Slander of Vatican II and the Tridentine Mass

I am constantly shaking my head over people who claim to be "Catholic" and embrace Vatican II...yet by their comments, they have clearly never bothered to read what the documents actually said. Nor do they have any idea what it means to be Catholic.

Pope John Paul II dedicated his pontificate to Vatican II, so time and time again TOLD PEOPLE TO READ THE DOCUMENTS!!! And yet, here we are, with ignorance being spewed, and now the Old Mass being slandered right along with Vatican II. If these people understood how foolish they are for speaking such nonsense, they might never speak again. I know I used to feel that way once I took the time to ask my questions...and was confronted with reality. It's embarassing to be caught with one's foot deeply inserted into one's mouth.

What is causing this tirade? Thanks for asking. Check out this article, of which I will post excerpts of special interest.

But the Latin Mass has stirred controversy — partly because its Good Friday liturgy includes an explicit prayer for the conversion of Jews and refers to their "blindness" and "darkness."

Actually, my understanding is that this is complete fallacy. While the original text specifically prayed for the conversion of the Jews, the current translation which is to be used has removed this language. Can someone verify this for me, and those for whom it is a concern?

As far as my own opinion goes (it's my blog; I get to share my opinions, shrinking violet that I am), I am happy to admit I do pray for the conversion of the Jews to the fullness of the faith, for the Messiah has come, and He came for them, too, if they but had eyes to see. If we are Catholic, then we SHOULD be praying for the conversion of the Jews, for don't we want them to have what we have? Aren't we praying for the conversion of the Baptists, the Evangelicals, the Muslims, the Atheists, the Agnostics, the Buddhists, the Hindus, etc etc? If we are praying for all religions EXCEPT those who embrace Judaism, doesn't that make us anti-semite???

Give me a break! It's our CALL to pray for the conversion of all those NOT CATHOLIC! Ecumenism is not about watering down our faith and making it palatable to those who disagree; rather, ecumenism is about sharing our faith and praying that others embrace it and come into the fullness of the Catholic Church.

Which, brings us to the next quote:

The more conciliatory post-Vatican II language calls the Jews "the first to hear the word of God" and prays for them to "arrive at the fullness of redemption."

Um, that post-Vatican II language is another way of saying "conversion". Thank you for making my point. Or rather, the Church's point.

But Kathleen Kennedy, a Catholic from Swatara Twp., said the old language troubles her. "I think the problem is that Christianity has such a poor track record of interacting with Jews and Judaism," she said

Hi, Kathleen. Maybe that's partly true, but have you ever heard of a small, little-known Pope by the name of John Paul II? Or what about "Hitler's Pope" who was anything but, and actually saved THOUSANDS of Jews during the Holocaust? Please study history...apart from the popular media, that is, because they never get it right...even current affairs.

Some Catholics are dismayed by the direction of the pope, who recently not only encouraged wider celebration of the Latin Mass but asserted that Protestant and Orthodox churches are defective.

That's not what Pope Benedict XVI said. Rather, if these "Catholics" had bothered to actually READ what was said, the actual words of the Pope and not what the Washington Times or The Journal of American Idiocy, or whatever News Rag they like to read reported he said, they would realize that the Pope simply reasserted Catholic teaching. And in fact, the Pope stated the Truth; that the Catholic Church is the fullness of the faith, and other Christian religions, while they have a portion of the Truth, do not have ALL of it. We, as Catholics, members of the Church instituted by Christ, have what is called the fullness of the faith. Thus, this is the reason other Christian Churches are called "denominations." The prefix to the term "Denomination" indicates a subtraction. Thus, all other Christian faiths are missing part of the equation. The Catholic Church is NOT a "denomination". We have it all, and to state otherwise is a betrayal of Christ. Do we expect the Christian Denominations to agree with us? No. Nor did the Pope. His audience was not the world in that particular address, but rather, he was speaking to Catholics, his primary flock.

"I remember Vatican II with great joy, and I am so saddened that there seems to be a move by this pope to make it a thing of the past or even say it was misguided," said a eucharistic minister from Lemoyne, asking not to be identified for fear of offending people she serves.

OK, first of all, let's correct the term "Eucharistic Minister." The ONLY Eucharistic Ministers are men ordained as priests or deacons. (Holy Orders) Period. The proper term for the laity who assist in the distribution of the Blessed Sacrament during Mass, or to hospitals and the homebound is "Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion", or "EHMC", or "Extraordinary Minister", for their ministry is extraordinary, not formal.

Now that that bit of catechesis is out of the way; His Holiness Benedict XVI IS reinforcing what Vatican II actually taught. He is not, contrary to popular ignorance, making it a "thing of the past." In fact, it's clear he is completely EMBRACING Vatican II and trying to help us all do the same.

In the document on the Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, which is the Vatican II document most abused, slandered and libeled, it states very clearly:

ARTICLE 36. 1. Particular law remaining in force, the use of the Latin language is to be preserved in the Latin rites

ARTICLE 54. In Masses which are celebrated with the people, a suitable place may be allotted to their mother tongue. This is to apply in the first place to the readings and "the common prayer," but also, as local conditions may warrant, to those parts which pertain to the people, according to tho norm laid down in Art. 36 of this Constitution

Nevertheless steps should be taken so that the faithful may also be able to say or to sing together in Latin those parts of the Ordinary of the Mass which pertain to them.

So we see, the Pope is not out of line to make the Old Mass more available; rather, he is trying to assert the formal teachings and recommendations of the Vatican II document on the Liturgy.

So, given this evidence, I must ascertain that the person who was quoted in this article who refused to be named might have actually feared that her ignorance might be found out. I find it far more offensive not that she is uncatechized, but that she is very representative of the majority of Catholics who really haven't the slightest idea what the Church teaches or why. I'm offended because, we, the laity, have been neglected, we have been mislead, and now when someone legitimately tries to teach us the truth, we spout off ignorance that reflects upon us and NOT those who are responsible for the bad catechesis.

Oh, yes, I am offended. After all, the following soul so exemplifies the misunderstanding of the role of the Church AS an anchor:

The church "should be a rudder and help us move forward into the centuries," said Lou Gehosky, 66, of New Cumberland. "But this is worse than an anchor."

In other words, the Church is doing what she should; keeping us from going with the currents. In movies, those who go with the current tend to go over big waterfalls or dams. And we know about waterfalls and dams; they drag bodies down, hold them under and drown them, and if they eventually release them, they are no longer live bodies, but corpses.

Thank you, Jesus, for instituting Holy Mother Church, for providing us the Water of Life, the Anchor (ROCK) of safety, and the Eternal Truth that keeps us from being damned by the fickle yet powerful currents of modern times. Amen.

To Mr. Gehosky; if you want to let go of the anchor, go ahead. But we'd all prefer you hold on a little longer, and read the inscription on the anchor you currently condemn. That anchor is there to save you. Ask any sailor caught in a storm.

The pope's recent decrees provide more evidence of how conservative the Catholic hierarchy has become, said Chester Gillis, professor of theology at Georgetown University.

Well, in all honesty, Georgetown University has no credibilty here. They aren't actually Catholic. And basically, what Mr. Gillis is saying is that, once again, the Pope has professed that he, and the Catholic Church, are Catholic. How Shocking!

Pope John Paul II's 27-year tenure left that legacy.

Praise God and thank you, John Paul the Great!

Another example emerged recently in Harrisburg, when indulgences, pledges of personal sacrifice and worship intended to reduce the time souls spend in purgatory, were offered for pilgrimages to St. Patrick Cathedral during this, its 100th anniversary year.

Indulgences, whose abuse helped spur the Reformation, are understood to reduce the time a believer spends in purgatory after death. Downplayed after Vatican II, they were revived in 2000.

Shortly after his decree on the Latin Mass, Pope Benedict asserted that though other Christians might find salvation, Catholics represent the one true "Church of Christ."

OK, this quote is actually a conglomeration of formal ignorance, lazy journalism, and pretty much is a transition designed to throw people off. It's a strawman, a red herring, and plays only to the ignorance of the masses, both Catholic and non-Catholic.

Indulgences don't have anything to do with this article, and they have been completely misrepresented. They were, in fact, downplayed after Vatican II, but it had nothing to do with the abuses of bad Popes, but rather, with the complete spiritual acedia that actively quashed devotions in the THC-inspired air of the late 60's and early 70's.

And, in fact, the Catholic Church IS the "one Church of Christ". I wouldn't be Catholic if I didn't believe this. Nor would be the Pope.

People, listen to the Pope. Listen to John Paul II who TOLD you all to read the Documents of Vatican II. They're all readily available.

