger, and now I get to nominate five other women who rock!

* Cathy_of_Alex, the Recovering Dissident. This woman blows me away with her knowledge of the faith and her boldness in sharing it with others, no matter what it might cost her. If the world were full of Catholics like her, well, it would be a better place. Gotta say it...she ROCKS!

* Angela Messenger. This Canadian Catholic woman and I have a bit in common...we both teach RCIA, but she's probably better at it and she knows more than I do. Her blog is filled with spiritual introspection and resultant instruction, humor, prayer, and parody. What else could anyone want? Angela is Rockin' Canada!

* Ma Beck! This Lady inspires me with her strong pro-life stance. She has a few recent posts about her experiences at an abortuary in Chicago and the raw reality contained within the words of Planned Parenthood workers themselves. And of course, I know she's tough because she was a Coast Guard Cop, and now, as an ex-Coastie I feel a bit of solidarity with her because I was an almost-Coastie. Learning that about her just increased the already-great respect I have for her and her writing. Rock on, girlfriend!

* Loved Sinner. Tara is a convert to the Church and has completely fallen in love, and that's why she rocks. Not only did she have to wade through a lot of stuff and overcome a great deal in order to join the Church, but once she made that decision she pressed on in spite of her own private battles. She kept her eyes on Jesus, knowing that He was there for her, and now she shares her conversion, her faith, and her everyday life and photos with us. I can see that she loves with the love of Christ, and that's why she deserves this award. Tara is A Rockin' Girl Blogger from Utah.

* Catholic Mom of 10. This wonderful Lady who hails from England not only serves as a loving mother to ten children, but is willing to put it all out there even in the face of rabid secularism. If that doesn't Rock, I don't know what does! Mrs. Jackie Parkes MJ, mantilla-twitch to you and yours!

And you know what? That's not enough. I'm sorry, but I HAVE to add another name, another blog, to the list. I'd be remiss if I did not.

* Sarah, the Snoring Scholar. Talk about writing from the heart, and even from the heart of the garden! She can bring a flower to life just as easily as she can bring her little girl's joi de vive to your screen...and apparently she doesn't have a green thumb! A confession here...for years, I thought that I could never be a mother, thought I'd NEVER want to go through childbirth, raise children, etc. Yet, when Sarah shares her experiences as a young mother with another on the way, I come to understand what it means to be a woman, what it means to be a mother, and the miracle of life is made personal to me. Thank God for women like Sarah. Is there any doubt that Sara is a Rockin' Girl?

Blog On, Ladies!

Who's Got an Axe to Grind?

Back when I was in training for the Fire Department, having gone through mostly academics for four months, we were then subjected to the last six weeks of training. At "The Tower".

The dreaded Tower.

I had worked hard in the academics and rivaled another guy (whose Dad was a Chief) for the top spot in the class. But being a woman, I knew that I could not maintain that position, and this reality was brought home in our first week at the Tower.

They had a setup to include a six story building attached to a two-story "residential" building with a typical Minnesota roof. There was also a specially-built training building which allowed for different floor plans, smoke machines, and propane-fueled flames.

And they had the chopping simulator. This was a one-story building with four cutouts fit for wooden pallets. I remember my first experience and training evolution involving this; we had to climb a ground ladder, step onto a roof ladder, climb it, step out onto the peak, move along it to the far side and climb down the ariel ladder (from the ladder truck) which was extended up to the peak. Then we went to the chopping simulator.

Most of we women just didn't have the strength to grab a pallet, which was more unweildy than it was heavy (although some were very heavy!) and carry it up a ladder, so some of the guys helped with this. It was put in place, and when we could chop through it (by breaking ALL the boards, leaving only the frame, and then chop the frame and push it through the holes to "clear" it from the roof), we'd be done.

I was given a pallet, thrilled it seemed to be very weak. So I swung the ax, which had a dull blade - they all did - and it bounced back at me without a result. Surprised, I swung again, harder. It bounced higher.

Frustrated, I really went to town on this thing, determined that it would not win. And finally a board broke. I rejoiced and continued until the axe flew out of my had from an especially surprising rebound. While a fellow classmate retrieved the tool for me, one of the other guys stopped what he was doing long enough to make a few suggestions, which, at the time, I thought made no sense. The boards were clearly the weakest in the center. I could jump on it and break it...why wouldn't the axe cut through? So I initially ignored his advice, decided I just wasn't swinging hard enough, and redoubled my efforts, resulting only in futile swings, much sweat, much frustration...and a "failure". My coworker just shook his head as I descended the ladder in exhaustion and defeat.

I had to try again later as we went through other training evolutions. And the situation repeated itself. I exhausted myself trying to break the pallet at it's strongest point, which, in my mind, was the weakest point. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not get through the springy wood. It continued to repel my axe. All around me, the guys were turning their pallets into toothpicks...and I couldn't even get through ONE!

Finally the Captain ordered me down, and after taking off the SCBA, the coat, and my helmet so I could wipe off the sweat and pour water on my head in the ninety-degree September heat, one of the guys pulled me aside. Another joined him. They explained to me why my pallet wasn't breaking; it had nothing to do with a lack of strength, but was completely about technique. They explained how the weaker points were really up against the frame, how to hit it so it would break, and that I wouldn't have to work so hard. They gave the same instruction to a couple other of the women, because this wasn't an issue of men versus women; we were a unified group, and where one was failing, all were failing. If not individually, then at least as a team. It literally hurt all of us to see one person struggling, and of course, there was the practical concern; we had to be able to depend on each other. One day, our lives may be in that person's hands, and the trust factor was greatly needed. We had to build each other up and help them overcome their own weaknesses.

I recieved a similar lesson when fighting with the hose one day...I simply could not hold it, advance it while on my knees, and control a straight stream. When I had to hold my position, even on my knees, without someone to support me from the back, the water pressure literally pushed me backwards. It was exhausting.

I wasn't the only person with this problem, and one female coworker provided a tip she got from another firefighter who'd gone through this training the year prior. As it was, I never got the opportunity to test that particular technique, but I have no doubt it worked as others did try it and were able to maintain and advance as they needed.

Does anyone else see a metaphor for "fraternal correction"?

When another member of the mystical Body of Christ is suffering, we all suffer in some way. When that person is struggling, engaging in a futile and self-destructive act, which also may affect us all, we MUST speak up and offer constructive correction. They are destroying themselves and putting everyone else at risk.

In training, we had to focus on saving lives.

In the Church, we focus on saving souls. Can we trust one another with our souls?

If we are not willing to speak up in correction or guidance, we are helping to sever any unity that might exist. If we are the ones in error, we NEED that correction before the axe we're using to beat through our agenda goes flying out of our hands and into an innocent person's back. We NEED to be brought to bear, or we'll go so far off course that the rest of the Body is brought down. Conversely, if we recognize that someone is doing something wrong, we are obligated to step in and provide some instruction.

Ultimately, the decision to listen to truth or to disregard is in the hands of the one in error, yet, when the error is chosen over truth, it hurts everyone, it affects everyone, and we are wounded greviously.

I'll never forget the willingness of my class to come to my aid when I was in error, and I'll never forget how much it hurt when someone failed. Part of our training involved building and recognizing that special unity we had as a team, that special bond between us all, and the understanding the reality that we had to depend upon one another.

It is no different in the Church, whether we are considering our own personal conduct or public conduct when claiming to represent the Church as a Catholic. None of us is perfect; we all struggle with something, perhaps many things. So it is that we are responsible for knowing our faith and doing our best to live it, go to Confession when needed, and accept legitimate correction when we are wrong. Beating a pulpit in futility destroys us, causes schrapnel to fly, and wounds the rest of the Body. And when we see that someone else is engaging in such behavior, be it subtle and known only to us as a close friend, or be it publicly and loudly, we must intervene and attempt to put a stop to the damage being done.

And just to sum it up with another metaphor:

A properly sharpened axe, when used correctly, even though sweat and muscle are a part of the process, makes short work of big obstacles.

Thanks, guys, for taking the time to teach me how to do it right.

Five Reasons Meme

Ironic Catholic has tagged me for a Meme:

Five reasons you love Jesus:

1. Because Jesus loved me first, with the complete, all-encompassing, perfect self-giving love that brought him here to die for our sins by reversing the sin of Adam and opening Heaven for our eternal union with God.

2. Because Jesus invites us to unite our suffering to his, dignifying our own suffering and giving it meaning, giving our very lives meaning.

3. Jesus never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself, and he showed me that he will NEVER give up on me, no matter how lost I become, no matter how confused, no matter how dark it seems or how sinful I am, He will never give up and he will never let go.

4. Jesus healed my eyesight literally overnight when I was due for surgery the next day, and, years later, physically intervened to prevent me from taking my own life.

5. When I most needed Jesus, when I was all but orphaned due to family crisis, He kept me close to Him even when I didn't realize it, recognize him, or know him with any understanding. And through his loving protection through all those tumultous years, I came home, the Prodigal daughter, praying never to be separated from Him again.

I tag

Angela Messenger (Happy Birthday Lady!)

Snoring Scholar
Paramedicgirl
and anyone else who doesn't have a blog but wants to play. That's what comboxes are fer!

A Bleg

I didn't wanna do it, and I've been praying about it and thinking about it, and really digging in my heels and resisting the idea. It is very difficult for me to ask for money. I pretty much grew up on welfare due to my family's circumstances and as a result I swore I would never live like that again. I swore I would not ask for money from others because there's nothing wrong with me and I can work for what I want or need.

Of course, I could not see into the future, and I did not look at this through anything but the eyes of wounded pride.

Several people, both people I know, and people who are regular readers, have contacted me privately and suggested I set up a donation account. People have indicated they want to help, but think that if I do determine to go the "bleg" route, I should be safe about it for all involved, and I completely agree.

So after much prayer, my recent circumstances, to include impending Grad school, the dog's illness, and the upcoming end to my regular paychecks, well, I've come to realize that I can't do it all. And I also had to realize that sometimes pride can get in the way of others who legitimately want to help what they see as a worthy cause, and sometimes we have to have enough humility to allow God to work through others.

I will admit I am doing this with reservations, but just the same, I intend to be transparent about it and tell you what I need. I will allow you and God to determine what you should or should not do. As always, my circumstances are in His hands, not mine, and that has never changed.

Those who read my blog are aware that I recently gave notice at my work, another reason I'm so hesitant to "bleg". Yet I am not asking for anything for my personal circumstances; my specific requests are for the vet bills for my greyhound, and for assistance with Grad school.

As for an update on Fire; he is actually doing OK, but his limp is worse. I spoke with the vet today, and he indicated that he expects this condition to "wax and wane", and the limp may be worse now yet still get better over time. He is already at the high range of his medications and more could bring us into dangerous territory, so for now, it's just a matter of trying to keep Fire quiet. That's really hard when he's interested in chasing the squirrels he's not allowed to chase! For now, we're in a holding pattern, and next month we will go in for another diagnostic X Ray to find out if we are dealing with a bone cyst (and whatever implications that has), or osteosarcoma, which implications are obvious.

The bill thus far for Fire is $492.84 from the Emergency Vet Clinic on Friday, and $62.45 for the follow-up visit with our regular vet on Monday, including the additional pain medication (Rimadyl) given for PRN usage when the current course of meds runs out.

GRAD SCHOOL

The second button I'm adding is for Grad school. I've had just as many people suggest I ask publicly for help with this. When I was accepted to school, I was awarded a Merit scholarship which is given for both need and merit. This covers 1/3 of the credits as long as I take 4 or more credits per semester. The agreement indicates that should I recieve a windfall, I should call the school to advise them that the scholarship is no longer needed; coversely, I was also told that if that scholarship is not enough, to contact them again so they can tap into other donors. People believe in this program so much they are literally making their own funds available for students who can't afford to pay for it. I pray to be one of those people one day.

In any case, I have spoken with a local priest who is seeking assistance for me for this program, but in response to the private emails I have recieved, I have decided to add a donation button for this as well.