One of the things Vatican II recognized was a need for the active involvement of the laity in life in general. It is the job of the priest to preach the Gospel to us, to offer the Sacraments, and to "raise" us as children of God. The priest is called out of the world, so as to enable the children of the world to go out and spread the Good News of Christ. THAT is what is meant by "active participation". The Church is not the domain of the priest; but the priest is acting as our spiritual Father. He is our Shepherd. Vatican II defines this, and John Paul II continually taught that Man must be the way of the Church in the modern world, that all are called to holiness, all are called to this renewal. We, the laity, are in the world, here to serve the world...in order to bring the world to Christ.

Read the documents. Really. You can find them all HERE.

Fun with Translators!

I took a hint given in a post below and found the Google Translator, and used it to translate the German web pages that had linked to me. The (badly) translated page had a link to the "original" post, which, by the way, is HILARIOUS.

Just for a few laughs, here's this post:

8. The “Opener” refers ton the roofridge day OF more deer season and the roofridge day OF fishing season. It's A religious holiday hero, respectively, on the closest Saturday ton the roofridge OF November and the second weekend OF May, usually Mother's Day. The related holidays celebrating Hunting and Fishing Widows of acres hero on the same DATEs.

9. Incoming goods open doors for ladies. That of applies ton of all ladies, emergency
necessarily all women.

What!? Or if we read on:

13. College and High School football is as important here as the Lakers and the of break, and A brightly OF A plumb bob more fun ton watch.

16. Incoming goods have more folks into the Army, Navy, air Force, marine, and Coast Guard than any OTHER state, so “Don't screw with Minnesota.” If you DO, you wants GET whipped by the stocks “

I'm not even sure what that MEANS! People, I'm crying here! Check out what the translator did to some of the comments:

Monday, July 30, 2007
Sanctus barks said…
Hey great post office! Forget don't measuring with Texas - measuring don't with Minnesota!

Oh, my goodness, I could not make this up. Sanctus BARKS???? ROFL! It's like a mirror site of my blog written in delusional-world!

Seriously, you guys gotta try this. I'm betting it'll work if you use the Google translator, translate to another language and then back to English...see what happens. (scroll down to get to the links that translate entire web pages.) And post the results for the mirth of all!

Unexpected Blessings

I just love how the Lord works. He constantly blows me away with his love and mercy, with the smallest of concerns. In fact...there are no concerns too small for God. Today was a lesson in that.

I went to Adoration this afternoon, and ne of the things I prayed about was my dreams involving Fire. I know I did the right thing, I was there, I said goodbye, and yes, I miss him. Jesus and I had a great discussion about that, and he said that he speaks to us in dreams...why am I not listening? I so rarely understand when such cryptic things come to me in prayer, so I just threw my hands up as usual (so to speak) and asked him to reveal himself and what he meant. That part of my prayer was answered today; it is that other people feel as I do when they suffer a loss, and sometimes, we are in the circumstances in which we can provide that answer to another soul. I will explain.

While I was there, I sensed that I should take my dog to the dog park this afternoon for awhile. I didn't really want to go; while I love going there, today is a warm day, it's rush hour, and a thousand other excuses. And then I was guilty for being distracted in prayer. I wasn't sure what I would do, but en route home from the church, I knew I had to go to the dog park. I figured I'd let her chase a ball for awhile, give her water, and come home. And that's what happened...but there's more to the story.

This is where it gets good...

There was no one at the park when we arrived, which wasn't surprising. 4 pm on a Thursday afternoon? People are at work, and it's a hot day. My German Shepherd and I are the only nutjobs dumb enough to be out on such an afternoon.

I was thinking about leaving when a car pulled up behind mine and a woman got out with her dog. I figured my dog could use some canine contact so decided to stay. Sure enough, the new dog made a beeline for us, and the woman who arrived commented that my dog looked just like Sadie.

She asked me where I got her? "The Humane Society", I told her. "A few years ago."

She was insisting that she never thought she'd see this dog again...that was Sadie. I told her that when I adopted her, she was called "Sugar Bear" and I had to change the name.

By this time, the woman was very excited, and I was a little shocked. "That's Her! When we got her, she was called Sugar Bear! We called her Sadie! CAN I HUG YOU? We were heartbroken when my parents had to give her up!"

So this afternoon, that's how I found myself hugging a stranger in a dog park in suburbia.

For a little backstory....when I adopted my girl, the Humane Society gave me her history. First she was brought in by a girl who was going to college, so had to give her up. Then a woman adopted her for her parents, who had recently lost their dog. She had a good home with that couple, but the man was diagnosed with terminal cancer, they realized they could not care for her, so found her a home. Those people couldn't care for her so brought her back to the Humane Society. She was adopted once or twice after that, and then came to me, where she has been ever since.

The woman I met today is the same one who adopted her for her parents! She explained that they were heartbroken; they LOVED this dog to death and always wondered what had become of her. J., the woman I spoke with today, revealed that she and her husband wanted to adopt her but they had cats and "Sadie" was not good with cats. So they, too, were heartbroken because they'd fallen in love with this sweet-natured German Shepherd. J. said that she had prayed to God that she'd found a good home, and was worried she'd gone to some crazy family that ignored her or treated her badly. All she wanted to know was whether their "Sadie" was all right.

She looked at me, then, thrilled. She could see with her own eyes that "Sadie", now Tikaani, is wonderful. She's healthy, happy, and has a good home. I told her how she came to be with me and how she's been...she was familiar with some of her behaviors, asked how that had gone, and it was just an amazing conversation.

And just to make the Hand of God so clear; she was there today with a dog that does not belong to her. She is taking care of her while her relatives are out of town, but they are coming back and today was her last day at the park as she does not have a dog of her own right now.

Can there really be any doubt that my presence there today had nothing to do with me, or my dog, but the answer to a prayer for a woman who wanted a little grace,a little peace, and made her request out of love? I'm not sure which of us was more blessed today:  me, for having a front seat to God's abundant love, or her, for having recieved the answer to a humble prayer?

But there's another facet to our meeting, perhaps a much deeper one. When she pulled up behind my car, not knowing at the time that she was about to be reunited with a favored pet, she took note of my bumper stickers. I have a pro-life sticker from a verse from Isaiah: "Before you were formed in the womb I knew you..." (It says more but I forget the rest.)

She commented, "Oh! A woman after my own heart!" She explained she and her husband are trying to conceive, so abortion really ticks her off. Here they are trying so hard to bring a new life into the world, and others are slaughtering their children. They are now looking to adopt, but still have hope God may bless their marriage with their own children.

I had the sense she is not Catholic, but is a practicing Christian. I asked her if she'd heard of the Pope Paul VI center. It's not based in MN, but she asked if they have something local? She knows people who went through a Christian fertility center, but doesn't know what it's called. Since I'm not married and don't have children, I'm not familiar with local resources, so I just suggested she look into NFP or look for an NFP only doctor...I explained that there is a ton of science behind NFP and couples have used this method TO BECOME PREGNANT when faced with fertility issues. She didn't seem thrilled, so didn't comment and slightly changed the subject.

So I am asking you all for prayers for her and her husband. She seems to be a delightful person, is my age, maybe a little younger and had she not told me she has no children, I would have assumed she was a mother. She SEEMS like a mother, and is clearly a very loving soul.

She did take my email down, so if any of you, esp. from the Mpls.- St. Paul area are familiar with good Catholic and other Christian fertility clinics (read: no in-vitro, no contraceptive chemicals, no tube babies, no surrogate, etc.), please post links. I know about omsoul.org and the Paul VI Institute (I think that's what it's called)and the Couple to Couple League, but is there anything else locally? I'd love to be able to send her some links if she does email me.

Above all, keep this couple in your prayers, that the Lord will bless their marriage and grant them a new life to nurture and offer for His glory.

Eight Facts/Habits Meme

Vito of The Long Road to Priesthood tagged me for a Meme. Here are the rules:

"The rules are simple…Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog."

1. Some kids tried to shoot a friend of mine and I as we ran through the woods on the way to her house when we were 12. I remember hearing a shot and just next to my head, some bark flew off of a tree and hit me. I will never forget what the freshly-exposed wood looked like. And yes, they knew we weren't deer. And I can still identify them.

2. Several years ago, I got heat exhaustion when I went running in 102 F. heat with 90% humidity, in southern MN. For the record, I thought it was 98 degrees, I was dehydrated from the previous night (ahem), and my "run" was more of a walk because I was only mostly stupid. I don't remember most of my return home, but I can no longer tolerate heat like I did in the past. I am thankful to be alive because nobody knew where I was or what I was doing that day, and I was too stupid to call for help when I got home.

3. I love naps. There is nothing in the world like a good nap.

4. I used to be fluent in Spanish. Now I can carry on conversations, but with a certain amout of labored thought and bad conjugations. (As an aside...if there are any of you who speak German, let me know. This post linked to me and I have no idea what it says. There's another one but I'm fishing for German-speakers first)

5. I'm not entirely sure what my natural hair color is anymore

6. I have two tattoos, both obtained in my late 20's. One is a howling coyote on my left shoulderblade. The other is a galloping horse on my lower back.