My plans (God willing) are to take 5 credits this semester, and I just received the paperwork today. The costs are as follows:

* Tuition per credit hour........$479.00, 5 credit total:.....$2395
* Less amount paid by the Merit scholarship:.............. - $798.33
* Student fee per credit hour $20/credit. 5 credits...........$100.00
-
Amount needed after the scholarship........................$1,696.67
* Course notes for the following classes:
Old Testament I, Introduction to Vatican II, and Foundations of Catholic Spirituality...................... ...........................$50.25

Total needed for Fall Semester (not including books)..........$1746.92
*
There are costs for books and I do have the book list and recommended editions, etc. I'm not certain how much will be needed; I have a couple of the books, but ironically, although I own 3 Bible versions, it appears I need to buy another one.

I can list the needed books in another post in case someone has it and is willing to donate it, help me find it, or buy it for me. I can't ask to borrow a source, for I have already learned through experience that books become marked up, highlighted, underlined, and tabbed. And then they become officially "reference" material!

I don't know how to add this to my template, so for now, I'm just posting the buttons here. I've never done this before, and I do NOT want anyone to feel obligated. If the money isn't there for school, it's not there, and thus God's will is revealed.

I cannot stress this enough...I'm doing this very reluctantly, but at the behest of many people who think it's a good idea. Do not feel obligated; that is not my intention. Perhaps the biggest thing I need are prayers, and that costs nothing. If all you can or want to do is pray, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I ask you in turn to let me know of any of your intentions. Fair warning...I entrust all intentions into the hands of Our Mother of Perpetual Help!

God bless you all.


Please note: I copied the HTML given by Paypal, and apparently it included a very lengthy space. I can't edit it out. Additonally, I had tried to label the buttons but the label did not come through. They are: Fire's Vet Fund, and Grad School Fund.

I Need a Latin Lesson

When I was recently reading Fr. Z.'s post about "sister" Joan Chittister's misunderstanding and misrepresentation of Catholic beliefs and the Motu Propio, I came across the following phrase, repeated by the priest while upon the altar:

Domine, non sum dignus

I know that it means, "Lord, I am not worthy!"


For reference, here is what Fr. Z. stated in his post:

Ehem…. one of those things the lone male priest is saying silently up there at the altar Sister can’t approach is "Domine, non sum dignus… Domine, non sum dignus… Domine, non sum dignus…" before anyone else says it."

Please understand that I have not had the opportunity to study Latin, although I love the language. My experience is in Spanish as my second language (I used to be quite proficient, nearly fluent), and due to my study, I am actually able to discern the meanings of many words in the Latin-based languages.

Additionally, this post is *not* about our worthiness or lack thereof to receive, nor is it about where this is in the Bible; this post is about pure linguists and the theology behind the usage of the Latin and specifical theological context with regard to the chosen words.

So, here is my question:

The word "dignus" is clearly the source for the word in English, "dignity". Theologically, "worth" and "dignity" are very much linked, but in English, they have very different connotations, and I am seeing, in spite of the differing connotations, they are absolutely related. But then that lends to a theological conundrum for me.

I agree that none of us is "worthy" to recieve Jesus, none of us is worthy to be saved by Him, none of us is worthy of the graces, the love, and the very gift of life given to us by God. We have inherent dignity, but we are not worthy of that dignity given so freely to us.

So, I completely understand why the priest is praying, " Domine, non sum dignus, Lord, I am not worthy". Over and over.

But if I translate it, "Lord, I do not have the dignity", that changes the meaning, at least, in English.

We know that as human beings, we have inherent dignity, and perhaps I have just understood the term "dignity" as being at a lower value than "worth". When I see the word "worthy", that denotes a quantatative value. The word "dignity", however, is a dignity given to us which is equal across the board. There is not quantitative value to the term. I believe that when God became man, He elevated our dignity, for, as it states in the Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes, 22, "He worked with human hands, he loved with a human heart..." etc. Jesus elevated our existing dignity ever further by becoming one of us...but this is not the same thing as elevating our WORTH.

Because even within our dignity as human beings, and thus our "worth", we cannot possibly be "worthy" ENOUGH for what God has condescended to give us so lovingly.

I simply do not see the equality in the terms "worth" and "dignity", although I do see their relationship to each other.

Can someone please explain to me why "dignus" is translated as "wothy" and not "dignity" as it appears it should be?

What am I missing theologically and linguistically? (Um, a lot, but let's just start here....)

It really seems to me that the use of Latin in the liturgy requires not just an understanding of the bare translations (for those so inclined) but of the theological value of the words chosen and the meanings behind those words, such as "dignus". It seems they cannot be taken on simple face value, but must be understood historically and within a certain linguistic and theological context. This perception actually deepens the respect I have for the Old Form of the Mass (Tridentine), although I have never attended it. I have attended a Latin Novus Ordo, and loved it, my only desire being that I wish I was actually well versed in Latin.

So....can anyone explain this translation of "dignus" to "worthy" and give me a Latin lesson 101 as it pertains to this particular wording?

What am I? And Who are YOU?

Thus said St. Francis. I realize that today is the Feast day of St. Benedict, and while his daughter, a Benedictine Sister, inspired my post, it is the words of St. Francis that define it.

During Lent this last spring, while I was undergoing a particular trial in life, I remember that I was having great difficulty in everything, including prayer after Communion. I had so much I wanted to say to God, there was so much I wanted to hear God saying, but there was no communication whatsoever. I came close to despair, and fought that temptation with great difficulty. I felt my faith failing me. Who is God, anyway? What difference does it make?

So I knelt and looked up at the huge crucifix that graces our sanctuary, and I just considered intellectually what I'd been learning in class about Jesus Christ and who he was. What he did. For us. I considered his suffering, and I stared intently at the nails in his hands, the crown of thorns digging into his head, the blood running in rivulets I knew had been there, although they are not depicted on a typical crucifix.

It struck me, suddenly, so hard that I couldn't even breathe for a few moments. Tears threatened to overwhelm me.