7. I designed the horse tattoo myself but had to have the tattoo artist draw it himself to make sure it "matched" in size and general aspect the coyote I already had. During this process, I had to correct his drawing and basically teach him how to draw a horse, so the final result is actually not my own work but looks amazingly like a little neglected Arabian I nearly adopted a few years ago.

8. I got kicked off the property of a local horse ranch (trail rides and boarding offered there) for reportng the abuse/neglect of said bay Arabian horse in the boarders' pasture. I submitted photos to substantiate my claim, made the report anonymously, and the ranch owner figured out it was me and banned me. The claim WAS founded and the Humane Society in Carver County did react to improve the little gelding's condition.


I'm actually not going to directly tag anyone as I've done this Meme before and, I think so has everyone else. So if you are a frequent commenter with a blog who has not been tagged, please comment that you are "playing" and I will link you. If you are a commenter without a blog but want to answer, post away!

I KNEW IT!

I just found this article on KSTP.com, and it just confirms what I already sensed....every damn time I crossed that bridge, which, by the way, was several times per week in a typical week. I had no basis for my sense of unrest, but for the last several years of having to cross it to get to St. Paul Impound, I always felt queasy. I could not keep my thoughts from wandering into the "what if it collapses?" scenario. So, you see, the only surprise I truely felt at the I-35 W collapse was the fact that it was that bridge that went, and not the Laffayette Bridge in St. Paul. To be clear, the I-35 W bridge also gave me the heebie-jeebies, but not to the degree the St. Paul bridge did. Thankfully I'm no longer in that job, and I live on the far side of the Metro area from it....but if life takes me in that direction, I'll find alternative routes, even if it involves swimming the Mississippi.

ST. PAUL (AP) - A heavily-traveled bridge over the Mississippi River in St. Paul has raised some of the same safety concerns as the interstate bridge that collapsed in Minneapolis, and isn't slated for replacement until 2011.

Like the collapsed bridge, the Lafayette Bridge - which carries Highway 52 over the river just east of downtown St. Paul - is considered structurally deficient, with a sufficiency rating just under what the I-35W span was rated. Also like that bridge, the Lafayette is "fracture-critical," meaning that if one part fails the whole bridge could fail.

The Lafayette carries 81,000 vehicles a day, making it the state's most-traveled bridge with troubles similar to the I-35W bridge. Its history includes a temporary shutdown in 1975, less than a decade after its 1968 opening, when a crack was discovered that was described at the time as large enough to put your arm into.

That fracture in the southbound lane nearly resulted "in (the) collapse of the bridge," according to a 2006 inspection report. The damaged component was jacked back into place and reinforced with bolted plates, the report said.

"That's a bridge we've been watching for a number of years," said Department of Transportation spokesman Kent Barnard. He added that its condition is "nothing ominous, nothing threatening."

Barnard said he drives across the bridge two to three times a week and doesn't worry about it.

But Mike Legato does worry about it. The St. Paul construction worker says there are times, especially if traffic is heavy and cars are bumper to bumper, that he can feel the bridge rattle and shake on his daily commute.

"When you're stopped, you really feel it," he said.

Khani Sahebjam, an engineer for the Metropolitan District of the state Department of Transportation, said he knew of no plans to accelerate the timetable for reconstruction. But he acknowledged that priorities could change.

"Of course it's all tied to possible future funding," Sahebjam said. "Right now, with this situation, the focus is on bridges, so maybe bridges will be done sooner."

Bridges do vibrate and are designed to do so, Sahebjam said.

St. Paul City Engineer John Maczko said he hopes the I-35W collapse will result in a quicker replacement for the Lafayette Bridge.

"I would think that this has shaken them (MnDOT) to the bone," Maczko said.

The Gift of Fire

Three years ago today, I adopted a greyhound, the realization of a dream, for I'd long wanted one of these wonderful animals to grace my home. And indeed, the retired racer who headlined under the name Keystone Fire, became my own personal couch potato named Fire. He was a special dog; even people who didn't like big dogs found themselves hugging him and confessing they wanted to take him home with them. I would just nod and smile; that's how Fire came home with me, too.

One week ago today, Fire and I took a trip to the vet for the last time. One week ago...one week short of our anniversary. Only one week.

Last Monday when I went to work, I did not kennel Fire, seeing that he spent most of his time lying with his legs outstretched, and I did not want him to be obliged to remain folded up in his kennel all day. I knew he would not be playing with the Shepherd all day, so I left him as he was. Upon returning home, his paw and lower leg had swollen greatly, so I spent the evening with him, watching a movie, and placing ice and cold packs on his leg. He was panting and just radiated heat, but I was in denial. I knew the time was close, but I was still looking ahead...let's get through the weekend, let's get into next week. Can we at least get to next Tuesday?

I didn't want to admit it was time. I saw life in him. I saw the same sweet gaze in his eyes, and when the ice packs clearly helped to alleviate his pain, I allowed hope to be renewed in me. Fire's respirations slowed and he closed his eyes to take a nap, never making a move to growl or snap or do anything to indicate I was causing him pain. He trusted me so much, looking to me to relieve the pain he did not understand.

At 2:30 am, I got up to give Fire his Tramadol, and had to wake him up; he had been sleeping well. That morning I got up and Fire made no move to get up and eat as he had on Monday morning. No matter; I brought him breakfast in bed, and sat next to him, watching him eat, having a sense we would not do this again. These were special moments. When I took the Shepherd out for her walk, we shortened it greatly...something told me to go home NOW, something told me that today was the day, and I could not stop the tears that continued to well up in my eyes. When the heart speaks, one must listen. Truth is a sword that cuts deeply.

I remained home that morning, working from home, having to leave once to inspect a nearby car. I called my Manager to explain what I was doing, and told him that I'd be in after Fire's 10:00 am meds, but I'd have to come home right away to be with him. I told my manager that I thought we'd be taking a trip to the vet that afternoon...for the last time... and I choked up on the phone. I knew the truth in what I said, but hoped it wasn't true. I still had hope I could have my buddy with me for a few more days. Just a few more days. That's all I asked. Just a few more days, even when I knew it was time.

I gave Fire his Tramadol a little early, not at the 8 hour interval but closer to 7 hours. He was in pain; the Rimadyl with breakfast wasn't doing much, but I hoped the opiate would do something for him. I felt so guilty for leaving. Fire obviously did not want to be alone. Whenever I had come in the door with my other dog, he'd struggle to his feet. If I went upstairs, he'd stand at the bottom, waiting, perhaps allowing a soft whine to escape. I comforted myself by saying that in a few days I'd be done and would remain by his side. Just a few days, God, please? Just a little more time....

As I drove in to work, I continued to weep, silently, begging God for more time, but knowing this was it. This was the day. So I arrived at the office, dropped off some equipment and issued a couple checks, and left, taking some tedious work with me...something to focus me, something that could be done without having to speak to anyone.

When I arrived home, Fire was in terrible pain, so it was immediately obvious that the drugs were no longer working. My worst fear was confirmed. It was time. Fire looked at me, and then began licking his leg, stopping only to pant on it, his agony obvious. He looked at me, asking me to do something, for as a dog, he could not understand what was happening. He knew only that he was in terrible pain and it was my job to do something about it, and I wasn't doing anything.

I knelt down beside him, asking him to "shake", which usually would prompt him to stretch his paw towards me while also extending his head towards me for a pat. He didn't have the energy to lift his paw, but he did ask to be scratched, so I took his head in my hands, looked into his devoted brown eyes, and asked him....is it time? What do you think, Buddy...is it time? Is it time to go?

Fire pulled away and looked at his leg, licking it again, panting again. Then he looked back at me. That was the answer; it was time. I couldn't relieve his pain, and I suspected he was also going into kidney failure. Drugs could no longer help him. Ice wouldn't relieve his suffering.

He was looking to me to make it better...and so I did the only thing I knew to do, because the time had come. I picked up the phone and called the vet, telling them it was time to put my dog to sleep. And as I said the words, I choked back the tears, but my grief was obvious to the person who answered the phone. She told me to come in whenever we were ready, to take our time.

I sat down next to Fire as he panted. I sobbed, not believing that the end had come only 10 days after the cancer was confirmed on the X-ray. Only 10 days.

Finally, I positioned myself on the floor next to him, rosary in hand, and I offered the Sorrowful Mysteries while gazing up at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, one hand always in contact with Fire. I didn't know what I was praying for, exactly, other than strength to do what had to be done. Safety in getting there; safety in getting home. And whatever God thought was needed.

Death was never intended, for man or beast; and here I was facing death, knowing that God even cares about the most humble of creatures. And God was calling for Fire's brief life to end. He was only 6 years old, would not see either our 3 year anniversary or his 7th birthday in September.

The time had come; I could not wait all day as Fire suffered so terribly. So we went through our "poty" routine...first the Shepherd, then I prepared the house for our departure, giving her a very nice treat. Soemthing that would allow me to get out the door with my greyhound. It's hard to fool a Shepherd, but that day, the Angels must have been running a diversion. I was calm by then, still tearful, but moving deliberately and carefully so as not to upset the other dog, and Fire was eager to go outside. I really did intend to take him to go potty but when he got to my car, he stopped at the rear door and would go no further.

I think even he knew where we were going. I bent down and scooped him up, both arms underneath, and he was lighter than I expected, and didn't even struggle as I set him in. He had some difficulty getting his rear leg under him so he could stand in the back seat of my small car, but once he was there, he leaned against the seat back, panting.

Fire never laid down in the car, and that day was no exception. So I drove even more carefully than usual with this precious cargo, not wanting his last moments of sunlight to be worse than they already were.

When we arrived at the clinic, Fire got out and immediately went to a bush to make his mark, but wasn't interested in sniffing around any further. I gave him the opportunity, knowing this was his last time to spend time in the sun. But no...he actually wanted to go inside. I'd never had such an easy time getting him through the door.

All I had to say when I walked in was "This is Fire", and they nodded. They needed no more info this time. They knew why we were there, and even if they hadn't, one glance at the dog with his swollen leg and wasted frame, my tearstained cheeks and puffy eyes would have answered all their questions. We were lead to an examining room, and a dogbed was brought for Fire. But true to his typical behavior, he did not want to lie down.

The tech came in and first verified why we were there. She was direct, but gentle in her tone. There's no other way to ask that question and I appreciated her ability to do so quickly and compassionately. She went on to explaine that it would be easier on Fire if we gave him a sedative to help him relax, and to hopefully help him to lie down; I agreed. The vet later reinforced that with bone cancer, they always recommend the sedative because the pain stiffens them so much, and makes their last moments of life easier on both the pet and the owner. The tech spent some time talking to me, got some info as to how the cancer had progressed, and assured me that we were doing the right thing; it was time. If something else could be done for Fire, they would be offering it. But there was nothing else. Our options were exhausted.

The sedative took effect and I helped Fire lie down on the dogbed, hugged him fiercely for a moment, and then took my place at his head. The vet came back in and asked if I wanted some more time with him...was I ready? I told him I was...this wasn't going to get any easier, nor would Fire be any less deceased at the end of the day.

He was no longer reacting to me, just resting, was maybe already asleep. But I stroked his soft fur, his long neck, and my tears fell upon his head while the vet gave the injection. Another tech was present, kneeling behind Fire, petting him also. So it was that I was holding Fire's head in my hands as his life, and his suffering, left him. The shuddering from the final, agonal respirations reverberated up my arms, and I felt the last breath agaist my skin...and Fire relaxed for the last time. The vet verified there was no heartbeat and told me, "He's gone." I already knew.

He also told me he'd been through this many times with his own pets and knew how hard it was, offering his condolences. No one wasted time on useless platitudes, understanding that grief is so personal, and words meant nothing.

The Vet asked me if I wanted to keep the collar? Yes, I did, and so he removed it for me, handing it over. I held Fire's leash and his empty collar in my hands, watching as he was carried away. They told me I could stay there as long as necessary until I was ready to drive. No rush. I stood for a moment, staring at the floor where Fire had so recently laid, deeply feeling his loss. I could not remain there.

When I walked in the door, without Fire, I could not believe how empty the house felt. My other dog greeted me then passed me, looking for her "sibling". She looked to me, confused, then tried to check the garage again.

"He's not coming back." I set his collar and leash down, then went and sat on the couch.

I couldn't believe how painful this was; I couldn't believe that this quiet greyhound had had such a big personality, so much so that his presence even at rest just filled the house.

I had been so worried that I would not be able to make the decision. I had in a sense, felt that I was playing God by having to determine the hour of death. I didn't want that responsibility. I didn't want God to trust me with calling out for death of my beloved pet.

I was so focused on the future, I forgot that God was still in charge, and he was not asking me to make that call. He was only asking me to obey.

Only God knows the day and the hour. I was hoping to make it into this week, but God knew better, and He determined the day and the time. And on that day, He spoke to my heart, making me see what I did not want to see. Asking me to obey for it was time, and God was calling Fire "home". So in the end, the only decision I truly made was to recognize the Lord's dominion over creation, and act with the mercy to which I was called to act.

Fire is missed by many people, for, as I said, he was a special dog. I didn't realize until he was gone how much he really meant to me, how much a part of my life he had become. I didn't realize how "big" he was, for he didn't take up much space. But when he fell asleep for the last time, he took a piece of my heart with him into his own dreams. All I can do is remember him fondly, thank God for the gift he was to me, and offer him back...for as long as this hurts, and beyond, I offer Fire back to God because he belonged to Him before he ever entered my home.

Pets are a blessing; we don't adopt pets because we want our lives to be easy. We adopt them because they make our lives better, and show us a facet of God we would not otherwise understand.

There are lessons Fire taught me that may be revealed over time. For now, I am still crying my tears, holding my memories close, and praising God for His abundant love and mercy. Thank you for Fire; thank you for his life, and thank you for allowing me to care for him for a few years. Every life on this earth is a gift; Fire was no exception.

Free Falling

This is my first official day of being unemployed, and it is very strange. I can't believe that after this week, I'm not going back to my office. I can't believe that my money is now limited...and there's not yet anything in sight.

But I still don't regret my decision because I was so miserable, and I knew the consequences facing me had I stayed.

Today I recieved a phone call from one of my posted resumes. She didn't give me a lot of information at first, just wanted to discuss an opening in their "health care unit." I was not familiar with the company name, so I asked her what the position was? She hesitated for a moment, and then told me, "Collections."

I told her I was not interested because I was seeking to return to Social Services/Government, and away from anything to do with Insurance or Finance. And then I thanked her for her interest and for calling.

When I hung up the phone, I wondered if I'd done the wrong thing; after all, beggars can't be choosers...or can we?

But I've had friends who worked in Collections. They pay peanuts, the stress is ridiculous because if they don't make a certain quota, they get canned. One of my prior customers worked for a Collections agency, and was on a dialer, so literally chained to her desk and to her phone. I will not work under those circumstances; I'd sooner go back to what I was doing!

At this point, I still have a certain amount of hope, so I'm not willing to jump just because a recruiter for one of the worst jobs in the world is "impressed" by my resume.

I've known a few people who worked as telemarketers or in collections, and believe me, they are miserable. They hate their jobs, but they are desperate, and most are looking to go elsewhere. They don't take those jobs because it is their dream to tick people off; they take those jobs because at the time they accept it, they have no other choice.

So far, I still have choices, if not any options...yet. Today I planned to submit a cover letter to a particular Social Services/Mental Health position, but upon reading the job description again, I realized that the hours eliminate me; evenings and weekends.

Well, one weekend per month, I'm going to school. And I teach RCIA every Wednesday evening...and one Tuesday evening a month is dedicated to parish leadership.

So, all that time belongs to God; it is a committment I've given to God and thus to my parish, and I intend to continue to fulfill that committment. First seek the Kingdom of God...and He will cause the rest to fall into place.

Some might argue I'll have to give up my parish activities, but I truly feel that if I do this, I am not trusting God in action. This entire thing is in God's arena, it is in his hands, and I am just praying to be doing the right things.

I ask you all for your continued prayers; it is scary to be unemployed and know the money will run out, to have no health insurance, a mortgage, a car payment, and other various bills.

And I know I did the right thing because I left with many many references, but not a single one tried to talk me into staying, even a little longer. They knew it was time, as well.

So now I'm in this free-fall, terrified of the landing, but knowing, somewhere, God is still in charge.

Surreal Week

Last weekend, I still had a greyhound and I was looking forward to my last day at work. My worry for him tainted my joy at leaving my job, but I was looking forward to some "free days" in order to spend time with him, likely to be his last days.

But that's not how it worked. The cancer was end stage, and I will write more about it and what happened, but I can't do it yet. Suffice to say that Tuesdy was a terrible day, I made the hardest decision I have ever made, at the most inconvenient time...and those most impacted showed me nothing but compassion and understanding.

But my grief was so deep on Tuesday, I fell asleep in tears, I woke up and immediately felt Fire's loss...and had to go to work. I'm grateful I had to work, for it kept a certain schedule, preventing me from sitting around in a daze. I couldn't stop my tears, I begged God for help, and I went to work with tearstained cheeks and swollen red eyes, determined to do my job even though my heart was breaking.