My life has no meaning apart from the cross. My life has no definition apart from the suffering of Jesus on my behalf. My own suffering has no meaning without reference to Him.

And I realized it was true, and how deeply I believed it. At that time, my load did not lighten, but it was, rather, illuminated before me, allowing me to see it through the eyes of my Savior.

Tonight I was watching EWTN and something Benedictine Sister Gertrude Gillette, O.S.B said has just brought that illumination of Lent back into my present.

She was discussing relationships; we are who we are in relation to others. We all affect others and are affected by them in life, and this, in turn, defines who we are and who we become. She described how the Benedictines define themselves in relation to Christ - and so should we all.

Just as God revealed to me on that day in Lent, my life has no meaning, I am nothing, without relation to Jesus Christ. It is He who must define me, who must lead me, who must shape me into what I am supposed to become.

So it is for us all.

The the thoughts of others, the attitudes of others, good or bad, enter our souls through our senses. When we read, the words of another person comes through our eyes, our intellect, and enters our souls, perhaps changing us forever. What we hear enters our ears, passes through our minds, and becomes a part of our souls, again, potentially changing us forever. It is relational.

So we have to ask ourselves; what are we reading, not so much to consider the words, but to contemplate what we are alloing to enter into our very souls. We have to think about what we are hearing; what is going on around us, and does it glorify God and dignify us? Or does it sneer at God and trample our human dignity to bits...and how does that affect us and or ability to be Christ-like to others?

We MUST look only to Jesus to define ourselves. No other human being can substitute, and we should be looking to those who exemplify Christ as models. We need to pay attention to what we read or see or hear and take care that it is not poison we are so willingly imbibing into our very souls.

The good Benedictine Sister reminded me today to look to Christ to define my path; to look to Him to understand my trials and my suffering. To look to him to infuse virtue into my soul.

Because apart from Jesus, I am only so much dust and ashes; apart from Christ, there is no reason for me to live. United with Christ, we are instruments of God and his strength becomes ours, and in that relationship, God is glorified and our own dignity as human beings is affirmed.

So I answer these questions from the good St. Francis:

What am I? Only dust, and to dust I will return.

Who are You? My Creator, my Savior, my Father, my God, the lover of my soul, the One who knew me before I was born, who loved me even as he was tortured and suffered death for my sins, the only one who will ever suffice. God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit.

What am I, you ask? Nothing, apart from God.

The Sunflower

When we first moved to Minnesota, we were excited to see sunflowers blooming in our yard in July. I don't know why, but there was something about that long, powerful stalk and the huge disk with petals that helped me to feel at home. I had not grown up with these flowers, but something about their presence was comforting to me.

Overall, I do not really see myself as that much of a "flower-girl". I like flowers, but I've been a tomboy for so long that, in some ways, flowers just don't seem to define me (other than the dandelion or the violet, both seen as being "weeds"), yet as I've gotten older, their beauty keeps drawing me to them and more deeply, into God.

So when I bought my townhome, which has only eastern sun exposure, I planted a sunflower seed. It began to sprout that first year, but I needed that particular space to store some outdoor "furniture" so, being stuck in constant shadow, the little sprout died.

It's been a few years now, and this year I determined that although I don't have a green thumb, I should attempt to grow sunflowers again, partially for privacy for my ground-floor window and protection from the sun, and also, for a little bit of beauty in what "land" I have. So I went to the store and purchased a few varieties, but what clearly intereste me most was the Giant Sunflower; it has a long stalk, and when it blooms, it's huge. It has edible seeds, and basically, this flower is completely useful. And it grows in the wild, meaning even someone without a greeen thumb can grow it.

So I planted a few seeds, and our spring, in the beginning, was wet. I eagerly watched the little sprouts, and then, another, unexpected sprout appeared, right where I had planted the seed a few years ago.

This time, I have been careful not to cover the area with shade; I want to watch new life bloom before my eyes, and this little sprout, which at first resembled the weeds, caught my attention. I had been about to weed my "garden", and something told me to hold off. So I put the gardening gloves away, watered the clover and the mystery sprout, and hoped for the best.

It wasn't long before I recognized the sunflower stalk, and knew this was no ordinary "weed". This was the seed I planted years ago, finally given enough light and water to rise from the ground that had held it captive for so long.

My new sprouts also began, but I had planted them late in the season so hoped they would survive. Every day they were bigger, but I realized I'd planted them too close together. They were doing well...would one crowd the others out? Would they all die?

And then we were hit with a few days of intense heat, intense sun, and a period of intense dryness. We've been in a drought here in Minnesota, and sadly, I had to watch my little seedlings first fade, the wither, then die.

There was another sunflower stalk almost as large as my original one; I'm not sure where it came from, but there it was, and just as the seedlings died, that one did as well. I tried to save all of them. When I saw the little ones fading, I removed a couple of the weaker ones, and added some potting soil to the sandy, rocky ground. I added water for a few days...but they continued to decline. Then the heat sealed their fate, and they all died, even the brother to my healthy stalk. It withered, bent over, and in spite of my ministrations, it also died and became home to spiders. I quickly put an end to THAT!

But for a couple weeks now, I've been watching my original seed come to fruition; that stalk has grown daily, literally visible to the naked eye. I have watched the head form at the top, leaves actually closing at night, and the head drooping in the shade and then again with the evening, seeming to wilt. Yet upon the morn, upon the rising sun, the head of this flower has begun to lift, and each day, it is visibly larger. Each day the leaves grow bigger, each day, the stalk grows wider and more supportive.

Yesterday, I saw a glimpse of yellow petals, thinking that perhaps they would begin to open in a couple days. And then, in the late afternoon, we were hit with a storm. Along with a strong gust, the torrential rains fell, and all creation praised God for we needed this deluge so desperately! I watched my flower anxiously as it waved in the wind, blown to and fro in the gusts, rising in between, flexible enough to withstand and still hold its ground.

This morning, I opened the drape and was shocked to see what looked like an open hand, waiting to greet the sun just hinting at its coming. When I let Fire out to walk, we inspected the flower and I saw the green center and open petals. I've noticed that it really does follow the sun...drooping low but hopefully open in the morning, wide open to receive the light and heat of the sun as long as the direct rays are available, and remaining open to receive even reflected rays once the stalk and flower itself are cast again into the shadow under th eaves.

Tonight I began to be alarmed as the flower again began to droop, but was reminded that this flower literally follows the sun. Upon closer observation, I saw that it is already pollenating, and some of the pollen has fallen upon the leaves. My flower is growing quickly and will soon be in its full glory; and by its very existance, God is praised.

I am the woman without a green thumb, watching every day as this miracle of a flower, one that lived in the shadows for three years, has finally sprouted and has come to fruition. All I did was plant a seed, and wait. All I have done was take away the shadow that suppressed that original seed, and finally, God's creation has come to bloom almost at my very doorstep, and certainly before my livingroom window.

What metaphors might this simple flower, once considered to be only a weed, have in store for all of us?

Watch...and Wait....and Pray

I took Fire to the vet this afternoon for our appointment. The Dr. came in with the films and immediately told me that this was not "classic" of bone cancer. He pointed out the spot that was indicated in the X-Ray and went on to tell me that he'd heard of this, it's VERY rare, and he's NEVER seen it before; a bone cyst. The Dr. explained that if he were to show me photos in the books he's studied that give examples of the cyst, none are so clear as this. But there are other things going on with Fire that still indicate the possible presence of cancer.

For now, I am to complete the course of medications we were given and he made a slight adjustment to the schedule. (Two were to be given every 12 hours; one every 8. He changed the last to 12).

Typically, greyhounds have a low platelet count, but Fire's is high, but within normal limits (WNL), yet he has some odd bruising. I am to watch for any more and to let the vet know immediately should it appear. And we have to watch the lameness, see how he does when the meds are done. He gave us a PRN prescription for Rimadyl, for pain, once we finish off the first course.

And we are to take another X-Ray in about a month to get a progressive view of the area; if it doesn't change, then in all liklihood, it's the rare cyst which will cause discomfort for Fire, but which will not kill him. If it changes...well, then we're dealing with osteosarcoma, albeit with a strange beginning.

He gave it 50-50 odds of being cancer.

Oh, and Fire has an abscessed tooth that will need to be removed at some point. Great. Won't kill him, but if left alone, it will cause him pain and serve as a point of bacteria which will continue to enter the bloodstream. That's never a good thing.

So I guess the wait goes on. I am thankful that there is hope for something fairly benign, I'm sad that we are looking at more bills at a time I can least afford them, but I know that in all things, all I can do is trust God because worrying will not solve what is staring us down.

Thank you, all for the concern and prayers that you have expressed.

Meeting Mary at the Cross

Today I went to Mass, and I was FINE. I wasn't sad, Fire is doing better, and I have gotten fairly well adjusted to his probable diagnosis. It's of course at the forefront of my mind, especially with our vet appointment tomorrow afternoon at which he will likely confirm the diagnosis and discuss either further testing or treatment/ no treatment options. I'm comfortable with that. This discussion needs to happen and I need to be able to do it without being emotional.

Yesterday I told one of our priests about the cancer, but I was doing ok with it, and I know he's not a pet person at all, so really, I shouldn't have said anything. He cracked a few jokes, I didn't say much; he reacted as I would expect him to react, but wished he had not. I can forgive him for being himself, and really, I just figured that this bit of news should just have been kept for other dog lovers, no matter how devastating it is to me. It's not within the role of priest to deal with dog cancer. Father made some kind of a comment that I should not expect him to say a homily about this topic (meaning the dog, end of life issues for dogs, animals in heaven, etc.) He said it in jest, so I don't want to read any comments about "insensitivity" or anything else. I even went along with the joke; it's easier sometimes to let a little humor in, besides, seeing the "funny" side kept me from crying.

Well, I really wish he had warned me. He was the celebrant at the Mass I attended this morning, and his homily was about responding to people who may reveal they have cancer or some other disease, especially if the diagnosis is terminal. Of course, the context of the homily was in direct relation to the gospel and he quoted it several times, but the "damage" was done. All he had to do was mention "terminal cancer" and it was all over for me. I couldn't stop crying. For the rest of Mass, there I was, praying I had enough Kleenex because the tears would not stop. And I was THRILLED to be sitting by myself. There was literally no one else in my pew, save a friend at the far end, and I wished she wasn’t there because she would definitely notice I was crying. (I don't like to be emotional in public.) And thankfully, my immediate area was also sparsely populated.

Just when I thought I had ahold of myself, and was apologizing to God for "losing it" during Mass, completely losing my focus, that little interior voice that is so often God speaking said to me,

"Don't you think this is the place to be when you're grieving?"

For the last day, an idea has been creeping into my head; Mary lost a son. She watched him suffer. She watched him die; she understands grief like no one else on earth. Every time I try to push this thought out of my head, it comes back persistently.
I push it away again. No! He is a DOG! He is not a human! He is not my son! This does NOT compare to Mary's grief and the suffering of Jesus.

And then it comes back harder. "But it IS similar. Yes, he's a dog, but YOU will have to watch him suffer...and then decide when he dies."

I was reminded then that I was not alone in my pew, that I was completely surrounded by the heavenly participants at Mass, and that God knew it was not my intention to be distracted. In fact, his own Mother was right beside me because, even if Fire is only a dog, it is human to love, and death is unnatural; the only rational response to even the idea of death, is grief. The only rational thing for me to do is cry, right there in God's presence because He is the only one who can provide comfort.

I did my best to maintain any composure I could, but the truth slapped me hard today, and it needed to happen. I will have to watch my pet deteriorate. Osteosarcoma is a VERY painful cancer, and I will have to be vigilant; he will be ok sometimes, and in major pain at others. Concessions will have to be made for him in these last weeks or months that he has, depending on how the disease progresses. There won't be anything I can do, other than to watch and respond when I can, and when the time comes, only I can make that call. Only I can say goodbye and some people won't ever understand why this is so painful to do, but God does, for he never intended death.