Having to talk about it did help, even though, had I had my choice, I would have spent Wednesday locked up not speaking to anyone. But God had other plans for me, and my Manager, who knew what happened, hadn't passed on the news to my co workers. They knew my dog was sick and had cancer; they didn't know why I'd left work, so I had to tell them. There are many pet owners in my office, and they formed an unofficial support group for me on Wednesday, individually, sharing their losses, empathizing with mine, and no one commented when the tears came, no one made a fuss, and somehow, I made it over that hurdle. One co-worker isn't a fan of pets, but she is blessed with a soft heart for the suffering both human and animals, and when I told her I'd had to put my dog to sleep, I could see tears in her own eyes. I quickly made an exit...I barely had control of my emotions, and I could see that she, too, was trying to maintain at that point. So through our shared cube wall our conversation continued...it was easier when neither of us could see emotion.

By the end of the day, a sort of numbness set in, and I walked into a half-empty house, Fire's lack of presence echoing and reverberating. I never realized until then how BIG his presence was. My big red dog wasn't whining to get out of the kennel; the kennel was empty and silent. My Shepherd was even subdued, not having to compete for my affection. I had only one dog to take out...my worry for Fire was gone, and in place of that weight was a heavier, silent weight. So I went about our regular routine...but this time, without the other half of it.

Then I turned on the TV. I wanted to take the Shepherd for a walk; her evening walks had been missed for awhile, for obvious reasons, but on Wednesday evening, the sky was overcast and darkening, so I turned on the TV. I didn't normally watch the 6:00 news because I had access to the news all day at work, via internet, and figured I didn't need to know any more. Much of the stuff I was handling was news-worthy stuff, and I didn't need to see it played out overly-much when I got home. But Wednesday night, I needed the weather.

Almost immediately, I saw the breaking news. I still had the awful numb feeling, so in a disconnected manner, thought the initial reports, without a visual, were referencing the 35W bridge over the Minnesota river that runs between Bloomington and Burnsville about 20-30 minutes south of Minneapolis.

That bridge is closer to the water, would indeed be a disaster, but of a different sort...so initially I still had a vague sense of horror, but I could not grasp what they were saying. University? 10th St? Where is that? I was racking my brain, trying to find the mapping files stored there, for I've driven the length of 35W through the Metro area at least a thousand times since I've lived up here, more than 10 years. What bridge? The information wasn't making sense.

And then they had the initial grainy images from the air...and then I understood. Yet I was still anesthetized by my grief, and now this was added to it. I couldn't move away from the TV...I couldn't do anything but watch, amazed, unbelieving, wondering if anyone I knew was involved or had friends there.

One week ago, for work, I'd driven across that bridge en route to a shop in Bloomington. For a long time, that bridge has caused me vague unrest when crossing it. Last Wednesday, especially. I had an odd feeling, a sort of "twinge" that something wasn't right. I remember loooking across towards the west, as I headed southbound on the bridge, noting the low cement rail, looking at the view...and considering the drop to the river. I remember a strange sense of nostalgia that came over me, and I shook it off and continued on. When re-crossing, northbound, the sensation caused me to again look to my right, at the construction workers, and consider their safety as all the cars rushed by on one side, the river on the other. I vaguely wondered what it would be like to work on the bridge.

I had no idea it would be the last time I crossed that bridge. I had no idea the horror that would occurr only one week later.

Thursday, my second to last day at work, we recieved emails from the top describing how claims should be handled with regard to this disaster, compassion being priority. We didn't know enough to be able to describe a process to people, but as I understand it, my co-workers weren't asked about process or what to do. Those who did call were just taking care of business and had other concerns. They knew it was an odd situation and knew that we'd all have to wait before we'd know what to do.

Today was my last day at work. I expected my last day to be joyful, but instead it was busy as I cleaned out my desk, got nothing done on what was left of my files, and basically just tried to clean some things up to make life easier for whoever takes my place. I went out with our special investigations unit, all of whom worked in my unit at one time, and they congratulated me for getting out. All of my co-workers were envious...because they want to leave, too. The truth; not many people really LIKE working in the insurance industry. They do their jobs, they do their best...but it wears on them.

So it was strange today as I was busy...but not so much. My files were reassigned by the end of the day, I shipped a couple off to the new reps, tried to have good to do's in them, apologized for what was not done, and said my goodbyes. I am leaving with both personal and professional references from management and co-workers, and I did decide, when answering the exit interview questions, to allow the company to contact me in the future with any particular openings. I do believe in leaving doors open, even if we think we want them closed. My official answer for leaving is to return to school. "Burnout" was not an option, and there were some good points to my job, and what I've learned here.

I can't believe that I'm now officially unemployed, and am so by choice. I can't believe that I'm going to orientation for Grad school tomorrow, and that in a few weeks, it begins. I can't believe that basically, I'm in a financial free-fall, I've jumped by choice...and I'm not as terrified as I should be.

Because in everything that's happened during this tragic week, and my very trying month, I see God's hand. On my Birthday, on June 20th, I commented that 33 was a bad year for Jesus. Indeed, why should I expect anything different for myself? We are called to follow Him, even unto the death.

So June passed with a preface...and July was the beginning of my year of trial. Fire started limping on July first, and I lost him on July 31st, the Tuesday of my last week of employment. August 1st brought one of the worst disaster in the history of Minnesota...and August 3rd...the end of my gainful employment.

By my choice.

And it all seems surreal. Just surreal.

But God is present, He is everywhere, He is loving, and we have to trust in Him, even when we don't understand the events surrounding us. Even in the midst of unspeakable grief and suffering, we must trust. Even when all is lost...that is only an illusion, for all is contained in God's hands, and he is especially close to those who suffer.

Please continue to pray for those involved with the bridge collapse, victims, survivors, families, and rescuers. Please pray for our government leaders, the specialists, and those who rebuild. Please pray for the Twin Cities; these are trying times.

None of us is immune to disaster; we don't know the day or the hour.

And when life gets surreal...it really just means that you finally understand that you really have no control over anything, and have to give the steering wheel to God...because the only one you have is just a toy.

Minneapolis Bridge Collapse

I went to work today, wondering if any of my co-workers were on the bridge. Wondering about my Manager, but thinking he took a different route home.

As it turned out, he was nearly one of the souls on the bridge; he revealed this morning that he is still in shock. Last night, he was on I-35 W, which, north of the bridge, has been under construction for some time. The bridge itself, which is 8 lanes wide, was down to 1 lane on each side. (One week ago, when I was last on this bridge, it was 2 lanes on each side). So as you can imagine, with a major highway, the main thoroughfare through the Minneapolis downtown area, so crippled, well, traffic was HORRENDOUS, and was literally bumper to bumper for miles, and traffic was just crawling.

There are a few exits approaching the bridge, the last one being the 4th St/University exit, coming from the North. My manager was fed up with traffic, was on the phone with his wife, and, there, about a quarter to 6, he told her that he was going to go around it. She chided him, telling him not to go on one of his "expeditions", but he ignored her, being a typical man and needing to explore and find his own way (see TOB to understand this mentality), and took the 4th St. Exit. He found another bridge and crossed through downtown, then re-entered 35W from the next exit down, a few miles along in South Minneapolis.

By then, the bridge had collapsed.

He is convinced he would have been on the bridge, given the way the traffic was crawling, given the timing of it...and is thrilled to be alive. And sorry, all you women out there...thrilled he didn't listen to his wife.

This is a huge tragedy, and the repurcussions are NOT going to stop with Minneapolis. Already, States everywhere are assessing their bridges.

Many years ago, when I was a child, I was terrified of the bridges with the large metal support structures over them. When I saw them as we approached, it looked like scaffolding to me, and scaffolding meant that something wasn't finished being built, yet.

I don't know from whence my fear came, but whenever we took trips somewhere, invariably we would have to cross one of these bridges. And the surface, the strange sound the tires made on these particular types of bridges, terrified me even further; it was like nails on a chalkboard, to my sensitive disposition. And so when we were approaching this structure, I would scream and scream and scream, certain Dad was driving us into disaster. I literally could not control my screaming; it was terrifying to me, so eventually my family just gave me a pillow to scream into, and I agreed...what did it matter, when we were all going to plunge into the river we were crossing?

And the moment we crossed, my screams stopped, and I was fine. I did this for years, and I can't tell you when it stopped. I even remember, after I had learned how to read, coming across a magazine or newspaper article discussing a bridge collapse. In it, the author discussed how the collapse had affected people in the area, such that, even though they had not been on or near it, when it was rebuilt, or when crossing any other existing bridge, people had to drive them across. They could not do it themselves. They could rationalize, they could look at it and see that it was safe, but they were so terrified they could not cross. So volunteers literally stepped forward and provided the service of driving people across that bridge.

Being that this was one of my fears, the article stuck with me; I realize there were others out there fearful of the bridges, but they had a reason. I was a kid; we'd never suffered a collapse, my fear was based on misunderstanding and misinterpretation, and I did eventually outgrow it.

But yesterday, I was reminded of my fear, and realized it's not always irrational to assume a structure is dangerous and can collapse. The I-35 bridge was not a cable bridge or suspension bridge or a truss bridge, but it collapsed just the same. It was not the type of bridge that terrified me as a child.

But I guarantee you; those who were on the bridge will suffer fears for the rest of their lives. They are changed forever. Those who lost family members in this tragedy will suffer fears for the rest of their lives, and they are really hurting now. Those whose family members are yet to be found, they will perhaps suffer the most, for there is no end in sight for their suffering.

I don't know why I suffered such fear as a child, but I do know that such fear is sometimes appropriate. My heart goes out to all who were there, all who were almost there, and all who have loved ones who have been lost or killed...and I offer my deepest sympathies and my prayers.

Please keep all those who were on the bridge in your prayers, as they deal with the ongoing trauma as a result of this horrible disaster.

35 W Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis

7 Confirmed Dead
60 Injured, with several critical
20 people still missing.

This morning, the recovery operation begins; they do not expect to find any more survivors.

Please pray for all those who were on the bridge, for the souls of those who have been lost, and for all their families.



Thanks to IC for the picture.

Prayer need NOW!

I am watching the local news, and there has been a catastrophic bridge collapse in Minneapolis, on 35 W over the Mississippi river.

For those of you not local, this is a main bridge in the Twin Cities. 35 W is a major Interstate highway which, when it reaches Burnsville at the southern portion of the metro area, it splits into 35 and 35E. 35 W continues, passing I-94 near downtown Minneapolis, and then crosses under Washington Avenue, where the bridge begins. It crosses over the Mississippi, with an exit onto University Avenue, which runs through the University of Minnesota - East Bank. The entire bridge has collapsed completely.

Cars are in the water, cars are crushed, a vehicles are burning, and a lot of people need prayers right now.

This is a major disaster. They estimate over 50 cars on that bridge. It has been under construction, doing resurfacing, so lanes have been shut down, otherwise there would have been even more traffic. It happened shortly after 6 pm tonight, still rush hour, but not at the peak.

This is going to have repurcussions for a long time, both due to the casualties and lives lost, and of lesser importance, the traffic detours as a major Interstate highway is detoured around and through this major downtown/University area.

Please keep praying.

Fin

Fire isn't suffering anymore.

What to expect from a true Minnesotan

My Mom just sent this to me, and it's a jem!
*

Rules of Minnesota:

1. Pull your droopy pants up. You look like an idiot.

2. Let's get this straight; it's called a "gravel road." I drive a
Pickup truck because I want to. No matter how slow you drive, you're
going to get dust on your Lexus. Drive it or get out of the way.

3. You say our lakes smell bad to you. They smell like money to us. Get
over it.

4. So you have a $60,000 car. We're impressed. We have $250,000 combines that are driven only 3 times a year.

5. So every person in every pickup waves. It's called being friendly.
Try to understand the concept.

6. If that cell phone rings while a bunch of ducks are coming in; we
will shoot it out of your hand. You better hope you don't have it up to
your ear at the time.

7. Yeah, we eat walleye & northern pike and love it. You really want
sushi & caviar? It's available at the corner bait shop.

8. The "Opener" refers to the first day of deer season and the first day of fishing season. It's a religious holiday held, respectively, on the closest Saturday to the first of November and the second weekend of May, usually Mother's Day. The related holidays celebrating Hunting and Fishing Widows are held on the same dates.

9. We open doors for ladies. That applies to all ladies, not
necessarily all women.

10. No, there's no "vegetarian special" on the menu. Order steak. Or
you can order the Chef's Salad and pick off the pound of ham & turkey.

11. When we fill out a table, there are three main dishes: meats,
vegetables, and breads. We use three spices: Onion, Pepper, and Garlic!

12. You bring "coke" into my house, it better be brown, wet, and served over ice. You bring "Mary Jane" into my house, she better be cute, know how to shoot, drive a truck, and have long hair.

13. College and High School Football is as important here as the Lakers
and the Knicks, and a hell of a lot more fun to watch.

14. Yeah, we have golf courses. But don't hit the water hazards - it spooks the fish.

15. Colleges? Try St. Mary's, St. Thomas, St. Olaf, Concordia, St. John's or a satellite of Ave Maria. They come outta there with an education plus a love for God and country, and they still wave at passing pickups when they come home for the holidays.

16. We have more folks in the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and Coast Guard than
any other state, so "Don't screw with Minnesota." If you do, you will get whipped by the best."

Fire's Status Update

Last week I called the vet again because Fire seemed to be quite distressed, and I detailed what I meant by that: He is drinking water like a fish, he is panting a lot, he can't get comfortable.

The vet upped the Tramadone to two tablets, 3 times per day. I repeated that back a few times...that's a huge increase! The tech repeated the orders.

Sadly, I can't give him the drugs 3 times per day, not while I'm working, but as soon as I'm not, well, he'll get his drugs on schedule.

I've been wondering, though, if he'll last that long.

This morning he gave me a scare; he wasn't interested in breakfast. That's one of the signs. Is he telling me he's done?

So I put it aside, because, yesterday, I gave him a half-dose of the tramadone at 2:30, and then the full dose at 10:30 pm, so I didn't want to jump to conclusions, not knowing what this opiate is going to do to him. Fire initially got up, looking for his "special treat" (medication delivered in a marshmallow)., refused his food, refused water, and returned to lie down on his dogbed. He did eventually eat, when I brought his bowl to him, the food moistened with water.

And he was very interested in going outside to do his business, yet reluctant to come inside. Cabin fever. Who doesn't enjoy the feeling of the sun on one's face?

This evening, again, he didn't get up to eat, but having learned from this morning's endeavors, I brought his bowl to him and he ate with relish. He is still interested in food, but I think that standing and having to dip his head to eat is difficult for him. But if I leave the food out, the Shepherd will help herself, so just waiting for him to make a decision is not really an option.

If he were a healthy dog, I wouldn't, in a thousand years, bring his food to him. But Fire is dying, and he deserves some concessions, even pampering.

Just as some general info, when I first adopted Fire, I fed him from a raised area, which is recommended by some sources to prevent bloat, which large-chested, long-legged dogs are prone to. Other articles refuted this, suggesting feeding from the ground. It's pretty much split 50/50, so because of different circumstances, I haven't fed Fire from a raised bowl for a long time. And for a few days, I've watched him struggle to get up using only three legs, his weight loss is discernable, even though he still maintains a healthy weight for a greyhound, and I've noticed some of his muscles shaking.

He is slipping away quickly, and I wondered if I'd be calling in Monday, in favor of a trip to the vet clinic to send him over the Rainbow Bridge.

But today he's been quite tranquil, has not seemed to be in any great distress, and every time I opened the door to go outside, he wanted to go out, too. Once outside, he's not really wanting to focus on business, but seems to be wanting to spend some contemplative moments in the dappled shade beneath the maple tree, grazing on the crabgrass that lines the fence, and just enjoying life in general.

Is my dying friend trying to tell me something? I think he is.

For a dog, he's a lot wiser than I am. He knows his life is short; he knows that now is the time to observe the glories of creation, the amazement of life, because it's a gift that can't be taken for granted for man or beast.

So tonight, I brought him his bowl, and he immediately went to work. My Shepherd, adjusting to this change, waited for him to be finished and stuck her nose in his bowl at the usual moment, helping him to lick it clean. This is part of their sibling relationship, although he's not nearly so defensive of his food as he used to be.

When I first got Fire, he was food-aggressive, which is common in ex-racing greyhounds. So for about a week, I fed him by hand. I would dip my hand into the food bowl, keeping the bowl out of reach, forcing him to depend upon me, associating my hand with the food. I knew that one day, it may happen that I'd have to take something dangerous from him, without having to lose my hand to do it.

He came around quickly, although, with regard to rawhides and the like, I still have had to resort to even "better" treats to entice him away. Even though he quickly figured out my ploy, I learned to be quicker and used the actions of the other dog as natural interference if something really good had to be taken away.

Dogs will be dogs; we have to respect them for what they are.

See how far Fire has come; from fighting for his food, to having it brought to him.

Some would say it's "time". I disagree; a theme is developing, and while I am making concessions for Fire, the time has not yet come to send him away. He's not ready to go.

On one hand, I fear I will make the decision too quickly, on the other hand, I fear I will wait too long.