Every time I wanted to push the thought away, that this isn't real suffering, that this isn't the same as the grief Mary experienced, the thought came back. And finally, God said to me, "Don't you think I can use a dog to teach you about the suffering of my Passion? Don't you think you will understand more clearly what it means to kneel at the foot of the cross beside my Mother if you are watching a creature you love suffer as well? Do you dare to think even a dog's life and death is irrelevant to my plan for YOU?"

And that little voice was right; God can use anything to teach us what He wants us to learn. It will not always be apparent, but when he is that persistent, it's time to listen, learn, and be open to God's grace. There is no such thing as love without suffering, and Jesus has asked us all to suffer with him, to join our sufferings to His, so that none may be in vain.

This morning, after Mass I left through a side door so that I wouldn't have to talk to anyone, anyone other than God. I really wish Father had warned me about his homily, but it may not have made a difference. God wanted to speak to me today, and he used Father's words to do it, in order to open the door for a deeper, more intimate conversation.

There is no such thing as useless suffering; it is different for all of us, but God draws very near to those who suffer. He helps us to embrace the crosses we are given so as to unite ourselves to Jesus in a meaningful way. I never expected that the idea of losing a pet could open me so up to experiencing God's love and presence, but there it is.

A pet is not a child, but for those of us who love animals, whether married or not, whether there are children in the household or not, the loss of a pet is ALWAYS devastating for that pet is literally a “member of the family.” Thus, facing the loss of an animal companion is heartrending, and those of us who are single do not have the rest of the family around to help us through this process. Most of us have lost pets; but this is the first time I have had to face doing so alone, being the sole person charged with making “that decision”, when the time comes. It is an awesome responsibility, for life in all forms has value, and I’ll even admit the life of a spider (a creature I fear and loathe) has value in God’s eyes. He gives us stewardship over the creatures of the earth, both wild and domestic. I realize that here in America we have an inordinate attachment to our domestic creatures, but unless the attachment is out of proportion to properly placed love for human beings, I can’t see this as being outside God’s will. He comes to us where we are, and he uses those very gifts he gives to us, even pets, in order to bring us closer to Him. In speaking only for myself, I am a better person because I have dogs; they must take a certain precedence in my life for they must be fed, they must be taken out, and when they are sick and it is warranted, they must go to the vet. When I come home from work, what I “feel like” doing must take a back seat to the needs of the creatures under my care. Yes, it is sometimes a chore, and makes some things in my life more difficult, but overall, the pets have been beneficial to my own spiritual life, forcing me to continually be disciplined in certain matters, and in fact, has forced me to face certain uncomplimentary traits about myself which were in need of attention.

So facing the loss of this pet, which, unexpectedly, is actually an unwitting conduit of communication and grace from God, has caused me to experience real grief. God gave me this gift; I must be prepared to let the gift go. Perhaps the lesson has been learned, or perhaps this lesson has only been for another test which has yet to come.

God calls us all to kneel at the foot of the cross and take Mary as our own mother, and he does this in different ways at different times of our lives. God called me today to recognize my own suffering and grief, and placed me in a position to offer it at Holy Mass. All I could do was offer tears because I did not have the ability to form words or other intentions, and somehow, I got the sense that my offering was accepted. Sometimes tears convey far more than mere words, and God will NEVER misunderstand our message or our intention.

You have GOT to be KIDDING me! Anathema?

Check THIS out!


I've been ordered by the SSLI to post the following image on my blog, to "warn" people of the heretical content, in order to avoid leading others astray:



Here's the text:

Effective immediately, all individuals who have been excommunicated or who have had their interweblog added to the Index Prohibitum are REQUIRED to display the above placard on any and all of their interweb publications. The notice label is designed to warn all who happen upon such interweb locations that extreme heresy and apostasy lie within. Such measures are absolutely necessary so as to ensure the spiritual safety of all those innocent and impressionable souls who wander about the interweb. ANY HERETIC REFUSING TO CORRECTLY EMPLOY THE MONIKER SHALL BE IMMEDIATELY REPORTED TO THE FIRST KNIGHT SUPREME OF THE HOLY KNIGHTS OF THE TRUELY TRUE CHURCH FOR PUNISHMENT


Are they KIDDING!????

Let's look at this logically; do they seriously think that anyone who disagrees with them will cave in to their made-up "AUTHORITY" and fall all over themselves to warn people that their faithfulness to the ACTUAL Catholic Church is "heretical" in the eyes of SSLI? Riiiiiight.

Here's my response to them:

Bite me.

I'm completely unrepentant. You have NO AUTHORITY.

YOU repent!

I may need to go to Confession for the above response, but IT'S SO WORTH IT!

But I have to ask...is it a sin to mouth off to a schismatic sect with invalid "ordinations"? If so, I'll humbly go confess my absolute unrepentance to a TRUE priest of the Roman Catholic Church, and my mouthiness, and then I'll write a letter to the Pope pledging my undying gratitude to God and my fidelity to the truth, faithful, One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church, which does NOT involve the SSLI.

:-)

I'm going to do a lot of time in Purgatory for this post, aren't I?


*

NOTE: This is a PARODY post in response to a Parody blog; SSLI is a parody and does not exist in the real world. Do not be alarmed.

Small Update on the Greyhound

This morning I took the X-Ray film in to our regular vet clinic. All I had to do was say my name, and the tech reached for the file that was right in front of her. She scanned it quickly and told me that the Dr., our regular Vet, had told her to call me. She grabbed the film to run it back to him; he was actually in the office today, which is a rarity.

Not five minutes later she came back and told me that he wants me to bring Fire in on Monday; we set a 4:30 pm appointment.

My initial instructions were to bring Fire back only if he was still lame. This request to come in so quickly, and right after the Dr. looked at the film...well, it doesn't bode well.