For now, Fire is content. He is resting peacefully, he continues to be a living work of art, graceful even as he limps through his last days, loving even as he suffers such deep, unreachable pain.

I looked into his eyes today, his adoring, devoted greyhound eyes, and I asked him if it's time. He placed his paw into my hand and stretched his head towards me, begging for a pat. And his eyes never left mine.

No, Mom. It's not time yet. Pet me.



** I still have a long ways to go to pay for Fire's existing vet bills. If you are interested in helping, you may do so here. Thank you, and God bless you. ***

Some Blogger Issues

This is a PSA:

I have my blog set up to send me an email notification if there is a comment, however, for the last few days, I have not recieved any emails. Very odd.

Is anyone else having this problem, or am I going to need to send a note to the powers that run the site?

The Finch and the Sunflower

This afternoon, I sat down at my computer and pulled back the drape so that I could gaze out the window, and there, before my astonished eyes, was a yellow finch perched atop the sunflower.

Mystery solved.

I had actually feared that it was squirrels destroying the flower, but had been a bit mystified as to how those critters could climb the stalk without breaking it. But I also knew birds could of course reach the flower, certain, though, that I would never catch them in the act.

This afternoon though, I saw Mr. Finch, my friendly avian neighbor, happily pecking at his meal to his heart's content. I gazed at the sight in wonder, grateful for the gift of God's hand in motion, feeding the birds of the air; for this sunflower is His very hand.

Just as with the Parable of the Breadcrust, God is giving me a front row seat to the Parable of the Sunflower and through this, He is revealing his everyday glory. It is an encouragement to trust in His providence. Even as I look at the pecked over appearance of the head of the sunflower, I can witness the buds now blooming, I can witness their pollination, and when the time comes, I will again be witness to the feast laid out for not just Mr. Finch, but for his entire family.

It is a parable of trust, a witness to life, and a symbol of God's eternal love.

Labor of Love

The sunflower outside my window is being eaten away, little by little, every day, mysteriously. Other flowers are beginning to sprout from the same stalk, but the large head, which was once so glorious, is now anything but. And yet, the sunflower still lives on, seeking the sun, and providing sustenance to whatever wildlife happens by for a meal.

And still, I water the stalk, no longer for my initial flagging sprout, but now in hopes for the life of the flowers yet to bloom. Because there is always hope; even amidst death, there is hope and there is new life to take the place of the life that has left, and that new life must be tended as well.

The Taste of Summer

I don't know what it is about summer; there is something about hot weather that makes me want to eat tomatoes and cucumbers and basil. Now that I know what basil is.

My family lived in Illinois (near Rockford) until I was ten, and I can remember many hot, humid summers spend reluctantly helping Mom weed the garden, or joyfully playing with my friends in the woods and vales and yards that surrounded us.

One summer mid-morning, we decided we were hungry, and we all seemed to agree that the best possible snack was one of the invitingly-ripe tomatoes that were maturing on vines all over the neighborhood.

So while Mom worked in other areas of the yard and garden, we asked if we could snack on the tomatoes growing on the vine. She told us we could so we carefully selected those that appeared the most lucious.

I remember being somewhat surprised by my thirst for these juicy red-orange gifts from God. I did not, as a rule, like vegetables, and cooked tomatoes made me gag. But that day, I developed a very strong taste for that which grew on the vine, and lead others to join me in this wonderful endeavor. We proceeded to pluck the ripe orbs directly from the vine, wipe them on our shirts, and bite into their juicy goodness right there as we knelt in the dirt. It is one of my favorite childhood moments, and if I could do an oil painting, the memory is so strong that I would indeed paint a child enjoying a summer tomato while surrounded by summer heat and humidity in the comforts of the home garden with freshly churned dirt and bees buzzing around contentedly.

After enjoying what Mom's garden had to offer us, we decided we were still hungry and went inside for some water and to seek other snacks. There were a few tomatoes on the counter by the sink, so we ate the rest before moving on to my friend's house and garden, where they (thankfully for their mom) had fewer ripe vegetables.

Then we were done, and when lunch rolled around, we weren't interested. I wonder why?

For some years, I'm not sure tomatoes gripped me so strongly. I remember my cousin introducing me to a "tomato sandwich" several years later; this consisted of bread, mayo, and a tomato, and on a hot day, it really hit the spot. Mom and my Godmother, my cousin's Mom, thought we were nuts, but we were completely happy with our choice.

I'm not sure when it happened, exactly, but at some point, I realized that tomatoes taste like summer. They do, they really, really do. There is something about fresh Minnesota summer tomatoes that brings childhood into the present, and the present into eternity in the enjoyment of a flavor given to us directly by God.

A couple years ago, I attended a party in which a friend brought Gazpacho, which, of course, I found to be absolutely DIVINE as it is tomato-based. I'd never had a cold soup before, but this stuff was wonderful! Last summer I found a recipe and made it maybe once, but it lasted for awhile (being that I'm single), and because of the labor, I didn't make it again. The ingredients alone were far too complicated, but the soup was great!

Recently, though I discovered a new way to make Gazpacho; while making pasta and other appetizers.

So, without further ado, I will present to you my mid-summer recipes tailor-made for tomato and basil lovers.

*

The other day, I saw a sale involving Classico Pesto, and decided to give it a shot. I've tried other brands (Alessi) and found it to be salty and miserable, but figured another company deserves a chance. For some reason, the idea of Basil and Tomato pasta was appealing to me.

A few years ago, when I first moved into my townhome, some friends came over to celebrate my birthday with me and we made various types of pasta. Italian appetizers were of course also involved, my favorite of which was cherry tomatoes cored and filled with home-made basil pesto.

I couldn't get ENOUGH of those little things!

So last weekend, I made this appetizer and ate a whole little carton of tomatoes filled with basil.

But then there's the question: what do do with the cores and the juice? Coring tomatoes is a messy endeavor. But, having remembered my previous gazpacho experience, I simply cut the cherry tomatoes over a small bowl and caught the juice and the cores. By the time I was done, there was a certain amount in the bowl, to which I added some of the pesto, and some cucumbers, and some spices, white wine, and some red wine vinegar...and put it away in the fridge.

Then I just cut up some larger tomatoes, tossed it with the basil pesto, and served it with angel-hair pasta.

YUMMY!

I also plan to cut up a baguette, slather it with pesto and chopped tomatoes and melt pasta on top. Thanks to my dear neighbor Lisa for that suggestion, which can actually be done on the grill, although I've never tried it.

And of course, I just love tomatoes sliced with a little celery salt sprinkled on top. There's nothing like it in the world.

You may be wondering what I did with my mini-gazpacho? I ate it, just that little bowl, and it was wonderful. Today, I made a larger bowl, doing the same thing. I use the left-over angel-hair pasta noodles, but this time I heated some sliced and chopped red onions in a little olive oil and garlic, and when they were ready (still a little crispy), I added the pesto sauce from the fridge along with the chopped tomatoes, just to heat everything a little. It was tossed with the pasta. I also had some cherry tomatoes I had to use up or they would go bad so I made the appetizers and from the core both of the large tomatoe for the pasta and the little ones, they went into a bowl. I added some low-sodium V-8, cucumber, and a few onions. Some Cholula red sauce (it's like tobasco but more flavorful), a touch of Tiger Sauce, red wine vinegar, pepper, pesto and more basil, thyme, majoram, pepper, celery salt, and it now resides in my refrigerator to provide dinner for me tomorrow night. A light dinner, but given all this heat, a perfect dinner.

So long ago, when Mom discovered the garden bereft of tomatoes, the counter bare of her new harvest, and the neighbor's garden robbed, she was met with a dilemma. What to do with a child who didn't normally eat vegetables but who had one day gone overboard? We'd raided the gardens with permission, given by unsuspecting parents. And we were eating healthy foods as opposed to ice cream, or cookies, or the like!

In the end, we were only lightly scolded. Mom was happy we ate the tomatoes but asked, that, next time, we just not eat them ALL.

She was a very good Mom, still is. She doesn't like tomatoes as much as I do, though.

Grad School News and Booklist

I spoke with the IPT director today, and advised him of my situation; I cannot pay for school, but I don't want to withdraw. He mentioned that loans MAY be available, and had the Program Coordinator look into it and get back to me.

She gave me the info for a specific lender and website, I went there, applied, and have the preliminary approval, even e-signed it. So now I know...I can go to school this semester. Praise God! It is a bit unofficial until I get the confirmation of approval, but as I have good credit and have never defaulted on a loan, there is no reason they would deny me.

I am keeping my Grad School bleg, however, because these loans are not subsidized so I hope to be able to contribute something as I go. The reality is that I'm getting a loan because I can't afford it on my own. And I continue to thank those of you who have been so generous already in your assistance. Your funds will help me buy books.

As promised, I am posting the book list. If you happen to have any of these titles/editions and would like to send them my way either as a donation or as a sale, let me know either in the combox or via email. Please note, I am posting specific editions because some of the titles have multiple versions. If the prof provided the ISBN number, I will provide it as well, in order to be as specific as possible.

Please note: The titles I am listing are not ALL the books required for the classes. I am not listing those resources I already have in my possession.

DOCUMENTS OF VATICAN II

* ONE of the following titles: (all out of print)

1. Trouve', Marianne Loraine, FSP (General Editor), The Sixteen Documets of Vatican II, with introduction by Douglas G. Bushman, S.T.L. (Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 1999)

2. The Sixteen Documents of Vatican II, with Commentaries by the Council Fathers (Boston, MA: St. Paul Editions) - poss paperback is the only version available

3. The Sixteen Documents of Vatican II (Boston, MA: St. Paul Editions) - hardback only

OR, as a last resort:

* Flannery, Austin (ed.), Vatican Council II: The Conciliar & Post Conciliar Documents, Costello Publishing Co; Revised edition, 1987 (Paperback)
ISBN: 0918344395


Of the above, I am praying to find the first one on the list. The prof did note that of the alternate option, there is an inclusive language edition which is not recommended in any way, shape, or form.


FOUNDATIONS OF CATHOLIC SPIRITUALITY

* Aumann, Jordan, Spiritual Theology (Westminister, MD: Christian Classics, 1987).

* Vatican II, Lumen gentium, Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. Chapter V: The universal Call to Holiness in the Church. Boston: Pauline Books and Media
ISBN: 0-8198-1843-7 (( If I can find one of the V2 books, this should obviously be included ))

* St. Alphonsus Liguori, Uniformity with God's Will, Thomas W. Tobin, trans., Rockford IL, Tan books and Publishers, Inc., 1977.
ISBN 0895550199

* St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life. John K. Ryan, trans. Preface and Frist part (New york: Doubleday, 1989, [1972]
ISBN: 0-385-03009-6

I actually own Intro. to the Devout Life, but not that edition. I may check to see if mine is acceptable but otherwise I'm expecting to have to buy this book.


OLD TESTAMENT I

* The New Jerusalem Bible, Henry Wansbrough, General Editor. New York: Doubleday, 1985. ISBN: 0385142641 *******REGULAR EDITION ******

* The Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version. Catholic edition. San Francisco: Ignatius Pres, 1999.
ISBN: 089870491x

OR

* The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version. 2nd Catholic edition. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2006.
ISBN: 978-0-89870-833-2; 0-89870-833-8; 978-0-89870-834-9; 0-89870-8334-6, 978-0-89870-936-0; 0-89870-936-9

(prof note; "it is important the student obtain this edition (NOT the New Revised Standard Version)

* Pontifical Biblical Commission, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church. Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 1993. ISBN: 0-8198-3670-2

* Pontifical Biblical Commission, Sancta mater ecclesia ("The historicity of the Gospels 4/21/1964) Boston: Pouline Books & Media, n.d. ISBN: 0-8198-3344-4

* Pope Leo XIII, Providentissimus deus (On the Study of Sacred Scripture" 11/18/1893). Boston: Pauline Books & Media, n.d. ISBN: 0-8198-6922-8

* Pope Pius XIII, Divino afflante spiritu ("On the Promotion of Biblical Studies" 9/30/1943) Boston: Pauline Books & Media, n.d., ISBN: 0-8198-5858-7)


I have the RSV-CE, but my ISBN does not match, so I'll be contacting the prof to see if mine is sufficient. Otherwise I'll be obtaining two more Bibles.

Please, if any of you can provide any of these books, or even links where they can be found new or used, let me know. I'm primarily looking for used books, just as I did as an undergrad, but Theology resources tend to have a nasty habit of going out of print quickly, presenting special challenges to both students and professors. Clearly the V2 documents are availalbe at the Vatican II website, but unfortunately, the computer screen gets in my way when I try to highlight special passages, and then I scroll down and lose my space, and thus the highlighter fluid has marked a totally different passage or nothing at all. They, in total, are too long to print out so I am looking to actually purchase the books recommended.

And please, y'all, keep praying for me. I'm happy to be looking forward to beginning graduate school in earnest, even if it's only for one semester. It's all on God's grace, and His grace sometimes arrives in the form of a student loan.

I didn't think a loan was available for those of us off campus, but apparently they are, thank God. It could be a special arrangement the school made with the lender, so clearly I'm grateful.

This is one thing off my list.

And I got another app turned in today and another with the same county for another position. I don't have a chance in the world at the latter, but one never knows until one is either rejected or called for an interview. All in God's hands.

God bless!

Light in the Shadows

I wish I had some words of wisdom or some kind of insights or even something interesting to say or observe, but I don't. I have writer's block. Which is just as well; I need to focus on many things, and perhaps when a few things are knocked off my list I can stop being Martha and be Mary again.

Or something like that.

I still can't pay for Grad school, and today I read about osteosarcoma; Fire has weeks to up to 4 months, but given how fast this is moving, I don't think he'll make his next birthday, which is in September, according to his ear tattoo. And it weighs very heavily upon me because I will have to be the one to give the word. It's not time yet, his pain is being managed and I'm making accomodations for him in the meantime.

And I'm asking God what I should be learning right now, which is, maybe, going back to just living one day at a time. Realizing how precious life is, and how much things can change in a single moment. How much we all take for granted, plans we forsee, assumptions we make about the future, and then in a moment, it all changes.

I have to wonder, in all of this, what is really important? What is being lined up right now? What is God doing in the background? What is he asking of me?

I don't have any answers, not to anything. Not to my job situation, not for how to deal with Fire's terminal diagnosis, not for how to pay for grad school this semester or ever.

Tonight I'm just sad, and have been biting back tears most of the day. A couple women from the greyhound rescue organization have been in contact and have offered their support. Of the three of them, two have suffered this loss recently and let me know of their concern and prayers for us, knowing how it feels.

I guess it's just hitting me that this is for real, it's formal, and it's terminal. And the best thing to do is to let nature take its course. All I can do is wait and watch and pray, and thank God for the gift of life and the gift of love. Because no matter how painful this is, I would not take it back. I would not reject this gift, and I am willing to accept this because it is God's will for me in this moment. It is God's will for this dog, and one day, I will write about the spiritual lessons brought into my life by these humble creatures.

But not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight is my night and even as I wander among these shadows, I know there is something more beyond them and so we will pass through this valley, never alone.

It's always hard to face losing a friend.

Final Answer

We went to our vet appointment today and had the X-Rays done. The good doctor came in and first put up the initial X-ray, then today's for comparison, right next to it.

It's official; it's osteosarcoma, and it has very obviously spread and will continue to do so. This malignant, terrible disease is the reason my dog was fine three weeks ago, and can't even navigate stairs now. Nor will he ever be able to do so again.

There will be no more walks around the neighborhood, only hopping around in the yard for brief interludes of sunshine and breezes. There will be no more greyhound "meet-and-greets" because the travel to and from and the time standing will be too hard on him.

Fire will be sleeping downstairs from here on out, because I cannot allow him to come up the stairs for fear of fractures not only in the cancerous leg, but in the good leg from stress alone.

Fire is not going to get better; he is going to deteriorate.

I didn't cry in the vet clinic this morning as the Vet gave me the diaagnosis and the options. Before I could start I blinked the tears away and focused on the facts, knowing that there would be plenty of time for tears later. Like now, as I write this.

These are the options in the order presented.

1. Euthanasia. No. Not yet. The vet agreed.
2. Do nothing. Live with it, and treat the pain. Watch his weight, his appetite, his attitude, whether the pain is controlled or if he is suffering inordinately. Wait.
3. Radiatian treatment at the U of M. "It's not inexpensive, but you'll have to call there to find out." They use this to control pain and delay the spread of the cancer, but it also thus delays the inevitable, because it is not a cure. The cost is around $3,000 to $5,000
4. Amputation and Radiation treatment. Again, delaying the inevitable. And he didn't say it, but amputating a liimb on a greyhound, well, you just can't do that to a greyhound.

We are treating for pain. In addition to the 75 mg of Rimadyl twice daily, we are adding a narcotic, Tramadol, at a lower dose to be increased if needed. I think we have one months' supply of both pain meds.

The bill for today:

Medical progress exam.....$21.00
Radiology.................$79.00
Rimadyl...................$38.00
Tramadol..................$10.00
Total after 5% discount $143.72
*
The time we have left......Priceless

If you have interest in helping to cover Fire's bills, please click here. I don't know how much time he has left but my guess is that we really won't need any more trips to the vet, but the last one. And I don't know how long that will be, so for now, I'm just going to enjoy the time my greyhound has left and pray I have the courage to make the decision when the time comes.