This afternoon I went to the local Greyhound "meet and greet", without my dog. (That's where we bring our dogs in to a Petsmart or Petco so the public can meet them and see how adoptable they are.) I needed to see this group as Fire, my other dog, and I have spent lots of time there, although we haven't gone in awhile due to other committments. The group was happy to see me and I told them right away why my companions weren't present. Two of them have lost Greys to osteosarcoma (bone cancer). It's very hard, and they agreed; just keeping him comfortable on pain meds is the way to go. I think when it gets to the point that I'd have to carry him upstairs for the night, well, that'll be the time to let him go.

We still don't have the offical diagnosis, so maybe I'm just preparing for the worst, but somehow, I think this is the worst. But I've got my Greyhound owner "support group" and I'm thankful for them, and for all the prayers from all of you. It really does help.

First Friday at the Emergency Vet Clinic

I got home tonight and as has been my habit, quickly grabbed Fire's collar before he could leap out of the kennel and spin around to play-bow at me in his typical inside-out-with-joy greeting. With his bad leg, I wanted NO leaping or spinning!

As it was, he didn't do more than hop excitedly. I saw immedately that he was worse. I took him outside right away, and he didn't waste any time...walking was clearly way to painful for him. Fire was not himself.

I took him back in, took the Shepherd out, I fed them, watching Fire out of the corner of my eye. He was still interested in food. Good sign. But he was limping badly, majorly favoring his leg. He was anxious, restless...not good signs.

I went up to change out of my work clothes, anticipating going to Mass, and when I came down, the dogs were done eating and Fire was circling his dog bed. Well, maybe "hovering" is a more correct term - he was trying to figure out how to lie down. He was panting heavily, more so than what the stuffy 78 - degree house would cause.

Clearly, Fire was in some pretty major pain; he's going downhill FAST and very suddenly. Worried, I called my vet clinic. They were closing, but referred me to the emergency animal hospital they use. I called them and described the problem as well as my concern in getting him there; I have a small car, might I hurt him more in transport? They said to bring him in anyway as if he was that bad off, meds would be warranted to make the risk worth it. I agreed. They quoted the cost to come in. I have already written off a few fingers from my left hand.

I called a neighbor to see if she could "dog-sit" my Shepherd. Because she is quite attuned to everything, history has taught me that when I have to take one dog and leave suddenly, she goes nuts trying to follow. The last time she almost ate the inside doorknob and tore the trim off the doorway. Well, my neighbors weren't home, so I opted to just take her with us. I didn't have time to prepare a "special treat" that would keep her busy and calm, especially as we were all already riled up. I hoped she wouldn't be too much of a problem but sensed her presence was needed more for me than for anything else, anyway.

Fire was very excited to be going somewhere, and hobbled along, holding his leg up, still in pain but interested in life. Again, good sign, but I knew that left to its own, this suddenly-worsening injury was not going to clear up.

I feared the worst on my way down and had to constantly shift my thoughts. Being in a panic over the unknown cost, the unknown diagnoses, one of which I didn't want to think about, and which had NOT been suggested in the prior post - bone cancer. I've known several people with Greyhounds who have lost dogs to this disease. I was wondering "what if"? Will I be bringing Fire back home tonight, or saying goodbye? I had to immediately slam the door on that thought process. Way too early to think of that.

There was one dog ahead of us, and they gave us the large examining room. Fire sounded like a freight train, he was panting so heavily in his pain and anxiety, and I'd never seem him drool so excessively or shudder so much! He couldn't lie down, he was tired standing up with all of his rear weight on one leg, and I think they had to put out sandbags to keep the dog drool out of the waiting room.

They took him away to give him a shot of Hydromorphon, a painkiller, at 6:30 tonight. By then, I knew I was not going to make it to the first First Friday Mass I've missed in about a year, maybe more. I said my apologies to Jesus and asked for a "pass". I began to wonder if I should have gone to Mass first so I could have prayed better, etc. I was not thinking clearly, because obviously, I was worried. It was obvious we needed to be right where we were. In the emergency vet clinic. Drooling in anxiety.

Then a tech brought him back to me and told me what some effects of the drug might be, told me they would come back in about 10 when the drug should have worked so they could examine his knee. They returned and couldn't really find anything but what I'd already observed; some very, very light swelling right around the knee (can be palpated but not seen - very minor), and some heat. I confirmed to the Vet that I'd noticed heat earlier on this week and had iced the area, when he indicated that the heat may have more to do with the hot weather and his high temp.

Yes, Fire was running a temp, indicating possible inflammation somewhere.

They wrote up an estimate for an X-Ray, Lyme's disease test, heartworm test, blood test, and to pull fluid from the swollen area. I signed the permission; they are tests needed for diagnosis. As I have a certain amount of medical training myself and have other life exposure to reasonable medical things, well, I knew that what they suggested was all reasonable. I put it in God's hands and signed the permission. $375.00 for the tests/ visit, excluding the painkiller already given.

The Vet suspected Lyme's disease both because it's the season and, in spite of the fact we use Frontline religiously, the symptoms match. I had considered that as well earlier this week so wasn't surprised to hear that come up. Truth be told, I would have inquired about it if he hadn't mentioned it.

The vet came back and said Lymes' was negative, platelets were low, they got nothing from the fluid around the knee at all, no indication of soft-tissue injury. So he put the X-Ray film up and I saw what might be the problem before he even pointed to it.

I remained silent, hoping he would say something else as he pointed to the dark area at the superior portion of the proximal tibia. He pointed out that the knee looked normal, no sign of a tear or other injury. But there was a dark spot, a couple of them, and a "moth-eaten", as he called it, appearance on the lateral aspect of the tibia. (The tibia is one of the bones of the lower leg - dogs and humans have a very similar bone structure to our legs. The tibia is the larger of two lower leg bones; the other is the fibula.) As he described what he was seeing in the film, I didn't wait for his possible diagnosis.

"Are you thinking bone cancer?" Sometimes it's best to be direct and to the point. Get it over with; if it's bad news, say it, call it what it is, be honest, be truthful, even if the truth is brutal and heartbreaking.

Yes, he was thinking it was bone cancer. He didn't want me to worry; no, of course not. But Fire is at the right age, and the Vet was really just recommending I take the films to a radiologist for a consult, at the cost of "less than $100.00"), and he's right here in town. The alternative is to take it to my vet, have him review it for another opinion. Get a bone biopsy if it seems indicated, or maybe the radiologist/ other vet would recommend not really worrying, but rather, re-take the pictures in another month. Or get a biopsy right away.

I asked the Vet if he thought that the joint pain was related to what might-be-cancer, or, whether it is or is not, is it possibly a part of something else or just a tweak that lead us to discover this other possible issue?

He told me that the symptoms of inflammation - the fever, low platelets, and lameness - could all be related to the cancer, if that's what it is.

I inquired about the acute appearance of the symptoms....limping less than a week, suddenly bad today. Are those symptoms of cancer, being so suddn?

Yes. That's what happened to his dog. He looked at me sympathetically, if stoically. This vet was more reserved than most I have known, but likely because he is all business; it's easier that way. I was actually surprised he mentioned his own pet - he didn't seem the type to bring his own experience into the conversation.

He clearly felt that I should take the films to a specialist versus my own vet, and be aggressive about it, but told me it was at my discretion, and in any case, said a second opinion is never a bad thing. I asked him about just waiting a month. What would happen then?

He told me that it all depended on how aggressive I wanted to be. He didn't look me in the eye. That said more than anything else.

From the way the conversation went, I'm certain this vet does believe it is bone cancer, and I have to concur, albeit in my very inexperienced and uneducated way. But I saw the spots, too. I know people who have lost their Greys to this cancer, and it started in the knee/ hip. They discovered it suddenly, and lost their pets not long after.

A heartbreaking story...one friend came home to find her female Grey lying at the base of the stairs, panting. She had broken her leg. They took her to the vet, completely mystified as to how this had happened - and that's how they found the cancer. They put her in a cast, kept her comfortable, and let her go. Some people removed the offending cancer, meaning the entire leg, paid for chemo - and then let the dog go.

I don't have an official diagnosis, but now I'm faced with a very real decision, and one that needs to be made aggressively. They can't ID cancer without a bone biopsy, and it's logical to have a radiological consult before doing something so invasive. I can't afford a myriad of tests at hundreds a pop, just to diagnose or rule out. I can't make a decision without the information. Clearly, I will have to pay for a test here, but I think I will look to my own vet first. He is a greyhound expert, which is why I go there, and this is th clinic where I adopted my Grey. Dr. Barr is wonderful, and they are not in the habit of ordering unnecessary tests. Nor will they mince words. I need them not to mince words.

I can't let my dog suffer because I quit my job. And in reality, I'm not sure my employment status would make a difference. I have looked at this question before, when considering my friends' experiences. What would I do in their shoes? What makes sense? What can I afford? What SHOULD be done? After all, he is a dog. I love him, but he is a dog, not a human. Where do I draw the line as to what is appropriate, and when I should make that call?

Suddenly, I am in their shoes, and they are even more uncomfortable than I had imagined. Not only is my heart breaking, but I'm out of kleenex and I sound like a coldhearted bitch while I speak of a beloved pet in sterile medical terms.

In my heart, I do believe it's cancer, and I'm not surprised, because bone cancer is very common in Greyhouns. Maybe I'm jumping the gun, but in this case, I need to; I can't face this without considering all angles, especially those I don't want to see. I don't want to consider cancer and possibly putting him down, thus I HAVE to consider it, and taking it all within cotext, seeing the X-Ray, knowing the Vet has seen this up close and personal...well, time to face reality.

I may not have much time left with my Fire. Tomorrow I'll bring the film to my own Vet, and then, when he has reviewed them, we can talk about the options, the possible outcomes, the costs, and what it will take for me to keep my boy comfortable and see him out of this world. And what his life expectancy is.

Tonight, I missed Mass. I made a Spiritual Communion around the time real Communion would have been offered tonight, and I had my Magnificat, so while I waited for Fire's tests to be completed and petted my German Shepherd,happy I had my own form of "pet therapy", I read the readings, finding the Gospel for tonight to be especially comforting.

"I desire mercy, not sacrifice."

I came back to that line over and over again. Until that moment, I had been feeling guilty for not being at Mass, even understanding that it was God's will that I be at the Vet clinic tonight. "I desire Mercy, not Sacrifice."

Tonight I was faced with a decision; offer an imperfect sacrifice of my own by overcoming my own will and attending Mass (sometimes I don't want to go), attending the Holy Sacrifice....or....making a sacrifice of mercy and justice for one of God's creatures?

Fire is now on anti-inflammatories, pain meds, and antibiotics. He is finally lying down. He has stopped panting, and I will be sleeping downstairs tonight so as to keep an eye on him in order to respond to any problems.

All I wanted to do when leaving the clinic was to go to Adoration, to kneel at Jesus' feet and take my tears straighit to him, pray about the next step. But I'm home tonight; I have to watch for drug reactions or other complications, and this is where I belong.

I don't understand why, but I've noticed that when we face our greatest trials, all too often we do not have recourse to the True Presence and have to make our own offerings from afar, suffering without any direct consolations. I think this is a form of spiritual darkness meant for our purification, but I really wish God didn't order things this way! Yet here I am, and this is where God wants me to be. So be it.

I don't know what's going to happen, and I'm terrified. I fear that there's a decision coming that I don't want to make, but tonight, as I sat in the clinic waiting, reading Magnificat, I knew that I was not alone, not by any means. I knew, thanks to all the comments of the previous post, that people are praying, and that no suffering exists without notice. I do not believe that it was insignificant that this happened on a First Friday, and I offered this evening to the Sacred Heart. What else can I do? I could barely pray because any conversation with God brought me to tears, which would not have been helpful for anyone there. Thank God I had brought my Shepherd with me. As it turns out, pet therapy works! At least, it kept me focuses on helping her shed and not on my wandering thoughts. My apologies to the vet clinic for all the hair left behind. And for the dog drool.

For now, Fire seems to be ok, but I am glad he doesn't know what's coming next. I wish I could live in such trust.


Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in thee!